299 Days: The Preparation Part 9

"Is that some religious thing?" Grant asked.

Joe laughed. "No, that's *Promise Keepers.'"

Joe explained that Oath Keepers was a large national organization of currently serving and veteran military and law enforcement. The "oath" in Oath Keepers was the oath every military and law enforcement person takes to "uphold and defend the Const.i.tution, against all enemies foreign and domestic."

And domestic. Those words rang in Grant's ears.

Joe, who was former State Patrol SWAT guy, said, "We take a pledge to not enforce ten unconst.i.tutional orders we might receive. Like to round up guns." Joe told Grant about the other nine unconst.i.tutional orders Oath Keepers pledged to not enforce. Things like conducting warrantless searches or detaining Americans as "unlawful enemy combatants."

Wow. This stuff was getting serious. A large national organization of military and law enforcement people pledging to not round up guns. This was not BSing over beers. This was serious.

"What I like about Oath Keepers," Joe said, "is that they're not militia whackos. They don't want to overthrow the government. They want people to honor their oaths. That shouldn't be too controversial."

Joe couldn't figure out how people were putting up with what was happening so he had to ask Grant, who was an Olympia insider. "When are people going to rise up?" Joe asked. "I mean, I'm no radical or anything, but this system isn't working. If they can do this to me," he said referring to the illegal searches and attempts to take away his property, "then they're doing it to millions of other people. What's up? What's going to give?"

Joe stared off at the water surrounding his compound. "I mean, I don't want anything violent to happen. But people will not put up with this much longer."

"It's a numbers game, Joe," Grant said. "Now there are only a few Joe Tantoris or Ed Oleos." Grant told Joe the story about Ed's fight and Ed asking the same question Joe was.

"But every year," Grant continued, "they get more reckless and think they can get away with anything. There are more Joes and Eds each year. It's growing exponentially as they get greedier and more power hungry. They can't stop themselves. So next year there'll be double the numbers of people like you, quadruple the next year, and," Grant did some quick math, "sixteen times the number the year after that. Pretty soon enough people get it."

Grant paused and looked Joe right in the eye. "It's coming, Joe. I don't want it, but I can't see how it's avoidable. The Joes of the world will eventually fight back."

Grant had been thinking a lot lately about how such a collapse would unfold, so he decided to tell Joe what he thought would happen. He hadn't been able to tell anyone else this, but Joe had shared his involvement in Oath Keepers, so Grant would return the trust by telling him what he really thought would happen.

"It will build slowly," Grant said. "It'll take a period of years. First it will be by people like us moving to better states like Texas. Look at how many businesses are fleeing California. Then it will be by cheating on their out-of-control taxes. A Patriot voting block will develop and get stronger each year. Elections will become nasty. They'll try to destroy Patriot candidates. They'll cheat on the vote counting, which is shockingly easy when their people control the machinery of the voter counting. They'll start to charge Patriot candidates and any of them who actually get elected with crimes. *Tax evasion,' probably."

Grant went on, "A tax protest movement will start up where people openly refuse to pay taxes. They won't be able to afford them and the government can't put everyone in jail. Oh, and the government will scare the population with horror stories about *militias.' They'll pa.s.s all kinds of *emergency' laws. The sheeple will be terrified about the *crisis' and rally around the good government who is just trying to protect them."

This was the scariest part for Grant. "Then there will be an event. I have no idea what it might be. It could be real or concocted by them. *Right-wing terror' of some kind. It won't matter if it's real or made up. It will shock everyone. By this time, with all the new *emergency' powers they give themselves, the Patriots will realize that they need to do something now or it will be lost forever. We will. Protests, some turning violent. There will be a.s.sa.s.sinations. I don't condone that, but it will happen. The government will crack down even harder, losing more and more support each time they do. At each of the stages, the economy will get worse and worse until it basically stops functioning."

Grant paused. He didn't want to say what he really thought.

"Then things get ugly."

Joe took it all in. He knew all this was true but he'd never heard another person say it, especially someone who had a front row seat to what was really going on like Grant.

"Yep." That's all Joe needed to say.

Joe felt he could fully trust Grant. Joe knew he had to do something about what was happening. Hopefully he wouldn't have to do anything drastic, but he had to do something. He couldn't let this happen to more people.

"You, my friend," Joe said to Grant, "are welcome back at my range any day. Bring friends."

Joe looked at Grant in the eye again and said, "I'll bring some of mine."

Chapter 20.

A Busy Ant It was spring after another Grant's trip to Joe's facility. Plants were blooming, but not many people felt a joyous springtime rebirth. Most were gloomy. The economy was horrible. Most were very worried about losing their jobs, some had lost them, and everyone knew someone who had. People were scared.

The country had just elected another big-government President.

People were figuring out that he wasn't the "moderate" he said he would be. Plenty of people were afraid of what this new President would do. He seemed to be making the bad economy worse.

While some people were panicking about the economy, Grant was not. In fact, he felt much better than he had just a few months earlier. He had about three months of food in the storage unit and an AR-15 and an AK-47 with plenty of ammo, magazines, and even spare parts. He was starting to develop a network of friends who could help in a crisis. Most importantly, he had the survival mindset.

Grant knew that bad times were coming; he had a plan and some supplies, but most of all he knew that "normal" things would be coming to an end. He was mentally prepared for the ma.s.sive changes - civil unrest, food shortages, personal tragedies - that were likely coming. He did not suffer from normalcy bias, which is when people are confronted with ma.s.sive change, like the grocery stores not having food. They can't accept the new reality. They a.s.sume everything is like it's always been; that things will be "normal." Instead of adjusting to the new situation, they try to shoehorn the old "normal" into the current reality. They might, for example, refuse to believe that the stores don't have food. They might believe outlandish things like one particular store is out of things now but the other stores have plenty. They are so biased by what "normal" used to be that they can't operate in the current situation. It's a combination of denial, wishful thinking, and not knowing how to function in the new situation. Normalcy bias gets people killed. They make terrible decisions when they refuse to believe how bad things are.

Instead of the normalcy bias most people were suffering from, Grant channeled the anxiety of the economy and political climate into action. He added to his food storage. He went to Cash n' Carry and got more beans, rice, spaghetti, and pancake mix. He got lots of sugared drink mix because he knew people would need the calories of sugared mix and because he knew that water might need to be treated with iodine or bleach to purify it and having some flavoring could make it much more drinkable. He started getting a few items during each trip he made to Costco for the regular things his family ate. He got cases of tuna, canned turkey, cans of refried beans, and packets of instant oatmeal.

He got a lot of oatmeal. Oatmeal met all of his criteria for prepping food; it only required hot water, stored forever, was cheap, and his family would eat it. He got eight boxes with fifty-five packets of flavored oatmeal. That was 440 servings. Each box was $9, so that was about $0.16 a serving. He vacuum sealed the oatmeal envelopes. They would last for years and years now that they were sealed.

Another thing Grant stocked up on was spices and flavorings.

Beans and rice get pretty bland after a while. Eating deer and other game meat required some spices. Hot sauce would make all the difference in the world.

The dollar store came to the rescue again. He got big canisters of flavorings and sauces for $1. Soy sauce, barbeque sauce, hot sauce - all $1. He got about a dozen one-pound canisters of table salt. Salt had a million uses and would be an invaluable seasoning, especially for someone sweating a lot. He also got a lot of coffee and tea. He didn't drink much of either, but he knew others would. It was cheap, and nothing is more soothing than a cup of coffee or tea.

It took water to make coffee or tea. More importantly, without water, a person was dead in three days. Grant marveled that some preppers would spend thousands on guns and ammo and neglect water. If the grid goes down, water treatment is something that will fail. Waterborne illness is a real danger.

Grant got a Berkey water filter. It used microscopic pore filters to screen out everything that could hurt a person. Raw sewage could be converted into drinkable water. It cost about as much as a case of cheap ammo. What a bargain.

Grant was also stockpiling medicines. He learned on the Survival Podcast forum how to make some great first aid kits. Not the Band Aid kind of kits. These were medium-duty trauma kits. Grant also bought many over-the-counter medicines. He had hay fever so he purchased several thousand non-drowsy allergy pills from Costco for next to nothing. They would last years as they didn't have an expiration date. Grant also got hundreds of caffeine pills. He and his colleagues might need to be awake a lot.

Grant got tons of vitamins, too. He went to Costco and got a few 500-pill multi-vitamin bottles and vacuum sealed their contents. A multi vitamin a day could keep the doctor away.

Since little cuts could easily kill people when there were no hospitals or pharmacies, Grant realized that he really needed some antibiotics. But he couldn't get them over the counter, and forging one of Lisa's prescription pads seemed like an extremely bad idea. What to do?

Grant learned on the Survival Podcast about fish antibiotics. They were the same as human ones, except they said "Not for human use" on them for legal reasons. The antibiotics were used to treat diseased aquarium fish. They were available without a prescription, at a tiny fraction of the price, and could be stored for years in a cool place. Even when they expired, they were still safe, though they might lose some of their potency.

Grant looked this up on the Survival Podcast forum and found out dosing instructions for humans. He discovered several great internet sites for ordering them. For about $60, Grant had enough perfectly good antibiotics to treat a dozen differing infections. He printed out the dosing instructions and vacuum sealed them with the antibiotics. What a life saver.

Now Grant had enough food and medicine for about six months in his storage unit. There was only one hitch; he had to get from his house to the storage unit to get them.

He figured a crisis probably wouldn't unfold instantly; he would have at least a few hours to get there and load all the stuff. However, loading the stuff might be a problem. There was only one of him and no one else knew about the stash. Lisa, who was a foot shorter than him and very pet.i.te, could not lift the big tubs. Oh well, no plan is perfect. Having all those supplies about two miles from his house was much better than not having anything.

Grant started wishing he had a place to put the food, a place far from the city where things would be safer. A "bug out location" or "BOL" as they were called in the prepper community. A BOL would be great, but he didn't have a fortune lying around.

Chapter 21.

The Cabin Miracle Grant's mom was calling. That was weird. She never called.

"Hi, Mom," Grant said. He had decided long ago to be civil and respectful with his parents. He didn't have to like them and he didn't have to visit them, but he did have an obligation to treat them as normally as possible. He wasn't a hater.

"Grant, the city is taking the homestead parcel," she said. The homestead parcel was his Grandpa's land in Oklahoma. It was not the ranch Grant would visit as a boy, but was a forty-acre parcel of land granted to Grant's great grandfather in 1904 as an Indian allotment. It was next to the ranch and was where Grandpa's brothers and sisters grew up in the 1920s. The homestead parcel was now owned by Grant's mom and her siblings. The homestead had enormous meaning to Grandpa and Mom and others in the family. It was sitting in what was now suburban Tulsa. It was worth a fortune, but the family did not want to sell it.

Grant asked his mom about the details. The city was using good old eminent domain to get the land for a song and then would probably sell it to developers and make lots of money to fund city government. It was an outrage, but as Grant explained the law to his mom, there was nothing they could do about it except to get as much money as possible for the land.

That's what happened. When all the legal stuff was over, Grant's mom would receive her portion of the proceeds, about $250,000.

She said to Grant, "The accountant told me that we have to spend the money on real estate within the next two years or we get taxed on it."

Great. The government takes your land and will then tax you on the "capital gain" of your "windfall" which is actually the forced sale of your land to them. But, on the bright side, it meant that Grant's mom had to buy some real estate soon or have a good chunk of it taxed away.

That's when it just came to him. A cabin. It was brilliant. That's what he could do. Get a cabin. It would be about the same amount as the inheritance. In that moment, Grant wasn't thinking about how the cabin would fit into his preps. He was just thinking about how he had always wanted a cabin.

In college, Grant spent a lot of time at his friend, Jeff Kozan's, cabin near Seattle. He absolutely loved it there. It was on the salt.w.a.ter on an inlet to Puget Sound. He could not describe why he loved it so much there. It was away from the city. It was quiet. Every single time he went there he had a great time.

One time, Grant, still the poor kid from Forks struggling through college, told Jeff, "Someday I'll have a cabin like this. Not sure how, but I will." Even back then in college, when it seemed impossible to actually have a cabin later, Grant knew - knew - he would have one. It was now that time. Grant could have a cabin.

"What should I do?"Mom asked.

"Buy some real estate," Grant said. "I want to get a cabin nearby, on the water. Something simple but something that the kids can grow up in and have great memories of." Grant then started to realize how a cabin would be the perfect bug out location. A place to go when a crisis. .h.i.ts. A place to store food and other supplies. A place to hunt and garden when food was scarce. A place to be safe.

He went on to describe to his mom the things he sought in a bug out location. He wasn't telling his mom about the survival uses for the place; she didn't need to know what he was doing. She was too old to travel there from Forks, anyway.

A bug out location needed to be away from the city, but not totally out in the boonies. This would allow Grant and his family to get out of a city in a crisis, but there would be enough people around the bug out location to help him protect it and to trade with. He wanted a place on the water; salt.w.a.ter, preferably. Olympia was right on the Puget Sound so there were hundreds of inlets and coves on the salt.w.a.ter. Salt.w.a.ter had clams and oysters and plenty of fish and a person could connect by boat to anywhere else in the area. A lake didn't allow that. And mosquitoes didn't live in salt.w.a.ter.

The past few years, on occasion, Grant would drive around some of the salt.w.a.ter cabin areas near Olympia and dream about owning one just like Jeff Kozan's cabin in college. Grant had some nearby areas in mind. He described them to his mom. He wanted a place that was an hour or less from his house so he'd actually go there often - like every weekend.

This is really happening, he thought. He knew - absolutely knew - that this "cabin" was going to be more than a place to have family barbeques in the summer. He was simultaneously amazed that this was happening, while at the same time he was calmly planning it out. It was the future and the present all at once. There was that feeling again; the future and present at the same time. Intertwined. Happening at the same time.

Grant's mom said she could take a portion of the proceeds of the eminent domain proceeds and give it to Grant.

When the conversation was over, Grant said goodbye to his mom. He felt a little guilty taking the money because the homestead meant so much to her. But, Grant didn't decide to sell it and she'd be taxed on the money, so the guilt quickly dissipated.

Grant told Lisa the great news. She didn't seem so happy. It was pretty obvious that she didn't like the idea of Grant's idiotic family that had been so cruel to him, suddenly giving him something so substantial. Besides, Lisa and Grant had worked extremely hard for so long and had built amazing careers and they couldn't afford a cabin. Now Grant's family was just handing one to him.

In addition, a "cabin" was not Lisa's cup of tea. It meant a second set of bills, a second set of maintenance, and a second set of all the c.r.a.p that comes with owning a house. And Grant wasn't exactly good at doing anything around their real house, although he was getting much better.

"I'm not doing c.r.a.p out there," she said. "No laundry, not paying the bills, nothing," she said. Her response wasn't exactly the joy of getting a free cabin he had expected.

"OK," Grant said. It was very clear to him that his years of being a suburban slug were now catching up with him. She had a good point. He quickly said, "I'll do everything out there." He knew that sounded like a kid saying they'll feed the stray dog, while the parent knows they won't.

Grant knew how to get Lisa to warm up to the idea. He told Manda about it. She was instantly excited. Jump-up-and-down excited. She thought of the endless possibilities of sleepovers with her friends. Having a cabin was a big boost in the popularity standings. Cole was not too interested. It was hard to describe to him with words what a "cabin" was.

Grant and Manda spent that summer searching for cabins. During the evenings, they would get on the internet and look at listings. They would prioritize them and then make a list of places to go see that weekend.

Grant had never seen Manda, who had turned fourteen, so organized about anything. He was used to having to tell her over and over again to put her dishes in the dishwasher and do her homework. But, now she was presenting him with stacks of color-coded and prioritized real estate listings with the prices highlighted. When she cared about something, she could be very organized.

That summer, they drove all over the area, even out a few hours from Olympia. Cabin shopping was magnificent. Grant and Manda were having a great time, and they were bonding.

They came across some incredible properties. The real estate market was in the tank. Prices had fallen enormously. It was the perfect time to have money to spend on real estate.

The first place they looked at in person was a cabin on Harstine Island. It was an hour and half drive from Olympia, which was longer than they wanted. But it was on Harstine Island, which was just a twenty-minute boat ride from Olympia. They drove out there and the first thing Grant noticed was that Harstine Island had a bridge providing the sole land access to the island. That could be a big plus since it would be easy to defend. But, if it were taken or destroyed, residents of the island would be in bad shape.

Harstine Island had a mix of full-time residents and part-time cabin owners. It was beautiful there. There were lots of water views and the big evergreen trees Washington State was famous for. It was very secluded.

The Harstine cabin was nice. Located on a small hill overlooking the beach, the cabin was modest, but very cozy. It was on two acres with a st.u.r.dy out building that would house a boat, truck, and tons of other equipment. It had a huge clearing that would be perfect for gardening. There were a few apple trees; perfect for having food year after year without having to plant anything. The layout was easily defendable because the driveway was rather steep and would require anyone coming up it to expose themselves to the many hiding places along the driveway. It was a perfect bug out location; a comfortable place to live, with plenty of gardening s.p.a.ce, an out building for equipment, and defensible.

There was no access to the beach, though. They would need to rely on friendly neighbors. Grant a.s.sumed he could find them. Grant and Manda asked Lisa and Cole to come and see if they liked it. Grant a.s.sumed Lisa would love it.

She didn't. "How do we get to the beach?" she asked.

"Friendly neighbors," Grant answered.

"I don't want a beach house with no guaranteed beach," she said.

Grant was furious, although he knew she had a point. Oh well, they would need to find another place. Harstine Island was off the list.

He and Manda went back to the drawing board. Manda found another very promising cabin on the internet. Grant saw the picture of it and knew that this was the one. So did Manda. They drove out to it one gloriously sunny Sat.u.r.day. There was nothing more beautiful than the Puget Sound on a sunny day. The mountains in the background. The inlets and the sound. Huge evergreen trees everywhere. Beautiful.

This cabin seemed to be perfect on paper. It was about forty minutes from Olympia. It was out in the country, but not so far out that it felt like a park. It didn't have a ritzy "resort" feel.

The development it was in was Pierce Point, which consisted of a group of about 500 lots. Not all of the lots had anything on them. "Development" wasn't the best word to describe it because that usually meant a new subdivision.

Pierce Point wasn't new. It was a combination of middle cla.s.s homes and cabins that were nice, but not too extravagant. The middle cla.s.s homes were on the way in to the place. The cabins started popping up closer to the water. Some were very nice; most were small houses on the water. There were some lots with RVs on them. There were a few junky homes, but this was a rural area and not everyone had tons of money. Most of the homes were well kept. They looked like working families lived there. Most driveways had pickups. Quite a few yards had playground equipment for kids. It looked like Forks, but nicer. There was quite a healthy mix of middle income working family homes and nice cabins.

The cabin they were looking at was on the very northern tip of the development. They went down the road towards the water. Big evergreen trees were all over but there were fewer down by the water. It was a rural, forested area down by the sea. It was perfect.

RVs on lots started to be replaced by cabins. Many were more aptly called "beach houses." The paved road ended with a sign that said "County road ends." Perfect. That was exactly what Grant wanted. A good paved road leading most of the way there and then a little county gravel road leading to seclusion. Perfect.

The gravel road was only a few hundred feet. The water on the left was beautiful. Grant saw the cabin they were looking for.

It was perfect.

It didn't look like a regular house. It was more like an A-frame cabin, but not tiny like a cabin. It looked like a typical Washington State beach house. The trees on both sides of the cabin provided a "mountain cabin" feel and then the water view offered a "water cabin" feel.

When they drove up, Grant looked at Manda and said, "This is it. This is the one." She nodded with a huge smile. Even at age fourteen she knew this was perfect.

They knocked and the owner was there. She was in her forties and looked like the mom of teenagers. Almost instantly, the owner liked the Matsons. She could see that her beloved cabin would be put to good use by a family of people who would have similar good memories made out there. Then she said something unusual to Grant.

"I need to sell this," she said. "I just got divorced, my job is looking like it's in trouble, and my ex-husband lost his job last year. We need the money. We'll sell this for a very fair price."

Grant couldn't believe it. The place was perfect and available for a song. He felt bad for the owner, but knew she needed to sell.

She gave him the tour. The outside of the cabin had a huge deck that looked out over the water. The view was amazing. The body of water was Simpson inlet, a finger of salt water about half a mile wide. The land on the other side was forested.