“But that doesn’t mean I can’t give you a few simple pointers which might help.”
Al got a glass out of the cupboard and turned the tap on. Cold water was still flowing and he filled the glass and brought it to his lips.
“Did you fill buckets up like I suggested?”
“I did,” Al replied. “Including the bathtub.”
“Good. I’ve got Gregory doing the same thing at our place now. But you need to be prepared for when the water stops and it will.”
“Really?”
“At the very least, your water may become discolored or unsafe to drink and I wanna show you how to clean it.” In some ways, Al was like the father John had never known. Taking a few minutes to help him out wasn’t a waste. Somehow he felt it was his duty.
“What would you suggest?”
“If the color changes or you need to filter water with debris, best thing is to use a coffee filter. If you run out a t-shirt will also work. Next you wanna take an eye dropper and add eight drops of bleach per gallon of water. Shake it well. Then smell the water. If it doesn’t smell faintly of bleach you wanna add a few more drops, but never more than sixteen.”
John went over to the back door. Al’s place didn’t have a sliding glass one, which was good. “Wedge a chair underneath the handle and nail the feet into the floor. Do the same with the door to the garage but be sure to remove anything from there you think you’ll need.”
“I’ve got some plywood and two-by-fours out there as well,” Al said. “Should I put those over the front windows?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Coming from Mr. Paranoid, a statement like that really surprises me.”
John couldn’t help but chuckle. “I can see that. But here’s my thinking, Al. The best defense you can have in a situation like this is to blend in. If your house looks like Fort Knox, the bad guys will wonder what valuables you’re guarding in here.”
“We don’t have much to steal.”
“Maybe more than you think. Remember, right now paper money is quickly becoming toilet paper. I was at the Publix earlier and the prices for standard items have skyrocketed. Most of the shelves were already empty.”
There was suddenly a worried look on Al’s face, like all of this was becoming real. “My retirement savings.”
John put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to say that’s probably all gone. These days most of our money’s nothing more than ones and zeros floating around in some computer system.”
“I don’t believe it,” Al said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
“I can’t blame you. My purpose in coming over here wasn’t to unnerve you. Most everyone out there’s running around thinking it’s only a matter of time before things return to normal. I don’t think they will, not for a while, and many people won’t live to see that day. In another few days the reality’s going to settle in and when it does, the situation might get ugly. I want you to be ahead of the curve, Al. You’ve been a good neighbor over the years and I want you to at least be somewhat prepared.”
Al nodded, vaguely.
“Good. Now, after you’ve secured those entryways, you need to think of a safe place in the house you and Missy can flee to in a worst-case scenario.”
“We do have that guest bedroom in the basement.”
“Perfect! You’re going to turn that into your safe room. Use that wood you mentioned to reinforce the door and the frame. Then add a doorjamb that you can bolt to the floor. Bring down a cache of food and water so you can wait out any bad guys who show up.” John produced the Ruger SR22 and the box of ammo. “This here is your last resort and it sure beats the hell out of that baseball bat you’re using now.”
“Oh, John, you know I don’t like guns.”
“Yeah, I know, but liking’s got nothing to do with it. If someone breaks in here and means you or Missy any harm, you need to be ready. A .22 caliber bullet won’t cut a man in two, but it’ll be enough to wound and maybe even kill.” John took a minute to show Al the basics of how to use it. Loading the magazine, flicking the safety on and off, pulling the slide and how to control his breath when squeezing the trigger. “Once you’re done, that safe room will become your new bedroom. No more sleeping upstairs. It’ll take you too long to get down there if someone comes in the middle of the night. You finish all that and then if you have time you can start booby-trapping windows and doorways. Nail boards at the foot of every window, upstairs and down, are a nice easy deterrent. Use your imagination.”
Al was holding the gun as though it were a venomous snake.
“Handle her well and with the respect she deserves and she won’t bite you, I promise.”
“Sounds like something my wife would say.”
The two men laughed and John could only pray that Al would implement what they’d talked about.
Chapter 11
John, Diane and the kids busied themselves over the next few hours fortifying the house. The strategy was similar to what John had recommended for Al. The truth of the matter was, if bad guys wanted to get into your house, nothing was going to stop them. You might reinforce your front door and add ballistic security glass, but what good would all that do when someone drove a truck in through your living-room wall?
John recalled seeing house-to-house searches conducted in Iraq. Many of the families there lived behind walls with strong gates and the Marines had simply knocked the gates down by smashing into them with their Humvees. If there was a will, there was a way. That was what made John’s approach somewhat different from many of his colleagues in the prepping community. Funneling intruders into designated kill zones was part of his strategy. Forget trying to keep them out. Wound them getting in with razor wire around the inside edge of windows and sharpened nail boards designed to pierce all but the toughest boots. Then lead them down a hallway where the barrel of a shotgun awaited them.
Ironically, John’s strategy meant slightly breaking his own rules. The sliding door and windows at the back of the house would all be boarded up on the inside and out. The front of the house—the side visible to the average passerby—would look normal. Criminals who snuck around back would become discouraged and opt for knocking down the front door or breaking a window. If the first few obstacles didn’t deter them, then John’s next trick would surely do the job. A single hallway led from the front of the house to the kitchen and the basement. It was a nice choke point where John had installed a five-by-five-foot AR500 ballistic steel plate with a gun port and a slit allowing him to see. The metal plate was speced to withstand most small arms.
If that didn’t stop or dissuade the intruders, then they could flee to the basement and the pod. The pod hatch was set in the floor behind a false wall. Anyone who chopped through the basement door and came after them would find nothing but an empty room. Of course, these were scenarios John filed away under the absolute worst case. It was his neighbors he worried about the most.
A shed in his backyard held most of the wood and other building material left over from various construction jobs he’d been on. Mounting the plywood boards over the back windows and sliding door took the most time, especially since it was similarly reinforced on the interior as well. Gregory helped him, while Emma worked on the nail boards.
For her part, Diane emptied the freezer, salvaging what she could. Last year they’d purchased a Heartland Wood Cookstove, a beautiful work of art that harkened back to the pioneering days of the 1800s. This was where Diane would operate the pressure canner. The pod in the basement already had a pantry with canned meat, vegetables and fruits. But this would allow them to preserve most everything from their deep freezer that wasn’t processed. The kids liked boxed pizzas and a few of them were left over from Diane’s trip to the grocery store before the EMP hit. For efficiency, they’d decided to start with the food that would go bad first.