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  Maddeningly, it had been his reply to everything for as long as she’d known him, twenty-one wonderful years. They’d met when he moved in with his family across the street from her when she was fourteen. That very day she’d been told by her mother she’d never have children because of an accident when she was young, too young to remember.

  She’d raced from her mother in a disbelieving frenzy to curl into a ball at the base of her favorite tree in a deeply wooded area. Weeping her heart out and crying at the unfairness of life. She’d always had high hopes of a fulfilling career, many children to love and nurture; she wanted it all. Now who would she share her dreams with, who’d share their dreams with her?

  “Everything will be fine,” said a deep, calming voice; an awkward hand patted her shoulder. A warm, large body sat next to hers. She looked over and stared into beautiful blue eyes full of concern. The young man then draped an arm around her shoulders. His blond hair ruffled in the warm summer breeze. He offered her an enchanting smile.

  “How do you know?” she whispered, captivated. His hand reached for and clutched her hand, pulling her closer.

  “Because I’m here now,” he replied. His voice so full of sincerity and truth she’d believed him.

  Love at first sight was an astounding occurrence. It was as if life stood still in the uniqueness of the event. The two became inseparable afterwards, spending every spare moment together. Everything had been alright for a time and then turned frighteningly wrong. At sixteen, Tansy became the mother of a miracle. One she would’ve liked a little later in life, though thankfully her parents were ecstatic, thinking they’d never see a grandchild. Emmy, short for Emily May entered the world at six pounds even.

  Her proud father, Shane, barely eighteen, acted like he’d done all the hard work, floating through the hospital corridors handing out chocolate cigars to complete strangers with the caption; It’s a girl, written in pink.

  Tansy was overwhelmed. She was never supposed to have children. Yet here she was, this pink squalling mass of...poop, spit-up, and some smell Tansy couldn’t seem to put a finger to. Although Tansy was elated at having a child, she was so young.

  Tansy looked at the baby a bit fearfully; the baby gave her a direct stare in return.

  “Don’t think I can do this, do you?” No response. Well, what did she expect...an amusing anecdote? “I can do anything,” Tansy answered her own question as her child nursed, and moments later mother and child formed an unbreakable bond.

  Looking at Shane in the dim light of the living room while the gas fireplace flickered invitingly before them, Tansy smiled. Shane was right, they were home, they were all together, safe. It was all she needed. Shane turned off the disturbing images on the television, arose from the couch; they locked hands and walked upstairs.

  They went to the first door and peered in. They smiled at Emmy, back for a visit from University. She was sitting comfortably, writing an essay in her easy chair, with her laptop. She smiled at them, blew a fast kiss then became reabsorbed in her work. Just starting her second year she was home for Thanksgiving. On the honor roll and having earned a scholarship, she was a bright young woman on her way to a bright future.

  The next, recently-repaired, door opened to reveal a room so messy a pig would’ve been aghast at the sight. Sprawled sound asleep on her bed, Shanie was lying amidst a pile of dirty and clean clothes. A bag of half-eaten potato chips lay at her bare feet, curdled chocolate milk on a side table. She rolled over, muttered something about a boy with a nice ass and settled again on a soft sigh. Shane turned off her television and unplugged her video games for the night.

  Her parents offered each other supporting looks, closed the door and made their way to Michaela’s room. Their youngest daughter lay surrounded by a multitude of stuffed animals, picture books and the latest numerous toys on the market, her room full to bursting. Her angelic face peaceful in the soft moonlight bathing the room. Tansy reached out and smoothed back a long lock of sweet smelling, chestnut hair and placed a kiss on her sleeping baby’s brow. Shane did the same, then pulled her princess covers up under her chin, tucking her beloved rag doll in beside her.

  Neither adult noticed the subtle movement of the tree branches outside the darkened room window as they tapped at the house as if in warning. The last few leaves of fall drifted to the ground in a spiral motion, only to be picked up and captured by the wind, sailing into the moon’s illuminated sky.

  Smiling adoringly at his wife, Shane took her hand in his and embraced her. Keeping his wife pressed possessively to his side, the young couple made their way to their room and went to bed.

  Chapter 2

  “Mom, hey Mom,” Shanie yelled, running into the house, slamming the door on a gust of boisterous wind determined to make its way indoors.

  It was the last day before the Thanksgiving long weekend. It was shortly after lunch. Tansy stood sorting socks at the kitchen table, she loathed this job. She looked at them in disgust. It appeared the proverbial sock fairy was at it again, too many without matches. She groaned. She didn’t have time for this; she was supposed to be writing out a quarterly review that was already past due. As it was, she was running late her wrist automatically twisting to reveal the time indicated on her watch. The turkey was in the oven cooking early and would need basting; she’d just have to freeze it for later. If she could keep Shane out of it, she thought with fond annoyance.

  “Must you slam the door? And why are you home so early?”

  “Mom, really, you’re not going to hurt the socks’ feelings by scowling at them,” Shanie said.

  “I thought I could intimidate them into telling me where the other wayward truants are,” she replied, indicating the growing pile with a bit of frustration. “Speaking of truants...” Tansy gave her a direct stare, brows lifted with meaning.

  Shanie rolled her eyes then came directly to the point. “They closed the school.”

  “For Thanksgiving?” Tansy asked, shooting her a quizzical glance.

  “I think for good,” Shanie stated with a dramatic flair. Tansy’s hand stilled. She looked at her daughter waiting for a punchline. When none came, she gathered her thoughts and asked as calmly as she could, “What do you mean, you think for good?”

  Explaining on the way, Shanie took her mother’s hand leading her into the living room. “An announcement came over the PA, we were to head straight home, not bother with our lockers. Not to stop to talk to our friends, just go home. The principal said we weren’t to return for any reason. He told us to turn on the news channel the minute we got home and find our parents. At first we thought it was a bomb scare, but on the way home I saw people rushing around like crazy, there’re some creepy clouds in the sky.”

  Shanie grabbed the remote to click on the television and both watched as the scene unfolded. Words like; “Roads closed,” “State of emergency,” resounded throughout the room from a frantic anchorman, his plea to the public to seek shelter, help their neighbors, friends. Remain calm.

  Tansy perched on the edge of the couch. She watched devastated as half of Florida seemed to be covered in torrential water, hurricanes like never before battering the state from all sides mercilessly. At another flash through satellite, Mexico was gone—just gone, barren ocean where it once sat. Tips of buildings could barely be made out over rolling white-capped waves, a frightening testimony of what once was. Another flash and six tornadoes were battering Texas, another three bashing Missouri, hurling homes and property into oblivion.

  Unsure what the next flash from satellite was, the announcer assured them they were looking at Arizona, a massive ball of dust storm so intense those caught unaware perished from asphyxiation. Another flash, California seemed an inferno of billowing flames, rolling up lethally from the ground. Volcanic eruptions spewed instant death from Yellow Stone Park. Image after image assaulted them.

  Tansy could hear the newscaster’s harried voice ringing in her ears, battering her mind, urging everyone to seek shelt
er. Grab any survival kit they had stored and stay put. Do not venture outside.

  “Shane, Mike,” Tansy whimpered.

  She jumped from the couch and headed to the front door, grabbed her purse, spilling its contents onto a nearby table, snatching up her car keys.

  “No, it’s too dangerous,” Shanie cried out.

  At that moment, Shane stormed through the front door, his normal continence gone, his face ashen, a crying Michaela clutched in his arms. Tansy flew to them and reached for her daughter.

  “Shane.” Tansy clutched at his jacket panicking.

  “I know. It’s bedlam out there. I tried to call, but the phones aren’t working, my cell phone wouldn’t get reception. I had to leave the car in the middle of the highway; traffic’s backed up for miles. When I got to the preschool, Mike was crying off to the side alone; parents were racing, screaming for their kids. The teacher abandoned her class to get her own children. One woman stayed, thank heavens she doesn’t have a family or all the kids would’ve been left alone.

  “Christ, can you imagine an entire class of children three and under left unsupervised? Toddlers, infants abandoned. If the other teacher hadn’t sworn she’d stay, a few of us parents would’ve grabbed some of the children to bring home with us.

  “News of the storms is just hitting the airwaves; at least, what stations are left and not annihilated it happened so fast. Like a damned plague of locusts. They must’ve known; somebody had to have seen it coming. But we weren’t warned because of the fear of mass panic.

  “But that’s what we have now. People are terrified of the unknown; they’re racing for the stores to grab food and supplies. No one’s bothering to pay for anything; they’re just grabbing and running, the employees alongside them. Shopping carts, wagons, bags, all are filled and people are racing down the street with what they’ve stolen...in broad bloody daylight!

  “What police are left can’t control the volume of hysteria; a few were knocked to the ground for their weapons. Some of the police are using their weapons to steal alongside the civilians. Everyone is saying it’s as bad here as it was overseas. They haven’t guessed at the death toll, but states and provinces are missing. Missing, Tansy. How the hell do you lose an entire province or state?”

  “But how could they keep something like this from the public? We need time to find shelter; why did they wait so long? Why weren’t we informed weeks ago this was going to happen when we could’ve prepared ourselves?” Tansy cried out. Shane grabbed her hard, holding her closer; he looked her intently in the eyes.

  “Because there is no shelter, babe.”

  “What’re you saying, Daddy?” They turned to see Emmy standing on the stairs shaking. Shane released his wife and strode over to his eldest; he pulled her tiny frame close.

  “The borders are closed from the States. People are trying to flee to Canada but it won’t help; it’s just as bad here. Our people are fleeing to the States; no one knows where to go. The Garden City Skyway is on the verge of collapse; the Peace Bridge is gone, it collapsed while crowded. I heard someone say Niagara Falls is flooding from the volume of water pressure.” Shane gathered his entire family into his arms. “The storms are here; they didn’t lessen in intensity. Tornadoes are destroying anything on land. Hurricanes are raging in the oceans. Earthquakes are rocking California, British Columbia, Washington. There’s no rhyme or reason where they’re hitting; we’ve nowhere to run. The oceans and waterways are advancing on us in an army of typhoons.”

  Tansy shoved Michaela into Shane’s arms and fled to the kitchen. Her family followed, shocked into silence as she raced from here to there filling any container she could find with the water surging from both taps. She pulled the half-filled water bottle from the cooler, intending on filling it to the brim, and mentally noted there were two more full ones in the basement, and a stack of water bottles in the garage.

  “Tansy,” Shane began brokenly.

  “Hurry,” she yelled. “Before the water is contaminated. We need to get to the basement. Inland, we’re in more danger from the storms aboveground than below. We need to build a barricade; we need food, blankets and flashlights. Help me find the candles and batteries. We need warm clothing, blankets, towels, matches....” Her voice trailed off as she threw open cupboards and drawers. Hearing only silence behind her, she spun around. No one had moved. “We will not sit and wait to die. We’ll fight for every breath. Now move!”

  They sprang into action to raid the freezer and refrigerator of its contents including condiments, flour, sugar, salt and spices from the cupboards. Because it was the holiday, Tansy shopped early in light of the company coming, her neighbors. Always wanting to be one step ahead, for every step she seemed behind, her pantry was loaded with canned goods, treats for the children, a twenty pound sack of potatoes, a huge bag of carrots, fresh vegetables, hors d’oeuvres, the frozen remains of half a butchered cow and pig with frozen vegetables. Different types of loaves of bread lay in the freezer. It would all have to be moved.

  They grabbed pots, pans, blankets, a can opener, towels, dishcloths, soap, cups, dishes, utensils, matches, candles, newspaper and old flyers for fuel, garbage bags, shower curtains and picnic table coverings, plastic to aid against the wet weather approaching.

  To occupy her, Tansy sent Mike upstairs to her room for her rag doll and a few other toys and books.

  “Tansy, I’m going outside for the tarp off the boat. If the ceiling’s ripped off we may need it. Remember to grab what you can from the medicine cabinet, and the first-aid kit, and pull down those fire extinguishers. I’ll help drag down some mattresses and small pieces of furniture when I come back in, and don’t forget the hibachi, we haven’t used all the propane since camping last month, and the tent and camping supplies. We can set the tent up under the stairwell,” Shane yelled and dashed outside while Tansy and the girls began throwing supplies into any carry-on they found.

  They raced the items up and down the cement stairs. With intuition aiding her desperation, Tansy grabbed large rocks from inside the fish tank and the numerous special ones she had scattered about the house to build a circle in the basement. They’d need to contain the fire they’d have to start for warmth by defining an area. More were found outside. Once done she returned indoors with the backyard foremost in her mind. They might have time to gather the many sticks of autumn littering the backyard from windstorms she and the girls hadn’t had time to rake.

  * * * *

  Tansy heard a commotion from outside. Shane came crashing through the front door followed, on foot, by their neighbor, Sam Market. Sam was a robust, burly man of fifty-nine and a good friend, it was his family invited to their Thanksgiving dinner. Sam grabbed Shane by the arm, pulled him to his feet, hauling him back outside where yelling and screaming could be heard as though a large mass had gathered.

  Tansy stood for a moment too stunned to move, mouth agape, wondering what could be happening. She’d never seen Shane fight. Was Shane actually fighting? Emmy’s scream jarred her back into reality. Shanie had raced for the living room where a shattering of glass was heard. Tansy sprinted to her daughter, when reaching the living room there stood Shanie, her great-grandfather’s rifle held under one arm while she fumbled with a piece of jagged wood. When Emmy had been born, her great-grandfather had recently died and left the old rifle to Shane. Tansy hated weapons, not wanting it around her child. As a compromise, Shane placed it in a sealed glass case, the proverbial ship in a bottle. He couldn’t bear to part with something his granddad had loved.

  “Shanie, what on earth?” Tansy said.

  A snap sounded to reveal a secret door holding shells. Removing them, Shanie loaded one into the barrel, slid it into place, and then clutched the weapon. She turned to her mother, smiling triumphantly. “Bet you didn’t know about that.” She moved off toward the door.

  Shanie was unsuccessful at dodging past Tansy who grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Shanie, about to protest, had the weapon jerke
d from her hands. Tansy scooped up a frightened Michaela from the stairs and gave her to Emmy, passing a few of the toys the child had gathered to Shanie. She propelled Shanie in her sister’s direction.

  “Emmy, take your sisters and those other bags and go hide in the basement.”

  “But,” Shanie protested.

  “Go, now.”

  Leaving no room for argument, the girls headed for the basement as Tansy strode for the battered front door. Stepping through the open doorway holding the rifle, Tansy was horrified to see Shane, and Sam Market; they were fighting, with others she wasn’t sure she knew. Her eyes grew wide as Chris, Sam’s boisterous fifteen-year-old son, whacked a balding man on the head with what looked like Shanie’s tennis racket. And, oh my God, is that old Mrs. Mason on some man’s back? That’s it, it’s happened, I’m in the Twilight Zone.

  Without thinking how and why her front yard had turned into a war zone, Tansy raised the barrel of the gun into the air and fired. Next thing she knew she was on her ass, her shoulder aching like hell. What was that Shane said years ago about a kickback?

  Everyone stopped moving. Shane strode toward Tansy; he helped her up and took his weapon into his hands looking confidant.

  “Everyone needs to calm down,” Sam boomed. The disgruntled people milling about sectioned off into different groups, when Shane shifted his rifle pointedly at a certain belligerent few.

  “You got a basement. I need the tarp to protect my family,” a man yelled, trying to disengage old Mrs. Mason from his shirt collar.

  “It don’t belong to you, it’s ours. You’re a stinking thief,” Shanie shouted, appearing at her mother’s elbow.

  “Does not.” Her mother corrected her grammar out of habit, though still dazed from the shock of the blast. She absently rubbed at her sore butt.

  “That’s what I said,” Shanie replied. “So back off you scum-sucking dirt bag,” she howled at the man, her fist waving in enthusiasm.