Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Collapse

“I just don’t feel safe with all these guns around,” Nancy repeated, making it obvious that her argument was simply that she didn’t feel safe around guns. That was it. No plan for security, just her feelings.

Ron blew up. “I don’t give a damn about your phobias! I care about preventing vicious criminals from attacking my family and even yours. What the hell is the matter with you?” A few people clapped. Nancy knew that she was losing a political fight.

Her emotions were raw, too. After several days of watching those government-hating knuckle dragging Tea Party people shut everything down, she’d had enough. She was going to do something about it.

“Ron, we don’t need your macho testosterone,” she said with her teeth clenched. “We need a civilized way to help the police do their job. I propose that we discontinue the armed camp approach and form a local chapter of the Freedom Corps.”

No one said anything.

Nancy realized that they hadn’t yet heard of the Freedom Corps, since they weren’t government insiders like her. She felt so powerful.

“Freedom Corps,” she explained, “will be announced soon to the general public.” She loved the hint that only important people like her knew about this. “It’s a civilian law enforcement auxiliary. We will work with law enforcement to help them while they have other things to look after. You will hear about it on the news soon. Judy, you’re in law enforcement, what do you think about this?”

Nancy called on Judy Kilmer, an administrative law judge living on Grant’s cul-de-sac. Nancy had rehearsed this with Judy beforehand. Judy was a supporter.

Judy decided little administrative cases like unemployment benefit appeals, environmental permit fines, and paperwork violations for people subject to state licensing. “Law enforcement” was an absurd stretch. But, Nancy knew most people in the neighborhood worked for and, to varying degrees, revered government, so a “judge” would have lots of credibility.

“Well,” Judy said, “I know that it’s very important to have an orderly system for protection. Just shooting people and running away isn’t that. You need to have systems in place to help law enforcement do its job. It’s more about collecting and preserving evidence than just killing.”

Ron couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He yelled, “Collecting and preserving evidence after what?” He threw his hands up in the air. “After a pack of shitbags has killed or raped my family? A lot of good evidence will do then. What’s wrong with you?” Ron stormed out of the room.

Nancy gave Ron a “tsk, tsk” facial expression and rolled her eyes. “See, this is that kind of testosterone outburst that, coupled with guns, leads to violence,” she scolded.

The crowd of neighborhood people, almost all of whom were government workers who respected Nancy and Judy’s high positions, appeared to be thinking about this. It was likely that they understood the logic and even the emotion of Ron’s side, but wanted Nancy’s approach to work. “Normal” meant no longer seeing armed men at the entrance to the neighborhood. Everyone wanted normal back. The group was silent for a minute or so. Nancy could sense that she was winning.

“Let’s meet back here tomorrow night at the same time,” Nancy said, which was also part of her rehearsed plan. “That will give everyone a chance to think this over.”

And it would give Nancy time to visit each neighbor and lobby them. She wanted to see Lisa Taylor, in particular. She hated the Matsons, especially Grant who got her fired from the State Auditor’s Office. If Grant was a big baby and had run from the police, Nancy at least wanted to get in Lisa’s face and tell her what a horrible person her husband was.

Pow’s plan was blown. He had assumed he’d help Grant’s family pack and then take them back to his place, meet up with the Team, and go out to Grant’s cabin that night. He didn’t want to leave for the cabin without Grant’s family. But, he didn’t want to stay in the city. He wasn’t sure the guys would want to, either. He was trying to figure out what to do. He was the leader, but it was pretty close to a democracy. He couldn’t suggest they do something unpopular. But he didn’t want to leave Lisa and kids in danger.

Driving back to his place, Pow could see that things were getting worse. No normal people were out on the streets. There were packs of questionable people walking the streets. There were still no cops. There were still no sirens. At first, Pow thought this was a good sign. Then he realized it wasn’t; the cops were giving up, retreating to strongholds somewhere else, or were running out of the gas that was required to run their cars.

People were starting to realize they were on their own. Most were shocked, but a few, the criminals and the criminal wannabes, were starting to realize the opportunities that existed until law enforcement restored order. If they ever did.

Pow got back to his house earlier than the two hours he’d told the guys. They weren’t there yet. He pulled into his neighborhood. At the entrance was Clay Porter, a retired Army guy who lived a few streets away. He was in his truck under the streetlight. Pow slowed down and rolled down his window.

“Hey, Clay, what’s up?” He asked.

“Oh, hey, Pow,” Clay said, “glad to see you. Shit’s hitting the fan, that’s what’s up. We need to talk.”

Pow knew that he was about to be asked to help the neighborhood. “Sure. Let’s talk,” he said.

“We need a neighborhood patrol,” Clay said. “We need you and those guys over at your house all the time. I’ve got a dozen or so vets and some young guys. We need a guard rotation. We also need to get food and gas, which means going out on runs. They will get more and more dangerous as this continues. You in?”

“Sure,” Pow said without even thinking, just like he did with Mrs. Nguyen. Pow was a sheepdog. He helped people. Once his neighborhood was squared away, he and the Team could bug out to Grant’s. It would give the guys something to do while he waited to hear from Grant’s wife. There was a risk that by waiting to go to the cabin things would get so bad in the city that they couldn’t make it out, but that risk was mainly for unarmed and untrained people. Not the Team. That seemed somewhat cocky to Pow, but he felt this was the right decision. He really wanted to give Grant’s wife some time to decide that she wanted to go to the cabin, after all. He wanted to kill some time, even when time was precious.

“My guys are coming in about an hour,” Pow said. “We’ll come over to your place after that.” Pow didn’t want to have Clay over to his place with all the valuable guns and cases of ammo visible. Clay was a good guy, but Pow didn’t feel comfortable advertising his goods.

Pow went back to his house and looked over all this stuff. He was so reassured to have it. They had some serious firepower.

One by one, the guys were rolling in. Pow knew they would want to get out to the cabin right away. This neighborhood patrol with Clay was delaying that. He told each one the new plan as they arrived, instead of telling the whole group. He could convince one guy at a time easier than convincing the whole group. In the end, all of them were OK with spending a couple days patrolling Pow’s neighborhood. It would be fun; this is what the Team lived for.

They went over to Clay’s with concealed pistols and met the other men in the neighborhood. They were a pretty solid bunch of guys. Not nearly as well armed as the Team, but they had plenty of decent hunting weapons and good pistols. Two guys even said they had ARs. Many of the neighborhood guys had good military experience, but they hadn’t been to a shooting range almost every other weekend like the Team had. Regardless, they were a very good group, well armed and decently trained.