Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

Jennifer stood slowly and walked to the front. She wasn’t sure why she’d volunteered. Maybe it was that Gabe had a certain confidence she was drawn to, and he reminded her of her father with his folksy charm. Gabe was older, probably late fifties, with short, dark, gray-streaked hair, and was one of the few men who was still cleanly shaven. He was a little on the heavy side, and his cheeks sagged a little, but his face radiated a confidence and wisdom that put her at ease. Gabe grabbed the plastic lawn chair he’d been sitting in and set it at the front of the room for Jennifer.

“Thank you, Ms…?”

“Tait. Jennifer Tait.”

“Thank you, Ms. Tait. If you could write some things down, that would be helpful.” He turned back to the group. “We’ll need some form of law enforcement, as was mentioned earlier. Doug’s been great with things so far. Is anyone opposed to him leading out in that area?” Again, people shook their heads. “That’s good. I was also thinking we’ll need a person with some medical experience for our team. Do we have any doctors here?”

Everyone turned to survey the room, hoping for a hand to go up, but none did. After a few seconds of silence, a woman near the back of the room stood. “I’m a veterinarian,” she said, looking around. “I realize we’d all prefer a regular doctor, but I do have a fair bit of the same background and training.”

“Well, a vet beats a plumber,” said Gabe smiling. “I think you’d be of great service. Are there any objections?”

A few whispers rippled through the room, but no one voiced any concerns. “Looks like you’re hired. What’s your name?”

“Carol Jeffries.”

“Welcome, Carol.”

In like manner a gardening expert, an education coordinator, and a sanitation director were selected. “I think we’ve enough people on the council, at least for the time being,” said Gabe. “I’d like to meet with the council tomorrow, but for the rest of the time today, I wondered if the rest of you would let us know what kinds of issues you see that we can work together to resolve. And please remember, we’re pretty limited in our resources, so we’ll only have each other to rely on.”

A number of hands were raised in the air, and Gabe pointed to people while Jennifer took notes. “I have no clean water.” “My kids are missing out on their education.” “Our family is almost out of food.” “My child was in Seattle visiting his dad for the long weekend, how do I get him back?” Jennifer wrote furiously to record all of the issues. “My toilet doesn’t work.” “Someone is stealing fruit from my trees.” Jennifer heard an older woman’s voice and looked up to see the lady she had been sitting next to speaking. “My husband is on dialysis,” she said. “I can’t get him to the doctor, and I don’t know what to do so he won’t die? He’s not doing well.” The room went quiet and all eyes turned towards the woman.

“I’m not sure, ma’am,” said Gabe softly. “Maybe Carol could visit with you after the meeting. If anyone has experience in that area, if you would also please stay.”

After enough issues were raised to fill three pages with notes, the meeting was wrapped up and the following Sunday set for the next meeting with the community. Jennifer was amazed at the difference between this and the previous gathering. Whether it was the fact that people were adjusting to the situation or Gabe’s reassuring personality, this meeting had been conducted without the bickering and acrimony that had marred the first one. Jennifer noted that even her own mood had improved since the meeting began. Having someone like Gabe, a person who could lead naturally without intimidation or force and who seemed sincere and able to make wise decisions, made things feel much less desperate.

Jennifer shook Gabe’s hand as she prepared to leave. His grip was firm and she could feel thick calluses on his fingers. “Thank you so much for helping us,” he said with a smile and a wink. “It’s quite a challenge we’ve got, isn’t it?”

Jennifer nodded. “It is, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Thursday, September 8 th

Deer Creek, Montana

Jennifer wheeled David’s bike out of the garage towards the front street just as the sun began to peak over the eastern horizon. It had been years since she had ridden a bicycle, but after a few blocks, she was pedaling comfortably down the street on her way to Missoula. She wore a sweatshirt to keep warm in the unseasonably cold weather, and with no activity in the streets, she rode in near silence, the only sound being that of a squeaky wheel and the rocks that crackled under the tires.

On her back, she wore David’s school pack filled with a handful of sturdy bags that she hoped to load up with supplies. Her plan was to try and find some food in Missoula and see what the situation was. At yesterday’s meeting, a few people had commented on their forays into the city, and Jennifer was anxious to see for herself how things were. Her family’s dwindling food supply was worrying her, and while it would still be awhile before they were down to nothing, anything extra she could find would be welcome.

Pedaling steadily, Jennifer covered the fifteen miles into town faster than expected. It had only been six days since she’d driven this road, and she was shocked to see such a big change in so short a time. At the early hour, the ride into Missoula was like a scene from a disaster movie — abandoned cars littering the streets, no one emerging from their home, no farmers working their fields, no radios blaring, no airplanes overhead. It was unsettling, and Jennifer’s nerves were on edge the entire trip.

An hour after leaving home, Jennifer arrived at her regular grocery store and was surprised to see that the parking lot was half full of vehicles, then she realized those cars were abandoned as well. She rode up to the front of the building, leaned her bike against a lamppost, and chained it there. Glass was broken out of one of the front doors, and she carefully pushed against the frame. The door resisted, the motor for the automatic door fighting her efforts, but allowed her to enter.

As she stepped inside, the sound of the door closing behind her echoed ominously in the empty store. The only illumination in the building came from the sun streaming through the front windows in a dozen blazing pillars of light. Nervous, Jennifer paused and listened, then looked behind her to see if anyone might be following her before taking a deep breath and walking further into the store. She looked down the first aisle and was greeted by a gut-wrenching sight. Shelves that had been packed full with groceries a week before were empty, stripped of everything but shelf labels and sale signs. Jennifer walked up and down each aisle hoping to find just a few items, but with each step she became more certain there would be nothing left for her. She noted as she passed the greeting card and magazine racks that even those had been emptied.

Removing a small flashlight from her pack, Jennifer searched through the back room, finding only a few packages of spoiled meat and several boxes of ice cream that had long since drained their contents onto the floor of the warm freezer.

Jennifer walked slowly back to the front of the store, her feet heavy, the squeak of her shoes on the tile floor sounding louder and louder with each step. Back outside, she shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight and walked dejectedly to a bench near her bicycle. Jennifer felt tired and helpless, and even though the day had warmed, her body felt cold and weak. The situation weighed heavily on her — children who needed to eat, Kyle gone, no contact with her family, and her world turned upside down. The weight of the world seemed to squeeze her like a vise, pressing the air from her lungs and the hope from her heart.