From the crowd, there was a murmur, getting louder. People had spilled into the lobby and through the emergency room doors. People sat on gurneys and newspaper bins. Someone was bleeding, a bright red trail that streaked across the floor. I began to hear distinct voices, popping up above the crowd like Lisbeth’s treble when she led the choir. Not going to stand for this... How much more...

We went to Walmart.

3

We had to park clear at the end of the lot, by the Chinese restaurant, which was closed. A hand-lettered sign in the window read No Heat. We walked quickly. The pavement was frosted over, the reflections of streetlights buzzing in the icy puddles on the ground. Strangers joined us, their shoulders down, a tautness to their jaws like an arrow’s string. It made me think of Lobo, Lobo mad. I heard a thudding, which I realized was Grayson’s leg in the cast, striking the pavement.

“I should have dropped you off at the door,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He would never be able to wear coveralls with that thing. How would he stay warm?

“I have to get used to it. That’s what the doctor said.”

There was no greeter at the entrance to the store. I grabbed one of the last remaining carts, whipping it past a woman who cursed at me. I muttered an apology.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Grayson said.

Inside, our boots squealed on the floor, crossed with slushy tracks. We were only a few steps into the store when I realized I could see my breath.

“They turned the heat off?” I said.

“Probably never turned it on. Big place like this, it must cost a fortune to heat. No wonder the schools closed.”

People and carts clogged the aisles. It was more crowded than even the first of the month, when support checks came in, and everyone who could afford to shopped with their tiny bit of money from the state. Mama had taught me not to go to stores then.

Everyone looked gray as overwashed clothes, exhausted and faded, their eyes turning up at the shelves as if they held the answers. This was another reason I didn’t like to come to town. There was too much suffering.

There had been suffering here forever, even before the cold came. Long ago, we had been forgotten in the holler, forgotten and left to make it on our own with no jobs, no hope of jobs. Now, cold wrung the worst from us. People snapped at each other, impatient, panicking over milk. All the women looked like my mama: grease-colored hair, faded pretty faces. The bright displays of the store, which had always looked garish, now seemed obscene.

“I don’t know what to get,” I said.