Page 74 of Heart of the Sun

“And Tuck?”

I nodded.

“Oh, forgive my manners. Can I offer you a glass of water?” Jane asked.

“That’d be great,” Emily said.

“Thanks,” I added as Jane stood and left the room.

“We’re from California,” I told Tom. “Our plane crashed in the wilderness in Illinois. Like Emily said, we eventually made it to a small town named Silver Creek n Missouri, and then walked or caught rides from there to here. We’ve mostly taken back roads, traveling during the day and camping at night.”

Jane came back into the room carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and three glasses and set it on the coffee table.

“Their plane went down, Jane.”

She’d started pouring but now paused and looked up at us. “Oh my. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“They’ve been walking and camping since then,” he told her before looking back at us. “This isn’t the best time of year for camping.”

“No, it’s not, especially with very limited supplies. But we have to get back home, and as you’ve probably noticed, the only vehicles that are running seem to be pre-1980 models.”

“Sure did. If the power doesn’t come back on soon, those are going to become real valuable.”

“They already are valuable, and probably getting stolen left and right. We’ve hitched a ride a couple of times, but everyone is being very cautious, which is understandable.”

He gave a nod, his craggy features troubled. Jane handed a glass of water to each of us, and we all drank. The preteen who’d held us at gunpoint wandered in with a boy who looked to be just a couple of years older and they stood by the stairs. “Kyler, Luca, you go on. This is an adult conversation.”

The boys’ faces dropped, but they turned to leave the room.“Actually, sir,” I said, “they’re your boys, but if I can be blunt, you’re going to need all hands on deck for what’s heading your way.”

Tom Pritchard glanced back at his sons, who had stopped and were looking at their father eagerly. He sighed and gestured that they should stay in the room. “Call Uriah too.”

The older of the two boys leaned toward the stairs and called their brother, and a minute later, footsteps sounded and a boy who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen descended into the room.

I told him the short version of what had happened to us so far and included what I’d talked to Sheriff Goodfellow about.

Tom and Jane exchanged looks, their expressions registering the same stark disbelief that mine had when I’d been told about the outage extending all the way to Pennsylvania, and possibly beyond, and about the fires and the likely exodus, that so far seemed to be a trickle but would pick up as food and water disappeared. “My God,” Tom murmured, running his hand over his sparse hair. “Okay. What else?”

I gave them a brief description of what Isaac had told us about his experience, and then what we’d learned from Hosea, leaving out that 90 percent statistic that I still couldn’t believe was accurate. There was no reason to terrify people unnecessarily. “The grid won’t be back up for a long time, potentially years. People are going to be coming from the cities and eventually, some of the towns,” I said. “We’ve seen foot traffic pick up quite a bit. Right now, it seems like folks heading specific places—namely to family—but I’d imagine that soon it will simply be people escaping hopeless situations. Like Emily said, the stores are emptied out by now. In a few weeks, most pantries will be dry. I don’t know about everywhere, but in these parts, farms will eventually be in possession of the last of the food. And that eventuality is fast approaching if it’s not here already.”

Jane took Tom’s hand between them, and the three boys moved closer to where we were seated.

“Your chickens will become more precious than gold. I’d work with neighbors you trust to have them guarded around the clock. I’d also gather your neighbors and form a perimeter. Moving as many of your garden plants inside and starting to preserve seeds. Families will come here looking for help. There’ll be children, and babies. You’ll have to turn them away because if you don’t, your own family will die. Some won’t ask, some will be prepared to take, and you’ll have to be ready for that too.”

Tom glanced at his sons and then met my eyes. “We have ammunition.”

“Are you ready to shoot a hungry mother who’s trying to feed her toddler or a child the same age of one of your sons?”

Jane let out a small sound of distress, and Tom scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not telling you what you have to do—I’m only telling you to be prepared.”

Jane gave a jerky nod. “Yes. We understand.”

“How soon do you estimate?” the oldest boy named Uriah asked.

“Isaac was among the first to leave the city. He was alone and kept moving. If you’d been on his route, he’d already be to you.”

“We’ve seen some travelers out on the road, and a few have come this way, which is why Kyler was on the porch watching for trespassers when he spotted you. But…”

“I don’t know exact timing, but I’d estimate you have about a week until the numbers increase. Whether that’s a little or a lot depends on many factors.” Routes from cities. The locations around them where folks might stop first. If I were these people, I’d sit down and calculate it all out, but we’d given them the information. The rest would be up to them, because we’d be gone by morning. Tom seemed deep in thought, and I figured it was a good bet that he was already doing some calculations. He looked at his oldest son. “Uriah and Luca, go see the Bensons, Ortizes, Perkinses, and Hillmans. Tell them to meet here at ten a.m. tomorrow morning.”

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