The crowd shifted, from one large gathering to several smaller ones. Sela stood back and listened, picking up bits and pieces of several conversations. Several men talked about security, making plans to start a community watch. One woman said she had her dehydrator working overtime, drying the last of the summer garden veggies. Another was making soup and canning it. Eventually the last of the panic faded, at least outwardly, and was replaced by preparation. Sela could only hope it was the same everywhere, though she knew it wouldn’t be.
The sound of her own name caught her attention and she snapped her head around.
Barb smiled at her, looking smug. “I nominate Sela.”
She should have paid better attention to that particular conversation. “What?” No good ever came of being nominated for anything.
“We’ll need someone to be in charge.”
“In charge of what?” It didn’t matter. Thanks, but no thanks. Being in charge wasn’t in her DNA.
“Getting things organized,” Nancy replied. “You have common sense, and your ego won’t get in the way.”
No, no chance of that. But the idea of being in charge of anything other than her store and herself filled her with a sense of dread. “Really, I don’t think—”
Barb interrupted. “The people who don’t want leadership are the ones who should have it. The ones who shouldn’t be in charge are always the first to raise their hands. There are assholes everywhere.” She darted a quick look in Olivia’s direction to see if the teenager had been close enough to hear. She wasn’t, and likely Olivia and her friends said much worse than that, but still. “Pardon my French,” she added in a lowered voice.
The next thing she knew, Sela was surrounded. Not just by her aunt and friends, but by several other smaller groups. There were fifteen houses in this little neighborhood, and at quick count it appeared that every home was represented by at least one resident. And they were all looking at her.
“So?” Barb prodded. “What do we do?”
Neighbors ranging in age from five to seventy-five looked at her as if she should have all the answers. She threw a panicked look at Mike Kilgore, but he held up his hands and shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have the patience. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, but I know my shortcomings.”
The thing was, Sela knew hers, too, and being forceful enough to lead anything wasn’t in her wheelhouse.
On the other hand, what they needed at this point was organization more than leadership. She ran her store, kept the inventory ordered and organized. She could do that much, get them at least on the same page so things that needed to be done got done but efforts weren’t duplicated.
Olivia was watching her. If she refused, what would that teach Olivia about stepping up, about being strong even against her own inclinations? She wasn’t Olivia’s only role model, but still—being a role model sucked.
She blew out a breath, thought a minute, then said, “We need a plan not just for this street, but for the entire community.” There were about six thousand residents in Wears Valley, give or take. Thanks to the topography, they were pretty spread out. It was a rural area, an unincorporated township. They had no organized form of government. “Okay, everyone think. While we still have phones and internet, let’s contact everyone we can and set up a community center.” There was one logical answer. “Tomorrow afternoon, if we get hit the way they say we will, we’ll meet at the school. Everyone who wants to attend can, but at the very least each neighborhood should be represented. We need a list of residents, their addresses, next . . . next of kin and how to contact them.” That was hard to say, but had to be put out there. “Put the word out, try to get as many people to attend as we can. The people who can walk the distance, should, to save gas. At the very least people should share rides. Once we’re there, we’ll make a plan for the days to come.”
Days, she said, not weeks and months. She didn’t want to bring the panic back to those who had managed to dismiss it.
“We can elect a community leader at that time.” So far as she knew, they didn’t even have a county deputy who lived in the area, but she might be wrong about that. There was a forest ranger, she thought, but she’d heard he retired.
One thing for sure: her little neighborhood might have nominated her to get things organized, but she certainly wouldn’t be voted on to lead the entire community.
One of the men who’d been talking about upping security spoke up. “Who’s going to contact that Jernigan guy up on Cove Mountain? He’s retired military, right? That’s what I heard. He’d be an asset.”
If they only knew. Sela and Carol both kept their mouths shut. No one needed to know Jernigan had given them a heads-up about the solar storm several hours before everyone else found out.
A few people nodded their heads in agreement and one asked if anyone had his phone number.
It appeared no one did, no surprise there, and eventually Mike Kilgore offered to drive up in the morning and ask Jernigan personally to join in on the community plans. The men would no doubt prefer someone like Ben to be in charge, and to be honest so would she. But she didn’t think he’d agree. In fact, she was almost certain he wouldn’t.
As twilight deepened, a few people still stood around talking but most began wandering back to their homes, to prepare, to wait, to call loved ones they might not be able to talk to for a while. Maybe some would cry, or try to convince themselves that despite the warnings nothing would happen. Different people coped in different ways.
Sela was exhausted. She murmured a vague excuse about going in to check on something, though there was nothing to check, and went back into Carol’s house. It had been a hellish—and hellishly long—day, and she just wanted to go home. Home wasn’t possible just yet, unless she was willing to leave Carol and Barb to do all the work of canning their produce, which she wasn’t.
She began pulling stuff out of the refrigerator to throw together a meal. Perishables first, she thought. That meant the luncheon ham needed to be eaten. Okay, ham and cheese sandwiches it was.
Olivia was teary-eyed when she came inside, just ahead of Carol and Barb. “I want to talk to Josh,” she said, “but he isn’t answering his phone.”
“He’s probably on duty,” Sela said practically. “Every active-duty soldier will be preparing. Send him a text, tell him to call whenever he can regardless of the time.” Carol had to be as worried about her grandson as Olivia was, but she was holding it together for her granddaughter’s sake.
As far as that went, Sela wanted to know that her cousin was safe, too, and maybe find out some preparations the military was making. And after that she wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, though she doubted sleep was coming anytime soon.
First, though, there was work—a lot of work. They had to do what they could while the power was still on.
Chapter Four
Mike Kilgore was a man who kept his word; he set out the next morning for Ben Jernigan’s house, high on Cove Mountain. He didn’t look forward to his task, because from what he’d heard Jernigan wasn’t the friendliest man in the valley, but Mike had been in the military himself and he figured that might give them some common ground . . . or not. He wouldn’t know until he got there.