Grant looked at the inventory list. The date of the list caught his eye, which was almost two years ago, and remembered how crazy it seemed to most people back then to buy up and store food. There was lots of food in the stores. Why go to all this trouble? This is why Grant did this in secret. So he wouldn’t get “caught” by Lisa and have to answer these questions. So his wife wouldn’t think he was crazy.
But she enjoyed oatmeal for breakfast now. Many others didn’t have any breakfast. Grant had long ago gotten over the “I told you so” feeling. He didn’t look at all the food in that shed as an “I told you so.” He looked at it as a “Thank God I can take care of my family.”
Besides, there was no upside to saying “I told you so.” Grant knew how Lisa worked: She couldn’t admit being wrong. Once she realized she was wrong, she would just be nice to Grant and act like she had never been wrong.
That’s what she was doing now. In fact, she was adapting incredibly well—better than he thought—to her new life as a doctor living out in the sticks and getting paid in cans of tuna. Grant had underestimated her. He was glad to have been wrong.
Grant looked at the date again. He swelled up with pride that he had done all this prepping. “Pride” maybe wasn’t the best word. “Thankful” and “at peace” was more like it. He might pat himself on the back for something wise he did that was less important. If, for example, he would have bought a snow shovel in the summer and it snowed a lot that winter and the stores were out of snow shovels. That was pat-on-the-back material. But having food for his family when few others could count on feeding their kids—that was way too important for a pat on the back. That was just pure thankfulness and peace.\Grant looked at the inventory list. He saw all the can openers from the Dollar Store. He got about a dozen and had given most of them away. People were so thankful to have a can opener. Many didn’t have them because they always ate drive-through or microwave food. For a one-dollar can opener, Grant had made some lifelong friends who would now literally die for him. Not a bad deal. All it took was the self-confidence to buy a bunch of can openers when times were good and not worry that the cashier thought you were crazy. Once you get over that, saving your family’s life gets much easier. Not a bad deal at all.
Grant looked at his watch. He had slowly gotten used to wearing one. In peacetime, he never did. He was around a clock all the time. His cell phone, his car clock, his computer screen. Not anymore. And now that he was doing things that sometimes involved armed men being at the same place at the precisely the same time to counter other armed men, being on time was critical.
Half an hour had gone by. Grant had a stop to make at the Grange so it was time to leave and then go get Nick and take him to the farm. He wasn’t looking forward to tearing Nick away from Rita. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all. Grant got back in the Tacura and took off. John waved him by.
On the way to the Grange, Grant noticed that there were no other cars. Lots and lots of bikes, though. Most people, especially those with kids, had bikes but rarely used them in peacetime. That had changed. Now it was the primary mode of transportation in Pierce Point. And, Grant suspected, elsewhere in America.
Grant pulled into the Grange to the strange looks of everyone who saw a new car they hadn’t seen before. They were surprised when Grant got out of it. They’d never seen him drive it.
Grant went in and found Drew. “I need a meal card for Rita Folsom and her two kids,” Grant said. He whispered, “Make up something that she’s donating. Trust me.” Drew nodded and a few minutes later came back with an official Pierce Point card for Rita “and two infant children.” Grant thanked him and left.
Grant pulled into the Minton house and rang the doorbell. He could hear a woman crying. Jay Minton answered the door and, without saying a word, waved Grant into the living room. Jay’s wife, Grace, was crying. Rita wasn’t. Rita just kept hugging Nick. She gave him each baby to hold one last time. For a while, at least. He would be back to visit. Grant was amazed at how understanding Rita was. Amazed.
Grant felt like he was the mean sheriff taking someone away from their family to go to prison. He was trying to avoid eye contact with Rita, but she wasn’t avoiding him.
“I understand,” Rita said to Grant. “I understand,” she repeated.
She paused and got teary. “Take good care of him, OK?” She didn’t want to cry because she knew that would make this even harder on Nick. She needed him to have a positive attitude and go do his job safely. And come home. She knew that crying or telling him he couldn’t go wouldn’t work and would just make things worse. Besides, back at Ft. Lewis and on the trip out to Pierce Point, they had talked about the fact that Nick would probably join up with the Patriots if an opportunity came up. They had prayed about it. They both knew it was what Nick was supposed to do. That made it easier. But it was still hard. Really hard.
Grant handed Rita the meal card and said, “It’s the least we can do for you, Rita.” She had never seen a Pierce Point meal card so he explained what it meant.
“I got you a temporary card because, in a little while, Nick will be back and your contribution to the community will officially end. Then you’re off the gravy train, ma’am,” Grant said, hoping she would laugh. She did. It was a tension-breaking laugh.
Grant felt awkward watching the final goodbye hug. “I’ll be in the car,” he said. Jay motioned for Grace to come with him into the kitchen. It was just Nick, Rita, and the two babies in the living room.
Grant went out to the car. He expected to be there a few minutes. Instead, Nick came out after a few seconds. Apparently they didn’t like long goodbyes.
Nick got into the car and was all business. He wasn’t going to let this affect him. Sure, Grant thought, maybe not now, but tonight Nick will be a mess. Grant knew. He’d been there. Except when he had to leave his family, it was against their wishes and he thought they didn’t want him back.
Grant handed Nick a tiger-stripe camouflage handkerchief. “Sorry, dude, OPSEC,” Grant said, using the acronym for “operational security” that an Army guy like Nick would know. Nick nodded and put the handkerchief over his eyes.
Grant had never driven a car with a blindfolded passenger. It was a very weird experience. Grant felt like he was in a movie or something.
Grant drove to the farm. He had never been there from the road; he’d always come by water. He knew from a map how to get there and wondered what kind of guard they had at the road entrance.
Duh. Better call ahead so he didn’t get shot.
Grant pulled over and grabbed the handheld ham radio in the pouch on his kit. He kept it on the Team frequency, but they didn’t talk much on it. About all Grant did with the radio, other than using it a handful of times to talk to the Team or to dispatch at the Grange, was to check the battery each night and occasionally charge it.
Just because he didn’t use it often didn’t mean it wasn’t important. Having ham radios, which had lots of frequencies and much longer ranges than CBs, was critical. Today was a perfect example of how that little radio could save his life. Friendly fire sucks, as Ted used to say.
“Green 1, Giraffe 7, over,” Grant said. “Green 1” was obviously Ted. Sap, who was from Wisconsin, got “Cheese 2.”
But “Giraffe 7”? Grant never understood why he got the lame call sign of an animal with an absurdly long neck. And “7”? Was he the seventh most badass out of…seven? Oh well. Grant cared more about not getting shot by the Marion Farm guards than about what his call sign was.