Joshua took a quick bite, and then continued. “Dustin does not suffer bullies or fools at all. The other two, who were holding the blanket, saw the trend and decided that they did not want any part of Bunkhouse Justice 101, and promptly left. Dustin and I helped the kid up and asked him if he was okay. His name was Ken Layton, and ever since he’s been one of my best long-distance friends. All three of us got to be great friends over those three weeks at camp. Ken told us all about drive trains and differential ratios, which started my long and expensive hobby of off roading. Turns out that Ken could also shoot pretty well, too. On the .22 range, he consistently took the top scores even with those old worn-out bolt action rifles. I’m getting long-winded here, but Ken went back to his house in Chicago and Dustin and I faithfully wrote back and forth with Ken for years, first by snail mail, and later by e-mail. Ken later met a guy named Todd Gray, who planted the seed with Dustin and me on preparedness.”

“Preparedness?” Megan was nearly finished with her lunch and Joshua had not really touched his, but she was enjoying his story.

“It’s the concept of redundant options. It’s like insurance.”

“I’ve heard of that.” Megan figured it was time to lay a marker on the table here. “I first realized that the world was not capable of growing exponentially ad infinitum when I came across a link on the website peakprosperity.com called The Crash Course by Chris Martenson.”

Joshua asked, “You like Chris Martenson, too?”

“Indeed,” Megan said. “He made too much sense to ignore. I just wish that I had started listening to him years ago. Eric was into guns, but not prepping. They are not coterminous.”

“I’ve got to say that the whole idea of one rifle and a backpack in the woods or a pallet of MREs and a box of ammo in Laurel, Maryland, are dangerous myths.”

“Guns are useful tools, but I figure that they truly solve very few problems in and of themselves. That’s why Malorie and I have been studying all we can with permaculture and how to produce nutrient-dense food reliably in quantity. You may want to add the ‘survival seed pack’ to that list of dangerous myths. You’ve seen how crazy it gets when Snowpocalypse hits the D.C. area every other winter.”

“When I-95 or I-70 closes, there aren’t enough supplies on the shelf, the trucks can’t get through to deliver more, and people panic. All of this happens in the good times when there is law and order present.”

Megan knew that Joshua was speaking honestly and even reluctantly about things that most people never got to hear about, so she was careful to sound empathetic. “You’re correct: Batteries, flashlights, camping gear, toilet paper, disposable diapers, and bottled water are all the first to go.”

“That’s right. In law enforcement we see this all the time, even if most cops never put all of these philosophical thoughts together into a coherent concept. We still see incrementally the best and worst in society.”

The conversation was moving at a brisk pace and Megan was fully engaged now. She asked, “That is what some would call the creep of ‘positive law.’ When the government becomes the guarantor of all things, then they must enforce law positively; that is to say, ‘The Constitution is a living document, the law is whatever we say it is, subject to change at any time.’ When that happens, there is no other end result but that the haves are systematically robbed by degree until wealth redistribution becomes ‘economic justice’ and legitimate civil rights are exchanged for ‘social justice.’”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Joshua replied. “Sounds like you and I have been reading the same books! Then, in times of relative peace, we hardly notice the thin veneer of cordial civil conduct, and all it takes is one natural disaster like an ice storm and fights break out over disposable diapers, flashlights, or bottled water.”

Joshua continued. “Here’s a better question: How many cops does society need when we reject God’s law? I liked the term that you mentioned, ‘positive law’; I think that it explains a lot. We are all trading away our legitimate rights for what the government claims that they can provide for us—security. This is false and it preys upon man’s deepest fear of the unknown, and I consider myself a hawk. There is no way to have just law outside of God’s revelation, but modern society is way too enlightened to be bothered with ‘thou shalts and thou shalt nots,’ so we degrade into what we want. The trouble is that there is no referee to decide whose wants are correct and it inevitably deteriorates to a power struggle. So in the Congo, six million people have died over the inability to agree, tens of thousands in the Darfur region, and yet our callous government could care less. All the while our government is more concerned with the Facebook posts of Americans than Iran’s nuclear weapons development.”

Megan nodded. “I agree; the legitimate offensive parts of our government seem to be shifting focus from international to domestic.”

After letting that sink in, Megan continued. “Take your example of who is defined as good and bad according to the law: Heck, you and I are probably guilty of violating a dozen laws every day that we don’t even know about. And what if someday my Christian homeschooling resource web search—all permanently archived on some server—is classified as a ‘hate search’ because it’s Christian and outside of the liberal public fool system? They can reach back in time and start to use the force of law to prosecute me because the ‘moving target,’ as you put it, shifted to make the ‘Christian Right’ into Public Enemy Number One. You think that I’m kidding?”

“No, I don’t,” Joshua said. “I did read that article, and it’s getting harder and harder to tell the good guys from the bad guys. So far this ‘Global War on a Noun’ has only proved how much money we can spend; I don’t believe that it has solved anything other than to manage crises by in-box, spin up the abhorrent DHS, and put tens of thousands more people on the government payroll.”

“Right! And the deterioration of society is marked with waypoints like Nanny Bloomberg wanting to ban salt, oversize sodas, and trans fats, all the while presiding over a city government that’s bankrupt financially and morally.”

Megan shifted in her chair and glanced around the room, just now realizing that her enthrallment with Joshua and the animated conversation had left her completely unaware of her surroundings—who was sitting where, who might be listening. In her line of work, her peripheral vision was like a sixth sense, and she realized at this moment just how much she liked Joshua, to have ignored the world around her with such abandonment.

“Joshua, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, but it’s almost time for me to get back to work.”

“Sure,” Joshua said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get to hear more from you. I kinda felt like I was doing all of the talking there. May I take your tray?”

As Megan stood up she said, “Yes, thank you. I really enjoyed this, can we do it again?”

“Of course! How about next Tuesday?” Joshua wanted to try out his new developing sense of sarcasm as he held the door open for Megan. “If you like chicken, how about we try eating at ‘Cluck U’?”

•   •   •

Joshua and Megan had decided to continue meeting for lunch a few times a week. After a month of this Joshua phoned his “brother” Dustin Hodges in Kentucky to tell him about Megan. After going through their usual list of topics of sports scores and getting ready for bow season this year, Joshua broached the subject of Megan and described her circumstances, personality, and worldview.

“Sounds like she has her head on straight. You obviously have a deep interest in her. What are your thoughts?”

Joshua knew that he could fool a lot of people, but Dustin was not one of them. He paused before saying, “That’s just it. She is not like most of the ladies at work. We’ve been having lunch together now for a while, and I can sense that there is some real hurt under the surface. I’m not sure if I am man enough to help her. I mean, the ex-husband, the two boys, her sister . . .”