Prepper Central: A Prepper Fiction Novel (Prepping - Together we will Survive Book 1)

Prepper Central

Having conversations with my dad was exhausting. Being an avid prepper- one who always ensured that his parents don’t get left behind- I always made a point to update mom and dad about the going-ons of the country. So, upon having listened to that pretty redhead news reporter inform the entire country that we were heading closer and closer to economic collapse, I knew there was a phone call to be made.

‘Dad,’ I yelled into the phone, knowing that he’d hold it a considerable distance from his ear due to fears of either ear or brain cancer.

‘Jimmy,’ he yelled back, sounding as though he was a mile away.

‘Dad, shit’s seriously about to hit the fan.’

Of course, I waited for him to inform mom before coming back to me with an answer. This was typical. Every conversation with him was a conversation that needed to be relayed to mom.

‘Darling, you’ve got to hurry. Jimmy says shit’s about to hit the fan and I ain’t got time to be changing sheets tonight.’

I almost choked on the beer I’d taken a sip of while waiting for him to answer. ‘No dad, not
that
kind of fan.’

‘I’ve only got one damn fan in this house Jimmy. What other fan could you possibly be talking about?’

Dad should have gotten used to this by now but it was the same game each and every single time. I’d use a term a million and one times and he’d take it way too literally. ‘Shit won’t be hitting anyone’s fan dad. It’s one of those sayings…’

‘Sayings,’ he interrupted. ‘You damn near gave your mother a heart attack over some saying. Boy. I’ve been telling you that hanging round these gangs of preparers isn’t good for you brain.’

‘They’re not a gang dad and they’re called preppers.
We’re
called preppers,’ I said proudly.

‘You hear that honey,’ he called out to mom again. ‘They call themselves peppers. I guess they think they’re too hot for any of us with all their sayings and things.’

‘Preppers dad. Preppers with an
R
.’

‘I know how to spell peppers, boy. I might have finished school a long long time ago, but my education is something that I’ll take to the grave. P. E.P.P.E.R.S- one R, peppers.’

‘Two R’s dad,’ I insisted though I wasn’t sure why I bothered.

‘P.R.E.P.P.E.R.S.’ I spelled as slowly as humanly possible.

Rather than accepting that I knew what I was talking about, dad cackled like a batch of pigskin tossed into a burning fire. After getting mom involved in his minute long laughter and finally catching his breath, he decided to continue our conversation.

‘So, what kind of shit did you say is hitting whose fan now?’

‘Things are getting real bad dad. That’s all I mean. Have you been watching the news? I told you that you need to start tuning into it.’

‘Your mom and I have got way too much to do. We haven’t had time to start messing around with that stupid box you glued to our living room wall.’

‘I didn’t glue…’ I stopped. There was no point in arguing with him that glue couldn’t possibly make the deafening sounds that my drill did when it was burying holes into his wall. ‘Okay, well. The riots are getting bigger and so, maybe in a week or so, you two will need to think about heading over here and staying for a while. At least until everything calms down.’

There was a pause, followed by a snappy comment that I didn’t quite hear. ‘What did mom say?’ I prompted.

‘She said you’re trying to stick us into one of those dying homes.’

Dying homes? I was truly confused. Dare I ask what a dying home was? Well, silly me, not being able to figure it out, I decided to ask dad what exactly a dying home was meant to be.

‘Those places where they send old people like me to die. You know, like the one Laina from down the street got stuck into a month before she kicked the bucket.’

‘I’m pretty sure you mean retirement community.’

‘No, where I live is a retirement community. Not a darn soul in this neighborhood works anymore. Not even that one boy your age who keeps blasting through the streets all hours of the night.’

Frank, the guy my dad referred to, was at least ten years older than me, and a cab driver.

‘Okay dad. Whatever it is, I’m not planning on sending you to one of them.’

The truth was, I would never, not in a million years put my parents in a nursing home. Rather than playing bingo and gossiping like regular old folk, he and mom would ensure that each nurse, doctor and gardener quit before they’d even gone through their first shift with them.

‘So where is it that you’re planning on sending us then?’

‘I’m suggesting,’ I had to put that in there to ensure that he knew he had a choice. ‘I’m simply just suggesting that you and mom come and stay with me for a while.’

Mom yelled something in the background about Hitler and it was then that I realized the conversation hadn’t yet reached the boiling point of ridiculousness.

‘Mom’s asking why we should believe you. It’s not like Hitler warned all those folk that he’d be sending them to concentration camps to…’

‘Y’all aren’t seriously taking me inviting you into my home as me trying to pull a Hitler, are you?’

‘Ain’t nobody say that son but we’ve got to be careful.’

I took a deep breath trying to calm the nerves that they were clearly hoping to wreck. I should have gotten used to their stubbornness by now but it truly was a task more impossible than one would believe. There wasn’t a time when those two could just muster up the logic to realize that maybe, just maybe, I knew better.

‘Yes dad, you’ve got to be careful. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time. The banks have been shelling out loans like nothing else and people are losing their money left right and center. You know what that leads to?’

‘Whatever it leads to doesn’t affect me Jimmy. I’ve never trusted those banks from the days they started setting up shop. All those pretentious men dressed up like they’re going to a funeral. I don’t know who they thought they’d be intimidating.’

‘Surely not you dad.’

‘Damn right they didn’t intimidate me. Can’t say the same about most of the folk in this town. Running around in their Sunday best to put their hard earned cash in the hands of some squanderer.’

‘Okay dad. I get that you haven’t put any money in the bank and so you and mom think you’re safe because when all hell breaks loose, you’ll still be able to head down to the shop and pick up a bottle of whisky. However, you’re wrong because that shop owner, well, his money’s in the bank.’ Dad let out a groan which I ignored because any pause would mean allowing him to enter the conversation without hearing me out. ‘And you know what happens then? The shop owner goes broke and there’s no more whisky for you to buy.’

‘Then I’ll…’

Full force. I was going full force. There was no time to let him interrupt again. ‘No dad. You won’t be able to go to the other shop because that’ll be closed too. All the shops in Cherry Hills will be down because everyone will be drawing their money from the bank and when the bank goes broke, the people get screwed. So, with all that, there’ll be no buying
anything
for you. No bread, no crackers, no jerky, nothing. Oh and let’s not forget that when the majority of the people in your little neighborhood have nothing, they’ll be turning to you for everything.’

‘I’m smarter than that boy. If they didn’t have the senses to…’

‘Oh, you think they’re gonna come and ask for it nicely. Nope. Not a chance. They’ll take it. They’ll force their way into your home, tie up your wife and rob you blind.’

‘You’re running up your mother’s blood pressure Jimmy.’

Finally, the ridicule stopped and fear was instilled. It’s not that I liked having them worry but god, fear was the only thing that woke up their common sense.

‘Tell mom I’m terribly sorry.’ Noticing that she was probably sitting only inches away from him at this point, I decided to address her directly. ‘I’m sorry mom, I didn’t mean to get you all anxious and stuff, I just need you guys to take this thing seriously.’

The muffled and chaotic sounds that came through my end of the phone told me that mom had gripped it and was now presenting herself as ‘
haver of the conversation’
.

‘So what you’re saying,’ her weak but sweet voice chimed in, ‘is that we need to be scared.’

‘Mom,’ I met the fragility of her tone, ‘I’m saying you need to be prepared. Preparation is what will drive away the fear.’

‘This sounds serious honey,’ she said to my dad who I’m certain was busy rolling his eyes in hopes that the conversation would soon dissipate. ‘Maybe we should just listen to the boy and go to one of those homes.’

‘I’m not planning on sending you to a home mom,’ I intruded, my voice crisper this time.

‘So what was all this talk about?’

‘I was planning on having you guys stay with me for a bit. At least until the economy stabilizes and I’m sure that y’all will be safe in your own home.’

‘Why can’t we just prepare, like you said.’

‘Because it takes time. Plus, I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing that we’re not together. It’s not like when things go bad,’ I refrained from saying shit hit the fan as to avoid confusion similar to the one earlier on in the conversation, ‘I’ll just be able to swoop over there and help out.’

‘Okay dear,’ the tone of her voice told me that she was starting to accept what I’d said, ‘I’ve got to talk to your dad ‘bout all this and see where we go from there but I can’t promise you that I’ll be ready to fold up my sheets and move in with you tomorrow.’

‘Like I said, mom, it might take months, it might take years, it might not even happen, but I just wanted you guys to know that
if
and only
if
things get to the point where I think you’ll be in danger, I’ll make sure to pick you guys up and keep you safe.’ Dad mumbled something in the background which I’m sure poked at my suspicions in a less than understanding manner, ‘I love you guys’, I yelled into the phone.

‘We love you too,’ mom answered for the both of them.

***

I placed the phone down on the coffee table in front of me and reveled in the relief that took hold of my body once the conversation came to an end. To my left, sat Marge, my wife, who looked as though she’d been stifling a giggle for longer than one’s health would regularly allow.

‘Spit it out,’ I threw her a smile that permitted her to laugh harder than she’d ever laughed before.

Once she’d finally caught her breath and sustained her laughter, she said, ‘did they really think that someone was throwing shit into their fan?’

This prompted me to mimic her laughter. ‘Can you believe how literal these old people take things? Sometimes I just wanna reach into the phone and strangle some sense into dad.’

‘The best part though, Jimmy,’ she ran her hands through her curly auburn hair, ‘is that he just doesn’t get how hilarious he is. I swear, we should tape them and send it to a television station. We’d be richer than rich.’

‘Tell me about it. When I was younger, he’d always think that I was being rude for not taking him seriously.’

‘Yeah, I know. He’s always reminding me of how screwed I’ll be if I have a kid who turned out like you.’

I scooted my way over on the colossal, brown leather couch and rested a hand on my wife’s stomach. We’d found out only a few weeks ago that we’d be bringing a child into the world and though the timing couldn’t have been less ideal-with the crisis about to break loose- I was overjoyed. We’d put off having a child for way too long and at thirty-eight years old, she had her difficulties getting pregnant once we’d decided to try. However, that aspect of things was over now and even if life threw us a massive curveball, we’d still have something positive to look forward to.

‘When do they start kicking?’ I asked, my hand still resting on her normal sized stomach.

‘About the sixteenth week, or so, the doctor said.’

‘Ah. I can’t wait. You know, sometimes I feel like I can feel him in there.’

‘That’s probably just gas,’ Marge chuckled.

This was something that I loved about Marge. How open she was with me- how, unlike many women, she’d say the grossest things in the most casual manner, making them normal. Our relationship certainly had our ups and downs, especially with her shutting herself off from the world when her mom, and the only parent she had left, passed away. However, all that tragedy was over now and we were in a great place in our relationship and I couldn’t have been happier.

‘Okay, my little stinker,’ I planted a kiss on her cheek, ‘would you like to come with me to the meeting or are you planning on sitting this one out?’

‘Actually, I think I’m gonna come along this time. I’m feeling pretty okay and plus, I’ve got to talk to Cindy about her becoming my doctor.’

‘Alrighty.’ I made my way into the bedroom to grab a sweatshirt for Marge and another for myself.

‘The pink and purple one with the flower on the left okay?’ I yelled to my wife who hadn’t changed her position on the couch. Our bedroom, being right across from the living room, made it easy for me to step back from the dresser and glance at her.