Tipping Point

Journal Entry: Tuesday, March 27th, 2018

Alan Scott

“Tipping point.” Without warning, our debit and credit cards

stopped working, and banks had to close their doors because they did not have enough money to back their accounts. Our local grocers were out of food in less than a week, and without credit, they didn’t have the means to replenish them. Due to the interruption of “just-in-time logistics,” in no time flat, our old neighborhoods would be full of hungry, dangerous people. It was no wonder that the sheriff did not return as promised. It was almost a week before he returned again, but he was not with a large group of deputies. He had five families: his and four other deputies’. He was held at the gate until I arrived. I called out to the sheriff, asking him to approach the gate.

He did so with his gun out, the handle pointed at us. He was surrendering his weapon. I walked out, armed only with my 9, and hoped that he wouldn’t kill me. I stopped just short as he did the same. He gave me his gun, then took off his badge and gave that to me as well.

As I recall, it went something like this…

“We’ve lost the cities,” he said, then hung his head and asked,

“Can… we join you?”

I was not happy to see the defeat in his eyes. It meant that there were a lot of angry people doing so many awful things to each other, and we were way too close to it all.

I asked, “What of the Guard or the military?”

He responded, “The Guard is all but overwhelmed, and most have deserted to take care of their families.” He paused. “As for the military, we have been petitioning the federal government for months, and they just keep quoting regulations to not interfere with local affairs.”

“So they are of little to no help.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“It’s worse than that,” the sheriff said angrily. “They have been pulling out for months.” He shook his head again. “They have secured the base. Nothing’s been in or out in months.”

“What of the Navy?” My head was swimming.

“From what I understand, Everett is gone, Bremerton is shut down, and I doubt Bangor is left either,” the sheriff said, trying to keep a calm voice.

“State Patrol?” I was going through all the possible resources that could be used to keep order.

“They were few and far between before it got bad,” the sheriff said in a low voice. The look on the sheriff ’s face said it all: “We were alone.”

“How many deputies do you have that you can trust?” I asked.

“About five; one is with me.” The sheriff ’s voice was gaining some

confidence.

I got right to the point: “Are you willing to recognize our council as the leadership that you and your family members will follow, even die for?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

I gave him back his gun. “You will need this, Sheriff.” I turned. “Mike! Open up! We have some new members.”

The sheriff added, “I have some trucks coming this way with what was left of our armory. We will have bulletproof vests, night vision goggles, infrared CRSs, and more than two dozen AR-15s with more ammunition than you could count.”

Mike had joined us. “We can count real high.” He winked at the sheriff. “What about food?”

The sheriff responded, “I cleaned out the contingency food bank. We will have a tractor-trailer almost full of MREs and some freeze-dried crap that has been in that room for the better part of ten years.”

Mike asked, “So that is where the other four deputies are?” so as to imply some type of deception.

The sheriff was not stupid. “Mike, if you have something to say,

say it.”

Mike adjusted himself and lifted his head. “Just a few days ago, you wanted to tear down this wall . . . now you want to hide behind it?”

The sheriff said, “Yes, I want to hide behind it. I’m a lawman; I swore to uphold the . . . law, despite what I felt about it.” He paused.

“Now, there is no law, not out there.” He pointed north.

“How can your trucks get here without help?” I asked.

The sheriff said, “They have help.”

“Who?” Now I was focused; who was coming?

The sheriff looked a little nervous. “Three of the deputies have

grown kids who are bringing the assault truck.”

“It might have been good if you had told us that at the beginning.” I turned to Mike. “Get on the horn; let the advanced team know that a convoy of sheriff vehicles is headed our way and that they are not to engage it.”

Mike looked concerned. “How do you know this isn’t a trick?”

“Jeez, Mike, his wife and kids are standing at our gate. Do you think he’d allow a firefight with them in the middle?”

Mike conceded, “Shit, I sure hope you’re right.”

“Me too, but we can tip the odds in our favor,” I said as I walked to the barricade with the radio to my mouth. “Alpha one. Do you have a visual on some trucks?”

The radio responded, “Just worked their way past 176th.” There was a pause. “These guys are badass! They have a guy in a turret on the first vehicle.” Another pause. “And two guys in the back truck with guns, big guns.”

I turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff, I need you to put your families in front of the gate.” I was going to be sure that this would not be our last stand.

The sheriff looked at me in some disbelief, but then the look changed to understanding. He turned and waved to the two vehicles. “Get out and come stand by the gates.”

Read the Full Chapter in Graham Heights