the creek just an hour before. He released the leash and the dog began sniffing around, dragging the rope behind him.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the porch chair beside hers, separated by the small table on which she’d set her book and tea. She took her own seat and pulled her feet up into the chair, curling to the side toward him. “What brings you down the mountain?”
He couldn’t say, exactly, but used the opening to ask, “Do you know the Livingstons, just off Covemont? Jim and Mary Alice. Old couple.”
“I do, though not well. Jim stopped at my store for gas, every Saturday.” She smiled. “About half the time he didn’t need much, but he always topped off the tank anyway.”
“They didn’t make any preparations for the power to be out this long. They’re low on food, though the neighbors are helping. Mary Alice takes blood pressure and heart medications, and is running short on both.” With amazement, he heard the words coming out of his own mouth. He sounded like someone who was involved. Shit. “Do you know anyone in the valley who knows about medicines?” Mary Alice had said she knew some herbalists, but he figured having backup wasn’t a bad idea.
“I do. I’ll get in touch with them, have them talk to Mary Alice. We have a flowchart set up with people who volunteered to help, what they can do. I wish we had a pharmacist or a doctor, but so far we’ve been able to get by.”
He took a slug of the tea, and was relieved it wasn’t too sweet. Some of it he’d tried was like drinking candy. He drained most of the glass and set it down, looked for the dog. It was nosing around a potted plant and he said, “Here, dog,” to call it away before it began eating the leaves. The pup trotted over to him and he rewarded it with a scratch behind the ears.
“He’s well behaved,” she said, leaning forward to stroke the dog’s sleek head.
“Evidently you didn’t notice him about to eat your plant.”
She smiled, and something in him warmed, not just at her smile but knowing he’d put it there. He wasn’t exactly a jokester.
“I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been thinking about the gasoline in my storage tanks at the store.”
That got his attention. His head snapped around. “You have gasoline?” Right now gasoline was worth more than gold.
“I turned off the pumps the day you told me what was going to happen.”
“Smart thinking. Does anyone else know?” His tone was sharp, but this was serious business.
“Carol, for certain. I don’t know if she’s told anyone.”
“Ask her. Know for sure what you’re dealing with. If she hasn’t told anyone else, don’t. People will kill for gasoline right now, and the situation will get worse.”
She looked uncertain, and he wished she was more street savvy. “People here in the valley won’t—”
“Some of them will. Gasoline is money, and you have drug addicts here the same as everywhere else. Food doesn’t matter to them as much as getting their next dose, nothing does. Are your tanks locked?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Eventually gangs and looters will start working their way here. Hell, if the population in the northern half of the country has any sense, they’ll be walking south right now. Wears Valley isn’t on an interstate but some people will come through this area. Start hiding what you have or you’ll lose it.”
She slowly nodded, her gaze turning inward as she processed the realization that the valley wasn’t as secure as she’d assumed.
“The gas is a problem. Ethanol gas is good for about three months, so you either use it or lose it. Pure gasoline is stable much longer, but—”
“I have a pure gasoline tank,” she said. “Not a big one, but I keep it because people like pure gas for their lawn mowers and such. It’s on the left side of the station, with a separate pump.”
He’d seen the small pump, and assumed it was for kerosene. That was a resource he hadn’t expected, and it was available because she’d had the foresight to turn off her pumps. A couple of other stations in the valley had been pumped dry, with the owners making as much money as they could while they could. Both views had merit.
“Do you have any fuel stabilizer in your store?”
“Some. Not much.”
“Okay.” He thought a minute. “It’s a balancing act. I won’t tell you to hoard the gasoline, because it’ll go bad.