Perfect, we’re out of toilet paper.
She’d known two rolls wouldn’t last long with three suite-mates in her dorm, and sure enough the cardboard roll sat naked and dejected on the holder.
So nice of them to save me some.
She used the edge of her flip-flop to lift the toilet lid and nearly gagged. So much for the sign. No wonder it smelled so bad in here. Someone hadn’t flushed down their ‘brown.’ She grimaced as she looked around for their bucket of water. The college administrators had offered water to anyone that could provide something to put it in. Thank goodness one of her roommates had a clean fetish and kept a bucket in their room to wash her car. Without the water, they couldn’t flush at all. As she looked at the mess, she wondered why that fetish didn’t apply here.
She spied the bucket in the corner, filled with damp towels. Are you freaking kidding me? Someone had used the last of the water to bathe? She gathered her hair in her hand and brought it over her shoulder. She shook her head in disgust as she turned around and sat down. She couldn’t hold it any longer.
She breathed out a sigh of relief as she let her bladder go and cringed as she took in a new breath; the smell was awful. Only forty-eight hours and already it was unbearable. Between the stale, hot temperature of their room, the lack of a clean, working toilet, and the slapdash demeanor of the other students, she was ready to do something. Anything. She had to get out of there. If she could just make it past the security guard, she’d find a way home. It was only a little over an hour drive to her dad’s farm. How long would that take to walk? Maybe she could ride a bike?
But again—the security guard. She couldn’t believe the administration was trying to keep them here. They’d said, ‘for your own good.’ Good God, she was nineteen years old. That was old enough to join the freaking army, yet not old enough to be released during an emergency without parent’s permission? Who made that stupid rule? Graysie didn’t believe they could really hold them there. One old fart with a gun against a whole dorm? Yeah, right. It probably wasn’t even a real gun anyway.
She could probably put on her heels, make up her face, and saunter right in and make him believe she was just crossing to another dorm. Then she could high-tail it out of there. But she couldn’t leave empty-handed. And she couldn’t leave in heels. There was no way to get Sally—her Mustang—out of the secured lot, so she might be walking all the way home.
She sighed as she pulled her shorts up and looked for the hand-sanitizer. She couldn’t wash her hands, but at least it was something. She placed her hand under it and pumped.
Empty.
Dammit. They’d used all of that too. Thanks, ladies.
She stomped into their room with her hands on her hips. Becky had come back while she was in the bathroom and now she was on the bottom bunk—Graysie’s bed—brushing out her fake-blonde hair and reading a book. Her hair was damp. Graysie wanted to rip a hunk of the long strands right out of her head.
“Get off my bed, Becky. And thanks a lot for using all the water. Now we can’t flush the toilet. That’s disgusting.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “My hair was disgusting. I haven’t washed it in two days. What did you expect me to do?” She slowly climbed off of Graysie’s bunk, leaving strands of hair behind her with no regard. She was so clueless.
Graysie swept her hand across the bedspread, wiping the hair onto the floor. She laid down. “I expect you to go find more water to replace it. We’re going to need some to drink too. We’re almost out. You drank all yours too fast. I’ve got three bottles, and I swear if you take them, I’m going to kill you.”
Becky shrugged her shoulders. “I did go. The security guard said there’s no more water for the toilets, or bottled water. But I’ve still got a case of Monster Drink, so I don’t need your yucky water. They’ll have the power back on soon, anyway. And if they don’t, my parents will come and get me. I’ve got plenty of food, too.”
Graysie shook her head. Becky’s food consisted of junk: Oatmeal cream pies, Ramen Noodles that required water, and potato chips. Nothing healthy. Nothing fresh. “No, they won’t. Not unless they’ve stocked up on a lot of gas, and somehow, I can’t see your folks stocking up on anything.”
That was an understatement. Becky’s family lived a charmed life in a white-bread world where everything was always available to them at the touch of a button or wave of their hand. They were filthy rich; her father was a surgeon in high demand.
“And what if the power doesn’t come back on, Becky? My dad warned me about this. If the power went out everywhere all at once, there could be blown transformers. It might take more than just flipping a switch to get it back on. And most of our infrastructure is made up of parts from China. And what if it was China that hacked us? They’re not gonna give us those parts. It could be long while before power is back on. Which means it could be awhile before roads are cleared—and I did talk to Susan’s dad when he came to get her and he said it’s a nightmare out there. It took him two hours to drive ten miles. Once the refineries get power, the trucks have to be fueled up, and then loaded with the fuel to be pumped into the gas stations for the public. If your parents didn’t get here yet, it’s because they can’t. They’re out of gas. May as well face it.”
“We don’t know if the power is out everywhere. No one does.”
She had a point. Without communications, they had no idea if it was only the state capital affected, or the whole state. Or the whole country.
Becky fanned her hair out behind her and closed her eyes. “I don’t know how, but they’ll find a way,” she mumbled in a bored voice.
Another nap. Go figure.
Graysie hadn’t expected a logical answer from her anyway. Becky was a spoiled, rotten airhead. She was the princess of her world. She ate Graysie’s food, used her things, left a mess everywhere, never cleaned up after herself and relied on her parents for everything. She didn’t even have to work a part-time job. Her parents gave her $150/week allowance. She had it made.
So sure, in Becky’s little mind, they’d magically appear to take her home to their nice, air-conditioned McCastle overflowing with fresh food and drink. They’d run her right home and keep her in a fancy bubble until this all blew over and their little princess was safe and secure once more. Well, would if they could. Good luck with that, Becky.
She rolled her eyes and buried her face into her pillow. She had to get away before she strangled her roommate. She thought about her dad and Olivia at the farm. They had plenty of everything, and her dad was probably going nuts thinking this was the big event and wondering if she had figured that out yet. She felt bad about the years of eye-rolling and long sighs she’d given him every time he’d lectured her on what to do if something like this ever happened.
But is this really it?
If it was, it was much more serious than she was prepared for.
She gasped and sat up. Her bug-out bag! She’d been thoroughly annoyed when her dad had put it in the trunk of her car, and made her double-dog-pinky-swear she would never, ever take it out. Several times she’d wanted to throw it out to make room for something else, but then she’d think about the trusting look her dad had given her when they’d crossed pinkies. She couldn’t break his heart—again. Thank God!