Gabby sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, willing herself to calm down. Emma was right, there was no use being mad at Olivia. They couldn’t change the fact that they now had only one bag with one gun. And a small bag at that. She didn’t know what was in it, but couldn’t be much. They’d just have to make do with what they had. They were probably luckier than most of the people in this tourist town, she doubted many carried a Get-Home bag at all. Now they just needed a way to carry all this other stuff. Emma and Olivia could each hold a bag on their lap, if they had one. She studied the huge pile on the bed.
“Emma, you sort this stuff. We can’t take it all. We need the water, the phones, one hat each, one clean shirt each, a pair of socks each—pack three pair even though Olivia doesn’t have shoes—and any jewelry or valuables we have here. Also, get our wallets, my Chap Stick, and sunglasses for all of us. Roll the clothes tight to make more room. Olivia, you need to take real sneakers, not flip-flops. Hurry. I’ll make us a something to carry it all in.”
If only they could have a do-over. In a situation like this may be, they needed all their guns. She wished they’d listened to Grayson and started carrying concealed on their person or in their purses. And she wished they’d all brought sturdier pants; a pair of jeans at least. All they had were shorts, dresses and bikinis.
Olivia cringed. “I didn’t bring any sneakers. All I have are flip-flops and sandals.”
Omigod. This can’t get any worse. Gabby ran her hands over her face and shook her head. Ignoring Olivia, she snatched the scissors out of her make-up case and grabbed the largest T-shirt in the pile. Probably a workout shirt, or sleep-shirt.
She laid it flat on the other bed and cut off the sleeves, going in further than the seam, turning the T-shirt into a tank-top. She cut the collar out of the middle, making it more of a deep scoop-neck-tee, turned it inside-out and cut thin strips four to five inches long across the bottom of the shirt, fringing it, and finally tied the knots together, two at a time. She finished the entire row across the bottom of the shirt, and then started from the other side tying knots again to the knot next to it until the bottom was double-secure. She flipped the shirt right-side out and held it up.
“A tote-bag! Where’d you learn to do that?” Emma grabbed it and shoved as much of the new pile that would fit into it. The newly-cut shoulder straps made perfect handles.
“Pinterest.” Gabby hurried to make one more, finishing in minutes and stuffing it with the rest of the pile. “Now come on, we’ve got to go!”
The girls rushed out of the room, looking over their shoulders at all they were leaving behind. All their stuff; sandals, clothes, books, hair products and equipment, three little black dresses hanging in the tiny open closet, bought for a night out; and most of it was new, bought just for this trip. It was painful to leave it. As Gabby looked at the scattered strappy heels and wedged sandals slung across the floor, she wished she’d brought an extra pair of sneakers for Olivia.
And Olivia would wish she had as well, before it was all over.
12
JAKE JUMPED off his bike and into the fray—into a blur of fists and elbows flying.
He couldn’t make out who was fighting who, or who was trying to break up the fight. It was a bloody, sweaty pack of middle-aged, angry men.
Wives were screaming. Kids were backed up against the brick drive-way wall, quivering in fear at seeing their daddies fight. Babies were crying. It was mayhem and chaos.
Normally, he was a laid-back guy, but under the circumstances, he threw his own weight into pulling the guys off one-by-one and slinging them onto the ground. With the help of Kenny—who really wasn’t much help at all—and a few of the other neighbors who until Jake arrived had been standing back out of the fight, he managed to break it up.
“What… the hell… is going on?” he yelled at the crowd, huffing and puffing through his words.
Tucker may have been the nicest guy there, but he was probably the one guy in the ‘hood that Jake wouldn’t ever want to go up against. He was lean and ripped with muscles and heavy into mixed martial arts, having several black belts in some type of Kung Fu stuff. Right now, he was spittin’ mad. He swiped his arm across his red, sweaty face and stared daggers at Curt, the HOA president.
Seeing Tucker angry was a rare sight. Tucker was a happy-go-lucky sort of guy who was the life of Tullymore. He and his wife, Katie, hosted most of the neighborhood functions, since the HOA couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses and organize anything. Katie was a phenomenal cook and a good friend to nearly everyone. The couple was very well-liked. But Tucker and Curt were sworn enemies; they just both rubbed each other wrong, no matter what the situation.
Tucker pointed at Curt. “This asshole thinks he’s the king of this subdivision. He came to get water out of my pool, without asking, and brought all his friends.” Tucker’s face was blood-red. The ones willing to go up against Tucker in this fight were probably regretting it about now. Curt huddled on the ground cradling one arm. Other guys, the typical HOA crowd, all stood bleeding and hurt, too.
Jake almost smirked. Good thing he and Tucker were friends.
He shook his head. “Y’all need to go on home now. It’s only been a few days. I don’t know why you think it’s okay to come on someone’s property and take anything, but it’s not. Things aren’t that bad, and I hope they never are. Besides that, we’ve been without power a few days before, so I don’t know why y’all are losing your minds over it.”
He picked his bike up and threw a leg over.
“Wait, Jake,” Curt, the HOA president yelled. “Where are you going?”
He bristled at being questioned by Curt. He didn’t owe these people an explanation and resented being put on the spot. “I’m going to pick up a part for my truck,” he answered anyway, always needing to keep the peace.
Curt dragged himself to his feet and puffed his chest up. Short and squatty, with his face so red, he looked like a fire plug. “The power’s been out a few days before, but never the cell service and internet and the power, all at the same time. We can’t get any real news from anywhere. We’re cut off from everything. But CNN talked about cyber-attacks the night before the lights went out and other stations have been talking about it since before the election. Your president has provoked China, Russia, Korea and just about every other country. I think this is war.”
Curt just had to get his stab in at Trump.
“No, our president just isn’t taking shit from anyone anymore. He’s making America great again!” someone in the crowd yelled out.
The group began to scream at each other again. Several ladies were silently crying. So this is what had been talked about in the few days he’d been holed up at home. They were probably right about this being different. Jake couldn’t remember a time all three services were knocked out at once. The world had been slowly going crazy. Maybe this was the big event Grayson had warned about.
“That doesn’t mean all hell has to break loose here.”
Curt continued, “All hell has broken loose everywhere. Some of us have been to town. There’s no more gas, no more food, and people have lost their minds, shooting at each other over the last of everything. It’s not safe to leave the neighborhood, even if we could.”