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to take care of Cole, and have her .38 handy.
    Grant headed to Cash n’ Carry with his Glock 27. He wasn’t the only one who had the same idea about stocking up while things were so crazy. The parking lot was full and shelves were getting bare. Everyone seemed a little nervous. Finally. People were finally getting it.
    Some of the staples, like beans and rice, were already gone. There was still a lot of mashed potato mix, oatmeal, and pasta. Everyone in the store had a big cart full of food. Some had two carts and were trying to push them both along. People were guarding the food on their carts so no one would try to take it.
    Grant got up to the cash register and the checker asked, “Have you heard about the bombing?”
    Oh, no. It was starting. “Where? Here?” Grant asked.
    “No,” the checker said. “In D.C. A big one. Some federal building there. They still don’t know what’s going on.” People around him started telling each other. This was what people were expecting, and news spread like wild fire.
    Grant paid for his groceries with some of the last of the cash he had left in the expense-check envelope in his car.
    Grant walked quickly out to his car and turned on the radio. A Senate office building had been bombed; there were lots of casualties. Not much else was known, except that the group claiming responsibility was called the “Red Brigades.” The radio played audio from their website.
    “Today, the Red Brigades took direct action to stop the dismantling of the social safety net millions of Americans depend on. We will not let corporations steal from you. Rise up. The time for revolution is now!”
    Oh great, Grant thought. The tolerant, peace loving left was killing people. The media always talked about how the Tea Party inspired violence, but no one ever acted on it. Now the left had. The Right would get blamed for it, somehow.
    Grant figured this Red Brigade group was probably a real one. If they were claiming to be left-wing terrorists, the government wouldn’t be the ones behind the bombing in a “false flag” operation. That was the term for when a despotic government conducts or allows a terrorist strike and blames it on its opponents. If the “terrorists” had been Tea Party people, then Grant would have suspected it was a false flag event to get people to rally behind the government and hate the “teabaggers.”
    Grant saw some of the dead and wounded on TV. Even though he didn’t like politicians, he did not wish them dead. He especially didn’t like that now there would be a “crisis” that the feds would use to take even more power. Martial law hadn’t been imposed, but this might be the trigger for it. What was it that a previous president’s Chief of Staff said? “Never let a good crisis go to waste.” The Feds would not let this golden opportunity go to waste.
    Grant decided right then and there: if there is a crackdown, especially if people like WAB staff are targeted, then it would be time to bug out. Lisa had better come, or else.
    Grant had patrol duty that night so he tried to take a nap. He couldn’t sleep, so he just watched TV. There were more Red Brigade strikes. Chicago, LA, Miami. They were coordinated. No one had heard of this group before. How many more undetected groups were out there that would go on bombing sprees?
    As Grant watched TV, the power went out. No; it couldn’t be. Was some terrorist group taking down the power grid? Grant felt terrified for the first time since this had all started. He was terrified. He gathered the kids together. It was still light outside so he could see around the house.
    The lights were off in the rest of the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his house. Grant wanted to put on his pistol belt, which made no sense. A pistol wouldn’t make the electricity come back on. And he didn’t want to freak out the kids.
    Grant just sat there with the kids. The house was totally silent, without the electrical gadgets emitting so much