by P. A. Glaspy
They didn't get too far before they were confronted by a woman climbing out of her car as they approached. She appeared to be in her mid-forties. She was dressed in a business suit with skirt and heels. She had a leather coat pulled tightly around her waist, but she was shivering nonetheless.
"Excuse me, do you know when the police or somebody will be coming to help us? It's been hours and I haven't seen anybody in authority. I've already missed my flight to Chicago this morning and I can't even reschedule since my phone died. Do either of you have a phone that's working?"
They both shook their heads as Will replied, "No, ma'am, I don't think anybody's phone is working. Do you have any warmer clothes you can put on? You look awfully cold."
"No, I don't. I was supposed to be flying out early for a quick meeting and then coming back home tonight. Just a day trip, you know? A high-profile client who, if he wants a meeting on Sunday, he gets a meeting on Sunday. I should have only needed my briefcase. And yes, I'm freezing." She shivered again as if to punctuate her remark.
"I wish I had something I could give you, but I literally have the clothes on my back," Amanda said. "Maybe someone around here …" She turned to scan the area. This particular stretch of highway was emptier than some of the other parts Will, and probably Amanda, had walked through.
The woman shook her head. "Not really a lot of folks around, and I'm not walking anywhere in these shoes." She held her snow-covered pump up as evidence.
Amanda looked at Will, who gave her a quick head shake. He said, "Ma'am, I'm really sorry, but we just don't have any clothing to spare. I mean, I have a t-shirt and some boxers in my bag. Those aren't going to help you. The only thing I can suggest is you get into the back seat, curl up under your coat, and try to stay warm. You could maybe pull the floor mats up and lay them on top of your coat. We need to keep moving. Good luck, ma'am." He took Amanda by the arm and led her on down the road. He could hear the woman crying as they walked away.
Amanda let Will lead her for a bit then pulled her arm away. "Are we really going to do this? Just leave her here alone to freeze to death?"
Will stopped and turned to her. "What would you have me do, Amanda? She doesn't have any clothes or shoes that would make it possible for her to come with us. I don't have anything to give her. You don't either. So, what's our option?"
Amanda stood looking pensive, then crestfallen. "I guess you're right. How many people do you think are out there, right now, in the same situation as that poor woman? How many people were just going about their lives, heading to their jobs or home for the holidays and are now stranded, maybe hundreds of miles from home, possibly in the middle of nowhere, with no supplies and no means to get to any?"
"I don't know. Thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. The upside is it was the middle of the night … well, super early in the morning anyway. And it's Sunday. There weren't nearly as many people on the roads as there would have been tomorrow morning during rush hour. We don't know how widespread this is either. Nobody knows anything except that nothing works here." Will paused for a moment, then continued. "None of that matters to you and me right now. We need to get to my folks’ house. We need shelter and some kind of food besides protein bars and beef jerky. I'm sorry we couldn't help her. We can't help anyone because we don't have anything to help them with. We just have to keep moving."
Amanda sighed. "I know you're right, Will. I just hate not helping people when they ask, if I can."
Will nodded. "Me too, Amanda. Unfortunately, in this situation, we can't. We have to focus on us now. And we really do need to keep moving. Are you ready?"
"Yes. Lead on," she replied, only this time the playful tone was gone. Will started down the road, Amanda following dejectedly. After a moment she said, "I feel like a total shitheel."
Will kept walking but turned his head and replied over his shoulder, "I've got a feeling we aren't even close to the level of shittiness we are going to feel today."
Chapter 10
Lauri cut the rest of the cornbread while Carly dished soup into bowls. They sat down with their food, Joel said grace, then Lauri looked at her husband. "What did you want to talk about, honey?"
Joel sighed. "Girls, we're going to have to decide who we're going to help and how much."
"I don't understand," she replied around a mouthful of soup.
"This situation is probably going to last for a while. Honestly, I can't fathom how long it's going to take to recover from it if it's very widespread. Have you heard any cars, trucks, helicopters, planes — any kind of moving vehicle? Besides the mower, of course."
Lauri considered the question. "Well, now that you mention it, I don't think I have."
Joel nodded slowly. "That's the part that concerns me. If it was just Memphis, even just the Mid-South, there would be helicopters flying over, checking the area, surveying the situation. There's nothing. I'm afraid this is going to be a long, hard road for everyone. That's why we are going to have to make some tough choices."
"What kind of choices, Dad?" Carly asked.
"We can't help everyone who comes to the door and asks for it. If we do, we'll run out of supplies ourselves. Then what?"
Carly looked thoughtful. "We find a way to get to Elliott's. He said we should come if Will's vision came true. I'm pretty sure it's come true."
"That's a good plan, honey, but we can't go right away. We need to give Will a chance to get home, for one thing," Joel said. "We'll also need to take stuff with us to Elliott's place. We can't show up empty-handed. So we need to try to conserve where we can. Unfortunately, that means not sharing with everyone who comes asking for help. That young couple just now? I guarantee you they'll be back, maybe as soon as tomorrow, looking for more wood, more food, something. They don't know anything about living without electricity."
Neither do I, Dad," Carly replied. "I'm completely lost. I've reached for my phone ten times today already." She held up her dead cell phone as evidence.
"Exactly. What would you be doing right now if I hadn't been here to tell you what I thought was happening?"
"Um … I dunno … probably bugging Stan to find out what's going on. Which would be no help at all."
"And how long would the food you had in your house last you?"
She grew wide-eyed. "Oh, wow, hmm. Well, if I ate the microwave food cold, or tried to heat it on the grill or something, and it was just me, maybe four, five days, a week at the most?"
Joel nodded again. "Okay. How many people live on your block? Just a guess."
Carly looked skyward as she counted in her head. "I don't know everybody, but there are eight to ten houses on each side, at least two people per house … say, something like forty, maybe sixty?"
"Call it sixty. So, what happens in a week when those sixty people run out of food?"
"Well, to be honest, Dad, I've been a slacker in the grocery department this week. I had every intention of stocking up on stuff yesterday, but the store was just …"
Joel smiled. "It's okay, honey. Just think about it. If everybody else had about the same amount of food as you, what happens in a week?"
"I guess they'd start looking for food somewhere else. They'd have to."
"Correct. So, in a polite society, people will first ask for help, like Chris and Julie did this morning. They were grateful for what we gave them, for the most part. What do you think is going to happen tomorrow, when the power is still off, and they still don't have wood to heat their home?"
"They'll come back here, asking for more. I would guess as time goes on they won't be nearly as picky about where things come from either," Lauri replied, glancing at the backyard eggs Julie had declined that were sitting on the table.
"Yep," Joel confirmed, "and they know we have wood and food. Now, we have to decide whether we will continue to help them or alienate them by declining. If we choose the latter, which we will have to do at some point, the situation changes. We are no longer helpful neighbors. We are the selfish people l
iving across the street, hoarding their food, not helping their fellow man."
"So, what are you saying, Joel? We start turning people away? I don't know if I can do that," Lauri said. "We've been giving to our neighbors for years. We've shared fresh vegetables, as well as canned. Anyone who's lived here for any amount of time has received a part of our bounty. Are we supposed to sit by warm and fed while the people around us are cold and starving?"
Joel bowed his head, then looked at his wife sadly. "I hear you, honey. That's why I said we had some decisions to make. I just don't see how we can help everybody else and not starve ourselves."
Carly had sat quietly through their discussion. When her mother didn't comment right away, she spoke up. "What if we go ahead and put back what we want to take with us to Elliott's place? I mean, there's a lot of food here. Plus, Elliott has some really impressive food stores out there. What we aren't planning to take Mom can share with the neighbors. Think about it, Dad. None of our vehicles run. How are we going to haul anything to Elliott's house? I don't see the riding mower carrying us out there, much less a bunch of supplies. We don't even know for sure if we can get there." Carly stopped, bottom lip trembling, obviously thinking about her boys.
Joel reached across the table and took Carly's hand. "We will get there, Carly. It won't be today, it won't be tomorrow, it might not even be next week. But we will get to the boys. You have my word on that."
"I'm just so worried about them, Dad. We have no way to get in touch with them, no way to find out if they're all right. I know Elliott will take care of them, but I'm their mom. They should be with me," Carly said.
"We are all worried about them, sweetie," Lauri said, "but Elliott would not let anything happen to Aaron and Cameron. If they can't be with us, that's where I would choose for them to be."
Carly nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. "I know you're both right. I just can't stop thinking about them."
Joel patted her hand as he pulled his away. "We're all thinking about them, honey, and your brother, Will. Right now, all we can do is pray they are okay while we try to figure out what we need to do to get by at the moment. Now, back to what we were talking about …"
Just then, there was a knock at the front door. "I'll get it," Joel said, as he stood from the table. He went to the door, looked through the peephole, and saw Beth Browning, their next-door neighbor, standing on the porch, rocking back and forth on her feet in an apparent attempt to keep them warm. Joel opened the door.
"Oh, hi, Joel. I was just wondering … um, if you could help me out. It's so cold in my house. I've never really used my fireplace, so I don't have any wood. It's just so messy, you know? Anyway, I was wondering if you could let me have some wood and maybe help me get a fire started. Wow, something smells really good in there."
Joel took his coat from the coat tree by the door and slipped his boots on. "Yeah, Beth, I can help you get one started. We don't have a lot of wood to spare, but we can get you something for right now. Give me a couple of minutes to get the wood and kindling together and I'll be right over."
Lauri walked in then with another plastic container of still warm soup. "Here, Beth, take this soup with you. Maybe it will help warm you on the inside."
Beth took the soup, wrapping both hands around the container. "Thank you so much, Lauri. How were you able to cook this? I thought you had an electric stove like me."
"We do, but we used to camp quite a bit and we still have our equipment, which includes our camp stove, so I guess we're fortunate in that respect. I'm not sure what we'll do when the propane runs out though," Lauri replied.
"Oh, I'm sure everything will be back to normal in a day or so," Beth said. "Probably just some lines down somewhere."
Joel looked at her incredulously. "Have you tried to use your cell phone, Beth?"
Beth looked at him, surprised. "Yes, there must be something wrong with it. I can't get it to power on at all. As soon as the roads clear I'll have to go to the Verizon store and let them take a look at it."
Joel then asked, "Have you tried to start your car?"
Now Beth looked confused. "No, I never drive my car when there's ice on the roads. Why?"
"I believe you'll find that your car doesn't work either," Joel replied. "Pretty much nothing does. Anyway, I'll be over with the fire supplies in less than five minutes."
"Okay, thank you both so much! See you in a few, Joel," Beth said with a smile, as she turned to go back to her house.
Joel looked at Lauri as he closed the door. "You see what I mean? Nobody gets it. Nobody can see this isn't just a power outage. When they finally figure it out — and they will — it's going to get ugly. I hope Will gets home soon. We've got to figure out how to get to Elliott's house as soon as possible. Memphis, and anywhere around it, is going to become hell on earth. I wish I'd listened to Elliott when he tried to tell me something like this could happen. I didn't want to believe it, yet here it is. And here we are, on the fringe of a city with a million people, and no way to protect ourselves."
"What are you talking about, Joel? Protect ourselves from what? From who?" Lauri said, wide-eyed. "What do you think is going to happen?"
"Nothing good, that's for sure," he remarked as he went out the back door to gather the wood to take to Beth's house.
~~~~~
Beth had been watching for Joel through the front window, so the door was opening as he walked up. He stamped his feet on the stoop and stepped into the foyer. Beth looked down at his boots, dripping slightly onto the rug in front of the door.
"Um, could you take your boots off here, Joel? I don't want the carpet to get wet."
Joel looked at her incredulously. "Well, you're going to have to deal with it, Beth, because I don't have time to worry about whether or not your floor gets a little damp from my boots I walked over here in through the snow to do you a favor. Do you want me to get you a fire started or not?"
She turned red at his admonishment. "Yes, please. Right this way." She led the way into the living room looking straight ahead. Joel followed, shaking his head in disbelief. He walked over to the fireplace and set the wood down. Kneeling down, he opened the doors and screen, and found there was no grate. Instead, there was a tiered candle holder sitting where the grate should have been. He turned to look at her.
"Well, since you don't have a grate I don't know how well it's going to burn. It won't get as much air to feed the fire."
Beth replied, "But bonfires don't have grates. Campfires don't have grates. I don't understand how this is different."
"Because those fires are built outside where the fire can get air from all directions. Inside, the fire gets air only from the front," he said, gesturing to the space in front of the fireplace, "and there won't be any movement. I'll do what I can. Do you have any newspaper?"
Beth shook her head. "No, I haven't gotten the paper in years. It's so much easier to read it online, and I don't have to worry about piles of papers that have to be bundled and hauled to the recycle center —"
Joel interrupted her. "Do you have any junk mail that's like newsprint then? Or paper plates?"
"Let me go look in the kitchen," she said as she hurried that way.
While he waited, Joel started getting his wood and supplies laid out. He had small split logs, smaller kindling size, even smaller tinder pieces, and some fatwood. He lifted the ornamental candelabra out and set it on the floor beside the fireplace. Looking around, he noticed that the living room was immaculate. Nothing was out of place, and everything matched perfectly from the drapes to the furniture to the carpet. The furniture appeared brand new and didn't look like anyone had ever used it. The living room didn't look like anyone actually lived in it. Beth came back with a few sales flyers and handed them to Joel.
"They're just a bit damp. They were in the trash can and a tea bag was put on top of them. Will they work?"
He took the papers, inspected them, and gave her a nod. "Yep, they'll do. You should probably watch how I d
o this in case you need to build one yourself."
She laughed. "Oh, I don't think I'll need to know that. I'm going to make an appointment to have gas logs installed as soon as the phones come back on. I can see how having some kind of actual use of a fireplace is a good thing."
Joel started to tell her that it wasn't likely that would ever happen but chose to keep it to himself. He didn't know if he should be trying to educate those around him about what their future would probably hold. He knew people like Beth most likely wouldn't make it long without the comforts they had grown accustomed to. But why did he have to be the one to break it to them? And what if he was wrong? Instead, he went back to working on the fire. He built a combination tepee log cabin in the hopes the fire would get some air between the bottom logs and it would burn for a while. He changed the subject while he worked.
"Is that new furniture in here? I was noticing how everything matches."
Beaming, Beth replied, "Oh, no, I've had it for a few years. This room is my pride and joy. That's another reason I didn't want to use the fireplace. I didn't want the smell to get into the furniture. Plus, the ashes, just too messy. I'm sure I'll have to get someone in here to clean it as soon as the power comes back on."
Joel looked at the sofa again. "You've had it for years? It looks brand new. How do you keep it looking like that, like no one ever uses it?"
"That's how. No one ever uses it," she said, as if it was the simplest thing to understand.
Joel's brow furrowed. "You never sit in here? Don't you have family or friends over sometimes?"
"Of course! But they don't sit in here. I use the den for visiting and entertaining."
"So, this room is just here and never gets used?" Joel asked, not hiding the surprise in his voice.
Now Beth was starting to take offense. "I don't see why you find that so hard to believe. Many people have formal living rooms and informal dens."
Joel shrugged. "Just seems like a waste of all the money you spent to decorate it like this and no one ever sees it."