And so, when Amber came bounding down the stairs full of caffeine energy and dressed for the day with her hair pulled back in a smart ponytail, Cami dried her hands on the dishtowel and grabbed her purse. "Ready for some shopping?"
Amber grinned, for a moment looking to Cami like the precocious ten-year old in the picture by the coat closet. “I’m more ready for that pedicure you promised this afternoon, but I suppose shopping will have to tide me over for now.”
By the time they made it to the outskirts of Charleston, Cami was almost ready to believe nothing was wrong. She’d received no government alerts, and there was very little chatter on any of the prepper forums she frequented. The news continued to repeat snippets of information coming from Africa...and that was that.
Cami realized the drive into town with Amber had been just what she’d needed to take her mind off the potential disaster speeding their way across the Atlantic. For all she knew, Reese was right—this would turn out to be a fat load of nothing.
But the traffic streaming out of Charleston soon ruined her mood and sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through her veins again. Her hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles as they rounded a final curve to see bumper-to-bumper traffic clogging every road out of the city in stark contrast to the empty lanes leading east toward downtown.
“What’s going on?” Amber asked with a smile. “Is there a hurricane we don’t know about?”
Cami grimaced at the joke. All thoughts of a relaxing mother-daughter day flew out the window as they drove by a Walmart. The parking lot looked no different than any other August morning. A gap in the traffic emerged near the entrance, so Cami took it, making a hard right and eliciting a squeak of surprise from Amber.
“Sorry, honey,” Cami muttered, turning them into the parking lot and pulling toward the storefront.
“Why are we stopping here? I thought—”
“School supplies, remember?” Cami asked.
“Um, yeah...” Amber said, drawing out the word as Cami pulled into an open spot on the side of the massive building, away from the main lot. “I was thinking Bath and Bodyworks for shower stuff, you know?”
Cami snorted and shifted into park. “You need paper towels, toilet paper—that kind of stuff too, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Amber admitted. “I guess…”
“Then we may as well get it here.”
Amber didn’t give in so easily. “Why are you parking over here, though? There’s plenty of spots right in front.”
“They’re all in the sun, and I hate to come back to a hot car,” Cami replied, getting out. “Besides, the side entrance is closer to the parking lot exit. See? Now, come on, I’m buying.”
Amber unbuckled and climbed out into the building’s shadow. “You could have led with that. What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
It took them almost an hour, but Cami didn’t want to blow an opportunity to stock up. She knew in her gut that something bad was coming, and this might be her last chance to find supplies. As they walked the aisles, past dozens of people blithely chatting on phones or corralling children, Cami’s fears continued to build. She found herself adding canned goods and bags of rice and beans to the cart, buried under paper products and a couple cases of bottled water.
Over Amber’s repeated objections, Cami made her find a second cart and fill that one, too. By the time they checked out, Cami felt satisfied she had enough food, water, and basic supplies to supplement the stocks at home for another month—more if she rationed.
The cashier’s eyebrows rose as she took in the carts that pulled into her lane. “How y’all doin? Leave any for the other folks?”
“My daughter’s going off to college,” Cami said quickly, pulling her wallet from the tactical purse over her shoulder. She smiled, thinking of Reese’s jokes about her handbag, which looked like a mini-rucksack, complete with MOLLE loops. It was technically a first-aid pack, but Cami found it the perfect size for a purse. It just happened to look…‘tacticool,’ as Reese put it.
“Mo-ommmm,” Amber hissed, blushing as she studiously unloaded the carts. “Don’t put this on me...”
The cashier, an older lady, chuckled. “Here I was thinkin’ you was just payin’ heed to that nonsense on the radio.”
“What nonsense?” Cami asked, as casual as possible, as she waited to insert her credit card into the reader.
“Oh, you know, that tidal wave business,” the cashier continued, swiping bags of rice over the scanner and tossing them into thin plastic bags at the other end of the check out lane.
“Tidal wave?” asked Cami, pretending to be surprised. She’d been tricked before into talking more in-depth with strangers in public. It never ended well, and she still couldn’t shop at the local Winn-Dixie.
“Is that what all the traffic’s about?” asked Amber quietly, hefting a bag of dried beans onto the checkout conveyor.
The cashier snorted. “All them Yankees runnin’ for the hills. I tell you what—I lived through every hurricane what ever hit here. Even them bad ones in the ‘60s. Don’t see me runnin’ from a little water.”
Cami smiled at the woman’s pronunciation of hurricane like ‘hurry-kin.’ “It does seem a bit far-fetched, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“I’ll say,” the cashier groused. “But it’s only a matter of time before people come in here like it’s the end of the world. I done worked my Black Friday shift last year—ain’t nobody wanna do that twice a year.”
After paying and thanking the cashier for her help, Cami and Amber took their loot out to the car. Cami couldn’t help but notice the store was busier on the way out than when they’d arrived. Why hadn’t she received any
