Neighbors

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual names, persons, businesses, and incidents is strictly coincidental. Locations are used only in the general sense and do not represent the real place in actuality.

NEIGHBORS

By

JERRY D. YOUNG

Creative Texts Edition

Copyright 2015

By JERRY D. YOUNG

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published by

CREATIVE TEXTS PUBLISHERS

BARTO, PA

www.creativetexts.com

COVER PHOTO USED BY LICENSE

CREDIT: Daniel A. Edwards

CHAPTER ONE

Hank Smith was a prepper. But he was a prepper with a problem. He lived on a cul-de-sac road, which was good. The bad part of it was it was on a hill. This would normally be good but in this case it put him in full view of the approach to the cul-de-sac and of most of his neighbors.
Pretty much nothing went on in the small neighborhood that didn’t get noticed by the neighbors. It was common knowledge that he had a large garden. It was terraced on the slope from his front door to the cul-de-sac circle drive. And his PV solar panels were right there on the south-facing roof, which faced the road, too. Everyone knew he had them. The shallow well with hand pump and gas engine garden pump was also in plain sight.
And his regular hauls of firewood didn’t go unnoticed. The smoke from his chimney was easily visible. At least several of the neighbors also had wood fireplaces.
Most of his prep supplies, fortunately, had been brought in using the Suburban and unloaded in the garage with the door down. But now, Hank wanted to make some more improvements to his preps. A greenhouse with rabbit hutches and fish tanks, decent CBRNE shelter, a generator, and large fuel tanks.
Now, the shelter would be either in the basement or a freestanding one in the backyard, where the greenhouse would be. Ditto the fuel tanks, a large diesel fuel tank, small gasoline tank, and a one-thousand gallon propane tank in addition to the five-hundred gallon tank he now had. The generator needed to go on the west side of the house.
Then there were the blackberry brambles he was already planting around the sides and back perimeter of his property. The fourth side, the front side facing the street, would soon have a nice, relatively unobtrusive metal security fence.
Hank was sure no one would object to his improvements. The problem was the fact that they knew at all. It didn’t take much imagination to foresee where the neighbors would head for in a serious emergency, Hank’s place. Hank needed to do something to get the community prepared for some of the things he was preparing for, so they wouldn’t depend on his visible resources to take care of them.
It was some time before he came up with the idea. It was sparked by a chat conversation at one of the Prepper Forums of which he was a member. The idea of a Neighborhood Watch was brought up and Hank had a sudden insight. What about a Neighborhood CERT organization? Not necessarily affiliated with the National CERT organization, but just a small, local, neighborhood version.
Hank thought some more about the idea. He needed something that people would be concerned enough about to take some steps to protect themselves from, or otherwise prepare for. The area was actually not too prone to disasters. Which was good. Except there was no obvious need for the Neighborhood Action Team.
But then, in the news, came a good opportunity. Bird flu was in the news again. Hank sat down at his computer later the night he saw the news program and wrote a short letter asking for volunteers to set up a quarantine for the cul-de-sac, in case the bird flu, or other dangers, threatened the safety of the neighborhood residents.
The ‘or other dangers’ was the key to eventually getting people aware of, and willing to prepare for, some of the things Hank was. So Hank went door to door, leaving the letters on house doorsteps. He wanted just a bit of shock value, that being the fact that he’d been able to just walk up to everyone’s front door to deliver the letters.
He’d asked for a meeting of his cul-de-sac neighbors in the nearest of the development’s small community centers. He went ahead and booked the meeting room, and crossed his fingers.
On the appointed day and at the appointed time, Hank was in the meeting room, preparing a pot of coffee and some other refreshments he paid for out of his pocket. At ten minutes after seven, Hank was getting discouraged. No one had shown up yet.
But that changed quickly. Half a dozen of his neighbors came walking in together, already chatting about the letter. Making sure to introduce himself to those he didn’t know, and re-introducing himself to those he was only on a nodding of the head basis with, Hank went around the room, encouraging everyone to get a cup of coffee or tea, or a cold drink.
Finally he called everyone to attention and asked them to be seated. Never a very good public speaker, Hank hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally got down to business. “Now that you all are aware of who I am, I wanted to thank you for coming. And to tell you I’m scared. Scared of the bird flu that was in the news a few days ago.
“The report stated that there would be quarantines. I’m worried about that. How do we keep potentially infected people out, and get out to get food?”
There was some murmuring and then Pete Gladstone raised his hand and began to speak. “We actually have it pretty easy in the cul-de-sac. Just block the entrance here on Carson Street and people couldn’t get in without traipsing all the way around and going through the woods. And with the ravines… well… that would be difficult.”
“But who would do it? And what about food for that long of a time?” Hank asked.
Rather tentatively Elizabeth Montoya raised her hand. She waited until Hank nodded at her before she spoke. “Juan and I keep a good pantry. But it’s only good for a couple of weeks. What would we do if we couldn’t go out before the food ran out?”
“Just buy more,” said Fred Cummings. “I usually pick up something at the store on the way home, but Hank has a point. I think I’ll buy some extra… Though… more than a couple of weeks…”
“That’s a lot of food just sitting around.” That came from Bren Jackson. “I do okay, but buying up food that might just spoil before it’s needed is expensive.”
“What about a food bank for the neighborhood?” Hank asked then. He’d been waiting for the time to suggest it.
“A food bank?” asked another of the neighbors. “We’re not some group of hardship cases that need a community food bank to make it.” He sounded rather angry at the suggestion. Of course, Henry Block always sounded angry.
“Just for emergencies,” Hank replied. “Like if someone didn’t make it to the store before the quarantine was started. Maybe add some of those masks that are being recommended, too.”
“Yeah. What if we decide to do this and whoever is keeping this food bank decides to keep it for themselves?” Again an angry sounding Henry questioned the idea.
“You wouldn’t do that,” Hank said. “I doubt any of the others would, either.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Henry almost shouted. “But…” He looked around, but didn’t continue.
“Well, if you are so high and mighty,” Elizabeth said, “you should be the one to keep it.”
“Hey, now! I’m not…” Henry’s protests fell on deaf ears as several of the others agreed with Elizabeth.
“I vote for Henry to keep the food bank!”
“Henry is the Man!”
“Way to go, Henry!”
Henry frowned, and growled a bit, but sat back in his chair without any further protest. He’d keep the food bank.
“Well, what should we give to the food bank,” Bren asked. “I know what I like, but others might not like it.”
“I think any good, shelf stable food… Canned goods, Mac & Cheese, rice, beans, stuff like that. And the masks,” Hank said quickly. “Things you eat normally. You might be the one that needs a bit to tide them over.”
There was some murmuring amongst spouses and those sitting close to one another.
First to declare themselves was Bren. “Okay. I’m in.” He turned to Henry. “I’ll bring over a box of stuff next time the wife and I go shopping.”
Henry nodded. The others began to follow suit.
Hank was pleased. He decided not to press his luck on expanding the role of the team. “How about we get together next month and see how things look. Maybe talk to some of the others that aren’t here to see if they’d like to participate.”
People started to get up, nodding or voicing their agreement. With the group gone, Hank turned to begin clearing the coffee and other things. It didn’t take long and he went out to the Suburban and went the short distance home, thinking that the plan was off to a decent start.
And it was. Better than Hank had hoped. Henry called him three days later complaining about the amount of things people were dropping off. There were many paper sacks, as well as plastic ones, and a variety of sizes of boxes.
And Henry questioned why Hank hadn’t brought anything over, especially since it was Hank’s idea in the first place.
“I haven’t been shopping since the meeting,” Hank quickly replied. “I’ll be by tomorrow with some things.”
The thought that he wouldn’t need to add anything to the stockpile was obviously a bad one. He was going to have to contribute at least some, to make things look good. So Hank made a special stop at Wal-Mart, a place he usually avoided. It occurred to Hank that he really needed to keep Henry, the hard sell, on his good side. Stopping to look at some of the plastic storage containers, he was disappointed in the selection. Not of sizes or quantities. They had dozens of different sizes and plenty of them. But of quality.
Hank was a heavy-duty kind of guy. He wanted heavy-duty totes. He happened to cut through one of the automotive aisles and came to a quick stop when he saw the Rubbermaid brand Action Packers. They were available in eight gallon, twenty-four gallon, thirty-five gallon, and forty-eight gallon sizes.
After thinking about it a bit, Hank rejected the eight-gallon as too small, and the thirty-five gallon and forty-eight gallon containers as too large and heavy to move when loaded. He took all the twenty-four gallon Action Packers the store had. A total of six.
He dropped the containers and the food and household items off at Henry’s that afternoon. Henry was pleasantly pleased with the totes. They stacked neatly in his basement and stored a lot of stuff in a relatively small space. Hank helped Henry transfer the goods from the various bags and cardboard boxes the others had dropped off to the totes.
“Toilet paper?” Henry asked when Hank brought in a large multi-pack from the Suburban. It was the last item. Henry shrugged and set it on top of the totes. “I hope everyone remembers what they brought, ‘cause I sure don’t have a clue anymore.”
“I don’t really think it matters much,” Hank said carefully. “This is kind of for anyone that needs it, not necessarily the person that brought something specific. The things I brought are certainly that way.”
“Including the toilet paper?” Henry asked with a grin.
“Even the toilet paper,” Hank replied, pleased that Henry was taking this so well. “Thanks for storing the stuff for us, Henry. I don’t think the group could have picked a better person for it.”
Henry actually blushed slightly under his tan. “Well… I do try to do my part. This is a good neighborhood. I want to keep it that way.”
“Me, too,” Hank said with feeling. Henry walked Hank out to the Suburban and watched him drive away.
The month passed, without incident. There were more people at the second meeting than at the first. Word had gone around the entire cul-de-sac section of the development. There was quite a bit of talking going on when Hank called for quiet.
“I guess the first order of business is to find out from Henry where we stand on food and protective masks. Henry?”
Henry reluctantly stood up. “Uh… well… let’s see. We have three of the totes full of canned food. One full of food packaged in boxes, and one with the masks and stuff like that. Some people brought antiseptic hand cleaner, too. The sixth tote is still empty.”
“That’s good,” Hank said. “Thanks Henry.”
Henry sat down. As soon as he did, Bren Jackson stood up and said, “That bird flu thing kind of fizzled out. Just a scare. I think we should take back what we gave and forget about this.”
It really disappointed Hank, but before he could say anything, one of the people that were new at this meeting said, “But it’s still a risk. From what Elizabeth told me, this food bank thing is a good idea. Not just for the flu. What about what’s going on in eastern Europe now?”

“Oh, come on, Arty!” It was Bren again. “You really think that thing with Russia and Georgia is going to affect us here? Get real!”
Fred Cummings spoke up next. “I don’t know about that, but we’ve got the prison not too far away. I worry about Angie and my two girls if there is a breakout.”
There were some more murmurs. Bren frowned and spoke again. “That’s about as likely to happen as the Russians coming over here. And what does it have to do with some spare food supplies?”
“I wouldn’t want Angie to go out if there’s been a breakout at the prison. I’ve been thinking a lot about trying to start up a Neighborhood Watch program. Could we kind of do all of it together?”
That was the kind of thing Hank wanted to hear. “I like that idea. With it just me at my place, if something happens when I’m not home… Well… I worry about that, too.”
Elizabeth looked around. “Well, we all kind of keep an eye on each other’s places, already. Do we really need a Neighborhood Watch?”
“Would people be armed?” It was another of the people that hadn’t been at the first meeting. Stage Johnson, sitting beside his wife, Sue.
“No,” Bren said adamantly. “If we do it, just walkie-talkies and flashlights. I don’t want a bunch of people running around my place with guns.”
“I don’t see any reason for the Neighborhood Watch to be armed,” Hank said slowly. He’d decided in a split second to let the arming of the residents go for another, more suitable time. “I do like the idea of the Watch, though. I’m willing to put in a couple of hours a week.”
More murmuring, but no one addressed the situation. Hank, thinking on his feet, quickly continued. “We could get things set up and do actual patrols for a few nights, and then once a month or so to keep everyone trained. Only put out the patrol if something… like the prison break, happens.”
“I can see that,” Henry said, again surprising Hank. “I’m in for a couple hours a week, and then the once a month practices.”
Elizabeth, with her husband Juan this time, talked quietly for a moment, and then Juan raised his hand. Hank nodded at him and Juan spoke. “I will do what needs to be done to protect my family, and the neighborhood, too. I’m in.”
There were several more that spoke up then, stating much the same thing. Finally, almost everyone turned to look at Bren. He reddened, and said, “Okay! Okay! I’m in! But I don’t want this turned into a ghost hunt with everyone carrying a gun.”
“Perhaps you’d set things up with the county law enforcement and kind of be in charge of the Watch portion of our Neighborhood Action Team,” Hank said.
Much like Henry’s reaction to being put in charge of a task, Bren resisted, but finally accepted the task.
Hank quickly brought the meeting to an end. He didn’t want too many things going on too fast. Let the group slowly start taking responsibility for their own well-being, one step at a time.
Wondering when the good luck would end, Hank, with Bren more or less in charge, helped get the Neighborhood Watch program set up. He put in more than the two hours a week he said, often taking a walk around the cul-de-sac even when none were scheduled. More than once another of the residents saw him and would walk with him.
The continuation of the Watch Program, at least for some time, was ensured when three year old Lacy Cook wandered away from home and was found within minutes of calls going out to the other residents. Those that had been walking the neighborhood had learned all the little cubbyholes a youngster, or potential thief, might use to hide.
At the meeting after that happened, every household in the cul-de-sac was represented. Everyone contributed to the food bank, and there were plenty of volunteers to maintain the Watch. Hank furnished another six totes that were soon full of not only food, but additional masks, disinfectants, and such. Henry rearranged his basement without protest to accommodate the additional goods.
The only real problem, for Hank, was the fact that everyone was even more aware than in the past what their neighbors were doing. It was the talk of the Monthly Meeting after Hank had the fuel tanks and whole house generator installed.
“What’s up, Hank?” asked Elizabeth, the usual spokesperson for her and Juan. “Someone told me you put in big gasoline tanks. Isn’t that a big fire danger?”
“I put in a diesel tank,” Hank said, not mentioning the fact that there was also a five-hundred-gallon gasoline tank in addition to the three-thousand-gallon diesel tank. “Underground,” Hank continued. “Same with the new propane tank. It’s underground, too.”
“What do you need all that fuel for, anyway?” Henry’s angry voice was back.
“My Suburban is diesel. I don’t like paying the fuel price at the pump. I can pick and choose my times to buy, when it’s at least a little cheaper than other times. It’s not much, but I figure I can save a couple hundred dollars a year in fuel costs. Not much, but better than nothing. Same with the propane tank. I can add to it when the price is lower, and run through the times when it’s higher. I can tell you that neither of the tanks is anywhere near full. Fuel is expensive right now. I’m just waiting for the right time to add a bit more to them.”
The last was the straight truth. Hank was waiting for an expected drop in prices before he filled the three new tanks.
Henry looked satisfied with the explanation. So did the others, though Hank noticed the curious look that Pete Gladstone gave him. But the questions weren’t over.
“That thing at the side of the house?” Bren asked. “Is that a new kind of air conditioner? It’s a lot bigger than normal.”
“It’s a standby generator,” Hank said, rather reluctantly.
“For your whole house?” asked Elizabeth. “I thought one like that would be the size of a small building.”
Pete spoke up this time. “No. I doubt it is a whole house generator. It would be bigger. But not as big as a building. Probably just some key circuits. Huh, Hank?”
Hank nodded. “That’s right.”
“Wow!” Mike Christianson said. “That’s cool! Can Jenny and the kids come over when the power goes out? My little one is terrified of the dark and of storms.”
Several more, some of them not joking at all, asked similar questions. A disappointed Hank started to try to come up with reasons why they couldn’t. Pete came to his rescue.
“Now, come on, people! We can’t all go to Hank’s. He wouldn’t have room. And it’s not his responsibility. What we ought to do, is get a generator for the community building. We could all go there if there is a power outage. I didn’t used to worry about them here, much, but I watched a program a couple of weeks ago about how tenuous the power grid is. It’s scary.”
“What would it cost to do that?” Elizabeth asked. “How about your home system, Hank? Would you tell us how much it cost?”
Reluctantly, Hank told them the total price.
There were several whistles, but then again, there were some thoughtful nods. Not everyone thought the cost out of line with the benefits. Hank continued. “It would take one three times the size to run the key circuits at the community center, I think. But if we all kicked in, it wouldn’t be that much each. Just a bit for fuel on a monthly basis to keep the generator tested and ready.”