Read The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) Online

Authors: Deborah D. Moore

Tags: #prepper survivalist, #disaster, #dystopian, #end of the world, #prepper, #post apocalyptic, #weather disasters, #strong female lead, #apocalypse, #supervolcano

The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) (23 page)

BOOK: The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3)
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I took a red marker and put an “X” through
several of the houses.

“What are the red X’s for?” Tom asked after
he woke up from a short nap.

“This house is Pete’s,” I tapped with a
pencil, “and this one is Lenny’s. They are at Mathers Lake right
now, but will want to come home at some point. This one is… was, my
friend Kathy’s house, and the one next door was Pastor Carolyn’s.
They are off limits.” Tom didn’t question why. I couldn’t bear
seeing them used right now. “There are a few more that aren’t in
Moose Creek proper, however we’ll deal it with later.

“Tom, I have to ask: aren’t we out here in
danger of the fires spreading? We’re not that far from Marquette
and we’re surrounded by forest.”

“We’ve taken that into consideration,” Tom
said. “I saw a map of the county behind the zoning desk. Let me
show you something.” Standing in front of the map, he pointed with
a pencil. “Here’s Antler’s Basin, and here is the dam that forms
it.”

“Natural waterways,” I thought out loud.

“Not only there, also here at Three Shoes
Corner, the Little Guppy, the Big Guppy, and Snake River.” He
pointed at all the rivers that cross county road 695, the main road
to Moose Creek. “Natural
fire
breaks. Plus, Jim is sending a
munitions crew to the dam. Once everyone is out of Marquette,
they’re blowing the dam to create a wider river right next to
town.”

“You do remember what happened the last time
the dam was breeched, don’t you, Tom? We had six inches of rain in
two days during spring meltdown,” I said. “The dam couldn’t hold
the water and it burst. The resulting flood took out three bridges,
including the two that are Moose Creek’s access to Marquette. We
were completely cut off.”

“Yes, I remember. We’re hoping with a
controlled detonation the bridges won’t be compromised,” he
responded. “I hope it works.”

“What about our electricity? Is that going to
fail as the fires spread?”

“Anything is possible, Allex, however the
lines that feed Moose Creek that come from Wisconsin run here, on
this side of the Antler Basin River.” He pointed to an area outside
of Marquette. “How long the power lasts is anybody’s guess at this
point. One tree down almost anywhere, and it’s gone. We lost power
in Marquette days ago. Jim had his men bring a couple of generators
from Sawyer. You should see those things, they’re huge. One is
keeping Walstroms lit up so they can work in there; the other is
keeping the arena cooled off and powered. With all the people in
that confined space, it gets very warm, and with the heat from the
fires, well, that generator is getting a workout. Jim says it’s
capable of running the entire airport, so he’s not afraid of
overloading it.”

“Can you show me where the fires are
concentrated?” I handed Tom a red marker. “Tom …” I pointed to a
grouping of red dots near the shoreline just outside of town.

“Yes, we know, Allex. That’s why the
evacuation was called, the deciding factor so to speak. The fires
have already hit the edges of the coal yard that feeds the power
plant. Once it really takes hold, it will burn for years. Marquette
is lost.”

CHAPTER 28

 

 

While I stood there contemplating the map and
all those red dots, Jason and Amanda pulled into the parking
lot.

“There are forty-five houses within Moose
Creek proper, Mom, I’m sure you know that,” Jason said, looking at
my taped together map on the wall in the meeting room. “All of them
are within walking distance to the school.”

“I think the ten houses that actually face
the school should be held for the families with the youngest
children,” Amanda stated. “Most of them are three bedrooms, and
that bi-level house right across from the school has four bedrooms.
On the next street, the houses that back up to these are all two
bedrooms or have a third in a loft.” She looked closer at my map.
“What are the red X’s for?”

“Those are the ones that are off limits for
one reason or another.” I took the pad from her with all their
notes. “You two did great. Jason, will you and Eric do the same
thing for all the motels? I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention to
how many units each one has, and that’s something we need to know.”
I tore the sheets from the pad and gave it back to Jason. “Amanda,
can you stay and help us here when the first group arrives?”

“Of course! What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure. Tom, do you have any idea how
many will be showing up today?” I asked.

“I can’t be certain, maybe as many as a
hundred women and their children,” he responded.

I suddenly felt very overwhelmed! How were we
going to process that many?

Amanda must have recognized the panicked
look. “Mom, what if we issue numbers, like they do at the deli? We
can take them one at a time.”

I nodded. “There are packs of 3x5 index cards
in the vault. Will you number a stack one through fifty? I’m going
to put this list of addresses on the computer along with your
information and print it out. After we get everyone assigned, we
can add names to the list. Tom, we need to talk.”

Once in the privacy of the office, I confided
in him my growing concern.

“I’m worried about entitlement attitudes,
Tom. We’re giving these people free housing, free schooling, and
for a time, free food. I don’t want anyone thinking they are going
to get a total free ride. We need to set down rules.”

“I’ve been thinking about that myself, though
your concern might be premature. I’ve seen these people, met them,
and talked with them. Most of them are so thankful to have someone
giving directions they’ll do anything to be taken care of,” he
replied.

“That’s what I mean, Tom, they want to be
taken care of
.” I paced while I thought. “I still think we
should lay some ground rules and go from there. You should be the
one who addresses it though. I’ll back you up.”

The first busload arrived a half hour later,
along with the semi-truck from the food warehouse. The truck parked
at Fram’s and the bus emptied into the township parking lot. Amanda
passed out thirty-two numbers as they filed quietly in. The adults
sat in the chairs and the children sat on the floor or wandered
around.

While everyone was getting settled, I had a
brief chat with Amanda, and she went across the street to the truck
and secured a couple of large cans of soup, plastic spoons, and
Styrofoam cups.

“I’ve met some of you already. For those I
haven’t, I’m Tom White, the Emergency Manager for Marquette County.
This is Allexa Smeth, the Emergency Manager for Moose Creek. For
the time being, we are in charge. If you have any questions or
concerns, you bring them to us.

“The guidelines for your stay here are
simple: Until everyone is here, the housing you are assigned is
temporary. There may be some adjusting necessary. Plus, there are
some who are coming
back
to Moose Creek, and it’s only
reasonable that they would want their own house back. We don’t know
who they may be yet.

“On the back of the card you were given,
please print your full name, your husband or significant other’s
name if they will be joining you later, and your children’s names
and ages. Also, yours and your husband’s occupation or any other
skills you have. If you have hobbies like sewing, knitting, or
gardening, write it down.

“Next: Everyone here has children, and all
children from age four to sixteen
will
attend school once
things settle down. Your housing is in the center of town and the
closest to the school so the kids can walk.

“For the next week or so, meals will be
furnished at the Inn. That’s the big red and gray building across
from the school. It has a commercial kitchen and restaurant
seating. Remember, this whole situation is new to us too, so we
need time to figure out how to handle things. So please be
patient.”

Just then one of the older boys pushed a
smaller boy, who fell against another who pushed him back, and a
little girl started screaming. A mother glanced over at the
instigator, said something to him, and turned back to us. The boy
pushed again and she ignored him.

I stood up. “The next thing we are going to
address is your children’s behavior! You,” I pointed at the dyed
redhead, “Get that boy under control or you will be both on the
next bus back to Marquette.” She looked ready to protest and then
thought better of it. She took the boy by the arm and stepped
outside.

“We are not your babysitters. Understand that
and things will work much smoother. I know everyone is in a state
of shock. Believe me, at this point, so am I. I found out three
hours ago I was going to have five hundred people on my hands. I’ll
be blunt,” I said, “I’m not happy about it. All I ask is you
respect each other. We all need to work together. You or your kids
act up, you’re out of here.” I sat back down and the room got very
quiet.

“Who is number one?” Tom asked, barely
suppressing a chuckle.

The first woman came to the desk and
presented her 3x5 card. Tom checked her name on the back, how many
children she had, their ages, and if she was expecting a husband to
join them later. He then passed the card to me, and I did my best
to match a house for them. I wrote an address on another 3x5 card
and handed it to the subdued woman, who sat back down.

“Once you’ve been processed, you’re welcome
to get a cup of hot soup over at the kitchen here. Please take care
of the containers yourself. Remember,
nothing
is disposable
anymore. Even the Styrofoam cups will be washed and reused.”

Tom called the next one up, a young woman
with a very young and very pregnant daughter.

“I saw the sign across the road,” she said.
“You have a hospital here?”

“Yes… Judi,” I said, glancing at the card Tom
had handed me. “My husband is a doctor. And this is Marci?” I gave
them a warm smile. Mark will be delighted to have another maternity
case.

“Oh, thank God!” Judi leaned in to whisper,
“Marci is only thirteen. She’s only a child herself and I’m so
worried about her delivery.”

“Once everyone gets here and settles in, you
can set up an appointment with him,” I reassured her.

Tom called the next one and we processed all
of the families in less than an hour. Once everyone had a cup of
soup they were more cordial, even chatting and laughing amongst
themselves.

I stood to address the room. “A few more
things we need to cover. The clinic and hospital across the street
are for trauma care. It’s a field hospital with only four beds, and
we have only one doctor. If you break your arm or get injured
somehow, he can take care of it. If your kids come down with a cold
or the measles, he
can’t
fix it. Keep the child or yourself
at home to prevent spreading whatever it is you have. This is
not
a clinic to run to with every sniffle or bruise.

“After you settle into your new house, please
feel free to wander around town. There’s a playground and tennis
courts behind the school. There is also a picnic park and a ball
field near the old post office. We hope to have the food service
operating within the next couple of hours. That will also be where
notices will be posted.”

 

~~~

 

The women and children were loaded back onto
the waiting bus. Tom decided to stay behind and work on the
computerized list, while Amanda and I joined our new residents for
the short ride to their new homes.

As we turned up Superior Lane, I pointed out
the Inn on one side and the school on the other. Another twenty
yards and I asked the driver to stop. After checking my handwritten
list, I called out the first three names and they got off the bus,
along with what luggage they had. They matched up the house number
on their card and let themselves in.

We repeated this sequence every half block
until the bus was empty.

Back at the township hall, I gave the bus
driver a big bowl of soup. When he finished, he went back to
Marquette and the sports arena to wait for the next load of
refugees.

As rocky as this first processing was, I
hoped they would all be this smooth.

 

~~~

 

“Mom, here’s the list for the motels,” Eric
said, handing me his spiral pad. “I’m surprised so many of them
have kitchenettes.”

“That could be handy,” I thought out loud.
“What we really need at the moment, though, is some workable system
of feeding everyone. Tom, did you see anything on those cards about
cooks?”

“The only one that was remotely close was
someone who said they loved to cook,” he told me as he flipped
through the cards. “Here it is: Piper Weston.” He jotted down the
address she had been assigned.

“Amanda, would you go talk to her and see if
she could help? Once we get the women together again, we should
recruit kitchen help. These people will have to learn right from
the start to do things for themselves,” I said. “Jason, can you
drive that semi over to the service entrance of the Inn? The driver
went back with the bus. Then you and Eric unload what looks useful,
like cans of soup or stews, easy to fix items. Use your best
judgment. It will give them a start, but keep the rest of it locked
up.”

“I can help with the cooking, Mom,” Jason
offered.

“If you want, but I need Eric back here
before the next busload arrives,” I reminded them.

 

Ken and Karen arrived back at the offices
around one o’clock, looking a bit peaked. Ken handed me their list
while Karen went into the bathroom and threw up.

“What’s going on, Ken?” I asked, looking over
at the bathroom door that was only partially closed.

Ken wiped his hand over his face and took a
deep breath. “Everything was going really well and we were getting
a lot done. Keith and Carron Kaye are still in their home by the
way, and said to say hi. Anyway, we were almost finished when we
ran into a problem on the east end of the lake. We knocked first
like we had been doing, and someone answered, said to come in,” he
visibly shuddered. “It was Harvey Ward. He was sitting in a
recliner, buck-naked, holding a shotgun, and he… wasn’t alone.
There were ten corpses in the living room, Allexa! He had them
sitting in chairs, on the couch watching movies. There were even
four sitting at the table like they were playing pinochle!”

BOOK: The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3)
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