Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
With my beer tucked under my arm and the lube stowed away in my jacket pocket, I make my way back toward the motel. It’s nearly lunchtime and I’m supposed to meet up with our group so we can head over together. Bud assured me that Janine is a fine cook and we certainly won’t be disappointed.
Once at the motel, I stash my date night stuff in our room and then find the group in the front office. Amy, Cora, and Harry are gone, but Florence and Jared are there, in a deep conversation with Kellen. Hope is braiding Hailey’s hair into a tight French braid. Hailey is smiling as she hugs Pretzel to her chest, so that’s something. Jesse and Aaron are sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, simply watching everyone with matching serene expressions. Dan stands near a window, staring out, shoulders hunched, while Wayne stands sentry by the front door, arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, dear,” Florence exclaims. “Would you look at the time? We need to head down to the fire station. I know you lot are hungry.”
Knowing this will be our last meal for the day makes my stomach clench painfully. Florence, with a knowing expression, pulls me aside and smiles.
“It’s just something we tell newcomers,” she says to me, offering me her elbow to take. “It gives us time to vet them—to make sure they’re decent.”
“And if they are?”
“They eat like the rest of us,” Florence says with a chuckle. “You’ll want to meet with Bill and Red, though, after lunch. They’ll need assistance carrying boxes of food from the box store down the road back to the fire station so Janine can get things going for supper. That store and Janine’s kitchen are about two of the only places with a working generator.”
“How does a generator keep a whole Walmart running?” I ask in astonishment.
“Honey, it’s a Costco,” she replies with a smirk as we exit the office. “And they’ve got the generator on one refrigeration room. It’s how you were able to have eggs and cheese this morning.”
“What happens when you run out?”
Florence’s smile falls and she shrugs as we walk through town on the way to the fire station. “I’m sure the government will have everything all sorted well before then. Come on, I hear Janine has spice cake for dessert with real cream cheese frosting.”
I’m reeling at her words.
The government? What government? There’s been nothing but chaos since San Francisco. This woman is delusional.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with her, but by the time I decide I should, we’re already walking up to one of six lines of people that lead into the open bays of the fire station. People laugh and chat cheerfully as they wait for their turn to grab some lunch. I watch a man walk out past us, already having gotten his food, and nearly drool. He’s carrying a heaping Styrofoam bowl of what looks to be chili with a giant slice of cornbread sitting on top. In his other hand is a square slice of cake precariously balanced on a flimsy paper plate. He has a can of Pepsi pushed into his hoodie pocket that barely peeks out.
The scent of slow-cooked meat, beans, and spices wafts past me. I nearly groan as I watch him go by. Florence chuckles and playfully pinches my arm.
“There’s plenty enough to go around, Tyler.”
We stand in line for about twenty minutes before we reach the food tables. Volunteers stand behind the tables, working hurriedly to dish up chili for everyone. I gratefully take a steaming bowl and make sure to snag both a soda and some cake on my way back out. Florence leads me to a picnic table. It’s chilly and the occasional ice pellet pings me in the face. One of the townspeople nearby complains about the cold.
Cold?
This is practically a desert island oasis compared to the frigid extremes we’ve endured.
It doesn’t take long for me to devour every damn drop on both my bowl and plate. Florence, amused by my hunger, offers me the rest of her cornbread. I eat that too without hesitation. Once we’ve disposed of our trash, she leads me to meet Bill and Red.
Bill, a huge guy with a massive beer gut and fire-red hair, leans against a work truck with a trailer hitched to the back of it. Red, as it turns out, is his much smaller, brunette wife. I’m not sure how she got the name Red, but it’s definitely more fitting for her husband.
Several people load into the trailer, including myself, and we head out to gather food. Florence stays back, waving to me, and then makes her way back into the crowd. The other people in the trailer watch me curiously and even try to strike up some small talk, but I must be a poor conversationalist these days because they eventually give up to talk to each other instead.