The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) (22 page)

“It’s still going to be a rough drive even
with the four wheel drive, so you be careful,” Marty said. “Since
you’re still open, can I get a few things to take home to Marion?
We may all be in for a few days.”

“Of course, let me get a box for you.”

While Marty loaded the box with food, Trevor
lowered and locked the security gates. He emptied the register into
the pouch, and started turning off lights, just as the lights
flickered.

“Looks like we might lose power too,” Marty
said, noticing the fluctuation. “This is already the worst ice
storm I’ve seen here. How much do I owe you?”

“I’ll just put it on your tab, my friend. I
need to get home and so do you.”

After scraping the ice off the windshield and
letting the rear defroster work on the back, Trevor carefully
pulled out of the side street, and felt the on-demand four wheel
drive kick in as soon as he made contact with the slippery
street.

***

The lights flickered in the house and then
went out. Holly found Christine in the bathroom looking for
aspirin, and leaned against her so she knew the dog was there. A
pat on the head reassured both of them. With the house in total
darkness, Christine headed for the bedroom where she knew there was
a flashlight, Holly by her side. When she tried to turn into the
room, Holly nudged her a bit further. She realized she had almost
walked into the door jamb, and gave the dog another pat.

“You’re such a good girl,” Christine said to
the dog and with the flashlight firmly in her right hand and still
cradling her left, made her way back to the dark kitchen and the
door that led to the basement. She descended the stairs slowly, not
being able to hold on to the railing. “I sure hope Trevor put those
lanterns back on the shelf. Maybe next time I should do it so I
know where they are.” She found talking aloud to the dog
comforting.

The lantern was on the bottom shelf, where
she thought it would be, and she sighed with relief. The light it
gave off was weak and barely lit a small area.

“The batteries must need changing, Holly. I
know there are more upstairs in a drawer.” Still talking to the
dog, Christine put the lantern handle over her good arm and used
the flashlight beam to take them back up the stairs.

She found the new batteries without
difficulty, but removing them from the package proved to be
challenging one handed. Even using the scissors to cut the plastic
cover wasn’t easy with the package sliding around on the counter.
Tears of frustration built up in her blue eyes. Christine set it
aside to remove the bottom of the lantern. After struggling with
it, the flap finally came off and she replaced the spent batteries.
Light flooded the kitchen.

“Okay, Holly, what else should we be doing
while we wait for Trevor?” Christine asked her dog. Holly wagged
her tail then sat by her feed dish. “Hungry are you?” She laughed
and dropped a scoop of dry feed into her dish, spotting the nearly
empty water bowl. As she filled it from the tap, she recalled what
else Trevor had done when the tornado was approaching.

Christine took the lantern out to the cold
garage to find the water buckets. She set one in the bathtub and
let the water run. While the bucket and the tub were filling, she
filled the two juice pitchers with water and left them on the
kitchen counter. When the second bucket was full, she set one in
each of the two bathrooms for flushing. With the tub full of clean
water, flush buckets ready, and drinking water available, she sat
down with the couch blanket in the living room to wait, Holly at
her feet.

***

Trevor slowly drove around an accident, the
empty vehicles left in the center of the intersection. When the SUV
skidded, he took his foot off the gas to slow the car and regain
control. Working in Alaska had its benefits; he’d learned how to
drive in snow and on ice.

He made a wide turn onto the next street and
was stopped by a tree blocking the road. Sparks were crackling from
the power lines the heavy ice-laden branches had brought down.
Trevor rolled to a stop and then backed up even slower. The next
street over was clear of trees, however, there were two cars parked
haphazardly. It would have been a squeaker on dry pavement,
impossible on ice. He passed that street and tried the next one,
the rain coming down even harder.

“Crap, it’s getting hard to see!” he
muttered. Even with the defrosters going at maximum and the wipers
working hard, the ice was building up and he had only a six inch
hole to see out of. He looked around and, not seeing any headlights
in any direction, he stopped in the middle of the road. The icy
wind blasted his face when he stepped out of the car with the ice
scraper. Struggling to stay upright on the slippery road, Trevor
cleared most of the thick ice off the windshield, hoping he didn’t
have to do it again before he got home. He shivered, melting ice
trickling down his neck.

Trevor turned onto their street a half hour
later. He breathed a sigh of relief even as he drove around more
branches and a tree hanging low, just barely making it under the
icy limbs.

He spotted their house and a glow in the
front window. As he approached the driveway, he slowed even more
and turned the four wheel drive SUV up the gentle slope, seeing the
garage door open.

“Thank you, Christine! You’re learning well.”
He pulled straight into the shelter, got out, manually pulled the
overhead door down, and secured it. Trevor was relieved to see the
PT Cruiser safely in its spot.

“Christine, I’m home!” he called out, letting
himself into the house from the garage. He stumbled over the boxes
of food on the floor and wondered why she had left them there and
not on the table.

When she heard him calling her, Christine
tossed off the blanket and grabbed the lantern, bumping her arm in
her haste. She groaned and Holly whimpered.

They met in the hallway and Trevor hugged
her, causing her to cry out.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I fell on the ice and hurt my arm. I’m so
glad you’re home, I was really worried… and scared.” She leaned her
head against his chest.

“How bad is your arm?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t taken my jacket off
yet to look, but it sure hurts. And I’m still cold from the
drive.”

Trevor took the lantern and set it on the
kitchen table. “Sit here. I’m going to find the other lantern so we
have more light, then I’ll start a fire in the fireplace.” He took
the flashlight and hurried down the stairs. Finding what he wanted,
he stepped into the garage to fill the other lantern with
kerosene.

“That’s really bright, Trev. I didn’t know we
had that one.”

“I saw it the last time, but since it takes
fuel not batteries, I thought it best to not use it in the
basement. It will also add some heat. I’ll be right back.” He took
the smaller lantern to the living room to start a fire.

“Okay, let’s look at your arm now,” he said
when he returned. “We do have to take your jacket off though.” He
pulled the right sleeve down over her hand while she pulled that
arm up. He spotted blood on the other sleeve and knew it wasn’t a
good sign. “This might hurt. Are you ready?” When she closed her
eyes and nodded, he pulled the sleeve down as quickly, yet as
gently as he could.

She cried out in pain as the bloody sleeve of
her shirt was exposed.

“Christine, look at me. No, not at your arm –
at
me
. Okay, that’s good.” He kissed her nose. “I don’t
believe in shading the truth, so I’m going to tell you that your
sleeve is bloody. We won’t know how bad it is until I can see all
of it. I hope you’re not too attached to that blouse, because I’m
going to cut part of it off,” he said lightly, making her
smile.

“Just do it, Trevor. I can’t feel any
worse.”

He retrieved the scissors she had left on the
counter and began snipping away the sleeve from the elbow down.

“Hey, I can always have this as a short
sleeved shirt,” she joked with a wince.

“That’s my girl.”

Once the fabric was removed, Trevor could see
the long gash. “Okay, I see a cut, but no bones poking through the
skin. That’s a good sign, Christine, a very good sign.”

“How could I have a cut without having ripped
the jacket?”

“I don’t remember what it’s called, but if
there is enough pressure on the skin during an impact, it can cause
the skin to split even though it was padded. Can I wash some of the
blood away for a better look?” Christine nodded and they went to
the sink where Trevor ran some warm water and splashed it on her
arm to remove the drying blood.

“Hand me that towel,” Christine said. She wet
the towel and wiped her arm with enough pressure to remove the
blood. She held her breath as she worked. When she was done, she
let out that breath with a gush. “Damn, that hurt!”

Trevor smiled down at her. “You’re something
else! Now let’s sit again by the light.” Trevor took the wet towel
and a dry one as they sat, and he dabbed away the oozing blood
until it stopped. “This doesn’t look too bad. I’m going to get the
first aid kit.” He left the room, put another log on the fire, and
then returned with some bandages.

“At least you don’t have to clean out the
wound,” Christine said. “My dad had to do that once when I fell
roller skating. I landed on my knees in a mud puddle, scraping them
pretty bad. Now
that
hurt.”

Trevor wrapped some gauze around her arm
after placing a few gauze pads on the open wound. Then he produced
a ruler and an ace bandage. “Before you even ask, the ruler will
act like a splint, just in case there is a fracture, and the ace
will hold it in place.”

“You’re handy to have around,” Christine
said, grinning at him.

“I want to thank you for leaving the garage
open so I could pull right in,” Trevor replied. “That was really
smart. Now let’s sit by the fire and keep warm.”

***

Chief Martin Mallory parked his squad car in
front of his house, and let out a breath of relief. He clipped his
radio to his belt, zipped up his jacket, and stepped out of the
car, immediately slipping and going down on one knee, saved by
still having hold of the door handle. Standing, he inched his way
to the trunk and removed the box of groceries, thinking what a good
friend Trevor had become.

Thankful he had a short front lawn, he
stepped hard, breaking the thin ice to get some traction on the
brown grass. Slowly he made it to the front porch and set the box
down, gripping the hand railing to steady himself on the single
step. The overhead awning had offered little protection from the
continuing onslaught of icy pellets. The front door opened.

“Oh, Marty, I’m so glad you’re home!” Marion
said. “I’ve been listening to the weather and the alerts. It’s
really bad and they say it’s going to get worse.” She opened the
door wider as her husband shoved the grocery box with his foot. She
knelt down to pick it up at the same time he did, and they bumped
heads. They both laughed and she brought the box inside.

“I’m surprised we still have power,” Marty
said, taking the box from her and setting it in the kitchen.

“The TV alerts have said that most of the
city is out, about thirty-five thousand. I guess we’re the lucky
ones,” she replied. “Is it real bad out there?”

“Yeah, it is. The good news is that what
accidents there are should be all there is. Most everyone can’t
even get to their cars now. Considering even
I
can’t get
around, maybe the town council will see fit to let me have a set of
studded tires!”

“Who is at the station?”

“I sent everyone home an hour ago. The 911
dispatcher is handling what calls come in, and will call on my
radio if there is anything I need to handle personally,” Marty
answered. “In a way, this is good, keeping everyone off the
streets. Before I left, I had a call from John Diego in
Indianapolis. They were hit first with this power outage and
looters have taken advantage of it. He thinks us smaller cities may
be next. I don’t know what there is left to loot, but it isn’t
much.”

Ice pellets continued
raining down throughout the night, coating the already treacherous
roads and walkways with an inch of ice, turning to a rare snowfall
by morning. At noon, the system that created the havoc moved on and
eventually dissipated when it merged with the warmer air coming up
from the Gulf.

The snow and ice melted slowly over the next
forty-eight hours when the air temperatures returned to a normal
sixty degrees, leaving behind muddy roads, slushy yards, and
hundreds of broken trees blocking the streets. Repair crews,
unaccustomed to working in the icy conditions, were slow to get to
the downed powerlines, and salt trucks common in the northern
states were non-existent. Volunteers armed with chainsaws and
trucks aided where they could and cleared main thoroughfares in
record time. Side roads and residential areas took longer.

***

“I hear chainsaws!” Trevor said to a sick
Christine, who pushed away her tea.

“Is that good?”

“Yes. It means someone is clearing the downed
trees, which means I’ll be able to get you to the hospital,” he
answered. Trevor had been worried ever since Christine woke with a
fever yesterday. It had been three days since the ice storm and
although the ice was starting to melt, the number of trees that had
been brought down was overwhelming the work crews. “I’m going out
to see where they’re working.”

Christine nodded and lay down on the couch.
Her arm ached furiously all the way down to her fingertips and now
her head did too. Trevor had changed the bandage every day and said
there were no visible signs of infection, though there could still
be something going on deep in her arm. They had over the counter
painkillers but no antibiotics. The ice was too treacherous to
drive on, and there was nothing close enough to walk to. She felt
miserable.