Manda nodded. “Two to the chest and one to the head,” she said, repeating what Grant had told her on the range. She was a combination of sweet girl and a well-trained potential killer. Just what she needed to be in times like this.
“Daddy, what’s it like to shoot people?” she asked quietly. Grant could tell she was scared about having to shoot someone.
Horrible. That was the answer. But Grant couldn’t say that because it might scare her into not acting when her life depended on it.
“What’s it like to shoot someone?” Grant said. “A relief. A relief that they didn’t kill me or Ron back home. Those men,” or boys, Grant couldn’t really see them that night, “wanted to kill me and Ron and who knows how many others. You know, I have two main thoughts about what I had to do that night. First, those men shouldn’t have been there, coming at me and Ron with guns. They should have been at home not trying to hurt people. Second, I saved lives that night. That’s a good thing, even if you have to do nasty things to get it done.”
Grant paused. He had another thought. “You know something else about that night? I didn’t even hear my gun going off. Before that night, I had thought that it would be loud without hearing protection, but I don’t even remember hearing a thing. I was so focused on stopping those guys.” Grant thought it would be good for Manda to not worry about hearing loss at a time when someone was trying to kill her.
She nodded, relieved.
Grant needed to get some sleep. “Honey, can you make sure things are quiet in the cabin while I sleep?” He pointed to the master bedroom, the one bedroom with a door that closed.
“Sure,” Manda said. “Can we talk some more about stuff?”
“Of course,” Grant said, happy that his teenager wanted to talk to him. “Anytime. In fact, I want to try to take tomorrow off. What about then?”
“Sure. Nighty night, Daddy,” Manda said, just like she did when she was little.
That reminded Grant of the old days. He remembered taking Manda’s favorite stuffed animal—a pink bear—to her at kindergarten when she’d forgotten it. He remembered her seventh birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. What a dump that place was. All the kids who ate the pizza there ended up throwing up. He remembered going for ice cream in the summer and that Manda always ordered mint chocolate chip, just like her mom.
Grant looked at the bed. It seemed so inviting. As he took off his pistol belt, he started thinking about how his old life seemed a million miles away. An entire lifetime ago; someone else’s life. Remembering things from his old life seemed like he was watching a movie. It wasn’t his life, but he could see the events. He couldn’t believe that the guy who he remembered dropping off the bear, taking kids to a birthday party, and getting ice cream was the same guy who had been up all night with an AR-15, had basically stolen a semi load of food, was wanted by the government, and… had killed three people. That guy. Was he really the same guy as the one who dropped off the pink teddy bear at Chuck E. Cheese?
Chapter 124
Paras
(May 13)
Jeanie woke up feeling lucky. She felt lucky to be in a protected place like Camp Murray with the walls, barbed wire, and troops. The power was always on and the internet always worked. They had medics and a full hospital there. She felt especially lucky to be able to eat all the fabulous food she wanted in the cafeteria, and she had a great meal every time, complete with linen napkins and real silverware. Her boyfriend, Jim, was pretty safe, too, in his National Guard unit. They had security and plenty to eat. Given what she knew from the briefings they were getting, they were very fortunate to be so well taken care of.
Jeanie had been struggling with guilt for the past few days. She was bothered by the guilt of knowing that she had scrumptious meals and was totally safe while the rest of the people were…she couldn’t really finish that sentence in her mind. The regular people were suffering in varying degrees. Some were doing OK, especially in Seattle, at least the nice neighborhoods that didn’t have looting. Others were struggling with periodic empty shelves in the stores and worrying about feeding their kids. Others, especially out in the sticks, were on their own. God only knew how they were doing. The economy was destroyed. No one was working, at least in the private sector, but with the government nationalizing everything there really wasn’t a “private sector” anymore. Crime was out of control.
The second reason why Jeanie had been feeling guilty was that some of her friends were now wanted by the government. Especially Grant Matson. He was on the POI list, as were all the Washington Association of Business guys she knew. She’d been to their houses, drank beer with them, knew their kids. Now those guys were wanted. She used to think like they did, believing in limited government, and now she was a government employee actively working to keep the government in operation. She had become one of “them”: a government insider who had it way better than regular people.
Last night she had thought about the guilt, slept on it, and woke up realizing she was lucky. She was taken care of and she wasn’t about to be arrested. Survival is all about taking care of yourself, she thought. She also thought that she was doing a damned good job of it. It wasn’t her fault that she was in such good shape compared to the rest of the people. Lucky. She was lucky, she kept telling herself.
She checked the headlines on her laptop before the 7:00 a.m. briefing. Two of the stories she worked on were on the news. The first had her quoted as a “high level state official” and was about how the rumors of the federal government sending even more help to Washington State were true. Well, that’s what Jeanie had been told, so she told the reporter it was true. The second story featured video of her explaining how the strict federal anti-fraud measures in place for the FCards worked and how people were cooperating to make sure their neighbors got enough. She doubted that was true, but, hey, this was her job.
She loved being on camera. She was beautiful, energetic, and enthusiastic. And, since she worked for the “Republican” State Auditor Rick Menlow, the Governor’s Office loved to put her on camera. It reinforced their message that the Crisis was “no time for politics” and “we’re all in this together.”
The Democrats running Washington State were already getting ready to let Menlow win the next gubernatorial election. (If they could even administer an election given the Crisis; whether to have the election was still being debated.) The Democrats knew that Menlow would govern exactly as they had and they could still blame everything that went wrong on the Republicans. Perfect. Jeanie knew she, and especially Menlow, were being used, but given the alternative of trying to live outside Camp Murray with the shortages, crime, and fear, it was a good trade.
The briefing started on time, as usual. Camp Murray was full of military people and after about a day, there was a military atmosphere. Things were on time. Everyone said “sir” or “ma’am” to each other. People stood at attention when the Governor walked in the room. That kind of thing.
Menlow came to this briefing. He usually didn’t attend these morning meetings. In fact, Jeanie had no idea what her boss did all day long. She just did her job and assumed he was doing his. Although, there really wasn’t much auditing happening these days. Almost all the staff of the State Auditor’s Office were either laid off or had just stopped showing up to work. Jeanie figured that Menlow was basically being the Governor’s understudy. He would attend the meetings with the Governor, see what she did, and meet people he would be working with when he was the Governor. He probably was meeting with senior National Guard brass to learn the most important part of the job of being Governor during the Crisis: Commander in Chief of the Guard. Of course, almost all the Guard units had been federalized, and therefore were under federal command. But, the public expected the Governor to appear to be tirelessly working to coordinate the relief efforts. So the “Commander in Chief” thing was constantly pitched to the media. They ate it up and faithfully regurgitated it back to the public.