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sagging. With no grid power, he couldn’t even use his air compressor to raise the adjustable gas shocks. He had to use a hand pump instead. This turned a two-minute job into a forty-minute one.
    By 10 p.m. they had the two vehicles loaded. They changed their clothes, donning British army surplus camouflage fatigues. These disruptive pattern material (DPM) clothes were sturdy and blended in a wide variety of foliage. They were the standard uniform for their Idaho retreat group. Much of their storage food and extra equipment was already in Idaho, at Todd and Mary’s retreat. But even the small amount that they had at the house was a challenge to shoehorn into the two vehicles.
    While they were packing, they heard gunshots in the distance. Each time that she heard shots, Terry gave Ken a nervous look. After the third time, Ken muttered, “Don’t worry, that’s just some lowlifes taking advantage of the blackout to settle old scores.”
    After some discussion, they decided to have Terry lead off in the Mustang. Terry summed up what they had both been contemplating. “Of our two vehicles, we’ve got to consider the Mustang semi-expendable, and the Bronco irreplaceable, since that’s our four-wheel drive. So if we run low of fuel, we ditch the ’Stang. And if the Mustang gets blocked, or pinned, I’ll bail out and run back to the Bronc. Hopefully that will distract any looters and give us time to get away.”
    Ken sighed, and said, “That’s hardly like sacrificing a pawn. But under the circumstances, I guess that’s the best we can hope for, if we get into a jam.”
    Ken and Terry worked by the light of flashlights while they packed. As they did so, they listened to the car radio in the Mustang, tuned to the WGN news broadcasts. The reporters mentioned that the station was operating on backup power. The litany of rioting, looting, and arson reports was nearly continuous. At 10:30 p.m., the traffic reports were still bad. There were traffic jams caused by collisions, car fires, stalled cars, and “police activity.” That was the euphemism used by the local traffic reporters for gunfights in progress. There were dozens of these incidents throughout the metropolitan region.
    Ken intentionally left their rifles and ALICE backpacks as the last items that they would pack on the passenger seats of both vehicles. These packs had been the standard U.S. military issue for many years. With an aluminum frame, olive drab nylon bag, and comfortable hip pad and shoulder straps, the ALICE was the pack carried by two generations of American soldiers. If they had to abandon their vehicles they might have to do so very quickly, and Ken insisted that the most important items be kept close at hand. Their backpacks and their weapons were by far their top priority.
    Terry felt that it was best to get on the road as soon as possible. They hoped that leaving at night would minimize the traffic. But the news broadcasts spoke of traffic snarls at all hours. At 10:43,they started the engines of both the Bronco and the Mustang. Ken reached over the hood of the Mustang and pulled down the emergency release for the electric garage door opener. He yanked it backward, rolling the garage door up. In the Bronco, Ken followed Terry’s Mustang slowly out the driveway into the street, which was lit only by their headlights.

3
True Believer
    “Great works are performed, not by strength, but by perseverance. Yonder palace was raised by single stones, yet you see its height and spaciousness. He that shall walk with vigor three hours a day will pass in seven years a space equal to the circumference of the globe.”
    —Samuel Johnson (1709–1784)
Richmond, Virginia
Seventeen Years Before the Crunch
    Being born and raised in the upscale Carytown district of Richmond, Virginia, Ben Fielding was not very well prepared for the Crunch. His education as a lawyer didn’t help him much, either. If it weren’t for the fact that he had moved to a rural area a