Safe Haven

By E.S.B.

Parents and Grandparents often worry about the future for their children especially when global warming, terrorism and political mayhem seem to predict the end to civilization as we know it. When a Grandmother finds herself with the resources to do something to protect her family if and when it is necessary she uses her vivid imagination, her logic, research and her intelligence to create a “Safe Haven”. Can she achieve it? Can she organise, plan sufficiently to succeed? Will she be able to accomplish it in time?
The world crisis has just begun!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796048193

Book preview

Prologue

Susan was feeling her age. She sat quietly listening to the slow thump of her heart and hoping she could finish the novel she had started a few years ago. She had always considered herself lucky to have such a vivid imagination. It had allowed her to overcome whatever catastrophe was happening or had happened in her life. Simply put, she escaped into her dreamland, and today she wanted to finish writing out one of those fantasies. Susan thought that putting it in book form would allow her to leave something for her children and grandchildren, maybe sparking their imagination or even giving them food for thought. She wished she had the time to do more than write as the world changed around her.

Chapter One

As was her usual start to a day, Susan strolled her way along one of the many trails that started almost from the doorstep of her cabin tucked high into the coastal mountains of Canada. She had bought this cabin when she had retired from her career. At that point in her life, she wanted nothing more than to live in the wilderness, breathe pure, clean mountain air, and walk for miles. She had been menopausal, burnt out, and stressed out. Her children were all grown up, and although the sale of their old home and the purchase of this cabin had taken them by surprise, they already had their mates or their own careers. They no longer needed her, and she desperately needed to get away from everything and everybody.

Her two dogs, Foxy and Rife, trotted happily in front of her, sniffing out the scents of rabbit, bear, bobcat, maybe the odd skunk and raccoon too. She felt good this early spring day. Not really spring yet, she reminded herself, but it felt warm and the sun was shining. The winter had been tough, lots of snow and bitterly cold at times, but this February morning was going to be the beginning of her plan, a major undertaking at a point in her life that begged to suggest maybe she was too old to be starting it.

Two years previously, on a bright fall day, she had been doing just what she was doing now, strolling along, enjoying the crispness of the mountain air mesmerized by the beauty surrounding her as vine maple, wild rose, and Oregon grape turned the landscape into vibrant color. The air was suffused with the humming of bees and birds as they prepared for the coming winter. Salmon were spawning in the two rivers that flowed down the mountain, joining with a larger more aggressive river that made its way to the ocean. She knew the bears were busy too and watched for any reaction from her dogs. They were great to have along, for they were quick to herd any wayward bear or other critter back into the bush without antagonizing them into defensive action. Once the animal had retreated into the bush, the dogs were happy to continue on their way sniffing out new adventures.

The big dog, Rife, a Doberman cross, had a personality that friends and neighbors enjoyed. Big and boisterous, he was always happy to greet people. For those who did not know him, his seemingly aggressive bark was enough to stop them in their tracks until Susan called the okay. Foxy was a small multicross of sorts. Maybe some terrier, maybe some sheltie, she was fast and terrifically smart but not so eager to meet and greet, preferring to hang back, check out Rife’s reaction, and then if everything seemed okay, she would join in with a brief greeting. That day, they were busy feasting on salal berries, virtually sucking them off the branches.

That fall, she had been on a similar trail, three kilometers from home, when the dogs had heard something in the bush. On alert, Susan had followed them hesitantly, and not far off the trail they found two men lying on the ground. Susan called the dogs back and very cautiously moved closer to the bodies. She immediately noticed that they appeared to have been shot execution-style through the head, but as she started to leave the scene to call the RCMP, one of the men moaned, and she dashed to his side. He muttered a name and then motioned toward a rocky outcrop. It was almost as though he had hung on to the thread of life so that he could let someone know who was responsible. With a final sigh, he died.

Susan went to the rocky outcrop, but it was Foxy who found the backpack tucked into the large crack of the rock. When Susan pulled it out, she found another one behind it. Tentatively she opened one and found it full of tightly wrapped bundles of cash. For years, she had been playing with a daydream, using the same scenario over and over in her mind to help her fall asleep, and now she mentally pinched herself in case she was dreaming again. Hoisting the bags, she looked carefully at where she had dragged them out of the crack, and then she spent a few minutes gently spreading pine needles and detritus over the area until she was satisfied that it looked natural again. Only then did she start the return trip back to her home using a hidden trail through the bush as she covered the last half kilometer. It meant she would not be seen by any of her neighbors although they were few and far between at this time of year.

The tiny community was really a recreational one made up of a few cabins on half-acre lots along the river’s edge and backing onto crown land, and most of the owners had gone back to the city for the winter so the possibility of being seen carrying two backpacks was really minimal.

Once home, Susan phoned the RCMP and related what she had found with the exception of the bags. She remembered the name the dying man had told her. She gave the RCMP a rough description of the location, telling them that she would meet them on the road at a certain point and lead them into the bush. She was well known to the local RCMP because she was an early riser and out on the trails, she was usually the one to find and report typical problems found in recreational areas.

The officer she spoke to told her he would call as soon as he was on his way. This meant she had time to retrace her steps. As soon as she replaced the phone receiver, she took the bags, first taking out one bundle of bank notes that she placed under the bookcase and then hid the bags carefully. She only had to wait an hour before the call came in, and she retraced her steps to the road and the meeting place, leaving the disappointed dogs at home.

Within ten minutes of arriving at the meeting point, she saw not just one vehicle but several identifiable RCMP vehicles speeding in her direction. She stood in the road and waved her arms and then stepped back as they came screaming to a stop. Obviously excited by the possibilities but trying hard to remain dignified, several officers jumped out of their vehicles and clustered around her.

After a brief overview, she led them on to the trail and into the bush. She related what and where the dogs and herself had trodden around the bodies and told the officer in charge what she had touched. She also related when the one man had moaned and she had realized he had still been alive. Susan knew the importance of not contaminating a crime scene but once contaminated, the importance of every movement and touch in the area. She did not, however, inform them of the dogs’ and her movement around the rock face other than to say the dogs had wandered over to it while she was attending the man.

The RCMP told her to head back to the road. They had her personal information and would want to talk to her again later. She walked back home and made some coffee, all the time telling herself that she had not found anything other than the men and willing herself not to be inquisitive as to the amount of money in the bags. She also worked hard to quell any doubts or feelings of guilt that kept surfacing. She set to cleaning her home because the one thing she was very reluctant to do was to spend time cleaning when she would rather be outside.

It took all of her willpower over the next few months never to take more than one bundle of cash from those bags or even to move them from her original hiding place. She constantly told herself that it was possible for the RCMP or the murderers to have set up cameras or recording devices to follow her every move in case she had found the money if in fact they knew it was missing, but it did not stop her from planning every night when she went to bed.

Following on the dreams that had persisted, she took particular notice of the world news and the constant talk of climate change. When she counted the first bundle, she was shocked to find it contained ten thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills. After careful consideration and sticking with the plan, she deposited three thousand dollars in the bank at the end of the month and started paying her bills in cash.

Two months after finding the bodies, she heard on the news that the RCMP had a shoot-out with well-known drug lords, and one of the names was the same as the one she had given to the police. Three of the gang had succumbed to their wounds as well as one RCMP officer. She started to take three thousand each month from a bag and deposit it, making it appear as if she received an income to that effect at the end of every month.

Chapter Two

Her daydreams, based on the world news and her active imagination, suggested that the world economy would collapse due to the billions of dollars needed to deal with the constant disasters caused by flooding, fires, and earthquakes throughout the world. The continuous terrorist attacks caused by extremists abroad and growing racialism due in part to the failing economy, job losses, and high inflation rates all factored in to create worldwide tension.

In her dream, she built a home that was truly unique and large enough for her three grown daughters and their families. Over and over, she had planned in minute detail every aspect of dealing with several years of hiding with them until the catastrophe was over. She knew that following any major event, there was always the possibility of panic and people looting, stealing, and killing in order to survive, that food and necessities could become scarce or nonexistent, and although now close to her seventies, she felt she had a chance to protect her family because of all the nights she had spent planning and thinking of ways it could be done.

Raising her daughters as a single mother had been tough. Not so much the day-to-day chaos of three young children in a small home but the day-to-day decisions she had made in order to raise them as she thought fit at the time. She could have been a welfare mom—many were—but when she decided to leave her husband of twenty-two years, it was because of his drinking, his unfaithfulness, and their constant financial troubles. Having a joint bank account, she was constantly embarrassed by countless bounced checks even though Susan had worked full-time up to the point of giving birth to their last daughter and started work again three weeks after her birth. The last blow came when she was locked out of their home because she arrived home late from work. Her husband was very drunk, grinning from behind a window while their young children, crying, looked on from their attic room window. As dark began to fall, the children threw a blanket and pillow out of the window for her so she could sleep in the car, and the next morning, she had to go to work as she was.

I did not have these children so they could live like this. It is not fair to them, and it is not going to get any better. What kind of a mother am I? It stops now! From that moment on, she carefully put a little money aside. This was the start of the decisions that came back to haunt her as her children grew into adulthood.

Calmly talking to her employer over the next few weeks, she found he was willing to give her extra time and bank the income for her. Also, if she took courses in aspects of the business, he would increase her wages accordingly. She could start earlier and miss lunches in order to be home shortly after her children left school.

Two years passed as she studied hard, starting very early each morning and after the children went to bed at night. Susan was honest with her husband except on the financial side. She explained to him that she intended to leave if he could not straighten himself out, but he never believed that for a moment and continued as he had been.

At the age of forty, she left with the children. They were very willing, helping her pack when her husband was absent, finding this tiny home close to school, sharing bedrooms and one bathroom. Susan actually slept on a futon in the living room for the first couple of years. She worked longer hours as they grew older, and they became very independent, and as the years went by, they accused her of never being home, of preferring work to them.

Now as adults, as parents, with the oldest being a divorced single mom herself, they were beginning to understand, to realize that sometimes in life, parents make hard decisions in an attempt to better the lives of the children they have brought into the world. Susan regretted the time lost to those children, but she was also very proud of the way they had grown up, each having a good career, each being very capable, very independent, and very good mothers to their own children.

Sally, the oldest, had followed a similar course through her life. She married young, had three sons in fairly quick succession, had divorced her husband after many years of marriage, finding him to be still very immature and unfaithful to boot, and then had worked at a great career. Her confidence had grown enormously over the last few years. Her sons had grown into lovely well-mannered young men, and Sally had begun to enjoy her empty nest and the freedom it gave her to become her own person. She had started to travel, seeing the world through mature eyes.

Anne, the middle daughter, had always been an independent individual even as a very young girl. She was the early adventurist of the daughters, marrying a great guy when she reached her thirties and having two daughters. She was deeply into education, and her career had blossomed until she was top of her profession. Bill and Anne had bought, rented, and sold properties until they could afford the home they wanted. They were the planners, the coupon savers, the money-matters folks.

Kay, the youngest, was the total opposite of the other two. She was the social one. Education placed at the very end of her early list of importance, much to Susan’s frustration. She partied, skipped school, used her older sisters’ IDs to get into clubs, but her heart had always belonged to one guy all through high school. Still together after high school, they chose to continue with the social life but maintained decent jobs that enabled them to buy all the toys a young couple could want. Kay’s smile lit the room up, and her flippant attitude turned many a catastrophe into laughter. They had brought a son and a daughter into the world.

Thinking of her family, Susan decided she simply had to do something to help them survive the pandemonium hitting the world. It could only get worse in her opinion.

Chapter Three

Today, she was going to dig out those bags and find if there was enough money to follow her plan. She walked her usual six kilometers by which time she knew the dogs would be content to relax while she had her morning coffee and planned her day. Only this day, she dug out the bags, brought them