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Nick went back to the warehouse to make sure that everything was battened down for the storm. He and Jean had gone through a few more helpers since the Great Fire. There were so many opportunities opening up every day that people could eagerly move on to whatever interested them. His latest assistant, Macon, was working in the office. He was a middle-aged, short, thick-boned man with inky-black skin. He’d arrived during the winter looking half-starved and frostbitten, but he’d been happy to lend a hand anywhere. Over the winter, he’d filled out a little, but his hair had gone bone-white.
“Everything okay?” he asked as Nick entered the office.
“Storm coming in. Do you want to head home?”
“I’m fine here,” Macon said turning his attention back to the paperwork.
“Looks like the flu is only hitting women this year,” Nick said uneasily. “I’m going to have to ask you to help me with some of the stuff that Jean was working on.”
Macon glanced at the piles of papers on his desk. “Surely, I’d be happy to help out, but do we need to get somebody in to do my stuff?”
Nick sighed. “I don’t know if we can. I think we’re going to be short handed for awhile.”
He heard the rain pattering on the warehouse roof. If they were lucky, the storm would pass through quickly. He went to Jean’s desk to see what needed to be dealt with immediately. While he still did the bartering with the partners, Jean was in charge of the day to day business. “Do you know if the supplies went out for the Rovers and Sentinels?”
Macon came over to Jean’s desk to help sort through papers. “I think the shipment for the Sentinels went out yesterday. Jean had staggered it because we lost a driver. Hmm...and I think the only driver we have now is Red Lucy.”
“Is she here?” Nick asked nervously. He hurried into the warehouse with Macon right behind him. There was an enclosure by the loading bay doors where the drivers and floor crew took breaks. Someone had dragged in an old kitchen table with mismatched chairs and a lumpy old sofa. Red Lucy was seated at the table, her head pillowed on her folded arms. She was limp when Nick tried to shake her awake. “Damn. We need to get her over to the clinic.”
Macon stared up at the increasing racket on the roof. “Sounds like hail. Maybe we should wait.”
Nick had to agree. There wasn’t anything that would endanger her if they waited until the storm blew over. They carried her over to the couch and left her sleeping peacefully. The noise of the storm increased.
“We gonna lose crops?” Macon asked.
Nick’s heart sank. He peered out the bay door to see golf ball sized hail bouncing off the pavement in the loading area. “Looks like we might.”