of the volunteers needed relief or had seen something Mike didn’t already know about. Ted Parsons always had a lot to say, but he was taking part and she no longer thought he was as obnoxious as he’d first seemed. He and Carol would never be friends, but at least they were cordial.
They were getting by. The valley residents were pulling together, cooperating. Even the oldest people were contributing by taking in mending, making quilts, and any other way they could think of to pay the people who brought them food. The old women knew how to cook without electricity, more than heating a pan of soup on the fire. Some of them would watch younger kids while their parents did other chores. The barter system was very informal, everyone sort of made their own bargains except for what was needed for the community patrol, but it was working. So far they hadn’t had any trouble, except for one guy on the Townsend end of the valley who had somehow gotten his hands on some meth and trashed his house and slapped his wife around, before shooting at the neighbor’s house. The community patrol, two former military guys, had taken it on themselves to kick the guy’s ass and tie him up in a barn until he settled down. Other than that there was nothing they could do, they had no jail and no one wanted to take on the care and feeding of a prisoner anyway.
Sela had the uneasy feeling that if he made a practice of taking drugs—and God only knew where he’d gotten the meth—and slapping his wife around, he’d end up with a bullet in his head in a hunting “accident.” She didn’t want anyone in their small community to have to kill someone, but everyone who attended the weekly patrol meetings knew that anything was a possibility. All they could do was hope things stayed as relatively peaceful as they had been so far.
The very next morning, the mini-disaster she’d been waiting for happened. She hadn’t known who, what, or when, but eventually something had to happen to someone. She just hadn’t expected it to be her family.
“Sela! Sela!”
She was standing in the road talking to Mike. They’d been checking on the elderly couple who lived at the beginning of Myra Road, and discussing recruiting another volunteer for patrol so Trey Foster could cut more firewood, not just for his own family but for others who weren’t able to cut it themselves. At Olivia’s high, wailing cry, they both turned.
Something was wrong.
Olivia sprinted down the middle of the road toward them, her ponytail whipping behind her. Sela ran toward her, and when Olivia was close enough, Sela saw the tears on her face.
Carol. It had to be Carol. Nothing else would upset Olivia so much.
“Gran fell,” Olivia panted as she skidded to a stop. Each word was an effort, each breath ragged.
“Fell?” Sela’s heart skipped a beat. At Carol’s age a fall could be disastrous—especially now, when there was no 9-1-1 to call, no EMTs, no hospital.
“Down the stairs.” Olivia bent over and took a couple of deep breaths. It wasn’t the short run that doubled her over, it was the thought of losing her Gran. The kid had lost too much in her short life. She choked on a sob. “Barb said she’s broken her leg.”
Sela took off at a run, Mike beside her. As she ran she tried to control her emotions. Better a leg than a hip. Maybe it wasn’t a break. Maybe it was just a bad sprain, and Barb, who tended toward the emotional rather than the logical, had overreacted.
Please let it be a sprain. Please let it be a sprain. Not that a sprain wouldn’t be bad enough, in these circumstances; some sprains could take longer to heal than a broken bone.
She ran up the steps and through the front door, with Mike right behind her and Olivia coming in a close third. Her heart almost stopped at the sight of Carol lying in an awkward position at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes closed and her face pale. Barb knelt beside her. Sela hurried forward and as she did, Carol pressed a hand to her side and moaned. Then she said, “Shit!” That one curse word sent a wave of relief through Sela; not only was Carol conscious, she was angry, and that was a very good thing.
Barb looked up, surprisingly calm for someone who normally didn’t