Arks of America Read online

  The leadership for Vince’s division at the company in Louisville called a Friday afternoon department-wide meeting to address employees’ concerns related to safety.

  Vince was not surprised the atmosphere in the room had a frantic tone. What was most alarming was that these white-collar workers, many of whom had known each other for years, were taking sides, visibly separating in the large conference room. Many automatically assumed the police shooting was racially motivated. What was worse was the unspoken assumption that their white coworkers were a part of the problem or against them and siding with racist forces. While Vince knew racism existed, at the same time he was hard pressed to find the racial motivation here. There was a particular element of the crowd made up of Indian workers that was more nervous and confused. It was clear that many Indian workers didn’t comprehend the passions and reason for the deep-seated racial divide and why their coworkers had changed so drastically almost overnight. Watching them, Vince thought if things got worse, they would be a community lost and alone.

  In an effort to appease people and try and make them feel safer, leadership decided to allow the entire department to work from home the following week and would be sending out communications from the various emotional support groups that people could reach out to with questions and for help. The company had dozens of special interest support groups. Vince would be the only demographic without a support group had he not been in the military. No company in the country would risk the public outcry of creating a special interest or support group for his demographic.

  Shuffling out of the large conference room, Vince was approached by Luke Whitner, who used to work in his area. “Vince, are you going to have all your people work from home?” Luke asked.

  “I’ll give them that option. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to come in if they don’t feel safe. I’d feel horrible if someone tried to come in and got hurt.”

  “Are you coming in then?”

  “Some of the time at least. If anyone else is coming in, I feel like I should. It may not matter anyway. If this goes on longer or gets worse, the company will probably make working from home mandatory. They don’t want lawsuits on their hands if people get hurt coming in to work.”

  “Our entire department is working from home now. I’ll run by your house a time or two if you want,” Luke offered.

  “Thanks. We’re both far enough out from downtown that we should be okay, but I’d appreciate it,” Vince said.

  On the way home, Vince decided to stop by both a Kroger and Costco in the vain hope they were open and the shelves were not picked clean. He kept a large supply of survival food from Wise, Mountain House, and Augason Farms, as well as some military surplus MREs. It would be good to buy more if he could. He also decided he would stop by the local Bass Pro and Cabela stores. Mostly he just liked walking through those stores. He already owned most of what he wanted or needed. Camping, survival gear, and ammo would be worth its weight in gold if the current crisis didn’t end soon.

  Taking Shape

  “The ability to direct individual accomplishments toward organizational objectives. It is the fuel that allows common people to attain uncommon results.”

  - Andrew Carnegie

  BREAKING NEWS

  “Riots in the city have grown worse. Louisville police have now been working overtime for six days and are becoming fatigued. The mayor and police chief have warned they are expanding the areas that will be partially served for only the most violent or urgent crimes. For a list of those areas and which emergency calls will get an immediate response, police are asking citizens to go online and read the documentation to complete an incident report. For a link to that site and information, please visit our website.

  “In related news, citizens’ complaints are rolling in that home invasions, physical assaults, and looting are running unchecked. The police chief insists they are responding to those calls and doing the best they can. Reports to this station by victims relate response times of two to three hours. Some calls have taken as much as two days to get a response…”

  ***

  Prospect, KY

  “Jim, someone is at the door,” Laura said with some concern in her voice. It wasn’t odd to have a delivery or service person knock, but they hadn’t been getting deliveries or service calls lately.

  “I’ll get it. It’s probably someone who is lost or broke down.” Answering the door, Jim noticed two men dressed more like they belonged in the inner city than the suburbs. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, we are low on gas and saw your car out front. Can you give us some?” said the smaller of the two with yellow teeth and wispy facial hair, too patchy to be called a beard.

  “No, I’m sorry. I only have about a quarter of a tank, and most of the gas stations are closed,” Bill said, starting to close the door.

  The larger of the two put his arm against the door, stopping Bill from shutting it. “How about we look in your garage for a tank of gas we might use?” the smaller man countered with an unnerving smile as he craned his neck to see past Bill to his wife Laura and their daughter Sarah.

  “No,” Bill said, trying to sound firm or commanding, yet his attempt at strength was betrayed by a quaver in his voice. “You should leave now or I’ll call the police.”

  “No, you won’t call the police, and even if you did, I doubt they’ll come,” the smaller man said as they strode into the house past Bill’s feeble protests. “Your wife can make us something to eat and then we’ll poke around for gas or whatever else we need. If you all are nice to us, then we’ll be on our way in a little while.”

  The terror on Laura and Sarah’s face escalated to pure panic as the men barged in and eyed them lewdly. Bill didn’t own a gun and couldn’t fight these men. He was afraid for his wife and daughter. His son Jimmy was downstairs playing video games with headphones on. “Sure…O-Okay,” Bill stammered, hoping to appease them and give them some food so they would go away. “Laura can make something for you. Sarah, go to your room so these men can eat.”

  “No, Sarah can stay here. I like having her where I can see her.” The smaller man grabbed Sarah by the forearm. “Come sit in my lap, honey.”

  “She’s only fifteen!” Bill yelled, lunging forward. The larger man hit him across the jaw, crumpling him to the floor, and proceeded to kick him savagely in the face and ribs until he was unconscious, laughing as Laura and Sarah screamed.

  The commotion roused Jimmy from the basement, and he came running upstairs to see his sister in the creepy man’s lap, a gun pointed at his face. “Now stand still! Is anyone else in the house?” the small man said, his voice rising in pitch, clearly getting angry and mean, the pretend genial demeanor totally gone. “Bruce, tie up the man in case he wakes, and the boy in the other room there too. I think Laura and Sarah here will be real sociable for a while.”

  Later, Bill woke to the screams and cries of his wife and daughter. He was able to free himself and tried to creep into Sarah’s room behind the man called Bruce with a large kitchen knife. His mind didn’t comprehend the meaning of his wife’s change in screams from the other room until a split second before the bullet entered his brain through the back of his skull.

  “Bruce, finish what you’re doing there with the young one, then tie her up. I’ll knock the mom out and we’ll grab whatever food and gas we can find and leave. I doubt anyone will come to a single shot. We’re pretty much done here anyway.”

  << Liz >>

  During a break in the media event, Liz leaned in and whispered, “Carol, are we close to being done yet?”

  Liz was impeccably dressed, all the while making the outfit appear casually thrown together. She wore fashionable jeans, a blouse with a plunging neckline, and high-heeled brown ankle-high boots. Her jewelry accented the outfit perfectly, her hair carefully mussed.

  Liz made it through all the tedious interviews and media events her agent John arranged and, Carol told her, “simply couldn’t be missed.”
She did it with such style and grace that many didn’t know how much she disliked this part of her career. She was aware she’d been too flippant and a bit caustic toward reporters lately. Liz recently asked her team to arrange a break in her schedule, and as much as she needed it, she couldn’t make it happen for a few more weeks. She had a short cameo role to perform in Hollywood at the studio and some public service announcements to film. On top of all that, she was scheduled to attend a mysterious soiree planned for the following weekend that occupied her mind.

  “You’re almost done,” Carol soothed. “You’re doing great, and they love you. The studio will be happy. Each one of these events improves your Q-score numbers.”

  “Yes, but at what cost?” Liz muttered under her breath. She got through the rest of the event with a wide smile and an engaging sense of humor.

  ***

  During the ride home, Liz stared out the window of her SUV, letting her mind drift, absentmindedly, pondering for perhaps the tenth time the mysterious soiree.

  “Carol, I need you to make sure we get that time scheduled off that we spoke of for a few weeks in Kentucky later this month or early next. Cancel whatever you need to in order to make it happen.” Her voice came out more as a command than she’d intended, which only strengthened her resolve to get away.

  “That will put a hole in the promotions for your upcoming film. The studio and your publicist will be disappointed.”

  “They will just have to be disappointed then.” Liz made a conscious effort to soften her tone. “Tell them I’m being a diva. If they want me happy and smiling at the events, then they need to help make it happen.”

  Carol nodded and started typing into her smartphone, her thumbs and fingers a blur.

  Liz leaned forward and tapped Bill’s shoulder. “Bill, you don’t need to come along for this trip if you need some time off. I’m sure someone else can go. I’ll be covered by studio security most of the time and flying into the smaller airport, Bowman Field in Louisville. My family will be there to meet me.”

  “I’d rather keep you safe than take the time off,” Bill answered after a moment of thought. “On the other hand, my son is out of school on break soon, and my ex-wife has been talking about summer camp. I think he’s still too young for summer camp, but not too young for a camping trip with his dad. So if you’re sure it will be okay, I’ll take you up on your offer and be here when you get back.”

  Liz grinned at the boyish smile that crept onto Bill’s face when he spoke about his son. “This will work perfectly then. Bring back pictures. I grew up camping with my family and love it.”

  She leaned back and touched Carol’s knee, forcing her to look up from her smartphone. “So tell me what you know about this soirée weekend after next.”

  “I have no idea,” Carol said. “It sounds so exciting, mostly because they’re keeping it so secretive. When John urged you to attend, I was glad I didn’t have to go too. I thought it would be so boring. Since then I’ve heard pretty much anyone who’s anybody has the same invite. Even some of the financial power brokers that most people never meet who fund a lot of the studio’s projects will be there.”

  Caught up in Carol’s excitement, Liz said, “All I know for sure is that it’s billed as a cross between a fundraiser and a financial strategy session. John told me I need to attend. He manages the money, so I guess he’s right. I don’t know if he wants me to donate money or time or if it’s because some of my investments haven’t done so well. I guess I should have asked more. I didn’t because I trust John and am intrigued by Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  “So why not cancel?” Carol asked. “You do so much for them. You don’t have to feel compelled to donate if that’s what this is.”

  “Mostly I’m going because it’s being hosted by David Cavanaugh of Cavanaugh Corporation.” Liz giggled. “He’s always been someone I’m curious about. He’s so wealthy and mysterious, and…” Liz allowed the word to drag out, making a face at Carol that girls use alone when talking about boys, “…for a man close to seventy, he has the face of a leading man. I want to meet him and see what he’s like in person.”

  “What’s so mysterious about him, other than being a filthy rich outdoorsman?”

  “When I was younger, I used to see interviews with him on television, and he came across more like a hunter or hiker than a billionaire,” Liz mused. “Every time I ask people questions about him, I get more stories that don’t fit together. I can’t pin down who he is for real. I’m told he’s a former jet mechanic, outdoor enthusiast, and he inherited a mid-sized construction company forty years ago from an uncle who died. He took that company, ran with it, and kept making larger buildings. Eventually he was a preferred builder of skyscrapers. Later he took the company into road and bridge construction and finally into large hydroelectric dams.”

  “Impressive. Do you think he needs a pretty assistant like me?”

  “Funny! You’re stuck with me,” Liz teased, tossing a towel at Carol. “He’s done those types of projects all around the world. That doesn’t even touch the financial trading and money management his firm does. They say he has a Midas touch. Time magazine called him the Richard Branson of the Rockies, and it stuck. That’s the stuff that interests me. How can he do it all? Is he as easygoing as they say? Or a self-absorbed jerk like many wealthy people I’ve met?”

  “Wow!” Carol snickered. “I guess that means you are going to the soirée then.”

  “Yes, of course.” Liz giggled. “Hopefully he will touch some of my investments with his Midas touch.”

  “Liz, that sounded naughty. That’s not like you.”

  “I honestly didn’t mean it that way at all,” Liz said. “He’s a very attractive man, but seriously, he’s older than my father and not much younger than my grandfather. I truly did mean I’d like some better returns on my money, though. I don’t want to be an old actress living alone in an apartment with all my memorabilia and stories of when I was a star.”

  Carol nodded. “I get it.”

  “I saw Dave Cavanaugh on some outdoor reality program not too long ago. I don’t know why he would do those since he doesn’t need the money. He does come across as down to earth and friendly, though, so yes, I’m very curious to meet him. I suspect that’s a driving force for why many of the people are attending. If he needs to raise money, I’m even more curious as to why. Who knows? Perhaps it will be fun.”

  “On a more serious note,” Carol said, “well, aside from the soiree, please promise me you’ll be careful and stay low key and private on this trip. I have a bad feeling about things.”

  “Are you still freaked out about that mass shooting in Miami?”

  “Yes, and you should be too. You know the woman who does my hair?” Liz nodded. “Her brother was one of the victims. She was out of work for days after the shooting. When she came back, she kept breaking down in tears. Someone else had to finish my hair.”

  “Bad things happen all over the place; the thing in Miami is terrible. You know I was shot at recently.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Carol said. “I don’t remember things being this bad when I was younger. It feels different these days, though I can’t put my finger on why or how.” She squeezed Liz’s hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful, please.”

  “I will.”

  << Dave >>

  The Falcon 7X possessed the speed and comfort few could enjoy for private air travel. The success Dave enjoyed as a businessman allowed him a wide range of luxuries. For the most part, those things didn’t appeal to Dave. The jet was an exception that he thoroughly enjoyed. It was fast and had the ability to get into small airports larger planes couldn’t. It blended in fairly well and didn’t draw more attention than any other private aircraft.

  As he flew to Los Angeles, he reflected on the meeting with his planning and implementation team. The group was somewhat taken aback at first by what he’d suggested. As he monitored some of the breakout meetings, he found some of the people puttin
g up more reasons why it couldn’t be done than why it could. In a few cases, they chose to separate out the more negative holdouts and put them on other less important tasks. In some cases, people were ushered out with explanations that their portion of the project had been cut or their work was done. They were paid well and reminded of their non-disclosure contracts.

  Soon the tone of the group changed from skepticism to excitement. The mood grew from one of possibility to the actual reality that they would make this happen. Dave’s staff was doing a masterful job of winning them over. Each team member gravitated to a different part of the plan they loved or were motivated by. For some, it was a way to take ownership in a growing market. For others, it was a way to win intellectual kudos by doing something that hadn’t been done before. Dave even noticed a few people mixed in who appeared excited to finally have a positive approach to prepping. Once the acceptance turned to excitement, the race was on. This could be done.

  Dave gave them one month to come back with a working proposal that had the four essential parts. There was a final piece that Dave insisted on that he was convinced were crucial—the community service clause. The communities must be built by people who would give back and invest their time in others and the community. People who would not pull their weight alongside their neighbors in either the minor service or major strategic tasks would not be welcome. This was very important because the plan was to build in community service escalator credits. Those could be used in many ways, including helping some members pay portions of their dues for people who needed financial help and possessed skills the community needed to attract.