by P. A. Glaspy
Will smiled and continued on his way.
The sun coming up behind him was lighting the sky above and the landscape in front of him. That part of the state is very flat, so you can see a good distance. All Will saw were cars and trucks, buses and semis, none of which were moving, on a road that the snow was covering over quickly now that the warmth from travelers' exhausts was no longer on it. He did see some people out on the road not too far ahead milling about their vehicles. Great, more delays. He thought briefly about trying to find a way to skirt the area, maybe going off the road into the tree line, but if he could see them they could see him and heading off the road would only delay him further. And he could tell some of them already had. Will sighed and continued on.
The first people he encountered were a young man with a very pregnant young lady beside him. They approached him quickly.
"Excuse me, mister. Where did you come from? Do you know what's going on?" the young man asked.
Will stopped. "Hi. I came from about a couple of miles back. And no, I don't know what's going on. I'm sorry."
"Well, where are you headed? You got somewhere to go, somewhere warm to wait this out? My name's Spencer, by the way; this is my girl, Jessie. We're from West Virginia. We were heading to my mom and dad's for Christmas — they live in Little Rock. All I know is Jessie can't stay out here in this cold. I don't know what to do."
Will looked at the young couple compassionately. He noticed they both wore Converse sneakers; her coat would not come anywhere near zipping over her extended abdomen. He wore a black hoodie with a denim jacket over it. They had on t-shirts and jeans, and both of their jeans had rips and holes, which he knew was the style for young people nowadays but would be less than ideal for staying warm. He also knew that if the visions were indeed happening, this little family probably would not make it. He searched for something encouraging, maybe helpful to say. Nothing came to him.
"Guys, I wish I could help you, but I don't know what I could do; and I really have to keep moving. I'm heading to my parents' place as well, but it's still quite a few miles away; and neither of you are dressed for a walk like that; plus, I'm pretty sure Jessie couldn't make it. Right now, your best bet is probably to stay put and see if help shows up. If it doesn't, you're maybe a couple of miles from the next exit. You might be able to walk that, Spencer. If you guys have more clothes, you should put them on. Definitely some warmer shoes if you have them, and hats. It's supposed to stay below freezing today, so you should probably snuggle up in the back seat of your car. I'm really sorry but I have to go. Stay warm and good luck."
Will shifted his backpack back up onto his shoulders and started off. He didn't look back at them, even when he heard Jessie say, "Well, thanks … I guess. See ya."
He waved over his shoulder and kept walking. He felt like a heel, but there was nothing to be done about it. He couldn't be responsible for anyone else. He needed to get home, and he had to do that as quickly as possible. He decided to start ignoring people who spoke to him. He couldn't help any of them. Best to be rude and just keep walking. It would definitely get him home sooner … or so he hoped.
His new approach served him well for a little while. He got some rude comments — "thanks for nothin', asshole" — and rude gestures, but he didn't slow down; that is, until he ran into a guy standing beside a minivan full of kids. The man stepped out in front of him, so Will had no choice but to stop.
"Look, I need some help for my kids," he stated, as he motioned toward the minivan.
Will looked where the man had indicated and saw four small children peering back at him. They seemed to be close in age, probably between two and six. He then turned to the man standing in his path and replied, "Buddy, I'm sorry, but I can't help you." Will tried to step around him. The guy stepped back into Will's path.
"I don't think you understand. We've been sitting here for hours. No cops, no wreckers, nothing has come through. They're freezing! We need help!"
Will replied, exasperated, "What exactly do you think I can do? I don't have a wrecker, I'm not a cop … like I said, I can't help you. I'm just trying to get home."
The man's eyes lit up. "How far is that? Maybe we could go with you. We were heading to Oklahoma for the week to spend Christmas with my wife's family. We can't get there, and we can't make it back home. We live in Jackson. We were going to stop for an early breakfast right before everything died. My kids are hungry, thirsty …"
"Um, not to sound like an ass, but don't you have any snacks with you?" Will asked. "You were going all the way to Oklahoma with four little kids and no snacks? Or those juice boxes?"
The man's head drooped a bit. "We forgot them at home. We were going to run to the store after we ate and grab some stuff."
Will closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "I think you're about a mile from the next exit. If you can walk down there, you might be able to buy some stuff for your kids. I don't have anything, sorry."
"Wait, what are you doing for food? Surely you have something you can give me for them."
Will shook his head. "No, I don't. I ate a few hours ago and had every intention of having breakfast with my sister and parents this morning. I didn't plan for a hike." He felt the little white lie was justified since he only had four of the protein bars in his bag. If he gave them two, he might be hindering his own chance of getting home. Every man for himself now, dammit.
"I don't think I can leave my kids to walk a mile to maybe find some food. Their mom isn't feeling well."
Will glanced into the passenger seat and saw a woman slumped against the door with her coat over her like a blanket, eyes closed, shivering. "What's wrong with her?" he asked.
The man looked at her and back at Will. "She gets bad headaches, especially if she's stressed out. Needless to say, she's kind of stressed out right now. Could you go find a store and bring us something back? I don't carry a lot of cash, but I can give you like ten bucks. Maybe they'd have donuts, maybe some milk. You could get yourself something, too. You know, for services rendered."
Will shook his head again. "Man, I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to keep going. You should try to make it though. Good luck."
With that, Will stepped purposefully around the man and continued down the road. He felt bad for the guy and his family. But he had his own family to think of. Pretty sure there's going to be a whole lot of selfish people out there now, he thought. Might as well get in on it early.
The next exit was indeed about a mile from the interaction with the guy with the van full of kids. Will decided to get off the interstate and see if he could get some supplies for himself. As he walked up to the gas station, he saw people milling around outside. When they saw him, a few of them hurried over to him. The man who reached him first went straight to the point.
"Hey, man, can you spare five dollars? I don't have any cash on me and the manager will only sell for cash since the cards won't work."
Immediately wishing he had thought to stash his cash in small quantities throughout his clothing and bag, Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. I just need to use the restroom."
A woman who had come up as well snorted. "Ha! Good luck with that. The manager won't let you in unless you show him cash through the door."
Will moved through the small crowd. "Maybe I can offer something else in trade then. Y'all take care now."
"Wait! What have you got to trade? Can you get us some water, too?" the first guy asked. "I'll give you my name, address, cell phone number, email address, whatever you want. I'll pay you back as soon as everything comes back on."
"I can write you a check," the woman added. "It's good, I swear. I never carry cash anymore."
Will took in the scene: at least twenty people standing around in the cold waiting for someone to help them. And I'm pretty sure no help is coming. He replied, "Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, that faucet over there is a no-freeze hydrant. You should be able to get water out of it to drink if you have something
to catch it in." He pointed to a faucet sticking up out of the ground by the air machine.
The woman wrinkled her nose at it. "Is it safe? I only drink water out of bottles or indoor faucets or fountains. Lord only knows what might have been crawling on that out here."
Will smiled at her. "Yes, ma'am, it's perfectly safe. It's the same water that goes to the water fountain by the bathroom. If you're worried about a bug having been on it, you can let it run for a few seconds first. If you have any empty cans or water bottles in your car, I'd grab all of them and fill them. I think I'd rather have water a bug walked through than die of thirst. It might be a while before things come back on. "
She looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean? It's a power outage. A strange one, since my car quit, and my phone doesn't work, but I'm sure they'll get that all sorted out and have everything back up in no time. I don't think we need to get all paranoid here."
Will set his mouth to a grim line. "I sure hope you're right, ma'am. Excuse me, I really need to use the restroom."
Will continued on to the gas station's storefront. The manager was indeed standing there, arms crossed, behind a sign taped to the door that read, "Machine down. Cash only. No checks. NO EXCEPTIONS." Will reached for his wrist and took off his watch. It was a Bulova Precisionist that was worth over six hundred dollars. He held it up to the door. The manager peered through the glass at the watch, gave a curt nod, and unlocked the door. At the sound of the deadbolt turning, the people milling around rushed to the door. Will squeezed in and the manager quickly locked it back. Those outside started banging on the door and the glass front. The manager ignored them and turned to Will.
"Nice watch. What are you looking to trade for it?"
Will looked to the throng outside and walked away from the door. "I actually have cash. I just didn't want anyone else to know. I need to use the restroom, then I'd like to look around a bit, if that's okay."
"How much cash?" the man asked. "Prices are going up as we speak."
Will headed toward the restroom. "Enough. Be right back."
Once in the restroom, he locked the door and pulled the wad of cash out of his backpack. He had a thousand dollars in twenties and tens. He laid it out on the sink and began dividing it into one hundred-dollar piles. He took each pile and stuck it in a different spot. He pulled out the extra socks he had and rolled some up in those. He stuck a pile in each boot, one in the inside pocket of his coat, both front pants pockets got a stack, he put four in various sections of his backpack, and the last he stuck in his wallet, where it was expected to be. He used the facilities, then washed his hands and face in, thankfully, still warm water. He put his coat back on, grabbed his bag, and unlocked the door. He used the water fountain outside the restroom to fill the water bottle he had used so far. After it was full, he walked into the store.
The people outside had moved back away from the building and were shooting daggers at the manager. He ignored them, standing with his arms still crossed watching Will. Will walked the aisles looking for foods that were high in calorie count which would create energy, resulting in warmth. He took two full boxes of peanut butter crackers from a shelf; one cheese, one plain. All the protein bars he could find was his next choice. He grabbed all the beef sticks and beef jerky on the display. He took all of it to the register, grabbing some travel-size hand sanitizers on the way. The manager looked at him wide-eyed.
"You're buying all that? I told you the prices were going up. You heard that right? Everything is double whatever the price is on it."
Will eyed him suspiciously. "Really? Is that an edict from the corporate office?"
"Price is subject to change depending on the circumstances," he replied smugly.
"Whatever. Total that up and add two cases of that water by the door."
The man looked concerned. "Well, um, my register isn't working. It's gonna take a while to add all this up manually."
Will replied, "Fine. I'll give you a hundred dollars for it. Cash."
"No! That's not enough, not for double," the cashier complained.
"Look, buddy … I'm giving most of this to those people out there. If they get some food and water, they'll stop beating on your doors and windows and may even move along. So, be a decent guy and let me do this. It will save you a headache for now."
Will could see the man was trying to add up the price of the food in his head, but without his cash register or a calculator he wasn't going to get there. Finally, he said, "I'll take one hundred fifty. Final offer."
"Deal." Will pulled his wallet out and handed the clerk the cash from it, then reached inside his coat and pulled out the rest. "There's one sixty. Keep the change. Bag this stuff up for me."
Will pulled out a few of the food items and the sanitizers and put them in his backpack. The rest was placed in plastic bags by the clerk. Will took the bags and headed for the door. He stopped, turned back, and said, "Try not to be such a douche. This isn't your every day, run-of-the-mill power outage. You might want to consider that what you do now — how you treat people — could be how you get treated later. Just something to think about. You have a good day." With that, he walked on to the exit. On the way, he passed a display of maps. He grabbed one for Memphis, stuffed it in his backpack, and continued on. He didn't ask about buying it. He figured he'd paid enough.
At the door, the people outside saw that he was carrying bags and rushed to the door. He set the bags on top of the stack of water cases and spoke loudly. "I am willing to share this with you all, but you have to act civilized. No pushing, no snatching, no bullying. Back up and let me out."
The guy who had first approached him in the parking lot was standing by the door. He turned to the crowd and yelled, "You heard the man! Back up!"
The group backed up a few steps and watched with anticipation as Will was let out by the manager, who quickly locked the door behind him. Will set the food and water on the ground, pulling two of the water bottles out and adding them to his pack, too. He pointed to the man who helped move the crowd back.
"What's your name, fella?" he asked.
"Brandon. Brandon Callaway. Yours?"
"Will Chambers," he replied with a smile. "Look, Brandon, I really need to be on my way, so I'm going to put you in charge of doling this stuff out. I'd go with two bottles of water and two food items per person. There should be enough here for that. Then, I'd suggest everybody get some place warm. I have a feeling it's going to be a long, cold day."
"You've got it. And Will?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, man. You're a good guy," Brandon said, extending his hand to Will.
Will shook his hand, gave him a nod, and said, "I try to do what I can when I can. Good luck, Brandon."
"You, too, Will. Stay warm."
Will zipped his coat up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and started back toward the interstate. Under his breath he mumbled, "Again, probably not gonna happen."
Chapter 6
11:00 AM Central Standard Time
The lawn tractor slid on the icy road, but under motorized movement they made much better time. With the large trailer, they were going to be able to load a lot more supplies at once. They saw people still out in their driveways on the way back, even though it was still sleeting and snowing, with hoods up trying to start their cars. They received quite a few more curious looks, but no one approached them as they made their way back to Carly's house. On the ride over, Joel suggested they pull into the garage to stay out of sight of the neighbors, as they had done at his house. Unfortunately, Stan Wheeler, who lived across the street, was outside trying to figure out why his truck wouldn't turn over. When he heard the motor of the mower, which was quite noticeable with the lack of any other noises, he walked down to the street and watched them pull up. He came over as soon as they got in the driveway.
"Morning, Carly, Mr. Chambers. I see you've found alternate transportation."
"Oh, hey, Stan. Yeah, whatever is going on with the cars didn't s
top the riding mower. Score one for lawn care." Carly was climbing out of the trailer to unlock the front door, so she could get in and disengage the garage door opener. Her attempt to be dismissive went unnoticed.
"So, you guys got any idea what's going on? I can't get anything electronic to work to see if there's any news reports. The whole thing is kind of bizarre, isn't it?" he queried.
Joel motioned for Carly to go on as he replied, "No, we don't know much either. We're just getting Carly and her boys set up at our place. We have a wood-burning fireplace and camping equipment. We're better equipped for a situation like this. It's too cold out here to not have heat."
Stan cocked his head to the side with a questioning tone. "My gas logs are still working. Aren't yours, Carly?" He raised his voice at the end to get Carly's attention. She stopped after she unlocked the door.
Sighing, she turned around to face Stan. "Yes, for now. I just feel safer with my parents at their house. This is not your everyday 'the lines are down' thing, you know? I mean, is the gas still going to work after a while? How far does this reach? Have you heard any sirens or cars at all? At least there Dad has a gen —"
"A generation of experience that may help somehow. We really need to get busy. It was good to see you again, Stan. Stay warm now." Joel took the key out of the ignition, walked up the drive, and opened the door, ushering Carly inside. The gas logs were indeed still going, and the living room was warm, at least. Joel closed the door and peeked out the front window to see if Stan had left. He watched as Stan slowly turned toward his house, turned back to look at the mower, then headed inside. He seemed to be walking with a purpose. Joel looked at Carly.
"Does Stan have a riding mower?"
"I think everybody on the street does but me. Not that they all need one. The yards are tiny. I pay Wayne Hollis to cut mine. Why?"