Most of the neighboring houses on his road had been vacated; they were rentals, though there were a few locals who lived here, like John Dabbs, the widower who lived up the hill a ways. John was a pain in the ass. Whenever Ted and his wife, Meredith, were here, John would come knocking on the door asking for something, anything, from coffee to a screwdriver or to borrow the lawn mower. John was a mooch. The fact that he hadn’t been around likely meant he was visiting his daughter in Memphis. There were a couple of other full-timers, people Ted knew from the neighborhood association where they discussed things like upkeep on the road, and maybe doing some landscaping at the entrance, putting up a security light there. Ted was against both the landscaping and the security light. He didn’t want to make the road look more inviting, or easier to find.
His vacation house was located in what he considered a prime spot on the side of the mountain, not so high that it was difficult to get to, but high enough that he had a nice view. He and Meredith tried to drive down from Ohio at least one long weekend a month, and they’d talked about retiring here when the time came. He considered himself as much a local as anyone else in the area. He contributed with his dollars, in taxes and purchases made in the valley and beyond. He made legitimate complaints to the agencies who managed the rental cabins on this road, when the grass grew too high or repairs needed to be made, or when renters parked on the street or worse, in Ted’s own driveway. Why the hell would people think they had the right to park in someone else’s driveway?
Yesterday a sheriff’s deputy had knocked on his door and asked him to leave, because “tourists should go home while they could.” He was still pissed about that. He wasn’t a damn tourist, he owned this property, and so what if he didn’t live here full-time? This was still his property and he belonged here as much as anyone else did. They should’ve been asking for his help, not attempting to run him out of his own house. He knew how to run things, how to take charge and give orders.
If nothing happened, he and Meredith would go home when they’d originally planned to, on Sunday. If the CME did hit and it was as bad as it had been predicted to be, then they were in a good place right here. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’d be disappointed if the scientists were wrong and when this was all over nothing changed. There were opportunities to be had in a crisis, if someone—like himself—was smart enough to seize those opportunities.
Meredith walked onto the porch, phone in hand. “My texts won’t go through. It just keeps spinning and spinning!” Her voice trembled and her hands shook. He immediately got up and put his arm around her. Not being able to get in touch with the kids, or her family, would weigh on her. He didn’t want her upset, not with her weak heart.
“The systems are overloaded, with everyone trying to call and text,” he said soothingly. “You know everybody’s okay, you talked to them yesterday.” They’d been married thirty-four years, and he couldn’t imagine life without her. Almost losing her to a heart attack ten years ago had shaken him to his core. Ted didn’t like most people, their stupidity got on his nerves, but Meredith was his center. He’d do anything to protect her. She was soft where he was strong, but she didn’t need to be strong. He was strong enough for both of them.
Like him, she was fifty-six years old, though her skin was still smooth and her expression habitually pleasant. With her light brown hair and blue eyes he’d always thought she had an angelic quality to her, and it infuriated him when people took advantage of her.
She sat down and he resumed his seat; she was clasping her phone and looking at it as if she expected it to ring at any moment. “We should have gone home,” she said, not for the first time. “The gas tank is full, we would have made it.”
“We’re better off here.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “The kids aren’t there. They said they’ll be fine, and they have their own families to take care of. There’s nothing you can do to help them. They’re too far away.” Both his kids had moved out of Ohio right after college. Ted Jr. was living in Washington State with his new wife, and Kate had moved to Texas for a decent job. “They’re tough. They’ll be okay.” Not everyone in the family was tough, but that wasn’t his problem. “Your sister and your mother will just have to fend for themselves.”
He waited for another “but” that didn’t come. Meredith’s family was a big factor in his decision not to go home. They were constantly running to her with their problems, stressing her out, expecting her to give them “loans” when they overspent—which they never repaid—complaining about the deadbeat men her sister hooked up with when she kept choosing one loser after another, and their mother always defended her sister and guilted Meredith into coughing up more money. The last thing he and Meredith needed was to have to deal with those two leeches.
He’d never say so to her, but he hoped they both died. Meredith would be upset, but she’d be better off in the long run.
Thinking about it, he decided an electromagnetic pulse would be a better disaster than a CME. If a surprise attack had taken down the power grid without warning, no one would have been able to leave. Cars would’ve been damaged—some of them, anyway. The chaos would’ve been immediate and devastating.
No one would have come around to demand that he leave his own damn house.
A man could make a name for himself in a disaster like this one. Some would survive this crisis, even thrive, but others wouldn’t. He intended not only to survive but to be a leader.
There would be a meeting this afternoon at the elementary school. No one had told him about the meeting, and that stung a bit. He’d seen the news in an informational crawler on a Knoxville television station, shortly before his TV satellite had gone out, and he planned to be present. Someone had to tell these yahoos how to organize and what needed to be done. A lot of the people who lived around here had never traveled much beyond east Tennessee; their ignorance would be massive.
He scanned the valley, thinking. There would be food at the school, at the restaurants, at the convenience stores and gas stations. The liquor at the moonshine place would be as good as gold in the coming months. So would the apple butter and fudge and relishes at the country store next door to the moonshine cabin. Someone would have to take control of the available commodities.
Ted was good at taking control. He’d owned his own business for years. In the beginning he’d been at the tire store, that first location, seven days a week. He’d worked his ass off. Now he owned six stores and had competent managers in each one. It was no longer necessary that he be involved in the business, though he did like to drop into those stores unannounced and stir things up a bit to keep his managers on their toes.
His stores would suffer during this crisis, as would all commerce, but when it was over he’d rebuild. He’d get by. He was a survivor, and he’d take care of Meredith.
They had enough supplies on hand to get by for a short time. Everything else he might need was located in the valley below. All he had to do was take control of it. All he had to do was stir things up a bit.
Chapter Five
Olivia burst into the kitchen where Sela, Carol, and Barb were still preparing and canning as much food as they could. While the power was still on, the work couldn’t let up. “I heard from Josh!” she said, waving her phone at them, then burst into tears.