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burning, killing and stealing all in their path. They said Dan Frost was doing okay at the meeting the other
night, but to not ask would be impolite.
"He's doing well," said the policeman. "Thanks for asking, sir."
Millie came rolling out of the garden on her little electric cart. The cart was very low to the ground; John
had built it that way. It moved quietly towards the house. At the side of the house there was a short ramp
that went up about eighteen inches and leveled out, ending in a handrail. Next to the handrail was a small
box with a cord coming out of it. The ramp and the railing were attached to the house. Millie piloted the
little cart alongside the house and up the small ramp, her back to the house and her feet progressively
getting higher from the ground. When the ramp leveled out, it was exactly the right height for Millie to
slide out of the seat and stand up, supporting herself on the railing. Steadying herself for a moment, she
reached around and plugged the battery charger into the cart. Then she began to walk towards them,
wheezing slightly. The ramp was something John was proud of. It made it easier for her to sit down and
get up from the low cart.
"That's very nifty," said Maureen. She sounded like she meant it. "Did you build that?"
"Yes. The ramp and the cart. Cart came first." He smiled. "Not the horse."
Maureen paused a moment, like she wasn't sure what to say. Then it dawned. "Oh, cart before the
horse. I get it." She laughed, a real spot of laughter, that was clearly different than her earlier smile. "I
didn't quite expect that," she said, still smiling. Officer Onofrio gave a small smile, too; he had heard the
joke before. He had been out here on two separate ambulance runs that had taken Millie to the hospital a
few miles away.
"May we go inside and talk?" asked Maureen. She gave a quick glance to Onofrio, who nodded slightly
in the affirmative. "Do you want to wait out here, Officer?"
"That would be fine, ma'am," replied Onofrio.
* * *
As the three of them eased into the vinyl kitchen chairs with a cup of coffee, Maureen saw the neat
kitchen, the white plastic basket on the middle of the table with medications, and the worn table. It
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reminded her of her parents, years ago. The details were different, but the feeling was the same, they
were living out the last years as best they could. This was going to be hard. "Well," Maureen said, letting
her smile return, the one that made both John and Millie look at her with suspicion, "I suppose you're
wondering why I'm here?"
"Not really" said Millie, cutting into the flow of where Maureen was going. "You want us to move out of
here, don't you? Too dangerous, or too far from town? For our own good?" Millie was smiling,
comfortable, and just a bit argumentative.
Maureen stopped for a moment and blinked a bit. She finally sighed, resigned. "You're right, Mrs.
Trapanese. We think it's too dangerous."
"Who's we?" John asked, flatly.
"Well, we're organizing as best we can, and trying to think of everything that might happen. You know
Dennis, Jr., my husband is a was a police officer over in Clarksburg?" They nodded. "Well, he's helping
out as best he can, and so am I."
"How are you helping?" asked John.
"I've some experience in social work, and I just thought I could help him and the police force out. This is
a good way to help. I've some help watching the kids. You wouldn't believe how this has brought the
town together. Everyone is looking for something to do to help. Kind like after the tornado a few years
back in Clarksburg. Everyone just stepped up, and did a job, no complaining. This is one of those times."
"There's not much we can do," said Millie.
"You can help us by moving into town," replied Maureen.
"Why is that a help?"
"Basically, this is not a defensible position we can't defend this part of the road easily. You are not safe
here. In town you'd be a lot safer, closer to help. And we don't have to spend the effort to keep you safe
all the way out here. We're stretched way too thin as it is." She sat back in her chair. "It's not safe out
here on your own."
"Have you had any more incidents since Dan Frost was shot on the first day?" John asked.
"No, just some refugees coming in. Mostly on the other side of town, but a few from this way. They say
that the main army has been moving off, away from us."
"Well, Miss Grady," John continued, "I don't think we're in any real danger out here. The barn and yard
are well lit, and the phone is working again."
Maureen was getting a little impatient. "What are you going to do for supplies? And how are you going
to get to town? What about groceries? Have you thought these things through, Mr. Trapanese? Mrs.
Trapanese? Our response time out here will be significant. And out here at the edge of the Ring of Fire,
you're the most vulnerable to outsiders. Do you understand how serious this is?"
"Of course, I don't understand young lady," Millie harrumphed. "Who can understand this nonsense?
The sun is in the wrong spot, the moon is in the wrong spot. How can anyone understand this?"
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"Mrs. Trapanese," Maureen began, "may I call you Millie?" Millie gave her a nod and an additional
harrumph, just a bit disdainfully. "Thank you, Millie," she continued. "You're right. Nobody really
understands what's happening. It may be that in a few weeks it will sink in. Right now we're just dealing
with the reality that we have. And that reality is that this is now a much more dangerous place. It may
look the same, but it's not the same. And we don't think it ever will be the same." She paused. "I know
you don't want to give up your home, but why don't you come into town? It will be better for you in the
long run."
John and Millie exchanged glances across the table. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Millie spoke.
"I don't give a shit about the long run."
Maureen blinked again. She started to open her mouth to protest and stopped. She looked at the basket
on the middle of the table, and back to Millie and John, who returned her gaze.
"I don't," continued Millie after a time. "Please don't take offence, Maureen. It's just that it's a little too
much for us old folks to take in."
"But Millie, you shouldn't think like that," said Maureen. Maureen didn't believe her own argument.
"Then how should I think, Maureen? Should I pretend that the Walgreen's is still in Wheeling?" Millie
kept her voice measured, calm, and strong and met Maureen's gaze full on. "I've a few weeks supply of
medications, and I know what to do to make them last. Been doing that for years. Too expensive
otherwise."
John leaned forward, placed his hand on Millie's, and said, "We're not moving into town. It's not safe
there, either, so far as I can tell. The difference between here and down there isn't very much. I don't
think it really matters all that much where we live." He too looked at Maureen, with kindness, but also
with determination. "And if you're wondering, yes, I do have some weapons here. We met in Greece
when I was serving with an Army transport unit right after the war. I should be able to defend us against
whatever bad guys are lurking in the shadows. Not that I think it's necessary."
* * *
Maureen and Officer Onofrio drove back to the police station in silence. The V8 drone of the cruiser
was the only background noise, along with a couple of squelch tails on the two-way. After a couple of
miles, Onofrio spoke up. "I don't know if I'd do anything different, Maureen. I mean, that is where they
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