Amber rolled her eyes. "Here we go…”
"No, I'm serious," Cami said, finding it hard to resist the argument. "All it takes is one or two of the big transformers out there to be damaged from a power surge—we can't replace them through Amazon. They have to be custom made in factories in Germany or China or something. You know how long it takes to build those things? Let alone ship them and install them? If that's the extent of the power outage, we could be in the dark for months…or years."
"The lights flickered a little, mom. I hardly think that’s—”
All the lights in the house winked out at once, plunging them into darkness. Amber squeaked in surprise. Cami counted to ten, opened her mouth to say I told you so, but the lights came back on before she could speak.
"Okay,” Amber admitted. “I see your point." She crossed her arms. "That kind of actually sucked."
"So, what do we do?" Mitch asked.
A soft ding alerted Cami that the oven was ready. She ripped the plastic wrap off the pizzas and put them in the oven, then shut the door and set the timer. "First, we need to get these pizzas cooked." Cami pulled out a kitchen towel and wiped her hands. "While they’re cooking, I suggest we each gather flashlights and batteries. I wouldn't be surprised if the power goes out for good tonight."
"Sounds like a plan," Mitch said.
"Amber, I need you to get the first aid kit from the hallway closet and bring it in here into the kitchen."
"What do we need the first aid kit for? Nobody's hurt,” Amber replied as she stood from the table.
"It's not so much that anybody's hurt—I just want to make sure we have it in a convenient spot, so we don't have to go digging around in the dark looking for it—if we do need it. We'll just clear some space here on the counter and park it for the time being. Sound good?" Seeing no objection, Cami continued. "Good. I’ll go get the emergency preparedness binders. We've got some work to do if this gets as bad as I think it might.”
By the time the pizza was ready, Mitch and Amber had gathered the first aid kit and flashlights, along with spare batteries, and piled everything on the kitchen counter. Cami dusted off her emergency preparedness binder and brought it into the kitchen as well.
Reese had always thought it had been a good idea to have a binder of information, if nothing else than as an emergency reference for Amber should something happen during a hurricane. Once she grew old enough to care for herself, Reese's enthusiasm for keeping the emergency binder up to date waned. Cami had been the only one to touch the binder in the last year, and that had merely been to update emergency contacts when Reese received a new cell phone for work.
While Amber and Mitch ate, Cami absently chewed her slice and thumbed through the binder, in what turned out to be a cathartic experience. She likened it to catching up with a friend she hadn't seen in a long time. The waves of panic that had assaulted her as much as the tsunami had assaulted the coastline had calmed, her anxiety level returning to its natural, smooth surface. All the worries floating around in her head were clearly marked in the binder as individual categories and recommended courses of action were laid clear.
Just thumbing through the major sections on food, water, electrical supply, first-aid, and communications brought a sense of peace to Cami that she hadn't known since before Reese left on his corporate fishing trip. She closed the binder and sat back, sighing with contentment from both her stomach and her nerves.
"Good book?" asked Mitch around a mouthful of veggie pizza.
Cami placed a protective hand on the thick binder. "The best kind. Reese and I did a lot of hard thinking in the past and put together action plans for just about anything. If something happens to me," she said, looking at Amber and Mitch.
"Mom, nothing's going to happen—we’re not even near the beach!"
Cami held up a hand to stop Amber’s interruption before she got started. "I'm just saying. If something were to happen to me, this book represents a lifetime of knowledge and information. Just flip to the right section, there's one for food, shelter, power—you name it, it's in here. I've got reference materials, suggested courses of action, checklists, and inventories.” She looked at the binder. “I’m not saying we need to break into it right this minute—but it’s here if you need it. I just want you guys to know where it's at. Okay?" Cami narrowed her eyes at Amber. "I'm not saying something's going to happen, honey, but it would make me feel better, and I would sleep better at night knowing that you know where this thing is. Understand?"
Amber's face slackened, and she nodded, offering a shy smile.
Cami smiled broadly. "Good. Now, this binder gave me an idea—I want to go check on our neighbors. Mr. Price is getting up in age. I just want to make sure he's okay."
Amber scoffed and leaned into Mitch to explain conspiratorially, "Mr. Price is a hard-core prepper. He's probably been waiting for something like this his whole life."
"He's also in his 80s," Cami said. She frowned. "I think. He's old, at any rate. And it's the neighborly thing to do. So," she said, standing up. “I’ll leave you two to handle the dishes, while I go walk through the neighborhood and see what's going on."
"You mind if I have a look-see through that?” asked Mitch, gesturing at the emergency binder with the crust of his pizza. He raised his hand in defense when Amber
