Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (8 page)

John emerged into the main lobby from the stairwell and immediately noticed Terry leaning against a large polished limestone column. They shared a momentary flick of eye contact, as a sign of subtle recognition, and moved without a word. The hours they spent together on the range heightened their non-verbal communications to an edge. As John walked past the column, Terry fell into place beside him.

John whispered, “I guess if I’m going to be that predictable, I should come out armed and ready to fight.”

“Well,” said Terry, “if that’s the limit of your predictability . . . then you have nothing to worry about. Besides, if I meant you harm I wouldn’t have been standing in the open by that column.” He paused for a moment, and added, “I think the best way to get you would be from behind.”

John laughed, which was a short, controlled acknowledgment to Terry’s comment. They knew each other’s capability with a pistol very well, but Terry could only guess about the level of skill John possessed with edged or in unarmed combat.

Terry sensed John’s distraction and offered, “I’m hungry. You?”

“Famished,” said John. “You okay with the deli?”

“Absolutely.”

John and Terry walked a block and a half to the corner deli and ordered take-out. When they had their food, they walked another block toward the nearest open park. During their walk they discussed the upcoming team shoot, and John’s remora holster, but they were always
careful about not letting their conversation be overheard by people passing by.

When John first moved to the city, he was surprised at how many people were leery of open gun talk. He assumed, like many other people around the country who think they know Texas, that everyone in the State was a gun nut. As it turned out, Texas had more gun control regulations than most liberal states in the country. John found that interesting given Texas’ long history of autonomous statehood, or republicanism. Austin, the political seat for the state, was also the most liberal city in the state, and home to the many stifling regulations that existed across the board.

John spotted a park bench under a mature oak, and with a head nod he aimed Terry in that direction. It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue and crystal clear. The sun, near directly overhead, was warm and inviting, and the southerly breeze fresh and mild. It was a perfect day for an outside lunch, and private conversation.

John reached into his bag and removed a turkey sandwich. He opened the brown paper wrapper and breathed in the rich aroma of dark rye. He loved turkey on dark rye, with mayo, mustard and lettuce. Few sandwich combinations made him happier. He glanced around, taking in all the activity around him, as he ate.

Terry attacked his sandwich with equal gusto, but timed his bites so he could talk. He watched John closely, and when he paused to drink from his water bottle, Terry asked, “So . . . what’s on your mind. You look seriously distracted.”

John grunted and took another pull from his water bottle. He capped it and sat it on the bench next to him. “You have no idea,” he said, as he looked over and made eye contact with Terry.

“Work?” asked Terry.

John considered how best to continue his conversation on the subject of his real life distraction. He trusted Terry on the range, with shooting competitions, but that wasn’t the same as trusting someone with his personal life, or his reputation.

“Some of its work . . . yes,” said John.

“And what . . . that new TV didn’t make your day?” said Terry with a grin. “I mean really, next you’re gonna ask me to install a hot tub.”

John nodded and smiled. He didn’t think it was wise to say anything to Terry about the Caldera. He wasn’t sure why he thought this, only that he wasn’t sure their friendship could endure it. Another part of him also didn’t want Terry to think he was crazy, and risk losing him as a shooting partner. So he decided to stick with his original story, and said, “My mom’s in the hospital. I asked for a couple days off to spend some time with her, so I won’t be in tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Terry. “Is she gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll know more tomorrow.”

Terry let the subject drop, and to that John was grateful. While they ate the remainder of their meals in silence, enjoying the weather and the pleasant airy surroundings, John was beginning to feel guilty about withholding his concerns over the Caldera. He looked at Terry and said, “I want to ask you a hypothetical question.”

“Shoot,” said Terry.

John thought carefully about what words to choose. He really wanted to convey a life and death message to Terry without sounding like an absolute lunatic. Terry deserved a head’s up, and John wanted to give him one without making himself vulnerable. He’d never before felt such insecurity about something he knew, gut feeling or not, to be a real threat. Yet here he was, acting like a boy asking a girl to the prom.

“What would you do if you learned that a really big earthquake was about to happen say, within the next forty-eight hours? What would you do to get ready for it?”

Terry studied John closely, perhaps trying to gauge his nature, to see if John was serious. When he saw that John wasn’t smiling, Terry said, “Heck. I don’t know, John. I think I’d have to consider the source of the information first.”

John nodded and waited for Terry to continue, and he did. “If it was a credible report . . . I mean, if I knew it was really gonna happen, then
I’d probably do some things around the house to prepare, you know, like tape the windows, secure the cabinet doors, and stuff like that,” he finished.

“Is that it?” asked John, with a bit more surprise in his voice than he intended.

Terry caught the shift in tone and leaned back defensively. “Why,” he asked with eyebrows raised, “are you telling me an earthquake’s about to happen?”

“No,” said John. “It’s just that you said you would prepare, but your preparedness was focused entirely on protecting your breakable possessions.”

“Just what are you getting at, John?”

“Look, if I told you a really big earthquake was about to occur, and that it would destroy the roadways, knock out communications, kill the power, and disrupt the flow of water . . . what would you say to that?” asked John.

“Oh. Okay then. Well, I guess I didn’t consider the full effects of your hypothetical disaster,” replied Tony, as he wadded up his sandwich wrapper and looked at the ground at his feet. “Since you put it that way, I guess I’d go buy as much bottled water and food as I could.” He paused for a moment and added, “And I’d fill my gas tank, and get my camping stuff ready, you know, for shelter and such . . . until help arrives.”

“Yes. And you just raised another important issue,” said John.

“What’s that?” asked Terry.

John noticed the look on Terry’s face and saw that he wondered if John was messing with him. John figured Terry either wasn’t comfortable talking about disasters, or disaster preparedness. Either way, John was glad Terry was playing along. “You mentioned help,” said John. “How long do you think it would take for help to reach you after a really big earthquake?”

“Oh . . . I don’t know,” said Terry, as he shifted in his seat and focused on something across the park.

“Okay,” continued John. “What do you think the help would provide when, no . . . if they arrived?”

“Food and water is my guess . . . and medical attention. Maybe even shelter, you know, like those big tents, and those fancy washing trailers and such.”

“And how long do you think it would take for that help to arrive?” persisted John.

“A few days, maybe a week, I guess. Why John? What are you getting at?”

“Just bear with me a bit longer,” replied John. “I’m also curious about these things and wonder what you think about them. So . . . you would be on your own for about a week, right?”

Terry nodded and John added, “Can you do that, Terry? Can you, right now, live a week on your own, with just what you have in your home. No electricity, running water, or any more food?”

“I think I could do with a little more food and water,” admitted Terry “But I’ve got camping stuff. You know, a tent, camp stove, lanterns, sleeping bags, and stuff. I’m sure someone would be along to help us though . . . probably quicker than a week, too.”

“Well, what if I told you the earthquake was going to be bigger than anything that ever happened in America . . . that it would be bigger than anything you can imagine . . . something like the earthquakes that hit the central U.S. back in 1811.”

“I don’t know anything about an earthquake in 1811,” said Terry.

“Most people don’t, but there were, and several large ones at that. They were centered in Missouri, and powerful enough to reverse the flow of the Mississippi River.”

“Really?” said Terry. He paused to think about what John had just said and replied, “So . . . what you’re telling me is that I’m not prepared for an earthquake . . . or any other disaster. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

John smiled. He knew his friend was sharp, but he definitely appreciated his ability to get to the bottom of a subject quickly. “I don’t know if you’re prepared or not,” said John. “It’s not for me to say even if I knew.
But I will say this, if you think you’re not prepared, then maybe you should do something about it.”

John paused, and then looked at Terry again before speaking. “In a normal world you might be able to rely on the government to help you out after a disaster, but what if the disaster wasn’t normal? What if it was a new type of disaster, or a familiar disaster, but on a whole new level of intensity? Do you think you would be able to rely on the government for help? Do you think they would get to your neighborhood when half the country was screaming for the same help? Where do you think you would be on their priority list?”

Terry was silent and John let it linger before adding, “Look, I can see I upset you, and I apologize. It wasn’t my intent.”

Terry looked at John and asked, “Then what was your intent?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged John. “To maybe make you think about your level of preparedness,” he finished.

“And why’d you want me to think about my preparedness?” asked Terry.

It was a good question, and one John knew he’d eventually have to face when he started talking about disasters. It was as if the ice under his feet was cracking, and he was about to plunge, feet first, into icy water. The problem was, he wasn’t convinced the feeling he had about the Caldera was real, that it was more than just a little twinge of apprehension in his gut.

Another part of him, the insecure part, held on to the belief that his fears were without merit, and that he was over-reacting. He sincerely didn’t want to drag Terry into his paranoid world. John was almost completely torn between being a Chicken Little, and actually helping his friend. He wanted to warn Terry, but he wanted to do it without risk to his personal or professional personas.

Finally, John looked at Terry and said, “All I’m saying is that we take precautions. We prepare for the unexpected with insurance, right? I mean, we insure our vehicles, our homes, our jobs . . . you know, with
savings and retirement accounts. We even insure our health. We prepare for everything except for the basic, most important things we’ll ever need to live with, and that’s food and water.”

“You forgot life insurance.”

“Yeah, well, life insurance isn’t for you, it’s for those you leave behind. However, you do make a good point . . . a food and water storage is life insurance,” replied John.

Terry nodded and said, “You still haven’t told me why?”

John sighed and said, “Look, how long do you think you can live without water?”

“About three days,” said Terry, and he took an unintentional sip from his water bottle.

“And food?” continued John.

“I don’t know. About a week or so, depending on how many calories you burn, and all.”

“Right! You can live without your car, but it’s insured. You can live without your home, but it’s insured. You can live without your job, but it’s insured. You can live without medical care, which you don’t necessarily need as long as you stay healthy and uninjured, and that’s insured. But what do you do to insure yourself from thirst and hunger?”

Terry nodded again and John added, “If you’re like most people, you do absolutely nothing. Everyone assumes food will always be in our grocery stores, and clean drinking water will always flow from our taps.”

Terry was about to comment and John held up his hand to continue, “The point is, Terry, if we go to all that trouble to insure the things we really don’t need in the event of a disaster, why don’t we insure our lives with what we do need . . . food and water?”

Terry sighed and replied, “I hear you, but I don’t understand your intensity. Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know that more than ninety-percent of American’s aren’t prepared for disaster,” said John. As I sit here eating my lunch, I can’t help but think about the luxury of it all. This lunch made me think about what I would do without it.”

“You consider your lunch a luxury?”

“I do. The ability to eat anywhere, at any time, is a modern luxury that we take for granted.” John lifted his sun glasses and rested them on his head. He looked at Terry and aked, “What do you think people will do when there’s no food and water?”

“It would be like Baghdad after the fall of Saddam Hussein,” said Terry.

“Worse, I think,” said John. “The Iraqi people were resourceful. They didn’t expect any handouts. They’re a very resilient people.”

“You’re right,” said Terry. “I remember seeing goats eating the trash around town. I even saw a goat herder butcher up one, and sell the pieces along the side of the road.”

“Yeah, they made due. But I don’t see us being as resourceful as they were,” replied John. “American’s are much more entitlement minded . . . we’re much more dependent on government, essential services, technology, and the rule of law.” John wadded his own paper bag up into a ball and asked, “Have you ever heard about Maslow’s hierarchy?”

“Wasn’t it something about progression to self-actualization, that without our basic needs we couldn’t advance beyond the lowest level.”