Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"How long have you been here? Five years? The seventh year is always the really big one. Trust me!" Nick tackled the closet lock in professional fashion while dispensing advice. "You need a camp stove and kerosene heater in case of a long power outage... canned food, not frozen, in case you're snowbound... five-gallon jugs of water in case a water main busts... fresh batteries for your radio and flashlights."

"What do they do at the prison?" Qwilleran asked.

"We have generators. So does the hospital. Remember not to use your elevator after it starts to snow hard; you could be trapped in a blackout." Nick opened the closet door, collected his tools, and accepted Qwilleran's thanks, and on the way out he said, "If you're not concerned about yourself, Qwill, think about your cats."

Koko lost no time in entering the closet. It was filled with files in boxes and drawers, and a small safe stood open and empty. When Qwilleran left to go shopping for canned food, the cat was sitting in the safe like a potentate in a palanquin.

Throughout the weekend a storm watch was in effect, but Suitcase Productions presented all three scheduled shows to capacity audiences. By Monday afternoon Wetherby Goode announced a storm alert and said he was prepared for the worst; he had a sleeping bag in the studio as well as a package of fig newtons.

Monday evening Koko and Yum Yum began to behave abnormally, dashing about and butting furniture. They showed no interest in food or Robinson Crusoe. Eventually Qwilleran shut himself in his bedroom to escape the fracas, but he could still hear bursts of madcap activity. He himself slept fitfully.

Shortly after daybreak a peaceful calm settled on the house. Peering out the window, he witnessed a rare sight: the entire sky was the vivid color of polished copper. A weather bulletin on WPKX made note of the phenomenon and warned that it was the lull before the storm. Duck hunters and commercial fishermen were advised to stay on shore and resist the temptation to make one more haul before the end of the season.

By mid-morning large flakes of snow began to fall. Shortly after, the wind rose, and soon fifty-mile-an-hour gusts were creating blizzard conditions.

At noon the WPKX newscast announced: "A storm of unprecedented violence is blasting the county. Visibility is zero. Serious drifting is making roads impassable. All establishments are closed with the exception of emergency services. Even so, fire fighters, police, and medical personnel attempting to respond to calls are blinded by the whirling snow and are completely disoriented. State police have issued these directives: Stay indoors. Conserve water, food, and fuel. Observe safety precautions in using kerosene heaters and wood-burning stoves. In case of power failure, use flashlights or oil lanterns; avoid candles. Be prepared to switch radios to battery operation. And stay tuned for further advisories."

On Goodwinter Boulevard it was snowing in four directions: down, up, sideways and in circles. Strangely, the Siamese, having accomplished their advance warning, settled down to sleep peacefully.

At three o'clock WPKX reported: "Two duck hunters from Lockmaster left shore in a rented boat west of Mooseville early this morning and have not been seen since that time. Their boat was found bottom-up, blown high on the shore near Brrr... Distress calls from commercial fishing boats are being received, but the sheriff's helicopter is grounded in the blizzard, and rescue crews are unable to launch their boats in the mountainous waves. Thirty-five-foot waves are reported on the lake."

Then the power failed, and when Qwilleran tried to call Polly, the telephone was dead. The blizzard continued relentlessly, hour after hour, and he experienced the unnerving isolation of a house blanketed with snow. Without mechanical noises and without the sound of street traffic, the unnatural stillness left a muffled void that only amplified the howling of the wind, and a cold darkness settled on the rooms as snow drifted against the windows.

The blizzard lasted sixteen hours, during which Qwilleran found he could neither read nor write nor sleep. Then the wind subsided. The Big Snow was over, but it would take almost a week for the county to struggle back to normal. Broadcasting was limited to weather updates and police news on the half hour:

"The worst storm in the history of Moose County was the result of a freak atmospheric condition. Three low-pressure fronts - one coming from Alaska, one from the Rocky Mountains, and one from the Gulf of Mexico - met and clashed over this area. Winds of seventy miles an hour were recorded as thirty-two inches of snow fell in sixteen hours. Drifts of fifteen to thirty feet have buried buildings and walled up city streets and country roads, paralyzing the county."