Standard Disclaimer: No copyrighted material used in this chapter belongs to me. This story belongs to Linda Howard/Jones with some RIB and the writers of Glee mixed in.

This chapter is mostly Cedes' POV, and you know what is mostly on her mind, survival...or a certain mountain man lol.

Chapter Seven

The smell from the big smokers and grills permeated the air. The men had been up all night cooking the meat and they looked weary to the bone. The meaty perfume had Cedes's mouth water even though she'd had breakfast, such as it was: a cereal bar, some fruit, and water. She hadn't felt like bothering with making coffee because that would mean boiling water, and now she was feeling the lack, but that would soon be remedied.

Some ladies had covered the long tables with plastic tablecloths and had set out sun tea. The process of brewing sugar water with tea with the heat of the sunlight. Also on the tables were a lot of salads that had to be eaten before spoiling that were made from vegetables and potatoes. There was also collard greens, corn on the cob, southern style green beans, smashed potatoes, Cole slaw, dirty rice, cornbread, baked beans and fruits for dessert. The only thing that was missing from a Tennessee barbecue was some macaroni and cheese.

There were a few vehicles around driven to haul or transport heavy items, but for the most part people had walked, biked, or ridden horses to conserve their gasoline.

Patio umbrellas and tents were set up for shade, folding chairs were placed around the tables, kids were running around playing like there was not a crisis going on in their world. Kids were resilient.

Her aunt and cousin had helped her load most of their stuff in Matt's old wagon and pulled it to the field, where Roz had set up a space underneath a tent. At Cedes's suggestion, they had brought a small portable grill, charcoal, a blue enamel camp kettle, cups, napkins, and a few bags of coffee and donuts from her store. She and Roz swiftly got the charcoal going and the coffee brewing. Soon the smell of coffee and the appearance of donuts were luring people to the tent, where they found themselves cornered into either offering ideas or volunteering to help—Cedes hoped they were doing both, but one thing for sure, if they got a cup of coffee then their names were going on Roz's list.

After helping herself to a single cup of coffee, she told Roz, "I'm going to walk around, see who's all here and what they've accomplished."

"You need to take a pen and notebook to jot down their names," Roz suggested, handing both items to her.

That was a good idea. She roamed around not only noting exactly what different people had to share but also seeing who was the most organized and prepared, because they were the people Roz would want to talk to. She also kept an eye on Bree, who had connected with some of her school friends; there was a lot of laughing and dramatic gesturing going on. And even though she knew he wouldn't be here, she couldn't keep her eyes from searching for Sam to see if he was lingering somewhere in the distance.

He wasn't of course; he was likely sleeping, which she wished she was doing. After he'd left she had gone to bed and managed to get a few hours' sleep, but already she could feel the lack of rest. When the cookout was over and some organization was in place, maybe she could catch up on her sleep.

Not surprisingly, most of the talk she overheard was about the red aurora.

"Did you see that sky last night?"

"I thought it was Armageddon—"

"Oh man, I was so tired I went right to sleep and missed it—"

She thought the red aurora would be showing up for a while, with all the atmospheric turmoil, but didn't stop to join in the various conversations because she had nothing new to share. She recalled sitting on the steps with Sam and watching the sky as an experience she would keep to herself; she hadn't even told Roz about the moment they'd shared—if sitting beside each other could be called a moment—because it was both too intimate and too undefined. Roz would make a big deal out of it, joking that the Trouty Mouth Hottie had a thing for Cedes, and Cedes discovered that she couldn't take being kidded about Sam being interested in her.

It was not like they'd had any flirting or romance happening when they barely spoke a hundred words with each other. They had shared a phenomenon that they'd never forget. Yes, their arms had brushed causing her body to react but she didn't get any sign from him that he was interested in her that way. Though if there was any other person in the town with whom Sam Evans had willingly spent that length of time, and actually touched, she didn't know who it would be. Of course, for all she knew he had regularly had booty calls with any number of women, but he seemed far too reclusive for that and no woman in the area would be able to keep from mentioning it.

She had to stop walking and collect herself. With Sam on her brain she had forgotten what she had set out to do. Sam was a mystery and that increased the appeal of him to her. She knew she felt like what her adolescent crushes had felt like, and she had thought she'd grown beyond that. Evidently she was dead wrong. He was tearing down some of the walls, she had built around herself, and she didn't know if she liked that or not.

Suddenly someone behind her gripped her arm, and she turned to find Herb Duncan standing there. If that wasn't immediate punishment for letting herself get distracted, she didn't know what was. He released her and caught another woman's hand, tugging her to him. "Bailey, this is—sorry, I didn't catch your name last night."

"Cedes Jones," she supplied, and held out her hand to Bailey. "It's really nice to meet you."

"Yeah. This is my wife, Bailey."

She'd already figured that out. Bailey Duncan appeared to be the exact opposite of her husband, who last night Cedes was about to rip a new hole into. She had a kind face and her smile was authentic. She shook Cedes's hand, then looked around the busy field. "Isn't this something? So many people, all helping each other and sharing."

"It's also important to cook the perishable things and not let them go to waste—" Cedes began.

Herb interrupted with, "Her mother was chosen as our community's leader." He was still perturbed about that.

"My aunt," Cedes corrected. "On my father's side of the family." She often had to explain to people that they were actually related by blood. Never before had Roz had been mistaken as her mom. Cedes had taken after her mother's side of the family. Short and round. While her father had been tall and athletic like her aunt. Maybe Herb was one of those white people who thought all black people looked alike.

Herb's curled up lip said he didn't care on which side of Cedes's family Roz came from. "Where is she? I've come up with some ideas about what we should be doing."

"I have no doubt," she murmured, and turned to point across the field. "She's set up in that big tent with the red stripes. And she has coffee brewing, if you'd like a cup and donuts if any are left. All ideas are welcome."

"Herb's really good at getting things done," Bailey said, looking up at him with a smile, one that he returned with such obvious affection that Cedes blinked in surprise. When he looked at his wife, his expression changed completely. It was a reminder that even jerks could have redeeming qualities, something she should remember. Seeing him with his wife made her feel less hostile to him, and that was a good thing considering how they would all have to work together in the coming months.

She soon forgot about the couple as the morning wore on because she was approached by a couple who had to be in their seventies but were lean and spry, and offered their knowledge of herbs in the event of sickness. A group of women in a quilting circle offered to make quilts for those who didn't have enough covers for the coming winter. A few men offered to hunt for those who couldn't. Cedes wrote down names and addresses, with notes about capabilities and offers. A system needed to be created to connect those in need with the people offering services, and also a means of payment by barter, though what the people in need could offer in return would be way more complicated to set up. She was mulling that over when someone over by Roz's tent rang a cowbell, calling them all to gather together.

The sun was really beating down now, so the pastor who gave the blessing was smart enough to keep it brief before Roz invited everyone to start eating. Cedes had made her way to Roz's side, and winked at her aunt. "Good strategy, feeding everyone before you start roping them into work."

"I wasn't born yesterday," Roz replied, smirking. "Or in this century, come to that. And speaking of this century, have you seen Bree?"

"She's okay; I saw her hanging with her friends." Cedes looked around and caught sight of one of Bree after a quick survey of the teenaged group helped her to locate Bree. "There she is." There weren't any boys in the knot of teenagers, not yet anyways.

Roz nodded, then gestured to the notebook. "Did you get any useful information?"

"I sure did. How was Herb Duncan? Did he share anything useful?" She actually hoped he did, because that would soothe his ego and make him less problematic to deal with or so she hoped. Not that he was a big problem yet, but something about him made her wary of him causing problems later on.

"I am not certain, but I wrote them down. You never can tell how things will work out in the future."

Cedes got up and filled plates for Roz and herself, got glasses of tea, then they sat with their heads together under the tent and tried to brainstorm with the information they had gathered that morning. Roz did have some volunteers, a few of whom she deemed as liars. Ronnie Nelson couldn't be trusted to check on the elderly because she would likely steal their medications. Brittany Pierce was a sweetheart, but she was one of those people who never followed through. And so on, and so on.

"We can't expect people to routinely donate their time and services out of the goodness of their hearts," Cedes said as she absently drew circles on the notepad. "In a short-term emergency people will give, but this is going to last for a while."

"You're thinking of setting up a barter system?"

"There isn't anything else that will work. Well, there is right now, but what about later on when winter is here and food is getting scarce?"

"But what could people offer? If they need someone to hunt for them then they can't offer food, right? Food's what they need, not what they have a surplus of."

"Sewing. Child care. Cooking. Knowledge. The elderly will be the most in need, but they also have the most knowledge in how to get things done without electricity. Teaching. The kids can't be left at loose ends, they still need to be in some kind of learning environment, as well as helping out with everything that needs to be done." Cedes sat back, thinking of her own situation. She needed firewood and Brett Bukowski had offered to keep her supplied, so now she needed to come up with some way to pay him for the wood. Cutting firewood was hard work. The chain saws would work only until they ran out of fuel, then any cutting would be done by hand, with axes.

This was getting overcomplicated. In one way everything was being stripped down to the basics, but they needed to survive as a community, which meant there were a lot of important pieces that needed to be stitched together in a workable plan.

Roz drank her coffee. "You should be the one doing this. You just came up with several things that never crossed my mind. I am more good at telling people what to do."

"But I didn't know about Ronnie being a medication thief," Cedes replied, determined not to be manipulated into doing something she didn't want. "Besides, I wasn't elected; you were."

"How could you be elected when you wouldn't even step forward?" Roz demanded, her tone exasperated.

"It's too late now and I will help you as much as possible," Cedes pointed out.

A huge sound exploded in the direction of the big grills, and they immediately jumped to their feet. A crowd was already gathering, but through a gap they saw two men rolling on the ground with fists flying.

"Oh hell," Roz said, and sighed. "This is never gonna work." They waited as Dr. Mike and some other man pulled the two fighting men apart. Fighting over sizes of meat. The triviality of it all.

After the cookout was over, Cedes did an assessment and knew it was a good idea in that it took care of a lot of food that might otherwise have spoiled, but other than that not a lot was accomplished. Roz had names, they had some ideas, but there was almost no forward movement in organizing anything. The crisis was too new, and the situation wasn't critical yet. The weather was still good. People still had food. For the most part, people were adjusting to life without electricity, spending time outside in the shade from the trees, going to bed as soon as it got dark, and tackling whatever they thought they needed to do to get ready for winter.

Even though Cedes knew it was critical to get organized now, she knew she had to do what everybody else was doing. She managed to cut enough off her drainpipes that she could fit her big plastic storage totes beneath them to catch rainwater . . . not that there was a whole lot of rain this time of year, though if a big tropical storm swept in that could change. In the meantime, every afternoon she and other people walked back and forth multiple times to the nearest creek, collecting water in whatever container they could carry. She was getting muscles in her arms and calves and losing weight so there was something good that had resulted in the blackout.

She spent most of her time at Roz's house. Every day, her aunt tried the Y2K windup radio to see if she could pick up any broadcast, but it wasn't picking up anything yet. When Cedes suggested they go outside so there would be less interference, the radio became sort of a neighborhood thing. People volunteered to operate the crank to charge the battery. Someone brought out a folding card table, and Roz would set the radio on it while everyone gathered around, hoping that each day would be the one where they finally heard something.

Seven days later, words emerged from the static. People who had been talking immediately fell silent, crowding around the card table.

"—all stores are empty. Communications are—" The signal was overtaken by static, obliterating what else was said, but at least there had been something. They were a good distance from Knoxville and the atmosphere was still not right, as evidenced by the aurora that still danced overhead at night, though Cedes thought it was more muted in color and the red was now mixed with more green.

"It has to get better," she murmured. "I am talking about the reception." Though obviously the radio stations were running on reserve generator power, and who knew how long that would last. She hoped the atmosphere would settle down before transmission stopped, so they could get some useful information.

"Maybe if we move the radio to higher ground," Mike Chang said, looking around. "I can get a ladder and take it to the top of the house."

"We'd all have to get on top of the house to hear it," his wife, Tina Cohen Chang, pointed out, punching him in the arm.

"Let's just keep trying from where we are," Roz said, feathering the dial, searching for another station.

When another voice came through, this one more clearly, they all jumped.

"—operating under emergency power, and will continue to do so as long as possible. PSAs are scheduled to be aired every day at nine a.m. Please tune in tomorrow at that time. This is our last broadcast today."

Some people still wore wristwatches, and they all automatically noted the time. "It's four-twenty," Mike noted, and everyone who wore a watch synchronized the time, to make certain their watches weren't running slow; they didn't want to miss the morning broadcast.

The next morning they all gathered in Roz's yard; word had spread that Roz had a hand-crank radio and it wasn't just neighborhood people gathered around to listen. Others in the area had battery operated radios, mostly old-timers, and some had actually gotten into their cars to listen to the radio.

Bree stood to the side and played with her hair, twirling a strand around one finger. It was a nervous gesture she hadn't done since her parents' death. Carmen was willing to be outside among people for the first time, out of the four of them she'd been the most upset and nervous.

Cedes moved to stand close to Bree and hooked her arm around her cousin's waist. Bree gave her a small smile—a strained one, but still a smile.

They all seemed to be holding their breaths, though Cedes didn't expect to hear anything of great importance this morning. It was just that—they needed this contact with the world outside of them. They'd felt so isolated, cut off from all news, from friends and family who weren't close by. It was a subtle, ongoing strain that they had never expected to face and hadn't been able to prepare for.

The station signed on. "This is Arthur Abrams, reporting." Cedes recognized the name. The tone of the announcer's voice was telling; he was a man who normally greeted his audience with humor and a devil-may-care attitude, but was somber as he reported. "The governor has sent messengers to report that the Tennessee National Guard is working to keep the capitol building in Nashville secure, but everyone is suffering from fuel shortages. There are unconfirmed rumors of widespread looting and several shooting deaths. Emergency services are unable to respond, so everyone is urged to conserve their resources." His voice shook a little, then he cleared his throat and recovered. "All supermarkets here are empty, but Knoxville residents are so far weathering this crisis. Continue to check on your neighbors, and be careful out there. The next update will be at nine a.m. tomorrow."

Carmen said, "I wonder if all the college kids were able to get home safely."

"I hope so," Mike replied. "I don't imagine the town could handle the care and feeding of thirty thousand kids. Surely the university as soon as they heard had students take flights and drive home as soon as it was announced."

The brief news, although not heartwarming and encouraging, was enough to give them some sort of contact with the outside world. Just hearing the broadcast was comforting. Some technology still worked, at least for now.

The next morning, the crowd in Roz's yard was even bigger. Cedes had walked over just after dawn, and she was startled when she looked out the window. "You got to get a bigger yard," she told her aunt.

Roz looked out, too, her eyes widening at the milling crowd. "Lord have mercy. I guess we need to take this somewhere more wide-open."

The time was approaching, so she took the radio out and set it on the card table. They had cranked and cranked and cranked, to give the battery a good charge. Maybe today's broadcast would be longer, have more information.

"This is Arthur Abrams, reporting. There was widespread looting in several Knoxville neighborhoods last night, with reports of people coming into the city from other locales, following the interstate highways. The KPD has performed heroic work during the night, quelling the looting, and for now all is quiet. The hospitals are not accepting critical cases, as dwindling supplies have to be carefully managed so as to provide care for the maximum number of residents." He gave the locations of the shelters that were open, as well as the times and places for food and water distribution, along with the warning that "Armed police officers will be ensuring order." He signed off with a reminder of the next update.

"I'm glad we live here." Someone said knowing it was better than being in a larger city. Knowing that in cities without farms, rivers to fish in, and game to hunt in the woods, that food would be scarce, causing even the most pious people to loot and steal for food and gasoline.

Cedes suspected there were similar reports being made around the country, in places that were lucky enough to have access to radio.

So far they were doing okay. The last few days had been stressful and strange, but not too difficult. There was no television, no phone calls, no access to the world outside this valley. There was no reason to go to her store, so she didn't bother. At this point, anyway, there was plenty of food to go around.

The handful of gardens along the street were now being tended by more than one hand, as neighbors pitched in to help, hoping to extend the life of the vegetables. The one greenhouse in the neighborhood was being converted from growing illegal marijuana to growing vegetables they'd need in the coming months. They were working, and working together. Things had been peaceful, and the weather was still good. But during the coming months . . . who knew how people would react, would the violence and theft become a problem here in Cosby?

It was frightening to realize that the grid would be down that long, but Cedes had no reason to think otherwise. The world had gone dark, and Sam had said getting the grid back up would take months, if not years. They had to face that, and prepare as best they could.

Carmen had tears in her eyes, and so did Bree. They weren't caused by sadness, Cedes suspected, but were tears of absolute fear. Knoxville wasn't all that far away, and what had happened there and in other cities wasn't going to get better. What if those people came to them looking for food?

Roz, noticing the glazed looks of people, decided to send everyone home, "The PSA is over, let's get back to work. Tomorrow I'll set this up in the big field, so more people can listen."

After listening to the radio, she, Roz, and Carmen planned to spend part of the day working on quilts in preparation for winter. Bree and a friend from down the street were helping an older couple with their garden. The girls were lost without their phones, and the physical activity did them good. Cedes had even caught Bree reading a time or two, and she had also joined in with the quilting—for a short while. She didn't have the patience for the craft. Cedes battled her own impatience, because she knew the chore needed doing.

Quilting also gave Cedes time to think of Sam Evans. Did he have enough covers to keep him warm? As soon as the thought ran through her mind she scolded herself. Of course he did. Of all the people here, he would be the most prepared for whatever happened. He was fine. No looter would dare to bother him, and if they did, well, too bad for that looter. But just because he was prepared didn't mean he had everything. He had no neighbors to share or communicate with, no fresh-tomatoes-for-recently-thawed-chicken trades to make—not that she could imagine him talking or bartering with anyone. Still. Being totally alone wasn't good. What if he got hurt? Living as isolated as he did, no one would know if he was injured and needed help.

Though maybe he could perform field surgery on himself.

She wished she had reached out to him before, not that he'd ever given any indication of wanting her, or anyone else, to reach out to him. Why had she been so shy around him? Why hadn't she ever smiled and asked him how he was doing, those times when he'd come into her store? Likely he would have grunted a non-reply, but maybe . . . maybe he'd have talked to her a little. And maybe eventually they might have—

She was driving herself crazy with too many maybes. She couldn't change the past. The future, however, was something else. Seeing these missed opportunities was giving her a lot to think about. What a time to realize that maybe there was more to life than work, her aunt, and her young cousin. She'd been playing it safe, living in a self-isolating bubble of her own making.

The thing was, all bubbles were made for popping. And Sam Evans was worth the risk of popping the self-imposed bubble that she had been protecting herself in.