Unprepared Pt. 01

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is the first submission of a three-part story. I could have put it in a different category, but the story as a whole seemed to fit best here.

"If you go with my recommendations, you'll be all set. I've documented it all in my report, including the three-year plan if you need to spread things out for financial reasons."

I looked at the two unofficial leaders of this group; Jason and Dave had been smiling through most of my report. I understand how they feel and have seen it in some of my other clients. It's satisfying to be so close to being self-sustaining.

We chatted about the streak of warm, clear weather as we walked toward the mouth of the cave and out into the open, shaded under a canopy of trees. When I looked around, I could make out multiple buildings, but you had to search for them. These people had done a fantastic job of blending in with their Appalachian surroundings.

It was early afternoon, and my flight didn't leave until tomorrow, a little before noon. I'd been invited to stay another night with them, for no reason other than the pleasure of it. I surprised myself by accepting. It wasn't unusual for my clients to ask me to extend my stay, but I'd learned that it was usually to pump me for more information or advice...for free. Sometimes they even asked me to join them.

These folks were different though. I liked them. Not that I didn't like a lot of my other clients but let's say I've run into some interesting characters in the last three years. I've listened to rants, crazy theories, and even paranoia. But that wasn't as common as people thought.

A lot of people don't understand what I do. Many that do, don't understand why. You can count my wife in that latter group. I'm a consultant, and sometimes a general contractor, who assists homesteaders and preppers.

That's right...preppers.

Preppers and homesteaders can range from poor to wealthy, and I've dealt with the full spectrum. Some have almost no money and others have very deep pockets. People without much of a budget can be fun to help as they tend to be very willing to roll up their sleeves and work for it. People that have the funds can manage amazing things.

That's where the general contractor part comes in. I help people build homesteads, compounds, and survival shelters. Sometimes I modify existing structures to add features like safe rooms, armories, and secret storage. Most of the time I don't do this myself; I coordinate and make sure it gets done. Not that I won't get my hands dirty on occasion.

A lot of people probably think, 'So what? A lot of people can do that kind of work.' They'd be right except for one thing...privacy. Many people that want these things done don't want everyone to know about it. My services are valued because I can complete the job with discretion.

I can pull off installing an underground bunker for a client, and in the end, the only people who are aware of both what it is and where it is, are the client and me. Is it easy? No. That's why I'm in demand and make excellent money.

On the consultant side of my work, it comes down to the fact that I've learned a lot about what to do and the right way to do it. I've also learned what not to do, which can sometimes be even more important. In general, I point out the essentials people need to be self-sustaining and even secure. A lot of it is basic, and your average Joe could figure it out. But people always take things we take for granted...and don't realize until we don't have them.

I'm one of those people that has a knack for seeing the big picture, being methodical about breaking it down, and noticing gaps as well as excesses. I learned it while growing up in Alaska. My parents had me while they lived on, what to this day they still refer to as, a commune. Today we'd simply call it a homestead. Self-sustaining. I loved it and learned a lot.

We reach a clearing and I can't help but admire this setting. It's early summer in the Appalachians, and we're in a hollow, or as my current clients call it, a 'holler'. As a matter of fact, they've named this homestead 'Hidden Hollow'. I half expect a moonshiner to step out onto the trail.

This group of friends has a farm a little further down in the valley. It's a beautiful old place that could be on a postcard; an old barn, quaint farmhouse, and an old, split-rail fence. That's where I'll bed down, so I can be up early and make it to Atlanta to catch my flight.

I first came here a year ago to give them some 'start-up' advice. They had solid plans, and I helped them make a few changes. One suggestion I had was buying the land we're on right now. Obviously, they pulled it off.

We've been gathering in this clearing every evening so far. They have a cozy fire pit and Jason brings out his guitar. Every now and then he plays a song and sometimes the group sings, but we all enjoy quiet conversation and the crackle of the fire. I could get used to this.

I'm sitting on one of the half-log benches talking to Dave's wife, Sue, as people start gathering around. My eye is drawn to a woman...Cassie...I think. She's extremely attractive; average height, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, striking black eyes, and olive skin. Attractive enough that back in my single days, I'd have been tempted to ask her out.

I tried to talk to her two days ago, but she's quiet. Not unfriendly...more distracted than anything. I got the feeling something is troubling her and she's processing. I did learn that she's the animal expert for this small community. And I mean expert...she's a veterinarian. She runs a clinic out of the farm and brings some cash into the group.

Cassie's also the group's bee expert and is in charge of their modest apiary. They all pitch in, but she makes the decisions. They don't produce enough honey to sell, but they love it being on their menu.

This micro-community is made up of about twenty people. I've talked to almost all of them, but some haven't been here during my visit. They aren't opposed to expanding but aren't recruiting either. If a person has a skillset they need and is interested, they'll consider it.

They'd lost one member a few months ago...Dave told me. She was a survival expert and knew how to make cheese. What a combo! He must have been able to tell I wasn't able to remember her because he said,

"Purple hair?"

"Oooooooh...Right! I remember now!"

I did. I meet a lot of people, and if it's been a while, I have to be reintroduced; I usually forget names. But you tend to remember things like purple hair. She left, and it was a big blow to them. But I have to say, they have managed well without her.

After some pleasant camaraderie, Jason asks for everyone's attention.

"Hey y'all. I want to thank Bear for coming out and assessing our capabilities. We can go into the details later, but I'm happy to share that he says we're doing things right. If we stick to our plans our dream will be realized. In a couple years, we all should be able to stay out here full time!"

Everyone had broad smiles on their faces, a few even clapped. Even the withdrawn Cassie had a grin on her face. Good! I was going to be walking down to the farm with her soon and wasn't looking forward to it if she was going to be in a bad mood.

They looked at me, expecting me to say a few things.

"You folks are doing things right. I want to tell you, you're a great bunch of people. Fun to be around. Happy and hard working. I've learned if the people are positive, they have a better chance of success. You'll be fine."

Again, the smiles beamed, and a few stated their thanks. I went around and said my good-byes to each one. I received invitations to visit again from all. Jason and Dave reiterated that sentiment as I waved goodbye and turned to walk with Cassie.

I tried to engage her in conversation on the way down, but although she was polite and answered questions, it was clear she wasn't feeling chatty. So, I respected that, and we walked in relative quiet, nothing but the sound of our footsteps, crickets, and a whispering breeze to break the silence. When she did speak, her voice was pleasant.

--

Whatever she was going through, it didn't keep her from being a welcoming hostess. I had a clean bed to sleep in and fresh towels in the morning. When I went downstairs, she was making a big breakfast and without asking, I stepped in and helped. That broke the ice a little and I got a warm smile. It was worth it.

"So, do you go home now?"

Did I mention her voice was pleasant? It was soft, but you could sense the strength in it too. I also noticed she didn't have the southern accent like the rest.

"No. I have to go meet with another client in Idaho. I'll be heading out from Atlanta today. I'll be on site for a week and after that, back to DC."

At that she wrinkled her nose. She saw me catch the look and spoke.

"I'm sorry. Cities aren't for me. To be honest, I'm surprised you live in one. You seemed to enjoy it here and I can't imagine you have many clients in cities."

"You'd be surprised; there are a few. I'm with you though. Cities aren't my thing either. I mean, there are some decent aspects, but I prefer something like this."

I gestured to show I meant their homestead. The setting reminded me a lot of my favorite place, my cabin in the mountains of North Carolina. When I thought about it, not too far from here as the crow flies. Although I didn't say it, I wasn't looking forward to being back in the nation's capital.

We made small talk while we cooked, ate, and cleaned up. I learned her given name was Kassandra, with a K. She went by Kassie for two reasons: her parents had always called her that, and she felt her full name sounded too stuffy.

I shook her hand, said goodbye, and left.

"Damn."

I'd arrived at the airport and checked my messages. An email had come in a moment ago from my client in Idaho postponing the trip. I wasn't upset about the money; he'd be picking up the cost of cancellation fees or changing tickets. No, it was the pain of going through all of that.

Plus, it meant going home...and having more days around my wife than we'd both planned on. Julie is big on having plans and sticking to them. Things haven't felt as solid as they used to, and I don't want to make it any worse.

I miss her, but not due to being gone for the past few days. Well, I do miss her like that too. It's more that I miss the way we used to be. I mentioned I was married, but I didn't say happily. Julie and I used to be. I'd say very much so. I still want to be and hope she does too. We met in college and hit it off. We studied hard and excelled later in our professions. Looking back, that's when the cracks started to show.

Normally, I'd go to the cabin in circumstances like this, where I have a couple of days between jobs; especially if Julie was on a business trip. But I was having work done on it and didn't want to be in the contractor's way. Also, I'd have to make the round trip there and back. I'm here at the airport now...I might as well go to DC.

I got to the counter and went through the process of getting a flight to Dulles and paying change fees for the trip to Idaho. One bright spot; the flight home was boarding in less than fifteen minutes, so I wouldn't be sitting around here.

"What are you doing here?!"

I winced.

"Nice to see you too Julie."

I could have sworn I saw fear? Perhaps panic? It was for a split second; right before the familiar sneer took over. What the hell was that? She hadn't expected me to be home. I was parked in the garage as usual. She always parked in the driveway. I think she liked showing off her luxury SUV.

"I have friends arriving in less than an hour!"

"Do you need me to leave or something?" I asked, half joking but with an inflection to infer she may be doing something inappropriate. I didn't witness the fear this time. Julie was being her usual disdainful self.

"No. Of course not...but I would appreciate it if you could stay in your den or the bedroom while they're here."

I raised an eyebrow in question.

"I'm having a bunch of women over for a party."

"Party?"

She appeared to be struggling. Suddenly she blurted,

"It's for feminine products."

It hit me.

"You're hosting a sex toy party!"

I laughed as soon as it was out of my mouth. I was amused, but she didn't take it that way. Julie blushed, and I realized it was turning an angry shade of red. I honestly didn't want to antagonize her, so before she could explode, I held up my hands, palms toward her, and spoke.

"I think that's great Sweetie...honest! It's awesome you're having friends over. I'll stay out of your way. I'll be in the den. You won't even know I'm here. You come tell me when it's over."

She relaxed while I spoke and for a brief moment flashed me the smile I loved. I haven't seen it much in the last few years. Most people receive her 'professional' smile...a bare upturn of her lips.

Julie is a striking woman. Beautiful, but with a serious, steely quality. When she smiles like that...like she used to...she transforms into the innocent girl next door. I smiled back and gave her a hug. If I'd been expecting her to hug back, I'd have been disappointed, but she did give me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Sometimes you take what you can get.

"Thank you, Bjorn. I'm sure you wouldn't want to listen to us. Women can be worse than men. That's why I scheduled it when I thought you'd be away. Well, I've got to change before they arrive."

With that, she spun and headed to our bedroom. She never asked why I was home. With a sigh, I headed to the kitchen, grabbed a snack, and went to my den to settle in and stream something.

One thing that hasn't changed... Julie still calls me by my given name...Bjorn...Bjorn Iversen. I don't mind my name anymore, but I wasn't too fond of it when I was young. I much preferred being called Bear, and still do. Other than Julie, the only people who use my given name are family back in Norway, where of course it means 'bear'.

I still remember one of my clients' children meeting me for the first time. She was about seven years old and when I'd shown up, she had said loudly and with a child's innocence,

"He's not a bear!"

We all got a laugh out of that! No, despite the name, I'm a man. I'm six foot two and a bit over two hundred pounds, with light brown hair and blue eyes. I'm a bit larger than average for a man, but a lot smaller than my namesake.

My parents are both from Norway and are back there now. They came over after college on a little adventure. They had me and, after I had my undergraduate degree complete, moved back to be closer to my elderly grandparents.

My wife is Julie Webb or, as her business cards say, Julia C. Webb. She kept her maiden name when we were married for what she claimed were professional reasons. I didn't mind at the time, but looking back, I wonder if maybe I should have thought more about her motivations.

When I'm honest with myself, I'm not sure I remember her being happy much in the last ten years, at least not with me. I've had to admit to myself that Julie's first loves are her image and her career. Hell, maybe they're one and the same. She uses each of them to further the other. It appears to have worked well for her. Me? Not so much.

Even though our marriage wasn't what I'd imagined it would be, I was at least satisfied with it for the first few years. Things started getting bumpy about three years ago though. That was when I quit my first career and started my current one.

She used to show me off at various functions, I guess to impress people. Julie tells me women think I'm a good-looking guy and she played that to her advantage. But she can't even begin to describe what I do now, and even if she did, she wouldn't. It's embarrassing for her. She much preferred things before when she could say, 'This is my husband, Doctor Bjorn Iversen'.

Yes, I was, or I should say still am, a doctor. I trained and practiced as a general surgeon, but after five years of that, I realized I wanted more interaction with my patients...when they were awake...so I made the move into a family practice as a general practitioner. I'd still do the occasional surgery though. I was considered very successful.

You can imagine her reaction to me leaving the practice to pursue my current endeavor. It put her into a rage. Let's just say I haven't been to a business function with her for three years.

So, here we are. Julie insisted we buy a house in Kalorama. You guessed it, one of the richest neighborhoods in the DC metro area. The house is beautiful, but we could have gotten twice the house for half as much in another neighborhood.

Believe it or not, I make more now than I did as a general practitioner, and almost as much as when I was doing surgery. Julie has made quite a bit more than me for a few years now. No, our problem wasn't money.

Julie, or rather Julia, is a ladder climber. Once she got her MBA, she landed a job with a major international tech firm. As I was finishing up my residency, she was already working on her third promotion. I was either working or sleeping, but looking back, I think the signs were showing. Even back then, I wasn't her first love...her career held that honor.

Now she's in charge of the eastern half of the United States in her division, and I have no doubt she's not done climbing yet. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of her accomplishments. But I want the girl I met back. Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder how that's going to happen.

So here I sit, mulling this over for the umpteenth time. I've tried talking, suggested counseling, and tried to reignite the old passion. Nothing works. I don't want to give up. Despite all this, I still love her...a lot. I just don't like her much right now.

I'm brought out of my reverie by the muffled sounds of laughter coming from the great room. It makes me smile to imagine what must be going on. I'm hopeful that Julie is still in there somewhere and hasn't been totally supplanted by Julia.

"Bjorn."

"Bjorn."

My name being spoken pulls me up from my sleep. I come to my senses slowly and for a second can't remember where I am. As the fog lifts, I open my eyes.

Wow!

I swallow hard. I'm seeing a lot more of Julie than I have in months! She's wearing...well...not much. Some kind of see-through, white teddy, I think. I'm more focused on what it's showing...accentuating...than what it's called.

It's been a while since I had a chance to admire her body. She's stayed in superb shape and works hard at it. If I didn't know, I'd never guess she was in her late thirties. She carries her one-hundred and twenty pounds well on her five foot, seven frame. Julie is more athletically built than curvy, and it makes her b-cup breasts appear bigger than they are.

I can't help but notice her small, normally pale-pink nipples are red and hard with excitement. My eyes take in the rest of her; most of her weight is on her left leg and her hands are on her hips. Almost a pose.

I look up at her brown eyes...her dark brown hair in its short, almost pixie cut that she's had since I've known her...I note the little grin she has at my surprised face. Julie lifts her right hand and crooks her finger in the sign for 'come here'. Before I can move, she spins and heads toward the door to my den, her ass moving in ways that are making my already hardening cock swell even faster. I can tell she's exaggerating the sway of her narrow-ish hips.