They Thought the Widow Stacked Firewood Against Her Barn for Decoration — Until the Ice Storm Came
Chapter 2
At 5:42 that morning, the first power line came down.
It landed across County Road 14 with a shower of blue sparks.
Nobody saw it happen.
There was no traffic.
No headlights.
No plows.
The road had already become too dangerous.
Freezing rain continued falling, coating everything it touched.
By dawn, branches had collapsed across driveways throughout the county.
Several telephone poles had snapped.
Cell service became unreliable.
The temperature dropped to nineteen degrees.
Inside Margaret’s farmhouse, however, the kitchen was warm.
She had started the wood system before sunrise.
A kettle steamed on the stove.
The generator was running only long enough to power the refrigerator and a small battery bank.
Margaret wasn’t wasting fuel.
She had learned that lesson from Thomas.
Generators were temporary.
Wood was dependable.
At 7:18, someone pounded on her front door.
Margaret grabbed her flashlight and opened it.
Gary stood outside.
His beard was covered in ice.
“Margaret!”
“What happened?”
“My truck slid into the ditch.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Just cold.”
She pulled him inside.
Gary removed his frozen coat.
“You were right.”
Margaret handed him a towel.
“About what?”
“The storm.”
She gave him a look.
He sighed.
“Don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
He sat near the wood stove.
“I’ve been trying to reach the county office. Nothing.”
“Roads?”
“Blocked.”
“Power?”
“Everywhere.”
“Emergency services?”
“Overwhelmed.”
Margaret nodded.
“How many people are trapped?”
Gary looked at her.
“Probably hundreds.”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“Where are the shelters?”
“The high school is supposed to be open.”
“Supposed to?”
“Generator failed.”
Margaret was quiet.
Gary looked around the warm kitchen.
“You really did prepare for this.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Margaret looked toward the barn.
“Firewood.”
Gary smiled.
“I’m never making fun of those stacks again.”
A loud crash interrupted them.
They both looked toward the window.
A massive oak branch had fallen across the driveway.
Margaret grabbed her coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To check the barn.”
Gary followed.
They stepped outside.
The world looked unreal.
Trees bowed beneath the weight of ice.
Fences disappeared beneath frozen branches.
The barn roof groaned.
But the firewood stacks stood untouched.
Margaret had deliberately stacked them beneath the roof overhang and against the barn wall.
She had also left narrow paths between each stack.
Gary stared.
“You built this like a maze.”
“Air needs to move through it.”
He shook his head.
“You thought of everything.”
“No.”
Margaret looked toward the road.
“Not everything.”
“What do you mean?”
She pointed.
A vehicle was moving slowly through the trees.
A school bus.
It was struggling up the hill.
Then it stopped.
Margaret squinted.
There were people inside.
Gary grabbed his radio.
“That’s the elementary school bus.”
“How many kids?”
“Maybe twenty.”
The bus driver opened the door.
A child stepped down.
The ice-covered road was too slippery.
The child fell.
Margaret immediately started walking.
“Where are you going?”
“To get them.”
“Margaret, that’s dangerous.”
She turned.
“Gary, if that bus stays there, those kids will freeze.”
He followed.
Together they reached the bus.
The driver was shaking.
“Can you get them to the house?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know.”
Margaret looked at the children.
Some were crying.
One little boy was wrapped in a thin sweatshirt.
Another girl was shivering so badly she couldn’t speak.
Margaret opened the bus door.
“Everyone listen to me.”
The children became quiet.
“My name is Margaret.”
A little girl asked,
“Are we going to die?”
Margaret crouched beside her.
“No.”
The girl stared at her.
“How do you know?”
Margaret looked toward the farmhouse.
“Because I prepared for this.”
Then she turned to Gary.
“Get them to the barn.”
“Why the barn?”
“Because that’s where the firewood is.”
Gary stared.
For the first time, he understood.
Those giant stacks hadn’t been decoration.
They had been a plan.
And the plan was only beginning.
