Free One Second After by William R. Forstchen

shoulder, moving him closer to the firehouse, John following.
    â€œAre you crazy?” Charlie whispered hoarsely. “You want to start a panic?”
    Jim looked at him confused.
    â€œI should haul your butt inside right now for inciting panic.”
    â€œJust a minute,” John interjected, putting his hand on Charlie’s and pulling it off Jim’s shoulder.
    â€œJim, 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.
    â€œSorry 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.
    â€œOk, 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.”
    â€œSure, my man, got it.”
    â€œNow just go around and tell people you were joking, calm them down,” John interjected, “it’d help a lot.”
    â€œGot it.”
    Jim made a show of turning back to face those who had been watching them.
    â€œJust having some fun, that’s all,” Jim announced.
    â€œSome fun,” came a bitter reply. “We want to know what the hell is going on.”
    â€œThat’s what we’re working on right now,” Charlie announced, “so let’s just stay calm.”
    â€œYou two, we gotta talk.” Coming out of the station was Tom Barker, the chief of police.
    â€œShit,” Jim muttered. “Here comes the man.”
    â€œTom, how you doing?” John said quietly.
    â€œLike 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.
    â€œCharlie, a question for you,” John said. “Absolutely no communication whatsoever and all vehicles dead except for my car and Jim’s here?”
    â€œYeah, 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.”
    â€œNot good,” John said softly.
    â€œI think we’re on the same wavelength,” Charlie replied softly.
    â€œWhere’s Orville Gardner?”
    John knew that Orville worked downtown in Asheville, as assistant director for the county’s emergency preparedness office.
    â€œNot a word from him. Guess he’s stuck in Asheville.”
    â€œTom, Charlie, can we go inside and talk?”
    â€œWhy?” Tom asked. “I’d like to know why you two have cars and the rest of us don’t.”
    â€œBecause nothing can kill a Volkswagen, man,” Jim said with a grin.
    John stepped between Jim and Tom.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œSure, 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.
    â€œHey, look. You know you’re a hair up Tom’s butt.”
    Jim smiled.
    â€œHe’s out in my back lot every year prowling for weed and never caught me once.”
    â€œMaybe you should skip this meeting. Keep an eye on the cars. Help keep people calm and no more of this stuff about