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some useful supplies by grabbing perishables. Course he couldn’t blame her. Most people didn’t have a clue what they needed in such situations.
    “I hate to say it, but I think it’s as bad as they’re saying, maybe even worse.”
    Her face darkened with fear.
    “I’m sorry,” John said. “I know that isn’t the kind of thing you wanted to hear, but it won’t do you much good if I sugarcoat things.”
    “I just ho pe Craig’s okay.”
    “Your husband?”
    “Yeah, he’s in Phoenix on business. The phones aren’t working. I have no idea if he’s lost power as well.”
    It was a good point. There was no telling how localized the problem was, but the further John had travelled —even just this morning—the more convinced he’d become that it was probably affecting the entire country.
    “I’m su re he’s fine,” John offered, the words feeling hollow.
    She smiled before advancing to the checkout girl.
    His conversation with the woman had distracted him, but the closer John drew to the cash, the more outcries he became aware of. Even from people waving money around. And it didn’t seem to be coming from frustrated customers trying to use credit cards. He wondered what was going on. After she was done, the woman with the perishables gave him one final look and all John could do was smile and mouth a silent prayer.
    The checkout girl was sweeping each of John’s items from right to left, rattling off prices as she went. Beside her, another girl recorded the numbers in a notepad. But something was odd about the numbers she was reading off. One can of corn, normally ninety-nine cents, was now five dollars. The water, once six dollars ninety-nine cents, was now fifteen dollars. Prices had doubled or in some cases quintupled. She hadn’t even processed half of the items in John’s cart before he was over the two-hundred-dollar mark.
    “Wait a minute,” he told the girl. “The price on two gallons of water is six ninety-nine, not fifteen dollars.”
    “I don’t make t he prices,” she said matter-of-factly.
    “Yes, but you’re gouging people right when they need these things the most.”
    “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir, but this may be the last order we get this week. It’s not me, it’s my manager.” She pointed to a mirror on the wall and the manager’s office John knew was behind it.
    What a weasel move. Hiking up prices during an emergency and making these young checkout girls take all the heat.
    John had a difficult decision to make and he’d have to make it quickly. Given the state of things, there wasn’t much chance of withdrawing any more money from the ATM. In fact, any money he had in the bank, as well as his 401k, had just gone up in smoke. He had ten thousand dollars’ worth of gold pieces stashed at his house for just such a moment, except none of it would do him much good right now. It would still be a few days before people were ready to barter for goods and services. Cash and credit were so ingrained in the average mind that showing up with gold pieces would only add to the confusion. What would a teenage cashier know about the value of gold bullion?
    A man behind John told him to hurry up.
    “Sir?” the cashier asked. “Do you want the stuff or not? I’ve got other people in line.”
    He handed her his last two hundred dollars, gritting his teeth. Yes, he could take his chances at another grocery store or maybe even a mom-and-pop shop, but who was to say he’d have any more luck there?
    Fuming, John left the store, pushing the cart filled mostly with the jugs of water and a few cans of food. He made it back to the Blazer to find Diane behind the wheel, looking nervous. Even though it was still early in the morning, the windows were opened a crack to let in some air.
    John scanned the surrounding area to make sure it was safe to open the rear cargo hatch. Diane opened the window further and tossed him the keys. After loading everything onboard, John went to the