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it.”
    “But it’s too late,” Kim pointed out. “Everyone’s scrambling for dry goods. Buying out stores. But stockpiling correctly takes years. There’s a science to it.”
    Chris scratched his jaw. “I think people are getting real nervous. I want to make one more trip to Walmart tomorrow before they run out of food.”
    “Walmart is going to run out of food?” Cody’s eyes were wide. “Is that possible?”
    Kim sighed. “You wouldn’t believe what we saw coming back into Georgia. Riots. People shooting each other for nothing. A knock-down, drag-out fist fight over pickles. Hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if people looted all the stores and then started barbecuing their own dogs and cats.”
    Chris looked back and forth between Kim and Iggy and said, “We need regular patrols along all fence lines now. I expect it won’t be long before people start trying to steal our livestock.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, sprinkled with gray at the temples, and then he looked at me. “Maybe you and Cody could start helping out with that.”
    “Absolutely,” I agreed and Cody nodded. I thought my uncle might be overreacting, but I was willing to earn my keep.
    “Iggy. Start working on rotation schedules and let’s see if we can get this going by tomorrow night. Brad and Gina have nowhere to work as of now since their boss left Georgia today, so you can add them to the schedule.”
    She nodded. “Will do. I’m going down to grab the meat for tonight’s chili. I figure I can at least get the beef cooked before Jamie gets home.” She turned to me and Cody and said, “Follow me. I’ll show you where we store the food.”
    Beneath the staircase that led to the new wing was a door I hadn’t noticed before. When we stepped through the opening, florescent lights flickered on automatically, revealing a steep staircase. We followed it down into a huge, cinder block room. My jaw dropped and Cody gave a long, low whistle. The place was its own warehouse food store. Rows of metal shelves filled half the room and were stocked with canned goods, cleaning supplies, and toilet paper. Lining the walls were more than a hundred labeled, plastic tubs in which dry goods were sealed. Opposite the shelves were deep freezers and refrigerators that were probably packed full of food. Iggy headed for one of the refrigerators. She yanked open the door and grabbed family-sized packages of ground beef. She handed them to me and had Cody follow her into the rows of shelves, which rose almost to the ceiling. She passed him several cans of crushed tomatoes and beans before loading up herself and leading us out.
    “What’s behind that door over there?” I asked, tipping my head toward the only door in the basement.
    “That’s the gun room,” she told me. “We have about two hundred weapons in stock. Plus ammo. I’ll show it to you one of these days.”
    I glanced at Cody, whose eyes were bulging. He shook his head and followed us up the stairs. He told Iggy, “Well, if the zombie apocalypse hits, you guys are well prepared.”
    “We have enough supplies to keep the fifteen of us – correction, nineteen of us – comfortable for approximately two years. Assuming nothing happens to the livestock.”
    “How long have you been collecting all this stuff?” Cody asked her.
    “More than ten years now.”
    “But why?”
    Iggy led us back out into the hallway near the kitchen. “Because we always knew something like this was gonna happen. The signs have been around for a while. It was just a matter of time.”
    My parents had told me about their stock supply, but I’d had no idea the extent of my aunt’s preparation. Cody looked as though he thought Iggy and her family should visit a psychiatrist.
    While Iggy cooked the meat, I diced onions and shredded cheese, and Cody helped Kim and Chris unload their truck. They made several trips to the basement and back, carrying all types of guns and boxes of ammo. When Jamie breezed in