The real money would be in the guns and ammo. Jake had chosen his weapons carefully for their versatility. No single firearm could be counted on to do every job, plus he had to limit the cartridges to what was readily stocked in most places that sold ammo. If he needed to go scrounging for bullets, it would be better to look for.22 LR ammunition, by far the most common in the world.
For hunting small game, Jake had a Ruger 10/22 with a ten-round rotary magazine. The recoil and noise were minimal, making it a good gun for Andy to shoot as well. Newer shooters, afraid of noise and kickback, often developed bad habits such as poor shooting posture and flinching when firing a higher-caliber weapon. Jake had recently added an AK-47 to his arsenal. The AK-47 shot a 7.62x39mm round, and Jake would use that gun for hunting larger game as well as defense. When the collapse came, he’d need to be able to fight force with force.
The long guns had better velocity and a longer sighting radius, but they were not always practical to carry, which was why Jake had pistols down here as well. The SIG SAUER he kept at home, but here Jake’s Glock 19 served him well. It was a reliable gun, and the 9mm round was a popular choice, useful to have on hand when bartering with others who survived the coming collapse. Jake also had a Smith & Wesson.22 LR rimfire pistol, with a ten-round capacity, and a Ruger LC9 in his arsenal. The Ruger was an easily carried backup pistol, and at one pound fully loaded could be worn day and night without second thought.
For mobility, Jake used a Condor H-Harness chest rig with a battle belt. He could carry plenty of mags on the move. If he had to, Jake could slip a mag into his back pocket, just in case. Even though he had refinished the rifles using Cerakote H-Series materials finish, Jake still stocked plenty of RIG (rust-inhibitive grease), and he maintained his guns with the same thoroughness as he rotated his inventory.
If the larder went, though, the guns would go, too. Jake knew he couldn’t keep a window to this part of his life open even a sliver. Just like with baseball, it would be too tempting to open it all the way and climb right back in.
The brown rice shifted and made a rhythmic sound as Jake stood. He walked to the back of the larder, where a thick metal door opened into a smaller adjacent room. Jake flicked the light switch and made a quick inspection of his fuel and power supplies. The storage room, half the size of the larder, locked from the inside and doubled as a safe room, but Jake wouldn’t want to stay in there for long. He had a stockpile of rechargeable batteries for various electronic devices, including his communication equipment, and rechargers for each type. Two solar-powered rechargers would serve as backup, should the electricity go out. The underground tunnels and many of the rooms were wired to run off the school’s generator; and if the grid went down, Jake had a fuel-transfer pump to keep that generator humming. The pump ran off a 12v motor that could siphon ten gallons of gas per minute. He could get gas from abandoned cars, or even dig up a tank at a gas station if necessary.
In here, Jake kept his water-treatment filtration system, medical supplies, and bags of seed. How could he let it all go? Laura showing up the way she did was another reminder that uncertainty was life’s only certainty. Since seeing her, Jake had thought of little else. Every detail of the encounter had been etched upon his mind. How could he still have feelings for her? It was illogical, nonsensical, and yet undeniable.
A thought struck him. Was it really Laura he wanted, or just the idea of Laura? Was his bug-out location a way for Jake to cling to a time in his life when he felt most secure? Was all this planning and prepping just a means to find a safe haven after all his losses? Displacement, Andy had called it. All these years, Jake simply accepted what he did without truly understanding where the behavior came from.
He wondered if now was the right time to step off the path. Maybe Laura was like a cool breeze, telling Jake it was time to close that window to his past once and for all. He knew Ellie well enough to know she’d never embrace his ways. It was foolish for him to think otherwise. Perhaps letting go of Laura, Jake could find it in himself to dismantle his bug-out location. The possibility intrigued him.
Andy had gotten Jake thinking. He’d achieved that much with the promise he’d extracted.
Laura had been in town only a couple of days, and the urge to see her felt sometimes overpowering. They had met for coffee the day after her arrival and enjoyed a pleasant conversation, albeit one tinged with sadness. Jake didn’t offer any details about Andy because his son should have the prerogative to choose what information to share. What he did talk about was his life after she had left, and she of hers, but for the most part the conversation didn’t dip below surface level.
Either way, Jake would see Laura again, but first Andy had to meet his mother. Jake had offered to be there, but Andy wanted to confront her on his own. Confused as Jake was, he could only imagine how his son was processing everything. Jake had tried to get Andy to open up, but that conversation had gone nowhere. Jake only knew that Andy and Laura were going out to a late lunch.
Poor kid. His head must be spinning, unsure what to feel.
Jake snagged the clipboard he kept tacked to the wall, thinking he’d do some work on the inventory, when he heard the fire alarm. Usually, the alarms were nothing and Jake was inclined to ignore them, but he had a Uniden scanner and figured he might as well check. Sometimes he turned on the scanner while he worked, and would smile when he heard Ellie’s voice.
The Winston PD was already preset. With a push of a button, Jake dialed the scanner to that channel. Between bursts of static, Jake listened to the chatter.
“How many ambulances can you get there?” The male voice was professionally calm.
“We got three en route, but I’m looking for more.”
“There is a big team from Clean Air here. They’re going to help with the evac.”
Jake’s head began buzzing. What were they talking about?
“Buses are already at Pepperell Academy. We can load them and move out quickly. We’ll take them to the regional high school.”
“I’m not smelling the ammonia.” This was a new voice. The people communicating knew each other, but Jake didn’t know any of them. What ammonia? Ambulances? Buses? What the hell is going on?
Jake shut off the radio and raced for the tunnel. Something big was happening at the school. Like any father would feel, his concern was for his son.
CHAPTER 18
The upper hallway of the Terry Science Center was jammed with kids making an orderly exit. Andy was somewhere in the middle of the pack. Students shielded their ears from the piercing alarm while blinking strobes cast everything in a light of urgency. Is this a drill or the real thing? Andy overheard someone say something about a shooter, but he looked and saw it was that kid who was always talking trash. This was probably just another drill. With the recent rash of school shootings, they had drills every few weeks, or so it seemed.
Andy was walking behind Beth MacDonald. It was impossible to ignore the sway of her hips. Some girls wore the uniform especially well, and nobody could rock a pleated skirt and red cardigan like Beth MacDonald. Andy was completely inexperienced in the ways of women, and he had no idea how to make something happen with Beth that didn’t involve a quadratic equation.
As it happened, Lydia Dyer said something funny, which made Beth throw her head back with a hearty laugh. Of course Andy noticed everything about the moment-the perfect lines of Beth’s arched back and neck, her dancer’s physique, the swoosh of her long ponytail sliding from shoulder to shoulder, the sweet timbre of her voice. For a fleeting instant, Beth unwittingly helped Andy forget about his troubles.