Some Days Aren't Too Bad

a work in progress :)

your comments, suggestions and critique of writing and the info and actualy, any aspect of the story would be appreciated on the Comments for Some Days thread


Some Days Aren’t So Bad

By LMonty911

Copy write reserved to author



Introduction



And then there was light.



Millennia uncounted passed.



Viewed from far away, the living planet appeared benign and welcoming. The thin halo of atmosphere twinkled as weather systems swept across the surface of land and giant blue oceans of liquid water. A casual observer might think the surface stable and solid.



The casual view was deceiving. The cool crust floated on a mantle of rock made plastic by the heat of the planets core, where temperatures were not much lower than the surface of the nearby star. The temperature gradient drove convection currents of molten rock slowly upwards until they cooled and dropped again to the superheated depths.



The solid surface fractured from the alternating stresses. The spinning top of a planet bulged ever so slightly at the equator, continually adjusting its balance and mass to maintain an even rotation. Crustal plates rubbed against each other, affected by the relentless convection motions they rode. At some intersections, the solid crust was driven down, recycled into the molten depths below. Opposite those subduction zones, the growth of the plates was fed by upward bound molten rock that cooled as it took its turn on the planet surface. The surface rocked and shook, as sudden shifts relieved the unequal pressures below.



Mountain ranges formed where plates collided. Vast oceans camouflaged the deepest trenches. Immense internal pressure pushed liquid rock and gasses thru to the surface near the edges of plates in cataclysmic explosions. Volcanoes bloomed red wherever weaker portions of the crust cracked to allow the pressure to release.



The titanic battle for balance marched on. The swirling planet continued its seemingly eternal pirouette about its star. On the roiling surface of Sol giant explosions released tentacles of energy that invisibly licked at portions of the planets surface. The atmosphere of Earth absorbed and reacted to the input. Storms raged. The oceans fed the storms and danced with them. The molten currents within reacted to the forces. The crust bulged and changed to balance the spin



As the planet matured more stable periods developed. The crust appeared to move little for millennia. Volcanic eruptions became less frequent. Many of the now quiescent giant volcanic calderas of the planets youth weathered to unrecognizable plains and hills, rarely venting the still active magma below.







The need to balance the spin persisted. Bulges of plastic regolith resulted in the tiniest wobble at the Earth’s axis. When millennia of small adjustments failed, earthquakes increased in frequency and dormant volcanoes awoke. Tectonic plates jumped and shifted in the geologic twinkling of an eye - an avalanche of continents.



Coastlines submerged. New land rose from oceans struggling to find their own balance as the depths beneath them rose or fell. Giant sheets of ice covered land formerly temperate. Frozen continents now closer to Earth’s equator warmed.



Cataclysmic pole shifts punctuated epochs of relative stability. In one of those quiet times, life appeared. Complexity increased. Deep in the blue seas and upon the cool surface beings crawled, walked and flew. The Creator looked upon His handwork, and saw that it was good. His breath stirred the dust. For the first time on the planet, a species looked out upon its world and dreamed.



Man adapted and spread throughout the ever but so slowly changing world he inhabited. The tenacious species was nearly annihilated during the pole shifts that occurred since his appearance. In the most recent quiescent period, Man’s own complexity increased. The cultural memories of the last pole shift became oral legends and then written records of a great flood.



Solar radiation cycles bathed the planet in energy. The buffering atmosphere transmitted energy to the plastic asthenosphere kilometers below. A bulge appeared in the planets solid iron core. It grew buoyant as gravity from passing celestial bodies pulled it outward into the asthenosphere. Convection currents shifted. Iron melted, displacing the equilibrium of the convective flow. Balance lost.



Distracted by the second of his great World Wars, Man remained unaware of the greater conflict beneath his feet. Decades passed. The wobble of the axis increased ever so slightly as the oblate sphere stretched and the crust uplifted near the poles. The spinning top whirled incrementally faster. Closer to the equator, plumes of magma exploited fragile cracks in the depths of the crust as the gigantic pressures built upon the edges of the tectonic plates. The seismic precursors of the next great pole shift- volcanism and earthquakes - increased in frequency and intensity.



Equilibrium would not be denied. An unbalanced Earth shook her skin to smooth the wrinkles beneath. Giant quakes ensued as the continents seemed to skitter across her surface. Surging oceans reclaimed shore lands long lost to them and exhaled long submerged mountains and plateaus as the plates settled.



It took just days, as Man counted time, for the balance to be restored. Geologic balance. For the stunned remnant of the human race on the surface, the shift had just begun.

It was cold.



JJ suspected she’d feel it more keenly before the day was done. Grass-green eyes squinted at the thermometer hanging on slanting porch railing-16 degrees. The warmest day so far. Glancing at the sky, disappointment overrode her physical discomfort. She had hoped that today would be the day the sun came back.



There hadn’t been much sun at all in the last few weeks. Oh, she supposed it was still up there, but the persistent clouds filtered out remembered warmth. The view from the cabin door was somber. A surrealistic charcoal landscape of dirty snow and black shadows-early dusk at best, but it was only 9AM. At least she could see the view from the cabin now. The first three days, the few times she’d gotten up enough courage to look, the darkness had been complete.



They’d worked hard for the cabin, she and Greg. They’d had to, and she smiled a bit recalling that-they’d met late, survivors of broken relationships. Just like many in their generation, they’d followed an “enjoy it now” mentality that had left them with nothing- except experience in how to do things wrong. One of the many things they shared was a drive to work for security.



Years of hard work and a little luck brought them a small home in the suburbs. Several more went by spent stashing money in hopes of buying property up North, dreaming of the eventual retirement home they would build there.



Then opportunity knocked. A sudden job offer sent the spouse of one of JJ’s coworkers scurrying back to his Silicon Valley roots. When Sally had complained about having to sell her Dad’s old hunting camp from a distance, JJ indicated an interest.



The next weekend she and Greg made the three hour ride to the small town the cabin was closest to. A library sat on the corner that boasted the town’s one stop light. A chain grocer faced the tiny post office, and an old-fashioned hardware and dry goods store serviced the county farmers, handymen and housewives from the remaining corner. Sipping coffee in the Main Street Cafe, they could see the rest of the town’s storefronts stretch down both sides of the street towards the inevitable bank and grade school. Halfway to the land, they passed the small medical clinic run by the nearest hospital alliance.



The seven mostly wooded and secluded acres a half mile from town bordered on a branch of the big river. JJ could almost see the lithograph cover of “Five Acres and Independence”. The dilapidated buildings and overgrown fields of the hunting camp were probably an old homestead. It would take an enormous amount of work before they could retire there. Having just left forty behind, they‘d have to go slow….but she never doubted Greg’s ability to pull it off.



JJ smiled again as she remembered. They hadn’t even talked about it. Greg had crawled around under the cabins porch, checking out the structural soundness. When he’d come out and dusted himself off, he’d pulled her into his arms in a tight hug. Looking upwards he’d whispered “Thank You, Lord” and it was done.



They jumped at the opportunity to buy it. The remaining savings just about stretched to making it habitable. Two years of weekends and summer vacations transformed the ramshackle cabin. They hired local teens to help with the renovations. When JJ’s kids came to visit, they helped fence in what had one been a farm field for the horses she had hoped to buy this coming spring. The side field held a substantial garden now sleeping under cover crops. A couple of small solar panels bloomed on the new roof that Greg sweated over the first two months. A wood cook stove dominated the kitchen. The tiny living room fireplace sported a new insert that actually kept the house cozy on the winter weekends they spent there the second year.



Greg converted part of the ramshackle barn into an ample workshop. One of the remaining stalls served as a chicken house for a half dozen Rhode Island Reds. JJ was ecstatic over the surprise find they made by the side of the barn-an old spring house and root cellar.



She’d evicted the four and eight legged squatters with a vengeance. The door was rotted through, and Greg replaced it with one made from salvaged barn boards as thick and heavy as steel. Rusted pipes that guided the trickling spring and ventilated the dry room were replaced with new PVC. The old oak wall separating the more humid spring room from the dryer storage section was still as solid as the rock it rested on. Greg bolted shelves to it for her.



JJ moved her growing pantry and stored supplies to the cooler location. The dry room that stayed about 55 degrees year round was the perfect storage place for them. The second winter they also held a few bushel baskets of root crops from her newly dug garden and apples from the old trees she had pruned the first spring.



Then following year they made the impetuous decision to move there permanently. As the economy slowed the slump in the new housing industry left Greg unemployed, and good paying jobs hard to find. But as new housing starts slowed their little house was suddenly worth quite a bit more than what they owed on it- and it sold in weeks. Greg worried they’d made the jump too early, wondering if the equity from the suburban house sale would last.



By their third Christmas in the north life had settled into a comfortable routine. JJ’s part time work at the clinic brought in enough cash to pay the taxes and most other expenses. She had plenty of time to make the forty mile round-trip drive to the University twice a week for classes. Clinical rotations at the hospital in the next county were done for the year. One more semester and she’d have her Nurse Practitioners license. The town’s two doctors had invited her to join the medical clinic as a provider when she graduated. The offer was everything she’d hoped for. Greg’s old truck and portable welder spent even more time on dusty back roads after he let it be known that a little barter was a good thing.



Two weeks ago-they had seemed so close to living their dreams. Greg had his own business. She had the start of the homestead she’s longed for and a rewarding medical career in the offing. They’d made friends in the tight knit community, their skills opening doors that other new residents might have spent years knocking on.



Two weeks ago- had it been only two weeks?



That’s when the Change came. JJ wasn’t sure what had really happened, so calling it the Change seemed about right. She’d gone to bed one night before the New Year; after a quiet evening making fresh bread and lazy love together-and had woken to a nightmare that went on and on…



“Hon, don’t stay past two, I want to make sure you’re back by dark or I’ll be after you no matter what!” She startled out of her reverie. Glancing back to the cabin doorway, JJ saw Greg leaning against it, his bad arm hanging lower in the sling than it should. She shuddered with cold and an even colder reality, carefully ascending the hastily patched porch steps.



Adjusting his sling, she tried not to notice his wince. The left forearm had been probably broken but the bones appeared in good alignment. She’d redone the splint that morning and although the swelling was almost gone, it still hurt when he moved it. She breathed a sigh of relief looking at his hand. The first week, she’d thought the wounds and subsequent infection so bad that he might lose it. She still couldn’t look at it without that sinking feeling she’d had when she first saw it.



He caught her glance and interpreted it correctly. Laughing, he pulled her to him with his good arm, giving her a quick hug.



“JJ, my butt still hurts where you kept sticking me with the dog penicillin, but my arm hasn’t been too bad in days”. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “Never mind, wait a few minutes, and I’ll come to town with you. Come back in here and give me a hand with my jacket”.



“Greg, are you sure you’re ready for this? You haven’t been up much since, well, since that.” She pointed to his arm. “It’s pretty rough walking in that snow, and if you slip-“



“Mom, I’m a big boy now!” Greg laughed. “It’s about time I got around and checked things out in town. Let’s not argue again, OK? I don’t like you going alone. Besides, I want to know what’s happening and they may need me, too”.



JJ agreed- but her first concern was keeping him well until he healed completely. She couldn’t imagine facing the next years with him a cripple, or even worse. She shied from that thought as she had hundreds of times in the last two weeks. She’d come so close to loosing him that the fear was still near the surface.



She harbored the awful suspicion that he might be all she had left. The boys-well, she didn’t know, but feared the worst. The morning before the Change she’s talked to Kyle, he was picking up Heather and heading their way…one more day and they’d have been safely sleeping in the guest room when the quake hit. The first week, she kept hoping they’d show up. Now she just kept trying not to think about it. Any of it. How the rest of their families and close friends may have fared…



But there had been little else to think of. The quake, and what might come next…and what would be left. As her life stabilized the last few years, the outside world had become more chaotic. She’d followed it on the Internet. First the Indonesian quake and tsunami, then the dozens of natural disasters that followed. The earthquakes had come first, then the storms. Florida was still digging out from under the fall’s devastation. California shook way too often, and she sometimes wondered if their Silicon Valley friends they’d bought the cabin from had escaped the 8.2 .



Just as one disaster ended it seemed another flared to grab the public attention. Cable news was awash with survivor’s stories and body counts. JJ wasn’t surprised that church attendance was at all time highs this past Christmas. She’d been grateful she and Greg were in a safe place. She thought of it as their own retreat from the rumblings of man and nature. The ground seemed so firm there, in the North of Middle America.



They’d even seemed insulated when the economy started to crumble after the big California quake last spring. She grew even more of their produce to make up for the intermittent shortages and spiraling costs. Greg insulated the greenhouse, putting in a passive solar heating system that would allow them to grow fresh salad greens and hardy crops much longer then their Zone 4 neighbors were used to. The wood for the stove came from their land, bought free and clear- without mortgage and heating bills they’d done well. The barter system in force in their county grew even more common, as dollars ran thin a quiet underground economy slowly formed. JJ’s medical job ensured her a modest cash flow more dependable than most-and selling a couple of litters of pups a year helped.



Greg’s boundless but realistic optimism had been a good foil to her somewhat pessimistic concerns. At first he had scoffed at her growing concerns about terrorism threats and the increasing natural calamities. After they married, he sometimes teased her about the Y2k preps she’d made before they met, or what he called her “obsession” with self-reliance. But what she’d learned before the Rollover had made an indelible impression-civilization wasn’t as secure as most people assumed.



After the Boxing Day Earthquake, she’d spent her spare time been reading what she could find about geology. The increasing activity of the mantle fed the ever present debate between the Catastrophists and the Uniformitarians until it had flared to an epic battle, with scholarly punches thrown in forums through the worldwide geological on-line community. JJ read with growing concern. Some of the more outlandish theories began to seem all too possible. After the 6.0 in Tennessee in September the debate took on all the glory of a dusty school yard brawl. JJ calmed her unease by filling even more shelves in the root cellar, canning as much as possible of what she could grow or buy.



Greg didn’t say much about it. At first he’d been dubious that any of it was likely to affect them or cause serious changes, and she’d learned to not bring it up. But as the reports kept getting worse, he’d seemed more accepting of her concerns. During the past harvest season he’d been busy with dozens of small agricultural equipment repairs. After some jobs he brought home bags of grain and potatoes that he’d taken in payment. JJ didn’t know if it was because the farmers were strapped for cash, or if Greg asked for the barter. Some things were better not talked about. It was enough that he’d helped fill the shelves. A week after CNN announced to the world that the New Madrid fault line appeared active he’d come home from a day long job with an old deer rifle.



The two foot snow had drifted off, and a rough trail had recently been broken through. They agreed it looked like a rider on horseback may have recently passed. Greg’s rifle sat in the cook of his good arm as they crunched down the road. It seemed natural, and that was one more shift for JJ to wonder at. It just didn’t fit what she knew of Greg.



“It’s too quiet, hon.” Greg frowned. His head swiveled from side to side as it had since they’d stated the walk, “Something’s not right”.



She stopped. Slowly turning to face him, she took a deep breath, and Greg wondered if he’s ever seen that expression before on her face. In a quiet, strangled voice, she whispered “Something’s not right?” At first her laugh seemed ironic-then her features twisted with bitterness, and she burst out “Something’s not right?”



It was hard to separate the sobs from the laughter by then, as sinking to her knees she spit out “For Gods sake Greg, we had an earthquake that destroyed only God knows what, and that’s not RIGHT since we live in area that’s seismically quiet. Radio, TV, power- every bit of infrastructure we depend on is gone; dammit, it’s gone- and we don’t even know what happened…or what happened to everyone we know and love. My kids... You damn near died, Greg, you damn near left me alone, and there’s no damn sun anymore, and all you can say is SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT?”



Greg dropped to his knees beside her as she took a ragged breath. The rifle fell in the snow beside him as he grabbed her, as the words tumbled out between the sobs. They rocked together for long minutes as she sobbed the details of the days he couldn’t recall.

Greg had been unconscious or confused for most of the first three days. She had told him that, after he’d gotten better. He remembered a few hazy flashes, still pictures almost, of her sitting there reading, or when she’d changed his bandage. He remembered the pain, the awful headache that seemed to consume him, and thought he knew most of what had happened. But until now he hadn’t realized just what it had been like for her. He did remember getting up that night, the dogs had woken him.



They’d been unsettled for hours before bedtime. Jason had woken him, whining and nosing at him in an unaccustomed way. Faith was coming into heat-and it wouldn’t be the first time that had lured the usually reticent coyotes closer. Strong kennel fences for the outside dogs had been one of his first projects and they hadn’t failed him yet. He’d let Jason out under the light of the full moon, certain the big lab’s presence would dissuade any unwelcome four legged suitors.



He recalled it had been quiet then, too. An unnatural quiet, the usual forest sounds stilled; once the door had opened the frantic barking had stopped, and just an occasional uncertain whine from the kennels reached him on the porch. He’d stood there awhile, drinking in the beauty of an incredible display of the Northern Lights. They were even more colorful and impressive then they’d been this past week, everyone in town had been talking about them.



Then the rumble started. A distant freight-train of a rumble that at first that seemed to reverberate in his bones, then set his back teeth on edge as it grew louder. The dogs heard it too, whining and barking; jumping against the chain link with an instinctive need to escape the kennel fence. The last thing he remembered clearly was trying to make sense of the undulating waves of the front yard as the porch suddenly tilted. He managed to stay upright for less than a minute before a falling porch beam struck him.



Now it poured out. How she’d been woken as the quake hit, screaming for him, battling with a tangle of bedclothes on the rocking cabin floor. When the shaking stopped and he still hadn’t answered, she’d gone looking. JJ found him unconscious, thrown mostly clear of the collapsed half of the porch he’d been standing on.



No phone, no power-the quake had taken both out. No signal on the cell phone. She’d struggled to free him from the wreckage of the porch, terrified she was already too late. He’d roused enough for her to get him to his feet and support him the steps of the root cellar. She was uncertain how safe they would be underground, but more frightened that the cabin might not stand the aftershocks she anticipated.



Her first trip back to the cabin had been for her medical bag. She’d splinted his swollen arm, assessing him for other injuries and finding little but a torn left hand and a growing hematoma near his right temple. He was out cold again by then. She’d never been so grateful to see a patient withdraw from the pain when she sutured his hand wound.



She told him about the next few hours. She’d watched him breathe, hugging him, hoping against hope his neck was OK and help would come. Afraid the head injury might be more serious than a simple concussion- there was no way she could get him to the hospital alone. Checking outside she saw the clouds rolling in and the snow starting.



She’d made short trips up, leaving him for just a few minutes each time, torn between staying and the tasks she knew needed done. She’d fumbled with the unfamiliar valve of the kitchen stove’s propane tank –knowing that leaving it on might result in fire if an aftershock split a connection. She freed the two kenneled dogs and dumped the bag of remaining food on the barn floor, assuming they wouldn’t go far but not sure that she could get to them if another strong quake hit.



Her shaking slowed a bit as the catharsis continued. Her voice got stronger as she answered his questions, explaining how she’d moved everything she thought they might need from the cabin down with them, where the bulk of their preps were already kept. How she’d screamed for Jason on each trip, hoping the lab would come to her call. Without the LED headlamp she’d kept in the bedside table she would never have been able to find the camping gear stored in the barn.



Hours passed as she alternated between lying next to him- as much for the thin comfort it gave her, she admitted; then to keep him warm. The wind howled and in the late morning that never came, the snow itself turned black as the sky. She tried to cushion them both with blankets and sleeping bags when aftershocks shook the shelter.



The storm rose in intensity. By evening the wind was too strong for JJ to stand against. Three days of darkness, of storm and dropping temperatures. Or she thought it was three days. Hard to be sure when she’d slept in fits and starts, caring for Greg; peeking outside as often as she dared. Time passed in a blur of fear and cold punctuated by rumbling aftershocks and howling winds. The small quakes grew rarer. The storm abated, and she checked outside more frequently. Faith and Hope were back safe in the kennel. Jason never came. Neither did help, but by then she had a feeling the cavalry was a bit busy elsewhere- for now she and Greg were most likely on their own.



JJ remembered the wind up Grundig. No commercial stations- but on the second day Pete Morrow’s call sign crackled through the shortwave receiver band-she recognized it from his license plate. The former Sheriff’s Deputy had become a Ham buff in his retirement and his truck and home sported an ever growing array of antennas. She’d laughed with relief for the first time since the quake, knowing their friend had made it through. Hope flared as she heard Pete answered that night.



Greg improved as the hours and the days passed. She’d fallen into a pattern. For warmth she ran the camp heater intermittently, unsure how long the dozen small fuel canisters would last. She spent most waking hours lying next to him listening to the shortwave, or reading from some of the books she’d brought from the cabin. Pete’s signal came through clearly but she could hear little of the increasing number of conversations crackling through the heavy static. The clouds lifted a bit, and the light outside improved enough for her to venture to the barn.



She rigged an expedient external antenna from scraps of fencing, running wire she’d found in the barn through the air outlet into the cellar. It helped a little. By the time Greg was finally aware of his surroundings, she could discriminate the voices of half-dozen Ham operators even if the messages were still unclear. She’d hung a road map from Greg’s truck on the cellar wall. By the light of a flickering oil lamp she’d plotted their approximate locations. The picture she was getting was as confusing as it was grim.



The Hams continued to transmit requests for information and assistance. Regular meeting times to call were set up on the frequency she monitored, but no official contacts were being made. Apparently the quake had been widespread, but she could still not hear enough to learn what had happened as the stations faded in and out. Rumors of unrest were coming in, in cities and areas not so far away.



Where were the authorities? JJ wondered-were they that isolated? How bad could it be? In just a few days, she expected that the National Guard would have things under control. Days went by and some of the operators dropped off. A few new ones were heard from. None reported any FEMA contact. State emergency management hadn’t been heard from either. She cursed not pursuing her old interest in shortwave, frustrated by the lack of ability to respond and ask questions, and the few scattered conversations she could really hear so little of.



Greg’s headaches passed and he was sleeping better. JJ didn’t know if the clinic was open, but she had keys. They’d have to wait until Greg was a bit stronger. The driveway was blocked by downed trees and there was no way she could handle the heavy chain saw herself. With one arm Greg couldn’t help.



Her frustration turned to fear the morning Greg woke with a fever, glassy eyed and mildly confused. The edges of the hand wound she sutured looked red and puffy. She snipped the sutures, and looked with dismay at the purulent drainage. She rapidly heated some water and irrigated it- and kicked herself- she’d left a wood splinter in the wound when she’d sutured it. An amateur’s mistake! She’d never done wound care by the light of an oil lamp before, but she still couldn’t forgive herself.



Minutes passed while she irrigated the wound with water and Betadyne and tried to clear her mind. Greg had an infected wound. The fever and constitutional symptoms indicated he was getting septic from the infection. At work, they’d admit him and start IV antibiotics while waiting for the wound culture report. She had no such luxury now- the clinic she often walked to was so close-but it might as well be a hundred miles away.



Monitoring the Ham channel she had learned enough to guess there would be no police car driving by to check on them, no ambulance to take Greg to the hospital. Leaving him to try to walk alone to town through the snow and cold was out of the question.



It was up to her. She had some oral antibiotics in storage- but this infection needed more. She had a decent stock of injectible veterinary meds she’d purchased for the dogs. She knew from past research they could be used for humans. It was still scary. Looking at his flushed face, she decided there was more risk not using them.



JJ hiccupped. It tore them both back to the present. Greg smiled, and she let out a tenuous giggle. “Oh, man, Greg, you’re right, something not right!” He kissed her cheek, wiping away the tears before picking up the rifle and using it as a crutch to help him rise-he was still moving stiffly, and the cold didn’t help. He bent down and helped her up.



“We’d better move before we both freeze, baby. Tell me the rest as we walk”.

There wasn’t much left to tell.



He’d been in and out of it for the next few days, and slept a lot even after he’d gotten better. She’d switched him to oral meds just about the time he’d bit her head off at “just one more shot”, not realizing just how close a call he’d had. The wound healed slowly. She’d been afraid to close it again. Greg would always carry the scar. So would she.



Greg had insisted they move back up to the cabin. She’d fought him on that, acknowledging the aftershocks seemed gone, but still worried. He finally admitted he felt trapped below ground and wanted out. The old cabin had handled the shaking pretty well. It still seemed structurally sound. Half the newer porch had collapsed, but with Greg supervising a little rough carpentry the steps were usable.



Pete had transmitted a message yesterday -there would be a community meeting in the grade school today. Several townsfolk had been checking outlying homes to pass the word. That was probably where the tracks in the road had come from. JJ guessed they’d been missed, but didn’t know why.



They’d debated going- Greg against her going alone, but not sure he could make the walk either, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. He was still convinced that services would probably be restored in a couple of days. Then they could drive in to town together. JJ wasn’t so sure. She’d tried to mention her concerns, but he’d brushed them off days ago. So she’d never voiced her tentative theory of just how bad things might be. She was adamant that she needed to get to town, check in at the clinic. He’d finally relented last night.



They climbed over another large downed tree. Greg whistled as they approached it, “Man, it must have been quite a shaker to bring this baby down-how many is that now- six big ones down in the road before we reach town? It’s going to be weeks before the road crews get this cleared. No wonder they haven’t gotten thru our way to get the electric back up. We’re probably at the end of the list, so few homes out this way”.



JJ bit her lip again as she struggled over the oak. Why argue, when the last few days things had been tense enough? After all, her theory seemed wild, even to her. If she shied away from it, Greg was likely to reject any speculation that far out. They were almost to town, and around the next bend they’d find answers-surely they knew what was going on there!



The phones were probably up in town, and the sheriff must have news from the state Emergency Preparedness agency. Greg was probably right, and she was worrying too much. But as she turned back to see if he needed a hand, she noticed the tracks he’d made near the tree. She stopped and bent down to take a closer look.



“Greg, look at this!” The path that had been broken days back had filled in a bit with snow drifting from the top layer, but the fresh tracks had cut through the snow like a cookie cutter in spots. “Look, the snow is layered”.



Greg carefully bent closer. “Yea, the first couple of inches are normal, but what the heck is that?” He pointed to a band that ran about an inch deep-a dull black, almost slushy layer of snow mix. Duller grey bands extended another 6 or so inches upwards. The foot of snow on top was a dull white, again mixed with bands of dull grayish snow at certain intervals.



JJ frowned. “That’s got to be the black snow I saw the first day after the quake”. She pulled off her gloves and grabbed a handful of the darkest snow. It felt gritty, as if the snow was mixed with something. There was even a faint odor, one she couldn’t place.



Then it hit her- rotten eggs. Faint, but once she recognized it, it was definitely there. Wrinkling her nose in distaste she quickly rubbed the black snow off her hands on the pine needles of the downed tree. Loathe to get it on her coat she pulled a bandana from her jacket pocket to finish the job. With a sinking feeling she realized her theory might not be as wild as she’d first thought.



“Hon, I thought you were seeing things that day, I mean, it seemed so weird, I figured you just imagined it because you were upset”. He looked at her with a small sheepish smile. “When you told me that, I thought you’d been reading way too much sci-fi again”. He took a deep breath, and with a far more serious look on his face continued, “There must have been a hell of a fire somewhere.”



“C’mon, let’s keep going-we’ll know soon. I don’t think it was town, we’d have heard them talk about it on the shortwave if that was it. I know there's been some damage, but what I could hear didn’t sound too bad, and they didn’t mention a big fire” she replied.



“JJ, maybe I’ve been hanging around you too long, but”-he took her arm, and turned her toward him “Could that have been a nuke, instead of an earthquake?”



She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so-oh, hell, I don’t know. But Greg, I think Pete would have known if it was. No blast wave that I recall… just a horrendous storm. I don’t think the city was close enough for us to get an inch of solid ash from a blast there, and it’s south. The storm that night came from the west.”



They walked a few more feet in troubled silence before she spoke again. “No, I think that was a real quake. But I’m just not sure now, after seeing that snow, if that’s all it was”.



“OK, I’m game-what are you thinking?” She glanced over at him. He was frowning, walking carefully, but slower and heavier than before. He looked back at her, and it seemed for the first time the depressive landscape really hit him. He looked uneasy. “What are you thinking?”



It was a long moment before she answered. “First, a quake-where there usually aren’t significant quakes. We’re on the edge of a fairly stable area- well, geologically, that is. New Madrid-if that let loose, we might feel it, but I don’t think it would be as bad as it was all the way up here.”



“Then what?”



“Hon, there’s the black snow.” she continued slowly, and he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “That’s weird enough! Then- you’re the one who grew up here, do you ever recall weather like this?” Her arm swept around, taking in the dull landscape and grey sky.



He shook his head no. “No, I’ve never seen it this bad. Sometimes a week goes by so overcast you don’t see blue sky-but never this dark. And the black snow, that seems impossible-or it ought to be.”



“Well, it’s obviously not impossible, you’re standing in it!” He laughed at her raised eyebrow. “Go on, I’m listening”.



“This isn’t normal overcast. We’ve got five, maybe six hours a day of sun at most; and that’s so faint it looks like evening. There’s only one answer I can come up with that might cause all three phenomenon”.



Before she could voice her fears, they heard a rustling in the underbrush that sounded fairly close. Greg turned toward it faster than she. Grimaced with pain as he reached with his sore arm to push her behind him.



“Greg, it’s probably just-“



The sound of a shot silenced them.

Laying flat in the snow, JJ strained to hear any noises over the sound of her racing heart. Her first clear thought was incongruous- she’d been right earlier after all, she did feel the cold more now, some of the dirty snow had fallen down her neck as she’d dived into it. She shivered as it ran down into the front of her shirt. Greg’s arm was pushing her face down into it.



She wiggled a bit to turn her head toward him, and whispered “Are you alright?”



He nodded in the affirmative, and stiffly moved his arm off her, bringing a finger to his lips to silence her. At least the arm was working well, she thought. The passive exercises she’d forced on him to keep the joints supple had been worth it. Her racing mind paused, and wondered just how she could be thinking of that, while laying in the snow with someone shooting at them.



Greg was scanning the road, looking for shelter of some type. The downed tree they just passed was too far to wiggle back to. The next best thing was a big oak just a few dozen feet to the right of the path. He pointed to it, wiggling his fingers to show her that she should crawl in that direction. As she nodded her understanding they heard a voice float through the trees.



“Reba, lookee what I got!”



It wasn’t until all her muscles relaxed that she realized how tight they had been. Timmy Matthew’s unmistakable voice-Timmy lived on acreage between theirs and town. Twenty-two now, and strong as an ox, Timmy had been eight when he’d survived the car accident that had claimed his father. His body had healed, but the head injury left him permanently a child.



He’d been 15 when his mother died from Sickle Cell. The bewildered child was shipped from the liberal Southern university town his mother taught in, to a Grandmother he’d never met. Her stiff-necked husband had passed the year before, never having backed down from disowning his youngest son for “marrying outside his own kind”.



His loss! JJ thought again for the hundredth time. Old Lady Matthews had been overwhelmed at first. It hadn’t taken long for her to fall in love with the boy. His infectious grin and sparkling hazel eyes reminded her so much of the son she’d lost. For all her trying, though, Timmy had retained the Southern drawl he grew up with.



He was a fixture in town, a part time bagger at the grocery store, and a full time optimist that loved everyone he met. Whenever he came to the clinic, he always hugged her before he left. That was Timmy. Greg had taken to him, too, when she brought Timmy by to see a litter of pups. Timmy was a frequent visitor to the cabin after that. Greg had given Timmy a squirming pup about a year ago- a little red female. He’d named her Reba, after the red-headed country singer his Gramma played CD’s of so often. He had quite a knack with the dog.



They both rose slowly-and that’s when they heard the barking coming toward them. Jason! JJ glanced at Greg just as his face lit up, recognizing the big dogs bark. Timmy was waving, and bounding toward them with the same enthusiasm as the Lab.



“Miss JJ! Mr.Greg!” Timmy hugged her, his face split with his signature smile. “We thought you were still in the city, I come by but there was nobody home! Well, Jason was there, but I thought he got out after…well, After; so I took him home with me and Reba till you come back. Was that OK?”



“That was more than OK, Timmy”. Greg still sounded gruff from the relief of finding the dog. JJ knew it had hit him hard to lose him, and his relief was evident to her. “I hope your Grandma didn’t mind”.



Timmy’s face screwed up into an- uncommon for him- grimace. “Gramma got sick, Mr. Greg….After”. JJ reached out and touched his arm “What do you mean, Timmy?”



“She can’t walk good, Miss JJ. And she talks real funny, like this.” He mumbled out some incomprehensible words. “I have to help her with everything”. His voice trailed off at the last word, as he glanced down at the ground, squirming a bit. His body language and darkening face told her what she needed to know. His acute embarrassment most likely meant Mrs. Matthews needed help with toileting. Considering Timmy’s mental age, assisting his grandmother with that task would be agonizing.



Greg glanced at her, and said softly “Stroke?” She nodded, “Sounds like it”, her own concern growing.



“Timmy, what did Doctor Bob say? Did she go too the hospital?”



The boy glanced back at where Jason and Reba had wandered. “You dogs leave that alone! It’ll be supper, but not now!” He turned back again to them, the distraction having broken his train of thought. “That’s the third squirrel I got today, Mr. Greg! They been hard to find. You wanna come to dinner by us?”



Greg’s voice was gentle as he replied. “Not today, Timmy, we have to go to the meeting. But who’s cooking the squirrels if your Grandma is in the hospital?”



“I am” His face split in a proud grin, “Gramma showed me how, when I got some the other day. We run out of meat, so I had to get something. I always cleaned ‘em up anyway, so all she had to do was show me the pot. The first time wasn’t so good, I forgot to put salt in it, but now I know how!”



They started walking back to where the dogs watched over Timmy’s kill.



“When did Dr. Bob let Gramma come home from the hospital, Timmy?” JJ tried to redirect him, wanting to learn more about the woman’s condition. She thought it sounded odd she wasn’t in a rehab center if she was still having trouble. They should never have sent her home with just Timmy like that!



“Dr. Bob ain’t seen her, Miss JJ. Dr. Bob was in town, too, and he hasn’t come back. We thought you was with them”.



That’s when it hit her- both clinic doctors had gone to Madison for a Continuing Education Conference on Emerging Infectious Diseases the weekend of the quake. They had invited her to go too, knowing her interest in the SARS situation that had flared again in South East Asia. The world had dodged a bullet a few years back when the particularly nasty strain had failed to evolve enough to cause the global pandemic the health authorities feared. This coming year they might not be so lucky. Updates on the situation and the State Health Department preliminary planning for a potential outbreak were to be a keynote of the conference.



The other clinic staff probably thought she and Greg had spent the weekend in Madison with Doctors and their wives! But the afternoon before, when Kyle had called to say they’d be coming up the next day, she’d told Bob she’d stay home. They hadn’t seen the kids in over a year and missing part of their short visit just didn’t seem right.



She’d forgotten to cancel the arrangements they’d made to have the dogs cared for until it was too late in the evening to call Jean. The clinic receptionist’s teenage daughter had been thrilled to “pet sit” the labs the few times they’d gone away before. She’d planned on calling in the morning, but there hadn’t been a normal morning, after all.



No wonder no one had come looking for them! Jean’s husband was a county Deputy, so the authorities would naturally assume they weren’t in town. In the aftermath of the quake the whole thing slipped her mind.



“Can you come see my Gramma and get her better, Miss JJ?”



“I’ll be glad to see her, Timmy.” She glanced at Greg. He was holding up remarkably well. “But I need some stuff from the clinic first. We’re going to the meeting in town, we can swing by the clinic and stop by on the way back”.



“They sure are gonna be happy to see y’all in town, Miss JJ. Especially those soldier boys. There’s some folks hurt and need-“

JJ frowned. “What soldier boys, Timmy?” Her first thought was the National Guard was there to help provide disaster services- then the possibility of Martial Law.



“The ones staying at the Sheriff’s station, Miss JJ. Well, its one boy and one girl. They said they wanted to go looking for you and Mr.Greg, but Sheriff Pete said they had to wait to see if you come home first. Well, they was there when I was in town the other day”. The realization dawned that this might mean something else. Greg watched the hope flare in her eyes, feeling it rise in him too.



She let out a whoop that startled the dogs. “Greg, it just has to be the kids!” Kyle was in the Army, stationed in Virginia. He’d planned to fly into Chicago, and pick up Heather at school there. She started firing questions at Timmy, but the boy seemed unable to remember much more. Greg sensed the overload was obviously too much for him.



“Hon, we’re almost there. Let’s get going and we can find out for ourselves in a few minutes.”



“Are you coming, Timmy?” JJ was already walking away. Greg hurried a bit to catch up. Jason was glued to his heels, easily abandoning his savior now that his master had shown up.



“No, you go, Gramma needs me. Come see us, OK? You promised!”



“We will, Timmy” Greg reassured him. “Maybe tomorrow, if the meeting runs long” He still intended to get them home by dark-with the children, if their hopes were fulfilled. If their supposition was wrong, JJ would need time alone to cushion the blow. Old Lady Matthews could wait one more day, he thought firmly. He was even more adamant about gettingto town, after hearing some of Timmy’s story.



“Sheriff Pete” hadn’t been official since his retirement years back. Timmy had always called him “Mr.Pete” before. Why was HE at the police station? Don Reschel had been the full-time Deputy assigned to the County Substation in Haven for some time now. If it hasn’t been for the tourist trade, recreational hunters, campers and snowmobilers that swelled the area in their own seasons the small town wouldn’t have rated even that part-time police presence. The small substation on Main and its cruiser in full sight had reduced the inevitable alcohol related crimes and injuries that any resort area had come to expect. Why hadn’t Timmy said “Sheriff Don”?



And, “running out of meat”? That comment also bothered him. If the Piggly Wiggly had been damaged by the quake, surely it must be back up and running two weeks later! If not, any of the town’s permanent residents would gladly have taken Timmy to the store in the next big town up the line. Or for that matter his grandmother to the hospital near the university. What was up? Why hadn’t the roads been cleared? He frowned. Maybe things weren’t as settled as he had expected.



Shrugging off his unease, he reminded himself what he’d just told his wife; they’d know in a few minutes. He hurried, calling to JJ, who had put close to a hundred feet between them. She flashed a brilliant smile at him as he caught up. They were walking as fast as the heavy snow permitted when they exited the tree lined turn as the back road segued into Haven’s Main Street.



She was chattering out plans. “We’ll go to the Station first, we have time before the meeting, then the clinic. Or maybe the clinic after the meeting. I can check out your arm…” Her voice faded and both their paces slowed.



A huge snow bank blocked the road- near twice their height. To the right, it sloped to an end at the chain link fence that surrounded the elementary school ball field. The left had a small opening, large enough for a man or horse, but no vehicle. To enter town, they would need to pass though the opening or climb the steep pile.



Greg went first, with not a little trepidation. He had the uncomfortable sense they were being funneled that way intentionally. JJ followed slowly. It was still too quiet. Haven may have been a small town-just a few streets and business and a couple of dozen homes, but there should have been more activity.



The snow was deeper than usual on the street, except for a double plow’s width that had obviously become the huge pile “gate”. At first glance, it was still familiar Haven. The outline of the Catholic Church ahead and elementary school to their right were clearly discernable even in the dusky light. But they were distorted, and as they slowly walked further the differences became more apparent.



The north side of the schools second story had collapsed. “Thank God it happened at night, Greg!” JJ whispered, subconsciously responding to the unnatural silence. He grunted, too watchful of the surroundings to reply. JJ’s urgency to look for the children was submerged in the realization of just how much damage the town had sustained.



There had been fires. Too many of them, it seemed. The standing parts of the first three houses on the left were burned out shells. It was impossible to tell if they’d collapsed from the quake, or in the aftermath of the fires that consumed them. On the right, another house- or where there had been one- was nothing but a huge pile of snow, with boards protruding to the dirty sky. Several others were standing, no sign of life apparent.



A block further on the damage was bit lighter. The homes here were older, built of concrete block in some instances. Most were still standing.



The gentle curve of the main road carried them what the residents jokingly referred to as the “Haven Business District”. Two blocks long, with store fronts and commercial building on either side. Haven’s Cards and Collectibles was gutted. The fire had spread to the small restaurant and pub next to it- it appeared a total loss, with walls still standing but the roof collapsed inside.



The remaining storefronts on the right appeared mostly intact-but there was hardly a window glass left. Some hasty repairs had been attempted. Boarded windows and tracks in the snow and an occasional tarp were the first evidence of initial recovery efforts they’d seen since they left Timmy.



“No lights anywhere, Greg. The electricity must still be down here too”.



Jason was sampling the air, intent on identifying the various odors that the cold hid from the less sensitive human senses. He stopped and whirled to the left, his sudden bark startling them both. From the side road of one of Havens cross streets four heavily clothed residents walked toward them.



Greg wasn’t the only one armed. Harry shotgun was slung in a similar fashion in the crook of his left arm. Just behind him, his wife and two young children halted, seemingly as startled by Jason’s bark as they were. Greg wouldn’t have recognized the mechanic, unless he had been wearing the distinctive dark blue parka with the orange name his gas station emblazoned on the upper chest.



“Hey, Harry!” Greg called, in rough parody many of the towns residents tended to use when visiting the gas station. Harry was usually bent over a motor in one of the stations two bays, and unless he was called might not notice a new customer at the pumps.



Recognition broke the frozen plateau. Harry strode up to them, his family not far behind. His wide grin looked rather incongruous on the swollen and discolored face. The entire left side was various shades of yellow and bilious green, his eye still swollen almost shut. He pounded Greg on the back with obvious delight to see him.



“Well, I’ll be damned, Greg, thought I’d never see you again”



“Harry, I’m glad to see you too, and considering what you look like, I don’t want to see the other guy!”



Harry’s smile faded, failing to respond with the riposte he’d usually have for such a jibe. “Greg, a black eye- hell, I did good. There’s a lot of folks here you wont see again at all.”



“What happened, Harry?” Greg’s question obviously applied to the injuries, but the question of the cause also lurked just beneath the surface.



“I was asleep when it hit. I’d watched the news, and dozed off on the couch like I do sometimes. I headed to the ground about the same time the coffee table headed up to me, and the damn thing is made of wrought iron. Glad the glass didn’t break, or I might not look this pretty. It about cleaned my clock though, I’m not real sure what happened for a little while.”



“Yea, had that problem myself. Part of the porch put me to sleep for a couple of days. Everybody else OK?”



Harry looked at his family, and replied somberly. ”We were just lucky, Greg. A few bumps and bruises is all. If I’d moved this year and bought the new house we wanted, it could have been a lot worse. Seems like the newer construction just didn’t hold. In the old block house- well, there’s damage, but it’s liveable.”



He bounced back. “JJ you’re a sight for sore eyes, which mine certainly are. There’s some folks that could use your help. You both heading to the meeting?”



JJ looked up from the crouch she’d been in, talking to the Mueller children. Kindergarteners tended to be resilient, and the twins were no different. They’d been regaling her with tales of “camping” in the house, the novelty more exciting to the 5 year olds than the cause for it. Katie Mueller smiled, hands folded over the heavy pregnancy that swelled beneath her coat.



“Sure are, but thought we’d stop at the substation first. I think there might be some folks there I want to see.”



Harry turned back “Greg, just want to warn you, you best keep that dog locked up. We’ve had some trouble with loose animals, most of which I don’t recognize. Not all those houses are empty” his shotgun sweeping towards the burnt out shells they’d just past, “and between the coyotes and the dogs….”



Greg stopped still, muttering his disbelief to keep it from the kids “Jesus, Harry, you meant there’s still bodies in them?”



“Look to you like anyone got out?”



Greg couldn’t reply, just turned back to face him.



“Haven’s a smaller town than it was the last time you were here”.

JJ stood, instinctively reaching out to Greg, not even noticing it was his bad arm she clutched. “How bad, Harry?”



“Not sure yet. Thought you were gone, too. We’ve been trying to figure it out. Lot of folks were out of town visiting family for the holidays, makes getting a head count tough. From what we do know, there’s close to 50 dead, and few more in bad shape. Maybe 40 missing or unaccounted for, but you two make it two less. No idea about the outlying areas.”



For a town of under 500, that figure was staggering. Reeling from the thought, JJ grasped instead at the simplest part of his statement.



“I guess Don Reschel told you we were in Madison. We were supposed to leave, but decided at the last minute…”



Harry interrupted her. “No, Don’s dead.” Katie moved closer to him in mute comfort. He draped his free arm over his wife before going on, his tone flatter than before. “Jean told us, when we tried to start making lists, that you both were with the docs. Neither of them has showed up. I hear not too many roads are passable. Looks like Doc Roberts house is in not too bad shape. With Doc Smyth living so near the hospital I suppose I’d expect that wouldn’t come here-imagine there’d be enough close to home to keep him busy. How did you get back?”



“We never went. Stayed home to wait for the kids, they were coming to visit and due in the morning. What about Mandy?” JJ asked. She wasn’t surprised the clinic doctors hadn’t been heard from. Her reasoning echoed Harry’s. But the Reschel daughter that helped them with the dogs was on her mind.



“The girls fine, JJ. Just a few bumps and bruises. It wasn’t the quake that got Don. A few days back we had some “visitors” at the grocery. Looters on snowmobiles, probably came from that hunting camp north of town. Started shooting when Don tried to stop them. Don got two of them before he went down, but the third got away.” He hefted the shotgun a bit “Those that have, have been carrying since, don’t want to get surprised again. Pete suggested it. He’s running the station, until things settle down.”



Greg was trying to assimilate the information. JJ could see his jaw working and the tight rein he was keeping on his emotions. His knuckles where white on the deer rifle, unconsciously gripping it tighter. Harry’s almost nonchalant recounting of the death of the towns law enforcement officer had rocked him. Don would be missed.



She took a deep breath. “What else, Harry. I guess it can get worse”.



“It does. But we can stand here and freeze, or head over to the church and talk there. You’ll get all the detail you want –and more- then.”



JJ realized the time they’d eaten up standing in the snow. No time left to check at the substation, and Don wouldn’t be there…ever. She took a deep breath, trying not to let the sadness overwhelm her.



The group headed up the block to the church. Greg was silent, face set in heavy lines, digesting the news. JJ’s earlier enthusiasm had been muted, and even the hopes of finding her children seemed less urgent. Or more so… she wasn’t sure. The scope of the disaster was so mind boggling she wasn’t sure just what she felt. Except cold; for the third time that morning she felt really, really cold.



It didn’t take long to walk the block to their destination. The church steeple was laying in the front yard, bright blue tarps over the hole in the vestibule roof. Half the stained glass were windows broken out and covered, but the building appeared otherwise intact.



“I guess the quake weakened it,” said Harry, looking down at what was left of the cross that once graced the church, “but it didn’t come down till the near the end of the blizzard two days later. Spared it the worst of the snow and ash damage. It’s the only building safe enough for a crowd. Guess that was a minor miracle. At least that’s what Father McCann thinks.”



“The school, have you checked it out?” Greg knew the auditorium was larger; he’d done some jobs in the school that were too complicated for the custodian’s limited equipment.



“Not much, it’ll have to wait. Figured it was risky, since the library roof went. Classrooms don’t look too bad.” Harry completed his laconic reply at the church doors. “Besides, we’ve been a little too busy to worry about it, ya know?”



They passed thru the dark vestibule, blue tinged with the faint glow of the tarps. Entering the main church JJ’s eyes struggled to become accustomed to the light; the familiar banks of candles to the sides of the main alter illuminating the front pews but deep shadows predominated in the back. Water damage was evident. Some of the wooden pews appeared a total loss, warped and discolored. This time it was Greg that reached back for JJ’s hand as they saw the damage. Somewhere in the walk he's taken his arm out of the sling.



“You taking that in there?” Greg nodded towards Harry’s Mossberg. It had been a long time since Greg had attended services, but his childhood training made the idea seem somewhat blasphemous. This time Harry grinned broadly. With the candlelight playing on his colored bruises the effect was macabre. He jerked a thumb back to the entrance. “What are ya gonna do, leave it outside?” He laughed. “I notice the dog’s still with us”.



Greg shrugged. There was no way the lab was leaving his side. JJ strained to see the group in the front. She scanned the outlines of near a hundred people; some seated, some standing in small groups. Pete Morrow’s familiar face was the first one she picked out from the gloom. He stood facing towards her, talking with two young people-



That’s when she knew.



Even with his back towards her, Kyle’s silhouette was distinctive. The way he cocked his head when he was listening, the GI haircut over desert cammo, the way he had one arm on his hip. She shrieked his name and rushed forwards, almost knocking Harry over as she dodged past him.



Kyle turned just in time to recognize his mother as she threw hers arms around him, sobbing. “Oh, God, Kyle, I thought you were dead”!



Nonplussed at the ferocity of her welcome, Kyle quickly hugged her and pushed her gently back. That’s when she saw Heather. She shrieked again and grabbed her daughter, leaving Kyle free just in time for Greg to grab his hand and pump it repeatedly. The two women rocked together. It took a moment for them to realize the scattered applause that broke out was for them. Greg beamed, and JJ giggled through her tears. Laughter rippled through the group as she hiccupped loudly.


Father McCann ascended to the podium, waving at the group to silence the commotion. Clearing his throat, his practiced voice boomed throughout the chamber.



“All right, all right folks, lets get started. Pete asked me to lead off with a prayer. Had one all ready to go, but I think” he nodded to where JJ and her family, still teary eyed, sat clutching each others hands. “instead of just asking for blessings on this endeavor, we’ll raise a prayer of thanksgiving instead. That which was lost has been doubly found. Will you all join me in the Lords Prayer?”



The tenuous start of the old words quickly gained strength as the congregation joined in.

There was not a little comfort in it for those in the shadows.

Pete stood, hitching his gun belt over his ample waist. Moving more spryly than JJ remembered, he met Father McCann at the podium. Shaking hands, the priest turned the meeting over to the recommissioned Deputy.



“Thanks for coming today. I see there’s twice as many folks here than at the last meeting. Let’s recap what we know and what’s been done so far so we’re all on the same page, before we begin.”



Pete took a deep breath before continuing “The large quake that did most of the damage was apparently triggered by an earlier one on the Madrid Fault line, there had been a significant activity there just a few days before. Seems we have fault here that hadn’t been noticed earlier. That much we learned before we lost official communications. Not sure just how big it was, but it was big and damage was reported into Canada”.



“Roughly twelve hours later, another series of earthquakes struck the West Coast. Initial reports were of 9.0 or greater, and large areas in Southern California were devastated. Seismic activity spread eastward from there, and may have activated or been due to volcanism. We have unverified shortwave reports of Mt St. Helens erupting, and Rainier, and surprising activity at Yellowstone before we lost radio contact in those areas. We’re speculating that the blizzard carried some of the ash fall here. I’d like to remind you, that all reports are unofficial and unverified. We’re not really sure what the situation is to the West.”



Murmurs ran through the seated crowd. Those unaware of the news were questioning, initially unable to comprehend the scope of the disaster.



“All right, pipe down, there’s more. Let’s get through it before we open this to questions.”



The crowd quieted as the old deputy continued. “Don told me he’d lost all communications with county central and the state police shortly after the first one. So again, I’m going to remind you that whatever we have is by unofficial report. Just what the big picture is we don’t know yet.”



“The blizzard took down my antennas, and it was two days before I got them up to get long range contact.” He took a moment to acknowledge the assistance of the neighbors that had helped repair his back-yard tower. “By that time East Coast communications had stopped. I can’t raise any of the stations I normally talk with or heard from earlier east of the Smoky Mountains.”



Stunned silence greeted his statements.

“Further north, a few operators have reported that everything east of them is destroyed or maybe just gone. There are rumors of a large east coast tsunami. No idea what has happened to the large coastal cities, especially Washington, New York or Baltimore.”



“What I do know, is that whatever happened; we can’t contact them at this time. Police and the official stations we have are down. Whether it’s damage to the systems, or some other atmospheric effect of the quakes or storms that’s preventing contact, I don’t know.”



“The RACES network, or what’s left of it, is operating in some areas. But it’s spotty, and with most commercial power out, I don’t know how long it will last. Reports indicate severe damage in almost all areas of the United States. Even in the Southwest, where seismic activity seems to have been minimal, severe weather has caused significant disruption. Arizona reports severe tornados and even snow storms.”



“It’s not just the United States. Reports from Europe-“



Pete looked down, taking a moment. He ran his hand over his thinning hair before continuing.



“Damn, rumors and reports are that the whole world has suffered similar problems. Essentially, earthquakes, volcanism and severe storms have severely affected the entire globe as far as we can tell. The worst of it happened the first week. We’ve been pretty quiet this past week, but some areas haven’t been so lucky.”



The crowd was getting restless again. Pete’s steely eyed glare silenced most of them.



Bill Frolich jumped to his feet, yelling towards the podium. “Screw the rest of the world, when are we getting help? Where’s the National Guard, where’s FEMA? Where’s the damn Red Cross? Why aren’t they here?” The bartender stood, hands fisted at his side. He looked around, seeing a few nods of agreement, but most of the group just stared at him.



“You haven’t been listening too well, have you Bill? Sit down and shut the hell up till we’re done. Sorry about the language, Father.” Titters ran through the pews as Pete nodded to Father McCann. The priest raised both hands and smiled. An embarrassed and confused Bill reluctantly sat.



“The point I’m trying to make is that it’s the same all over.” Pete’s gaze still fixed Bill in the middle of the crowd, as their attention riveted back to the podium.



“There isn’t going to be any help. There’s nobody left to help, they’re all dead or dealing with their own disasters. We’re on our own. That’s what this meeting is for. We need to make some decisions pretty fast.”



Pete scanned the crowd, voice changing as he addressed all present.



“It looks like we’re on our own, and if things are as bad as I think they are; we may be for a long time.” Pete hesitated and then cleared his throat, his voice strengthening.



“What are we going to do about it?”

edited to correct a name error that a member kindly pointed out. Thanks!

The long, drawn-out scream echoed through the room.



Harry was hunched over in a chair, both elbows on his knees. He bolted upright, spine stiff, and turned even paler under his black hair. When the next scream came seconds later he jumped up, looked wide-eyed around the small waiting room. His gaze finally fixed on the girl sitting across from him.



“I need a cigarette!”



He fled out the door. Before it slammed behind him, the man sitting on the couch next to her rose. Father McCann looked nearly as white as Harry. Mumbling “I think he needs me, child”, he ran out after his panicked parishioner.



Heather giggled. They’re hadn’t been a cigarette to be found for weeks. Men! So tough, right? They had no problem starting the whole thing, but when it came to finishing it-



“Harry, get in here!”



Heather could hear the insistent voice of the Havens Chief Medical Officer through the closed treatment room door. Another scream ripped in behind it.



“Mom, he just split; and Father was right behind him.”



“Then you get in here, and make it quick!”



It was Heathers turn to blanch. “Uh, Mom, let me go get-“



“No time, NOW!” JJ roared.



Heather timidly entered the room, trying to look anywhere but at the woman in stirrups.



“Uh, Mom, you know I don’t do this blood and guts thing too well. And to steal an old line- I don’t know nothing about birthing babies…”



JJ’s voice was steel. “I just need you to hand me stuff. The table there, the sterile towels- take one by the edge and bring it over”.



That didn’t seem too bad…Heather edged over to the counter where the extra linen pile waited. She tentatively lifted the towel, and moved to her mother’s outstretched arm. If I just keep staring at the floor, she thought…



It didn’t work. She saw the pile of stained linens lying at the foot of the pelvic table, and froze.



JJ snatched the towel, sparing Heather a quick smile, quickly turned back just as the next groan spiraled in a screech. Heather swayed, turning even paler.



“Girl, take a couple of deep breaths. Don’t pass out on me, I need you! Katie, don’t push yet, pant, come on breathe with me- Oh, shit!”



Katie gave one last scream, bending forward in the stirrups, her damp face contorted as she strained. Heather went down on both knees at the same instant the Mueller’s daughter was born.



“Heather, Look at me!” JJ flipped the slippery newborn, chest down on her forearm, jaw supported by her fingers.



“Deep breath, baby, deep breath! Hand me that syringe”



Heathers panicked eyes hit the tabletop, not seeing what JJ wanted. Exasperated, one hand full of infant and another staunching the blood from the perineal tear, she nearly screamed herself.



“That blue thing, looks like little turkey baster.”



“Oh.” Heather gulped, stood and on rubbery legs made it to the table. Another deep breath brought her close enough to fully see the baby.



“Oh, Mom, that’s gross!”



Another quick swipe, and JJ had the syringe, abandoning the mother to quickly suction the child. Nearly blue as the syringe, she was limp in her arms.



“Not another one, please God, not another one!” JJ felt near panic herself. Even with the airway clear, the infant was still and her color deepening. For 32 days, she’d been responsible for the care of these people, they depended on her- and she’d buried too many of them. There was only so much she could do, and too often this last month, it hadn’t been enough.



Flipping the child to the other arm; she bent down, and using the smallest puff of air in her cheeks started mouth-to-mouth. Just enough get the chest to rise, she reminded herself. Three breaths, four…



Heather stood transfixed. Katie called out, “JJ, what’s wrong?” Mother and daughters eyes locked. Five breaths. JJ’s glance toward Katie was an unmistakable command.



Heather stepped over to Katie, blocking the scene playing just beyond her sight. She grabbed a towel, and mopped the sweating woman’s face.



Six breaths.



“Mom’s just taking care of her. Mrs Mueller, she’s a beautiful little girl!”



“Oh, we hoped for a girl! We’re going to name her after Harry’s mother. But I can’t believe that the first words she heard were four letter ones, followed by “that’s gross!”



Seven.



“Sorry about that Mrs. Mueller.” Heather giggled nervously. “I just never saw this before; and its sure not like what you see in the movies, it’s a whole lot more…uh, messy than I expected. I’m not the nurse type, you know. I’m an Electrical Engineer-well, almost, I will be when I graduate next year.” Heather chattered away, trying desperately to keep the woman occupied for a moment.



Harry’s tentative call floated through the door. Heather glanced at JJ, and saw her shake her head.



Eight breaths…



“Harry, give us a minute, OK?” Heather yelled at the door. She turned back to Katie, hoping she looked reassuring. “We should probably clean you both up a bit, before he comes in.”



The fragile wail floated through the room. Heather thought she had never heard a sweeter sound. It grew stronger. JJ held the infant close, and with a shaking voice asked for another towel.



Heather grabbed one and stood waiting for the next command. JJ looked up, mute for the moment. There was blood on her face and smeared on her arms above the bright yellow Platex gloves she wore. Heather thought she’d never seen her look so beautiful.



“Mom, give her to me”. Heather wrapped the infant, wiping her face clean. “Harry” she called “you have a daughter! I’ll come get you in a minute.” Placing the squirming infant on Katie’s abdomen she turned back for more direction. Katie reached down, stroking the tiny shell-pink cheek.



JJ ran an arm over her damp forehead. Nodded at Heather, “Good job” she said softly. Willing her hands not to shake, she picked up the pack of absorbable suture. Two, maybe three quick knots. She could do this.



“Katie, this is gonna hurt a bit. You tore when you pushed so hard that last time, and I’m going to fix it. It’ll only take a minute”. Heather watched with fascination as JJ quickly closed the tear. The slow bleeding seemed to stop immediately. Pulling off her gloves, JJ returned the pelvic table to a bed. Together they helped Katie to a sitting position.



She murmured some quick instructions, and assured her she’d be back in few minutes with more. She quickly scooped up and disposed of the dirty linens, and called Harry into the room. As he bent over his wife and child, JJ told Heather to call her if she was needed



“I need a little air.”



Greg found her moments later, kneeling on the back steps, still retching.



Shaking a now steady hand at him, she waved away his concern. “It’s ok, I’m alright-so are they.” She smiled up at him as she pointed back to the clinic. “Although Heather may never be the same again! That was a close one. I’ll tell you about it later. Why don’t you go congratulate Harry on his new daughter while I clean up”? Her returning color reassured him.



She headed to the door, and turned as he opened it for her-then stopped her.



“JJ, the others weren’t your fault-nobody else could have done any different.”



“I’ve had what, Greg, maybe thirty patients to care for, and lost 11? Not such a great track record. If I had a medical license, I’d probably lose it!” Her laugh was bitter.



“And there’s at least five that would have died without you! You have to deal with this Hon, its eating you up”.



Heather walked down the hall toward them. They looked up at the interruption.



“Mom, Pete just came in the front- they want to know if they should postpone the meeting.”



The Haven Council Meeting had been the family’s original goal that morning. Just as they’d sat down to start, she’d been called to the clinic with the urgent news that Katie’s water had broken. Four hours later, they were still waiting for her?



‘The other six decided they didn’t want to start without you, JJ. Having a council member absent today wouldn’t have been a good idea. If you’re not up to it, then they’ll postpone until tomorrow.”



“No, that wouldn’t be good, either. We need to settle this today if we can.”



Mother and child seemed to be doing fine. She felt more comfortable leaving them when Heather agreed to stay and come for her if any problems arose. The baby had started rooting, latching on with surprising force, if only for a few moments. It looked like they were off to a good start. She’d check back after the meeting.



This was the council’s first “Emergency Meeting”. A month ago they’d been appointed, in the first meeting she’d attended here. JJ had been named Medical Officer, over her objections- then to her even greater surprise, a full council member.



Twice a week they’d met there in the church. Deciding who should handle what resources. There had been strident objections when owners first failed to grasp just how precious the contents of the town’s commercial establishments had become. As the days went on, and Pete’s prophecy of how alone they were settled in, agreement had been reached. There were very few people left in Haven who didn’t accept that their survival depended on them working together.



JJ was in charge of the small drug store, and the clinic-and everything in them. She’d asked for and gotten the rights to whatever possible medical related items she could salvage from the Piggly Wiggly. That’s where the Playtex gloves came from-she’d realized early on they could be boiled and reused, saving her now precious supply of nitrile gloves for when she need the more sensitive touch.



Greg was on the Deputy’s security detail, and so was her son. Blocking the town roads with snow banks to slow down any other looters that might think the small town easy pickings had been Kyle’s idea. It had worked well. Stragglers had been greeted by the twenty four hours guards, and given some assistance if they were moving on. If they indicated an interest, and passed Pete and the councils review; they’d been invited to stay. A few had agreed.



It had gone fairly smoothly. The town jail cell had stayed empty-until last week.



The attack had come in the very early morning. Four armed men, and a Hummer, crashing over the now melting barriers erected after the storms. They’d stolen it from the National Guard barracks in the next county after killing the few Guardsmen and raiding the place before they’d left. They’d traveled south for a week, reaching Haven about the time their supplies had run out. They’d preyed on the survivors, until they reached Haven.



They’d learned the details when sole raider to survive had been “interviewed”. Pete could be very persuasive. Kyle only shook his head when she asked about it, his eyes cold. Greg had flat out told her “Let it be.” And after breaking the news of her young husband’s death to the wife of the townsman she had been unable to save- she had no real desire to enquire further.



The Council handled what to do with the town resources. Appointed head of important functions- heck, even Heather had an official job- as a neophyte electrical engineer; her skills were in short supply. She’d done an amazing job rigging battery systems to run radios, and several other essential items of equipment.



The fuel left in the town’s gas station now belonged to the town-they’d ration it out carefully. Come spring, that fuel might mean the difference between getting a crop in the ground- or starving when the pre-Quake food stuffs ran out. Vehicle use was rare-and restricted to the few hybrids they could gather together from the survivors and the garages of the empty houses. One was hers now-though rarely used, it was comforting to have in case she was called out in a medical emergency.



As far as JJ was concerned, this meeting was the biggest challenge they faced so far. Making decisions to save everyone’s life was easy compared to deciding if - without judge, without jury-without knowing if the world would ever go back to the way it was before- they had the right to condemn a man to die.