without electricity, puttering around outside, going to bed early, and solitarily tackling whatever they thought they needed to do to get ready for winter.
While part of Sela was impatient to get some organization in place, another part of her was content to do exactly as the others were doing. She managed to cut enough off her drainpipes that she could fit her big plastic container boxes beneath them to catch rainwater . . . not that there was a whole lot of rain this time of year, though if a big tropical storm swept in from the Gulf that could change. In the meantime, every afternoon she and other people in the neighborhood walked back and forth multiple times to the nearest creek, collecting water in whatever container they could carry.
Every day, Carol tried the Y2K windup radio to see if she could pick up any broadcast, but heard only static. Nevertheless, they all immediately formed the ritual of gathering around while Carol searched for a signal, and after Sela suggested they go outside so there would be less interference, the radio became sort of a neighborhood thing. People volunteered to operate the crank to charge the battery. Someone brought out a folding card table, and Carol would set the radio on it while everyone gathered around, hoping that each day would be the one where they finally heard something from outside the valley.
After four days of silence, words emerged from the static. People had been chatting but they immediately fell silent, crowding around the card table.
“—stores are empty. Communications are—” The signal was overtaken by static, obliterating what else was said, but at least there had been something. They were a good distance from Knoxville and the atmosphere was still wonky, as evidenced by the aurora that still danced overhead at night, though Sela thought the vibrancy was fading and the red was now mixed with more green.
“It’ll get better,” she murmured. “The reception, I mean.” Though obviously the radio stations were running on reserve generator power, and who knew how long that would last. She hoped the atmosphere would settle down before transmission stopped, so they could get some useful information.
“Maybe if we move the radio to higher ground,” Mike Kilgore said, looking around. “I can get a ladder and take it to the top of the house.”
“We’d all have to get on top of the house to hear it,” his wife, Leigh, pointed out, punching him in the arm.
“Let’s just keep trying from where we are,” Carol said, feathering the dial, searching for another station.
When another voice came through, this one more clearly, they all jumped.
“—operating under emergency power, and will continue to do so as long as possible. PSAs are scheduled to be aired every day at nine a.m. Please tune in tomorrow at that time. This is our last broadcast today.”
The exact time had become less important since the grid died, but some people still wore wristwatches and they all automatically noted the time. “It’s four-thirty,” Mike noted, and everyone who wore a watch synchronized the time, to make certain their watches weren’t running slow; they didn’t want to miss the nine a.m. broadcast.
“I can look for another station,” Carol said.
“No point. We can wait until tomorrow. At least that station was clear.”
The next morning they all gathered in Carol’s yard; word had spread that Carol had a hand-crank radio and it wasn’t just neighborhood people gathered around to listen. Others in the area had battery operated radios, mostly old-timers, and some had actually cranked up their cars to listen to the radio. But these days most took any opportunity to be together, and this was one of those opportunities. Carol’s yard was full of people milling around. At 8:59 she turned it on, and they all fell silent, waiting.
Olivia stood to the side and played with her hair, twirling a strand around one finger. It was a nervous gesture she hadn’t fallen back on for years. Barb was noticeably pale, but of the four of them she’d been the most upset and nervous.
Sela moved to stand beside Olivia and hooked a companionable arm over her shoulder. An outright hug might feel too coddling to the girl, but a we’re-in-this-together touch to let her know she wasn’t alone was acceptable. Olivia gave her a fleeting smile—a strained one, but still a smile.
They all seemed to be holding their breaths, though Sela didn’t expect to hear anything of great importance this morning. It was just that—they