299 Days: The Preparation Part 17

Some portion of the population wanted America back. They wanted to work hard and keep most of what they earned. They wanted to be free and were willing to take the b.u.mps in life that came from being free. They wanted to be self-reliant and live honorably. They were the Patriots.

Patriots all across the country were coming out of their sh.e.l.ls.

Normally, they were a very quiet group of hard-working people who were busy raising families; however the Patriots realized their country was very close to disappearing. They woke up. Fast.

One of the things that woke them up was the fact that Mexico was starting up a full-scale civil war. The drug lords who had been effectively running the border areas of Mexico decided to take over the whole corrupt country. It was b.l.o.o.d.y. Thousands of killings; many of them beheadings. The drug gangs were extremely sophisticated armies. They were better armed than the Mexican Army (actually, the Mexican Army sold most of its arms to the drug lords so they had the same weaponry). The drug gangs were ruthless and had something the Mexican Army did not: sacks of money. By selling their product in the U.S., the drug gangs could raise billions of dollars, which buys a lot of friends, such as entire Mexican Army units that would defect.

The drug gang leaders were well read. They knew from Mao's writings on guerilla warfare that they had to effectively administer the areas they took over. The Mexican government was a corrupt joke. It couldn't keep the electricity and water running. The drug gangs did. They would behead anyone who got in their way. If they ordered that the people would have electricity and water, and heads would literally roll if that didn't happen.

Taking care of basic government services like utilities didn't mean the drug gangs were nice. They were vicious animals, pure evil. But, they were effective at governing and they had a lot of support from the population. Whether it was fear or genuine loyalty, it was still support. The gangs would provide the government services that a corrupt government could not.

The horrific violence sent a flood of refugees into the U.S. Many went right into California, which was essentially shut down with all the protests and crime waves. Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas were also hit hard by the human tidal wave coming into their states. Grant thought of "human tidal wave" as a cliche until he saw a satellite image on the news showing a literal wave of human beings flooding the U.S. border. They were hungry and needed shelter. They were human beings and had to be helped.

The U.S. Government and a few private organizations set up refugee centers in California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. With so many Hispanics in the U.S., many Americans had a personal connection to the refugees and everyone was trying to help. There were still plenty of decent people in this country.

The images on TV were unbelievable. It reminded Grant of the Albanian refugees in the Balkan War of the 1990s - except it was here in America. Hundreds of thousands of Mexican women, children, and elderly were dying of thirst, starvation, exhaustion, and cholera. It made Katrina look like a mild rainstorm.

Of course, the government screwed it up. It could not act quickly enough. In Texas, FEMA spent time trying to get environmental approvals for shelters while children were dying. A particularly powerful photograph that became famous showed a middle-aged white man in a FEMA truck on a cell phone with a dead child lying on the ground near him. He was apparently on the phone with the EPA trying to get a waiver to locate the food, water, and medical supplies for that child and about two million more people.

People were outraged. How could the government, that supposedly was the solution to every problem, not have a plan for this? The Mexican drug wars had been going on strong for years; the fall of the Mexican government could not have been a surprise. Why didn't the government have a plan for the inevitable wave of refugees? The U.S. was the richest nation in the world, but it didn't have bottled water and tents for people? People paid almost half their money to the government in taxes, but FEMA didn't have money for bottled water? Everyone saw, very graphically, that the government was absolutely incapable of taking care of them in a disaster. It was just like in Katrina, but on a much bigger scale. And, just like Katrina, the government's response to this crisis woke up some people about their incompetence. The Mexican refugee crisis woke up even more people than Katrina did, however.

Hispanics were even more outraged. What they saw was a bunch of white people who weren't helping a bunch of brown people. Hispanic groups charged the government with racism, which was preposterous. It wasn't racism; it was incompetence. Now several million Hispanics in America were convinced that the U.S. Government and all Americans hated them and wanted them dead. Members.h.i.+p in anti-white Hispanic race groups like La Raza, which was Spanish for "the Race," surged. This was exactly how racists of all colors used race and hatred for their political agendas.

Not all the refugees were children, women, and old people. Some were hardened criminals. Some of the Mexican gang members not fit for combat, like young boys and older men went up north with the waves of refugees. There was no better opportunity to transport gang members into the U.S. than by riding the human wave across the border. The criminals preyed on the refugees, raping women and children and stealing supplies. This was captured on TV, too. With the government incapable of doing anything about it.

Not only was the U.S. Government incapable of helping refugees, it was also incapable of protecting its own citizens from some very nasty people. Many of the gang members coming across the border linked up with their brethren who had just been released from the jails. They created "super gangs," which were very large, well- armed, and highly sophisticated criminal enterprises. They were closer to a military unit than a traditional street gang.

In the span of a few days, most people in America realized that they were helpless if something like that happened in their area. But, after decades of thinking nothing bad could ever happen in America, most Americans still could not bring themselves to believe that it would happen to them. The refugee crisis and violence was still far away in California and Texas; not their neighborhoods.

Despite everything going on, many people still did not recognize how dependent and vulnerable they were. Instead, many of them became paralyzed by fear and did nothing. Very few Americans started preparing like they knew they should. They sat around their TVs stunned and helpless.

Texas responded to the crisis differently than California. Texas took its status as a formerly independent republic very seriously. About two days into the mess, the Governor of Texas held a press conference and said what would become famous words, "If the Federal Government can't restore law and order to Texas, then Texas will. We entered this union of states voluntarily and we can voluntarily leave it.

And from what I've seen, the Federal Government can't do much of anything right, so we don't think they can stop us. Texas will take care of Texans. Period."

This secessionist pa.s.sion had been slowly building for years in Texas, but now, with the Feds s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up so clearly, it was finally coming to the surface for many people.

One of them was Bill Owens, Grant's friend from law school who lived in San Antonio. He had settled there at a nice law firm and served in the Texas National Guard as a Judge Advocate General (JAG) officer, which is a military lawyer.

Before the Mexican crisis, Bill called Grant periodically and told him how people down there were sick of the federal mandates and the federal taxes; basically, the federal everything. Entrepreneurs and freedom-loving people from all over America were moving to Texas. The taxes were far lower and the business climate was markedly better than anywhere else in the U.S., especially on the East Coast and California where small business was almost impossible. Texas welcomed businesses.

Crime was astonis.h.i.+ngly lower in Texas, too. That was because Texas gun laws allowed, even encouraged, citizens to carry concealed handguns. Very often, an armed robber would enter a store in Texas only to be stopped by armed customers and store clerks. The same was true of burglars breaking into homes. Killing one burglar led to dozens of fewer crimes that burglar would have committed. It also led to fewer people who wanted to be burglars.

How did the progressives in the North react? By calling the Texans "cowboys" and Texas the "shoot-em-up wild West." They referred to the armed robbers as "victims of gun violence." It was like there two versions of America: Texas and the North.

Southern and western mountain states were moving in varying degrees toward the Texas model because it worked. Northeastern and upper Midwest states and the West Coast (including Was.h.i.+ngton State) were moving toward the Northern model. There was a split, which was widening. Confederate flags started popping up everywhere.

Grant never liked the Confederate flag. He respected Southerners' right to fly it and be proud of the many Southerners who served bravely in the Civil War. He knew that the Union Army and the Federal Government during Reconstruction were not exactly the angels that they had been portrayed as in the history books. He knew that Southerners were not all racists. In fact, Grant knew that most Southern whites were generally fine with minorities because they lived among them. Many Southerners (of all colors) were Christians who believed that people of every race were the children of G.o.d and should be respected as such. Sure, there was still some racism in the South, but it was nothing like the stereotypes of racist Southerners portrayed by the North.

Grant had never known or even heard of a Southerner who thought slavery was a good idea. But the Confederate flag said something nasty to Grant. That symbol had become a symbol of racism. Try as he might, he couldn't get past the negative image he had of that flag.

The yellow Revolutionary War "Don't Tread on Me" flag was far better. Sometimes called the "Gadsden flag," the "Don't Tread on Me" flag communicated the liberty of the Revolutionary War without any of the racial baggage. The Tea Party had successfully adopted "Don't Tread on Me" as its symbol. Of course, the progressive media tried to make "Don't Tread on Me" into the new Confederate flag and imply that only racists flew the Gadsden.

Bill Owens called Grant from Texas during the refugee crisis.

"Things are getting dicey down here, man," Bill said. "Mexican gangs are doing some pretty bold stuff. People are on edge. I've got all my mags loaded. I sleep with my 12 gauge nearby. People are starting to openly carry handguns and even long guns. All people can talk about is how much the Feds suck. If I need to get out of here, can I come up to you?" Bill was an officer in the Texas Guard so he should probably stay in Texas, but it never hurt to have a backup plan.

"Of course, man," Grant said, trying to take in all this news. It's really happening, he thought. "But I think things will be difficult up here, too. Soon," Grant said to Bill. Then they talked about the logistics of keeping in contact and deciding if Bill's family should come up or if the Matsons should come down. Grant kept thinking about what a hard sell he would have with Lisa. "Hey," Grant would have to say to Lisa, "Let's evacuate to the Free Republic of Texas."

"Have you lost your mind?" she would scream. Oh, what fun times they were in.

Grant had one of those moments when he didn't know if he was in the present or the future. Things were happening exactly as he thought they would. Was it happening now or was he seeing the future? He couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both.

"Who were you talking to?" Lisa asked him.

"Oh, Bill in San Antonio," Grant said as if nothing were wrong. "Sandy says *hi.'" Bill's wife and Lisa were friends back when Grant and Bill were in law school.

"Are things OK for them down there?" she asked, in her first mention of the Mexican crisis. She must have seen something on TV about it.

"They're taking some precautions," Grant said casually. "I told them they could come up here if need be," he said, wondering what her reaction would be.

"Sure. If they want to," Lisa said. To her, the issue was a visit with old friends instead of people fleeing chaos and violence.

Bill and Sandy fleeing Texas wasn't a visit with old friends to Grant. It was proof that a collapse was happening. Grant wondered if he was overreacting.

Chapter 34.

People Get What They Deserve Grant was driving to work and listening to the radio. At the top of the hour, the news came on. As interested as he was in the California and Mexican crises, he was actually getting a little tired of all the 24/7 coverage of it. He was having crisis fatigue.

He was hardly paying attention to the radio news announcer when she said nonchalantly, "The nation's credit rating has been lowered again. Moodys and Standard and Poors, which rate stocks and bonds, have lowered the U.S. bond rating ..." blah, blah, blah. The U.S. Government's bond rating had been lowered earlier from AAA to AA. This was yet another downgrade, now from AA to A.

The radio news went on, "Experts predict that Uncle Sam's cost of borrowing money will go up yet again. In other news ..." This meant that Moody and Standard and Poors were telling investors that buying bonds from the U.S., loaning money to the U.S. for it to spend on unsustainable social programs, was no longer a safe investment. Grant knew what this meant. Collapse.

The bond rating was a really big deal. It meant that investors, like the Chinese, would be even more reluctant to keep propping up the U.S. Government by buying U.S. bonds, which is, in effect, loaning money to the U.S. Government. It had always been only a matter of time until the Chinese came to this conclusion, but it looked like that day had arrived.

"Today," Grant said to himself. This was it. The lowering of the bond rating would mean a sell-off of U.S. bonds. The question was whether it would be instantaneous or dragged out for some time. The Federal Reserve would create more fake money with a few keyboard clicks to buy the bonds. This meant trillions of fresh dollars would flood into the system. Inflation would go up. Way up; the only question was how high. Would it be 1970s inflation of 10% or 1990s Russian inflation of 300%? Somewhere in between? Even 10% would be devastating.

The lower bond rating had another devastating effect on the economy. The U.S. would need to raise the interest it paid on its bonds much, much higher to entice investors. Interest on the bonds had always been a percent or two. Now it might be 5%, 10%, or higher.

This meant the U.S. had to pay more (in inflated, made-up dollars) to borrow money. This added fuel to the inflation fire. It also meant the amount of interest people in the U.S. paid would go way up. Many private loans for houses and other things were based on the U.S. bond interest rate; when it went up, so did interest on mortgages, credit cards, and everything else. This alone would grind the economy to a halt.

The stock market crashed about five minutes after the announcement of the second bond downgrade. The downgrade, coupled with the fact that the U.S. Government had basically lost control of its Southern border, led to a ma.s.sive sell off. The stock market went down 900 points before trading was suspended. Gold went up 50% in about ten minutes. People were in a full panic.

Grant had long ago written off his 401(k). He knew those investments would be worthless; he just wished that Lisa had realized it. Right then, in those few moments after Grant heard the news on the radio, a good chunk of the Matsons' life savings had just been wiped out. Exactly like he knew it would. It was weird. His reaction was a big, fat "I told you so" instead of the horror of losing his life savings. He had known this was coming with such certainty that he had long ago gotten over the anger at potentially losing his savings.

Grant kept telling himself not to gloat. Telling Lisa "I told you so" would only make her more angry. He needed her to view him as resource, not an enemy. He would be asking her to do things she didn't want to do in the next few hours, days, and months. He needed her on his team. Besides, being a d.i.c.k and saying, "I told you so" wouldn't get their money back.

There was that warm joy again. He had food, a secure place out in the country, guns, and a network of trusted people with skills. They would probably be fine. At least, compared to others. The rest of the country wouldn't be, but a few people like him would be.

Besides - here came that rush of the warm joy - this had to happen. Things couldn't keep going on like they had been. Grant didn't want all the bad things to happen to the mostly innocent people out there, but he knew that it was the only way things would change. Those people had their chance over and over again to stop living like they were. To stop taking the easy way out. To stop looking the other way as other people's rights were taken away. To stop spending money they didn't have.

Grant thought about the people who sat back and let all this happen. Grant tried to explain to them what would happen, but they wouldn't listen. They thought he and others warning of a collapse were crazy.

"People get what they deserve," Grant finally said out loud in the car. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he couldn't deny his sentiment.

It was time to activate the preparation plans. He had already developed two basic plans: one for an immediate crisis like an earthquake, and another for things that would take a few days, or even weeks, to fully unfold. This was a slowly developing crisis.

Given that there was some time to get the final touches put together, there was no need to freak out and start loading guns. That would only scare Lisa and might get him a visit from the Olympia police. No need for that. Stick to the plan, he told himself.

Since he had plenty of supplies out at the cabin, his plan centered on convincing Lisa that they needed to go out there. She wouldn't see any need to go right away. She'd think it was just some dip in the stock market. That happens all the time. Why run off to the countryside over that?

Grant thought about how Lisa would be reacting to this so he could tailor the best approach to fit her concerns. She would not want Grant to overreact; that would be her primary concern. This was no big deal, she would think. The stock market was just having a "correction." It sucked to lose the money, of course, but the stock market would come back. OK, play the hand you've been dealt, Grant thought. Be supportive of her.

Grant thought about Lisa's level of awareness of the situation to decide how to convince her based on that. She did not know how bad things really were. That was probably better for her, given how angrily she reacted to his "doom and gloom." He needed to break it to her slowly; there was no sense overwhelming her.

He called her on her cell phone at work. She answered right away, which wasn't always the case because she worked in the ER.

"Have you heard about the stock market?" he asked.

"No," she said, wondering why he was calling her at work.

"Did it go up?"

He told her what had happened. Not the part about the bond rating being lowered. Not yet, at least. He was in supportive husband mode right now.

"I'm calling to see if there is anything you think we should do right away," he said. "I'm not suggesting we sell all our stocks, which we couldn't do anyway, given that the market has shut down, but just wanted to see how you wanted to approach this together. I'm at work, but can do things like move money around if you need me to."

He was sure that Lisa was relieved that Mr. Gloom and Doom, who had said a few years ago that this would happen, wasn't saying "I told you so" or freaking out about buying gold now when the price was so high. He knew that she appreciated that he wanted to work together to determine whether to move money around various funds instead of preaching at her.

"No," Lisa said, "I can't think of anything we need to do. It will work out."

"See you tonight at home, dear," Grant said, being the supportive and non-overreacting husband that he was.

Grant got into his car and proceeded to "overreact." He went out to invest in something as valuable as gold; actually, something more valuable than gold. He headed to Cash n' Carry.

He wasn't the only one who had the idea to go to Cash n' Carry. The parking lot was full, but it wasn't a mob scene. It was just a busy shopping day. Most of the world was still oblivious, unaware of what was likely to happen. They were going about their day wondering who would win whatever stupid reality show they watched that night. Grant hated to have such elitist thoughts - he had always thought of himself as a regular guy, a country boy - but he couldn't help but think how much of the population was utterly stupid about all of this. He hated thinking it, but the evidence supported that conclusion. For example, the Cash n' Carry parking lot was not full after all of this news.

It was an interesting cross section of humanity at Cash n' Carry. Some people, like Grant, were well dressed professionals. There were older, middle-aged, and younger people. Lots of kids in tow. Lots of immigrants. It seemed that many immigrants owned restaurants and got their supplies at Cash n' Carry. There were also what appeared to be members of religious sects. Some of the women there, who had about a zillion kids, donned bonnets and wore dresses straight out of the old West. They looked like the people rescued from a polygamist compound or Amish sect that had permission to drive cars to Cash n' Carry. Grant didn't know what religion they were, but they definitely were not the average suburbanites.

All the preppers in the store a.s.sumed they were the only ones in a panic stocking up on food. They didn't want to tip off the others about what they were up to. They were trying to leave the impression that it was just another shopping errand, but they weren't acting like it. They had big carts and were throwing fifty pound bags of rice and beans in them without thinking. They didn't have shopping lists.

Neither did Grant. He knew what he needed. He would get more of the foods that met his criteria of requiring only water to cook or being ready to eat, storing for long periods of time, being cheap, and being liked by his family. More pancake mix, pasta, biscuit mix, mashed potato mix, peanut b.u.t.ter, canned fruit, beans, rice, drink mix, and gravy mix.

People were strangely silent in the checkout line. They weren't looking at each other's carts. They just stared ahead, not wanting to pry into other people's business. They were trying to buy all that food anonymously and a.s.sumed everyone else was, too. It was like they were buying something embarra.s.sing like lingerie. Grant chuckled to himself. Buying food before everyone else figured out that they should do the same was something to be embarra.s.sed about?

As the name implied, Cash n' Carry only accepted cash and didn't provide help out. That kept costs down. Grant had $320 in the expense-check envelope. He breathed a sigh of relief. Having cash on hand at all times was one of the reasons he kept the cash in the car. Sure, it could get stolen in his car, but it was worth the risk to have a few hundred dollars available when circ.u.mstances called for it.

Grant's bill came to $295. He had about three months of basic food for his family for that amount. Grant paid his cash and loaded his bounty in the car.

He stuffed the trunk and the back seat. He wished he had a pickup truck, but Lisa would have flipped out. Oh well, play the hand you're dealt. Instead of getting mad about not having a pickup truck, have a plan and execute it; go to Cash n' Carry when the stock market crashes, load up your food, and take it to your cabin. He was doing far better than a man with a pickup truck who didn't have a plan.

It was 10:00 a.m. on Wednesday as Grant headed out to the cabin. He thought about what average people were doing right then. They were at their white-collar jobs shuffling paper (actually, trading emails). They would be oblivious to all that was happening. They would eat lunch that came from just-in-time-inventory and had been taken to the store by a semi-truck. They would drive home in cars using gasoline that was also delivered by big trucks.

When they got home, they might turn on the network news that would mention something about some bonds and that FEMA was working hard to help the refugees. They would eat more just-in-time- inventoried food for dinner, probably way more than they needed to eat. They would watch reality shows on TV or surf the internet. They would fall asleep in a safe neighborhood because there was someone to answer any 911 call that might come in.

In a few days, they would hear on the news that "Tea Party" people were upset about some bond rating thing. Quite a few of them would dismiss whatever it was that the "teabaggers" were mad at because they were just ignorant racists. Then they would go about their lives like they always had.

Grant kept driving to the cabin. It was a beautiful drive. The farther away he got from Olympia, the more beautiful it got. The water. The trees. The little farms in Pierce Point. It was a different world than Gra.s.shopperville that he just left. "Gra.s.shooper" referred to the story of the ant and the gra.s.shopper. In the story, the ant works hard all summer gathering food while the gra.s.shopper played; in the winter, the ant is fine, but the gra.s.shopper dies. "Gra.s.shopper" became a term for those who goof off and don't prepare for the inevitable bad times.

Although he trusted his neighbors, the Colsons and Morrells, Grant looked around to make sure they wouldn't see him unload all his food into the storage shed. The Colsons did not appear to be home. The Morrells' truck and car were there, but they weren't stirring.

Stealth time. Grant quietly and quickly unloaded the food into the shed. He wouldn't bother vacuum sealing it now; he just had to get it into the shed. He thought he would be using this food in the next few months, weeks, or even days.

Grant didn't have any rats or other threats to his food in the shed, but he put on his mental list the need to get more thick plastic tubs for the food. He remembered that he had a new, and extremely tough, plastic garbage can in the bas.e.m.e.nt that had never been used. It would be perfect. It stored a tremendous amount of the food; the only thing that didn't fit was the fifty-pound bags of rice and beans.

Grant was in and out of the cabin in ten minutes. He zoomed back to his office. They might start missing him soon. He had a taping of Rebel Radio in a little while and he might be late.

He actually felt guilty about skipping work for the Cash n' Carry run - for about one second. That was that d.a.m.ned normalcy bias striking. Even a committed survivalist like Grant suffered from bouts of normalcy bias. He laughed to himself and thought about how utterly stupid it was to worry about taking a couple hours off for this. He went to work to earn money to provide for his family. By going to Cash n' Carry and getting about three months of food, Grant was providing for his family, which was the ultimate purpose of working.

Normalcy bias was like fear in combat: It was OK to have it, but not OK to be paralyzed by it.

Driving back to Olympia, Grant kept looking for signs that others were preparing like him. He looked for a full parking lot at the grocery store on the way; it wasn't full. He looked for a full parking lot at the bank because surely people would want to withdraw cash right now; the parking lot looked normal. He was listening to the news station on the car radio. No mention of the bond rating. Lots of talk about the 900 point stock market drop. But, with rea.s.suring comparisons to previous dips in the market. The message from the radio seemed to be: "Nothing to see here. Move along. Go back to work and keep putting your money into the stock market. Lots of good buying opportunities now. Gold? That's what crazy people buy."

Grant's cell phone rang. It was Bill Owens.

"Holy c.r.a.p, did you hear about the bond rating?" Bill said. "I thought the Mexican refugee thing was big, but this is huge. How are things up there?"

Grant talked for a while about how no one up in Was.h.i.+ngton State seemed to be fazed by this. He talked about Lisa's non-reaction. It was time to have "the conversation" with Bill.

"Hey, Bill," Grant said, "you know that if you ever need to bug out of Texas you can come up here, but can you keep a secret? I mean a not-even-tell-your-wife secret?"

"Sure," Bill said. "Did you kill a hitchhiker or something?"

They laughed. "Something like that," Grant said. He went on to describe his cabin and the food and guns there.

Bill sounded relieved at Grant's revelation. "Not surprised a bit, Grant. I've been doing the same thing for a couple of years. Sandy is on board. I can store the food in the garage. She's cool with the guns.

I was just about to tell you about my preps and invite you down here." "Preps?" Bill had used a survivalist term. Interesting.

"Bill, did you just say *preps'?" Grant asked.

"Yeah, it's a term for disaster preparations we use down here," Bill said. "Lots of people in my neighborhood have been stocking up on things for the past year or two. Now we're glad we did. At first we tried to hide it from each other but now we don't. We work together here in the neighborhood. When the Mexicans started flooding in, it was obvious to us that we needed to do things to be more self-reliant. We have plans to secure the neighborhood if this s.h.i.+t continues, and it probably will. I feel sorry for those poor Mexicans and I would take in a family, but the government needs to control this. You should see what crime is here. Sandy has stopped going into work. So have I. I was going in for a while and carrying a gun. Now it's too risky to leave the house."