Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

Wendy had resisted, but without any hope for power, medication, or food, and no guarantee of safety, she had come to realize she would only be postponing the inevitable while risking her own life if she stayed. The hospital staff was encouraged to help where they could in their own neighborhoods, and then they quietly exited out a back door. Wendy knew that some of the staff who had no families to go home to had ignored the order and stayed, but she had ridden her bike home in tears, struggling to come to grips with abandoning her patients and knowing that most wouldn’t make it, but seeing no way to change the outcome.

The city of San Angelo lay off to the east, and Kyle could see a large column of smoke rising from a warehouse that was on fire and burning furiously. He took a long look at the city and wondered if he would ever make it back to visit the Davis’s, and if he did, how different things would be then.

Wednesday, September 7 th

Deer Creek, Montana

Jennifer sat on a hard wooden kitchen chair pushed up against a wall in Doug Jarvis’s unfinished basement. It was apparent to Jennifer that Doug wasn’t in the habit of hosting large groups as the seating was an eclectic mix of kitchen chairs, a rolling office chair, mismatched folding metal chairs, and a half dozen cheap, green, plastic outdoor chairs. Regardless of the improvised nature of the furnishings, after days of anxiety it was a relief that something was being done to organize the community.

The previous meeting, with no strong voice to direct it, had gotten out of hand, and Jennifer hoped this one would go better. At the last meeting, people had barely had twenty-four hours to digest the fact that their lives had been irreversibly upended, and rationally discussing how to spend the next several months had been too much for many. Most people had still been trying to wrap their mind around the fact that there would be no more trips to the grocery store, no more daily work routines, no more turning on the TV or surfing the web or calling your family across town. It was now five days removed from what was being referred to as “the event,” and Jennifer hoped that people would be able to be more reasonable.

For her part, the adjustments were ongoing and far from over. With simple things, she was managing adequately, although she still found herself flipping the light switches when the sun went down, fighting the urge to check for emails, reaching for the phone when she thought about her mother, and going to the fridge for food. On an emotional level though, Jennifer had a long way to go. She thought about Kyle on an hourly basis, sometimes more often than that if there was nothing to keep her busy. The two weeks that he had been gone prior to “the event” had been much easier, and she remembered, with some guilt, that he’d only crossed her mind occasionally during those days. Now, knowing that he should be home and wasn’t, and that she had no idea where or how he was, thoughts of Kyle were never far removed.

Jennifer watched people filter into the meeting and wondered what situations they were dealing with. Who else might be missing a spouse? Who had kids away at college? Who needed medical care? The questions were endless. She tried to read people’s expressions, but most wore masks that revealed little beyond the fact that they were scared. As she surveyed the room, Jennifer recognized a few people from her street and from school events, but most in attendance would have been complete strangers had it not been for the meeting three days before.

An older woman walked over and sat down beside Jennifer just as Doug, dressed in his uniform, stood up in front of the group of about sixty people. “I want to thank you all for coming this afternoon,” he began. “I realize the circumstances we are in are less than ideal, but I really think if we work together, we can make it through. For those who weren’t able to hear the president’s broadcast today, he warned that rioting had broken out in a number of cities and he encouraged us to be calm, but also to prepare to protect ourselves. He said the government wouldn’t be deploying the military domestically because of threats that require him to keep the troops where they are, and that we need local law enforcement to fill the vacuum.”

Doug looked around the room, his confidence seeming to grow. “Just so you know, folks, as a member of the Sheriff’s Department, I can tell you that we won’t have official law enforcement out here, at least not anything organized by the county. The county is too big, and the department is just too small, so this is going to be up to us. The President didn’t say much else, just some more patriotic crap, if you’ll excuse the expression. I just find it frustrating because we’re not going to learn anything the government doesn’t want us to know. Someone could nuke New York City tomorrow, and we wouldn’t know about it unless the President decided to say something. Anyway, on that happy note, we need to get some things figured out. I propose that we get some kind of council going so we can get organized and use the skills of the people in the community to help each other. Does anyone disagree or have a better idea?”

He looked around the room and saw most people shaking their heads. “Okay, that was easy. I guess we’ll need to start with a chairman. Who would be interested in that position? And just so you know, I’d like to be the director of security, not the head of the council, so I’m hoping someone else will volunteer for that job.”

Jennifer looked around the room and saw a few hands go up. “Good,” said Doug. “If we could get you to come up and introduce yourselves and give us your background, then we’ll have a vote.”

Four men and one woman made their way to the front of the room and took turns telling about themselves. After the impromptu campaign speeches, the candidates and their spouses were asked to leave the room. Jennifer’s options included a junior high school vice principal, a self-employed plumber, an attorney, an architect, and a county inspector. With the candidates out of the room, those left behind debated the merits of each person. The plumber’s neighbor stood up and went on and on about his neighbor’s virtues, swinging Jennifer’s vote in his direction, and when the voting was complete, the results showed the plumber winning, with the architect a close second.

Doug invited the individuals back downstairs and announced the results. Gabe Vance, the plumber, stood in front of the group. “I appreciate your trust,” he said. “I’ll try not to make you regret it. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to have Cheryl be the vice chairman, or second in charge, whatever we want to call it. She had the second most votes and seems like an exceptional lady. Is anyone opposed to that?” He looked around and, seeing no one dissenting, continued. “Thank you. Now we’re going to need more people than just Cheryl and me to make this work.” Almost like magic, Gabe took control of the room, exhibiting a confidence and warmth that engaged everyone in attendance. “Is there anyone who is organized and experienced with taking notes that could help us out?”

Without thinking, Jennifer raised her hand, followed by two others. Gabe pointed to Jennifer. “I would sure appreciate your assistance. Would you be willing to do that, miss?”

Jennifer looked back at Gabe, wishing she hadn’t been so impulsive and wanting to say no. She didn’t like to speak out, had three kids and no husband at home, and just wanted to be told what to do to survive. “Sure,” she heard herself say. “If you need the help, I can do it.”

Gabe nodded. “We’re going to need everyone’s help. I see you’ve already got a notepad. That’s great. Why don’t you come sit up here so you can hear everyone better for taking notes.”