“Always up for a good conspiracy theory, I first got curious about EMPs when a new customer had an odd request. I was asked if he could have a hole dug 30 feet deep, 100 feet long, and 60 feet wide. When asked what it was for, the customer replied, ‘Why, the end of the world, of course!’ Although it was out of the norm for the company I worked for, I oversaw the completed job and buried eight 20-foot shipping containers in the oversized hole.
“The customer was thrilled with the work and had me as a guest several times on his popular conservative national podcast. The podcaster was forthcoming with his audience in regard to costs, plans and project completion time estimates, although he would not divulge the location of his own bunker.
“I was hailed as the authority on bunker construction and was soon able to leverage myself as a consultant and middle man, working with multiple contractors at the same time, all building end-of-the-world shelters.
“My claim to fame was known as the ‘Fiver.’ This was a five-story, entirely underground community of bunkers, housing 36 families. Every unit presold for $450,000 to over $1,000,000, and they were located near the small town of Farmington, New Mexico. It’s only about 380 miles from here.
“Several more projects of varying design were commissioned over the next year, prompting me to take a closer look at EMPs, and not long after that I purchased land on Raton Pass and brought an out-of-state crew in to build my formidable compound.
“Eventually moving to Raton Pass and working from home as a TEOTWAWKI (The end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it) construction consultant, I stockpiled my home with food, water, firearms, and of course raw coffee beans. I had everything I could ever want. Everything, that is, except someone to share it all with,” he concluded, squeezing Tammy’s hand and smiling.
“Okay, Vlad,” said Mel. “My turn. How did a guy from Russia end up with a gun store in Texas?”
“Mine is a short story,” Vlad replied. “It started at home in Mother Russia as a young boy. I grew up in the picturesque town of Sortavala in northern Russia, near the border of Finland. Known for its outdoor adventures, as a young man I helped my father with the family business.
“We owned and rented rowboats and canoes to tour the numerous waterways around the town. When I was only 16, I met my wife-to-be, Rosa, when she arrived with her church mission group from Plano, Texas. Meeting her the second night when she rented a canoe, I was sure that she was the one. My brothers laughed at me and told me it could never be. With Rosa leaving for home two weeks later, we kept in touch, writing letters nearly every week.
“At 19 years old, I had saved enough money to visit my Rosa and to meet her parents. Her father was concerned about her dating a boy from across the world, but they grew to like my tales of working with my father in the family business.
“Rosa’s mother adored me; of course, how could she not?! And her father helped me get my visa, and finally citizenship.
“Years later, Rosa’s parents would sign over their 20-year business, Plano Guns, to us both. The gun store changed its name to Beluga Guns following the passing of my sweet Rosa. I longed for the day I would return to country life. Eventually, I would get my chance when Lonnie, Lance, and these guys,” he said, pointing to Jake and Mike, “showed up at my shop, which was already surrounded by looters, and offered me a chance for a new life, but only if I gave up everything. That is why I am here today.
“Now please excuse me,” Vlad said, “so I don’t miss the Colonel’s call.”
* * * *
Jim had the Colonel on the line ten minutes later.
“How are you all holding up?” asked the Colonel.
“Best as we can so far, sir. I’m concerned for our group—the women and children, I mean,” replied Vlad.
“I can understand that, with the lead group headed your way,” continued the Colonel. “What’s your defense plan if they show up on your doorstep?”
“With all due respect, sir, I’m not sure I want that out on the airwaves.”
“No worries there. We’re secure, and you may be the only civilian left in this great country to have a backer like me,” commented the Colonel.
“I’m sure you are correct, sir. We will defend them at the most likely breach points across the river and hope it’s enough.”
“We’ve got them in your area in two days’ time,” added the Colonel. “I’m on the West Coast for the next day or two, but I’ll make a trip up to Trinidad right about that time, just in case you all get into any real trouble you can’t handle alone.”
“I do appreciate that. We all do. How do I repay you, sir? I mean, I already gave you my leg!”
“Now there’s the Vlad I was missing,” said the Colonel, laughing deeply. “I’ll have my people keep a close eye on the situation up there, and if it gets bad, just dig in and cover.”
“Yes, sir, we will do just that, and thank you for the Beluga.”
“He’s offline,” said Mark, feeling nervous about what lay ahead.
* * * *
Vlad relayed the Colonel’s call to the adults, calming a few nerves initially.
“We will be digging foxholes by the river this afternoon and tomorrow morning,” called out David. “The ground is soft by the river, and each trench will hold one or two shooters, so it’s not too difficult of a task if we all pitch in. Each person will be equally supplied with ammo, and
