299 Days: The Preparation

Chapter 39 The Unraveling

Grant was still looking for signs that people were starting to comprehend what was happening. He wasn’t seeing many. Then something happened that surprised him.

Government started to make cuts. Real cuts, not the “reorganizations” of the past where promises were made to cut, but the total number of government employees and spending actually went up. These cuts were real. The Governor ordered a 10% across the board cut in most state programs. The unions and all the people with their hands out, from welfare recipients to the corporations, went ballistic. It was fun to watch.

None of the higher-up state employees in Grant’s neighborhood were getting laid off. The Baby Boomers about to retire kept their jobs while the younger workers making much less were largely the ones losing their state jobs.

Local governments were cutting even more than the state. The City of Olympia, which had one of the highest ratios of government employees to residents in the country, cut a staggering 20% of their workforce. It was unbelievable. A few years earlier, as a “stimulus” project, the city had built a $10 million city hall and now it was largely empty because the city couldn’t afford to hire any workers to fill the space. Classic government: spend like drunken sailors when the money is pouring in, and then drastically cut services when the money dries up.

The part of the city’s cuts that affected people the most were the layoffs in the police department. Not only were there 20% fewer patrolmen, but the fuel budget was severely cut. Those fewer patrolmen could drive around less. It became rare to see a police car anywhere. The criminals figured this out very quickly. Investigation of crimes that were hard to solve, such as an attack by a stranger or a burglary, were going by the wayside. White collar crime was no longer investigated, at all. Neither were DUIs. Crimes where someone knew who did it, like theft by former friends, were still being investigated.

They were half-assed investigations, however.

Of course, with the huge cuts at the Prosecutor’s Office, fewer and fewer cases were being prosecuted. Plea bargains were the answer, and the deals for criminals kept getting sweeter and sweeter. Predictably, the cops basically quit arresting people for property and drug crimes. There were only enough police and prosecutors to take care of easy-to-solve violent crimes. Many people who had never called the police to report a crime were shocked to learn that they needed to fill out a police report on the city’s website and that was it. No police officer would show up to talk to them. People were told to fill out a police report online; that was usually as far as the “investigation” went.

People like Grant, who lived in safe neighborhoods, started to hear about their friends getting burglarized, and even robbed. One of the support staff at WAB had a burglar come into her house late at night. Luckily, she had a gun and scared him out. He might not have only been looking to burglarize her.

Grant started to notice that petty criminals were hanging out together. It used to be common to see one or two dirtbags; now, they seemed to travel in groups. Lately, five or ten “youths” would mill about downtown by the WAB offices looking like they were ready to cause trouble. It would be a stretch to call them a “gang,” but they were the beginnings of gangs. “Gang seedlings” Grant called them. They were unemployed punks hanging out together and working together to steal and do worse. In the past, when Grant saw them they would disburse because they didn’t want the attention. But as time went on, they didn’t do that as much. They would stand there and stare as if to say, “Whatcha looking at, dickhead?”

Grant had a solution. Carry a gun. He had his concealed weapons permit, so he could. Although he liked his full-sized Glock 22 in .40, it was a little large for concealed carry. So he got a compact Glock in .40, a Glock model 27. Grant knew how to operate the Glock 27 because it was just a smaller version of the Glock 22 he had mastered. It was perfect. He carried two spare 10-round magazines because, with increasingly large packs of criminals, Grant knew that he would likely have to fight off a group of them.

When he couldn’t wear a Glock 27, he would slip his 380 auto LCP in a pants pocket. He was armed nearly all the time, even at work. No one knew. He didn’t advertise that he was carrying; he didn’t want people to think he was weird or, when they needed protection, come flocking to him. He wanted to just lay low and protect himself and his family.

He had to hide his gun from Lisa, of course. He kept it in the car, in a locked console that was legal under Washington law.

Grant constantly worried about Lisa being out and about with all the crime going on. She was a petite and beautiful woman. That thought was awful.

He tried once to suggest that she get consider carrying a gun.

She rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. That hurt. All he was trying to do was suggest a practical way to protect his wife. But, decades of Lisa’s upbringing that guns are weird and unnecessary was too strong to change. This was despite all the stories of people she knew who had become victims of crime. Carrying a gun was just… something a normal person didn’t do.

Grant tried a second time to convince her. His birthday was coming up and she asked him, “What would you like for your birthday?”

“I’d like something that doesn’t cost anything and makes me very happy,” he said with a smile.

“You already get too much sex,” she said with a grin.

“Well, you’ll need to get your hands dirty for what I have in mind,” he said with that same bedroom smile.

“You sicko,” she replied.

“I mean getting some ink on your fingers when you get your fingerprints taken for your concealed weapons permit,” Grant said. “I am really, really concerned for your safety, dear. Seriously. All joking aside. I’m worried about you. Please do this for me. It’s my birthday.”

“What’s your second choice?” She asked.

That was it. No more talk of her getting a concealed weapons permit. A few days later, one of her friends she went running with was attacked by some teenagers in the parking lot at work. Grant didn’t even bother to say anything resembling “I told you so.” It was a lost cause. Grant hoped — actually, prayed — for the best.

At the same time criminals were learning that they could practically get away with anything, the economy started sucking even more. Why even attempt to have a legitimate job? There weren’t any. Crime paid; literally.

Grant was at the grocery store with Manda and Cole one Saturday. All the prices were way higher. It happened suddenly. Cole’s favorite pancakes had been $2.79, and now they were $4.15. That kind of price increase was typical for other foods. Gas was going up, too, almost one dollar per gallon at a time. Suddenly, there were shortages of medical supplies and prescription drugs. A significant portion of the population was on at least one prescription drug. They had never been told by a pharmacist, “We’re out of that.” They couldn’t believe it. Didn’t their prescriptions just appear at the store and someone else paid for them?

Police check points were springing up. They police asked people to “voluntarily” allow them to search their vehicles; most did.

In Olympia, there were increasing numbers of traffic jams from all the protests due to all the budget cuts and high prices.

People were starting to figure out that things weren’t going so well.

About time.