“Jessica just posted that Walmart’s closed. She said they stopped supplying the store.”

“Who stopped supplying the store?” he asked not looking at her. The glow from the device propped on his belly claimed most of his attention.

“Walmart!” she said. Her left hand clenched a bejewled purple plastic case, housing the latest Samsung while her the chipped French manicure on her right hand searched the phone for answers. She had become angry the sassy Korean woman who does her nails had gone missing from the salon last week. But that wasn’t important now. “Walmart stopped making deliveries to it’s own store. Can they do that?”

“They must be waiting out this gas thing. The news says regular will hit $16 a gallon soon. I can only imagine what diesel will cost.”

“Diesel?” She had grown tired of his cryptic answers. “What does diesel have to do with anything?”

“Trucks.” he paused. He lacked focus. It was another busy night on foxnews.com.The website had been exploding over the last two months. But this evening’s news seemed different. More immediate and scattered. It sucked him in as if he were solving a puzzle.  His meaty fingers couldn’t keep up with the scroll of clues the website left behind. “Tractor trailers run on diesel. The trucks Walmart uses to deliver products run on diesel.”

“You know Jessica is out of food. And Walmart’s closed.” She wasn’t fond of Jessica. She saw her more as a competitor than a friend. But her online presence did make for good conversation. “I think the next closest grocery store is like 40 miles away.”

“Does she have a battery powered car?”

“No. Remember, she bought that Benz SUV because of all of her kids.”

“Oh yeah.” He reached for a hand full of chips and shoved them down his gullet. The doctor had said he shouldn’t eat in a reclining position. What did the doctor know. He turned his greasy fingers towards the flickering screen, smacked and rubbed it leaving colorful, translucent streaks behind. “Did she buy the G950?”

“How should I know. It’s the big one with lots of chrome.”

“Oh man, that thing gets 15 miles to the gallon! She’s gonna have one helluvan expensive shopping trip. Haha!”

The hum and brilliance from 5 bed 4 bath estate died and was immediately resurrected. The couple shot confused stares at each other momentarily and resumed their respective news consumption.

“Do you think we should be concerned?”

“About what?

“That Walmart isn’t supplying its store anymore.”

“No.”

“What if it lasts for a long time?”

“Honey, be happy you have a husband who plans for these sort of things.”

Her face turned blank. He recognized the look and felt compelled explain his plan.

“We have 2 months worth of food and water in the basement. We have enough gas to run our generator a month straight if we were so inclined. As soon as I saw that hurricanes were going to hit the Gulf, I stocked up on gas while it was cheap. I remember what Katrina was like. And then when all those earthquakes hit the west coast and Alaska, I ran out and stocked up on food and water.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?”

“I already told you this.”

“Do you think we’ll need all that?”

“I doubt it. Jim at work thinks I’m crazy for stocking up. But...whatever. It’s good to have it just in case.”

“In case of what?”

He nestled himself back into his soft leather Lazyboy, basking in self-satisfaction. “In case Walmart stops supplying its store.”

She was content with the answer and promptly resumed ignoring him. Jessica’s saga was far more fascinating than the boring gloat of her lethargic husband. She sat back into the chaise lounge of the sea blue suede sectional. She loved that couch. The color perfectly accentuated the shimmering sparkles from the oversized crystal chandelier that hung from their Great Room. However, she did tire of the draft the room created. She was a waif of a woman and lacked circulation. She went to go turn up the heat, but thought better of it. Maybe heating the entire house wasn’t the best idea tonight. Instead, she decided to unfold the flannel blanket. She covered herself and immersed herself in Jessica’s ongoing drama.

“Oh my God.” The wife’s crow’s feet smoothed as her eyes widened. “Oh my GOD!”

“What is it?” he said with modest interest. He too enjoyed Jessica’s antics.

“I think they’re looting the Walmart.”

“Yeah,” he said unaffected as he continued his furious news intake. “There have been been pockets of looting around the country recently. The blacks and Mexicans mostly.”

“Babe!”

“Sorry” he said snickering. “What am I supposed to call them again? The poor?”

“No! They’re looting our Walmart.”

“What?” He flailed in his oversized chair, struggling to sit up straight.

“Jessica just posted pictures.” She waved her phone at him in a frenzy. He squinted as he tried to make out the images on her unsteady phone from across the room.  “All the storefront glass is broken. A car is on fire in the parking lot.”

“No.” he said as he reclined back into familiar indent in his chair. “That’s not our Walmart.”

“Yes it is!”

“She must have posted a link to a news story. You’re getting confused again.”

“No! No I’m not.” She looked at her husband’s third chin and realized he wasn’t getting up. She unwrapped herself and walked over to prove it to him. “That’s definitely our Walmart. See! That’s the kid’s mechanical car ride outside of ours.”

“What? No.” He studied the slideshow. It wasn’t a link. Missouri license plates. Mechanical toy car. “Springfield Walmart” sign hanging off the broken glass. She was right. He grabbed his tablet and searched for Springfield Missouri Walmart. This must be making national news. “Fucking niggers and spics. I knew we shouldn’t have let that subsidized housing plan pass.”

“This isn’t a race thing. Jessica posted a picture of Coach Wheeler running through the busted doors with a cart of canned goods and water.”

“The high school football coach? No way.”

“Look!” She pushed the phone in front of his face again. If the man’s trademark chiseled face and blond crew cut wasn’t proof enough, the “Bulldogs’ Football” sweatshirt he sported left no doubt.

“Christ. Maybe coaching those minorities rubbed off on him.”

He  rolled out of his chair and looked out the window. His street was quiet. They lived a good 10 miles away from Walmart. The police should be able to contain the madness there. They should be safe.

The lights cut out again. The pause in power was a full 2 seconds. Her face shifted from concerned to panicked. “Do you think we should get out of here?”

“Where should we go?” he asked indignantly.

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem safe.”

“All of our supplies are here. No, we don’t leave.”

“What if people loot us?”

“We live amongst good people!” he shouted. He had spent a lifetime becoming a self made man. Hard work and determination. That was all anyone needed to make it in this country. And he had it. He had no interest in giving up all the benefits of his work. He was employed by the best contracting company in the area. His co-workers were top notch, good people. The work afforded him and his wife to live in the best community in town. His morals and values were ubiquitous with neighbors, co-workers, and friends. He held his town to the same standard, working tirelessly to keep out the bad elements. He was safe here at home. He had to be. “Those people aren’t the people we know. They won’t come here. Nobody will loot us.”

“What if that mob gets closer?”

“The police should have this sorted out by morning.” He said the words, but wasn’t sure with all the mounting evidence. He marched down to the basement, unlocked his gun safe, holstered his pistol, grabbed his shotgun and shells, and rejoined his wife in the Great Room. Her jaw dropped. This was not the response she expected from him. “Just in case.”

She paced the cavernous room waiting for Jessica’s next update. He sat back into his Lazyboy, although refused to recline. This was not a time to recline. He switched his news source from Fox to the local paper websites. Nothing. They were a useless, ragtag bunch. Biggest news that has ever happened in Springfield and they were nowhere to be found.

“BABE!” The light emanating from the phone made her face look ghostly. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..”

“What is it?”

“Jessica said..” she paused. She was shaking. She tried to find the strength to compose herself but it was useless. “...an armed militia took over the Kum and Go on Rt. 125.”

“You can’t be serious. No. What did her post actually say. Read me what she actually said.”

She recited from her phone. “Can’t get gas. Guys with machine guns at 125 Kum and Go. Said they would open fire if we didn’t leave. They weren’t police.”

“This can’t be happening. Not like this.” He clenched his shotgun and took post at the cathedral window in their Great Room. Still Quiet. Street lights were lit. Some houses showed signs of life. But nothing on the street.

“I’m texting Jessica to come here.” The powerlessness of the situation overwhelmed her. “I’ll tell her she can have some food and gas.”

“NO!” A vein protruded from his forehead. “That’s for us. We can’t help them. We have to think about us.”

“They have kids.”

“I don’t care. Shit is going sideways out there. We can’t worry about them.”

“Fuck you! I’m texting her.”

He slaps the phone out of her hands. “No you’re not.”

A shattering noise stopped their argument. The cathedral window he was guarding laid in a thousand pieces all over their Great Room floor, shimmering sea blue sparkles. The transgressing item rested on their hardwood floor, covered in glass. It was a black Samsonite briefcase with a green name tag tied to the handle. He knew that briefcase. It was Jim’s.