stepped out of a time machine from 1970, raggedy jeans, collarless shirt, headband like the kind Willie Nelson used to wear, the only giveaway of time passage the fact that Jim’s chest-length beard and short-length hair were nearly all gray.
“Hey guys, what’s happening?” Jim asked with a bit of a sardonic smile.
“So your old VWs are still running,” Charlie replied.
Jim smiled. “Even if the world is coming to an end my man, they’ll keep on rolling right up until the final big boom.”
“Well,” Charlie said quietly, voice pitched low so others wouldn’t hear, “I’d prefer you not going around saying it’s the end of the world.”
“But it is,” Jim replied, still smiling. “Been saying it for years. The Mayan Prophecy. They were saying December 2012, but somebody obviously got the date wrong.
He raised his voice a bit.
“This is it, my friends. The Day of Doom, just like them Mayans predicted.”
John looked around, half a dozen small groups were gathered outside the station, and as Jim spoke people started to turn and look towards him.
“Been telling you all for years that this day was coming,” Jim announced, strangely he was still smiling. “The Mayans had it right.”
“My kid told me about that last night,” someone replied, “yeah, some sci-fi guy wrote a book about it, my boy gave me the book and it seemed on the mark with all of this. Jim’s right, this could be it.”
John had always liked Jim, in almost every way he was a level handed, gentle soul, but he did harbor a few eccentric ideas, and now he had an audience.
“Power going off is just the starter. Wait until you see what happens to the sun.”
“Damn it, Jim,” Charlie hissed, “come over here.”
Charlie forcefully put a hand on Jim’s shoulder, moving him closer to the firehouse, John following.
“Are you crazy?” Charlie whispered hoarsely. “You want to start a panic?
Jim looked at him confused.
“I should haul your butt inside right now for inciting panic.”
“Just a minute,” John interjected, putting his hand on Charlie’s and pulling it off Jim’s shoulder.
“Jim, maybe you’re right,” John said hurriedly. “But there are lot of kids standing around. You want to scare the crap out of them at a time like this? Come on, my friend, chill out, let parents tell their kids in their own way. Please.”
Jim nodded thoughtfully.
“Sorry bro, didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
John made eye contact with Charlie. If his friend tried to collar Jim and make a scene, it just might very well start the panic rolling. Charlie got the message.
“Ok, sorry, Jim. Just I don’t want the kids getting frightened any more than they already are. So do us all a favor, and don’t talk about this Mayan stuff for right now. Got it.”
“Sure, my man, got it.”
“Now just go around and tell people you were joking, calm them down,” John interjected, “it’d help a lot.”
“Got it.”
Jim made a show of turning back to face those who had been watching them.
“Just having some fun, that’s all,” Jim announced. “Some fun,” came a bitter reply. “We want to know what the hell is going on.”
“That’s what we’re working on right now,” Charlie announced, so just stay calm.”
“You two, we gotta talk.” Coming out of the station was Tom Barker, the chief of police.
“Shit,” Jim muttered. “Here comes the man.”
“Tom, how you doing?” John said quietly.
“Like a legless dog that’s covered in fleas and can’t scratch,” Tom replied, and John smiled a bit at yet another of Tom’s colorful southernisms.
“Charlie, a question for you,” John said. “Absolutely no communication whatsoever and all vehicles dead except for my car and Jim’s here?”
“Yeah, that’s about it. Also the old Jeep down at Butler’s Garage still runs, though. We’ve got a couple of older mopeds and motorcycles, and Maury Hurt’s antique World War Two jeep. We’ve got that out on the highway now, checking on some emergency cases that people reported.”
“Not good,” John said softly.
“I think we’re on the same wavelength,” Charlie replied softly. “Where’s Orville Gardner?”
John knew that Orville worked downtown in Asheville, as assistant director for the county’s emergency preparedness office. “Not a word from him. Guess he’s stuck in Asheville.”
“Tom, Charlie, can we go inside and talk?”
“Why?” Tom asked. “I’d like to know why you two have cars and the rest of us don’t.”
“Because nothing can kill a Volkswagen, man,” Jim said with a grin. John stepped between Jim and Tom.
“I really think we should go inside, gentlemen,” John said. Though most of his career in the military had been spent behind books or up front in a classroom, he had led troops in the field and still did remember a bit about command voice, and he used it now.
Tom bristled slightly, but Charlie smiled.
“Sure, let’s go. The mayor’s inside; let’s go to her office.”
The three went in, Jim trailing along, and though John hated to insult the man, he turned and looked at him with a smile.
“Hey, look. You know you’re a hair up Tom’s butt.”
Jim smiled.
“He’s out in my back lot every year prowling for weed and never caught me once.”
“Maybe you should skip this meeting. Keep an eye on the cars. Help keep people calm and no more of this stuff about prophecies. Ok?”
“Sure, my man,” and Jim gave him a friendly salute.
John walked into Mayor Kate Lindsey’s office and she looked up from behind her desk, bleary-eyed. They were old friends. Kate and Mary had grown up together.
“You look beat, Kate.”
“I am. Never should have run for a third term. Damn thankless job at the best of times, and now this. Did Tom tell you that someone came down from the nursing home? They’ve got three dead up there.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“One of them was the Wilson boy.”
John sighed and shook his head. The boy had been a freshman at the college. Car accident three years ago, the usual story, a drunk who walked away from it, had left the boy in a vegetative state, kept alive by a respirator, his parents clinging to hope.… Well, that was finished.
“I thought the law required all nursing homes to have emergency generation. Those folks up there are going to be facing one helluva lawsuit,” Kate snapped.
“What about the highway?” John asked. “Any problems there? I had a bit of a confrontation with a drunk last night.”
“I got four drunks in the lockup right now,” Tom said. “Your boy’s most likely one of them. You want to press charges or anything?”
“Naw, no bother.”
“Someone came riding in on a bike a few hours ago from the North Fork, said a trailer burned there and old Granny Thomas burned to death in it.
“Damn,” John whispered.
Kate looked out the window and then back to John. “So why are your car and Jim’s running?”
John looked around for a chair and sat down without being asked, then handed over the report he had pulled
