299 Days: The Preparation (31 page)

Grant had long ago written off his 401(k). He knew those investments would be worthless; he just wished that Lisa had realized it. Right then, in those few moments after Grant heard the news on the radio, a good chunk of the Matsons’ life savings had just been wiped out. Exactly like he knew it would. It was weird. His reaction was a big, fat “I told you so” instead of the horror of losing his life savings. He had known this was coming with such certainty that he had long ago gotten over the anger at potentially losing his savings.

Grant kept telling himself not to gloat. Telling Lisa “I told you so” would only make her more angry. He needed her to view him as resource, not an enemy. He would be asking her to do things she didn’t want to do in the next few hours, days, and months. He needed her on his team. Besides, being a dick and saying, “I told you so” wouldn’t get their money back.

There was that warm joy again. He had food, a secure place out in the country, guns, and a network of trusted people with skills. They would probably be fine. At least, compared to others. The rest of the country wouldn’t be, but a few people like him would be.

Besides — here came that rush of the warm joy — this had to happen. Things couldn’t keep going on like they had been. Grant didn’t want all the bad things to happen to the mostly innocent people out there, but he knew that it was the only way things would change. Those people had their chance over and over again to stop living like they were. To stop taking the easy way out. To stop looking the other way as other people’s rights were taken away. To stop spending money they didn’t have.

Grant thought about the people who sat back and let all this happen. Grant tried to explain to them what would happen, but they wouldn’t listen. They thought he and others warning of a collapse were crazy.

“People get what they deserve,” Grant finally said out loud in the car. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he couldn’t deny his sentiment.

It was time to activate the preparation plans. He had already developed two basic plans: one for an immediate crisis like an earthquake, and another for things that would take a few days, or even weeks, to fully unfold. This was a slowly developing crisis.

Given that there was some time to get the final touches put together, there was no need to freak out and start loading guns. That would only scare Lisa and might get him a visit from the Olympia police. No need for that. Stick to the plan, he told himself.

Since he had plenty of supplies out at the cabin, his plan centered on convincing Lisa that they needed to go out there. She wouldn’t see any need to go right away. She’d think it was just some dip in the stock market. That happens all the time. Why run off to the countryside over that?

Grant thought about how Lisa would be reacting to this so he could tailor the best approach to fit her concerns. She would not want Grant to overreact; that would be her primary concern. This was no big deal, she would think. The stock market was just having a “correction.” It sucked to lose the money, of course, but the stock market would come back. OK, play the hand you’ve been dealt, Grant thought. Be supportive of her.

Grant thought about Lisa’s level of awareness of the situation to decide how to convince her based on that. She did not know how bad things really were. That was probably better for her, given how angrily she reacted to his “doom and gloom.” He needed to break it to her slowly; there was no sense overwhelming her.

He called her on her cell phone at work. She answered right away, which wasn’t always the case because she worked in the ER.

“Have you heard about the stock market?” he asked.

“No,” she said, wondering why he was calling her at work.

“Did it go up?”

He told her what had happened. Not the part about the bond rating being lowered. Not yet, at least. He was in supportive husband mode right now.

“I’m calling to see if there is anything you think we should do right away,” he said. “I’m not suggesting we sell all our stocks, which we couldn’t do anyway, given that the market has shut down, but just wanted to see how you wanted to approach this together. I’m at work, but can do things like move money around if you need me to.”

He was sure that Lisa was relieved that Mr. Gloom and Doom, who had said a few years ago that this would happen, wasn’t saying “I told you so” or freaking out about buying gold now when the price was so high. He knew that she appreciated that he wanted to work together to determine whether to move money around various funds instead of preaching at her.

“No,” Lisa said, “I can’t think of anything we need to do. It will work out.”

“See you tonight at home, dear,” Grant said, being the supportive and non-overreacting husband that he was.

Grant got into his car and proceeded to “overreact.” He went out to invest in something as valuable as gold; actually, something more valuable than gold. He headed to Cash n’ Carry.

He wasn’t the only one who had the idea to go to Cash n’ Carry. The parking lot was full, but it wasn’t a mob scene. It was just a busy shopping day. Most of the world was still oblivious, unaware of what was likely to happen. They were going about their day wondering who would win whatever stupid reality show they watched that night. Grant hated to have such elitist thoughts — he had always thought of himself as a regular guy, a country boy — but he couldn’t help but think how much of the population was utterly stupid about all of this. He hated thinking it, but the evidence supported that conclusion. For example, the Cash n’ Carry parking lot was not full after all of this news.

It was an interesting cross section of humanity at Cash n’ Carry. Some people, like Grant, were well dressed professionals. There were older, middle-aged, and younger people. Lots of kids in tow. Lots of immigrants. It seemed that many immigrants owned restaurants and got their supplies at Cash n’ Carry. There were also what appeared to be members of religious sects. Some of the women there, who had about a zillion kids, donned bonnets and wore dresses straight out of the old West. They looked like the people rescued from a polygamist compound or Amish sect that had permission to drive cars to Cash n’ Carry. Grant didn’t know what religion they were, but they definitely were not the average suburbanites.

All the preppers in the store assumed they were the only ones in a panic stocking up on food. They didn’t want to tip off the others about what they were up to. They were trying to leave the impression that it was just another shopping errand, but they weren’t acting like it. They had big carts and were throwing fifty pound bags of rice and beans in them without thinking. They didn’t have shopping lists.

Neither did Grant. He knew what he needed. He would get more of the foods that met his criteria of requiring only water to cook or being ready to eat, storing for long periods of time, being cheap, and being liked by his family. More pancake mix, pasta, biscuit mix, mashed potato mix, peanut butter, canned fruit, beans, rice, drink mix, and gravy mix.

People were strangely silent in the checkout line. They weren’t looking at each other’s carts. They just stared ahead, not wanting to pry into other people’s business. They were trying to buy all that food anonymously and assumed everyone else was, too. It was like they were buying something embarrassing like lingerie. Grant chuckled to himself. Buying food before everyone else figured out that they should do the same was something to be embarrassed about?

As the name implied, Cash n’ Carry only accepted cash and didn’t provide help out. That kept costs down. Grant had $320 in the expense-check envelope. He breathed a sigh of relief. Having cash on hand at all times was one of the reasons he kept the cash in the car. Sure, it could get stolen in his car, but it was worth the risk to have a few hundred dollars available when circumstances called for it.

Grant’s bill came to $295. He had about three months of basic food for his family for that amount. Grant paid his cash and loaded his bounty in the car.

He stuffed the trunk and the back seat. He wished he had a pickup truck, but Lisa would have flipped out. Oh well, play the hand you’re dealt. Instead of getting mad about not having a pickup truck, have a plan and execute it; go to Cash n’ Carry when the stock market crashes, load up your food, and take it to your cabin. He was doing far better than a man with a pickup truck who didn’t have a plan.

It was 10:00 a.m. on Wednesday as Grant headed out to the cabin. He thought about what average people were doing right then. They were at their white-collar jobs shuffling paper (actually, trading emails). They would be oblivious to all that was happening. They would eat lunch that came from just-in-time-inventory and had been taken to the store by a semi-truck. They would drive home in cars using gasoline that was also delivered by big trucks.

When they got home, they might turn on the network news that would mention something about some bonds and that FEMA was working hard to help the refugees. They would eat more just-in-time- inventoried food for dinner, probably way more than they needed to eat. They would watch reality shows on TV or surf the internet. They would fall asleep in a safe neighborhood because there was someone to answer any 911 call that might come in.

In a few days, they would hear on the news that “Tea Party” people were upset about some bond rating thing. Quite a few of them would dismiss whatever it was that the “teabaggers” were mad at because they were just ignorant racists. Then they would go about their lives like they always had.

Grant kept driving to the cabin. It was a beautiful drive. The farther away he got from Olympia, the more beautiful it got. The water. The trees. The little farms in Pierce Point. It was a different world than Grasshopperville that he just left. “Grasshooper” referred to the story of the ant and the grasshopper. In the story, the ant works hard all summer gathering food while the grasshopper played; in the winter, the ant is fine, but the grasshopper dies. “Grasshopper” became a term for those who goof off and don’t prepare for the inevitable bad times.

Although he trusted his neighbors, the Colsons and Morrells, Grant looked around to make sure they wouldn’t see him unload all his food into the storage shed. The Colsons did not appear to be home. The Morrells’ truck and car were there, but they weren’t stirring.

Stealth time. Grant quietly and quickly unloaded the food into the shed. He wouldn’t bother vacuum sealing it now; he just had to get it into the shed. He thought he would be using this food in the next few months, weeks, or even days.

Grant didn’t have any rats or other threats to his food in the shed, but he put on his mental list the need to get more thick plastic tubs for the food. He remembered that he had a new, and extremely tough, plastic garbage can in the basement that had never been used. It would be perfect. It stored a tremendous amount of the food; the only thing that didn’t fit was the fifty-pound bags of rice and beans.

Grant was in and out of the cabin in ten minutes. He zoomed back to his office. They might start missing him soon. He had a taping of Rebel Radio in a little while and he might be late.

He actually felt guilty about skipping work for the Cash n’ Carry run — for about one second. That was that damned normalcy bias striking. Even a committed survivalist like Grant suffered from bouts of normalcy bias. He laughed to himself and thought about how utterly stupid it was to worry about taking a couple hours off for this. He went to work to earn money to provide for his family. By going to Cash n’ Carry and getting about three months of food, Grant was providing for his family, which was the ultimate purpose of working.

Normalcy bias was like fear in combat: It was OK to have it, but not OK to be paralyzed by it.

Driving back to Olympia, Grant kept looking for signs that others were preparing like him. He looked for a full parking lot at the grocery store on the way; it wasn’t full. He looked for a full parking lot at the bank because surely people would want to withdraw cash right now; the parking lot looked normal. He was listening to the news station on the car radio. No mention of the bond rating. Lots of talk about the 900 point stock market drop. But, with reassuring comparisons to previous dips in the market. The message from the radio seemed to be: “Nothing to see here. Move along. Go back to work and keep putting your money into the stock market. Lots of good buying opportunities now. Gold? That’s what crazy people buy.”

Grant’s cell phone rang. It was Bill Owens.

“Holy crap, did you hear about the bond rating?” Bill said. “I thought the Mexican refugee thing was big, but this is huge. How are things up there?”

Grant talked for a while about how no one up in Washington State seemed to be fazed by this. He talked about Lisa’s non-reaction. It was time to have “the conversation” with Bill.

“Hey, Bill,” Grant said, “you know that if you ever need to bug out of Texas you can come up here, but can you keep a secret? I mean a not-even-tell-your-wife secret?”

“Sure,” Bill said. “Did you kill a hitchhiker or something?”

They laughed. “Something like that,” Grant said. He went on to describe his cabin and the food and guns there.

Bill sounded relieved at Grant’s revelation. “Not surprised a bit, Grant. I’ve been doing the same thing for a couple of years. Sandy is on board. I can store the food in the garage. She’s cool with the guns.

I was just about to tell you about my preps and invite you down here.” “Preps?” Bill had used a survivalist term. Interesting.

“Bill, did you just say ‘preps’?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, it’s a term for disaster preparations we use down here,” Bill said. “Lots of people in my neighborhood have been stocking up on things for the past year or two. Now we’re glad we did. At first we tried to hide it from each other but now we don’t. We work together here in the neighborhood. When the Mexicans started flooding in, it was obvious to us that we needed to do things to be more self-reliant. We have plans to secure the neighborhood if this shit continues, and it probably will. I feel sorry for those poor Mexicans and I would take in a family, but the government needs to control this. You should see what crime is here. Sandy has stopped going into work. So have I. I was going in for a while and carrying a gun. Now it’s too risky to leave the house.”