Wilson Harp - EMP

“Got it,” said Anne as she noted what he said on a slip of paper.

“Great. You two need to get going, I’d like to have a chat with Pat if I could.”

I looked back at Dad. “You need me for anything else?”

“No, Davey. You go do what you need to, I’ll take it easy today.”

I looked over at Mom who was peeling potatoes in the kitchen.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be home in time for supper.”

The rains came in little pulses over the next several days. Storms tore through the first night, darkening Kenton in a way I had never experienced. The northern lights were blocked out by the heavy clouds and the wind howled all the louder for the loss of sight.

The next two days saw a series of short showers. It brought plenty of fresh water to us, but delayed construction of individual latrines and outhouses. It also brought a melancholy that combined with worry and uncertainty.

A bright dawn greeted us on the third day and the sky looked clear in the north and west. The northern lights which had hung in the sky like specters the first two days were gone. Occasionally I would see a ribbon of color out of the corner of my eye, but it seemed more like a phantom feeling one would experience when they saw a bug and then lost track of it. A sensation would run along your leg or shoulder, but you knew it wasn’t really there.

Anne arrived about an hour after sunup with Clyde for me to ride. The gelding was starting to get used to me and for the first time seemed to recognize me as I approached.

“Not wearing your coat and hat today?” Anne asked. She smirked as she kept any tone of mocking out of her voice. I had been forced to wear an old jacket and baseball cap from my high school years during the last couple of days just to stay somewhat dry.

“No, it’s going to be a beautiful day,” I said.

“Ready to head in and get orders from Ted?” she asked.

“I will later. I just want to check up on a few families and make sure they are boiling their water before they drink it,” I said.

“I understand, I need to check on a few people myself. See you in town around lunch?”

“Okay.”

Anne waved at me and turned Bonnie away as I mounted Clyde. I rode south along Granger until I came to the Carter’s Creek Bridge. Just before that was a little spur of a road with three houses and a couple of mobile homes. One of those mobile homes had a single mother with three young children, and I wanted to make certain she was boiling any water before she mixed it with formula for her baby or powder mix for her older kids.

As I approached her house, I heard a commotion and saw an older man step out of a farmhouse that had been the only house in this area when I was growing up. He wailed a mournful cry and fell to his knees.

The Gatewood family had left the town soon after I graduated high school, so I wasn’t familiar with the man who was crying on his front porch. I turned Clyde toward the house and dismounted as I approached the front gate. I opened the gate and ran up to the porch.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“She’s gone. She’s gone,” he muttered.

A few of his neighbors were gathering, including Luke Carter. I tried to get the man to focus on me, but tears had been on his cheeks and wetting his beard for some time before he had come outside.

Luke pushed past me and entered the house. The woman I was going to see about the water knelt beside the older man and hugged him.

A few minutes later, Luke came back out the front door. He motioned for me and another man who had come into the yard to join him at the bottom of the steps to the porch.

“Wanda is dead,” he said.

“His wife?” I asked.

Luke nodded. “You might want to go let the council know.”

The council was a group of six prominent and effective leaders in Kenton. Ted had selected them two nights before. He led the council and was supported by Mayor Mueller, John Laffer, Bill Hanson, Susan Skinner, Ike Stokes, and Clint Davis.

“Okay,” I said. “Her name is Wanda, what is his.”

“Kevin Cummings,” said the other man.

“Why are you down this far, David?” Luke asked me. “I’ve got everything under control down here.”

I pointed to the woman who was comforting the older man on the porch. “I was just coming down here to make sure she was boiling the water for her kids. I wasn’t intending any offense, Mister Carter.”

Luke smiled and dropped a heavy arm on my shoulder.

“You are so much like your dad. There is no offense, you’re doing the job they gave you. I’ll take care of it. You go let the council know we had a death overnight. I think she died in her sleep. I figure we can give Kevin the day to deal with it and then tonight we can dig the grave and bury her.”

I mounted Clyde and rode away from the tragic scene. I didn’t want to stop by the house and speak with my folks. I told myself it was because I didn’t want Dad to feel like he had to get involved, but I knew I just didn’t want to cry. And if I spoke to my folks about it, I would cry. It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t cried over being unable to help Lexi and Emma, but I would cry over some woman I had never met. I knew I would cry, and I knew that wasn’t fair somehow.

As I kicked around those thoughts in my head, I rode past the house and was able to ride into town dry-eyed.

I entered the library, which had become the headquarters for our efforts. Maps of the town were laid out on the large tables, and Ted had more volunteers than he knew what to do with.

Mayor Mueller was an invaluable asset to Ted, and I could see why he was in his fifth term. He was an efficient administrator and could handle people and their complaints in a smooth and confident manner. But he had met his match in Sharon Little.

“I don’t know, Missus Little,” the mayor said. “I don’t have the resources to check on that for you.”

“It’s ‘Miz Little’, and you can’t tell me if there is a single milk goat in this town?”

“I’m sorry Miz Little. I don’t know. I don’t drink goat milk.”

“This is unbelievable! I can’t feed my children because of your incompetence?”

“You don’t need to shout—“

“Yes I do! I need everyone to know you are completely useless! What are we supposed to do?”

I was a taken aback by this outburst as I walked through the door of the main meeting room. The other people in the room had all stopped what they were doing and watched the confrontation. A sudden drop in the noise in the main library had me look over my shoulder. Most people had stopped what they were working on and some were edging over to look through the door.

“Miz Little, your children will be fine. We still have enough food here in town,” said the mayor. “The hunting is going well and we have several large plots of radishes that will be harvested in the next couple of weeks. We may have to tighten our belts for a bit, but we will get through this.”

“The only thing I’ve seen anyone offer me this morning is prepackaged food and dried meat.”

The mayor blinked a couple of times. “I don’t understand your concern, then. Is the goat milk important to your children’s diet? If so, Bill Hanson can recommend a way to help their digestion. He may have some medicine that could help.”

Sharon threw her hands up in the air and made a mocking sound. “It’s not just the goat milk. I won’t let my children eat the poison that is prepackaged food. And I certainly won’t have them eating meat. We only eat holistic, healthy, all natural foods. And you need to find a source of them.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps you would like to volunteer to work at one of the community gardens to help with the crops, then. Shall I put you down?”