stayed on. And they would have to be stingy with their supplies, because they didn’t know how much would be enough, or exactly what they would need. They were as unprepared as the first settlers from Europe setting foot in the New World . . . well, maybe not. They did have the farmers and the old people, ample game for hunting, and plenty of fresh water. When she thought about it, right there where they were, in Wears Valley, they had everything they needed for survival.
The crowd shifted, from one large gathering to several smaller ones. Sela stood back and listened, picking up bits and pieces of several conversations. Several men talked about security, making plans to start a community watch. One woman said she had her dehydrator working overtime, drying the last of the summer garden veggies. Another was making soup and canning it. Eventually the last of the panic faded, at least outwardly, and was replaced by preparation. Sela could only hope it was the same everywhere, though she knew it wouldn’t be.
The sound of her own name caught her attention and she snapped her head around.
Barb smiled at her, looking smug. “I nominate Sela.”
She should have paid better attention to that particular conversation. “What?” No good ever came of being nominated for anything.
“We’ll need someone to be in charge.”
“In charge of what?” It didn’t matter. Thanks, but no thanks. Being in charge wasn’t in her DNA.
“Getting things organized,” Nancy replied. “You have common sense, and your ego won’t get in the way.”
No, no chance of that. But the idea of being in charge of anything other than her store and herself filled her with a sense of dread. “Really, I don’t think—”
Barb interrupted. “The people who don’t want leadership are the ones who should have it. The ones who shouldn’t be in charge are always the first to raise their hands. There are assholes everywhere.” She darted a quick look in Olivia’s direction to see if the teenager had been close enough to hear. She wasn’t, and likely Olivia and her friends said much worse than that, but still. “Pardon my French,” she added in a lowered voice.
The next thing she knew, Sela was surrounded. Not just by her aunt and friends, but by several other smaller groups. There were fifteen houses in this little neighborhood, and at quick count it appeared that every home was represented by at least one resident. And they were all looking at her.
“So?” Barb prodded. “What do we do?”
Neighbors ranging in age from five to seventy-five looked at her as if she should have all the answers. She threw a panicked look at Mike Kilgore, but he held up his hands and shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have the patience. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, but I know my shortcomings.”
The thing was, Sela knew hers, too, and being forceful enough to lead anything wasn’t in her wheelhouse.
On the other hand, what they needed at this point was organization more than leadership. She ran her store, kept the inventory ordered and organized. She could do that much, get them at least on the same page so things that needed to be done got done but efforts weren’t duplicated.
Olivia was watching her. If she refused, what would that teach Olivia about stepping up, about being strong even against her own inclinations? She wasn’t Olivia’s only role model, but still—being a role model sucked.
She blew out a breath, thought a minute, then said, “We need a plan not just for this street, but for the entire community.” There were about six thousand residents in Wears Valley, give or take. Thanks to the topography, they were pretty spread out. It was a rural area, an unincorporated township. They had no organized form of government. “Okay, everyone think. While we still have phones and internet, let’s contact everyone we can and set up a community center.” There was one logical answer. “Tomorrow afternoon, if we get hit the way they say we will, we’ll meet at the school. Everyone who wants to attend can, but at the very least each neighborhood should be represented. We need a list of residents, their addresses, next . . . next of kin and how to contact them.” That was hard to say, but had to be put out there. “Put the word out, try to get as many people to attend as we can. The people who can walk the