“Where are we going?” Manda asked.
“You’ll see,” Grant said. “We’re making today special.”
They walked up to Mark’s empty lot with all the parked cars. Grant got out the Acura keys and said, “We’re taking the ‘Tacura’ just like old times.”
Manda smiled. Riding in that car would take her back in time to just a few months ago, before everything was so crazy.
Grant unlocked the door to the Acura, just like he’d done a million times before. The sound of the door unlocking, the feel of the key. It took him back. He needed this. He needed some normalcy. He’d been valiantly fighting normalcy bias for so long and realized he needed a little “normal” himself. Feeling the 10/22, going shooting for fun with Manda, driving the Tacura. He and Manda had smiles on their faces. It felt like the good old days.
Grant opened the door to the Acura and put the 10/22 in the back seat, out of habit. He got in the driver’s seat which felt exactly like it did months ago when he came out to the cabin on that horrible night when he left Olympia.
The smell. The car smelled just like it used to. He was back in time. He just breathed in that smell. Manda was doing the same.
Grant put the key in the ignition and looked to see how much gas was in the tank; about a half tank. He turned the key and the Tacura started right up. Grant remembered that he needed to put some Stabil in the tank to prevent gasoline from breaking down over time. Any gas that wouldn’t be used for a few months needed to have Stabil added to it.
As the car started, the radio came on and it was playing music from the last radio station he had been listening to. The United States of America had collapsed, but there was still a classic rock station. Some things never change.
He turned off the radio and let the car idle a minute. He and Manda just sat in the car enjoying it, not saying a word, just listening to the sounds of the car and smelling its smells.
Grant put it in gear and slowly took off. It was weird to be driving the Tacura again. He almost felt like they could drive that car back to Olympia and everything would be normal again.
They drove the short distance to Jordan’s house and got out. Jordan’s parents were standing outside, happy to meet Grant and Manda. Jordan’s parents also recognized the “meet the potential future in-laws” nature of this visit.
Grant liked Jordan’s parents. Salt of the earth. Hardworking. Nice. They chatted for about ten minutes. Grant got to know them and vice versa. Grant was convinced the Sparks were “good people.”
Jordan and Manda were standing next to each other and couldn’t wait to be away from their parents. Finally the adults were done talking. It was time to go shooting. Manda moved the 10/22 from the back seat so she and Jordan could sit close together. Grant remembered those days when sitting together was a big deal.
They drove out to the Dayton place where people went shooting. Almost no one did this anymore because ammunition was quite literally money. Once in a while, people sighted in their rifles there, but usually with only a handful of shots.
They spent the next hour shooting and talking. It was very casual. Jordan was as casual as a boy can be when he’s with his girlfriend’s dad—and her dad is a killer, has a gun, is a judge, can kill people and get away with it, and everyone is in a secluded wooded area.
Grant watched how Jordan handled the rifle. Very professionally. He always kept the muzzle in a safe direction. He kept his finger off the trigger until he was on target. He put the safety on in between shooting sessions. Jordan brought his own hearing protection, too. He stood up straight and called Grant “sir.” Jordan loaded Manda’s magazines for her. A nice touch. Except that Grant used to load her magazines. Oh well. It had to happen sometime.
After a while, Grant asked Jordan, “So what are you doing at the Grange?” Jordan told him that he was doing miscellaneous jobs like moving heavy things, and cutting firewood.
“You want to try out for the gate guards?” Grant asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes, sir!” Jordan said. “Absolutely.”
“OK,” Grant said, “I think I can arrange that.” Jordan and Manda were beaming.
In that moment, Grant had an overwhelming sense that he had some things to tidy up before he went off to war. He felt like he had to make some arrangements now in case he didn’t come back. He knew what he needed to get in order before he left.
“There’s talk, Jordan, about a ‘rental team,’” Grant said. “You heard about that?”
“Yes, sir,” Jordan said. Good to see that he was honest. Grant halfway expected him to play dumb.
“The rental team is not for you, Jordan,” Grant said. He looked Jordan right in the eye and said, “Trust me. The rental team is not something you want to do.”
Jordan stared at Grant, not knowing what to say.
Grant continued, “Promise me, Jordan—and promise Manda, too, right here and now, that you will stay on the gate guards and not join anything else.”
Jordan was bewildered, but would have agreed to anything Grant said that day. “Yes, sir,” Jordan said.
“Promise us,” Grant said politely. “Please promise us.”
“Sure,” Jordan said. He looked Grant right in the eye and said, “I promise, Mr. Matson.”
Grant breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. Grant had now done what he could to make sure Manda had Jordan around in case Grant didn’t come back.
Jordan and Manda couldn’t figure out why this promise meant so much to Grant, but they trusted that he knew something they didn’t.
“In a few months,” Grant said to Jordan as he put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, “you’ll thank me for this. So will Manda.” And, Grant didn’t say, Manda’s mom will, too.
Jordan nodded. Grant could tell that all this seriousness was creeping out Jordan and Manda. It was time to have fun again, Grant thought.
“How fast can you put ten rounds into that tin can?” Grant asked Jordan as he handed him the 10/22.
In a few seconds they had the answer; pretty damned fast.
“Nice shootin’,” Grant said to Jordan. This was high praise, and Jordan knew it.
They went back to the Sparks’ house and Grant made sure to tell Jordan’s dad what a good job Jordan did. Grant pulled Jordan’s parents aside and asked them if it would be OK if Jordan became a gate guard. They were fine with it. They were happy, in fact, to have the youngest gate guard come from their family. They were impressed with how Dan ran the guards and looked after them.
“Hey, Manda, you remember how to drive, right?” Grant asked.
“Yeah,” Manda said. “Kinda.” She had taken driver’s education class and had her learner’s permit just when the Collapse hit.
“I can drive, sir,” Jordan said. He’d had his license for a while before the Collapse.
Grant realized what an opportunity he had. “OK, Jordan, could you drive me to the gate and then drive Manda home?” Trusting Jordan with his daughter and his car. That was a bonding experience.
“You bet,” Jordan said. He felt like a man today. Grant handed Jordan the keys. Grant could feel the symbolism in that.
Chapter 211
Immigrations Report
Jordan drove Grant and Manda to the gate. To give Jordan the full measure of respect, Grant volunteered to ride in the backseat and let Manda sit up front with Jordan where they felt like grownups.
Jordan wasn’t a perfect driver, but he did OK. It was the first time he’d driven in months. The guards didn’t recognize the Tacura and a few of them slowly shouldered their weapons, but didn’t aim at the car, as they drove up. Jordan felt like a million dollars driving a car, with his girlfriend at his side and Judge Matson sitting in the back seat.