Chapter Three
Carol’s house was a small two-story yellow clapboard with the luxury of an enclosed garage. It sat almost precisely in the
middle of their small neighborhood, which consisted of Myra Road—barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other—and the
three narrow, short roads that connected to it. Mature spruces and flowering shrubbery decorated the half-acre yard. In back
was a small vegetable garden that Carol tended during the summer, but the plants had already ceased production and were brown
and drooping.
Sela’s house, tucked at the rear of the neighborhood and more private because of groups, either strategic or lucky, of spruce
and fir trees that blocked most of the view of her neighbor to the left—and she had no neighbor to the right, because she
was at the end of the road—was smaller and didn’t have a garage. She did, however, have a much larger screened-in porch, one
she used a lot, often having her breakfast out there where she could see Cove Mountain looming over the valley. With the way
the road curved, her house was close to the store and in fact she sometimes walked there and back, using a path that was wide
enough for an ATV, rather than driving; walking it was not quite half a mile, while driving meant turning back toward the
highway, and added a couple of miles. The back way, as they called it, was a favorite cut-through of kids and grown-ups alike,
bypassing the highway and offering a good place to ride bikes and generally be a kid. There were large shade trees, a lazy
stream or two in which to cool off, picnic beside, or try to catch frogs and darting little fish. She loved walking the trail
in winter, especially in the snow when everything was so silent and pristine, the only sound that of her boots crunching in
the snow, the only movement that of the occasional bird. The back way skirted properties, dipped and curved, and gave an occasional
glimpse of a house. She was more wary during the warm months because of the bears, as were all the locals. The Smokies and
black bears went hand in hand.
They lived in the middle of a gorgeous, peaceful scene, which made the impending catastrophe seem like a tall tale one of
the local old men might spin while sitting in one of the service stations, telling yarns with his buddies.
The three of them entered the coolness of the house and, without asking, Carol got a couple of glasses from the cabinet, put
some ice in them, and poured tea from a full pitcher she took from the refrigerator. The three of them took their seats around
the table in the eat-in kitchen.
Olivia fished her tablet out of her backpack and turned it on—then she turned a stricken expression on her older relatives.
“Will this still work . . . you know, after?”
They all looked at each other. Finally Sela lifted her shoulders. “It should. I think. Except for going online. You’ll be
able to access anything that’s already on there, as long as you don’t have it plugged in when the CME hits. Make sure it’s
charged before then.” She hoped she was right. The thing was, no one knew for sure, because a CME this powerful hadn’t hit
since the dawn of the electronic age.
Olivia paused, then turned off the tablet and returned it to her backpack and instead got a pad of paper and pen from the
kitchen counter, where Carol kept a running grocery list. “This won’t run down my battery,” she said matter-of-factly.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Sela and Carol both chuckled. A lot of people would be coming to the same conclusion
very soon, if they hadn’t already done so.
Olivia wrote a big “1” on the paper. “So, what should we do first?”
“Shelter and food are the most important,” Sela said. “And we’ve got that covered, as best we can.” But there wasn’t enough
food, not for the duration if it lasted a year or longer, and maybe not even enough to last until next summer when the gardens
would be producing again. “I’ll get more food if I can, though. If we have enough, we’ll share with the neighbors.”
“You should move in here with us,” Carol said firmly. “We’ll be sharing supplies anyway. That way there’ll be just one house
to heat.”
Carol’s proposal was pure common sense, but Sela’s stomach tightened at the thought of moving in with them. She liked being
alone, liked the quiet. She’d never been a social butterfly, but since her divorce she seemed to need even more alone time.
Adam’s betrayal and rejection had shredded both her courage and her self-confidence; building herself back took a lot of time
and thinking, of just being. For a while after returning to Wears Valley to live, she’d barely been able to make herself leave the house; only the necessity
of earning a living had spurred her on.
She wasn’t adventurous. She didn’t like putting herself forward. She’d never had the yearning to do anything risky, and her
refusal to do so had eventually led to Adam feeling nothing but disgust for her. She wouldn’t try strange foods, she wouldn’t
go snow skiing even though Adam loved it, and she didn’t like for him to drive fast. She liked the idea of foreign travel, but when it came to actually planning a trip, she began thinking of everything that could go wrong and
would eventually back out.
She didn’t blame Adam for leaving her. She blamed herself for being such a nothing-burger. Right now she wanted to refuse
Carol’s invitation/command, but the truth was that as much as she liked being alone, she wasn’t certain she could cope without
electricity.
There was the sound of a car turning in the driveway, and Carol craned to the side to look out the living room window. “It’s
Barb.”
Barb Finley was Carol’s best friend and had been for years, even before they had each been widowed. Barb was a few years older,
and the two women looked as if they’d have nothing in common. Where Carol was lean, Barb was fluffy. Carol had that dashing
pink streak in her hair, while Barb kept her white hair severely styled. Carol was style, Barb was comfort. But the two got
along like a house on fire, and spent hours cooking together and gossiping and laughing. Sometimes Sela would take Olivia
for a week and the two older women would take off for the Outer Banks. Olivia had gone with them once, and after their return
had whispered to Sela that no matter what she never wanted to do that again, so Sela earned bonus points from both Carol and Olivia for stepping up and taking Olivia
while the two friends went gallivanting off on their adventures.
Carol went to the front door and opened it. “Come on in,” she called. “We’re making a list of what we need to do.” Then she
returned to the kitchen to get down another glass for iced tea.
Barb’s expression was tense as she came in the door. She was limping a little, and there was an elastic bandage around her
left ankle. “What happened to your ankle?” Sela asked, getting up and moving to the other side of the table so Barb could
take her chair, which was closest to her.
“Turned it this morning when I was cutting the grass.” She sank onto the chair and wrapped her hands around the glass of tea
that Carol set in front of her, but didn’t drink. She took a deep breath and her eyes filled with tears. “Is this”—she gave
a distracted wave that appeared to include the universe—“thing really going to happen? I don’t know what to do. If there’s no electricity my security system won’t work; anyone can break
in with no warning, and I won’t be able to call for help, either. Our cars will run out of gas, there won’t be enough food,
I don’t have a fireplace for heat and can’t cut firewood anyway—”
“You’ll move in here,” Carol promptly said, breaking into Barb’s panicked litany though she darted a concerned look at Sela
even as she said it. She gave Carol a small nod, telling her it was okay she’d asked Barb instead. Okay? Sela was downright
relieved.
Barb’s face crumpled with relief. “Really? Is there room?” She looked at Sela. “I thought you’d—”
“No, I’m staying in my house,” Sela said firmly. “Carol and I are combining supplies and I’ll eat here, but I’m sleeping at
home.”
“Won’t you be safer here?” Bless her, despite her deep gratitude at being invited to stay with Carol, she was persistent in
trying to take care of Sela, too.
“I’ll be as safe as I’ve ever been, living alone,” Sela said practically. She had a small portable generator, but it made
more sense to move it to Carol’s house since three people would be here, and she herself would mostly be here except for the
nights. She would keep warm with her wood-burning fireplace for heat, backed up by her kerosene heater. She’d be stingy with
the heater because she didn’t have an unlimited supply of kerosene . . . and that reminded her they should get down to business.
In a pinch, she could share a room with Olivia or Carol, but that would be a last resort. She needed her own space.
She tapped Olivia’s sheet of paper. “Number two: we need more wood. Oh crap! I forgot about getting gas and kerosene! I’ll
fill a few five-gallon cans at the store, so we’ll have enough on hand to run the generator until we use everything in the
fridge and freezer, but we have to buy kerosene.”
Olivia dutifully wrote it down, and the three older women looked at each other with worry in their eyes. Everyone else would
be thinking the same thing, and the window for acquiring those supplies was rapidly closing.
“Dear God,” Sela said, getting to her feet. “I need to be working on that right now.”
“I’ll help,” Carol said, also rising. “First things first. Barb, go back to your house and get what you want, bring it back
here. Olivia, go with her to help. Bring all your food, Barb, batteries, flashlights, oil lamps—”
“And ammunition and whiskey,” Sela added, with a quick smile at her aunt.
“I don’t have any ammunition,” Barb said smartly, and smiled. “Get all the produce you can grab, and we’ll work all night
canning it. I have lots of jars and lids. I meant to put up a lot of food this summer but always found something more fun
to do. That’ll teach me.”