Chapter Sixteen #2
my tanks. Trey Foster is going to rig up a suction pump, and we’re going to start dispensing it in five-gallon increments
tomorrow morning at nine.” She paused. “I didn’t tell them about the small tank. Am I wrong?”
“I wouldn’t have told them either, so if you’re wrong, I’d be wrong right along with you.” Once again Carol shifted her weight,
winced as her ribs protested.
“I still feel guilty, but then I think about you and Olivia, and—”
“And family is family.”
“The patrol is telling people as they go around the valley.” She sighed. “I tried not to let Ted Parsons get to me, but he
questioned everything I said. If it hadn’t been for Mike and Trey, I probably would have walked out.”
“No, you’d have wanted to, but you’d have stayed.” Carol patted her hand. “I know that, even if you don’t.”
“I think Ted wants to feel important. He was the boss in his tire stores, but he’s an outsider here and we don’t listen to
him so much. He was talking to some guy Mike said was a Dietrich—I don’t think I know them—and Ted was all puffed up, telling
people about the gas as if it was his.”
“The only Dietrichs I know live on the Townsend end of the valley. Lawrence and Zoe. Both of them are heavy into meth. I wouldn’t
trust them as far as I could throw them.”
That was where she’d heard the name, Sela realized, when Carol had said back when they were first getting organized not to
let Zoe Dietrich go into old people’s homes to help them because she’d steal their medications. Without doubt the Dietrichs
would show up to get gasoline, and she hoped they used it to leave, to go where they were more likely to find a thriving drug
trade. Knoxville wasn’t that far; they could make it on a couple of gallons of gas.
The thing was, she wouldn’t be the only station owner who had cut off their pumps to save the gasoline. It was more likely
that all over the country people would be getting into the gas reserves for exactly the same reason she was, to use it before
the octane degraded too much to be usable. Did that mean that, for a certain stretch of time, groups of people who had been
in one spot would start moving around? It wasn’t just that smart people would know the rural areas would be surviving better
than the urban ones, but that they’d have more to steal.
“I’m worried about strangers coming into the valley,” she confided. “If one made it this far, others can. With gasoline in
their vehicles the patrol can cover more ground, for a little while at least, but other than that I don’t know what to do.”
She was silent a moment. “I went to see Ben Jernigan.”
Even hurt and drugged, Carol perked up at that news. Her eyes sparkled. “You did? What happened? Anything juicy?”
“He didn’t shoot me, if that’s what you mean. He listened.” By sheer force of will, Sela kept herself focused on what she
was telling Carol, so she wouldn’t blush. “He seems to have a soft spot for Jim and Mary Alice, and I thought if he knew what
happened to them he might be more interested in helping us. He said he’d come down tomorrow morning when everyone lines up
to get gas, to talk to the patrol members, so that’s something. Oh—I also got in an argument with Carlette Broward.” She couldn’t
control a little smile, really more of a smirk, but one full of triumph. “I won. I think I did, anyway. She started in on
me about hogging the gas for myself and after putting up with Ted and all his crap I was fed up.”
“I don’t know Carlette Broward, I don’t think, but yay anyway. Did you bitch-slap her?”
“Good God, no. From the looks of her she could stomp me into a greasy smear on the road.”
“Oh! I think I know who you mean. Did you see a tattoo on her neck? Yeah, she could take you.”
For all Carol had been so vocal about wanting Sela to be in charge of organization, she did love having her finger in all
pies and knowing exactly what was going on, even if she hadn’t been bored. Sela sat and chatted until Carol drifted off to
sleep, then quietly stood and tiptoed out.
Sundown came early these days and it was already dark outside. Barb and Olivia were heating vegetable soup over the fire.
Barb had made some skillet bread the day before and she was toasting the last of it to eat with the soup. The smell of the
toasting bread made Sela’s mouth water, and she went through the simple meal as if she were a starving plow-hand, though she
did occasionally pause between bites to bring Barb and Olivia up to speed on the day’s events, and to tell them that Nancy
Meador was staying with Carol that night.
“I can do that,” Barb protested. “We can swap nights and do just fine.”
“You have day duty,” Sela pointed out. Barb was now doing all of the cooking. Olivia helped, but Barb was the one in charge.
“I wouldn’t have a problem handling nights, normally, but today has been a challenge and it started early.”
“I doubt tomorrow will be any less busy, so if Nancy or anyone else offers to stay, take them up on it.” Barb dipped up a
bowl of soup for Carol, added the toasted bread to the platter. “This stage won’t last long, when her ribs are less sore she’ll
be able to get around on her own here in the house, and won’t need any more pain pills. I’m guessing a week.”
“I can help, too. What difference does it make if I sleep upstairs, or down here in Gran’s room?” Olivia pointed out.
“Well, that’s true.” All of Sela’s reasons for staying with Carol last night suddenly seemed less valid. Olivia wasn’t experienced
taking care of people, but she was a smart kid, loved Carol, and doing the basic things that needed to be done wasn’t a complicated
task. Delegate, delegate, delegate. Sela reminded herself to ask for help when she needed it. She’d forced herself to ask
for help from Ben and look how that had turned out. She felt her face, her entire body, getting hot, and not from embarrassment.
When we have sex . . . She felt breathless, her attention instantly fractured.
She was profoundly grateful to Nancy for staying with Carol tonight, so she could be alone and fantasize about everything
that had happened today with Ben, and everything that could happen in the future. The near future, she hoped. While she understood
why he was taking the very possibility of negotiation out of the situation between them, she wouldn’t have minded if they
hadn’t waited at all.
Still, waiting was for the best. She was innately cautious when it came to relationships, and even though being with Ben was
something she wanted with all her heart, she needed to mentally prepare for being intimate with a man again after so long.
Basically, she would fret. Half of her was so filled with longing and excitement she wasn’t certain she could contain herself,
but the other half of her was uncertain. What if he didn’t like her body? She had all the basic female parts, but not a single
one was extraordinary. Maybe he liked adventurous sex. Maybe he was into some kink. She didn’t think she could do adventurous
or kink, which meant that if he did, in short order he’d be bored with her just like Adam had been.
On the other hand, just kissing him had carried her higher than making love with Adam ever had, so she could be short-selling
herself as to what she could or couldn’t do. With Ben, she didn’t know if she had any boundaries.
“You look funny,” Olivia said, staring at her.
Sela jerked herself back to the present and managed to say, “Like I’m crazy? Because that’s how I feel, as if I have twenty
balls in the air but only know how to juggle one.”
“One ball isn’t juggling. It’s tossing a ball back and forth.”
“My point exactly. I don’t know how to juggle.” She blew out a breath. “I’m going home, and going to sleep.”
She did exactly that, not even bothering with bed and instead wrapping herself in a blanket and curling up on the couch where
she could watch the fire. Funny how she had seldom had a fire going before, and now it was one of the most comforting things
she could imagine . . .
She slept so soundly that she woke feeling as if she’d slept for hours, but the fire still had small flames licking upward
so she knew she hadn’t. Sleepily she got up and replenished the fire, checked the battery-operated clock—10:24—and went back
to the couch. Instead of going back to sleep, though, she lay there staring at the fire while she mentally ran through everything
that had happened during the long, eventful day. She wanted to think about Ben, relive those intense, exciting kisses and
the promise of more; instead she mentally worried over everything else.
A sense of unease gnawed at her, but she couldn’t isolate the reason for it. There were a lot of things about the day to worry
about, things that had already happened and couldn’t be changed. Upcoming was dispensing the gasoline, but she’d have plenty
of help for that, and Ben had promised to come down and get them better organized as far as security.
But . . . what if there was trouble over the gasoline? If demand outstripped supply, those left out were going to be angry.
She couldn’t think of any way to avoid that; she couldn’t manufacture gasoline and put more in the tanks. They could dole
it out in five-gallon increments—after the community patrol had filled their tanks—and there would either be enough for everyone
to get some, or not. She also had to find out about the kiln that Mona Clausen might or might not have, preferably before
they pumped the tanks dry.
Those were things to do, not things to be uneasy about. Short term, life in the valley was going to be easier, because of
the gasoline supply she’d protected.
Liquid gold.
The supply of gasoline was priceless, the way things were now. People would do everything they could to get it, for use or
trade. It was better than money, because you couldn’t eat money, or stay warm with it.
In her mind’s eye she suddenly saw Ted talking to Lawrence Dietrich—Dietrich, who, according to Carol, was involved in meth.
Making it, selling it, or taking it, she didn’t know, but meth was death. A meth addict would steal anything to feed the habit—