Dunston Falls Read Free Page B

filled a mug, then took a seat at the table opposite the doctor. “How many have showed up so far?” Peck said.
    “Maybe thirty, but they’re still rolling in.”
    “What can you squeeze out of your generator?”
    McCoy glanced at his pad. “I was just figuring that. At two hour intervals, I have enough gas for three days.”
    “And no woodstove for backup.”
    McCoy shook his head. “This is a hospital, not a hunting lodge.” At thirty-five, McCoy was slim of build and average in height. His sandy hair was medium in length, his brown eyes soft in nature. His ears were a bit too large for his face, but not unappealing to look at. “It’s going to get cold in here when the gas runs dry.”
    Peck removed his cigarettes and lit one. He mulled the situation around in his mind. “We have some gas cans in the basement garage, but it’s not enough to run the hospital and church for more than a day or so extra.”
    McCoy stood up to refill his mug. “I could use it.”
    Peck said, “I’ve been out all day. Is there any news on the storm?”
    The lounge door opened and Father Regan walked in. “I just had my transistor radio on. It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he said. “And by the way, does anybody have some extra 9 volt batteries?”
    “I might have some,” Peck said. “I’ll check. If not, it might be a good idea to get the drugstore open.”
    “I have an extra key around here someplace,” McCoy said. “I’ll take a look and give it to you, Dave.”
    Peck nodded.
    McCoy filled another mug with coffee and offered it to the priest. Regan took a sip and made a face. “That’s awful, Tom.”
    “But hot,” McCoy said.
    Regan took a chair next to Peck. The priest was a tall man of fifty, with broad shoulders and no fat on his waist. His thinning hair was brown and speckled with gray. A twinkle shown in his blue eyes that had a calming affect on his parishioners, as did his soothing voice.
    “How are you doing, father?” Peck said.
    “I’ve got three dozen families living in the church basement. I need cots, blankets, food and heat, but most of all heat.”
    “How are you on gas?”
    Regan shook his head at Peck. “Not nearly enough. Three days if I conserve.”
    “Conserve,” Peck said.
    McCoy sat down and looked at Peck. “We have to be able to do something other than conserve, Dave? Maybe we can send somebody to the paper company for help?”
    “That’s a forty five mile trip,” Regan said. “Each way. No one will make that in this storm.”
    “Yeah, but they have those trucks which could drive through anything. They could load up on supplies and be here in two days,” McCoy said.
    “I could try to reach them by radio,” Peck said. “In the meantime, we have to do whatever we can to make sure people are safe. That means we do whatever it takes.”
    Father Regan and McCoy looked at Peck. In unison, they nodded their heads.
     
    A fire crackled in the woodstove in the corner of Peck’s office as he lit a cigarette and looked at Bender and Ed Kranston. Warmth radiated from the stove and spread throughout the room, raising the temperature to a comfortable level.
    Bender sat behind his desk and doodled on a pad with a pencil. Kranston occupied the chair opposite Peck’s desk. Peck looked at the town manager and waited for him to speak.
    “My bones,” Kranston complained. “Something happens to a man when he turns sixty. It seems impossible to get warm.” He removed a fresh stick of gum from his pack and placed it in his mouth.
    Peck reached into the bottom desk drawer for an unopened, bottle of scotch. “Will this help?”
    Kranston looked at the scotch. “That’s the bottle I gave you for Christmas.”
    Peck removed the seal and twisted off the cap. “Got any glasses, Jay?”
    Bender opened a desk drawer and removed a sleeve of plastic cups. “From the Christmas party,” he explained.
    Peck poured two fingers of scotch into three cups, and then gave one cup to