off the blanket and surged to her feet. No one was stealing her gasoline.
Quickly she banked the fire, and threw on as many clothes as she could wear. She grabbed what she thought she’d need: a bottle of water, a probably stale granola bar, her .22 rifle, and a box of shells that she shoved into her coat pocket. She also got a couple of hand warmers from the camping supplies she’d bought that first day, along with her most powerful flashlight, and headed out. She was twenty yards down the road when she stopped.
What the heck was she doing?
The thought resonated. Her steps slowed, and she turned back. Why walk when she could drive? Seeing her SUV parked at the store should be a deterrent to anyone who was thinking about stealing the gas.
She might be inventing drama, seeing threat where none existed. She wasn’t a gutsy heroine who would face down the bad guys with moxie, wit, and incredible courage. On the other hand, she would do her best to protect her family and the people in the valley who were expecting her to make decisions and look out for their common interests.
If that meant spending an uncomfortable night in a cold store, so be it. With luck, that was all that would happen. She had always erred on the side of caution, anyway. By some twisted logic she was putting herself in potential danger by being extra cautious. Rock, meet hard place.
She thought about stopping by Mike Kilgore’s house and telling him what she was doing. He could help watch . . . but Mike and the others in the community patrol were already putting in long hours, and given that he’d been the one to fetch her early this morning he’d had even less sleep than she had. If she knew there was a threat to the gas supply of course she’d wake him, and anyone else who could help her, but she was guessing.
Guessing or not, she’d have to be a fool to go there and not let anyone else know.
Almost everyone in the valley had gotten in the habit of going to bed early, to save batteries and lamp oil. Carol’s house was dark, too, when she pulled into the driveway, but she figured Nancy Meador at least would be easily roused.
Sure enough, when Sela knocked on the door, only a minute passed before Nancy said, “Who is it?”
“Sela.”
Nancy quickly opened the door, looked out at Sela’s SUV. “Has something else happened?”
“No, everything’s okay. I’m spending the night at the store and I just wanted someone to know.”
Nancy peered at her in sleepy confusion. “Why’re you doing that?”
“Because if anyone wants to steal the gasoline, they’ll have to do it tonight because tomorrow will be too late.”
“But—you can’t do that by yourself! It’s too dangerous!”
“I’m probably overreacting, and just parking my car there should be enough to keep anyone from trying anything.”
“Or,” Nancy said shrewdly, “you’re right on the money in your thinking and anyone who wants to steal the gas might not balk at hurting anyone who gets in his way.”
Hearing it put like that, Sela wavered. Then she sucked it up and said, “I have my .22. I should be okay.”
Nancy regarded her silently for a minute, then patted her arm. “You be careful.”
“I will.”
She drove to the store and slowly circled it, searching with her headlights to see if anyone was parked in the shadows. She didn’t see anything, thank goodness. She started to park by the door then had a second thought and parked on top of the access to the tanks. If anyone wanted to get to those tanks they’d have to push her vehicle out of the way first.
Letting herself into the empty store was always a little bit of a shock to her system, no matter how many times she’d done it. This store had been her livelihood, and now it was barren. When the power came back on . . . what then? The world wouldn’t immediately snap back to normal. Improvements would come in fits and starts as manufacturing slowly geared up, as food production got started again. Likely it would be a year after the power came back on before supplies began trickling in. How would banks work? Credit? She had her supply of cash—thanks to Ben’s warning—but what would she be able to buy?
For the foreseeable future, likely the store wasn’t going to be her livelihood. Come spring, everyone would plant gardens. Instead