Just gone.
His blood boiled.
For years, he’d tried to the best of his ability not to push this prepping stuff down anyone’s throat. He’d spent countless hours in thought, trying to construct ways to prepare his family without coming across as an all-consumed far-right-winger or an overboard tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy theorist. He’d tried to make it fun. Or adventurous. He’d tried to make it a family affair, instead of just putting his foot down and telling her they—she—had to do it.
He’d bitten his tongue so many times with his family, especially his wife. He loved her… He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want any fussing or fighting going on over his hobby—as she liked to call it.
When she’d finally agreed to learn to shoot a gun, he’d done his best to teach her. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t teach her. When she was with him, she was all thumbs. She couldn’t remember basic safety rules. Once, she’d nearly shot him! She limp-wristed the pistol and jammed up her firearms. She tried to put her bullets into the magazines backward. She forgot to put on her ears—and her eyes—at the range. She muzzled him and everyone else. She was actually a hazard at the range; at least with him there.
They just made each other too nervous. She’d given up and asked his little brother, Dusty, to teach her instead.
Grayson hadn’t said a word about it, even though it had stung a bit. He was just glad she’d get more training. But she hadn’t been serious about it. She didn’t practice. She didn’t want to shoot. She checked off the minimum number of boxes and said she was done. Now, she seemed even more scared of guns than she was before they’d spent valuable time teaching her.
She probably didn’t remember a damn thing.
And the gardening… he’d let her plant whatever she wanted. True, some of the stuff in her Herb Hills—as she called them—could be a benefit, but he could’ve used more help growing real food. If she’d given her efforts to the main garden they’d be in a lot better shape right now than they were. Especially with one-third of their food preps missing.
Instead, he’d let her putter around in her floppy hat and red gingham-checked apron, tending her herbs, looking like something from a fashion-shoot for the cover of Southern Living Magazine. Meanwhile, he toiled at the big gardens for hours and hours, with sweat creeping down the crack of his ass and his knees nearly giving out.
He never complained. She was cute in that outfit after all. But he could have used more help.
Lots of little things about prepping, survival and preparedness would have been easier if Olivia had been on board, instead of quietly bucking him. Her twin sister, Gabby, had jumped in with both feet, doing her own research, watching YouTube videos, joining online prepping groups and really learning how to handle a gun. He kept hoping Olivia would follow in her footsteps; usually they did everything together.
But it never caught on with Olivia. So, he’d been very careful what he’d asked of her when it came to prepping and preparing… and because of that, she rarely went against him on it.
Until now.
This…
He blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. He could feel a vein ticking in his forehead. His tooth-ache also throbbed loudly, reminding him that he couldn’t ignore it forever.
This was…
He clenched his jaw and shook his head slowly, from side to side. He couldn’t even begin to imagine where the hell the stuff was. Bottom line: It wasn’t here.
Pulling back his arm, he hesitated, trying to control himself.
But then he let go and power-slammed his closed fist into the side of the steel container once.
And again.
Pow.
And again.
Pow.
He shook his fist in the air.
Ouch.
That hurt.
But he felt better.
He rubbed his bloody knuckles, swearing under his breath.
He’d been right. No one had said it… yet. But they had to know. Why wasn’t anyone speaking up? Just a ‘Hey Grayson, sure am glad you had the foresight to start prepping since there’s no more food or gas to be had anywhere. Thanks SO MUCH for making sure we don’t starve. And thanks for making sure we’d have water. Hot water at that…’
He shrugged. He didn’t really need anyone to say it. He wasn’t that shallow.
Just a simple thank you would be nice.
While he did regret that the grid went down, he did felt a tiny bit vindicated. Finally, there was a real event. One they didn’t know how long would last—maybe forever?—and no one had even heard a murmur from the officials, or the government. Nothing on the radio. No cell phone communications. No knock on the door from the National Guard. No guys riding by in military vehicles with bullhorns screaming, ‘hey, hang in there, the power is coming back on soon…’
Not a whisper.
Finally, everything he’d prepared for was here.
He’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been just a bit excited once the women arrived safely home. He’d thought about it for years and suddenly, just like that, it was here.
Now the wind was out of his sails.
After this discovery, he wasn’t as ready as he’d thought he’d be.
Thanks to his wife.
With his own family: Graysie and Olivia, that was three mouths to feed. Adding Jake and Gabby made five. If Dusty and Emma returned with Rickey, that made eight. Then he had to add Puck in… he couldn’t let the boy starve, and Gabby’s friends, Tina and Tarra. He wouldn’t turn them away either.
Eleven people.
One dog.
And a donkey.
Thirteen mouths.
Not counting the chickens.
He looked around and sighed.
Sure, they had plenty right now, even with the loss, but for how long? Just the eleven people were a lot of bellies to fill. Especially with the hard work they’d all be doing to survive, and burning more calories. And Ozzie had to be fed, too.
At least the dog-food tote was still there. Maybe they’d all have to eat that. And a damn donkey! That just beat all. That was just what he needed when the shit hit the fan. And he had no clue what to do about Jenny—
“—Grayson?” Olivia whispered, and poked her head through the door of the container.
Timidly, she walked in, guilt written all over her face.
Gabby and Jake walked in behind her.
Emotional support or back-up?
Olivia looked around at the mess, and then at Grayson’s bloody fist. “What’s wrong?”
Grayson raised his eyebrows and lowered his head, looking down at the old wood floor, biting his lip.
Silently, he counted to five.
Five.
Olivia wrung her hands.
Four.
Her shoulders slowly raised around her ears.
Three.
She quickly looked behind her, making sure Gabby and Jake were still nearby.
Two.
She blew out a slow breath.
One.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Grayson slowly lifted his head and walked the few steps over to his wife. He took her hands in his. So much smaller… and looked into her shiny eyes.
He gave her a small smile; very small. “Honey, where is the rest of our food and preps?”