Patriots: A Novel of Survival in the Coming Collapse

CHAPTER 5 Squared Away

Dan and Mike helped Mary set up a bed for Rose next to the C.Q. desk. It seemed to be the logical location, since someone would be there to watch her condition around the clock. The only detractor was that everyone had to be especially quiet when they were in the front end of the house. Rose slept almost continuously for two days. Every four hours, whomever was on C.Q. duty woke her to give her dose of ampicillin and offer her something to eat or drink. She refused anything but water for the first eighteen hours, then she started drinking some juice. At four a.m. on the third morning, Rose sat up in bed and asked for some pancakes. T.K., who had C.Q. duty at the time, stepped over to the kitchen and filled her request. She was working on her fourth pancake and gulping down her second glass of orange juice when she asked, “Who are you?”

“My name’s Kennedy, Tom Kennedy. Everybody calls me ‘T.K.’ I’m the personnel honcho around here.”

“Oh, so you’re T.K. I’ve heard Jeff talk about you. He said that you study ancient languages and that you’re a Catholic minister.”

He gave a half smile, and retorted, “That’s not quite right, I’m only a lay minister. I helped give communion at mass. I’ll be leading the daily Bible studies here.”

“He also said that you’re an awesome shot with a rifle.”

“Well, gosh, ‘awesome’ is a superlative term I don’t deserve, at least not among the serious shooting fraternity. By most people’s standards, I guess I am an excellent shooter. I practice with an Anshutz .22 match rifle, my AR-15, and my M1 Garand at the range quite a bit. I also like to shoot in the quarterly competitive High Power matches.”

Rose frowned. “You should start using the past tense when you’re talking about things like that. From what we saw getting out of Illinois, there’s total anarchy everywhere. Houses on fire or burned down. We went through some neighborhoods where there had been frame houses, and all that was left standing were the chimneys. Lots of bodies just littering the street. People looting stores. It looked like footage from Iraq.”

After a pause she asked, “Are you going to let Jeff and me stay here? I mean, from what he told me, Jeff hasn’t been a member of your group for a couple of years, and you’ve just met me.”

T.K. stroked his chin. “I don’t know. With an issue this big, it’ll be up to a vote of the entire group.”

As soon as Rose had eaten her fill of scrambled eggs and pancakes, T.K. went to wake up Jeff, who was asleep on the hide-a-bed sofa. “Hey, Trasel,” he said, “There’s a cute-looking gal with a tremendous appetite in the next room that I think would like to see you.”

Later the same morning, the power went off. Everyone in the house immediately met in the dim gloom of the shuttered living room. None of them held out much hope of it being a temporary power failure. With an air of finality, Todd pronounced, “Well, that’s it. I suppose that our clocks will be reading 10:17 for who knows how long. Months?Years? Maybe decades. From now on, we’ll have to conserve power considerably. We do have a lot of power sources to charge the batteries though. We’ve got the solar panels, the Winco when it’s windy, and our hand crank generator. Starting now, no one will use any more power than is absolutely necessary.”

Todd went to the circuit breaker box in the utility room and toggled off most of the breakers. The only ones that he left on were the breakers for the inside power outlets. He then turned off the main breaker, disconnecting the house’s circuits from the power main. He explained that if the power were to come back on unexpectedly with the inverter set up, it could cause some real fireworks. Then he switched on the Xantrex inverter—a device that turned 12 volts D.C. into 120 volts A.C.

Next, Todd went around the house unplugging the “nonessentials.” This included the computer equipment in his office, and nearly all of the lamps. As he was unplugging his now-silent PC, Todd said, “Well now I’m glad that I didn’t sink any money into that mega gighertz machine I was planning to buy.”

The only lamps that he didn’t unplug were five low-wattage bulbs located in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, and on the C.Q. desk in the living room. All five of these used Panasonic fifteen-watt compact fluorescent bulbs. Once their small supply of fluorescent bulbs ran out, Todd planned to rely on a set of light-bulb adapters that he had purchased from Real Goods in Hopland, California.

These adapters screwed into a standard lamp socket. Within each was a “bayonet socket” that held twelve VDC automotive tail lamps. Todd predicted that there would soon be a lot of abandoned vehicles from which to procure spare tail lamps.

The only other electronic items that still had power were the shortwave radio, the police scanner, the CB base station, an alarm system, and the charger for small batteries. All four of these ran directly on twelve-volt power, rather than through the inverter. When he had unplugged the last of the unneeded items, Todd announced: “That should do it. If it turns out that the battery bank stays up at a reasonable level, then we’ll reconnect things, one at a time.

In the meantime, however, we’ll just take the conservative approach. We’ll be using the kerosene lamps to supplement the compact fluorescents from this point forward.”

“Now I know why they called the last one of these little setbacks ‘the Dark Ages,’” Mary offered, with a wry smile.

Todd called for a meeting during lunch. He posted Jeff on LP/OP duty during the meeting. Just before Jeff left to walk up the hill and relieve Lisa, Todd remarked: “I guess that you have already figured out why I want you away during the meeting. I just want you to know that you’ll be getting my vote. Don’t get your hopes up, however. The process for voting in new members hasn’t changed. It’s still just like at a fraternity. One black-ball, and that’s all she wrote.”

Jeff nodded stiffly. “I assure you that I’ll pull my own weight around here.

I’m sure that Rose will, too. She’s a good little worker.”With that, Jeff turned and left.

Kevin fried elk-burgers for everyone, using the last of the meat from the freezer, and some of the last of the store-bought bread. He seasoned the burgers with onion salt and teriyaki sauce. Todd began the formal part of the session with the words:“There are two purposes for calling this meeting. The first is to decide if Jeff and Rose, assuming that she recovers, can stay. The second is to get squared away with the operations of the retreat. On the first order of business, I want to let you all know that Jeff has promised me that if they are voted in, he and Rose will pull their share of the weight. To my way of thinking, the key questions are: First, do we really need their help? Second, can they be trusted to perform well, especially under stress? Third, can we afford the extra mouths to feed?”

The debate on Jeff and Rose went on for half an hour. In the course of the debate, Dan Fong, the only member who had kept in contact with Jeff regularly after he had left the group, was asked to bring everyone up to date with what had been happening with him during the interim. He recounted:“Jeff is still in the Marine Corps Reserve, and was still running and doing calisthenics three times a week to stay in shape. Right after he left the group, he got a job as a quality control inspector with Radian Corporation, working in their microwave tube division. He worked full-time for a year, then switched to part-time to go back to school. The last I heard, he had transferred from junior college to the University of Illinois. God knows how many credits he’s accumulated by now. As most of you have heard, at last report, Jeff was still living at his parent’s home.”

Without pausing, Dan went on to brief the group on Rose’s particulars:

“Her last name is Creveling. She’s young, only nineteen, maybe twenty. She was just starting her sophomore year at the University of Illinois—the Chicago Circle campus—when the Schumer hit the fan. She was majoring in advertising, but she hadn’t started her upper-division courses yet. Jeff just met her last spring. They’ve been dating steadily ever since. Jeff told me that he was attracted to Rose because she seemed intelligent and was real outdoorsy. Skiing, backpacking, kayaking, that sort of thing. Trasel started teaching her how to shoot last summer. She’s a Christian. Reformed Lutheran, I think. She’s also a vegetarian. She doesn’t eat meat or fish, but she does eat eggs, milk, and cheese. I really can’t say that I know much more than that about her, except that Trasel told me that she came from a ‘La-Ti-Dah’ family in Aurora.”

As the debate progressed, it became apparent that with the LP/OP, C.Q., and work schedule that they had planned, they would be shorthanded even with the help of Jeff and Rose, especially during the summer months. It was also clear that there would be plenty of food. The only remaining issues were their willingness to work, their loyalty, and their ability to handle stress. On the latter issue, all present were confident about Jeff, but Rose was an unknown.

The issue of her vegetarianism was raised by T.K., who asked, “Does anyone feel that it will be a liability?” Mary piped up strongly in reply: “On the contrary, I think that she’ll be better metabolically adjusted than we are, given the fact that our diet will be heavy on grains and legumes.” Kennedy simply nodded in agreement.

The last major issue raised was by Lisa Nelson. She asked, “What about Rose’s health? What if she doesn’t fully recover from her wound?”Again, Mary spoke up on her behalf. “I’d like to say something on that. From what I’ve read, it’s very unlikely that this kind of wound will leave her an invalid. I’ve been checking her wound three times a day. It is healing nicely. I’ve given her lots of antibiotics, and there is no sign of infection. Once she makes it past the stage she’s in now, where there’s risk of infection, her chances are pretty darned good, especially considering that she is young and has kept in good health. Past that, the biggest risk in the next few weeks is of a hemorrhage, and presumably we can keep her on very light duty while her tissues heal. In the long term, she’ll probably feel some aches and pains, and at worst she may have a limited range of motion in her shoulder, but probably nothing that would make her a burden on the rest of the group.”

When the discussion started winding down, T.K. suggested a paper ballot vote. When all of the votes were tallied a few minutes later, the vote was unanimous to bring both Jeff and Rose into the group. Following T.K.’s reading of the ballots, Todd again took the floor. He ran down his view of how things should be operated on a day-to-day basis at the retreat. There were few surprises in what he had to say. Most of what he said had been discussed at meetings before the Crunch, and much of it was already in written form in SOPs.

He began: “I’ve got to remind you of some ground rules. The LP/OP and the Charge-of-Quarters desk are to be manned continuously. No one quits their post unless properly relieved. We’ll find some pretty disgusting chores—or worse—for anybody that we catch asleep on duty. One new item: to generate power to supplement the solar panels and wind generator, whomever is on C.Q. duty will turn the hand crank generator at least one hour out of each shift.”With this comment, there were groans all around the table. Todd bit his lip and then added, “Just think of the great exercise we’ll be getting. By next spring, we’ll all look like Fiddler crabs.”

Todd waited for the group to settle down, and then went on. “Next, we don’t ever, ever walk out of the house unless we’re armed. That means a .45 as a minimum, preferably a rifle or a riotgun. When you are working on something outside, you always keep your long gun within arm’s reach.

“Nobody fires any weapon for target practice, test firing, pest shooting—any shooting at all—without the permission of the tac coordinator. The same goes for firing up a chain saw, the two-kilowatt generator, or anything else that has a noisy signature. Any trips outside the perimeter are to be treated as patrols, with a full combat load, an op. order, inspections and rehearsals, assigned rally points, the whole works.

“Next item of business: starting now, especially because the utility power is out, we have to keep full light, noise, and litter discipline. We don’t want to be sticking out like a ‘come loot me’ beacon in the countryside at night. That means that the blackout blankets have to be in place before sunset every night.

It will be the responsibility of whoever is on C.Q. duty to walk around the outside of the house to check for light leaks and make the necessary corrections. The same thing goes for up at the LP/OP. No flashlights without two thicknesses of red filters, and even then, you can only turn on a flashlight to consult a map or whatever with the flaps down over the gun ports. If you are outside and need to use a flashlight to examine a map or something, you do it under a poncho to block the light. Also, starting this afternoon, I want everybody in uniform whenever they go outdoors. No exceptions.”

Todd had only a few more words before he opened the floor for discussion.

“So much for all the macho stuff. Now down to some more mundane issues, such as, how are we going to handle the eating and sleeping arrangements?”

The discussion on these subjects went on for another half hour. It was decided that aside from meals eaten on picket duty, everyone would eat communally, albeit at different hours. Nominally, the food for any given day was to come out of the stored food of one individual, on a rotating basis. This worked out well, because most of the group members had stored similar, or in many cases, identical, foodstuffs.

Sleeping arrangements also worked out well, although things were as Mike described it, “A bit cozy.” The group’s three bachelors, T.K., Kevin, and Dan, were to share one of the bedrooms. The room had only two twin long size beds, but because of round-the-clock security shifts, they could “hot rack”

them, as the Navy did on its submarines. The Grays would have a bedroom to themselves, while the Nelsons would have the other bedroom. Jeff and Rose, being low couple on the totem pole, got the basement. The hide-a-bed from the living room would be moved down for their use. The Laytons were the only missing part of the equation. It was decided that sleeping arrangements would be reorganized if and when they arrived.

Also in reference to the Laytons, Todd declared, “Last item of business: Assuming that they won’t be arriving for a while, I’d like to temporarily assign Lisa with Terry’s responsibilities as logistics coordinator. Does that sound agreeable?” There were nods all around the room.

“Very well then, Lisa is now the authority and final arbiter when it comes to ‘beans, bullets, and Band-Aids.’”

After looking down at his boots for a moment, Gray added, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention it, but for Rose’s reference, and as a reminder to you all, we’re now living a strict ‘Conserver’ lifestyle. We’ve got to make virtually everything we own last as long as possible. Just use common sense. For example, don’t waste a drop of anything, use both sides of each sheet of paper, and then when it is completely filled, save it for kindling. All vegetable matter goes to the compost heap, and all meat scraps and bones not used in soups or stews go to Shona. All metals, including aluminum foil, will be washed if necessary, sorted, and stored in scrap bins. Basically this means that we are going to have virtually no ‘trash.’ We have to live as if each item we use is our last, because with no means of resupply on the horizon, the day will come when we really are out of some things. And under the present circumstances, that may be more serious than a little discomfort.”

The next day, traveling in an armed convoy of four trucks, half of the group went to move out anything that might prove useful from Kevin’s house. With six people working and one posted on security, the moving process lasted just under five hours. The bulkiest item was Kevin’s set of photovoltaic panels. The entire solar tracker assembly, minus its support pole, was carried back sandwiched between a mattress and box spring in the bed of Todd’s pickup. It was the only Power Wagon in the group that was not equipped with a camper shell. Todd would have liked to put the tracker back in action at the retreat, but he did not have any of the extra heavy Schedule 40 four-inch diameter galvanized steel pipe that was needed for a new support pole. Moving Kevin’s support pole was out of the question. The lower three feet of the tracker pole was encased in a thirty-six-inch diameter cylinder of reinforced concrete.

When they got the array back to the retreat, they were able to get it hooked up in a series-parallel arrangement with the retreat’s existing eight-panel array.

Unfortunately, without a tracker pole, they had to make do and bolt the array up against the south side of the house at a forty-five-degree angle in a space between two windows. This at least provided 75 percent of the array’s potential power, and Kevin’s panels were safe from theft or vandalism during what looked like was going to be a prolonged absence from his home.

When Kevin’s stocks of storage food were added to the rest stored in the basement, it made a considerable difference. In fact, there was scarcely enough room to walk around. After the gear from Kevin’s was moved in, Todd asked Lisa to coordinate an inventory of all the expendable items that the group members had brought with them, including food, ammunition, and fuel. Lisa was told not to bother doing another inventory on their pre-positioned stocks, as Todd had been keeping up running inventories of these all along. Lisa asked for everyone to give her their inventories by 8 p.m.

In order to meet this deadline, Mike, who was on picket duty, had to dictate his inventory to the C.Q. over the field telephone. That evening, Todd and Lisa sat down with the inventory sheets and made some rough calculations. They were surprised at the results. Todd called for yet another meeting early the next day.

The meeting was held in the living room so that Rose could listen in without having to get out of bed. Todd began by reading from a written report that he and Lisa had prepared the evening before. “Assuming that Ken and Terry make it here safely, and nobody’s granny decides to show up, we’ll have a total of eleven people to support at the retreat. Also, assuming a normal diet, our combined stored food will last about 1,140 days.” On hearing that point, Jeff Trasel let out a loud whistle of descending pitch.

After the interruption, Todd went on. “If put on a more stringent diet with fewer calories, the supply could be stretched to last more than 1,700 days. Furthermore, this figure does not take into account any food that could be grown in our garden, or Camas bulbs or Bitterroot bulbs that we go out and dig, or game that we shoot or trap. And further still, there’s plenty of water available to expand our garden’s present capacity. The only constraint on expanding the garden would be fencing materials to keep the local deer population from wiping out our garden.”

At this juncture, Kevin spoke up. “I’ve noticed that the locals around here all fence their gardens, but they don’t bother fencing their corn patches. Couldn’t we do the same thing? All we have to do is cultivate another plot the size of the garden and we could have a great stand of corn.”

Todd gave a thumbs-up sign and replied, “Your point is well taken. Thanks, Kevin.”After stopping to look around the room, Todd explained, “We planned our food needs pretty well. We even socked away four hundred pounds of kibble for Shona. Once that is gone, she’ll have to make do on meat scraps. As for ammunition, we are in excellent shape—in all nearly 300,000 rounds, almost half of which is .22-rimfire. I won’t give a detailed list. Suffice it to say that we have plenty of ammunition. Assuming that ammunition will become the first recognizable form of currency when society starts to rebuild, consider yourselves filthy rich. Joe Schmo on the street probably only has a couple of hundred rounds on hand, on average.”

Lisa cut in. “Most of our calculations last night concerned fuel. There are currently a little over fourteen cords of firewood on hand. What can I say—Todd really likes cutting and splitting wood. Each summer, he cut twice as much as he needed. Given winters with normal temperatures, this supply could be enough to last at least three years. Of course, more wood can always be cut next summer and the summers thereafter. When the gasoline for the chain saws is either used up or has broken down too far to be usable, we can always use the hand two-man saws. That reminds me. We’ll have to find one of the old-timers around Bovill to teach how to set and sharpen those saws. It’s an almost lost art.

“The category of fuel that I am most concerned about is liquid fuels. Our diesel storage tank is presently almost full—about nine hundred gallons. It has been stabilized, and it has been treated with an antibacterial. You’ve all heard this before, but for Rose’s benefit, I’ll repeat it. The basic rule for fuel storage is: the more highly refined the fuel, the shorter its storage life. That means that kerosene will store for fifteen years or more, diesel stores for eight to ten years, and gasoline normally has only about a two-year storage life. Beyond that, it builds up gums and peroxides, and suffers decomposition of anti-knock compounds to the point that fuel filters clog up and engines won’t run. Also, the butane that is added to gasoline tends to evaporate. Once the butane burns off, starting an engine can be hard. You usually have to use a squirt of ether down the carb.

“In general, high temperatures and exposure to oxygen encourage the decomposition process. Stored fuel also tends to attract moisture, and that causes a whole ’nother set of problems. The storage life of all liquid fuels can be extended by the use of a special additive called Sta-Bil that delays the decomposition process, and we have plenty of that on hand. Overall, the best way to store fuel is in a completely full, sealed underground container.”

Todd picked up a beat later, “For our tractor, which is the only vehicle with a diesel engine, let’s assume that we have about a ten-year supply of fuel. I was planning to buy a diesel-powered pickup, but I never found one at a reasonable price. In retrospect, I should have made that a much higher priority. We’ll only be using the tractor for tilling and towing the trailer we use for hay and firewood. So for all intents and purposes, let’s assume we have plenty of diesel, unless this turns out to be one of those major whammy multigenerational scenarios that we’ve talked about.

“Gasoline, however, is probably going to be more of a problem. Our tank filled with premium unleaded is just under half full—about four hundred to four-hundred-and-twenty gallons. There’s another eighty-two gallons of various grades of gas in cans, and roughly sixty gallons in the fuel tanks of the various vehicles. All of the fuel in the underground storage tank has a stabilizer added to it, and is pretty well sealed against moisture, so I’m issuing a directive right here and now that the fuel in cans will be used first. We’ll probably be doing very little driving around the retreat, aside from wood and compost hauling. Therefore, most of the gasoline can be saved for use in chain saws or the Weed-Eater, or the occasional times that we have to fire up the gas-powered generator to provide power for larger electric tools such as drills, the Skilsaw, or the table saw. With gasoline, our problem is going to be storage life, not the total quantity we have stored. Even with stabilizer, we cannot depend on having reliable gasoline beyond five or six years. Hopefully, by then things will be back to normal.

“By far, our biggest headache is kerosene. Even though it stores quite well, there’s not enough of it. Mary and I only had four gallons of kerosene of our own stored here. Of the rest of the group, only T.K. thought to pre-position any, and that was only three one-gallon cans. Only two additional gallons were brought by those of you who recently arrived and we found about half of a one-gallon can at Kevin’s yesterday. Mary and I had planned to buy several twenty-gallon drums of kerosene, but we never got around to it, with so much else going on in fixing up the retreat. Oh well, like they say,‘hindsight is 20-20.’

The bottom line is that we are going to have to be very, very conservative in using kerosene lamps, and we cannot run Mike and Lisa’s Kerosun space heater at all, unless there’s an emergency or some special occasion.”

Lisa raised her hand and chimed in, “Well, Todd, that makes kerosene our highest priority for bartering, assuming that we find someone to barter with. Perhaps we can either trade some gasoline or some ammunition for kerosene. Otherwise, even with minimal use, we’ll probably be out of kerosene within at most three years.”

Todd nodded his head to the affirmative. “Very well. Unless there are any questions, that pretty well covers it for critical logistics. We are in good shape on all of the other categories, like medical supplies, batteries, toilet paper, clothing, camouflage face paint sticks, distilled water for the storage batteries, insect repellent, ladies’ supplies, and condoms.”

Rose giggled after hearing Todd’s last comment.

Lisa eyed Rose and offered, “I think that as time goes on, aside from the odd glitch like the kerosene, you’ll find that we thought out what we would need very carefully and thoroughly right down to the last diaper pin.”

Just then, Todd felt a cold, wet nose touch his elbow. He shouted, “Now who let Shona in?”

Lisa said weakly, “I’m afraid I did.”

Todd gave Lisa a scowl and said, “One more point of clarification. Shona has a job to do just like the rest of us. Her job is to secure the area inside the chain-link fence, and give warning of anything she detects is amiss within range of her eyes, ears, or nose. Basically, she operates as a backup for the LP/

OP, and as such, she’s part of our life insurance. Please resist the urge to spoil her. She is not to be let into the house again. Period. Don’t worry if it’s cold outside. Shona is used to it. She has a nice snug and warm insulated doghouse that I built for her. It’s okay if you give her the occasional pet or pat her on the head, but please remember that she’s a working bitch.”

After letting Shona back outside and giving her a scratch under her collar and a pat on the head, Todd walked back in and carried on with his agenda.

“The next item of business is our duty schedule. I think that Mike is much better qualified to brief this subject.”

With that, Todd sat down, and Mike stood up and cleared his throat. “Okay, here’s the rundown on the duty sked. Both picket and C.Q. shifts are six hours long and are on a semi-rotating basis. That means that once you get assigned a block of time, say 0700 to 1300, you can always depend on having the same shift. Because there are nine of us here, everybody should have either C.Q. or LP/OP duty once a day. Security is always the priority, so work schedules will be made around the picket and C.Q. sked, rather than vice versa. I tried to set the shifts based on my past experience with you during field exercises. Kevin and I, for example, are night owls by nature, so we will almost always have the swing or graveyard shift. So will you, Jeff. Not so much because you are a late sleeper, but because your night vision is only one notch below Kevin’s, and, as everybody here except Rose already knows, Kevin’s night eyes are pretty phenomenal.

“Okay. I’ll be posting copies of the sked at both the LP/OP, and at the C.Q. desk. That way, nobody can plead ignorance as an excuse for not showing up to relieve somebody on time. I’m going to have to insist that we stick to the rule in the SOP that only the tac coordinator has the authority to make changes to the sked. If two of you mutually agree to occasionally swap a shift, okay. But let’s not make a habit of it, and once again, every change has to be specifically approved by me, and well in advance. That’s the only way we can keep the sked from disintegrating into chaos. Also, I cannot overemphasize that when you are on either LP/OP or C.Q. duty, your main job is to keep your counterpart awake and alert. Call each other on the field phone at least once each half hour. That’s all I have to say. Any questions? Okay, I’m done.”

Mike sat down abruptly and Todd again took his feet and said, “The last item of business that I had planned also has to do with security, in a way. That item is our vehicles. In case you haven’t noticed, our gravel turn-around circle out there looks like a used car lot. To my way of thinking, the only vehicles that we will be likely to use right here at the retreat are the pickups and the tractor, primarily for hauling hay and firewood. We have room to store three vehicles in a row in the garage, so I’d like to put T.K.’s Bronco up on blocks or jack stands in the back, Mike’s Power Wagon in the middle—also on blocks, to make the tires last longer—and my Power Wagon in the front. Because it doesn’t have a camper shell, it seems to be the handiest vehicle for hauling things. We should keep all three of these vehicles topped off with stabilized fuel at all times. As for the tractor, we’ll park it in the end of the woodshed for the time being. When we cut more wood and fill that overgrown woodshed, probably late next spring, we’ll make other parking arrangements.

“As for the other vehicles, I think that we should drive them all out under the cover of the trees in the wood lot. The ground is frozen solid in the mornings this time of year, and it’s relatively level so we won’t have any problems getting even the two-wheel-drive rigs back there. I’d like to get them as far back into the woods as possible. We’ll cover the shot-out windows on Dan’s Toyota with sheet plastic to keep the rain out. The windshield area will also have to be covered with plywood or whatnot, otherwise snow will just pile up and push in the Visqueen.

“I also want you to cover all the exposed glass on your vehicles with burlap sacks to stop reflections. We have a large supply of burlap sacks, so we can cover all the glass. We also have a lot of olive drab duct tape, so go ahead and tape over all of your reflectors and turn signal plastic. You can either take off or tape over your license plates since they reflect too. I also have several cans of flat black spray paint and rolls of masking tape that you can use for blacking out any residual chrome plated pieces. For any vehicle that might have its outline show from the road, we’ll cover it with a camouflage net held up by spreaders or hung from tree limbs. Once we have these vehicles parked, we’ll drain their gas tanks into cans, disconnect their batteries, drain their radiators, and put them up on blocks.” There were a few sour looks at Todd’s last suggestion. “I knew that this wouldn’t be a popular decision, but we just don’t have the storage space, and it’s a security risk having all those cars out in plain view.”

All around the room, heads nodded in agreement.

“Is there any other new or old business?” Todd asked.

Lisa raised her hand. “I just want to remind everyone about the importance of brushing and flossing our teeth after every meal. Mary bought two of those Navy surplus monster rolls of floss. And we have a considerable supply of salt and baking soda for once the toothpaste runs out. We have absolutely got to be conscientious about this. Without a dentist here, the best we can do is to replace a filling that falls out, and we only have the weaker temporary-type filling compound for that. The only other option is pulling teeth. Enough said.”

After seeing that she was done, Dan Fong raised his hand and remarked, “Boss, I have an item, too. I’d like to see everyone that owns an AR-15 or CAR-15 in the back bedroom after lunch.”

After the meeting, Jeff lingered by Rose’s bed. “Is that the way the meetings usually go?” Rose asked.

“Yep, Todd pretty well calls the shots except for tactical things, where he used to depend on me, and now defers to Mike. Luckily, Todd has a good head on his shoulders, and has sound judgment. Also, I’ve never known him to hold a grudge.”

“How did the group get set up like this? Isn’t it a bit autocratic?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Rose, ten years or more ago, when they first set up the Group, they tried running it with votes on every issue. They realized that that was fine in peacetime. The only detractor was that it slowed some meetings down to a snail’s pace. But in times like these, what we need are firm, prompt orders, and no messing around. One-man-one-vote and endless debate just doesn’t cut it in a survival situation.”

Meanwhile, T.K., Mary, and Lisa showed up to meet with Dan, just as he had asked. “Go ahead, take a seat there,” Dan said, pointing to the rumpled bed.

They all had curious expressions. Dan held up a milled block of metal just over an inch long and articulated, “This is a drop-in auto-sear. I’m sure that at least one or two of you have heard of these. They’re illegal as all get out, but under the current circumstances, I don’t think that the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms is likely to send anyone out to investigate if somebody hears a gun get a bit hyperactive here at the retreat.”

A smile widened across T.K.’s face. Mary and Lisa still looked puzzled. Dan carried on with his lecture. “There was a neat loophole in the law. Machineguns were of course tightly restricted in the Federal United States, subject to a two-hundred-dollar transfer tax. They have been taxed this way ever since the National Firearms Act got passed in 1934. There are also some separate laws in some states that require registration of full autos, and in some cases an absolute ban.

“After about 1981, some full auto conversion parts like auto-sears themselves also became illegal. However, a loophole existed for a few years that allowed people to sell auto-sear component parts ‘for repair or replacement purposes only.’ In fact, there was at least one outfit that sold ‘repair’ auto-sear bases, and another that sold ‘repair’ auto-sear springs, cams, and pins. Just by ‘coincidence,’ these two businesses were located only a few miles apart. For a couple of years, these guys did a brisk business. I actually bought these a few years after that loophole closed. These were manufactured before the McClure-Volkmer law was signed, so they were grandfathered under a different loophole.

“I got mine the same way that Kevin got the bastard crystals for our Trick five hundreds. I used a drop box using a false ID that I worked up, just so I wouldn’t get caught. Because I knew that the loophole would eventually be closed, I took the opportunity to buy six of them. They cost me one-hundred-seventy-five dollars each.” Now, all three of Dan’s guests were grinning.

“An auto-sear is a key part in converting an AR-15 or CAR-15 to selective fire. It means that instead of having a two-position selector switch—SAFE and FIRE—you have a three-position switch—SAFE, SEMI, and AUTO. The D.I. A.S. can’t do this all by itself, though. You also need an M16 bolt carrier and a set of M16 lower-receiver internal parts. Now all of you already have early model hard-chromed M16 carriers in your ARs. That was part of the group standard set of upgrades. As you recall, I once insisted that we standardize with the chrome carriers, tritium front sights, and the five-slot closed cage M16A2 flash hiders.

“Just after I got the auto-sears, I also bought six sets of M16 lower-receiver parts at a gun show. At that time these parts were only about one hundred dollars for the full set. In recent years, BATFE agents have even been hassling people who they’ve caught with just a few of the lower-receiver parts. Those ‘F Troop’ guys don’t cut any slack.

“I never told anybody about the M16 lower-receiver parts sets or about the auto-sears.

“I didn’t want to get into any big arguments about legalities, or whether it’s right to obey a law that is contrary to the Constitution—you know, the Marbury versus Madison decision, and all that. Also, I didn’t want to put Mikey into one of those ‘police officer’s moral dilemma’ tizzies. Soooo, I just tucked them away in a wall cache, saving them for a rainy day. Needless to say, we got our rainy day. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a freakin’ Wagnerian thunder-storm out there, at least in the big cities.

“Soooo, here you go. I’ve got an auto-sear and a set of lower-receiver parts to give to each of you. I’ve already put one in my AR-15. After you install yours, that leaves two more sets. I’ll be saving one for when Terry Layton gets up here.

As for the sixth and last set—well, I guess it will make one fine barter item.

“Now, I’m also giving you some advice along with these marvels of innovative machining. Number one: don’t think that just because you have the potential to rock-’n-roll that you’re an instant Rambo. That’s a mistake that could be fatal. Remember that the best practical use of full auto is at very close range, versus multiple opponents. Even then, don’t use it like a garden hose. If you do, you’ll just be wasting precious ammo, and probably missing more than you are hitting. Stick with short, controlled bursts. Three to five rounds at the most.”

After a brief pause for his last statement to sink in, Dan continued, “Number two: Don’t even think about switching to the ‘group therapy’ mode unless your targets are at thirty yards or less. Beyond that range, well aimed semi-auto shots will be much more effective. One more thing: If you are in a large-scale firefight and start shooting full auto, guess who the bad guys are going to concentrate their fire on?” Dan tilted his head and raised an eyebrow for emphasis. Then he concluded, “Well, that’s basically it. I’ll get together with each of you individually on how to swap out the lower-receiver parts and install the auto-sears.”

After they had cracked a few jokes, Lisa, Mary, and T.K. walked out of the back bedroom, Ziploc bags in hand, wearing conspiratorial grins.

Aside from the term “group standard,” the other term used most often at group meetings was “case lot.” Before the Crunch, the group bought as many items as it could in bulk, and in many cases directly from their packagers and manufacturers. This included not just storage food but also many others, including ammunition, bandages, and nickel cadmium (“ni-cad”) rechargeable batteries.

In the long run, buying items in case lots instead of in “onesies and twosies” saved the group thousands of dollars. Gun and ammunition purchases were handled by Dan Fong, who had obtained a Federal Firearms License (FFL) as soon as he turned twenty-one. The FFL allowed Dan to order guns through the mail from distributors at dealer’s cost. This too saved the group a lot of money, as it eliminated the 30 to 60 percent markup normally charged by gun dealers with storefront operations.

Most large quantity purchases were coordinated by Terry Layton. Often, the Laytons’ garage looked more like a warehouse than a place to park their cars. At one point, nearly half the garage was stacked from floor to ceiling with cases of military MRE field rations. Terry wondered what the neighbors thought of all of these goings-on, but she was never questioned by them.

Like many survivalist groups, Todd’s group was faced with a seemingly insolvable quandary. Nearly all of the group members wanted to move to a safe haven, but there were virtually no prospects of finding work in their chosen professions in a remote, agrarian area like north central Idaho. Eventually, only the Grays and Kevin Lendel were able to make the move. In their cases, this was only possible because they were able to work at home with an out-of-state income. The rest of the group members kept their G.O.O.D. backpacks packed, and their jerry cans of gasoline full and frequently rotated. They also took advantage of the Grays’ offer to “pre-position” most of their survival supplies at the retreat. Todd and Mary had left most of the basement of their farmhouse largely empty for just this purpose.

During the course of the first two years after they bought their home near Bovill, the basement was gradually filled. Aside from the bulkier items such as five-gallon plastic buckets filled with grain, rice, beans, and powdered milk, most of the group members’ supplies were stored in G.I. surplus wall lockers that Mike Nelson found on sale at Ruvel’s Surplus on West Belmont Avenue in Chicago. Todd gave all of the group members the option of putting padlocks on their lockers if they preferred. By the turn of the century, all of the outer walls of the basement were lined with wall lockers. Much of the center of the basement was tiled with wooden pallets and heaped with the more bulky supplies such as five-gallon grain buckets, camouflage nets, and tan plastic five-gallon G.I. water cans. Each container was marked with an Avery label with the owner’s name, date of purchase, and the anticipated expiration.

Having to traverse nearly sixteen hundred miles to get to their retreat was a less than ideal situation for the members of the Group. Under the circumstances, however, it was the best that they could do. All that they could do was hope for the best, and watch the newspapers very carefully.