Part 9 - May 20 The Campus Food Court

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Nancy stepped back as Carl shut the door. She was feeling completely drained; it had to be about 3:00 in the afternoon. They still had to find a place for the children to sleep tonight, and there was no guarantee that they would find food. She looked around the sidewalk and over the children, who were uncharacteristically quiet; they were all as emotionally drained and scared as she was. She motioned Tim to come over and said, “Well, here we go again. One of us has to go scout out the area before we take the children down. It’s your call. I’ll go scout out the building unless you really want to go.”

Tim smiled weakly and stated, “I’d rather go if you don’t mind. I don’t think I can deal with these little kids like this.” He motioned to the group. “They’re so sad and on the verge of crying, I just don’t think I can deal with that right now.”

Nancy nodded. “I know what you mean. For what it’s worth, I’m not dealing with this all that well myself. All right, you go and check it out—and be careful! I’ll hold down the fort.”

As Nancy watched the children, Tim went down the stairs into the darkness and out of her sight as the first set of auto-lights snapped on. She felt a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach—how many times would they be separated and be able to come back? She shook her head; she was so very tired, and there was still so much to do. What would she have done if that man and woman hadn’t shown up? She and Tim had been lucky on that count. She heard some sniffling and looked around for the child or children who were in distress. Nancy walked around the group, doing her best to comfort as many of them as she could.

Tim looked over the rail and down the stairs; the area was dark. As he stepped off the last step, the motion sensors activated the auto-lights as he started down the main corridor. Well, at least the solar backup system was working. He continued down the broad corridor with shops set on both sides advertising their services and wares—student grants, dorm arrangements, tutors, health insurance, buy-and-sell old book cards, and more student-oriented venues. Tim scanned down the corridor and spotted the various food signs. No matter how the current public pushed for healthy food, the fast-food business was alive and well, and here it was fast-food heaven—or, Tim thought, since it was below ground, fast-food hell. He chuckled to himself at his own pun.

Each step he took further away from Mrs. Jackson and the children, the more he felt like he was in a horror movie. The further down the hallway he traveled, the more oppressive the feeling of suspense—where was the chainsaw crazy going to jump out from to start hacking someone to pieces? He felt the tension build with each step. Why did he volunteer? Oh yeah, the depressing little kids. So now his skin was crawling, and he was ready to wet his pants. He looked at every dark corner, half expecting something to jump or slither out. He remembered when he was a kid and had to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He had been afraid to put his feet on the floor next to his bed, certain that the dark space underneath held some unknown terror that would reach out and pull him under to some horrible doom. But he had survived every nighttime trip to the bathroom.

Most of the shops were closed for the summer, just as Carl had said they would be. As he walked on, he could smell food cooking. Chicken soup? There—it was a sandwich shop. The counter was set up with cold cuts, condiments, and bread, and there were two large pots of hot soup. Wow! How great is this? He smiled for the first time since finding his parents. This would make feeding the kids really easy. He stepped around the counter, scanning the trays of sandwich ingredients covered with plastic wrap. He held his hand over the layers of sliced meats and cheeses and felt the cold hovering over the trays. Good, he nodded, the refrigeration was working, so the solar backup system must be working too, and the food would still be safe to eat. He turned and stepped toward the soup pots when his foot caught on something and he tripped and fell.

Nancy waited, pacing to the stairway and back to the children, then back to the railing. It felt as if Tim had been gone a very long time—or was the stress of worry playing with her sense of time? She walked back and looked down toward the corridor through the rails again, but still no sign of the young man. She smiled at the girls holding the baby and tried to exhibit a look of calm. She kept glancing at her wrist chronometer, which still didn’t work, and then wondered, why am I still wearing this thing? Now she wished she had purchased one of the low-tech chronometers that were not linked to the WWN. She paced back to the rail—how long was that corridor?

One of the children asked when Tim would get back; another child asked if they were going to eat soon. Nancy smiled and gently told them to “be patient” and “soon.” She paced the path to the rail again when she finally heard footsteps. She bent over the rail to see Tim walk into view and then saw the blood on his face. Nancy raced down the stairs to the boy. “What happened?”

Tim waved her away and shook his head. “I fell down and hit my head. Stupid! I wasn’t paying attention and tripped.” He glanced up at the children looking over the rail at him. He stepped closer to Nancy, tipped his head in the direction from which he had come, and whispered, “I found two people and had to move them.”

Nancy closed her eyes, thinking how easy it would have been for either of them to get hurt and not return. She tried to examine the cut on Tim’s head again while she asked, “Is there a safe place where we can take the children?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “There’s a sandwich shop all set up with fresh food, and it’ll be really easy to serve the kids a meal.” He smiled weakly as he fended off her worried mothering over the small gash on his head—it was just a superficial cut, and typical of a head wound, it had bled profusely. Nancy studied Tim’s face; he was more upset than he let on, but she decided not to press the boy about what had happened. She would make sure to ask later. Right now, it was time to take the children down into the food court and organize some system to feed all of them.

When they arrived at the sandwich shop, Nancy called the older children together and asked for volunteers to help work the counter to make sandwiches. With the older students assigned to jobs, an assembly line formed and sandwiches were constructed. Nancy monitored the line of children receiving sandwiches while keeping up encouragement to the older children behind the counter. Tim stood at the soup pots and offered the hot soup. The food had a calming effect on the children, and they started to perk up a little. Nancy scanned the children, and the scene started to feel a little more like a field trip—a kind of we’re off to see the zoo atmosphere instead of my world has just ended.

While some of the older children were serving the group, the other older children helped her comfort and encourage the younger. They helped the shyest children to go ahead and get in line.

Nancy directed the workers to make the sandwiches a certain size and not to overstuff them. They had to remember that another busload of older, larger children were coming, and they also had to be fed. She looked down the corridor and tried to calculate the time in her head. Carl should be back about the time this group of children had finished eating. There were not enough tables in the shop for everyone to sit at for their meal, so Nancy nervously gave the children permission to sit at the benches scattered up and down the main thoroughfare of the food court. She paced back and forth from the counter to the children out in the main thoroughfare, reminding them to stay in this area and not wander off.

Nancy returned to the counter where she and Tim made sure that each child had a sandwich and a cup of soup if they wished. Only a few children wanted the soup, and Nancy planned to save that to be offered later for those who would ask for more. She tried not to let her imagination run away wondering what tomorrow would bring. She watched the children as they quietly ate, asking herself, Will this be our last easy meal? So far, all she’d been able to do all day was think through one step at a time. Now, consideration of what might lay in the future started to creep into her thoughts. She wondered what was happening in other towns and communities outside their little mountain valley.

Nancy tried to ask Tim again how he had injured his head earlier. The young man just shook his head. “Not now, please, Mrs. Jackson,” he said quietly. “Let’s just say it was really bad.” He stared down at his plate as he continued to eat his sandwich.

Nancy reached across the table, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here when you need to talk to me, Tim. I don’t know what I would have done today without you,” she told him gently.

Nancy continued scanning around the room at the children, taking note of their overall emotional state. She was surprised at how well they seemed to be holding up, but she expected tears and panic to erupt at any time. Several of the clusters of children had turned to look down the hallway in the direction from which they had entered the food court. Nancy’s first thought was that the second group of children had arrived already; if so, Carl had really pushed that old school bus. She listened and became aware that the children were talking to someone other than Carl or Sam. She stood up and walked to the door to find out what was going on. Tim looked up as Nancy started toward the tables outside the sandwich shop. He set his unfinished sandwich down and followed her.

As they exited the sandwich shop into the main aisle of the food court, they saw two elderly people speaking to a group of children. Nancy felt a swift stab of panic that these strangers had approached her children unnoticed.

“That’s not Carl and Sam,” Tim stated. The elderly couple had turned to look in the direction the children pointed—at Nancy and Tim. The couple appeared to be in their late seventies. The portly woman had a warm, grandmotherly smile with twinkling eyes peering out of a friendly face framed with silver hair. The man was tall, almost skeletal. He tipped his balding head down to look over the top of his glasses as Nancy and Tim approached.

In a deep, resonant voice, the man called out to them, “Hello there.” Tim and Nancy exchanged wary looks. “Are you the leaders of this expedition?” he asked.

Nancy watched the man as he approached and wondered if this was another blessing or if what little luck they had had just run out. “Hello, I’m Nancy Jackson and this is Tim Nelson, and yes, we are in charge of this group,” she answered. “Who are you?”

The woman walked forward and extended her hand. “Hello dear, I’m Helen, and this is my husband, Frank. We live nearby and saw that old bus drive by our house. We decided to walk over to find out what was going on. The net has been down all day, along with the main power and the phones. If I didn’t have to renew one of Frank’s meds, we would have just sat there and ignored the rest.” She barely paused. “Frank and I used to teach on campus, but we’re both retired now. So, what brings you youngsters onto our beautiful campus during the summer break? Is this a field trip?” she finished rapidly.

Tim and Nancy looked at each other, somewhat startled. Did these two really not know what was going on? Nancy paused, then asked the couple, “You really don’t have any idea what is going on?”

The man glanced at his wife and smiled. “Well, we were hoping that we were imagining things, but we know that something is amiss. Helen’s been real peevish without her soap operas today. Do you know what’s going on?”

Tim took the lead, extending his hand to shake the older gentleman’s. “Hi—yeah, something is really wrong. The entire net seems to have crashed, and almost all adults and older students are—” he paused and lowered his voice—“frozen.”

Frank was taken aback by Tim’s blunt response. “I see,” he drawled, scanning around at the children and then back to his wife. “Is there anything we can do to help?” he said, turning his attention back to Nancy and Tim.

Nancy did not wait another second and jumped in with how they had met Carl and Sam, and that Carl had driven them here on the bus. It had been his idea to use the dorms to house the children at least until they could figure out what was happening.

When Nancy had finished, Helen said, “You dears have had a very trying day, haven’t you? Well, Frank and I will help you set the children up in one of the dorms. I think Carl had the right idea to bring the children here.”

Nancy looked perplexed by the familiar way the woman spoke about Carl. “By any chance do you know Carl?”

Frank smiled. “Carl and I have known each other for years; he’s fixed more antique pieces of equipment around this place than anyone I know. Unfortunately, he can’t fix me or Helen.” He laughed. “This place would have fallen apart years ago if it had not been for people like Carl. Eventually, they’ll just replace all the old with the new—including us old antiques. But replacing takes time and funds, and until then, Carl’s one of the few people who can keep this place running. You couldn’t have asked for a better person to show up in a crisis.”

Helen spoke up. “Well, if these students are staying for orientation, we better get them into the dorms. We’ll need them to bring in their bedding; students were instructed to bring those things they’d need for the night. The dorms are set up with bunks, and each floor has communal bathrooms. If anyone hasn’t brought all their things, I think they may be able to borrow from someone. Then tomorrow we’ll show everyone around the campus.” She paused. “How’s that sound to everyone?”

Frank leaned toward his wife, put a protective arm around her shoulders, and smiled sadly at Nancy.

Nancy and Tim looked at Frank, understanding beginning to dawn on them. They both forced a sympathetic smile at the older couple. Helen apparently didn’t completely grasp what was going on, but Nancy would take all the help she could get. She thought things could have been much worse; at least her group was safe for now. She hesitated to even think things would be all right, for fear of casting a jinx on the good luck they had so far.

“All right there, young man—Tim, did you say?” Frank said. “I think we should go scavenging for some supplies?”

Nancy chimed in. “Why don’t we wait a few more minutes and the second group should be arriving. Then we could start to feed the other children—plus Carl and Sam will be here to help.”

Frank asked, “How many children have you collected?”

Nancy faced the man and replied, “About 190, from ages five years to thirteen—and Tim. Then I found the baby in a home near the fire station.” Nancy was silent for a long moment. She looked at Frank and Helen. “How many other babies are out there without parents?” she whispered to them.

Helen patted Nancy’s arm with her hand. “You did what you could, dear. There’s only so much any of us can do. We will have to lean on each other and take one day at a time and hope the good Lord will help us through our trials,” the woman rambled. “I personally think you’ve done a fabulous job, bringing all these children down for a field trip all by yourself. My goodness!” Helen exclaimed as she wiped soup from a little girl’s mouth. “I would have never considered trying to manage this many children all by myself in my day.”

Nancy raised her eyebrows; she wasn’t sure if the woman was scolding her or admiring her tenacity. The woman’s repeated reference to this being a field trip or a student orientation kept throwing Nancy off, but she was thankful for the support all the same. At this moment, though, she did not feel like she had accomplished nearly enough. Her mind kept thinking about all the other children still out there, alone and frightened—and now night was coming on.