Constant Fear

CHAPTER 12

Jake bought his 2007 Chevy Tahoe because of the aggressive tires, towing capacity, and ability to traverse most terrains. He didn’t know how he’d get to his bug-out location when TEOTWAWKI (The End of the World as We Know It) came, so the car offered an option if the woods behind his trailer were impassable.

Jake saved all year for the expo. Normally, he would have stocked up on supplies-freeze-dried foods, seed, communication equipment, medical kits, and homeopathic medicine-and the Tahoe was a good way of hauling it all home. But Andy had demanded they leave the expo early. Jake didn’t argue, so the back of the car contained only the camping gear they’d brought and some clothes.

For the first hundred miles of the trip home, Andy had been silent. Jake did his best to coax some words out of his son, but Andy retreated into himself, with his thousand-yard stare fixed firmly on the scenery rolling past his window.

Jake wasn’t angry with Andy. His son’s passion and conviction had impressed him and he’d said as much, but something was still bothering Andy. Whatever it was, he was keeping tight-lipped about it.

They were about an hour outside Winston when Andy finally broke the quiet.

“I’m going to stop, Dad,” Andy said. “I can’t drill anymore. I can’t prep, either. I’m done. And I mean done for good. I’m out.”

Jake took his eyes off the road to give Andy a measured stare. This wasn’t a complete surprise. Jake had felt Andy pulling away for the past year. But something about the way Andy had announced his intentions felt final, nonnegotiable. The words hurt.

Jake bit his tongue to hold back what he really wanted to say. “You’ve got to do what you think is right for you, I guess,” he managed.

If he got angry with Andy, or tried to scare him the way Richard Weismann had tried with his EMP scenario, it would only push his son farther away. But to Jake, this was like hearing his son announce plans to go skating on thin ice. The end of civilization was as real to Jake as if he’d seen an army of advancing soldiers. It was coming; and if they were not prepared, it would level everything in its path-including his son, the most precious person in his life.

“There’s more,” Andy said.

Jake appraised Andy anew. “More than deciding to give up every advantage you can have when the day comes? That’s what the drills are for, son.”

“No. This ‘more’ is about you.”

“Look, no matter what, I’m not going to leave you behind. But you’re going to make it a lot harder than it needs to be. We’re a team here, and if you don’t drill, your skills will rust. You know that, don’t you?”

“I want your skills to rust, Dad,” Andy said.

Jake jerked the wheel. The car veered a little to the left, but he quickly recovered the steering.

“Last I checked, I was the parent here and you were the kid. I can tell you what to do, but it doesn’t work the other way around.” Jake did a poor job of tempering the anger in his voice.

Andy retreated to his view out the window. When he turned around again, his face was red and he was on the verge of tears. Jake knew from experience how difficult it could be to confront a parent. Andy’s emotions had welled up, and they needed a place to escape.

“You know, Dad, just because you think the world is going to end, it doesn’t mean that I do. I’m tired of living your fear. It’s yours, not mine. Don’t you get that?”

“It’s not science fiction. It’s all proven fact.”

“Maybe so, but I happen to think the world is going to be just fine,” Andy said in a tone he’d never used before with his father. “I don’t think there’s going to be an EMP attack, or a solar flare, or a super volcano, or a biological agent, or freaking all-out nuclear war. It’s not going to happen in my lifetime. If it does, fine, but I don’t want to live like it is, because it’s not normal.”

“We are not abnormal,” Jake protested. “We’re prepared. There’s a difference.”

“Growing up, I had more gas masks than toys,” Andy said. “That’s not normal, Dad. Not by a long shot.”

They had just driven over a hilly rise. On the descent, the Tahoe picked up speed, going eighty-five before Jake noticed. He eased up on the accelerator.

“This is about Pepperell Academy, isn’t it?”

“No, Dad, it’s not.”

“It’s your friends, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“I bet it’s Hilary. Are you two dating? Because sometimes love can skew your thinking.”

“No, Dad. We’re not dating. And Hilary didn’t put me up to this. Neither did David, Rafa, Pixie, or Solomon. They know I can hold my own in a fight, but they think it’s because I took karate lessons. I don’t talk about us, because I’m honestly embarrassed by it.”

“You’re embarrassed?” Jake said. The shake of his head was meant to show his incredulity. “Were you embarrassed when you kicked Ryan Coventry’s ass all over The Quad?”

Andy shrugged. “That’s different. I’m glad you taught me self-defense. But it’s the reason you’re teaching me that’s got me all bugged out.”

“Damn girls,” Jake muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for Andy to hear.

“Don’t blame Hilary!” Andy snapped. “She’s done nothing to influence me. Nothing. If anything, you should be blaming Mom for making you the way you are.”

Jake sneered and cocked an eyebrow while glancing over at his son.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you became this way because Mom left you.”

Jake looked at the road once more. “You’re psychoanalyzing your dad now, is that it?”

Andy folded his arms across his chest. The posture was part defensive and part frustrated. “It’s not that hard,” Andy said. “I took Psych 101 with Professor Cooper.”

Andy exchanged looks with his dad and unfolded his arms when he saw the hint of a smile.

“Okay, boy genius,” Jake said, but in a challenging way. “You think you know me so well? Go for it. Analyze me.”

Andy shook his head. “You’re baiting me. You’re just going to get mad.”

“I’m not going to get mad. I’m being honest here. If you think you know me so well, go for it. Analyze me. Why do I prep?”

Andy didn’t respond.

“I’ll tell you why. Because of all those reasons you listed. EMP, solar flare, bioterrorism-it’s the law of probability. Something major is going to happen, and when it does, we’ll be prepared to deal with it. It’s not complicated.”

“That’s not why, Dad,” Andy said.

“Well, enlighten me.”

“You promise you won’t get mad?”

Jake waited until he passed a car on his left before meeting Andy’s stare.

“I already promised. Analyze away.”

Andy nodded. Game on. “Okay, let’s start with your life after high school,” he began. “You’re a hot prospect for the Boston Red Sox. Then what happens? Instead of going to the majors, your arm gets crushed in an accident.”

“Because I was drinking and driving.” Jake pointed at Andy. “And if I ever catch you doing the same, the only thing you’ll be driving will have pedals and no motor.”

“I don’t even drink.”

“Okay. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Then what happens after the accident? You can’t pitch. The dream is gone.”

“I thought you were going to analyze me. This sounds more like history to me.”

Andy drummed his hands against his thighs. He was enjoying this opportunity. “Give me a chance,” he said. “So after your baseball career comes to a crashing halt, what happens next? You find out your little boy has a serious medical condition. Now you’ve got two things going against you, but there’s a third headed your way. Mom leaves. She can’t take it anymore. She was dreaming of a big ballplayer’s salary and now she has a sick kid and a broken husband.”

Jake lifted his hands off the wheel for just a second. You got me. He wasn’t going to offer any defense. Andy knew his facts, and it was what it was.

“Well, that explains why I believe the EMP threat is real and you don’t,” Jake said sarcastically. “Come on, Andy. What’s your point? Why are you revisiting the past? I’ve always been open with you about Mom and what happened to us.”

“It’s not just about Mom. It’s where all your fear comes from, Dad.”

Jake furrowed his brow. His son was making as much sense as he’d expect from someone who had decided to stop prepping for the inevitable.

“Sorry, I’m not following.”

“Think about it,” Andy said. “One minute your life is headed in one direction and then it takes a U-turn, but not to backtrack. Instead, you’re on these unfamiliar roads, navigating in the dark. Everything that was secure to you is suddenly insecure. In Freudian psychology, it’s known as the displacement theory. It’s the unconscious redirecting of emotions from one thing to another. You lost your sense of security, so you replaced it with prepping. Now you feel secure again. It’s pretty simple when you think about it.”

And Jake did think. He thought a lot, falling silent, gazing out the window, but not really seeing the traffic. Everything Andy had just said hit him square in the heart-right where it counted.

“They taught you all that at school?” Jake said.

“And some.”

“We’re sure getting our money’s worth.”

“It’s free tuition, Dad.”

“Well, aren’t we lucky, then?” Jake held a serious expression, but soon it slipped into a wry grin. Andy relaxed enough to allow the corner of his mouth to lift a little as well. When it did, Jake slugged Andy’s shoulder in a loving, guylike way.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

Andy started to laugh. “Dad, I’ve been trying to tell you this for ages. You just haven’t been listening.”

“That’s not true. I listen to everything you say.”

“No, Dad, you want just to teach me about communication equipment, gardening, and self-defense-which, by the way, is the only thing I really like.”

“It’s not just about what you like to do,” Jake said. “It’s about having the skill set you need to survive.”

“You see? You see? You’re doing it again! You’re not hearing me.”

Jake held up his hands to show he wasn’t going to be defensive. “I’m hearing you! I’m hearing you! So you don’t want to drill anymore?”

“That’s right. No more three A.M. wake-up calls. It’s affecting me in a negative way.”

“Did you learn that in Professor Cooper’s psych class as well?”

Andy chuckled. “No, that’s my own personal observation. If you love me, and I know you do, we’re going to stop being preppers.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“I want you to dismantle the bug-out location,” Andy said.

The mood turned sour in the time it took Jake to change lanes. Jake fell silent for several miles, and Andy let him think.

“You may want to hamper our ability to get out of Dodge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same. Stop the drills if that’s your desire, but the BOL stays. And I’m not going to stop doing what I have to do to protect us.”

Andy pondered the offer; then he extended his hand. “Yeah, I guess it’s a deal, Dad.”

Jake shook on it.

“But I want you to do something for me,” Andy said.

“Anything, but what I said I wouldn’t do.”

“I want you to think about dismantling the bug-out location. I’m not asking you to do it. I’m just asking you to give it some real serious consideration.”

“It’s not happening, son.”

“Just think about it, Dad. That’s all I’m asking.”

Jake gazed out the window and said nothing. Andy gripped his father’s arm.

He’s trying to reach you… Listen to him…

“Please,” Andy pleaded.

Jake saw the desperation in his son’s eyes.

“Yeah, buddy,” he said. “I’ll think it over. Promise.”

The rest of the drive back to Winston was uneventful. They stopped at McDonald’s for a couple of shakes and some burgers, and made excellent time the rest of the way home. Jake kept the conversation light. They talked about music and TV shows, Andy’s classes and college, and Vines that his son found endlessly amusing. Little by little, Jake would goad Andy back into the life. He felt hopeful, because Andy’s decision put them both at risk.

The sun had nearly set when Jake turned onto the dirt road that led to the trailer a quarter mile away. The tough winter had left deep ruts in the road, and Jake imagined making a midnight dash to his bug-out location, driving right over those divots using his truck the way he intended when he bought it.

As Jake pulled into his driveway, the Tahoe’s headlights illuminated the figure of a woman sitting on the stairs at the trailer’s front door. Jake came to an abrupt stop and cut the engine, but he kept the headlights on so he could see the person clearly.

His jaw dropped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

Andy followed his father’s gaze, and his eyes went wide as well.

The woman sitting on the front steps smoking a cigarette didn’t look all that different from her pictures-the pictures in the memory book, the pictures seared into his consciousness. The years hadn’t aged her beyond recognition. Andy knew his mother.

He’d know her anywhere.