Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (4 page)

John concluded that placing sandbags in front of the alcove window was the first order of business for the day, and that it would be a perfect job for Adam and his companions to support. The three young men worked well together, and they seemed to trust Adam as their unofficial leader. That relationship helped John because it allowed him to communicate all suitable tasks directly through Adam, and then Adam would enlist their help to accomplish the mission. John knew that he could count on Adam to get the job done, which was comforting, but the sandbag mission would require adult supervision. He wondered how the other boys would take to Pete when it involved hard work, because Pete didn’t mess around when it came to work. Like any teen, Adam was prone to slacking, but he could be a hard worker. John knew his son would set the example for the other boys.

In retrospect, John realized that he began to treat Adam differently, with more trust and responsibility, when he learned that Eli was Adam’s future son. It still amazed John to think he was being spiritually guided by his unborn grandson, but he couldn’t spend too much time considering it without feeling a little thin. So much had happened since his awakening that he was beginning to wonder who he really was.

John found that the best way to cope with his feeling ‘thin’ was to focus on temporal issues, like how to build a good sandbag bunker in the alcove, or what to take when they left for the mountains. Wondering about the ‘who’ and ‘why’ of spirit communications was the least of his worries since the disaster happened. Leaving the house was a much bigger distraction, and it actually hurt his head to think about it. There was no way they could take everything with them, not without a large truck or several trailers. They would have to immediately start planning for their trip. With so much to do, and so little time to get it done, he wondered when they’d be able to leave.

Marissa was the first to rise. She went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast as soon as Paul settled into bed. As she passed through the blanket curtain that separated the entryway from their personal space in the living room, she smiled up at John and waved. John waved in reply and turned back to the window.

It was still dark. The blue band of illumination that served as a prelude to morning was still an hour or more away. He would record the break of dawn with an entry of EMNT, followed by the time. Early Morning Nautical Twilight was a military term for the pale blue light that existed prior to sunrise, and it was known as the preferred time to launch raids. John wasn’t worried about being raided, at least not yet, but he preferred to be wide awake before EMNT for that reason alone. At the moment, his log entry was little more a point of reference for the future.

As dark as it was, the hazy moon managed to provide just enough light for John to see two dogs sniff the ground around his mailbox. One of the dogs, a medium-sized one, lifted his leg and marked the post with a quick squirt. The smaller dog sniffed the spot, and then turned his attention to the larger dog’s butt. John wondered if the larger dog was the one he saw the other day, while he was walking to
Corbin’s house. It had a familiar build, but it was hard to tell in the low light, and from the window. The two dogs trotted off, and John recorded their departure in the log.

Stray dogs would be a problem in the days and weeks to come, so recording their visit was important for everyone. He also hoped the entry would incline the others to add more to the log book. There was only three entries the entire night up to his shift, and he wanted more information. Since the onset of the disaster, no threat could, or should be underestimated.

John didn’t own a dog; the Army made it difficult for him to do so, and the idea fell out of favor over the years. The kids managed to raise the subject of dog ownership at least once a month, but John and Jenna shunned the idea, saying it was like having another family member to care for, but one that needed to be fed and picked up after at all times. Still, he wanted his kids to have a dog like he did when he was young, and wondered if it was too late to even consider getting one. Dogs made for excellent early warning devices and protection, at least good dogs did anyway. Perhaps he could convince Jenna of their usefulness now that personal protection was a newly appreciated desire.

When the two dogs passed out of sight, John made another entry in the logbook, and he was sure to note their direction of travel. He suspected the pair was owned by someone in the neighborhood, because it was rare to see stray dogs and cats in the neighborhood due to local coyotes, but anything was possible now. John wondered if the dogs simply got loose, or if they were abandoned, because both were common problems with pets during disasters.

For John, the problem with loose dogs was that they tended to form into packs, and packs of hungry dogs, especially those that had no fear of humans, could easily attack and kill a grown man. The dog John met while walking to Corbin’s was friendly, but that would change with every passing day, when food became harder to find. John counted the days when he last saw the lone dog in the ash covered
street of his neighborhood. It was only three days ago, but it seemed like a much longer period of time.

John’s mind turned to his job, of sitting quietly in his downtown Fort Worth office typing away at his computer. It was strange to think about what he would be doing right then if the eruption hadn’t occurred. He figured he’d be driving to work. Probably making his way through frustrating commuter traffic, mentally preparing himself to respond to the needs of investors, worrying about their money, and longing for the weekend. It still amazed him how everything had changed so quickly, but he had been mentally and physically ready for it. Few people were as ready as John was, but he knew that could change in a moment now that the disaster was upon them. They were all alike, John just had more food and water than most.

A brief pang of guilt touched his heart. He wanted to tell more people about the coming disaster, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He pushed his feelings of guilt and remorse away. His had been a personal revelation, a personal dream, one meant for him, and him alone.
No
, thought John,
not just him, his friends and family too
. He put the word out, but he could only guess at how far that word had traveled. He hoped it touched Mark, but he didn’t hear from him. He even hoped it touched Jenna’s brother, but again, he didn’t know.

One of the happiest days of his life was seeing Pete sitting in his truck in front of his house. John marveled at such happiness, how a thought of improved survival could have such an impact on him. Survival clearly refocused his life, as it did with everyone, but John felt his was different somehow. His attitude about survival was more intense, more focused and important than anyone else’s. It wasn’t about pride, or for the sake of preparedness, but for some other intangible purpose. A purpose he had yet to completely identify with.

John heard movement on the stairs and he turned to look. Pete nodded, and without a word, he approached and climbed the ladder to the alcove. With a groan, he sat on folding chair next to John, and after rearranging the cushion, he asked John if he could have a look out the
window. John moved aside and rested his head against the wall while Pete studied the area for several minutes. He dropped the flap and asked, “When’s sunrise?”

“Around 07:30,” answered John. He raised the flap to look. The sky was just beginning to turn a deep bluish-purple color. A few of the brightest stars endured the challenge, but not for long. It was now light enough to see without the help of his night-vision scope. “The sun will set around 19:00,” added John, “so that gives us about twelve hours of daylight. Why? What are you thinking about?”

“I’m just thinking about all the work we have to do on this house, and at the entrance to the neighborhood. Twelve hours isn’t going to be enough,” replied Pete.

“My sentiments exactly,” said John, “but can you be more specific about what you think we need to do?”

Pete leaned back in the chair and said, “If we’re going to stay here for any length of time, we should do a few things around your property as well.” John nodded and Pete continued. “First off, your plywood covered windows are a dead giveaway that you’re different from everyone else. You stand out, so you might as well take the gloves off and put up additional . . . more direct security measures.”

“Like what?” asked John. He had a few ideas of his own, but he really wanted to hear what Pete had to say. Pete always stopped to visit whenever he and Bonnie passed through the area, so he knew John’s property, and his neighborhood, very well. But it was Pete’s military experience with physical security that was highly respected by John. Given the change, that skill was invaluable.

Mark, John and Pete’s friend and longtime hunting partner, also knew the property because they did most of their game processing out back in John’s shop, but Mark wasn’t a Soldier. A good shooter, yes, but not a military man. However, John did respect Mark’s down-to-earth, no nonsense survival skills.
He would have been another welcome addition to the company
, thought John, as he listened to Pete talk
about what to do around the property. He wished Mark was with them, but he knew San Antonio was close to five-hundred miles away. Pete’s home in Belton was about Mark’s half-way point, so John doubted he would ever see his friend again. Then again, he didn’t think he would see Pete either.

Pete’s Military Police background centered on physical security before his retirement, so he had a great deal of practical experience from Iraq and Afghanistan to draw upon, but he knew so much about physical security that he often thought everyone around him was dull for not seeing and taking obvious steps to protect themselves from threats. He was doing it again, but John was so happy he was here that it didn’t annoy him in the least. Despite their many differences, they were always aligned. In all ways but motherhood, Pete was John’s brother. He trusted Pete with his life.

Pete continued to talk as he looked through the window flap. “For one, I would fortify the alcove window. And it wouldn’t take much to shoot through the walls up here, and here,” said Pete, as he pointed around the alcove. “You can expect your upper floor windows to be targets for anything from rocks and bullets, to Molotov cocktails. Do you have something we can use to cover them without limiting visibility?” asked Pete.

“Chicken wire,” said John.

“That will work for the rocks and bottles,” said Pete.

“I have two rolls in the shop,” said John.

Pete nodded and said, “Good. We also need to do something to keep vehicles from driving across the front yard. We’ll have to do something to slow them down or stop them . . . the same with people. We should include early warning devices.”

“How can we stop a car?”

“Easy,” said Pete, “A berm or ditch . . . or both.”

“Sounds like a lot of digging,” said John.

“Not as much as you might think. It doesn’t take a very deep ditch, or a very high berm to stop a car,” replied Pete.

“Can’t we just drop the trees?”

“You can, but that will provide cover for any attacker,” said Pete. “A ditch is better.”

“Wait a minute, are you talking about defending from a threat in, or out of the neighborhood?” asked John.

“Both.”

“Do you think the neighborhood is dangerous for us?” asked John.

“Everywhere is dangerous for us now. I know you know that. Which is why I was surprised to see you didn’t already have some kind of neighborhood defense force organized,” said Pete.

“I haven’t had the time. But the real reason is that I don’t think this neighborhood is interested in defending itself,” said John.

“Have you had a neighborhood meeting?”

“Not since the disaster,” said John, “and I’m really not interested in having one either. I’ve met with the people who organize this neighborhood. They weren’t interested in hearing about preparedness, so I really have no interest in reengaging them.”

“Sounds like you had your feelings hurt,” replied Pete.

John snorted and said, “Yeah, well, maybe. But you know what, it’s really hard for me to feel sorry for these people. I tried to convince them to prepare, and they treated me like I was some kind of paranoid fool. The HOA president even went so far as to call me one,” replied John with a sigh.

“The HOA president called you a paranoid fool?” asked Pete, with raised eyebrows.

“Well, not a fool, but he made it clear he wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say about preparedness. He did call me a nut-job survivalist. Made it sound like a sickness, too. That was the last meeting I attended.”

“When was that?” asked Pete.

“Oh . . . about a year ago,” said John.

“I was one of those people, John. I wish I listened to you earlier,” said Pete, “but even a little help is better than none at all. Besides,
you couldn’t prepare this neighborhood by yourself, just like you can’t defend it by yourself.”

John shrugged and said, “I don’t plan to prepare it or defend it by myself. I . . ,” paused John. He wanted to say he no longer wanted to stay, but he felt it wasn’t the right time. He needed to know where they were going in Colorado before he worked anyone up about their leaving. Instead, he said, “I can’t tell you how much you being here has . . . will . . . make a difference for our survival.”