Next John dug into the kit he kept at the cabin and came out with orange signal whistles for everyone. There were giggles and laughter at first as many of them suddenly felt like lifeguards. But these were special naval whistles often attached to lifejackets. They issued a shrill hundred-and-two-decibel dual tone that could travel great distances.
Next John explained how they should be used. If anyone spotted a single individual or small group approaching the cabin via the path, they were to give one short blast. A large group two blasts. And for anyone seen anywhere near or past the tree line they were to issue three short blasts. Calling others for help for any other reason was one very long blast. They drilled on this for close to an hour before John felt they all understood.
With only a single fog horn on Willow Creek, their early warning system had been vulnerable to an enemy with a scoped weapon, taking out the one person who could alert the others. Now, each of them had the ability to send a warning to the others or call for help if required.
Each of the adults would also carry at least a pistol on them at all times. Again, this seemed like a no-brainer, but the additional weight was cumbersome to Kay and Diane as they sweated over tilling soil, planting seeds and creating a mesh enclosure so small animals wouldn’t get at the crops.
The final element of the cabin’s security was organizing watches. With so few of them, it became nearly impossible to tackle the massive volume of work that needed to get done if twenty percent or more of their work force was keeping an eye on things. John and the others reasoned that since they were all outside engaged with various projects and that they also each had the orange sea whistles, they could get away without patrols during the day. At night however, each of them would take turns staying awake in three-hour blocks. Armed with an AR, pistol and the PVS-14 nightvision monocle, the designated person on watch would remain in the cabin and do their best to stay alert. If anyone were to approach, they would use the whistle. The sound would be deafening indoors, but it was guaranteed to get the rest of them on their feet.
Diane’s experience in the last days of Willow Creek with Patty Long’s improvised medical clinic had honed her ability to clean and dress wounds, even remove bullets. Over the last year, John had also stockpiled enough peroxide, clean bandages, basic medical instruments (scalpels and dressing pliers) as well as QuikClot to open their own hospital ward.
With food, security and medical largely taken care of, the next item to be addressed was water. Last fall, John had installed a thousand-gallon water storage tank. It had a hose and hand pump designed to pull the water in the event of a grid-down situation. There was also a rainwater collection system that would add water back to the tanks or alternatively store it in external fifty-gallon drums. A few drops of bleach per gallon could be used on the rainwater if needed, but the water in the thousand-gallon storage tank was clean to drink. It would also double as their bathing and dish water. With so many of them now living under one roof, the discussion about water had been more about usage. As long as it rained the tank would be replenished. In a worst-case scenario, the many streams in northern Tennessee would do the trick, one of which ran a hundred yards behind the cabin.
John had just finished checking the eavestroughs and cleaning out the fifty-gallon drum when he noticed Emma by herself, filling a sandbag. Sandbag was a misnomer since the bags weren’t really filled with sand, they were filled with hard-packed dirt. The reason was a simple one; there wasn’t a sandpit nearby. But these would do for now. Nevertheless, John was proud of how hard Emma was working.
He went over and offered to give her a hand.
“Sure,” she said, not looking up.
“How you getting along with our guests?” he asked, grinning to himself.
“Fine.”
“Not better than fine?”
She fought a smile. “Okay, really fine.” She looked like she was about to say something, perhaps about how much she hated having to give up her room, and then thought better of it. “What about you?” Emma asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.
John glanced over at Tim and Brandon sawing a fallen tree to make firewood and kindling. “I won’t lie. Way better than I thought I would.” And the two of them burst into laughter, equal parts humor and exhaustion. “Our family’s been living this lifestyle for a while now. They still have a lot to learn, but they’re willing. Thankfully, they aren’t like most people who try and take the reins when they don’t know where they’re going. It takes a strong person to lead and a wise person to know when it’s time to follow. I’m happy Tim and his family seem to know the difference.”
There was a long pause as Emma went back to filling her sandbag and then stopped and glanced up at him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I wasn’t trying to put the family in danger. After all the lights went out and the cars stopped I knew it was serious, just like you’d always said. I thought if things got crazy, Brandon and his family could maybe meet us up here. I never thought they’d come on their own.”
“Or tell half the neighborhood.”
She shook her head.
“That’s the problem with letting go of a secret,” John said, scooping up some dirt and dumping it into the bag. “You never know how far it might spin out of control.”
“Do you think we’re safe here, Dad? I mean really safe, once and for all?”
John was about to say yes when the stillness was shattered by two shrill whistle blasts.
Chapter 41
The sounds from the whistle came streaking up the path from the road. Tim and Brandon dropped the wood they were piling and ran in that direction. John rushed to the cabin and grabbed both AR-15s and three extra magazines. When he emerged from the cabin Diane, Kay, Emma and Natalie were moving toward the gravel path. Diane had her Beretta 9mm unholstered and in the low ready position.
“Where’s Gregory?” John asked.
Diane shrugged fearfully. “I thought he was with you.”
“Listen, you three stay in the cabin and lock the door. If anyone you don’t know approaches, shoot them.”
John then hurried toward the road. Two short blasts meant a large group of individuals were moving toward the property.
There was shouting up ahead and John picked up speed. When the scene came into view his heart leapt with fear. Swallowing hard, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
A large group of people on foot, some of them dragging carts and small wagons, were approaching the fallen tree that blocked the path. Gregory, Brandon and Tim were on this side of the tree, telling them to turn back. For all the security work they’d done, there was only a single pistol between the three of them. If John hadn’t brought the ARs they could very easily have found themselves outgunned.
The crowd wasn’t listening to Tim’s demands that they leave. John shouldered one of the ARs and fired the other one into the air. The crack drew everyone’s attention. A second later the rifle was in the high ready position, John’s finger beside the trigger guard. The next time he touched the trigger, people would be dying.
Tim spun in time to catch the AR that John tossed to him. The ragtag group frozen now on the gravel path didn’t look all that dangerous. If anything, John guessed they were part of the massive horde they’d seen lumbering down the interstate a few days back.
“This is private property,” John warned them. “I’m giving you all three seconds to turn around and leave before I open fire.” Even though they didn’t look particularly dangerous, this was a big group and in a moment like this John’s charity had its limits. He’d seen plenty of selfless acts repaid by more hungry mouths when word began to spread that a veritable soup kitchen had opened up. The Applebys were the only tenants he was willing to take at the moment.