her mind racing with details of all they had done, all they could have done, and all they still needed to do. She went over and over the community meeting, trying to think of who should be in charge of what, but the reality was they’d have to go with the group of volunteers they had regardless of their individual skill sets. In any given community, there was a small core of people who were willing to commit their time and efforts to getting things done while others simply waited to reap the benefits. Whether or not that core of workers would be large enough remained to be seen. More “volunteers” might have to be drafted.
Too bad Ben Jernigan wasn’t one of the volunteers.
Her memory flashed to his hard, scruffy face, the fierceness of his green gaze, and the reluctance with which he’d warned her about the coming disaster. Interacting with people didn’t come easy to him; even she was better at it than he was, and most days she sucked ditch water when it came to socializing. But he’d made the effort, which meant he wasn’t totally closed off; perhaps she could convince him to join them.
Or not.
The problem was, they needed him, but he didn’t need them.
Thinking about him wasn’t conducive to feeling sleepy. Suddenly she was too hot, though she had only the top sheet pulled over her; the house was too warm without air-conditioning, even with the screened windows open. She threw the sheet back and lay there in her tank top and pajama pants, hoping for a cooling night breeze, but the air didn’t seem to be moving.
A red glow lit the room, then vanished.
Startled, she sat up and cocked her head, listening for unusual noises. Was there a fire? Her heart thumped, because a fire now, with the valley’s resources so drastically limited, would be catastrophic for the people involved.
The red glow shimmered through her bedroom again.
She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, expecting to see a neighbor’s house on fire. Instead . . .
. . . the fire was in the sky.
“Ohhh,” she breathed, an unconscious tribute to the spectacle overhead. Entranced, she stared upward for a few minutes, then raced through the dark house, unlocked the front door, and stepped out onto the screened porch where she had a much broader view. She stood transfixed by the sight.
If she’d needed a reminder of the magnitude of this event, if she had not yet accepted that the CME had arrived, this was it. The sky was on fire. Not literal fire, but still . . .
A bloodred aurora danced across the sky, above and around Cove Mountain like a gentle ribbon of crimson light twining into the darkness in all directions. It was a haunting, celestial waltz of power, and she caught herself holding her breath as she watched. She couldn’t remember ever being more entranced and terrified and awestruck.
She unlatched the screen door and went down the steps to stand in the yard, turning slowly around, eyes still on the sky. The aurora danced behind her as well. She’d never before seen an aurora, much less a rare red one. They simply didn’t happen this far south, until now.
Now the bloodred color, shot through with green streaks, covered the sky like a sheet, trembling back and forth, vanishing briefly, then flaring back to life and morphing into a shimmery curtain.
How many of her neighbors had had trouble sleeping, unable to turn off the worry, and now stood watching the fiery display that stood testimony to the immense solar storm? She couldn’t see anyone else in their yards, though the trees blocked most of her view anyway; surely she’d have heard them talking, though. She seemed to be alone in the night, alone with this unbelievable grandeur taking place above them.
Ben had been walking for a few hours, driven by a bone-deep impulse. He was walking patrol; he knew it, but still he couldn’t stop himself. He was annoyed and bitter about it, even angry. Didn’t matter. He was driven to do what he’d been trained to do. This was an emergency situation and civilians were at risk; he didn’t have to join their meetings or chat with them or share his supplies with them, but evidently he damn sure had to keep the boogeymen away, at least for tonight.
It was bullshit. He knew it was bullshit.
He still did it.
He’d managed to get a few hours of sleep, but once