Chapter Five #2
“Then we’re good for a while, between the four of us, if any cell service works.” Another thought occurred; they’d been so
busy doing all the food prep and canning that she’d forgotten about water. She had a good bit of bottled water from her store,
but that wouldn’t be near enough. “We should get busy, right now, filling everything we can with water. When the power goes
out, it’ll be a lot harder to come by.”
They all got busy, filling every glass, every cup, every bowl, every pitcher and jug they could find, all while keeping an
eye on the small television. Sela sent Olivia to Carol’s small bathroom, which was attached to her downstairs master bedroom,
to fill the tub there with water, as well.
The anchors were seriously explaining that anything that relied on satellites was already down, and there was no telling how
long it would take to repair or replace them. Getting the power grid up and running would have to come first. Then they began
listing places where emergency rations would be distributed, and where medical centers would be set up. Hospitals would be
too difficult to manage, with dark stairs and inoperable elevators. The practice of medicine would become smaller, and more
basic.
As she automatically filled containers with water, Sela wondered how long those emergency rations would last. Here in the
valley, at least, starvation wasn’t on the radar. Getting food would be more difficult, but there were deer and other game
in the area, as well as hunters who’d be happy to provide. She’d never had squirrel stew, but there were plenty of them around
and she wasn’t entirely opposed to trying it if their supplies and deer ran out. Okay, she was opposed, but that would pass.
She imagined a lot of food dislikes would be ignored before this was over.
The water coming from the faucet suddenly thinned to a trickle, then stopped altogether. “What on earth?” Carol said, looking
at the television, which was still on.
“The water board must have turned everything off and disconnected, so the pumps won’t be fried,” Sela said, looking at the
clock and thinking that, truly, the water board had taken a chance leaving the water on this long. She turned the faucet off
and looked at their supply of water, at the kitchen counters and table covered with every kind of container they’d been able
to grab. Olivia returned to the kitchen, looking to Sela and shrugging her shoulders. Still, she’d had time to fill Carol’s
bathtub. They’d be okay, for a while, and when they had to they’d use creek water to flush the toilets.
Everything at her own house was already unplugged, and her perishables and generator were already here at Carol’s. They were
as ready as they were going to get.
They all took a seat at the table, watching the little television, saying nothing. The minutes ticked by, moving closer and
closer to three p.m. Then the hour hand on the battery-operated clock moved past three, and Olivia stirred restlessly. “Maybe—” she began.
The television went black.
That was it. No drama, no burst of static, just . . . gone.
Carol’s house was eerily quiet, all of the normal sounds missing. There was no refrigerator hum, no central air blowing, no
television. All of them sat there, scarcely breathing, because surely something so momentous should have been more . . . well—momentous.
The quiet ticking of the clock, something Sela had never before noticed, was the only background noise.
And so it began, not with thunderous noise, or drama, or a cataclysmic collapse, but with . . . silence.
“It looks like The Walking Dead,” Sela said under her breath as they joined people from all over Wears Valley in walking to the elementary school.
On the other side of her, Olivia giggled. Carol barely suppressed a snort of laughter. “Hush!” she whispered. Then she said,
“Though a few people are kind of lurching around.”
They looked like either zombies or lemmings, and in the end it made no difference which, because they were all going to the
same place like metal shavings pulled by a powerful magnet.
The day’s heat had begun to cool and the late-afternoon shadows were lengthening. Sela had brought a flashlight, in case the
meeting ran until after dark. She hoped it wouldn’t, but realistically she expected people to have a lot to say, whether any
of it was constructive or not. Everyone was worried, including herself. Maybe someone would have some good ideas on how they
could weather this.
They worked their way inside to the cafeteria; she’d never seen it so crowded. She hadn’t been here in a few years, but the
school hadn’t changed much. The smell was the same, the tables and chairs the same. Maybe the walls had been repainted, but
that was it.
Instinctively she scanned the crowd, looking for Ben Jernigan even though instinct told her he wasn’t there. If he were anywhere
around, there would be one of two possible reactions: he’d either be standing alone because most people would be wary of approaching
him, or he’d be in the center of a bunch of men who were looking to him to be the natural leader. There was no in-between,
he wouldn’t be chatting with a small group of people.
Even knowing he wasn’t there, until she had scanned the entire room, her blood was still thrumming through her veins at the mere possibility
that she might be wrong.
Of course he wasn’t here; no surprise there, though she really wished he was. If anyone had the skills to help them get through
this disaster, it was Jernigan. She couldn’t even be annoyed that he wouldn’t help, because, honestly, if she had the option
of hiding away until the crisis passed she’d probably take it.
She didn’t have the option, so wishful thinking was a waste of time.
Every seat in the lunchroom had been taken, and many people stood along the walls and in the aisles. Almost immediately the
low roar of constant chatter began to wear on her nerves. She hated crowds and the noise that came with them, hated the way
it made her want to crouch down like a small animal trying to escape notice. She wished she thrived on people and experiences,
instead of wanting to run.
A man noticed them and said, “Miss Carol, here,” and got up to let Carol have his seat, at the end of a long table. Sela and
Olivia took up positions behind her. It wasn’t necessary that all three of them be here, but she and Carol had felt as if
they had to be there, and Olivia was sticking close to them. Barb had stayed at Carol’s house, both to rest from the hard
day’s work and because she said they could tell her everything she needed to know, which was true. Her ankle was already better,
so she could’ve handled the walk. Sela suspected that Barb was hiding, in her own way, the same way Ben was hiding. Everyone
handled crises differently.
In the midst of the dull roar, she caught bits and pieces of conversations:
“I don’t have enough blood pressure meds.”
“I really didn’t think it would happen.”
And so on and so on. Panic, concern, curiosity—they were all around her, and inside her, though she held her fears close because
she didn’t want to burden Carol and Olivia with them.
A woman at the next table toward the back was telling people that Mike Kilgore had gone to Ben Jernigan’s place and been met
with a shotgun. Any lingering hope she’d had, that he’d miraculously come to help, faded away.
With the electricity off and no air-conditioning, and the lunchroom crowded with people, heat was quickly building to the
uncomfortable level and so was the level of irritation.
From what she could hear, a couple of men were already attempting to take the lead, but so far there was nothing resembling
organization in their methods. They were at the front of the room, arguing about food, security measures, rationing gasoline
and propane. More men began to join them, some adding their opinions to the argument, others just moving close enough to listen.
The noise level grew, as did the feeling of panic in the air. Carol looked around and scowled, then said to Sela, “If someone
else doesn’t step up, those butt-holes up there will end up running everything.”
Olivia said, “Why don’t you do it, Gran? You and Sela.”
Carol looked startled, then she glanced up at Sela with a speculative look on her face. “You should do it,” she said. “You’re
the one who got this meeting organized, after all.”
Sela’s stomach clenched at the idea of dealing with this many people; she’d have to get up and talk in front of them, persuade
the ones who had other ideas, and a whole bunch of other things that made her think about running. Horrified, she protested,
“I don’t even know the majority of people here! Do you?”
Carol looked around, frowning. “Most of them,” she admitted. “After all, I’ve lived here all of my life. Some of the new people
who’ve moved here, I don’t.”
“I think you should do it,” Olivia said to Carol. She made a face as she looked at the knot of arguing men. “They scare me.
Do it, Gran, please?”
Carol said irritably, “You do know I don’t have much chance of being elected, don’t you?” even as she pushed her chair back
and stood.
“Then why did you tell me to do it?” Sela demanded. “You know more of them than I do!”
“Don’t try to trip me up with logic.”
Sela followed her aunt as Carol slowly worked her way to the back of the room. It was a chore to get there. They had to ease
past clusters of concerned people, muttering “excuse me” again and again as they made their way toward the men who were attempting—and
failing—to lead. Everyone was watching the argument, some scowling, some looking alarmed as if they expected a fight to break
out at any minute.
The air was close and hot, and evidently a lot of people hadn’t thought ahead to taking a bath while they still could. Some
people were trying to open windows, maybe catch a late-afternoon breeze to clear the air.
This was the way it would be for a long time, she thought. Central air and heat had spoiled them; everyone would have to get