Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre(15)
JOURNAL ENTRY #4 [CONTINUED]
The doorbell rang and we both jumped. It was Carmen. She asked if we were getting any cell reception. We told her our situation, including the power problem. You could see she hadn’t thought to check that. She looked back at her house, where Effie was standing in the doorway with a blanket-wrapped Palomino.
Dr. Reinhardt shuffled over in a kimono, which made me stifle a nervous giggle. He asked what was going on, what that loud crash was. His breath was so bad, even from six feet away. I just pointed up the ridge behind our houses. You could still see a faint crimson flicker. He looked, paused, then turned back with this hesitant yet arrogant “Oh yes, of course that, I’ve seen that, I just mean…” As he was struggling for the words (any words, I’m guessing, to save face) Carmen asked about his Wi-Fi connection. He responded, kind of self-importantly, that he didn’t own a “pocket phone.” Dan started to ask him about the power supply to his house, but was cut off by someone shouting, “Meeting!”
We all looked over to Bobbi Boothe waving her phone flashlight at us while Vincent shone his on the ground. They were halfway to the Common House, where I could see Tony and Yvette waiting. Yvette was already at the kitchenette, filling up the kettle while Tony took teacups from the cupboard.
Tony waved everyone to take a seat and asked if anyone was hungry, if they wanted him to run back to his house for some snacks. When we shook our heads, he joked that the only hunger was for information. I saw that both he and Yvette still wore their calm, reassuring smiles. Maybe a little bit stiffer? Forced? But that could have totally been me projecting my own anxiety.
Tony began by stating that obviously something was happening up on Rainier. Some kind of “activity.” And while we couldn’t be sure of anything yet, by now, we all knew that “our cable is out.”
The way he talked, that casual confidence. “Our cable is out.”
He assured us that it’d probably come back soon, maybe a few minutes, an hour, and then we could all see what was really happening up on Rainier.
“What about the car radio?” That was Vincent Boothe. “We’ve all got Sirius satellite, right?” He rose suddenly. “I’ll go listen to the news!” As he ran out to the little BMW i3 parked in his driveway, Tony held up his hand in an over-the-top salute. “Uh…yeah, Vincent…why don’t you go listen to the news.”
I laughed with the rest of the room.
“If there is an eruption,” that was Reinhardt, “there must be at least a few fatalities, given the proximity to population centers.” He talked about how, during Mount St. Helens, there were scientists, like someone named David Johnston, and people who refused to evacuate, this guy named Harry Truman. (Really? Harry Truman? Like the president?*1) Waving his hand to the window, he said, “And St. Helens was in the middle of nowhere. With Rainier…”
Yvette cut him off with a playfully scolding “Alex” and an exaggerated nod to Palomino, who was wrapped tightly in Effie’s arms. Reinhardt glanced over his shoulder at the girl, gave her a thumbs-up (Seriously? A thumbs-up?), then melted back into his chair.
Tony reclaimed the room by saying, “Until we do find out what’s happening, the worst thing we can do right now is drive ourselves crazy with speculation. Stress, anxiety”—a warm, friendly glance at Palomino—“does that ever help?”
“Should we leave?” That was Bobbi. “I mean, can’t we just get in our cars and drive in the other direction?”
“We could”—Tony nodded with eyebrows raised—“and that’s a valid impulse, but until we know more, we might be making things a whole lot worse for ourselves.” He must have expected the quizzical looks. “We’re safe up here. Rainier’s too far away to hurt us, right?”
Was it? Tony seemed to think so.
“But if we panic and head down into the valley…there’s only one road out, and it’s sure to be jammed with panicked people right now. Remember the Malibu wildfires? All those cars stuck on the Pacific Coast Highway? Not moving. No bathrooms. Remember that?”
I did. Watching the endless coverage. That thin snake of cars wedged in between the hills and the ocean. I remember hearing constantly that they’d barely moved inches in hours. I remember feeling guilty that I was safe and comfortable at home, able to see the pulsing orange line creep right over the distant hills.
Tony asked, “Do we really want to do that to ourselves? Wade into that chaos? Maybe even hinder emergency vehicles trying to get to people who really need help? And if they don’t? If it all turns out to be a false alarm?”
He gestured to the wall, in the direction of Mr. Boothe’s car. “Again, we don’t know anything right now. And if Vincent comes in here telling us he’s heard about an evacuation order, trust me, I’ll be the first—no…the last one to leave, after I’ve made sure all of you get out of here safely. But until that order comes, until we know more, the worst thing we can do right now is panic.”
“So, what do we do?” That was Carmen, and Tony seemed to brighten. Yvette even shot him a knowing look, like she was prompting him to say what they’d been waiting for. “Perfect question,” he said, and spread his hands in a jazzed “check this out” gesture.
“This situation, the one we find ourselves in now, is exactly what Greenloop is designed for!” He paused for a moment, letting his enthusiasm wash over us. “Think about it. We’re not in physical danger, just temporarily out of touch. We have power from our solar panels, water from our wells, heating from our own biogas. Is anyone going to starve if we don’t get a FreshDirect grocery fix in the next few days…Sorry, Alex.” Reinhardt laughed, his big belly shaking like Santa Claus’s. Everyone else chuckled too. You could feel the tension drain out of the room.