Chapter Two
Sela was in the grocery store before she realized that except for canned soup and more instant coffee, she had little idea
what to get to prepare for such a long time without power. Even more disconcerting, the store wasn’t particularly crowded.
Surely something of this magnitude couldn’t be kept secret, even though there hadn’t been the official announcement that she’d
expected to see on her phone or on the radio or even an emergency siren sounding on the town’s loudspeakers. So whatever was
going to happen—if it was going to happen—not many people knew about it yet.
She started to bypass the produce section. There was no need to buy anything perishable. But still, as she passed the bananas
she grabbed a bunch. They’d get eaten in the next couple of days, and damn it, if Jernigan was right they might not be able
to get bananas for a while. And oranges. They’d need the vitamin C.
It had to be a false alarm. She prayed it was a false alarm, that nothing at all was going to happen. Halfway down the aisle
she thought, “Bull, I’m not doing this,” and turned around to replace the bananas and oranges because no way could she just
walk off and leave a shopping cart for someone else to deal with, but then Jernigan’s grim face flashed to mind and her heart
started pounding and she returned to shopping. What would a couple of years’ supply of canned chicken hurt, anyway?
Something about him inspired trust. Even though she couldn’t say she actually believed a catastrophe was going to happen,
because he said it would she had to tilt to at least 60/40 in his favor.
What did one buy when faced with the end of the world as she knew it? Chocolate?
At the end of the aisle, with nothing but bananas and oranges in her cart, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and searched
“survivalist necessities.” Several prepper websites came up, and she picked the top one, which provided a long list of specialty
items she couldn’t possibly find in Kroger. The second site she chose was more practical, for her current situation.
Bleach, matches, water, candles . . . Okay, those were doable, and not even unusual. There were several items on the prepper’s
list that were more camping gear than anything she was going to find in a grocery store, but there were also some practical
suggestions. She might be able to find some of the more expensive survivalist items at an outdoor goods store, but there was
nothing close, and besides . . . this was just in case.
Prepare for the worst, expect the best. In this case, expect nothing.
She grabbed more toilet paper and canned meats—Spam, salmon, chicken, beef, multiples of each. Four big jars of peanut butter
wouldn’t last long, so she made it six. She made a quick trip down the feminine hygiene aisle, then got some first-aid items:
aspirin, antiseptic cream, bandages, Vaseline. She grabbed anything that looked like it might be useful, as she walked through
the pharmacy section. While waiting for Carol’s prescription refills, she made another trip up and down the aisles, got more
adhesive bandages, and an Ace bandage. More adhesive bandages. Another Ace bandage. No, make that three.
By the time the prescriptions were ready, her shopping cart was full.
She looked at the collection of stuff and blew out a big breath. She’d gotten only things they’d eventually use anyway, so
she didn’t feel bad about her shopping spree. She had hedged her bets and done something. Did she have enough supplies for
several months? No. Was she better off than she’d been when she’d started? Absolutely.
According to the sites she’d checked out, she should have a water filtration system for safe drinking water, heirloom seeds
for growing her own food next summer, and enough freeze-dried food to get her by until then. She didn’t.
Jernigan probably did, though.
When she checked out she paid with a credit card. Nothing she’d bought was very expensive, but she wanted to conserve her
cash.
If they were without power for months, would cash be any good? Perhaps. As long as people saw value in pieces of green paper,
it would be. Cash would be a way to get items they needed and didn’t have. The bank was on her mental list of places she needed
to go. She’d withdraw a nice bunch of cash from both her personal and the store account. If nothing happened she could re-deposit
the money in a couple of days.
Feeling like a crazed squirrel, she darted from place to place, completing one errand after another.
As she drove home just after lunch, exhausted from the stress of hurry hurry hurry, she suffered a passing second thought.
If Jernigan had been pulling her leg, if he was crazy, or even, hell, if he’d just been given bad information . . . she was
going to be so pissed, maybe even pissed enough to get in his face and tell him about it, though confrontation wasn’t her
style at all.
But if disaster did strike, she’d really be pissed because obviously anyone in the electric energy business should have known
this was possible and taken steps to make sure it didn’t happen. Yes, definitely pissed, and deeply grateful, because without
the chance to prepare she would’ve been in no better shape than anyone else. As she drove back into Wears Valley she glanced
toward Cove Mountain. “Thanks,” she said aloud. “I think.”
Carol rolled her eyes a bit at Sela’s haul of groceries, but helped her get everything organized. “You think you got enough
Spam?” She busied herself stacking the oblong cans, her lips twitching in a smile.
“I’ll remind you that you said that, if this thing happens and you run out of food. Besides, I got stuff that we can put on
the store shelves if nothing happens.” Sela and Carol both knew that whatever one of them had belonged to the other, too,
because family took care of family. If Sela had Spam, then Carol had Spam.
They got the supplies divided, added things from the shelving, and Carol loaded everything into her car to take to their respective
houses. Customers came and went, enough that Sela stayed busy, and none of them looked worried or said anything about an imminent
disaster. Carol returned, and went into the office to watch TV while Sela puttered around cleaning, straightening, waiting
on customers. The old-fashioned Kitty-Cat clock on the wall, which she kept because she liked the swinging tail, clicked past
one p.m. Surely if anything was going to happen whoever was in charge of getting out the warning would have gotten it done already.
With every passing second her doubt grew stronger, and she began feeling more and more like a gullible fool. Word should be
getting out—if there was any word—around the world. Astronomers would know, NOAA would know and might even have it up on their
website, in which case Twitter and all the other social media platforms should be exploding with the news . . . if there was
any news. If, if, if! Maybe she should go to the NOAA site herself and see if anything was there—
The store was empty of customers and she was just reaching for her phone when it sounded a high-pitched alarm, like that for
violent storms. She jumped and automatically turned to look out the window, just as she had when Jernigan had first mentioned
an emergency, but the sky was still a beautiful September clear blue. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Her mind raced with other possibilities. It could be an Amber Alert, or a monthly test. There were plenty of options, but
her heart was suddenly pounding and she knew damn well it wasn’t any of the usual emergencies that caused the alarm. From
the office, where Carol was watching TV, she heard Carol’s cell phone start bleating its own alert and the hairs on the back
of her neck stood up.
She grabbed the phone from beneath the counter and there it was on the screen, the alert she had both doubted and expected.
She and Carol both got their alerts via Sevier County’s CodeRED system, so she knew Carol was reading the same thing: NOAA ALERT GEOMAGNETIC STORM K-INDEX 9 PREDICTED 3PM TOMORROW. PREPARE FOR EXTENDED POWER AND COMMUNICATION DISRUPTION.
Another alert, another message flashing on the screen: THIS IS NOT A TEST. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A TEST.
Carol came out of the office, clutching her phone, her eyes wide. “Shit,” she said softly.
Sela’s mouth was abruptly dry and she tried to swallow. She leaned against the counter. “Double shit.”
“I take it back about the Spam.”
Twenty-four hours. They had approximately twenty-four hours in which to prepare, which meant Jernigan had been right not only
about the danger but about the timing. Good God. What could they possibly do in just twenty-four hours that would get them
through an “extended power disruption”? They needed months to get ready for something like this.
“Looks like you were right to listen to Jernigan,” Carol added. Her eyes looked a little wild, and her face had lost color.
“Holy moly. But—they could be wrong, couldn’t they? I mean, it could be like the big thunderstorms or ice storms they predict
that never happen. We could dodge a bullet, isn’t that what the weathermen always say when they’re wrong?”
“I don’t think a geomagnetic storm is like Earth weather, where a system can slow down or break apart.” She wished that could
happen, but she wasn’t going to bet her life—or Carol’s and Olivia’s lives—on it. Her stomach clenched as she was overwhelmed
by a sense of urgency, an adrenaline shock as her primitive survival instincts kicked in. Thank God, despite her doubts, she’d
gone to the bank and the grocery store before everyone else knew what was going on. “Think! What else do we need to do to
prepare?”
Carol just gave her a blank look. “I thought we were already prepared.”
“We’re a little better off than a lot of people, thanks to Jernigan. We have food. But what about wood for the fireplaces
for this winter, what about oil for lamps? I meant to get oil and forgot. I picked up some candles, some batteries. If this
goes on for a year or more—”
“A year!” Carol looked horrified. “You don’t think—that isn’t possible, is it?”