Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Stronghold

Rich said, “Hey, my wife is a bookkeeper. She and Drew could keep track of who’s contributing and what they’re providing. I like the idea of rewarding good behavior.”

“If supplies get tight,” Grant said, knowing that they would, “we can look at who’s not carrying their weight and decide what to do. Of course, we will take care of the old, disabled, and those who can’t take care of themselves. But able-bodied freeloaders will be a problem. Those contributing will be pissed at them, but I’m not sure how we can cut people off of security services or medical care. That’s a community-wide thing. Maybe there will be other things we can offer to people and withhold from non-contributors.” It sounded cruel, but this was a survival situation.

Rich thought some more. “You know, I bet a lot of this works itself out. I know most of the people out here. They will share with neighbors and work to help each other, for the most part. They’ve had to do this over the past few years with the economy.”

Rich paused and looked at Grant. “You know, most people are still pretty decent. A few aren’t. We let the majority work together on their own, and we deal with the minority. Be a decent human being and you won’t have any trouble from us.”

Grant laughed, “That could be our motto.”

Rich laughed. He realized they had polished off about half that bottle of whiskey. He was feeling it.

“I think I should head home,” he said, jingling his keys. “We need to have a law against drunk driving. We’ll put it into effect tomorrow .” They laughed.

“Nah, I’m kidding,” Rich said. “I have a cot here. I’m fine. A couple hours of napping and I’ll be fine. My wife is used to me being here all night sometimes. How are you getting home? Mark left a couple of hours ago. I can call my wife.”

“Don’t waste the gas,” Grant said. “I’ll walk. It’s only about two miles. I need to stay in shape. And it’s a beautiful night, the stars are out, I have my walking companion,” Grant said pointing to his AR leaning against the wall nearby, “and I have a buzz. Perfect walking conditions.”

Grant and Rich shook hands. This was a great partnership. They were exactly the right people to be leading this community. They had a plan.

Grant left and started walking…home. “Home.” That’s right. Not to the “cabin,” but to “home.” Wow. He let that sink in.

The walk home was one of the best of Grant’s life. He thought about how all the “coincidences” were coming together and how they might actually make it out there at Pierce Point. He thought about how he just knew that he needed to talk to Rich that night, how he brought the whiskey that seemed to lubricate this important conversation, and how they were on the same page. He kept thinking about the mini republic at Pierce Point.

A mini republic. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off. He remembered that famous line from Ben Franklin. When he was leaving the 1787 Constitutional Convention, a woman asked him what they had created. “A republic. If you can keep it,” he said. Human beings seemed to love tyranny for some reason. No, it would be more accurate to say that they feared freedom and settled for tyranny, especially soft tyranny where they were taken care of. It would be hard to make a republic work, even a small one.

Grant thought about this Pierce Point mini republic and his life. He had spent his adult years seeing the corruption and injustice and learning how not to run a society. Now they had a chance to start all over again and do it the right way. A mini republic.

This is just a dress rehearsal out here. For something bigger.

Grant was in such a good mood walking back from the Grange. Maybe this Collapse thing wasn’t so bad after all. They would get to rebuild things better—way better—than they were before. Grant’s family had supplies and they were in a good place. This new world was kind of fun.

It was a little after midnight when he came up on the guard shack on Over Road. He didn’t want to get shot by mistake, so he made loud walking sounds as he rounded the corner and headed down Over Road. He said loudly, “Grant here” and put up his hands. He heard John say, “Got you.” John could see Grant’s outline in the big light at the end of the road. He didn’t point his 30-30 at Grant, but had a round in the chamber and kept it at the ready.

As Grant got a few feet from him, John said, “Bad news, Grant. Mrs. Roth died a few hours ago. Mary Anne has been crying nonstop.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Grant said. “Lisa said this would be coming soon, but it’s always a shock when it does.” He looked and the light was on in John and Mary Anne’s house.

“John, you go be with her. I’ve got guard duty,” Grant said.

“Thanks.” John turned and left. As he was going to his house, Chip was coming from it and toward the guard shack.

Chip came up to Grant and said, “Have you heard about Mrs. Roth?”

“Yeah. Bummer,” Grant said.

“I thought I’d do some guard duty,” Chip said. “To be honest, I don’t like being in a house with a crying woman. Reminds me of my first marriage.”

That was interesting. Grant didn’t know that Chip had been married before, or even a couple of times.

He realized that he and Chip hadn’t really had time to talk much in the past few days. They’d been so busy.

Grant was hungry. He’d been up all night and had been walking. He didn’t want to wake anyone up, though.

“Dude, I’m starving. It’ll be a long time before breakfast,” Grant said.

Chip fished around the guard shack and pulled out two brown plastic packages.

“Beef ravioli or chicken with salsa?” he asked with a grin. MREs. Chip must have stashed some of his out here.

“Hmmm…beef ravioli,” Grant said. “Not sure a midnight snack is the best use of food that can store for fifteen years, but I’m pretty damned hungry.”

Chip said, “Chicken with salsa for me, then.”

They opened their MREs. Grant’s had beef jerky, fruit, crackers, jalapeno cheese spread, and, the prize of prizes, a fudge brownie. Chip had Mexican rice, which was pretty good, crackers, jalapeño cheese spread, short bread, and prize of prizes, Skittles.

“Dang, an MRE kicks ass, especially when you’re hungry,” Chip said. He was right. That meal was fantastic. Grant’s stomach was growling as he ate.

“So, Chip, you have a family out here now, don’t you?” Grant asked.

“Yep,” Chip said with a smile. “Yep, I do.”

“Hey, remember when I first came into Capitol City Guns? Did you ever think we’d be doing this?” Grant asked.

“Not at all. Not at all,” Chip said and then changed the subject. “Hey, what are we going to do with those goodies in the basement?”

Grant had almost forgotten about the ARs and ammo that Chip brought from the gun store before the looting started back in Olympia.

“I dunno,” Grant said, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll find a use for them.” He had more than a sneaking suspicion. He knew exactly how they’d use them but the time wasn’t right to spring that on Chip. The guns were, after all, Chip’s, and they were worth their weight in gold right now.

“Who knows,” Chip said casually, “Perhaps a friend will show up and have a use for them.” Chip was looking off in the distance, down Over Road.

Grant knew what Chip meant and who the friend was, but he didn’t want to blurt it out. Subtlety was required in situations like these. One doesn’t openly talk about these things, even with people they trust. Blabbers get people killed. Besides, Grant didn’t want to be wrong and have Chip laugh at him. Or be offended that Grant had a plan for Chip’s valuable goods that Chip didn’t agree with.