“Grandpa can handle himself,” Darryl replied. “He’s pretty good at surviving out in the wilderness, isn’t he? He told me he’s trekked through the Yukon and stuff.”
“Yeah, I’m not so much worried about Tuck,” she said. “He’ll get by. It’s your dad. I’m just worried he won’t listen to Tuck because of all the…you know, the bad blood. And poor Emma, that girl was raised a townie her whole life.”
“Yeah, but I know she was studying some kind of website before she left on the trip,” Darryl said. “Learning survival techniques.”
“Good,” Grandma said, and then, much quieter, “she may need them.”
Darryl saw the electric fence in the distance, the golf cart still parked beside it where it had died the night before. Most of the cows were behind the fence, grazing and milling about as if nothing was wrong. There was no sign of the missing calves. They had wandered far enough afield that Darryl couldn’t see them anywhere.
“You know, there are plenty of edible wild plants up where they’re camping,” Grandma said. “Burdock, chicory, knotweed, peppergrass—there’s never a reason to go hungry up there, no matter how long this lasts, but they’ll have to listen to Tuck. He’s the only one who really knows what to do. I hope a bunch of silliness from the past doesn’t get in the way.”
“You really think this power loss could be affecting them all the way up in the mountains?” Darryl asked.
“It’s a possibility,” she replied. “Something prevented him from calling last night, and that’s not like your dad.”
Darryl’s mind kept going back to the dead cell phone, dead battery, sparks on the electric fence, ANPRIM. What possible weapon could they have used to cause all of this? Was there a way to overload the entire power grid in such a way that it would jump even to electronics that weren’t plugged in? This was more of his mother’s area of expertise.
Grandma fell back into brooding silence, scowling at the ground, which was fine with Darryl. His guts were flip-flopping, and talking about the problem didn’t make him feel any better about it. They walked far out into the field, past the electric fence, into a hilly area cut by the meandering gravel driveway that led from the house to the nearest road.
Whatever they did to the power, surely it’ll get fixed soon, Darryl thought. Hopefully, sometime today, because this whole thing sucks. How am I supposed to get any of my work done? It was hard enough before the power went out.
A strange sound came to them then. At first, Darryl couldn’t tell what it was, some echoing animal noise bouncing off the distant mountains. It came and went fairly quickly.
“Did you hear that?” Darryl said.
“I did,” Grandma replied.
“That wasn’t a cow.”
Grandma shook her head as Darryl looked around for the source of the sound. To his right, he saw movement near the tree line. At first, it was practically an optical illusion, but he stared at it for a moment and realized what he was seeing. Two small black-and-white calves moving in and out of the shadows under the branches.
“Hey, Grandma, I think that’s them,” he said, pointing. “There’s our wayward calves.”
She shaded her eyes and stared in the direction he was pointing for a few seconds, then suddenly she gasped.
“Good eye, Darryl,” she said, clapping him on the back. “I wouldn’t have seen them if you hadn’t pointed them out. I guess my vision isn’t what it used to be. Come on. Let’s go retrieve our kiddos.”
She headed off in that direction. As Darryl followed, he heard the strange sound again, a faint, warbling echo that seemed to be coming from multiple directions. He heard it a third time just before they reached the calves, and it gave Darryl a profoundly uneasy feeling that made his skin crawl. This time, he was fairly sure he was hearing a human voice. Was someone screaming, shouting for help, dying?
The calves seemed fine. As they got close, he could tell they were cold, sticking close together, but they appeared to be safe and healthy. Grandma raised her hand and made a little beckoning gesture at them, and the calves immediately trotted over to her.
“There you are, good girls,” she said, putting an arm around either of their necks. “Now, what are girls doing wandering around all night? Let’s get you back to your mama.”
When the strange sound came a fourth time, Grandma gazed off in the direction of the driveway and shook her head.
“What is it?” Darryl asked again. “What’s wrong.”
“Our nearest neighbor lives in a cabin just down the road from us,” she said. “You can’t see it from here because of the trees, but it’s not far. He’s an old man, and he’s disabled. His name is Horace.”
“You think that’s him making that noise?” Darryl said.
“I sure hope not,” she replied, “but he lives all alone over there.”
Darryl tried to envision an old, disabled man all alone in a cabin with no power, no phone to call for help. What if he’d fallen and hurt himself? What if that sound was his desperate attempt to get someone, anyone to come to his rescue?
“Would it be okay if I went and checked on him?” he asked. “You can take the calves back by yourself, can’t you?”
“If you’ll wait, we can drive over there together once your mom replaces the battery on the Jeep,” Grandma said.
As she started back toward the electric fence, the cows trotted along behind her like puppies. The calves were usually sweet-natured little critters. Darryl started to follow, but he couldn’t shake the awful feeling.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go ahead and check on him,” he said.
“When I said it’s not far, I meant by car,” she said. “His house is all the way to the road and almost half a kilometer down.”
“I don’t mind,” Darryl said. “If he’s sick, hurt, trapped somehow…”
He let the possibilities hang in the air, and finally Grandma sighed and nodded. “Okay, go ahead. Follow the driveway to the road and head east. His house is set back a little bit, but you’ll see his mailbox. The man’s name is Horace Bouchard.”
“Got it. I’ll be right back.”
5
Darryl headed toward the road, moving at a brisk pace, even as the last echo of the distant screaming faded once again. When he reached the gravel driveway, he took off at a jog, moving from the fields through a dense stand of trees, before finally coming to the edge of the property. Here, the driveway of his grandparents’ expansive property connected with a major road.
There was no traffic on the road at the moment, but he kept to the shoulder as he headed east. The ranch was fairly isolated, the road meandering kilometers north of Highway 16 in a deeply forested area. Still, Darryl knew there were small towns in either direction, so he was surprised as he walked along to see not a single vehicle on the road. Had every vehicle in the entire area suffered the same fate as the Jeep? Was such a thing even possible?
Finally, he spotted the battered aluminum mailbox sitting at an angle on its crooked post in the distance. The name H. Bouchard was neatly displayed along the side in reflective white letters. As he approached the mailbox, he heard the sound again, but now he was close enough to tell for sure that it was someone shouting.
He turned at the mailbox and followed a winding dirt road through the trees. About fifty meters from the road, he found an overgrown yard with an old two-story house sitting in the middle. Darryl approached the house, mounted the porch steps, and knocked on the front door. Then, he heard the voice, this time very clearly.
“Help! Help me!”
It seemed to be coming from upstairs. The poor guy had almost shouted himself hoarse. Darryl tried the front door and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open, he saw a dim interior, the living room well-kept and orderly, though all of the furniture looked old and worn.
“Sir?” he called out. “Where are you?”
“Up here,” came the reply.
On the right, a wooden staircase curved up to the second floo
r. Darryl moved through the living room, past a recliner that had duct tape in numerous spots and a small, dusty television on a metal stand. He climbed the creaking stairs to a second-floor hallway. As he ascended, he spotted a metal track running alongside the stairs.
He found Horace lying on the floor near the top of the stairs. He was a gray-haired man with a deeply lined face. He seemed like he might have been fairly athletic in his younger years, but he was bent with age. The man was wearing black shorts, and Darryl realized he was missing both of his legs below the knees. The poor guy also seemed thoroughly exhausted, crumpled against the baseboard and sweating.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Horace asked, out of breath.
“I don’t think so, sir,” Darryl replied. “I’m the grandson of Tabitha Healy, your neighbor. We heard you shouting.”
“All the way over there?” he said. “I guess I was louder than I thought. Been shouting all morning, hoping some passing car would hear me.”
“Are you hurt?” Darryl didn’t see any sign of injury, though the old guy looked like he’d been struggling for a while.
“My stair lift stopped working,” he said. “I tried to get it running again, but it’s no good.”
The track alongside the stairs was connected to a small folding chair that was tucked against the wall. It had a control panel attached to the armrest with a couple of large arrow-shaped buttons on it.
“I know the power went out, but the stair lift has a backup battery,” Horace said. “I can’t figure out why it stopped working. My phone doesn’t work either. Nothing works, and my legs are downstairs. I’m afraid to try the stairs like this. If I fall, that could be the end of me. Would you get my legs? They’re beside the couch.”
“Sure.”
Darryl headed back downstairs and crossed to the worn-out old couch beneath the front window. Foam stuffing was poking through the upholstery along the edges of the cushions, and one of the cushions had been crudely patched with red yarn that didn’t match the brown color of the couch. Horace’s prosthetic legs were leaning against the armrest. They looked as old as the couch, with large plastic sockets full of foam padding, hinged knees, and prosthetic feet fitted into a pair of gray sneakers. Darryl grabbed them and carried them back upstairs.
“You’re a lifesaver, kid,” Horace said, reaching for the legs as soon as Darryl reached the top step. “I thought I might scream myself hoarse and wind up sitting here the rest of the day. No lights, no phone, no batteries. What the heck’s going on out there, kid? You know anything?”
As he spoke, he fitted the stumps of his legs into the sockets of the prostheses and tightened the strap. Darryl noted that his hands were shaking.
“I don’t know, sir,” Darryl replied, “but it’s the same at our house. All the electronics stopped working, even my cell phone. It was plugged in overnight, so I thought maybe it was a power surge that came through the wires. Not sure if that’s possible. But my grandma’s car is dead, too.”
“Something screwy is going on around here, then,” Horace said. “Something big. Help me out here, would you?”
He extended his hand, and Darryl helped him get to his feet. Then he walked with Horace down the stairs, though the old man seemed very unsteady. They took it slowly, one slow step at a time, and Darryl finally managed to get him settled in his easy chair in front of the television.
“I’m good right here,” Horace said. “No need to go upstairs until the power comes back on. Thanks.”
“Sir, do you need anything else?” Darryl asked. “Food, water, a blanket?”
“Nah, I’ve got plenty of food and water stashed away,” he said. “It’s not far. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, we’re just down the road if you need anything,” Darryl said. “I’ll try to come check on you tomorrow.”
Horace waved him off. “I’ll be okay. I got everything I need for the time being. But if you hear anything about what’s going on, let me know, would you? I hate being cut off from the news like this, even the CBC news, and I don’t take the paper.”
“If we hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Darryl excused himself and started the long walk back to his grandparents’ house. Somehow, helping the old neighbor had alleviated much of his anxiety, and he walked down the road feeling better. His stomach was no longer doing flip-flops, even though the road was as void of traffic now as it had been before. He had just come in sight of his grandparents’ mailbox when he saw someone walking toward him.
The girl was walking with her head down, her shoulders slumped, long black hair falling over her eyes. Dressed in a rumpled purple sweatshirt, she looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. It took him a moment to realize two others were walking behind her: a child in a pink coat with little cartoon moose all over it, and a gray-haired woman in a felt jacket. They all appeared to be related, a mom and her two daughters, perhaps. As the girl in the lead drew near, she must have heard Darryl’s footsteps on the gravelly road, and she looked up suddenly, brown eyes wide. When she saw his face, she seemed to relax.
The gray-haired woman was the first to speak. “You’re Tabitha’s grandson, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“Are you coming from town?” she asked. “Is the gas station open in Glenvell? Is there electricity there?”
“No, I was helping Horace Bouchard. The poor guy was trapped upstairs. I guess his stair lift got fried like everything else.”
The black-haired girl made a little wobble of her head that suggested she didn’t much care for Horace’s misadventures. He guessed she was maybe a year older than him. Her little sister seemed to be in a foul mood, and her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. The older woman was holding her hand and had a scowl fixed on her face, as if she’d had quite enough of absolutely everything.
“Well, in case your grandma has never mentioned us,” the black-haired girl said, “my name is Justine, and this is my mom and sister.”
“We’re your neighbors on the other side,” Justine’s mother said. “Your name is Darryl Healy, right?” When he nodded, she said, “We always know who our neighbors are. It’s smart.”
“I take it you guys lost power, too,” Darryl said. “No TV, no video games, right?”
His words seemed like they were going to make the little girl cry again, but her mom grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in close, stroking her hair. This seemed to help, and no tears fell.
“Yeah, we’re headed into Glenvell, if you want to come with us,” Justine said. “Dad already went there, but we don’t have any way to get hold of him. All of our phones stopped working, even our cell phones. How is that possible?”
“It’s aliens or the government, I’m telling you,” her mother said. Darryl chuckled, thinking she must be joking, but her faced remained deadly serious. She was a broad-faced and handsome older woman, with the big, strong hands of a rancher, not unlike Darryl’s grandma.
“Well, are you coming?” Justine asked with a scowl. “You might as well.”
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” her mother said.
And with that, Justine resumed walking. Her mother and sister followed alongside, and Darryl, on a bit of a whim, turned and went with them. Why not? What was he going to do at home except worry about their current circumstances and continue to avoid working on his college research paper?
As they walked along the empty road, towering trees rising up on either side, Darryl had the strange thought that they were the only people left in the world. He knew it wasn’t rational, but it was all so quiet and empty. Even the wind seemed to have settled down, as if the world were holding its breath. Darryl naturally fell in beside Justine as they walked, and they began to share their experiences of that morning.
“I tried to check my phone,” she said. “Nothing. Dead battery. But Mom’s phone was dead, too, and Sadie’s iPad that she got on our trip to Calgary. She cried a lot about that one. What about you?”
<
br /> Darryl proceeded to tell her the story of the wayward calves and the screaming Horace Bouchard, though she seemed to be only half-listening. She was friendly enough, and forward enough to keep the conversation going, but there was something in her body posture and the low tone of her voice that made her seem either tired or defeated—possibly both. She seemed to like letting her hair fall in her face, and as she walked she dragged her feet so that the soles of her sneakers scraped on the road.
Is she sad about the power going out, or is there something more to this? Darryl wondered. Of course, he didn’t dare ask. He wasn’t particularly shy, but he also wasn’t very good at small talk.
“So, what do you think about all of this?” he asked, gesturing at a nearby telephone line. “The power, I mean.”
Justine shrugged. “It’s annoying, but the power has gone out before. Maybe there was a bad wreck, and a truck hit a transformer and caused a power surge. Who knows? I mean, it’s never been this bad before, but whatever the cause, even if it’s aliens”—she glanced over her shoulder at her mother and frowned—“the power company will eventually fix it, when they remember we’re out here.”
“I hope you’re right,” Darryl replied.
“It just doesn’t really matter,” Justine muttered, dragging the toe of her shoe through a small pile of gravel. “More of a pain in the butt than anything, no matter what some people think.”
Justine’s mother grunted, as if she knew this comment were directed at her. There was an uncomfortable family dynamic at play that Darryl didn’t fully understand. Yes, the power had gone out, but why did these people all seem so dour and unhappy?
Around the bend Darryl spotted the first vehicle that he had seen on the road all morning. It was an old silver Dodge Durango, parked at a strange angle in the westbound shoulder with the tail sticking out into the lane. Oddly, the driver’s door was wide open, as if it had been abandoned suddenly. He saw no sign of the driver or any passengers.
EMP: Return of the Wild West Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 4