All The Dark Places

12. Making It Work In A Natural Disaster

     Somewhere in the castle a clock struck eleven. The electricity was completely out, and the generators did not work. Toby had assembled a five-man handyman crew and none of them could figure out why the generators didn't work. Last winter they had a snow storm, they informed her, and when the electric went out, the generators worked just fine. Scott was sleeping soundly, but Rosalind could not bring herself to sleep at all, even through the exhaustion. She opened the leather-bound journal her husband had given her for her last birthday. It reminded her of the green leaf journal Felicia carried, but this one was a rich mahogany brown and featured a rose in tooled leather on the cover. She began filling it's pages with plans, scribbling down ideas and schedules by candle-light. She could think of nothing else but making plans. 

     She opened her e-reader and scrolled through her collection of books; six hundred and fifty-nine of them. There were hundreds of books she used for research to write The Shadow Book Trilogy; books on survivalism, self-sufficient living, homesteading, and farming. Luckily, her e-reader was almost fully charged. The dim screen showed Making It Work In A Natural Disaster by Arthur Tennenbaum. She set out fresh ink pens and copied out important information in short-hand. The diagrams were tricky to copy but using the edge of a folded piece of paper as a ruler; she managed to get it done. After a while, her hand began to cramp. She was careful with the power usage of the device. She memorized the gist of pages and condensed them into a few sentences where it was possible. How to make rain barrels. How to harvest seeds from vegetables and fruit. How to build an irrigation system for a large community garden. The latter was a challenge and she found that when she was startled out of her reverie, four hours had passed as if it were minutes. 

      "Roz, what the hell are you doing? It's late. You should get some sleep." Scott's sleepy voice was almost a whisper from the bed. 

      "I know. I can't sleep. I'm copying books from my e-reader." 

      "OK, yeah. That's a good idea. All those survivalist books you have on that thing." 

      "Once this e-reader runs out of power, it's not like we're right next to a book store." 

      "There are several in Athelgate. I saw them on the way in, but they were tourist shops; the kind with coffee table books of English scenery. I don't think we'll find anything really useful in those places." 

     She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing the knuckles of her writing hand. 

      "We should go into Athelgate, just you and me," she said. 

      "What the hell for?" 

      "Because right now, people still think the government is going to save us. There are shops that are staying open. People are still accepting cash. We could buy supplies before people figure out that money is useless and give up on it. Everyone is in denial," she explained. 

      "I see your point." 

     He sat up in bed and reached to the bedside table for his wallet. Counting out his cash, he declared, 

     "I have three hundred and ninety six pounds." 

      "Five hundred exactly," she declared. "we might be able to get someone to sell us seeds, supplies for rain barrels, maybe some irrigation supplies." 

      "In the morning, Roz. Please come to bed." 

     She put down her ink pen and climbed under the covers with Scott. A few minutes later, he was snoring. She thought of Charlie, who was, hopefully, at the cabin in Big Sur. She missed him so much it physically pained her to think of him. All she could do was cry until it exhausted her into sleep.