Page 100 of Into the Mist

“Thanks,” Stella said. “We’d appreciate that. We have come to depend on Ford.”

“I’m not surprised at all. Such a tall, capable man.” Amber gave Ford an appreciative look. “Follow me and let’s get you out of this cold.”

Beside Stella, Mercury whispered, “The misogyny is strong with that one.”

Ford covered his laugh with a cough.

Amber took them to a big Suburban that didn’t just look new, but as she opened the back door, new car smell wafted through the rain to them.

“If you hand Ron and Wes—” Amber laughed softly—“oops, sorry I cut the introductions short—this is Wes Marshall.” She gestured to the second man, who dipped his head but said nothing. “If you give the men your backpacks, they’ll put them in the rear so you have plenty of room in the seats. We’re not going far, but you might as well be comfortable.”

Mercury glanced at Stella, who surreptitiously nodded and then slid her backpack from her shoulders and gave it to Wes.

“Thanks,” Mercury said when she slipped out of Ford’s backpack and handed it to him. She watched his eyes widen as he felt its weight. She shrugged. “I log a lot of gym time.”

They climbed into the Suburban. Amber got behind the wheel, leaving Ron and Wes at the roadblock.

Mercury leaned forward as Amber put the big SUV in gear. “We’ve hardly seen any vehicles still running—and this one looks brand new—like those other SUVs blocking the highway.”

Amber smiled and nodded. “Oh, it is! We’re fortunate that our Chevy dealership was hardly damaged in the quakes. Any vehicle not running when the bombs went off is in perfect working order.”

Mercury sat back as Karen said, “That does seem very fortunate.”

“And please understand”—Amber caught Mercury’s gaze in the rearview mirror—“the only reason we’ve blocked off the city center is so that we can better help survivors find shelter.”

“That’s kind of you,” Karen said.

“We count our blessing here in Madras. We also have a farm supply store that was almost untouched by the quake. It has a great selection of generators, which is why you’ll see”—she paused as she took a left, and suddenly lights glowed from the windows of a few buildings—“that we do have some electricity!”

Mercury stared out the window. The shimmer of lights through the rain should’ve been comforting, but instead she shivered—chilled by more than the cold.

“The lights on your left are coming from our city library. It, the Fellowship Church, and our elementary school are the shelters Mayor Cruz has designated for newly arrived survivors.”

“It doesn’t look like this part of town was damaged very badly,” said Ford.

“Oh, here in the heart of downtown we did pretty well, but what you can’t see at night is that many of the building are cracked andunstable. That’s another reason we’ve isolated this section of the town. We’re housing survivors here, but we can’t allow people to just go into any building they choose. It’s not safe.”

“Did you lose many of your citizens?” Stella asked.

Amber’s perkiness dimmed. “Yes. It has been tragic. Before the disaster our population was at about seven thousand souls. Right now we have a little under four hundred healthy citizens, with several dozen wounded. And we’re learning that sometimes those who don’t seem badly hurt suddenly die for no discernable reason.”

“Do you have a working hospital?” Mercury asked.

“Our hospital was severely damaged in the quake, but we managed to save quite a lot of medical supplies, and we have two doctors who survived. Mayor Cruz has set up a temporary hospital in the courthouse.”

“Your mayor has been a busy woman,” Stella said.

Amber’s smile returned. “She’s a dynamo! And here we are—the elementary school. It was already a designated disaster shelter for the community and had several working generators, so it was easy to turn classrooms into temporary housing. The water lines are intact to the school, which really helps as there are plenty of bathrooms and two locker rooms with working showers—andhot water.”

“A hot shower sounds heavenly,” said Karen.

“As I said, Madras is truly blessed.” Amber parked in front of a large brick building with a row of blue doors and lights glowing from within. “Okay, let’s get you settled.”

They filed out of the Suburban, paused to reclaim their backpacks, and then followed Amber through the blue doors into the foyer of the school. Mercury couldn’t help it—the instant they were inside the school, she felt the tension in her shoulders start to relax. All schools had things in common: the shiny linoleum floors, the trophy cases, the walls of lockers, the florescent ceiling lights. And to Mercury, that meant home and safety and familiarity.

“Down this hallway are the classrooms we’ve turned into shelters.” Amber guided them past the administrative offices situated inside the front doors of the school, and turned left. The hall was wide, with classrooms on one side and lockers topped by narrow rectangular windows high above them on the other. Only a very few of the overhead lights were on, but every classroom they passed had the glow of lights that were softer than florescent seeping under thedoors. From some of the classrooms, muffled sobs spilled into the hallway with the light.

“It’s so very sad.” Amber shook her head and hurried them along. “So many losses. Mayor Cruz has vowed to put together a team of therapists to counsel people. Are any of you therapists or have mental health training?”