Chapter 21: Keys

By morning the lawn in front of Shelter Four was a camp.

Three thousand people had slept on grass under tarps, and a few had slept under the flatbed.

A thin gray rain was falling.

Nobody had been locked out, and nobody had been let in either, and I could feel the day getting short.

We stood around the hood of Emmett's truck with the brass key ring spread across the metal.

Seven keys, numbered in Lorraine's handwriting.

"Four is open," I said. "That leaves six."

"Six buildings," said Abel, studying the map. "Nobody's told them to go."

"Nobody can. Every phone in this county is dead."

"So we tell them in person."

"Yes."

Emmett leaned on the hood.

"I have a flatbed with two hundred gallons of diesel," he said. "I can carry forty people in the bed and a goat."

"We don't have a goat."

"Someone out there has a goat. I'm just saying the offer stands."

"Emmett."

"I'll drive."

I split the ring into three.

I gave Emmett and Ward keys one and two, on the north side of the river.

I gave Abel three and five, because the ambulance could cut through the east side on the shoulder.

I held back six and seven, which sat south on the highway past the line yard.

"Those are mine," said Hollis.

He was standing behind me, shirt buttoned to the throat, to hide the burn.

He had been on his feet for a few minutes.

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