Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Apocalypse

9) The Massacre

After the power went out, money became obsolete the first week. Most people didn't carry or stash cash because we all had our debit cards which are as worthless as a piece of plastic when you're hungry. People couldn't withdraw money from the bank or buy food because there was no electricity. When people tried to break in the banks, what was left of our government froze the currency to prevent runs on the banks.

Next, gold became king until people realized it was heavy, and you couldn't eat it either. When gold went out of favor three weeks in, things people needed for survival became currency. Food, clean water, medicine, cigarettes, booze, and luxury items - like toilet paper and shampoo and lotion- were traded like mamas trade recipes. 

The more rare the item, the more it was worth. Early on, ammunition became the most valuable commodity you couldn't ingest, wipe with, or slather on. Oddly, for the South where every house had a gun(s),  ammunition was scarce. Why? Because when the lights went out, every yahoo in town was firing at shadows or "hunting" for supper. 

After about a month of people realizing that "they're not making any more", food became our gold. Even before it became currency, food was scarce. People panicked and cleaned stores out, and while most of us had enough food to last a few weeks, refugees from parts of the country under siege were arriving daily. When the power came back on inexplicably for about a week, our town became literally a beacon in the dark.

Refugees by the hundreds arrived on foot or in caravans of mismatched, dilapidated vehicles ranging from bicycles to mopeds to lawn mowers pulling carts piled high with grandparents and babies and camping gear. Initially, church members and Red Cross volunteers tried to take care of those in need. This was the early days when people were still kind to each other because we thought this "new normal" was all going to be over in a few weeks. There was still hope and people were still generous, but it became quickly evident that you can't give away something you don't have. 

The volunteers gave up their mission of mercy and packed up and joined the caravans headed out of town.

The day of the massacre was after the power went back off in our town forever. How were people still finding our town? We speculated it just happened that we were right off the exit for anyone headed South on Interstate 77. Starving people were desperate and looking for food. A town that was advertised as the "home of the real life Mayberry" seemed like a place that would help a neighbor. Unfortunately by this point, our town couldn't look after its own citizens, much less neighbors.

Steven and I were at a food distribution center, set-up for locals, at our old school, when an incoming refugee group supposedly from Charlottesville, Virginia and made up mostly of women and children stopped on their way south to rest. They said they were promised food and water by the government of the town they just went through. They said so. Promised, they said. We are starving, they said. We have children and babies, they said. Is there milk, they asked?

Starving mothers will do anything to feed their hungry children. Starving people who are being invaded by outsiders will do anything to defend what is rightfully theirs. Someone pulled a gun. No one knows who, although the survivors insisted it was one of the now dead.

Steven and I were there that day. It was weeks after the evaporated milk giveaway/execution and times were grim. Having enough food was a distant memory that was definitely worth fighting and dying for. Steven and I broke our rule again that day - no crowds - because we were trying to keep our bellies full with some extra food and get some information. I was talking to a girl about my age and trying to get what my dad called "intel". I knew to listen close to her words to find the truth.

"Where's your men?" I asked the girl. The group seemed to be made up of all older women, a few younger, teenage girls, and cranky children with blank looks on their faces.