Chapter One #4
Again she felt a sense of unreality as she tried to deal with the realities of the possible situation. Civilization and culture
as she knew it, as everyone knew it, would vanish in an instant. This was too big. There was no way to prepare.
She headed for the cookie aisle. Carol called out, “If anyone else had told you to prepare for Armageddon, would you have
taken it seriously? Or are you stocking up for the coming apocalypse because Hottie McStud is the one who told you it was
coming?”
“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know that I believe him. It’s just . . . why gamble that he’s wrong?” She took
a deep breath. “And it isn’t just me, it’s you and Olivia, too.”
That was what terrified her, she realized. They were family, she and Carol and Olivia, and they didn’t have many other relatives.
There were a few scattered cousins, and Olivia’s older brother, Joshua, who was in the military, but here it was just the
three of them. If anything happened to Carol or Olivia because she, Sela, hadn’t been prepared enough, she’d never forgive
herself.
They’d suffered enough loss, all of it in the past ten years. Olivia’s parents—Carol’s daughter and her husband—in a senseless
car crash. Sela’s own parents of natural causes—a slow cancer and a quick aneurysm—three and five years later. Carol’s husband
had died after a heart attack four years ago, less than a year after Sela’s divorce.
She’d lost enough. She would damn well do everything she could to keep what remained of her family safe.
Their lives were so entwined she couldn’t imagine being any other way. They lived in a small subdivision within easy walking
distance of the store and each other, in houses that were similar on the outside, though wildly different inside. Sela was
a minimalist. Carol never met a knickknack she didn’t like. Most importantly, Carol wasn’t prepared for more than a couple
of days without power. She’d decided that she didn’t need a generator, because Sela had one, and if there was a power outage
she and Olivia would just stay with Sela until the power came back on. Both houses did have fireplaces, though Carol hadn’t
had a real fire in hers in years. That might be about to change.
Suddenly it seemed to Sela that she could take everything in her own store and not have enough for them, not for months. And
it wasn’t just Carol and Olivia. What would happen when a friend or neighbor showed up, and they needed something? Her family
came first, but it would be damn hard to turn people away. Shit. She stared at the pitiful stash she’d accumulated.
No way was this enough.
She took a deep breath. “Of everyone here in the valley, who would you choose to believe when it comes to surviving a catastrophe?”
The two women stared at each other, and Sela knew they were both picturing their friends and acquaintances, and measuring
them against the tough, grim, hard-muscled man whose eyes said he’d seen more than they could ever imagine, or want to imagine.
“Hot Buns Steelbody,” Carol said reluctantly, coining a new term for Jernigan.
They shared another look, then Sela said, “Watch the store for a while.” She put the last of what she’d gathered in the office.
“I’m going to town.”
“For what?” Carol asked.
“Smart things we need to do. Call your pharmacy and get refills on all your medications, and I’ll swing by and pick them up.”
“They aren’t due, insurance won’t—” Carol began, then said, “Oh. Forget insurance, we’ll pay for them ourselves. Right? Will
pharmacies do that?”
“Don’t see why not, as long as it isn’t narcotics. Call and find out, and let me know.” Sela grabbed her purse out from under
the counter and headed for the door, already organizing a list in her head: cash from the bank, more supplies from the grocery
store, the prescription refills for Carol, batteries, fuel for the oil lamps—more and more items occurred to her, so many
she felt overwhelmed. She couldn’t think of everything, she couldn’t get everything . . . but everything she did get was a
small step toward keeping them alive and safe.
Maybe Jernigan was totally wrong, maybe he was nuts, or possibly a decent but gullible guy who’d been given bad information.
An image of him flashed to mind. No, scratch “gullible” from any description applying to him. He didn’t strike her as a man
who trusted easily.
Someone was always hyping that next Tuesday, or next year, or a date on an ancient calendar, was going to be the end of the
world. Knock on wood, so far they’d always been wrong.
That wasn’t Jernigan. He didn’t seem either gullible or nuts. She didn’t know him beyond the most superficial acquaintance,
but of all the people she could think of he struck her as the one who would know the most about what was going on in the world
beyond Wears Valley.
He had seemed almost reluctant to warn her, but he had, and suddenly she wondered why. Was he telling everyone? Was he doing
a Paul Revere, up and down the valley?
“When will you be back?” Carol asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but before Olivia gets off the bus. Hold down the fort.”