“I’ll give up my root beer when they pry the last can from my cold, dead fingers,” Jake teased.
“Jake,” Karin said, the smile on her face replaced by an expression of concern and even a hint of fear. “Where is all this going? What is going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know, Karin. God help us, I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“What did you want to hear?”
“I wanted to hear you say that everything will be all right.”
Jake was quiet for a moment; then he sighed. “Karin, for us—for you and me—everything will be alright. But there is no way the country is going to get through this without serious, serious consequences.”
“How can you say then, that it will be alright for you and me?”
“Because I will make it alright for you and me,” Jake said. “That is a promise.”
“Get the drinks, let’s eat,” Karin said, wanting to change the subject.
“How about root beer?” Jake suggested as he started toward the refrigerator.
“Root beer? I don’t know, let me think about it. Ummm, yes, I think I would like a root beer.”
Jake brought the drinks into the living room and put the cold cans on coasters on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Did you fly today?” Karin asked as she handed a hamburger and fries to Jake.
“Nobody flew today,” Jake answered as he unwrapped his burger. “I haven’t flown in two weeks. We are limited to one thousand hours per month, and as of now there are only six hours remaining in this month’s flight- hour pool. You know how many rated aviators we have on this post?”
“A lot,” Karin replied.
“We had almost a thousand before the influx of troops from overseas, and that added at least two hundred more. That means there are twelve hundred pilots who are now in queue for six hours. That breaks down to eighteen seconds of flight time apiece.”
Karin laughed, spewing root beer as she did so. She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“It’s not funny,” Jake said. “If aviators can’t keep up their minimums, aircraft are going to start falling out of the sky because the pilots aren’t going to be safe.”
“I know it’s not really funny, Jake,” Karin said. She laughed again. “But I’m just picturing someone getting into a helicopter for eighteen seconds.” She hopped up from the couch. “I’m flying,” she said. She plopped back down on the couch. “Oops, time is up.”
“It’s not funny, damn it,” Jake said, but despite himself, he laughed as well.
“I’m going to turn on TV,” Karin said. “Kentucky is playing LSU tonight.”
“What do you care? You’re not running cross-country for Kentucky anymore,” Jake said. “And as far as I know, you are no longer a cheerleader.”
“You think I’m not?” Karin replied. Getting up from the couch and standing flat-footed on the floor, she did a backflip, tucking in her legs at the top of the flip because she went so high that her feet would have hit the ceiling. Landing on her feet, she thrust her pelvis forward and held her arms over her head.
“Now, imagine me in my cheerleader outfit,” she said.
“You’re making me blush. Be nice now,” Jake said.
“Are you sure you want me to be nice?” Karin asked, seductively.
“Maybe not that nice,” Jake answered, pulling her to him for an open-mouthed kiss.
Bob Varney, chief warrant officer–4, United States Army retired, got a cookie and a cup of coffee from the welcome counter at the bank, then had a seat until he could speak to one of the bank officers.
“Bob?” Joel Dempster called, sticking his head out of his office.
Having finished both his cookie and the coffee, Bob dropped the paper cup into a trash can, then went into Joel’s office.
“I read
“Within a month. It’s
“Don’t know if I’ll be able to get there, but I’ll for sure buy it.”
“Thanks.”
“I think Hollywood should make a movie of one of your books.”
“From your lips to God’s ear,” Bob said.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Joel asked.
“I was just wondering. I went online to check my account; I didn’t see the deposit for my Army retirement.”
“Yes, I thought that might be why you were here. If it is any consolation to you, it isn’t just you, Bob. There was no deposit for anyone. We got a notice from DFAS that all transactions are being halted while they undergo reorganization.”
“Wow. Really? Everyone?”
“Everyone. You are lucky. With your writing you have another income, a good income, I might add. But as you know there are a lot of military retirees here. And many, if not most of them, depend entirely upon their military retirement and Social Security.”
“I didn’t even check for Social Security.”
“Don’t bother, there was no deposit for it, either.”
“That’s not good,” Bob said.
“I’ll tell you something else that isn’t good. We have been ordered to submit a report to the federal government providing information on the amount of money every depositor has in all accounts.”
“Are you going to do that? Do they have the authority to make you do it?”
“As long as we participate in the FDIC program, we have no choice but to comply.”
“Maybe I should take out what I’ve got in there,” Bob said.
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“You just deposited a royalty check earlier this week, didn’t you? A rather substantial check?”
“Yes, it was for signing four contracts, and delivery and acceptance of a completed book. A little over forty thousand dollars.”
“At this point any withdrawal, or check, in excess of ten thousand dollars, must be approved by the federal government.”
“Why?”
“I’m sure you have noticed that the economy is a little shaky now, and is getting worse almost by the day. I think this is to prevent a run on the banks.”
“Is the money safe?”
“It is as safe as money is safe,” Joel said. “The problem is, how secure is the American dollar? I’ve been hearing things through the grapevine that make me wonder.”
“Now you are getting me scared,” Bob said. “First you say there are no retirement or Social Security payments, then you say I can’t get the money I do have out of the bank. Joel, what the hell is going on?”
“I wish I could tell you, Bob, I really do. I’ve talked to all the other bankers; we are very worried about this. Banks are only as good as the service they are able to provide to their depositors. When you start breaking that trust, then you are putting into jeopardy a bank’s ability to function. If I were you, and I’m cutting my own throat by telling you this, but if I were you, I would withdraw nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. As long as you don’t go to ten thousand dollars on any one transaction, you are safe.”
“Thanks, Joel, I guess that’s the route I’ll take.”
“Then come back tomorrow and do it again, keep doing it until your account has just a few cents in it.”
“I appreciate you telling me that, Joel,” Bob said. “I’ll do that too.”
“Just write the check here, I’ll cash it. There’s no sense in causing anyone to get curious. And, if you would, be careful about who you tell this to.”
