Liberators Page 8
“Do you think that we can really make it all the way to Idaho?” Megan asked.
“No, I don’t. At one time, Ken even got me on a three-way Skype call with this Todd guy. I was rather incredulous, his screen name was ‘End of Beans,’ and he didn’t use the camera. Ken later told me that it was a play on the phrase ‘The end of the world as we know it’ except that Todd was an accountant so I guess he managed to merge all that weirdness into one tidy screen name.
“Todd wanted me to sign up for the mutual assistance group package and was even willing to have Terry send me a buying list of where to start based solely on Ken’s recommendation and that he knew that I was a cop. I politely thanked him and said that I had a lot of years of service in and that I was going to stick it out here in Maryland at least until I retired. With all of the redundancy built into the government, we should fare better than everyone. That was my thinking then, but today is a different day.”
“The suspense is killing me here. Where are we going?”
Joshua took a long drink from his stainless steel REI bottle, offered some to Megan, and said, “Dustin invited me to a picnic.”
“You quit your job to attend a picnic?”
“Dustin, who is of the same mind as Ken, called me last night and wanted to catch up since the last time we talked a month or two ago. He asked me about you.”
“Moi?”
“I told him that I was falling in love with you. He said that if the situation ever worsened—how does he put it?—‘When the Schumer hits the fan,’ that I should proceed directly to his house for the picnic, and that I should bring you with me as my wife. The implied task is to ‘Get here, Wingnut!’” Joshua smiled as he retold the story. “He sometimes adds ‘Wingnut’ to the end of the sentence to tease me about not joining another branch of the military.
“After Ken’s text messages and Dustin’s call last night, I packed that footlocker you see in the backseat, just in case. All I have at my apartment is my music stuff, a crossbow, a used couch, some thrift store kitchen stuff, and my laptop. I’m not a materialistic person, except for my Jeep. I just can’t live without you, Megan; I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Well, whisking me away out of the belly of the beast was a good start.”
“So, here’s the turnoff to cross the Potomac—whoa, that’s a lot of flashing strobe lights up there! I wonder what that’s all about.” Joshua reflexively reached for his holstered pistol, but he remembered that he had turned in his issued pistol and that his personal one was in the footlocker behind them.
Joshua was still wearing his NSA police uniform and he silently prayed that he would have favor with this checkpoint. Families with overloaded cars trying to get somewhere were unpacking all of their belongings on the side of the road for police dogs to sniff and rubber-gloved personnel from the Department of Homeland Security “Field Operations” to go through.
“Megan, go ahead and get your ID out. And keep that AR-7 wrapped up. The laws about even having a gun in your car in Maryland are not Second Amendment friendly.”
After half an hour, Joshua inched up to the Maryland state trooper and the Frederick County policemen who were conducting the checkpoint.
The young trooper said to Joshua, “Identification, please. Where are you going?”
Joshua did all of the talking. “I am taking my fiancée here back home to West Virginia.”
“You’re not from West Virginia, Officer Kim?”
“No, sir, I live in Howard County, but I’d like to think I could live out this way one day.”
Reciting as if he’d said it many times before, the trooper said, “Any of the following are declared contraband as of 2:00 P.M. EST by order of Governor O’Malley: magazines of any caliber that can hold eleven or more rounds; any physical gold, silver, or platinum not in worn jewelry form; any cash in excess of fifty-five hundred dollars, or durable goods of that same amount. Do you have any of those items?”
“No.”
“Just that footlocker with you is all?”
“Roger that.”
“Here are your IDs, have a good night.”
The Maryland state trooper thought it odd that Joshua would be this far from NSA, but ultimately it was Megan’s West Virginia driver’s license that got them through the checkpoint. Joshua didn’t ask what the situation was, and the trooper didn’t tell him anything except that it was “Just a precaution, on orders from the governor’s office.”
“Well, it appears that you successfully just emigrated out of the People’s Republic of Maryland, Officer Kim.”
“Better a year early than a day late.” Joshua sighed.
They arrived at Megan’s house an hour later, just before dinner.
11
YOU CAN’T GET THERE FROM HERE
Do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune, but all the dead are dead alike.
—The Horse Hwin, in The Horse and His Boy by C. S. Lewis
LaCroix Homestead, Kearneysville, West Virginia—October, the First Year
None of the roads they traversed from the Maryland checkpoint to Megan’s house were unfamiliar, but the collective sense of urgency and uncertainty was very high between them. They listened to the radio and said little, except for what the immediate actions would be when they arrived at the homestead. Joshua pulled in the driveway and Megan hopped out of the Jeep. After he triple-checked his mirrors to make sure that there were no kids behind him, Joshua instinctively backed up the Jeep toward the house. He opened all the doors and the hood (Malorie would likely want to inspect the Jeep from headlight to taillight), grabbed his footlocker, and headed into the house.
Malorie and Megan had already made most of the arrangements for a quick exodus in the weeks before. Since their original plan was to head to Maine, they intended to pack the Honda Accord’s trunk very lightly. That afternoon, Megan had called Malorie before leaving her office to say, “Malorie, il est temps. Je serai à la maison bientôt. Je t’aime.”
After she had hung up the phone with Megan, Malorie acted immediately and called the nearest neighbor with a homestead up the road. She offered them all of the livestock to raise or slaughter as they wished, including the fifteen laying hens they had. Malorie also said that whatever was still in the house after twenty-four hours was theirs to take. Malorie had the boys’ items packed and both of their bug-out bags ready by the door.
When Megan walked in she saw the boys prone on the floor zooming their cars back and forth in what looked to be the most intense race in the history of mankind’s pursuit of speed. She got down on her hands and knees to kiss them, while they stayed fixated on their race. With all of the pending turmoil, it was nice to know that they still thought that everything was normal. Malorie was in the kitchen making dinner when she looked up and caught her sister’s eyes. They didn’t need to say anything, for they were in lockstep already. They exchanged a quick hug and continued working.
Joshua came through the front door, set down the footlocker, and joined the race with the boys for a few minutes before helping Malorie get dinner on the table. Dinner was solemn. Not a whole lot was said in front of the boys about what would be happening in the next few hours. Megan bathed the boys while Joshua did the dishes and helped clean up from dinner.
Malorie had gone into the basement to dig out one of Eric’s old large-framed backpacks. “I assume that is for me?” Joshua asked as he moved from the kitchen to the dining room, where Malorie was laying out the contents of her bug-out bag.
“Yes, it is. I saw that you didn’t have a bug-out bag with you, so I’m going to lay mine out here on the table. You can make yours match or customize it as you see fit, cafeteria style. We should have extras of all of these items in one of those tubs over there—help yourself. What do you have for weapons?”
“I have a Glock 19 in my footlocker with five magazines and a thousand rounds of ball ammunition. I also brought my Remington 870 with a hund
red double-ought buck shells and my scoped .270 for long-range work with about three hundred rounds for it. I knew that we wouldn’t be able to take it all, so I brought what I knew would be necessary.”
“I think that we’ll be fine if we split the load between us.” Malorie looked solemn and then added, “I’m guessing that we won’t be able to drive the entire way there for whatever reason, so dismounting becomes easier if you pack for that contingency.”
Joshua answered, “I agree; wow, that is quite a spread there. It sure does look like you have fine-tuned that load quite a bit.” Without knowing it, Joshua was in for an education in bug-out bags.
Malorie continued, “This is my ten-by-eight tarp in dark earth tones, and Megan also has one just like it. We can put zip ties around the edges in the grommet holes to make a large sleeping bag. Which brings me to this little Snugpak Jungle Bag—small, light, perfect for what we would need.
“Nature is a cruel and unforgiving teacher, and chance favors the prepared gal. You only have to be caught once in the woods in Maine, cold and wet after dark, to realize how insignificant you are in the forest. We have two little boys that depend on us for everything; we’re not taking any chances. Go ahead and grab an extra few boxes of .22 long-rifle ammo if you believe that you can manage. We can always trade it or use it for my sister’s AR-7.”
Malorie heard the boys being wrangled into pajamas upstairs and she smiled as she continued, “We each have one of the McNett Outgo microfiber towels. They are big enough to dry an adult and a child each, and they also come with this mesh pouch that comes in handy to put our toiletries in. Over here I have a small bunch of zip ties held together with this bread bag tie, grab whatever size is clever. Here is a military lensatic compass, indispensable, in my opinion. I’m not sure if we have an extra one of these, though.”
Joshua replied, “No problem, I actually have my old one from my Air Force days in my footlocker over there.”
“Great, redundancy is key. Next I have about ten one-gallon Ziploc bags and fifteen or so quart-size bags. I find that they are helpful for organizing little things at the end. Megan swears by these Maglite LED XL-50 flashlights, so be sure to grab one for yourself. Each of us also has a small strip of kitchen sponge that we’ve bleached out and let dry in the sun. It’s useful for collecting rain water or can even be lowered on a string to a water source that is out of reach, like a well casing, if need be. We each have a multitool, and I see that you have one there on your belt. Grab a boonie hat for yourself over in that bin; you don’t want to be sunburnt out there.
“Grab one stainless steel spoon for yourself and a canteen cup if you want one. Do you have any junk silver—you know, the pre-’65 stuff?”
“Actually I do. I have a roll of quarters and a roll of dimes. Plus fifteen Maple Leafs concealed in a belt, and ten of the one-tenth-ounce gold American Eagle coins also concealed the same way.”
“Cool, you’re hired. Okay, here is where Megan and I divide the one-of items. I carry the collapsible fishing pole and the Go Berkey water filter. Since it’s only a one-quart capacity, please grab the only other one we have over there to take with us in your pack. At a halt we’ll be able to process twice the amount of water. Megan carries the extra ammo and extra food. We have to assume that the boys cannot carry much of anything except for perhaps a quart of water.”
Joshua wanted to key in on a detail here and asked, “Splitting the load should be easier with the three of us. You mentioned ammo. What calibers do you have?”
“We’ve standardized our calibers between us, knowing that something like this could happen one day. So we both have Smith & Wesson .357s, which can shoot a variety of rounds, like .38 S&W and .38 Special, as you may know. I also managed to get an M1 Carbine for each of us. Megan has her AR-7 and I have a twelve-gauge Mossberg 500. We bought all of those guns without paperwork through private sales, so in some instances beggars can’t be choosers. These should be adequate for what we would need them for, though.”
A chorus of “Auntie Malorie” broke out from the top of the stairs, and Joshua smiled and said, “Sounds like you’re needed for tucking-in detail.”
Joshua stood there alone next to the dining room table. As he packed things in his developing bug-out bag, he thought of what it must be like to live in a house where you have parents who care for you so much and where you’re tucked in every night as an individual. All of this was foreign to him, but he imagined that he could get used to it.
Malorie and Megan came down the stairs together, and Malorie asked, “We haven’t discussed it, but I assume that we’re taking the Jeep and not the Accord?”
“Joshua, what are your thoughts?” Megan said.
“Actually, I was going to suggest it. The Jeep has more ground clearance, and we don’t know what we’ll encounter between here and Kentucky.”
“So we’re headed to Kentucky? Is Maine out of the question, then?”
Megan filled Malorie in on their earlier discussion about the impossibility of making it through all of the chaos in the northeastern cities, each one a potential if not certain death trap. “You weren’t there, Malorie, but Joshua and I barely made it out of Maryland today; we wouldn’t have without his uniform and my West Virginia driver’s license.”
“The world has changed,” Joshua added. “I got a text on the drive here from my buddy Ken Layton in Chicago, who said that he and his wife, Terry, are packing up their Mustang and Bronco tonight to leave for Idaho at first opportunity—but he sorely wished that he would have left yesterday! They’re without power and they can hear gunfire throughout the city in just about any direction.”
“Okay, Kentucky it is. Who do we know there?” Mal asked.
“We’ve been invited to a picnic, Mal. And not to bury the lead here, but Joshua and I are engaged.”
“Wait, you’re getting married now, too?” Malorie was quick on the uptake, but this was a lot for her to process all at once.
Joshua decided to put a marker of his own down on the table. “Nothing matters more to me than you and those boys. I am prepared to give my life so that they have a chance to survive. I never had a family, but they do, and it’s worth throwing ourselves headlong in that direction to sustain their existence rather than stay here and gamble ours away.”
Up until then, no one had heard from Joshua regarding his motives; it wasn’t the kind of thing most people asked about, but everyone tried their best to detect. It was Megan who spoke next. “Sounds like we’re all of one accord with our purpose.”
Joshua wanted to lighten the moment with levity and said, “Accord? I thought we were taking the Jeep?” They all laughed out loud as the stress of the situation unwound in a split second. “Malorie, I left the hood up, thinking that you’d want to inspect our means of transportation.”
“I’ll get started right now. Can I bring it into the shop, where there’s light to work?”
“By all means, sister-in-law, mi Jeep es su Jeep. The keys are in the ignition.” Joshua smiled and Malorie, who had never forgiven Eric, smiled back. Malorie had been repacking her bug-out bag while they were talking, and dropped it off by the door as she left.
Megan looked at Joshua and said, “Merci beaucoup.” Joshua didn’t say anything. He just embraced her for a long hug followed by a long kiss. He had longed to kiss her for months now, and since they were going to be married eventually, he would have gotten the chance. But today was the day for realizing eventualities.
12
CONVEYANCE
In the day of prosperity we have many refuges to resort to; in the day of adversity only one.
—Horatius Bonar
LaCroix Homestead, Kearneysville, West Virginia—October, the First Year
After the kiss, Joshua looked deep into Megan’s eyes and knew that he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing, and most important—she was the one he was supposed to be with. Rome was indeed burning, but God’s provision had given him the o
ut, wisdom gave them the unction, and courage gave them the impetus to stay ahead of the Golden Horde. If Joshua were to try to explain leaving his job to a coworker or government career counselor, it would not have made sense, but God’s workings are different and seldom coincide with positive law, corrupt authority, or lifetime guarantees for Federal Reserve notes.
Malorie’s head appeared out from under the Jeep on the creeper. “This thing is dry and rock solid. No leaks, all of the bushings are tight.”
Since you decided to go with one of the world’s most ubiquitous drive trains, I happen to have a few new parts over there in those bins. I know that I have at least one serpentine belt and some filters as well. We’ll see what we have room for at the end and pack accordingly.
“Speaking of, if you’re ready we can pack up now and then try to get some sleep before we leave in the morning.”
Joshua said, “I’ll grab the fuel cans from around back.”
With the ladies having most of their items prioritized and packed ahead of time, the work went quickly. The fuel and water were separated by a small tub of tools that Malorie packed. After a short discussion they decided that Joshua would drive and switch off with Malorie, who would be in the passenger seat. Megan would be in the backseat with the boys; the drivers could change out as needed. In total the distance was 550 miles, and no one expected it to be an easy trip. Since this was all a very new experience and no SOP had been established, they decided that all weapons would be loaded and rounds in the chamber with the safety on.
Malorie took a shower and went to bed; Megan sorted through some last-minute kids’ items, very grateful that her sister had diligently scanned all of the baby pictures and made double backups of them on password-protected USB sticks for posterity. Joshua cleaned and lubricated all of the weapons and set them by the door, before taking a shower and retiring to the couch. He and Megan would be married eventually, but he insisted on maintaining a prudent separation until it was right to sleep in the same bed together.