I thought of Frank and how he was likely trapped over in Cape Girardeau. It was about two hours away by car, but still over a hundred miles on foot. The four miles to the library seemed like a long walk, I could only imagine if Frank tried to walk back to Wilcox.
Ted went on to say folks should keep their freezers shut for the next couple of days and eat as much food from their refrigerators as possible. Then, work on cooking and keeping everything in the freezer. Canned goods should be saved and anything that could sit in the pantry should be eaten after food from the freezer was gone.
I wasn’t sure how long Ted thought this outage might continue, but I suspected the people of Kenton would eat better than normal for the next several days before facing any real trauma of low food supplies.
We were told to check with any families with children to make sure they had adequate food. Children would be the first hit with dehydration and malnutrition, and with many families probably having more food in their refrigerators or freezers than they could finish in a few days, it made no sense to have some children go hungry before food in town had a chance to spoil.
When Ted first started speaking, the mayor and the deputy seemed ill at ease. Their confusion and uncertainty of the situation seemed to let Ted take the reins even though doubts were evident. But as he spoke, I saw the look of confidence grow on the faces of Mayor Mueller and the lawman. Ted spoke as a man who had prepared for this day, and from the comments I heard, he likely had. He understood the limitations we faced, he knew what needed to be prioritized, and he even described the emotional state we were laboring under.
“What you are feeling,” he said, “is called ‘normalcy bias.’ It means the situation is so far beyond what you can consider normal, you are just rejecting it as reality. The facts, ladies and gentlemen, are this: we have no water, no food, no power, no transportation, and no help on the way. Every drop of water, every morsel of food, and every bit of help will come from the people in this room and how they react and respond to the reality we face.”
Thoughtful expressions turned panicked as those who listened really let the situation sink in. The knot that had been sitting deep in my gut ripped open as I realized what he was saying. My God! Lexi and Emma were in Chicago and I had no way of reaching them or even knowing if they were okay.
“David,” Anne said. She was bent over, helping to keep me upright. My knees had buckled and I discovered I was kneeling on the floor.
Ted had stopped speaking and just looked at the crowd. A wave of comprehension had swept across the room and there were more than a few people who had collapsed like I did.
“What do we do, Riggins?” Deputy Gary asked after a few seconds.
“We make a plan and we stick to it. When people start realizing what we are facing, they will need a plan to lean on.”
“Why are you asking him?” a woman exclaimed.
“Yeah,” a man added. “Who put him in charge?”
“He’s been talking about the end of the world for years,” another man said. “How do we know he didn’t have something to do with it!”
Kenny walked to the front and turned to address the room.
“I was in New Orleans when Katrina hit,” he said. “I was waiting on help after the storm, but help never came. I eventually walked out and found a group of people who got me to Shreveport. I thought maybe I could get help there, but there was no help. I didn’t have any kids and I didn’t have any family nearby. So, I caught a ride up to Memphis and then made my way back to Kenton.”
A few of the gathered men and women nodded as Kenny spoke. They had heard the story it seemed. Most of the others fidgeted and looked uncomfortable.
“I guess my point is, we can’t rely on anyone else. Especially not the government,” said Kenny. “We tried that in New Orleans when we should have been prepared and should have taken care of ourselves and each other. I would love nothing more than to see a car pull into Kenton with a group of men who will tell us where to go to make sure we have plenty of food and water, but after what happened in the sky last night, I don’t think that is in the cards. Do you?”
The room became silent. The sky was lit up from one side of the horizon to the other. Thousands of miles of sky all energized by something.
Mayor Mueller stepped forward and looked at Kenny and Ted. He turned back to face the volunteers. “These men are right. We have to be our own rescuers. If there is no objection, I am going to put Ted Riggins in charge of the relief effort officially.”
Nods and voiced affirmations greeted the announcement. Something as simple as the man elected to be in charge making a decision seemed to calm the nerves of everyone in the room.
“Thank you, Mayor,” Ted said as he pointed back at the white board. “I think we have everything we need today. We can meet again tomorrow morning and start figuring out what we have available and what we need. Remember to write down the situation of anyone who needs specific help.”
Anne let go of my arm I didn’t realize she was still holding.
“I guess we need to get going and start telling people what is going on,” she said.
“Yeah. But first, I promised my mom I would check on a friend of hers.” I held up the piece of paper with the address.
“Who does she want you to check on?”
“Ruth Walters.”
Anne sighed. “Ruth lives out in Gainesboro now. Her daughter set her up in the nursing home.”
“How long ago?”
“Maybe three years.”
I nodded and slipped the note back in my shirt pocket.
Anne smiled at me. There were a few tears in her eyes.
“I lost my mom the same way,” she said. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”
We walked out of the library as the mayor, the deputy, Kenny and Ted talked near the white board. Besides us, all the others had left.
“I heard you had moved back to town,” I said.
“Well nothing’s wrong with your memory, you must have heard that ten years ago,” she said.
“Has it been that long?”
She nodded. “Yeah. When Dad died, I quit my job in Denver and moved back here to help Mom.”
“You kept the stables going?”
“No. I still do taxes, just out of my house now instead of working for a big company. Mom decided having a bunch of horses was too much work. Bonnie and Clyde are enough now.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back for your folks funerals,” I said.
She laughed. It was a sound that pulled me back almost thirty years.
“David, if you had come to my dad’s funeral, he would have climbed out of that casket and tried to kill you.”
“Probably,” I said as a sheepish smile crept up my face. “But I should have come back for your mom, at least.”
“That is true,” Anne said. “Mom always liked you.”
I thought about just walking away, like I had thirty years before. This time I had nothing to gain by staying. Nothing but an old friend, anyway.
“I guess we better mount up. Are you riding in front?” I asked.
“Maybe. Are you a better rider than you were in high school?”
“Hey,” I whined with mock indignation. “I was a good rider.”
“No,” Anne said with a laugh. “You weren’t. And I can’t imagine you have gotten any better living in the big city.”
We walked over to the bike rack where she had tethered her horse. The crowd outside the library had started to thin out. Little clumps of people dotted the area, either catching up with neighbors and laughing, or listening intently to one of the volunteers that had been tasked with preparing the town for what was to come.