"Are you sure about this son?"<br/>Matthew's father, Hugh, asked.<br/>His son nodded confidently, stuffing a few cans of food into his green, US Army Duffle Bag, his "bug-out bag".<br/>"I can handle it dad."<br/>he assured.<br/>"But there are plenty of people out there who most certainly can't."<br/>he crammed a can of Chef-Boyardee Ravioli into the bag and reclosed, grunting as hefted the large bag.<br/>"Alright then, but if you can't handle it you get back here ok? We need you here."<br/>Hugh said.<br/>Matthew nodded solemnly,<br/>"I will. I love you dad."<br/>He opened the door and stepped outside.<br/>"I love you too son."<br/>his dad called after him. As his son climbed into the hunter-green Toyota Tacoma, he nervously ran a hand through his thinning, wavy white hair.<br/>The truck started, pulled out of its parking spot next to the two-story cabin and disappeared down the gravel driveway...