Tales of the Derry Plague by Anselmo, Ray (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

–full name, age, family, some more of yer background. With all the systems gone down, we’re trying to rebuild a record of everyone here, so we can make sure everyone and everything’s taken care of. And find something for everyone to do. Ye managed a grocery store, so if ye wanted we could use ye in Refrigeration, or in Food Distribution or Dehydration – ye mentioned ye did some of that where ye were.”

“Yes, I did. But how are you managing refrigeration without elec … no, let me back up. Did you say you kept the power on? I lost mine in August.”

“We did, by the skin of our teeth. Dr. Bayo managed to find a couple of electricians, and they built a new grid around the local solar panel installations. Since then we’ve been hunting down more panels and growing the network. We don’t have much – just enough for refrigeration, emergency use and a few hours of light in the evenings – but we’re expanding capacity as fast as we can.”

“My word. And how do you pay for it?”

Eileen laughed and shrugged. “Mostly we don’t. I mean, we use pre-plague currency still, but right now we don’t have the structure to support a capitalist economy. Most of what’s going on now is closer to communism – with a lowercase C, ye understand. Drives some people batty … drives me batty on occasion. But it’s the easiest way right now to make sure everyone eats and everyone works.”

Kelly shook her head. “And here I was worried I’d be driving into The Road Warrior. It’s closer to Star Trek.”

“Ye’re not the only one who was expecting survival of the fittest. We’ve had a lot of self-styled survivalists come here and be very disappointed. But most of them adjust.” Eileen held up a clipboard. “Now, down to business. I should probably ask you one question before anything else. Are ye planning on staying here?”

Kelly was taken aback – she hadn’t really thought about what to do in this situation. It had never even occurred to her that it might be an option. “Well … I didn’t plan on it, no. I only packed for seven days, and this is day two. I didn’t know what I’d find, so …” She shrugged.

Eileen made a note. “Well, we can use everyone we can get. This was a city of 65,000 before and … well, even with people coming in from hither and yon, officially ye’re number #8,970, so we’ve got a lot of spots to fill. We certainly wouldn’t mind having ye, especially with yer experience …”

Kelly couldn’t believe her ears. They were more or less recruiting her to join the best place in the new civilization of Earth, or at least the best one she knew of. The only one she knew of. She should be jumping at the chance. Part of her was jumping.

Part of her was thinking about the life she’d made for herself the last two months – and in a way, the last few years since she moved to Sayler Beach to manage Ashcroft Store #17. She thought about watching movies at the farm and harvesting the vegetables. She thought of bathing and washing in the ocean. She thought of sitting at the breakfast table, journaling and planning her day. She thought of the doggos, and the kittens, and the horses. She thought of the ledger, and all the food she’d stored away.

She thought of home. Sayler Beach was more home to her than Stillwater or Berkeley had ever been. And after the last ten weeks, it was more so than ever.

Kelly looked at Eileen, one of the big shots here in Santa Cruz. And she decided honesty was the best policy. “What you’ve got here is terrific. I’d really like to be a part of it. But … I’d also really like to go home too. So I’m not sure what to do.”

26

HOME

In the end, Kelly got to do both. What made it possible were all those food stores – and more than that, the ledger.

It was a brilliant bright March day, and the recent rain clouds had cleared off to the east. The winter hadn’t been bad, but it had been colder than usual – the sudden elimination of most of the world’s people had caused a dramatic drop in greenhouse gases. The skies were clearer than they had been in a century, though, and the water purer, and the traffic far more manageable. For all that and more, she was prepared to deal with some shivering through January and February.

For most of the last five and a half months, she’d been in Santa Cruz, getting used to being around people again until she found her usual balance and spent time with them but not too much. Sgt. Sandra Galbraith, who couldn’t seem to get enough of her stories about how she’d made Sayler Beach livable for a population of one, had talked her into moving in with her. The Protective Service member had gotten a three-bedroom house on Cardiff Place, walking distance from the ERC, so there was plenty of room for them both. Too much for one, Sandra said.

But the second she mentioned the ledger, how she’d made notes on every house in town, her future had started moving onto another track. A lot of people had come from a lot of places to Santa Cruz – Monterey and Salinas and Castroville around the bay, King City and Soledad inland, Gilroy and Morgan Hill farther north, all the myriad cities of the South San Francisco Bay, the San Mateo Peninsula, even Marin County. The survivors in San Rafael and Tam Valley and Sausalito had left for Santa Cruz (and other destinations) before she got there.

But she was the one who’d stayed, because she didn’t know where else to go. And more to the point, she