panic. What if he found the root cellar? What if he discovered the fuel tank?
Then I understood, finally, what the rifle was for. That mighty barrel, with its
special range that could reach from the mountain to the valley, was a
defensive perimeter for the house, for our supplies, because Dad said we
would be driving when everyone else was hotfooting it. We would have food,
too, when everyone else was starving, looting. Again I imagined Charles
climbing the hill to our house. But in my imagination I was on the ridge, and
I was watching his approach through crosshairs.
Christmas was sparse that year. We weren’t poor—Mother’s business was
doing well and Dad was still scrapping—but we’d spent everything on
supplies.
Before Christmas, we continued our preparations as if every action, every
minor addition to our stores might make the difference between surviving,
and not; after Christmas, we waited. “When the hour of need arises,” Dad
said, “the time of preparation has passed.”
The days dragged on, and then it was December 31. Dad was calm at
breakfast but under his tranquillity I sensed excitement, and something like
longing. He’d been waiting for so many years, burying guns and stockpiling
food and warning others to do the same. Everyone at church had read the
prophecies; they knew the Days of Abomination were coming. But still
they’d teased Dad, they’d laughed at him. Tonight he would be vindicated.
After dinner, Dad studied Isaiah for hours. At around ten he closed his
Bible and turned on the TV. The television was new. Aunt Angie’s husband
worked for a satellite-TV company, and he’d offered Dad a deal on a
subscription. No one had believed it when Dad said yes, but in retrospect it
was entirely characteristic for my father to move, in the space of a day, from
no TV or radio to full-blown cable. I sometimes wondered if Dad allowed the
television that year, specifically, because he knew it would all disappear on
January 1. Perhaps he did it to give us a little taste of the world, before it was
swept away.
Dad’s favorite program was The Honeymooners, and that night there was a
special, with episodes playing back to back. We watched, waiting for The
End. I checked the clock every few minutes from ten until eleven, then every
few seconds until midnight. Even Dad, who was rarely stirred by anything
outside himself, glanced often at the clock.
11:59.