Part 5 - May 20 Pine Ridge REsearch Center

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Carl had noticed a large fenced-in yard with goats as they rode into town. He and Sam took the horses back to that yard now. There was a small open-sided shed, and as they got closer, they heard goats bawling. There was plenty of room for the horses and the goats, and there was plenty of hay and a kind of all-purpose grain. They stripped the tack off the two horses, then gave each of them a portion of grain. Carl broke apart a whole bale of hay and spread it around the roomy, fenced-in corral.

“We’ll have to get back here as early as possible tomorrow,” Carl said, “but that should keep them until then.”

Once the animals were safely settled, Carl and Sam walked back to the fire station.

As Nancy turned the corner onto Hopkins Avenue, walking as fast as she could, she looked down the street and saw two girls hurrying away from the yellow house. Clinging to each other, sobbing, the girls started running directly toward Nancy as soon as they saw her. They threw themselves at her, clinging tightly, both sobbing inconsolably. Nancy leaned down and gently shushed the distraught girls.

As their hysterical sobbing slowed, Nancy was finally able to ask what had happened. The girls told her how Shelby insisted this was all some stupid joke—some kind of stupid fire drill—and they were going to Shelby’s house to tell her mom. But when they arrived, Shelby’s mother was lying on the laundry room floor, frozen. Shelby had gone into hysterics trying to wake her mom up, but her mom would not move or talk.

Kaelyn sobbed. “My parents are like that too, aren’t they?” She looked up into Nancy’s face.

“I’m afraid that most adults are like that,” Nancy replied. “Look at me—I’m the only teacher in the entire school who was not affected. I’m not positively sure why I’m not like everyone else. But until this stops, or we figure something out, I just have to deal with it—we all have to deal with it—and I need everyone to help me.” Nancy took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Alright, girls,” she said in her kindest tone, “I want you to go straight back to the fire station with the others. I do not want you to say anything to the others about this just yet. Are we agreed?”

Nancy looked both girls in the eye, and they nodded and sniffed. “We have to stay together,” she stated carefully and firmly, hugging the girls to her. “Do you understand?”

The girls sniffled and nodded. Nancy released them from the group hug. “This is not a joke, girls—I wish it was—but it is not a joke. This is really happening.” She felt the tears threatening to fill her eyes again. “Hey!” she said, leaning back so the girls could see the tears in her eyes. “If you don’t stop crying, you’ll get me started. Then we’ll be standing here in the middle of the street having a big bawl fest.”

Nancy gave a fake smile, and the girls weakly grinned back. “Alright, go back and stay put. I’ll go get Shelby.”

“Is Shelby in trouble?” the other girl asked softly.

Nancy looked at them. “No, she’s not in any more trouble than we all are right now. Chewing Shelby out for wanting to make sure her mother was alright is not going to make anything better.” She looked down the street. “Go on now—get back and help the others take care of the little children.”

At that, Nancy turned and hurried toward the yellow house.

The front door of Shelby’s home was open. Nancy walked through it to stand in the living room. “Shelby,” she called gently, “it’s Mrs. Jackson, dear. Where are you?”

Nancy listened and heard sobbing coming from the back of the house. She followed the sound and found Shelby sitting on the floor of the laundry room near the back door with her mother’s head in her lap.

Nancy knelt down to look into the devastated child’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Shelby,” she said gently.

“I told her she was a bitch before I left this morning,” the girl wailed. “I wanted to go to a party with my friends, but she said I had to go to this stupid family thing, so I got mad, and as I ran out the door, I called her a bitch!” She broke down sobbing again.

Nancy took the child in her arms and rocked her gently while she continued to sob. “Shelby, I’m sure that your mother knew you were just mad and that you truly love her. We all get mad and say things we don’t mean. But right now, we all have to stay together if we are going to find out what is going on and what we can do to fix this.”

Nancy paused. “What do you think?” She waited for the girl to absorb what she’d said.

“I can’t leave my mom,” she sobbed.

“What would your mom want you to do?” Nancy asked. “Would she want you to sit here all alone, or be with others and safe?”

Shelby looked up at her. “How do you know we’ll be safe? What makes us safer with you than at home?” she asked seriously, with no childish contempt.

“Well,” Nancy said, “first, no one should be alone—being alone is never safe. What if you need help? Second, we stand a better chance of finding some solutions together. Third—and I hate to say this—but right now, we can’t help your mother.”

She looked Shelby in the eye as she said this, watching for the girl’s reaction.

“I won’t leave her like this,” Shelby sobbed.

“I wouldn’t want to leave my mother like this either. Why don’t we move her somewhere more comfortable, alright?” Nancy suggested.

Shelby nodded. “Would you help me move her to the couch, please?”

Nancy nodded with a wan smile, and together they picked Shelby’s mother up and as gently as possible moved her to the living room couch.

“I want to leave her a note, so when she wakes up she’ll know where I am and…” she sobbed, “…that I love her,” Shelby said.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Nancy told her. “You go get something to write on, and I’ll go get a blanket.”

The girl nodded. “Where can I find a blanket?” Nancy asked.

Shelby told her where her mother kept them. Nancy slowly went to find one in the hall closet, giving the girl a few moments of privacy to write her note.

When she returned, they covered Shelby’s mother. The girl kissed her mom and stood up to leave. Nancy put her arm around the grief-stricken child as they silently left the house.

When Nancy and Shelby returned to the fire station, Tim motioned Nancy away from the children and asked if he could go check his home.

Nancy nodded to the boy. “Yes, just don’t advertise to the other children where you’re going. I can’t deal with all of them wanting to go off in a hundred different directions. If anyone asks, you’re going to get supplies for the baby.”

Tim nodded and turned to go, but Nancy stopped him and added, “Tim, take two of the older boys with you.”

Tim nodded again as he walked away. He called Larry and Jeff, and the three boys took off at a jog up the street toward his home.

Nancy watched for the man and woman to return from the direction they had ridden off to on the horses. She wasn’t sure if this was going to be a good idea—she wanted to believe these were good people—but today had turned into a nightmare. In all her years as a teacher, she had never conceived she would have to deal with anything like this.

She walked around, checking in with each child. She offered words of encouragement where she saw sadness or fear on little faces, and she praised those who were helping and supporting the youngest. She made sure the children could see her ready to offer support.

It seemed a long time had passed before AJ pointed up the street toward the two adults returning.

As they approached, Nancy sized up the younger woman—mid- to late-twenties, lithe, athletic build, wearing that old beat-up cowboy hat pulled low, shading her blue eyes. The man’s age was harder to place—mid-fifties, maybe older—powerfully built with a distinguished, weathered look. Damn, he was still handsome; she’d bet he had been devastatingly good-looking when he was younger.

Carl spoke first, extending his hand. “Hello, miss. My name’s Carl Lowery, and my associate is Dr. Samantha Jorgensen, who you’ve already met. We were working up at the Pine Ridge Environmental Research Center when—whatever this is—happened.” He looked Nancy in the eye, calm. “I take it you worked at the elementary school?”

Nancy let out a deep breath she’d been holding and glanced at the nearest children. “Let’s step over here,” she said, walking to a spot where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I’m Mrs. Nancy Jackson, and yes, I’m a teacher at the elementary school. All these children except the baby came from the school. For whatever reason, the five- to twelve-year-olds don’t seem to be affected at all, but starting at age thirteen the number of affected kids goes way up. I searched the middle and high school buildings, and the only other student I found unaffected was the older boy, Tim, who you saw with me earlier.”

She found herself pouring out the day’s events to them, tension easing as she spoke. “I can only think one step at a time, and all I can think of right now is how and where to get these children fed, and where to put them to sleep for the night.”

Carl rubbed his hand across his chin and looked at the children—some milling around pensively, others half-heartedly playing. “Well,” he said, “how many did you say you have here?”

Nancy felt a flicker of hope. “About 180, most under thirteen, plus one baby in diapers.”

“Alright, here’s my suggestion,” Carl said. “The local university can house and feed large groups. They just started summer break, so the dorms are empty. That’s a place to bed them down. The food court is right beside the dorms, so we can feed everyone without too much difficulty. It’ll get us through the next couple of days and give us time to figure out our next step.”

Nancy felt relief—except, “How will we get all the children there? It’s over twenty-five miles to campus, and the net is down. Aren’t all vehicles net-controlled?”

Carl smiled. “You see that old fire bus?” He pointed to an open shed behind the station. “It was a school bus before everything went computerized. They kept it in service for canyon fires, where the net signal sometimes cuts out—you can’t have firefighters trapped in a bus that won’t start.”

“Can you drive it?” Nancy asked.

Carl grinned. “I drive it, and I keep it running.”

Sam smirked. “That’s our Carl—Mr. Fix-It.”

“It’ll take at least two trips,” Carl said. “You go first with the older boy. I’ll drop you off in front of the food court and point out the dorms. You should find at least one fast-food place open and get set up. I’ll come back for the second load, and we’ll get everyone fed and bedded down.”

As Carl laid out his plan, Nancy realized her muscles were unclenching for the first time that day. Including himself and Sam as caretakers for the children nearly made her knees give out in relief. She drew in a ragged breath. Finally. Tim and I are not alone anymore.

Sam glanced at the bus. “What about the horses?”

Carl shrugged. “We’ll get a stock trailer in the morning and bring them to the agricultural college—they’ll love it there.”

Just then Jeff jogged toward them, visibly shaken. Nancy excused herself and met him halfway. “What’s wrong, Jeff?”

“We found Tim’s parents—they were frozen like everyone else. They were in the backyard fixing up a surprise for him—a used car for graduation. We put them in their bed, and Tim locked up. He was crying, Mrs. Jackson. We didn’t know what to say, so we just walked back.”

“It’s alright, Jeff. There wasn’t anything you could say.”

“Everyone is like that, aren’t they?” he asked quietly.

Nancy put an arm around his shoulders. “I’m afraid so. Stay with Larry—I’ll check on Tim.”

She was about to go to him when Carl touched her shoulder. “Let me talk to the boy. He might need a male shoulder right now.”

Nancy looked into Carl’s eyes—gentle, despite his size—and nodded. She watched as he put an arm around Tim, speaking quietly.

Sam came to stand beside her. “Carl’s one of the most compassionate people I know. If anyone knows what to say right now, it’s him.”

Nancy studied Sam’s face and decided this was someone she could trust. “How long have you known him?”

“Since my junior year. I’ve learned as much from Carl as from all my professors,” Sam said.

“What did he do at the university?”

Sam laughed. “If it lives in a barn, runs on fossil fuels, or was built by human hands, Carl can fix it, run it, milk it, shear it, or show you how. He’s a walking encyclopedia on outdated technology and farm biology. Most importantly, he’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You can count on him.”

Nancy nodded. “When I first saw you two, I wasn’t sure I could trust you. I felt very vulnerable. I’m grateful you came along.”

“Carl will be great with the kids. I’m the one who can’t stand them. Whenever I do school presentations about my research, I can’t wait to leave. Sorry—but screaming, grabbing kids aren’t my thing,” Sam admitted.

Nancy raised her eyebrows. “What schools have you visited?”

“Mostly urban schools, showing live specimens and explaining why it’s important to save animals and habitats. I had a kid try to grab one of my birds once. Stuck his tongue out at me while the teacher dragged him away. I don’t know how you do it. I dread staying here alone while you go with Carl—but I’ll do my best.”

Nancy smiled faintly. “The children who push to the front are usually the more aggressive ones. I think you’ll find these children are different. I’ll leave you the more helpful ones and take any troublemakers with me.”

“They’ve been very well behaved,” Sam admitted. “They know something big has happened—they’re scared. Carl’s idea will probably work out for the best.”

A sudden roar from the old bus’s diesel engine startled them both. A thick cloud of exhaust poured from the garage. Tim sat in the driver’s seat while Carl shut the hood.

As the bus pulled out, Nancy began deciding who would go on the first trip. “I’ll take as many of the youngest as I can, and those who need close watching. Tim’s great, but he just came back from his own home.” She looked at Sam. “His parents were home when this thing hit.”

Sam nodded. “Poor kid… poor kids. I’ll do my best, Nancy. Just remember—I’m no Mary Poppins. More like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“You’ll do fine. Just treat them like anyone else.”

“I usually deal with people by going as far up into the forest and mountains as I can,” Sam said.

Too tired to reply, Nancy called the children to line up. She had the kindergarteners sit near the front, leaving the two front seats for the girls caring for the baby. “How many can fit?” she asked Carl.

“By old standards, eighty-one. We may have some sit on the floor to get everyone there in two trips,” he said.

Nancy loaded the first- and second-graders, then placed older siblings on the floor near younger ones. She crammed in as many third-graders as possible, leaving mostly older children with Sam. Then she and Tim boarded.

Carl leaned toward Sam from the driver’s seat. “About thirty minutes there. I’ll be back as soon as I can, depending on the roads.”

Sam realized her gut tension came from the fear Carl might not return. His reassurance let her relax. “Thanks, Carl. Don’t stick me here too long—I’ll go nuts.”

She stood watching as the bus disappeared around the corner. The sound faded, leaving only the breathing and shuffling of the children.

Looking at their faces—quiet, fearful, sad—Sam thought of her own mother’s death two years ago. These kids might not know it yet, but they had probably just lost their parents too. She didn’t delude herself: if things didn’t change soon, the frozen would die within days, leaving no one for these children to go home to.

Sam felt an overwhelming sympathy as she scanned the group, meeting each gaze.