“Really?”
“Five hundred million dollars,” he replied in the dark, wishing he could see her response. “I took the payments and after taxes I get twelve million dollars every year for twenty years. Well, I used to.” He laughed. “You know what I can do with twelve million dollars a year? Anything I want… like build my dream resort.”
“And here I was worried about a measly few million.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Avon
Sheriff Claude Burns slumped in his wooden office chair, which creaked with his bulk. At fifty years old, his hairline was receding rapidly and his once fit waistline was competing just as quickly. “Is this what is going to keep happening?” he asked aloud. “Refugees seeking shelter and help when I can’t even help the people already here?”
“If that question was directed at me, Sheriff, the answer is: likely.” Allison McCarthy set a fresh mug of coffee in front of him. Allison had been his secretary for the last ten years, ever since he was elected to office. Two years after his wife passed from cancer five years ago, Allison also became his sometime lover. They maintained separate homes out of decorum, and spent one night a week together.
“What do you think I should be doing about that?” he asked, looking at her, wrapped in an oversized sweater and wearing fingerless gloves.
“First, we need to get more wood in here to burn,” she said with a shiver. “Next should be a conference with Mayor Hawkins.”
“Henry? Yeah, I guess you’re right. He’s the elected official that’s supposed to run this town.”
“The next thing is I think you should move in with me. I’ve got that woodstove you had Mike Miller install last year, and he’s kept me supplied with plenty of wood. You can’t sleep here to stay warm,” Allison said, crossing her arms over her ample chest.
He sighed. “You’re right again, Al. I’ll bring some things over tonight.” He got up from his chair and walked to the door. “If you see Mike, flag him down and ask for a load of wood for here. And tell him I need to talk with him, okay? I’ll go to the Wilderness Outfitters and talk with Henry.”
***
“Good afternoon, Claude,” Henry said. “I was wondering when you would be stopping by.” He sat down in the rocker by the woodstove. “We’ve got quite a mess on our hands, don’t we?”
“You could say that,” Claude sat in the other chair and was quiet.
“What is on your mind that we do?”
“As mayor of our fair town, that’s really up to you, Henry. I’m only the enforcer.”
“I have a feeling something has crossed your mind though.”
“We’re already getting people coming in from outside, wanting to be taken care of—and fed.” Claude stood to pace.
“It’s only been two days. Are the residents running out of food already?” This astonished Henry. The town of Avon was so far off the beaten path that most everyone kept a well-stocked pantry. That was, until Walstroms came to town and made it easy to buy groceries a couple of times a week.
“I don’t think so, but it might not be too much longer, and I think we ought to get ready for that. When it happens, it ain’t gonna be pretty,” Claude said.
Henry stood. “Then as mayor, I say we call a town meeting and discuss getting into Walstroms and taking what we need.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sheriff, who is going to stop us? From all indications most, if not all, of the country is in the same situation. I say we act now, before someone else raids the place.” Henry laced his fingers together in thought. “I see our biggest issue is getting food from Walstroms to the people without running vehicles. It’s a long walk for some.”
“We also need a plan for a systematic distribution. We can’t have a free for all, Henry.”
“Agreed. Sit a bit, Claude, and let’s talk this out,” Henry suggested. “What needs to be done first? And would you get me that pad of paper behind the counter and a pen? These old bones don’t like the cold.”
“Getting the people together would be first,” Claude said.
“Not really. Shouldn’t we find a way into the store first and see the condition? We know there isn’t any power for lights.”
“Without power the coolers have shut down. There is food that will spoil and fairly quick: meat, produce, everything in the freezers too.” The sheriff stood and looked out the windows. “I bet in the camping section there are some lanterns we could use. I know I’ve got an old kerosene lamp somewhere that I should take to the office. There might be more of those too. People get weird if it’s too dark.” He picked up another log to put on the fire. “Henry, why don’t you lock up and come down to the station? Allison has the place warmed up, coffee on the stove, and I think she could help us plan things out.”
Henry chuckled. “Before we go, Claude, take a look around.”
The sheriff looked around the store and stopped. “It would have bit me, right?”
“Right. The lanterns are in aisle four, but I don’t stock fuel, too hazardous.” Henry picked up the Maglite flashlight that was on the floor next to the rocker and flicked it on, sending a fine beam that cut through the dark interior. “Most of the flashlights are LED and aren’t working for some reason; however, I’ve got a box full of those shake and break light sticks that are better than nothing.”
“What about food?” Claude asked, now understanding that the Wilderness Outfitters was a treasure trove.
“Dried foods are best saved for when the fresh stuff runs out. Energy bars, jerky, things like that are all shelf stable. With winter approaching I already got in new inventory on gloves, hats. and boots.” Mentioning the clothes instantly made Henry think of Ms. Michaels and that clod looking for her. “Claude, if someone were planning on spending the winter here, where would they stay?”
“There are several resorts around here, Henry, you know that. The Geo Dome would be at the top of my list though. And that reminds me, Jeff was just in town dropping off some of his guests and he was driving his truck!” Claude exclaimed. “I wonder if he would loan it to us for a few days.”
“Must be an old truck to have survived the EMP blast.”
***
Sheriff Burns and Mayor Hawkins each carried a box of supplies, walking down Main Street toward the town offices. Out front, was a wagon full of split wood pulled by two Belgian draft horses.
“Mike, it’s good to see you.” The mayor shook the young man’s hand. “How are you holding up with this calamity?”
“I’m doing fine, Mr. Mayor. Not being dependent on the grid has its advantages,” Mike Miller said. “Sheriff, Mrs. McCarthy said you needed wood. I put some next to the woodstove. Where would you like the rest?”
“If you would help me move a desk, you can put it in one of the offices. I doubt they’re going to be used anytime soon,” Claude replied. “As for payment, I could write you a chit, but we both know it wouldn’t be any good. So, young man, what can we barter?”
Mike smiled. “Let me think about it. I’ve got all I need to survive, except maybe smokes. Bad habit I know, but it’s my only one.”
Henry noticed Mike’s tattered gloves. “Mike, may I suggest some new gloves for you as payment?”
The young man looked down at his hands. “That would be perfect, sir.”
“Sheriff, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Henry left to retrieve two new pairs of gloves from his store.
***
“These are really nice, Mr. Mayor,” Mike said, admiring his new wool-lined leather work gloves. “Thank you. I think I’m going to like this barter thing.”
“About taking me up to the Geo Domes, Mike, how soon could you do that?” the sheriff asked.
“I still have another load of wood to deliver to Mrs. McCarthy and then the horses need rest. How about tomorrow? Would that be soon enough?”
<
br /> “Thank you. That would be fine.”
“I promised him a hot dinner in payment for the wood,” Allison said after Mike drove off with the horses to replenish the wagon. “Which brings up my next question. Henry, Claude, would you care to join me for dinner? I’m making a pot roast.”
“I’d be delighted, Allison,” Henry said. “May I ask how are you cooking? I thought everyone was on all electric.”
“I think I’m one of the few who have a gas stove, which can be lit with a match,” she boasted. “That reminds me, Claude. If you don’t need me here, I’d like to go home and get dinner started and be there when the wood shows up.”
***
“What that woman of yours said has me thinking,” Henry said when they were alone again.
“My woman?”
Henry laughed. “Come on, Claude, the whole town knows you two spend a lot of after work hours together.”
“Nosey people,” Claude harrumphed, sending Henry chuckling into his mayoral office.
“Come on, Romeo, we need to make some lists.”
“What was it Allison said that has you thinking and about what?” Claude asked, settling into the comfortable green leather chair in front of the mayor’s wide oak desk.
“Her stove. Even if we get enough food out of Walstroms, how are people going to cook? Few enough of them even have heat.” Henry pulled a steno pad from the top drawer and took a pen from the cup that sat on the far right corner of his desk. The cup had a picture of his granddaughter laminated on it. She had perished along with his wife and daughter in a head-on collision twenty years earlier and he still missed all of them.
“I guess we should check out the camping section of Walstroms for portable stoves. Who do we give them to though?”
***
Two days after the EMP, The Gold Mine bar reopened for business. The owner, Jonas Johnson, who claimed to be a direct descendent of the legendary, and possibly mythical, Jeremiah Johnson, spent those days fixing all the mining lamps he had collected.
Deputy Tighe Teagan pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into the muted light. “Are you really opening, Jonas?”
“You bet I am. Never let a good disaster go to waste,” the bald and portly man laughed. “It didn’t take nearly as much time or effort to get all these old oil lamps working again, and with light I’ve got customers.” He came around from behind the bar and put another chunk of wood into the old pot-belly stove. “New cover charge is one piece of firewood. I’ll make an exception for our law enforcement. You want a drink, Tighe?”
“No thanks, I’m on duty. I might be back later, though.” Deputy Teagan looked around his favorite haunt. There were times he needed to get away from his wife and girls and be with the guys and this was where he went. “Here I thought all those old lamps were only decorations to add ambiance.” He noticed nearly a dozen old oil lamps hanging on hooks from the ceiling and a few on tables. The glow was a welcoming sight.
“They were, until the power went out. Same for that old pot-belly,” Jonas said. “Tell me, Tighe, do you think the lights will be back on soon?” At fifty years old, Jonas looked over sixty, and knew his drinking, bad diet, and hard life had taken its toll on him. He picked up the large antique teakettle from the stove and took it behind the bar. Pouring some of the warmed water into the closed sink, he dampened a well-used cloth and began wiping down the wooden bar.
“I don’t think so, Jonas. Not according to the few reports the sheriff has gotten in. We are all going to have a lot of adjusting to do.”
“Obviously the power is out, and I know cars don’t work for some reason, but what else is affected? Wait, didn’t I see that Jeff Atkins from the fancy resort up Hog Back, driving a truck yesterday?”
“Yeah, it’s a really old truck that doesn’t have any electronics in it. That’s the problem with everything, Jonas. The electronics, and if you think about it, about everything has some kind of circuit in it. Computers, cash registers, cellphones, even land lines. I think that’s what concerns me the most: no communications at all and that includes any news from outside the town itself. We might all revert to having a kid around to run messages.” Deputy Teagan slumped on a barstool.
“What if there’s an emergency?” Jonas asked.
Deputy Teagan had no answer.
***
“Come on in, guys!” Jonas greeted his first customers.
“Hey, Jonas. Man, am I happy to see you open,” Clyde said. “I saw the sign out front and had to go back home for some firewood.” The others behind him set their chunks of wood down next to the old cast iron stove.
Jonas knew his customers. He lined up three chilled beers on the bar.
“How are you keeping the beer cold without electricity?”
“It’s winter! I packed a tub with snow and filled it with bottles and cans. We all have to adjust somehow,” Jonas laughed, wiping the moisture rings with a cloth again.
It wasn’t long and the bar was packed as usual. And it wasn’t long before the men were drunk and rowdy. Someone clapped another on the shoulder in friendship a little too hard and he fell into another, who pushed back. The fight sparked a mental dismissal of the new surroundings, and an oil lamp crashed to the floor, spreading liquid fire across the exit.
The fire alarm never sounded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Claude was stunned at the news of the fire. There were no alarms, no fire trucks blaring, and no phone calls to alert him.
“How many did we lose, Tighe?”
“We won’t know for sure, Sheriff, until it cools down more. My guess is nearly fifty. The place was packed when I left, just before it all started. I suppose the only good news is that since The Gold Mine was on a corner, there was only one nearby building and it was only scorched.”
“It hadn’t occurred to me that we are now without a fire department.” Claude sat staring out the window while the deputy silently left.
“I heard the news, Claude,” Henry said. “What are we going to do about all the bodies? The hospital morgue can’t handle that many.”
The sheriff sighed. “I know it’s going to sound rather gruesome, but there’s an old house on the outskirts of town. I say we put any and all deceased in there for the winter, and when it warms in the spring, we torch it. Instead of a mass grave, we’ll have a mass cremation.”
“You think there will be more?”
“This is only the beginning, Henry. Only the beginning.”
***
Precisely at noon, Mike Miller pulled his team of horses up to the town offices.
“Meant to tell you, Mike, these are beautiful horses,” Sheriff Burns said after he climbed into the wagon. When he ran his hand down the nearest one’s flank, the horse softly nickered, obviously accustomed to the attention.
“Shh! They’ll hear you and forget they’re supposed to work,” Mike said, half seriously. “Have you been up Hog Back since the power went down?”
“No, but Jeff Atkins has been here twice in that old pickup of his. Last time was two days ago and we haven’t had but a dusting of snow since them so it should be open,” Claude said. “How are you managing out on your farm without power?”
“Only thing I miss is the satellite TV, but I’m getting more work done without it. Oh, and the refrigerator, though with it cold out I leave stuff on the enclosed porch and it’s fine,” he replied. “I’m not real dependent on the power. How about you?”
“I’m okay, I guess. I fear for the town though, in all honesty. Not everyone is as independent as you are, Mike, so you be careful if people start showing up at your door.”
The horses plodded along, steady and strong though not very fast, which was all right with the sheriff. It had been too long since he’d taken some time off to enjoy life in the Rockies. The air was cold and clean and refreshed his spirit.<
br />
“The horses are never in a hurry, are they?” Claude commented, shifting on the hard wooden seat.
“They can be if I ask them to, I’m the one who isn’t in a big hurry, I’m rather enjoying this,” Mike replied. “We can make the time up going back. Even with the wagon empty, it’s still weight on them and we’re going uphill. I don’t want to exhaust them. Coming back they’ll be quicker going downhill.” Mike was quiet for a few minutes. “Sure is pretty up here, isn’t it? So quiet, too.”
The sheriff nodded, listening to the crunch of the hard snow under the wagon wheels. One of the horses snorted, and then a pileated woodpecker took to the air sounding its strange cry. A black squirrel scampered up a barren deciduous tree and chattered at the passing wagon.
“Do you venture up here often, Mike?”
“Usually only in the fall when I volunteer to take the schoolchildren on a hayride,” he said. “Riding around town sitting on the straw doesn’t excite the young ones like getting into the woods does. And then there’s the teenagers.” He grinned at the memory. “We leave at dusk for an hour. I tell ya though: those kids mess up the straw bales real good in that short time!”
The ten mile trek took them forty-five minutes.
“Whoa!” Mike called to his team. “What’s that up ahead?” He tied the reins loosely around a rail and jumped down into the calf deep snow.
Claude walked toward the drift of snow across the road. As he got closer he saw it wasn’t a drift at all.
“Looks like a small avalanche. It’s not too packed and it’s still settling.” He stepped as close as possible to check the signs, much as an animal tracker would. “This happened late yesterday or perhaps during the night. I’m fairly confident Jeff had already made it back to the resort. I tell ya, no one is going up or coming down for quite a while. See how far to the west it goes, will ya, Mike? I’ll check the east side.”
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