Chapter 18
Charlotte slid the last letter into the final mailbox, and a heavy sense of unease settled on her shoulders.
The withered gardens, drawn curtains, and quiet conversations about government alerts painted a troubling picture she couldn’t shake.
She glanced at her watch. It was just after three.
She had finished her route early, but the streets felt uncomfortably empty.
Still, all she could think about was getting back to the post office and racing home to Sophia.
As Charlotte climbed into the postal truck and pulled away toward the main road, a nagging worry tugged at her.
On a typical day, she might have savored the drive, but her instincts screamed for her to get home swiftly.
Halfway to the post office, she spotted something unsettling.
The gas station at Maple and Crestview had a long line of cars extending from the pumps into the street.
Peering through the windows, she saw customers anxiously lining up with bottled water, batteries, and flashlights.
A woman hurriedly pushed canned goods toward the register, all bearing that familiar look of panic.
It vividly reminded Charlotte of the early days of the pandemic, when urgency hung in the air and everyone sensed that time was slipping away.
What left her feeling even more uneasy was that, unlike before, there was no clear threat to prepare for, only a growing uncertainty that hung over them all.
Charlotte accelerated past the gas station and tried to focus on getting back to the post office, but the sight unsettled her.
Then she turned onto Main Street and saw another gas station with the same long line and a grocery store parking lot more crowded than she’d ever seen it.
At the next intersection, traffic slowed to a crawl.
A delivery truck sat double-parked in front of the pharmacy, and ahead, a police officer stood beside a cruiser speaking into his radio.
Something was happening. The signs were everywhere, from the gas lines to the packed parking lots and the tense faces on the sidewalks.
Charlotte glanced at the dashboard clock.
She knew she should have been heading back to the post office, but the truck was nearly out of gas, and if everyone else was stocking up, maybe she should, too.
She turned at the next light and headed for a Shell station a quarter mile down the road, hoping it might be less crowded.
It wasn’t. The line stretched to the street, and the store windows showed a crowd packed inside.
Charlotte parked off to the side. After she shut off the engine, she noticed a man and a woman arguing by the air pump.
“The government wouldn’t close schools over nothing,” the woman said. “My cousin in Virginia says they’ve got National Guard vehicles on the highways. That doesn’t happen for a simple air quality alert.”
“People panic over everything,” the man replied. “Remember Y2K? Half the country thought the world was ending.”
“This is different. It’s about the SNA. They’ve got something, some kind of weapon, and they’re using it now that the President’s challenged them.”
“The SNA is pulling back. That’s what the news said this morning.”
“The news,” the woman said. “You believe whatever they tell you, don’t you?”
Their voices faded as they moved away, but the argument left Charlotte cold. The SNA was the possibility she’d been trying to ignore all day. It wasn’t just a war overseas anymore. It might be coming here. She stepped out, locked the truck, and joined the line for the convenience store.
Inside, people moved with the sense that time was running out.
Carts were filled with diapers, formula, water, batteries, canned goods, and medical supplies.
Charlotte grabbed a basket and chose water, crackers, canned tuna, soup, batteries, and a first aid kit.
The total came to more than she’d meant to spend, but as she watched shelves empty around her, it felt justified.
“That’ll be fifty-seven twenty,” the cashier said. “Cash or card?”
“Card,” Charlotte said.
While she waited for the transaction to process, the television behind the counter caught her attention.
The local news was on with the volume too low to hear, but the banner was clear.
Emergency Alert. Stay Indoors. The footage showed National Guard vehicles moving along a highway.
Her card was approved, and the cashier handed back the receipt without meeting her eyes.
“Have a nice day,” she said.
Charlotte gathered her bags and pushed through the door. Outside, the gas line had grown even longer, and two men were arguing near the diesel pump.
“I’m telling you, it’s already started,” the taller man said. “My brother works at McGuire. They’re moving equipment and bringing in specialists. This isn’t a drill.”
“It’s mass hysteria,” the other man replied. “The same thing happened after 9/11. Everyone thought we were under attack.”
“Thousands of people died.”
“Not this time,” the second man said. “Not on American soil.”
“Not yet, but if what they’re saying about the SNA is true…”
Charlotte moved past them. Her phone rang as she reached the truck, and she fumbled it from her pocket. The screen showed her mother’s name.
“Mom?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Charlotte,” her mother said. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I’m at the Shell station on Maple. I stopped for gas and some supplies. What’s wrong? Is Sophia okay?”
“Sophia’s fine. She’s here with your father and me.
Charlotte, you need to come home now. They just issued another alert.
This one is different. They’re saying it isn’t just the air quality.
They’re saying there’s been a release of some kind.
They aren’t being specific, but they’re telling everyone to go indoors immediately and seal their windows and doors. ”
“A release?” Charlotte asked. “Like a chemical attack?”
“I don’t know,” Evelyn said. “They aren’t saying. The National Guard is mobilizing, and they’ve closed the highways out of the county. Your father tried to get to the bank, and the roads were jammed. People are leaving before this gets worse.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Be careful…and hurry.”
The call ended, and Charlotte stood beside the truck, the bags heavy in her hands. Around her, people filled containers, argued over rumors, and prepared for a disaster none of them understood.