Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (4 page)

“OK, dad. I’ll be right back.”

John was tired of using flashlights and candles to light his way. He really wanted to go out and fire up the generator. His plan for interior
illumination was to string up LED Christmas lights, but he needed to set up a clean room before he could go outside. He saw the hall clock and was surprised at how fast the time was moving. He grabbed the step-ladder and was heading to the laundry room when several loud booms echoed in the entryway from the front door. He leaned the ladder against the wall and walked into the entryway. John saw Abby reach out to open the door and he yelled, “Abby, stop! Don’t open the door, baby.”

Jenna and Adam emerged from the kitchen, curious about what had prompted John to raise his voice to Abby. He ignored them and remained focused on Abby. “I’ll get the door. It’s OK, sweetie.” Abby looked more startled than upset, but she nodded and stepped away from the door just as three more loud booms echoed through the entryway. “Jenna, please take Abby into the kitchen. Adam, I want you to go to the powder room and stand ready, but don’t do anything until I say.”

Three more loud booms echoed in the entry.
That door is solid oak
, thought John,
it takes a very heavy hand to make that much noise
. “Now go.” he said to Adam as he reached for his pistol. He realized he wasn’t carrying it, and walked quickly to his desk in the den. He opened a desk drawer and entered the code to open his small gun safe. Now armed, John checked the load with a half-pull of the pistol’s slide and glanced into the chamber. Satisfied it was loaded, John slid it into the waistband of his pants and approached the door. Four more loud booms reverberated through the entryway. “Just a minute!” yelled John, angry at the person’s rudeness and impatience.

A muffled response was heard from the other side of the door, but John couldn’t tell what the person said. He approached the door and peeked through the peep hole. It was dark. John knew it was a man, and that he was probably holding his finger over the peep hole. He turned and waved Adam forward. “Yes, dad?”

“Go upstairs and see if you can see who’s at the door, or if anyone else is standing around out front. Go quick,” John urgently whispered
while resting a hand on Adam’s shoulder, “and then come back and report.” Adam nodded and was off in a flash.

John approached the door and yelled, “Step away from the door and let me see your hands!” It was difficult to see without a patio light. John knew he would have to do something about that before the next visitor arrived. “Do you have a flashlight?” yelled John through the door. Something shifted in the darkness and John could vaguely make out the profile of a man. It looked to John as if he was holding his hands up in front of his chest, but he couldn’t exactly tell in the darkness.

John heard Adam run down the stairs and turned to meet him. “What’d you see?”

“Not much, dad. It’s really dark out there, but I don’t think there’s anyone else in the yard.”

“OK, thanks. Now resume your post in the bathroom and wait for my orders,” said John, as he turned Adam around by his shoulders and gently pushed him toward the powder room. John grabbed his pistol, and keeping the gun hidden behind the door, he reached out and unlocked the deadbolt with his left hand. He cracked the door just enough to see the man more clearly. The stranger immediately began to approach the door. “Hold it right there!” commanded John.

“Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help,” said the ash covered man. He was large in stature, with a short, thick beard. A ball cap on his head cast an even darker shadow over his face. John didn’t recognize the man, and since every potential recognizable feature was covered in gray ash, the man looked completely indistinguishable. But John was certain the man standing before him didn’t resemble a neighbor, or anyone else who lived near him. It was only a feeling, but it was a strong one.

“What can I do for you?” John asked sternly.

The man began to approach again, but more slowly this time. He appeared to be unarmed and continued to hold his hands up to his front, palms outward. John thought the man was either law enforcement, former military, or had been treated with suspicion and arrested
on several occasions. He was just too familiar with the “I’m defenseless” sign to have no experience with apprehension. “Keep your hands to your front and turn around . . . slowly!” commanded John, as he shined his flashlight over the man and scanned him with the beam in an attempt to identify any telltale bulge of a hidden weapon.

“I just want to talk,” said the man.

“Do as I ask or I’ll shut the door and you can be on your way!” replied John.

The man turned slowly for John, and speaking in an eerily calm voice, he said, “Look, I just need your help. I’m Darrel, from down the street.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know you. Again, what can I do for you?” John opened the door to about five inches, being sure to keep the right half of his body positioned behind it. He shifted his weight to his right foot in anticipation of a charge on the door, and waited for the man to continue. John knew his foot wasn’t the best door stop, but it would have to do under the circumstances. He silently cursed himself for not having completed the door brace before now.

The man removed his hat and brushed ash off his face. He began to swat his hat against his body to loosen the ash that coated him. A gray cloud accumulated around the man in the still air of the front patio. John wasn’t pleased with the man’s actions, but he wasn’t inclined to complain given the environment. As far as John was concerned, the man could knock off all the ash he wanted, he still wasn’t coming in the house.

“The power’s out,” said the gray man who called himself Darrel.

“Yeah, we have the same problem here,” replied John, blandly.

“Do you have any batteries to spare?” asked Darrel, taking another small step closer to the door. John wasn’t worried about the man’s approach. He was actually ready for him to charge, and if he did, John decided he would just move out of the way and let the door swing freely open under the man’s weight, and then shoot him in the leg.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any spare batteries,” said John.

“Just two double-A batteries,” said the man, “That’s all I need, man.”

“I said I don’t have any batteries to spare,” repeated John, patiently.

“I know you have batteries,” said Darrel. “You have a working flashlight.”

“And you don’t, so what does that make me,” said John, irritated with the dialogue.

“That makes you a survivalist, in my book.”

“Really? You can tell all that from my flashlight?” said John.

“That, and your windows are all boarded up. It looks like you’re ready for a fight.”

“Is that so,” said John. “And what are you?”

“Me?” snorted the man. “I was a construction worker, but now I guess I’m just trying to be a survivalist - like you.” John stayed silent and waited for the man to continue. “Look, can’t you spare at least one double-A battery?” he asked, more serious than pleading. Darrel managed to move within arms-reach of the front door, and John was ready to end the conversation.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” said John, and he stepped back to shut the door. At that same moment the big man stepped forward and placed his booted right foot between the door and the door frame, effectively preventing John from closing the door. Instantly furious, and tactically activated by the man’s arrogance and intrusion, John flung open the door, and in one swift movement, kicked Darrel square in the chest with his right foot.

John leaned into the kick, exerting all the force he could muster given his position and timing, and sent the man staggering backward, across the patio. The man lost his footing on the top step of the entryway patio and began to fall backward, swinging his arms in an effort to regain his balance. He slipped off the steps and fell to the ground, landing hard on his butt and spraying ash up around him.

John’s follow-up movement was just as fluid. He approached the man and pointed the pistol at his face from five feet away. Darrel’s eyes
went wide in surprise. Like a crab, he scooted backward on his hands and feet, plowing ash up against his back. At peace with his position and control of the situation, John put his finger on the pistol’s trigger and pulled in the slack, stopping just short of firing the weapon. In a clear and calm voice, he said “You are not welcome here, and if I ever see you on my doorstep again I’ll shoot you in the head and bury you in the backyard. Do I make myself clear?”

Darrel nodded, and studied John’s face with new appraisal, as if he realized he had greatly underestimated John and wouldn’t do it again. John recognized that look. He had seen it before a hundred times even, on the faces of defiant Iraqi insurgents. He couldn’t shoot them either, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t communicate the threat. John backed up the front steps and crossed the patio. As soon as he entered the house the door closed with a dull thud. Adam turned the bolt to lock the door and leaned his back against it. “Dad, that was awesome.”

John walked over to the entryway staircase and sat on the bottom step, all the time willing his heart rate to return to normal. He was practiced at controlling his adrenaline release, but if it wasn’t completely depleted when called, it took a while to bring himself back into normal time - to a normal heart and respiration rate.

John called his adrenaline release ‘fast time’ because, when flushed with it, everything seemed to slow down for him. While in fast time, John saw things as if they were moving in slow motion. Everyone and everything around him moved slowly except for him. He always felt like he was thinking and moving at regular speed, but once again he had moved fast, so fast that his foot was on Darrel’s chest, pushing him backward down the steps, before the man even realized that John had actually opened the door for him.

John took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths as he tried to recover. Jenna and Abby emerged from the kitchen, but Jenna took one look at John and turned around. She returned a minute later with a hand-held, battery-powered, vacuum, and started lifting the ash off of John’s clothing, the stairs, and the entryway floor. John noticed that her hand
was shaking when she ran the vacuum over his head and shoulders. He let her clean the ash from him without comment. “It’s time for a family meeting,” said John. “Where do you guys want to hold it?”

“In the kitchen,” said Jenna, the first to speak. Everyone followed her in.

They sat in their usual seats around the table and stared at Jenna’s candle as the flame danced on a short wick. The candle cast a comfortable, but barely functional light for them to see each other by, but it was still better than a flashlight, or the darkness for that matter. It was warm and inviting, personal even. John knew that most modern candles were designed to be more decorative than functional, used mainly as decorative accents and deodorizing then for practical sources of light. With that, he remembered the oil lamps in the garage. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of them earlier.

With his heart rate close to normal once again, and his breathing calm and regular, all that remained was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. John ran his handkerchief over his brow and said, “I can see I need to pull out some of our camping equipment. The oil lamps will produce a lot more light than these candles.” Everybody nodded, but John could see the persistent tension and concern in their faces. Maybe not as much in Adam’s face, but certainly in Jenna’s and Abby’s faces. “OK,” said John, “Let’s talk about what just happened.”

“I’m sorry I tried to open the door, daddy.” said Abby, and she began to cry.

Jenna slid her chair close to Abby and reached an arm around her shoulder. John did the same from his side of the table. He wrapped an arm around his daughter as she cried softly on her mother’s shoulder. “Abby, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” cooed John.

“I don’t think it’s the yelling that upset her,” replied Jenna. “It’s the realization that that man could have walked right over her and come into our house.”

“Yes, of course, but I still didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry I scared you, baby.” John cleared his throat and continued, “Things changed a little
with the earthquakes, they changed a lot when the ash started to fall, and they’ll change even more now that the power’s off.” John looked into the candle and focused on the small yellow flame as he continued to speak. “The loss of electrical power will be what upsets people the most,” he said. “Imagine sitting at home, in the dark, thinking the sun won’t be out again for who knows how long . . . perhaps three or four days, even.” John paused, and added, “Would you guys rather be in the shelter?” Jenna and Abby shook their heads no, but Adam expressed his desire with an enthusiastic up and down nod.

“Adam, you’re interested in the shelter because you think it will be fun and exciting, but after a day or two you’d wish you were back in the house.”

“That’s not true, dad. I just know we would be safer in there,” replied Adam, hurt by his dad’s critical assessment of his interest.

“You’re right, it would be safer in the shelter, but it’s our fallback position, and we don’t need to fall back just yet. I’m not ready to abandon the house, and that’s exactly what we’d be doing if we moved into the shelter right now. Besides, our house is much safer than it looks, we just need to take a few more precautions. So here’s what we’re going to do. . .”

John spent the next forty-five minutes detailing the specifics of their family security protocols. He told them about wanting to brace the front and back doors so they couldn’t be forced opened, and that he’d figure out a way to illuminate, or see into the dead-space on the other side of the front door, the space that couldn’t be seen from upstairs. He also mentioned plans to camouflage the front patio, and make it look like their home had already been looted.

Jenna was the most curious about the camouflage, so John explained that he would spray paint the plywood window covers and make it look, at least to the casual observer, that their house had been burnt and vandalized. He said he would throw some old clothing, and other unnecessary household items around the front yard, and make it look like they had been looted. John had other plans in mind, like trip
wires and early warning devices, tangle foot, and even ditches, but they weren’t at that point of a defense, so he kept those thoughts to himself. However, John did discuss what he called, emergency action drills. He covered rules on candles, and what to do if there was a house fire. He talked about what to do if someone was seen outside their home, and how to communicate the news to the rest of the family. They discussed alarms, as well as where to best observe the property from inside the house, and where to go, and what to do if someone broke into their home. John covered many other plans as well, but he spent most of his time talking about how to contend with people, especially hostile people, like the man that came to the door asking for batteries.