Chapter Three #4
“So?” Barb prodded. “What do we do?”
Neighbors ranging in age from five to seventy-five looked at her as if she should have all the answers. She threw a panicked
look at Mike Kilgore, but he held up his hands and shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have the patience. Tell me what
to do and I’ll do it, but I know my shortcomings.”
The thing was, Sela knew hers, too, and being forceful enough to lead anything wasn’t in her wheelhouse.
On the other hand, what they needed at this point was organization more than leadership. She ran her store, kept the inventory ordered and organized. She could do that much, get
them at least on the same page so things that needed to be done got done but efforts weren’t duplicated.
Olivia was watching her. If she refused, what would that teach Olivia about stepping up, about being strong even against her
own inclinations? She wasn’t Olivia’s only role model, but still—being a role model sucked.
She blew out a breath, thought a minute, then said, “We need a plan not just for this street, but for the entire community.”
There were about six thousand residents in Wears Valley, give or take. Thanks to the topography, they were pretty spread out.
It was a rural area, an unincorporated township. They had no organized form of government. “Okay, everyone think. While we
still have phones and internet, let’s contact everyone we can and set up a community center.” There was one logical answer.
“Tomorrow afternoon, if we get hit the way they say we will, we’ll meet at the school. Everyone who wants to attend can, but
at the very least each neighborhood should be represented. We need a list of residents, their addresses, next . . . next of
kin and how to contact them.” That was hard to say, but had to be put out there. “Put the word out, try to get as many people
to attend as we can. The people who can walk the distance, should, to save gas. At the very least people should share rides.
Once we’re there, we’ll make a plan for the days to come.”
Days, she said, not weeks and months. She didn’t want to bring the panic back to those who had managed to dismiss it.
“We can elect a community leader at that time.” So far as she knew, they didn’t even have a county deputy who lived in the
area, but she might be wrong about that. There was a forest ranger, she thought, but she’d heard he retired.
One thing for sure: her little neighborhood might have nominated her to get things organized, but she certainly wouldn’t be
voted on to lead the entire community.
One of the men who’d been talking about upping security spoke up. “Who’s going to contact that Jernigan guy up on Cove Mountain?
He’s retired military, right? That’s what I heard. He’d be an asset.”
If they only knew. Sela and Carol both kept their mouths shut. No one needed to know Jernigan had given them a heads-up about
the solar storm several hours before everyone else found out.
A few people nodded their heads in agreement and one asked if anyone had his phone number.
It appeared no one did, no surprise there, and eventually Mike Kilgore offered to drive up in the morning and ask Jernigan
personally to join in on the community plans. The men would no doubt prefer someone like Ben to be in charge, and to be honest
so would she. But she didn’t think he’d agree. In fact, she was almost certain he wouldn’t.
As twilight deepened, a few people still stood around talking but most began wandering back to their homes, to prepare, to
wait, to call loved ones they might not be able to talk to for a while. Maybe some would cry, or try to convince themselves
that despite the warnings nothing would happen. Different people coped in different ways.
Sela was exhausted. She murmured a vague excuse about going in to check on something, though there was nothing to check, and
went back into Carol’s house. It had been a hellish—and hellishly long—day, and she just wanted to go home. Home wasn’t possible
just yet, unless she was willing to leave Carol and Barb to do all the work of canning their produce, which she wasn’t.
She began pulling stuff out of the refrigerator to throw together a meal. Perishables first, she thought. That meant the luncheon ham needed to be eaten. Okay, ham and cheese sandwiches it was.
Olivia was teary-eyed when she came inside, just ahead of Carol and Barb. “I want to talk to Josh,” she said, “but he isn’t
answering his phone.”
“He’s probably on duty,” Sela said practically. “Every active-duty soldier will be preparing. Send him a text, tell him to
call whenever he can regardless of the time.” Carol had to be as worried about her grandson as Olivia was, but she was holding
it together for her granddaughter’s sake.
As far as that went, Sela wanted to know that her cousin was safe, too, and maybe find out some preparations the military
was making. And after that she wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, though she doubted sleep was coming anytime
soon.
First, though, there was work—a lot of work. They had to do what they could while the power was still on.