by Skylar Finn
“This is just like that solar storm movie,” Ailani said again. “Do you think it’s going to get that bad?”
Walt gazed out the window. The sky was filled with smoke from the blown transformers all over the county. The stars were no longer visible. “I hope not.”
“You think it was an EMP, don’t you?”
Ailani could read Walt like a book, and they shared almost every idea that crossed their minds. During the solar storm movie shoot, Walt had gone above and beyond in his research. There were two reasons for Earth to be plunged into total darkness. One was a coronal mass ejection from the sun. The other was an electromagnetic pulse bomb set off in the atmosphere.
“I don’t want to think that,” Walt said. “But that’s the only explanation for this.”
“I’m sure the government has a protocol for this type of event,” Ailani said. “They’ll start cleaning up tomorrow, right?”
“I hope so. Otherwise, we’re screwed.”
2
Ailani slept through the mounting chaos outside, but not through Walt shuffling around the studio apartment when he woke up before she did. She covered her head with the blankets as he wiped their plates clean of Chinese food with a paper towel.
“What are you doing?” she groaned. “It’s early.”
“It’s noon,” Walt said, gesturing to the sun shining into the apartment from the balcony. “I’m cleaning. We have no running water, so we’re going to have to make do.”
She sat up, groggy-eyed. “There’s no water?”
“Nope. Water pumps rely on electricity.”
“How are we supposed to go to the bathroom?”
Walt stacked the semi-clean plate on top of the others. “You can still go, but there’s no way to flush. It’s going to get smelly in here fast.”
Ailani stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Sure enough, Walt hadn’t been able to get rid of his morning deposit. Ailani held her nose as she did her business.
“This sucks,” she announced in the common room.
“Yup,” Walt agreed. He carried yogurt, fruit, and juice across the room and opened the sliding door to the balcony with his foot. “This stuff is getting warm already. Let’s finish it. You want coffee? I have instant.”
She helped him set breakfast on the balcony table. “No, let’s save the bottled water we have. We might have to make it last longer than we think.”
They settled down to eat. A peaceful breeze wafted Ailani’s hair around her face. She swept it out of the way and looked at the view from their apartment. On a good day, she could see the ocean glistening in the distance, but today was not a good day. The air was filled with smoke from last night’s fires. It clogged the sky with unnatural gray clouds.
The situation on the streets was no better. Dead, busted cars blocked every intersection. Some accidents were worse than others. On the corner, a pickup truck had T-boned a small sedan, crushing the driver’s side. Both cars were empty. Where the victims had gone was anybody’s guess. On the opposite side of the building, a group of people were trying their best to reach a car that was blocked against the side of a building by a semi truck. A dog barked manically, trapped inside.
“This isn’t good,” Ailani muttered. “What are we supposed to do today?”
“Go to the studio,” Walt suggested. “We don’t know how long this is going to last, and we’re going to need all the resources we can get. We have access to the studio. We can use the restrooms there. They have first aid stuff and other things we might be able to pilfer.”
A uniformed cop appeared on the scene, not in a cruiser but on a bicycle. He dismounted near the crowd of people trying to rescue the dog from the car. The crowd parted to let the cop through, and he used his baton to smash the front windshield of the car. The lucky pup crawled into the cop’s arms, scared but safe. The crowd cheered the cop’s heroics.
“I wonder how long Sebastian kept everyone there last night,” Ailani said. “He’s such an ass.”
“Twenty bucks says he tries to film today.”
“I’m not taking that bet. Sebastian’s crazy enough to try it.”
Walt drained his juice cup. “Only one way to find out. Want to head over there?”
The walk to the studio was a hundred times more stressful than usual. Though Ailani and Walt didn’t have to avoid the crazy drivers that normally swarmed the roads, they did have to wade through the chaos in the streets. They passed more and more car accidents, trapped civilians, and rescue efforts. The blown transformers and ruined power lines had caused more trouble than anticipated. Nearby houses had caught fire, and they were still smoldering. There were no paramedics or emergency vehicles on the scene. No ambulances or fire trucks. What few people arrived in uniform rode bicycles, like the cop who had helped rescue the dog near their apartment. Ailani overhead a cop explaining himself to a teary mother.
“Our cars don’t work,” he said. “Even if they did, we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. Every street is blocked up like this one. It’s impossible to move farther than three feet. We’re working on getting the roads cleared, but we gotta do it with manpower. We’re trying our best.”
The crying woman, who had lost touch with her teenage son, was not to be consoled. “What’s going on, Officer? Why is this happening?”
“We’re trying to figure that out,” the cop answered. “For now, it’s best if you stay inside. Ration your food and water supplies. The city is trying to restore power as fast as possible.”
Walt let out a snort. “That cop’s either dreaming or lying.”
“Why do you say that?” Ailani asked.
“Transformers take a while to build,” he replied. “From what I’ve read, it takes forever to replace one. We’ll be lucky to have power in months, if not years.”
At the studio, Ailani and Walt ran into trouble. The security guards at the front gates didn’t recognize them.
“Ailani Ho,” she said for the tenth time, flashing her ID badge in the guard’s face. “And Walt Dailey. We’re PAs for the Sebastian Paris movie. Just let us in.”
“No can do,” said the gruff guard. His nametag read Sergeant, and Ailani wondered if that was actually his last name or he’d changed it to make everyone address him as so. “We had a ton of break-ins last night. Rabble-rousers causing trouble. Studio’s closed today anyway. Go home, kids.”
Ailani made eye contact with the other security guard, who shrugged. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than stand outside these gates?” she asked. “L.A is falling apart. You should manage your priorities better.”
“Nice try,” Sergeant said. “Run along now.”
“Let’s go, Ailani,” Walt said, pulling her hand. “It’s not worth it.”
Sergeant waved a mocking goodbye as Walt dragged Ailani away from the studio gates and around the corner. She wrestled her hand free from his.
“This was your idea,” she reminded him. “You’re going to give up that easily?”
“Of course not.” Walt scanned the studio’s perimeter. “But didn’t you notice? Sergeant and that other yutz were the only guards to report for duty this morning. No one else is here. Check it out.” He hurried around the corner and pointed. “The back gate is completely open. Shall we?”
He offered Ailani his arm, and she linked her own through it. They skipped through the back gates, not bothering to scan their ID badges at the security desk. Once inside, Ailani felt herself relax. The studio was empty. The “rabble-rousers,” as Sergeant labeled them, had already come and gone, breaking a few windows to get what they wanted. Without anyone there, the studio felt safer than the streets. There were no broken-down cars here and little evidence of last night’s events.
“Let’s check the set,” Walt said, ushering Ailani inside the warehouse they’d been working in. “Think anyone else is here?”
“Probably not,” Ailani said. “Everyone else was sane enough to stay home.”
Her statement proved correct.
The interior of the studio was just as deserted as the outside. Walt and Ailani made their way through the dark corridors with the help of their little LED flashlights, checking all the usual spaces for evidence of coworkers. Walt paused at the break room.
“Donuts.”
An extra box from yesterday sat on the counter. They each ate two, and though they were stale, it hit the spot just fine. They continued on, though Ailani wasn’t sure what they were looking for. Out of nowhere, an anguished howl echoed through the hallway.
“What was that?” Ailani said, whipping her flashlight toward the noise. “Do you think someone’s in trouble?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Walt led the way toward the sound. Someone was crying—sobbing—loudly at the other end of the hallway. They reached the door in question.
“It’s Sebastian’s office,” Walt whispered.
“What do we do?”
Walt knocked lightly, and the crying stopped with a hiccup. “Who is it?” a familiar voice demanded.
Ailani clenched her teeth. “Sebastian, it’s Ailani. One of the production assistants from the movie? Are you okay in there? Are you hurt?”
The door flung open to reveal Sebastian. His eyes were bloodshot, and he carried a bottle of expensive champagne. He took another swig before throwing himself at Ailani.
“Oh my God,” she said as Sebastian cast his full weight on her. “Walt, help.”
Walt heaved the drunken director upward. “Up you get, Sebastian. There we go.”
Together, Ailani and Walt managed to get Sebastian seated in the fancy office chair behind his desk. Sebastian burst into tears again. Ailani ducked out of the line of fire.
“His breath could light a barn on fire,” she muttered to Walt. “How much do you think he’s had to drink?”
Walt checked around the office and came up with another empty champagne bottle and several tiny bottles of liquor. “My bet is way too much. I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”
“Those aren’t all from tonight,” Sebastian slurred. “I keep the tiny bottles on set with me at all times.” He tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Can I have some water? My mouth feels funny.”
Ailani found a bottle of Swiss mountain water in Sebastian’s private fridge, uncapped it, and gave it to Sebastian. He ogled the lip of the bottle.
“I need a straw,” he declared.
“No, you don’t,” Walt said. “Drink up or stay dehydrated.”
Sebastian clutched the bottle and raised it to his lips, dribbling water all down his front as he attempted to drink from it. He smacked his lips. “Ahh, that’s nice. Oh, no.”
Ailani and Walt dodged out of the way mere seconds before Sebastian vomited all over the plush carpet beneath his chair. It reeked of alcohol and stomach acid.
“Everything’s fucked,” Sebastian groaned, bent over at the waist. “Everything!”
“The way to deal with it isn’t by getting wasted,” Ailani scolded him. “You should be smarter than this. You have a ton of stuff here to get by. Why didn’t you start stocking up?”
“Stocking up for what?”
“The freaking blackout,” Walt said.
Sebastian hurled again. “You think I care about some stupid blackout? I’m talking about my career! It’s a complete shit show. Do either one of you have cocaine on you? I’m out.”
Ailani felt the muscle in her arm clench. She wanted nothing more than to smack the privilege right off of Sebastian’s smug face, but it wouldn’t change anything, not even Sebastian’s perspective on life.
“No one except you cares about your career, Sebastian,” Ailani said. “Guess what? It doesn’t matter. Stop commiserating and get yourself together. Call your family. Volunteer in the community. Do something to prove you’re more than just a name on a screen. Believe it or not, film credits aren’t the only things that matter.”
Sebastian’s lip trembled.
“No,” Ailani warned. “Don’t start crying again.”
Too late. Sebastian’s waterworks resumed in full force. He cast aside the water bottle and returned to his champagne. Walt grabbed the water off the floor, capped it, and put it in his backpack.
“We’re not drinking that,” Ailani said. “He puked all over it.”
“It’s clean water,” Walt argued. “We can use it for something.”
They regarded the blubbering director. Ailani stepped farther away from the puddle of barf. “What are we supposed to do with him? We can’t leave him here. He’ll rot.”
“Like he deserves better?”
“He’s a human being, Walt.”
Walt sighed. “Fine. I have an idea.”
Five minutes later, they wheeled Sebastian—strapped to his office chair—to the main studio gates. Ailani tapped Sergeant on the shoulder.
“What the—?” Sergeant looked left and right. “I thought I told you kids to stay out of there. How did you get in?”
“Does it matter?” Ailani asked. She pushed Sebastian across the concrete. Sergeant caught the office chair to prevent it from ramming into his knees. “That’s our director. I’m sure you’re acquainted with each other. He’s your problem now. Enjoy.”
Sergeant noticed the vomit all over Sebastian’s shirt too late. “Ugh! What am I supposed to do with him?”
“You’re security,” Walt said. “Figure it out.”
“Wait!” Sergeant tripped over Sebastian’s chair as he tried to chase Ailani and Walt. “You can’t stay here. Get out of the studio.”
“Let’s face it, Sergeant,” Ailani said. “You can’t keep us out of here, so you might as well save your energy and stop trying. We’re not going to cause you any trouble. Relax. Chat with Sebastian. I’m sure you’ll find something to talk about.”
With twin grins, Ailani and Walt strolled up the studio’s main road, leaving Sergeant to deal with the consequences of Sebastian’s all-night binge. They returned to the warehouse.
“What now?” Ailani asked.
“We search the place,” Walt answered. “Take whatever we can make use of.”
They got down to business, starting in the rooms that were usually off limits to production assistants. They scoured offices, storage rooms, and sets for anything useful. Ailani collected unopened water bottles and snacks while Walt gathered first aid items, batteries, and tools. They stockpiled everything in one of the production offices that Ailani had the keys to, locking the door behind them just in case someone else came along. Sure enough, someone did. As Ailani and Walt toured the studio for a second sweep, they ran right into Trip Travis.
“Ailani!”
Trip engulfed her in a hug. It was no more comfortable than the one Sebastian had awarded her an hour earlier, but at least Trip wasn’t slobbering drunk. Trip let her go and extended a hand to Walt.
“Sorry, have we met?” he asked. “I don’t do too well with faces.”
“Walt Dailey. I’m a PA too.”
Trip nodded politely. “Thanks for working with us. Glad to see the two of you are okay after last night. That was crazy, right?”
“Crazy,” Ailani replied, looking Trip up and down. His usual celebrity demeanor was missing. For once, he wasn’t complaining about his hair or his career or the fact that his character wouldn’t say this line or that one. It made him seem… human. “What are you doing here?”
Trip shrugged and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “I guess I wanted to make sure no one got stuck here. Hey, I’m having a party tonight!”
“A party?”
“Yeah, it’s themed.” He spread his hands above his head as if presenting an invisible banner. “The End of the Fucking World! It’s going to be tight. You guys coming?”
“Uh.” Ailani exchanged a quick glance with Walt. “No thanks, Trip. It doesn’t sound like our kind of thing.”
Trip clapped Walt on the back. “Come on! It’s going to be everybody’s thing. Besides, I’ve got electricity and free food. What
could be better right now?”
“You have electricity?” Walt said. “How? The whole city’s dark.”
Trip winked mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to come over to find out. You have my address, right? It’s on my call sheets. I’ll see you there?”
“Yes,” Ailani agreed. “We’ll be there.”
“Great!”
Trip finger-gunned his way out of the corridor and disappeared.
“Why did you agree to that?” Walt asked. “You really want to go to Trip Travis’s stuck-up end of the world party? It’s probably going to be full of drugged-up morons like Sebastian.”
Ailani led Walt in the opposite direction of Trip. “Have you seen Trip’s house? It’s freaking huge. You’re not thinking of the big picture. If he has power, why not check it out? I’m thinking air-conditioning, a shower, and not overflowing our toilet at home.”
“Shit, you’re right.”
“I know I am. Hey, check this out.”
They arrived at another storage closet, one that Ailani only entered if she was running an errand for the camera or audio guys. It was an equipment room, usually full of cameras, microphones, stands, batteries, lights, and anything else one needed to film a movie. The storage closet was so large that the shelves disappeared into the darkness. Ailani shone her flashlight across the first few shelves. Things were missing—a lot of things.
“Guess we figured out why those people broke in,” she said. “They stole whatever they could carry. I wonder how much money the studio lost in equipment.” She tapped an empty space on shelf. “This camera alone cost thirty-six thousand dollars.”
“Joke’s on them,” Walt said. “What’s the point of lugging around all that equipment when it’s useless? No power to charge the batteries.”
“Sell them to someone too stupid to realize that?” Ailani ventured farther into the storage room, taking mental inventory of what was missing. “I bet everyone thinks this power outage is temporary.”
“It’s day two and we haven’t heard a word from the new channels or the government,” Walt pointed out. “If it was an EMP, this is semi-permanent.”