Dysphoria Read online

  CLICK HERE to be notified when new books by Mark Goodwin are released!

  For information on preparing for natural or man-made disasters, visit the author’s website, PrepperRecon.com and

  click here to request your free copy of The Seven Step Survival Plan.

  Technical information in the book is included to convey realism. The author shall not have liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused, or allegedly caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  All of the characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Goodwin America Corp.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote short passages in a review.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my Editor-in-Chief Catherine Goodwin, as well as the rest of my fantastic editing team, Jeff Markland, Frank Shackleford, Stacey Glemboski, Sherrill Hesler, and Claudine Allison.

  A special thanks to Captain Manny Bande NYPD ESU Retired for consultation on all things tactical and police procedural.

  I’d also like to say thank you to Dan Hesler for medical advice.

  PROLOGUE

  Thy silver is become dross, thy wine mixed with water.

  Isaiah1:22

  US economic policy of late has been all about political posturing and nothing about long-term sustainability. But, to be fair to our noble politicians on both sides of the aisle, the ship of long-term sustainability sailed long ago.

  Economists refer to the rare events that trigger financial chaos as black swans. Swans are usually white, and seeing a black swan is less common. Nevertheless, black swans exist and perhaps in greater quantities than the economists’ analogy would lead us to believe. It is estimated that the global population of black swans is near 500,000, not quite worthy of the endangered species list. Likewise, catastrophic financial upheaval is a regular occurrence, and the policies that trigger them are the rule more often than the exception.

  At the time of this writing, the US Debt is at $23 trillion and the annual deficit is $1 trillion. Politicians who dare to address the matter are quickly labeled as pariahs by their respective parties and shuffled to a dark corner of the room. This is a debt that can never be repaid. The best our elected leaders can hope for is to devalue the debt by abasing the currency our debt is denominated in, the US Dollar.

  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men have no better alternative than to destroy the very medium of exchange and store of value that our society is founded upon. It is the tool the Romans resorted to in order to maintain a burgeoning welfare state and finance a global military presence. It became the last-ditch effort of the Weimar Republic to escape their war and reparation debts after World War I. Russia pursued a similar policy in the 90s, Argentina in 2001, Zimbabwe in 2008, and most recently, Venezuela.

  Students of history can tell you that in none of those cases did the experiment end well. So why do governments do it? Quite literally, they have no other choice.

  The reality of US debt is even worse. Twenty-three trillion is only the tip of the iceberg. Once we add in unfunded liabilities, which consist of things like Social Security, federal pensions, and Medicare, to the tune of an additional $210 trillion, you quickly realize that the coming crisis is baked into the cake. We’ve passed the point of no return. Like a locomotive barreling at full speed down the track toward a missing bridge, when it comes, the impact will be brutal. Or, to return to the ship and iceberg analogies, the Titanic has already scraped the jagged edges, her hull is ripped open like an aluminum foil swan from a Chinese restaurant, and she’s taking on water fast. Soon, our entire economy will be rolling over into the icy waters of the abyss.

  In all of the instances listed previously, cataclysmic periods of mass starvation, violence, and rioting ensued. It would be beyond naive to imagine that the end of the US Dollar should be any different. If you have the slightest inclination toward self-preservation, now would be a magnificent time to begin making your way to the lifeboats.

  CHAPTER 1

  The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence.

  Genesis 6:11

  Stepping out onto New York City’s West 44th Street, Country music guitar legend Shane Black smelled the noxious odor of burning rubber. The year was off to a bad start. Instead of noisemakers and fireworks, the sounds of dissent and remonstration pierced the air in the first minutes of January 1st. “We’ve got about 14 blocks to get back to the hotel. Don’t stop for anything. Manhattan is coming unglued.” Holding his fiancé’s hand, Shane led his small entourage up 6th Ave.

  “Where’s my bailout? Where’s my future?” The monotonous chant of the rioters in Times Square grew fainter with each block Shane’s group passed. Yet the audible void left by the angst-filled mantra was quickly replaced by the noise of looting and vandalism.

  Shane watched hooligans smash out several first-floor windows of Rockefeller Center as his group hurried past.

  Head of security Bobby Grant did his best to keep himself between the group and any potential threats. “Let’s try moving a little faster.”

  Pointing at the flaming vehicle in front of them Shane’s fiancé, Lilith, said with a panicked voice, “That bus is on fire!”

  “I’m sure no one was inside when they lit it up.” Derrick Collum held his wife’s hand and kept walking at a steady clip.

  More ruffians smashed against the box office windows of Radio City Music Hall with tire irons and baseball bats.

  Shortly after they passed 53rd Street, a young man brushed up against Shane. “Hey bro! They just broke into the currency exchange! Come on, we might get some foreign cash that will actually buy something!”

  Shane held up a hand and kept walking. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

  With his free hand, the young man pulled down his bandana to reveal his expression of mock surprise. “You’re good? What? You don’t need any more money?” The looter yelled to his colleagues, “Hey guys, I think we just found some one-percenters.” He waved for his comrades to join him while his other hand held a length of metal pipe.

  Several of the thugs who were obviously in his crew stopped what they were doing and began to circle around Shane’s group. All held various items which could be used as weapons.

  Completely unarmed, Shane eyed the collection of tire irons, baseball bats, and pieces of metal pipe. He put himself between Lilith and the thugs, wondering how they’d ever get out of this situation alive.

  ***

  Nine Days Earlier, December 23

  Shane glanced over at Lilith then turned his attention back to the highway. Two lines on the otherwise-white-powdered pavement showed the path of the travelers who’d gone before them. The flakes grew larger and even from the elevated cab of the 4x4 GMC Sierra Denali, visibility was deteriorating fast. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

  “Relax!” she exclaimed. “I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve met plenty of people like your parents. Trust me, my good-girl act is pretty convincing. I even brought church clothes for Christmas Eve service.

  “Tell me, what’s the church like? Is it a little white church with stained glass and a steeple, like on a Christmas card?”

  He sighed. “Not exactly. The church finally got its own building. It used to be an Ingles grocery store. When Publix finally came to the area, they pushed grocers with high prices and poor selections out of the market.”

  “A grocery store? You’re kidding me!” She slapped his leg.

  “No. Before that, they were renting space in a school.”

  “No way. Like your parents think they’re too good for a regular church?”

  Shane laughed at her interpretation of the facts. “Not too good, but they see things differently than most churches around town. Don’t judge them before you’ve met them. They’re really nice folks.”

  She crossed her arms. “And I suppose you’ve asked them not to judge me, right?”

  “They’re not like that. They’ll love on you, even if they don’t approve of our . . . living arrangement.”

  “Mmhmm. I’m the harlot who seduced their perfect little boy into living in sin.”

  Shane watched the flurries melting against the windshield. “I just hope we don’t get snowed in. Three days of sleeping in separate rooms is about all I can handle.”

  “Maybe I’ll sneak into your room.” She bit her red-polished fingernail and put on her bedroom eyes.

  He shook his head adamantly. “Oh, no! Don’t even think about it. My mom will know.”

  “Are you still scared of your mommy? You’re thirty-five years old and the lead guitarist for the biggest country band in America. Which, by the way, most parents would die to have a son as successful as you.”

  “I’m not afraid of them, but I respect their rules when I’m in their house.”

  “Whatever.” Lilith flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder and began pecking at the screen of her phone with her nails. “Getting snowed in isn’t an option anyway. We have to be in Times Square for New Year’s Eve. You guys are the only country music headliners this year. I had to pull a lot of strings and issue some IOUs to get Backwoods on the ticket. It’s not like we can j
ust reschedule for next year.”

  Lilith glanced up from her phone. “You never told me why a prominent CPA like your father would sell his practice in Charlotte and move to some little hick town in the North Carolina mountains. What did you say the name of this place is?”

  “Sylva. It’s a long story.”

  “It’s a long trip from Nashville to the middle of nowhere. I’ve got time.”

  Shane took a deep breath and considered how to relay the information to Lilith without making his parents sound like lunatics. “Do you remember the Y2K bug, the computer glitch that was supposed to cause all the disruptions in the year 2000?”

  “I was six, so no, I don’t remember much about that year.”

  “Well, my dad was convinced the wheels were going to come off. Most people who understood the problem say we narrowly missed a catastrophic event. My dad wanted a place where we could be safe and take care of ourselves. Grow our own food, that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t understand. The year 2000 was a long time ago. Why did he keep your family out in the middle of the sticks for the next two decades?”

  “They liked the lifestyle. And according to my dad, Y2K was only the beginning of the systemic threats.”

  “Watch out!” Lilith screamed.

  Shane took his foot off of the gas and fought his natural inclination to slam on the brakes. He steered away from the car in front of him, which had hit a patch of ice. The car spun out of control. The vehicle seemed to be regaining control, but suddenly fishtailed into Shane’s pickup, then slid off the shoulder and down the embankment.

  Shane slowly pulled to the side of the road. He looked at Lilith. “Are you alright?”

  “Frightened is all.” Lilith shot a look of disdain at the vehicle in the ditch. “People shouldn’t be driving their little Walmart cars around in this kind of weather.”

  “Walmart cars?”

  “Yeah.” She waved her hand at the older-model Pontiac Sunbird with faded paint. “These things litter the parking lots of Walmarts all over the country, not that I’d go to Walmart anyway.”

  “I’m going to see if they’re okay.” Shane opened his door.

  “Get their insurance info, if they even have any. The front quarter panel of your truck is a mess.”

  Shane closed the door and walked carefully in the snow. Cowboy boots offered little in the traction department.

  The late-twenties woman in the driver’s seat rolled down her window. “I’m so sorry about your truck!”

  Shane leaned on the top of the car and glanced back at the mangled fender of his Sierra. “It’s just a scratch. Are you folks okay?”

  The woman looked at the little girl in the passenger’s seat and the toddler boy in the back car seat. “We’re fine.”

  Shane saw no ring on the woman’s finger and figured she was raising the two kids on her own. “I wish I had a tow strap. I’d pull you out.”

  “I’ll call a tow truck. And I suppose we should call the police, right?”

  Shane guessed the woman could ill afford a tow truck or an increase in insurance premiums due to a wreck. “I don’t see a need for all of that.”

  “But your truck, my insurance will pay for it.”

  “Like I said, it’s just a scratch. It’ll probably buff out. And let me call a tow truck for you.” Shane took out his phone to search for a tow company.

  “Mama, you know who that is, don’t you?” The little girl looked to be nine or ten years old.

  “No, honey.” The woman looked closer at Shane.

  “It’s Shane Black, from Backwoods. Can we take your picture?”

  Shane smiled. “Let me finish this call, and we’ll get a couple of selfies together.”

  The little girl rushed out of the car with her mother’s phone. She waited patiently for Shane to give his credit card information to the tow company. Once he completed the call, she said with exuberance, “My friends at school are never going to believe this. I write my own songs, you know. Mama’s going to get me a guitar for Christmas, and I’m going to move to Nashville when I get older.”

  The mother’s face looked tired. “I said I’d get you a guitar sometime. It might not be this year, baby. Things are tight.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll have more songs written by next Christmas anyway.” The little girl smiled and snapped several pictures with Shane. “I have this month’s Country Music People magazine with Backwoods on the cover. Will you sign it for me?”

  Shane thrilled at the spirited young girl who refused to be daunted by her circumstances. “Sure, baby. I think I might have a Sharpie in the truck.”

  Shane returned to his vehicle and opened the back door. “Can you pass me the marker in the console?”

  Lilith handed him the Sharpie. “Why are you getting out your guitar? You gonna play Jingle Bells on the side of the road?”

  “No. I’m gonna give it to that little girl.”

  “You’re going to give her a $5,000.00 custom guitar? Does she even know how to play?”

  “She’ll learn.” He closed the door and brought the case to the girl. “Merry Christmas.”

  The little girl seemed to stop breathing for a moment. She looked at her mother as if asking for permission.

  The mother’s eyes welled up with tears first, then the little girl’s did likewise.

  Shane hugged her close and recommended YouTube for getting started with the basics.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, the tow truck pulled the mother’s car free from snow. Shane waved as he pulled away. “Y’all be safe. Merry Christmas.” He rolled up the window and continued the trip home.

  “I can’t believe we had to wait for the tow truck!” Lilith protested. “You know, you’re really good at being a star, it’s just that you do it at all the wrong times, when it doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like this right here, if we’d had a camera rolling, that would have been great PR. But sometimes it’s like you’re allergic to success.”

  “Backwoods has won four Country Music Awards in five years. How do you figure?”

  “Like this CMT interview when we get back from New York. Why is it just Derrick? You were invited to participate, but you turned it down.”

  “Derrick is the front man. He gets paid more than the rest of us. It’s part of his job to be the public face.”

  “I appreciate that you’re a nice guy, Shane, but you’re also very naive. The way things are going, Derrick Collum could go on tour tomorrow, and no one would ever bat an eye at it not being Backwoods.”

  “Derrick would never do that to us.”

  “If Bridgett starts pushing him in that direction, who do you think he’ll choose to disappoint, his wife-slash-manager or his bandmates?”

  “Bridgett is the band’s manager, not Derrick’s.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” Lilith reapplied her lipstick.

  “Did Bridgett say something to you?”

  “No. But if she did, we’d still be friends because Bridgett and I understand the business side of things.”

  “Why did you have to put this in my head right before Christmas?” Shane grumbled.

  “It’s reality, hun. Nashville might have a sweet veneer, but just below the surface, it’s as cut-throat as any other big city; maybe even more so. The music industry is as mean as it gets. You need to stay on your guard.”

  Shane didn’t want to be keyed up, wondering when he’d be stabbed in the back by his closest friends. And he certainly wanted to hear no more about it from Lilith. He turned on the radio and scrolled through for some traditional Christmas tunes.

  Four songs played, then the station cut to a news break.

  “Investors aren’t getting what they asked for this year on the last trading day before Christmas. Rather than the much-anticipated Santa Clause rally so many analysts have predicted, investors are getting lumps of coal. Trading was halted for fifteen minutes shortly after open this morning when the Dow Jones dropped more than 2000 points and the S&P lost just under 300 points. Since reopening, the bloodletting has continued with the Dow currently sitting at 3,500 points below yesterday’s close and the S&P down by 560 points. This puts the markets precariously close to triggering the second circuit breaker for the day, which would suspend trading for another fifteen minutes. From there, if markets drop another seven percent, they’ll be closed for the remainder of the day.