Countdown to Armageddon Read online

  But he wasn’t finished yet. Inside the massive compound, at exactly the halfway point, he ran another fence line. This one would be a standard wooden privacy fence, six feet tall, to split the compound in half. It would separate the livestock pens and chicken coop from the front half of the compound, mainly as a means of providing a comfortable living area that didn’t smell like a stockyard.

  It would also provide growing space for a quarter acre garden that would be free of wandering cattle, pigs and chickens.

  It was in this front half of the compound that Scott staked out places for four concrete pads. Each pad was about the size of a two car garage. The first three pads would be the new homes of Butler buildings, which were prefabricated barnlike structures that could be delivered and installed in a single afternoon.

  In one barn Scott would fabricate a huge Faraday cage, which would protect everything inside it. Once done, he’d fill it full of vehicles, equipment, electronic items, and luxury items, such as televisions and microwaves and such. Basically everything a normal house could plug into the wall or drive to and from someplace else.

  Another barn would hold food stores, like bulk corn stored in 55 gallon drums or rice and flour in fifty pound sacks. It would double as Scott’s tool shed.

  The third barn would hold feed for the livestock. Hay for the horses and field corn for the pigs, initially. Later, when they started growing their own feed, it would hold wheat or sorghum.

  The fourth pad was unique. The size and shape of a two car garage, only the outside three feet of the floor would be concrete. The interior of the floor would be bare ground, and once poured it would resemble a bizarre type of square donut.

  It was on this pad that Scott would build his greenhouse.

  Scott had decided early on that he wanted to provide his family members with a wide variety of fruits and vegetables after they were sealed off from the rest of the world.

  Some fruits and vegetables would grow very well in the higher altitude and cooler air of the Kerrville mountains. He planned an orchard of apple, peach and pecan trees northwest of the compound, near the fishing pond.

  However, there were some things that required warmer temperatures.

  That’s where the greenhouse came in. Once the donut hole was poured, Scott’s plans were to use an excavator to dig out four feet or so of earth from the center of the hole. He’d truck in enough prime topsoil to replace it, and then build a greenhouse around it.

  Once the greenhouse was built, he’d be able to grow citrus inside the building, even when there was snow on the ground in the wintertime.

  He’d planned to plant orange, lemon and avocado trees in the center of the greenhouse. Along the outside perimeter he’d have a series of planter boxes where he could grow grapes and various types of berries in the winter months. They might be isolated from the rest of the world, but they’d still eat fairly well.

  Scott went to his workroom and retrieved a hundred foot cloth tape on a large reel, with a hand crank on the side. He took it back to where he’d started this project several hours before. To the first wooden stake he’d hammered into the ground at the southwest corner of the house.

  He tacked the end of the tape measure to the front of the stake and reeled it out along the twine he’d laid out earlier. And every ten feet, all the way around the fence line, he sprayed an “x” on the ground in fluorescent orange spray paint.

  By the time he finished, the sun was sinking low in the western sky. His back was breaking, and his feet hurt.

  But he felt good. He felt he’d accomplished more on this one day than he had in a long time. And when he stepped back twenty yards and used his imagination, he could finally envision what his compound would eventually look like.

  He sat in his pickup truck and cranked the engine. With the cool air washing over his sweaty face and Taylor Swift serenading him softly in the background, he picked up his cell phone and called his friend at Alamo Cement.

  “Hey, Rob, how are you doing?”

  “Very good, Scott. You got any projects going on?”

  “Not me, personally, no. But that friend I told you about does. The one who’s building some kind of church summer camp up around Kerrville. She’s ready for some portable building slabs and a boatload of fence post anchors, if she can get it for a good price.”

  “How much we talking?”

  “About seventy yards.”

  “Okay. That’ll be worth the trip. Let me crunch some numbers and I’ll get back with you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Talk to you then.”

  Scott hung up his phone, cranked up his CD, and sang “Fifteen” along with Taylor Swift as he pulled out of the drive and headed back to San Antonio.

  She didn’t need his help.

  -14-

  As summer stretched into fall, everything seemed to be slowly falling into place. Then Scott had a nightmare one night at the end of September. He dreamed that the blackout happened, and he was nowhere near ready. He hadn’t even built his Faraday cages yet, and all his vehicles and equipment were ruined. The blackout happened in the middle of the night, none of his vehicles would work, and he, Linda and the boys had to hike seventy miles over the course of two weeks to get to the unfinished compound. Their mom bitched and moaned every step of the way.

  Scott had woken up that night in a cold sweat.

  But looking back, his nightmare had actually been a good thing. It reminded him that he didn’t know when the EMPs were coming. And that he needed to do a better job of prioritizing his tasks, so that the most important things got done first. That would minimize the problems if he was caught off guard.

  After his fence posts were set and the slabs poured for his outbuildings, he had the Butler buildings delivered. It took him a solid week of screwing sheet metal to the interior walls, ceiling and floor of one building, followed by a layer of thick plywood. But when he was finished, it was a secure place that was large enough to hold a lot of equipment.

  Inside the Faraday Barn he placed a brand new Ford pickup that he leased for one of his rental units, two leased Gators, another used tractor he’d picked up on the internet, and a wide array of household appliances and electronics. Also included were a wide assortment of vehicle parts and batteries. Not only would these vehicles survive the blackout, but he’d be able to keep them running for decades.

  He also built a similar Faraday Barn in his back yard in north San Antonio, but on a smaller scale. This one was built inside an oversized tool shed. It was just big enough to hold two all wheel drive Gators, a case of flashlight batteries and several pairs of night vision goggles. If the blackout happened while they were in San Antonio, these would be their escape vehicles.

  Another thing the nightmare pointed out to him was that he was moving at a snail’s pace. Every time he finished a project, two more cropped up to replace it. He and Joyce had been trying to do most of the construction work themselves, and they were wearing themselves too thin.

  Scott Harter was a hard headed man. But he was also a realist. And he realized that as much as he’d like to do everything himself, or with Joyce’s help, it just couldn’t be done.

  So the day after his nightmare, he contracted out for two things: the installation of a ham radio antenna, and a builder to install his greenhouse for him. His logic was that if the blackout occurred next month, everything else could be done after they assembled in the compound. That wouldn’t be the most ideal of circumstances, but it would be acceptable.

  The greenhouse and the radio antenna, on the other hand, were essential. The greenhouse would help ensure their comfort in the years ahead. The antenna would help ensure their security.

  Joyce finished clearing out the pit, and plowed up the deeper layer of dirt. Then she began raking the rocks out of it, just as Scott had showed her. She was quite an asset, and he knew it. He told her constantly how important she was to him. Her response was always the same: “I know it, cowboy. And you’d better not forget
it.”

  Scott went back to building his fence. The posts had been placed before the concrete was poured, and now stood as a long line of lonely sentinels around the property. He used a portable welding rig that he dragged around with a Gator as he went from post to post to post and welded one inch square boxed steel, three pieces to each post.

  It was a long process. He figured it would take two months of long workdays just to get the crosspieces on. And he was already tired of the grind.

  He’d never win any awards for his welding talents. His beads were rough and sloppy. But they were strong, and that’s what counted.

  The panels had already been delivered and were stacked in twenty piles on the ground just outside the fence line. They weren’t made for fences. They were panels for steel roofing. But they were perfect for Scott’s needs. Ten feet long and corrugated, they would fit together easily. They were guaranteed by the manufacturer not to rust for thirty years. Not that that mattered much to Scott. The manufacturer’s guarantee wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans once the power went out around the world and the manufacturer was out of business.

  But Scott’s logic was sound. If these panels would last for thirty years lying flat, with occasional standing water from rainstorms, then they’d likely last several times that standing up.

  He was about a month into his fence project when Jordan came to him and asked if he could get a job.

  “Why?”

  “Oh, you know, Dad. A guy needs money for taking his girl out and stuff. You weren’t always so old. You remember. Or did they have girls when you were a kid?”

  Zachary chimed in from the couch, “Oh, they had girls. They just didn’t have cars back then, so Dad had to ride his brontosaurus when he took a girl out.”

  Scott enjoyed the harassment his sons gave him. He’d been a smartass all his life, and the apples hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

  “What kind of job are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Flipping burgers probably. Or making tacos at the Burrito Hut. There aren’t a lot of jobs for high school kids.”

  “What kind of money do those jobs pay?”

  “Crappy money. Minimum wage. seven bucks an hour. But like I said, that’s all there is.”

  “Maybe not. There are jobs out there that pay a lot better than that, if you’re willing to work hard.”

  “You know I work hard, Dad. Shoot, I do all the yard work without even being asked. And you know I’ve always helped you out clearing out those storage lockers when people abandoned them. What kind of jobs are you talking about?”

  “Working for me. For pay this time. Not just because you’re a good son.”

  Jordan raised a wary eyebrow.

  “Doing what, exactly?”

  “I need help building a fence up at the compound. It’s not difficult. But it’s very labor intensive, and very monotonous. Just putting metal panels up, drilling holes through them, and then screwing them into place.”

  Jordan saw that his Dad was serious. It was negotiation time.

  “That sounds like a thirty dollar an hour job. With benefits.”

  Scott laughed.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay you twenty. And I’ll give you a ride to and from work every Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Are you serious? Twenty bucks an hour? Deal!”

  Zachary had been listening in from his vantage point on the couch.

  “Hey, how come he gets all the good stuff and I never do?”

  “I’ll tell you what, Zach. He’s gonna need a helper. If you’re willing to help him, I’ll pay you fifteen dollars an hour.”

  “How come he gets twenty and I only get fifteen?”

  “Bosses always get paid more than workers.”

  “He’ll be my boss?”

  “Yep. But being a boss isn’t always so fun. Whenever y’all screw up, I won’t yell at you. I’ll yell at him instead. And you can watch.”

  “Deal.”

  And so it was that Scott found two willing laborers to help him finish that damned fence, which had been becoming a thorn in his side.

  “Wait a minute, Dad. What about Mom? We normally go over there on the weekends.”

  “I’ll talk to your mom about it. She’s been saying that she misses cooking for you guys and helping you with your homework. I’ll make a deal with her. Jordan, you can drive your car over there every afternoon instead of coming home. You can do your homework and have dinner there.

  “Zach, I’ll go by your school tomorrow and change your bus arrangements. You can take a different bus to your mom’s house.”

  “Do you think Mom will be okay with it?”

  “Sure she will. She knows she can come up to the compound any time on the weekends to help if she wants to. So she can still hang with you on the weekends if she wants. But she’ll get more weekday time with you now. And it’ll help me out because I can work up there longer during the week without having to come home to cook for you guys. I can stay a couple extra hours and pick you up at your mom’s around ten or so.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

  -15-

  The following Saturday morning, Scott and the boys pulled into the compound. It was the boys’ first time there, and they were in awe.

  “Wow, Dad. It’s huge!”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty good size. It’ll have to be, to have everything we need to survive.”

  “How long do you think we’ll have to stay up here?”

  “I don’t know, son. At least until the world is civilized and safe again. And maybe they find a way to get the power grids up and running again, and start repairing the vehicles and electronics. I doubt if it’ll happen before you’re old and gray.”

  Zachary said, “But Dad, if we’re up here, how are we ever gonna meet chicks?”

  It was something Scott had never thought of. He’d just assumed that the boys would raise families of their own, and they would continue life in the compound after Scott had passed on. Zach’s question was a valid one, and one for which he had no answer.

  “I don’t know, Zach. Maybe after we get settled in and the world adjusts to the changes, we can venture out and meet some of the neighbors. Maybe they’ll have some hot chicks who are just itching to meet some good lookin’ dudes.”

  Jordan commented dryly, “First of all, Dad, I don’t think anyone has used the word ‘dudes’ since the seventies. And second, I’d settle for even an average chick. I’m a teenage boy, remember? With the raging hormones and all that stuff?”

  “Where did you hear about raging hormones?”

  “In sex education.”

  “Did they teach you about abstinence?”

  “Sure, but I never thought I’d actually have to do it.”

  Zachary asked, “What’s abstinence?”

  “That’s when you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh. Like now.”

  “Exactly.”

  Joyce stepped out of the Bobcat and walked over to the truck as the guys were getting out of it.

  “So these are the boys I’ve heard so much about.”

  Scott introduced them.

  “This is Jordan, my oldest. And Zachary, my youngest. Boys, this is Joyce.”

  They shook hands, and Jordan said, “Dad told us you’re going to be living up here with us. Do you have any teenaged daughters?”

  Joyce laughed a bit nervously and said, “No, I’m afraid not. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”

  Scott looked at Joyce and asked, “You tired of raking rocks yet?”

  “You’re behind the times, cowboy. I finished raking all the rocks two days ago. Now I’m putting all the soil back in the pit. I should be done with that in three or four days.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed. I always did love fast women.”

  Everyone except Scott and Zachary rolled their eyes. Scott because he thought he was being clever, and Zach because he didn’t understand the term. />
  “So you’ll be ready for another project in three or four days?”

  “Nope. I didn’t say that. I said I’d be finished with this one in three or four days. Then I’m taking a few days off before I start something else. I’ve earned it from getting saddle sores from that damn tractor.”

  Scott couldn’t argue. She’d been working awfully hard, after all.

  “Tell you what. How about next weekend we drive on up to Fredericksburg for some good German food? To celebrate the completion of the field project and the new blisters on the boys’ hands?”

  Jordan and Zach looked at each other.

  “Dad, we don’t have any blisters on our hands.”

  Scott chuckled.

  “Not yet, son. Not yet.”

  Jordan didn’t like the sound of that. But he was going to be paid almost three times what his friends were getting at the burger joint. And he wasn’t afraid of hard work. Never had been. So he was okay with a few blisters.

  Zachary was a trooper. He was okay too.

  “Come on, boys. Let’s get you started.”

  He took them to the tool barn and gave them each a pair of gloves and a tool apron. Each apron had two large pockets in front, and a loop on each side to hold tools.

  He took a large box of sheet metal screws and poured a good amount into three of the four pockets. In the fourth, he put a half dozen quarter inch drill bits.

  “These are hardened steel tipped bits,” he said. They’re made for cutting through steel. But even with these kind of bits, you’ll go through a lot of them. You’ll be drilling hundreds of holes, and you’ll just flat wear them out. Hell, you’ll probably burn up three or four drills too, before we’re finished.”

  He took two cordless drills and three spare batteries and said, “Jordan, grab that ladder and follow me.”