by Skylar Finn
“You were?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I watched the whole thing happen. I didn’t get upset until they pulled her body ashore. I thought she was invincible. Thought she’d come up smiling.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”
“I was thirteen,” she said. “It should have scared me out of the water, but it didn’t. Actually, it had the opposite effect. I started surfing nonstop. I got up early, came home late, skipped school, skipped meals. I didn’t care about anything else. My dad hated it, but the only time I felt like a real human being after Mom died was in the water.”
“Then why’d you stop?”
She laid her towel out on the sand. “Because of my career. I thought after my short film made so many waves at Sundance, I’d be too busy. I was right. I didn’t have time to surf anymore, but not because I’d gotten my big break. I ran out of money. I worked nonstop. Don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, I do.” Walt sat on the towel and leaned back on his hands. The moonlight made his dark skin glow. “But I didn’t know you as well back then. I thought it was your new normal.”
Ailani opened a fresh stick of wax and applied it to the top of surfboard. “Screw it. I’m doing it. If the world’s ending, I might as well go down enjoying myself.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Ailani finished waxing the board and ran out into the waves without hesitation. It felt so natural. Walt was right. Her body remembered the motions. Instinctively, she lifted her body onto the board and paddled out. Her shoulders started burning within minutes, unaccustomed to the workout, but she kept going until she hit the first set of waves. One towered over her head, so she pushed her board down and nose-dove beneath it. When she came up on the other side, water poured off her skin. She felt alive for the first time in years.
She sat up and watched the ocean. Half of surfing was waiting for the perfect wave. She let a few go by, then a few more. A minute later, she spotted it. She turned around and began paddling. The wave came up from behind her and lifted the board. She popped up.
And fell off.
She emerged from the water coughing and spluttering. She’d forgotten what it was like to get worked by a wave. The board tugged at her ankle. She reeled it in by the strap, got back on, and paddled out again, not to be defeated.
It took five more wipeouts before Ailani remembered what it felt like to hit that sweet spot, the perfect time to set her feet beneath her on the board. When it finally happened, she yelled with joy and swooped down the face of the wave, following the patterns of the constellations on the water. Her excitement sent her shooting up and over the back of the wave too early, but she tucked her knees into her chest and canon-balled into the ocean for smooth finish.
“Yew!”
It was the universal call of excitement from one surfer to another. Ailani looked across the waves to see another girl waiting on a set. When Ailani made eye contact, the girl lifted her fist into the shaka sign. Ailani waved back. The girl paddled over.
“I’m Sage,” she said, holding out a damp hand for Ailani to shake. “That was a great wave.”
“Thanks, I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Really? You look like a natural.” Sage balanced perfectly on her board, her body moving instinctively in reaction to the water. “This is crazy, isn’t it? The blackout?”
“Crazy, for sure.”
“I don’t usually risk coming out here,” Sage said. “The cops chase us out because the rich people don’t like us in their backyard, but I couldn’t resist tonight. When’s the next chance I’ll get to night surf at Malibu with this view?” She spread her arms toward the sky. Without Malibu’s usual light pollution, the stars shone more brightly than ever before. “It’s amazing.”
“Yeah,” Ailani agreed. “For now, at least.”
Walt wasn’t on the beach when Ailani finally came ashore. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. The last few nights shoots had rearranged Ailani’s internal time clock. She wrapped her shoulders in a towel and lugged the surfboard to the house. It was dark and quiet. Everyone else had gone to sleep or at least moved the party to a private bedroom.
Walt wasn’t in their bedroom. Ailani wasn’t worried. He had a habit of exploring new places to get the lay of the land. Ailani started the shower, marveling at the running water. Even with solar power, Trip shouldn’t have been able to access city water. He must have found a workaround. Ailani kept it quick just in case. She wasn’t going to be the one to drain Trip’s water supply in one night.
By the time she got out of the shower, Walt had returned from his explorations. He had set up shop on the pull-out bed, bent over a collection of items he’d gathered from around the house. Ailani toweled off her hair and looked over his shoulder.
“Where did you get all that?”
He jumped at the sound of her voice. “I found it in Trip’s basement. Or the first floor, I guess. Whatever you want to call it. Do you know how much storage space he has down there?”
“He alluded to it. What is that stuff?”
Walt held up a small device. “Know what this is?”
“No. That’s why I asked you.”
“It’s a mesh network device,” he explained. “For off-grid communications. It doesn’t need satellites to work because it relies on low-frequency radio waves.”
Ailani examined the small antenna-like item. “Okay. So what?”
“So what?” Walt repeated. “Don’t you get it? With a few of those things, we could create our own communication network. All you have to do is hook it up to your phone. Trip has a whole box of them downstairs. Maybe he offered to promote them or something—”
“One problem,” Ailani interrupted. “Our phones are fried.”
Walt held up two fresh iPhones, still in the boxes. “Trip pretty much has everything a guy like me could possibly want. What are the chances these still work?”
“Slim to none. Besides, what happens when the batteries die on the phones?”
Walt pointed to another mysterious item he’d dug up from Trip’s things. “That’s a handheld, battery-operated solar cell. We can use it to charge the phones.”
“I thought you were opposed to stealing?”
“This is a worst-case scenario.”
Ailani wrapped her towel around her head and sat next to Walt. “How do these things work again?”
“To create a network, everyone we want to talk to has to have one,” Walt said. “I remember when these things first came out.”
“Do other people have these?”
“Yup. All over the nation.” He fiddled with the device, pulling out the antenna. “After Hurricane Sandy, the people who started this business decided to come up with a way to connect with each other if a natural disaster ever cut off communications. Good thing they did.”
Ailani unboxed one of the iPhones and pressed the power button. “No power. Tough luck. How do you know about this stuff anyway?”
“My uncle,” Walt replied. “He went nuts when these things were first announced.”
“The weird uncle?”
“Xavier,” he said. “I used to call him Uncle X because I couldn’t pronounce his name when I was little. Anyway, he’s my dad’s brother, and if you knew my dad, you’d know he doesn’t tolerate anything different, even if it’s family. Uncle X believed in all sorts of conspiracy theories. He thinks the government is trying to kill us all for profit.”
“Not entirely unfounded,” Ailani muttered.
“So he lives in this weird commune in Northern California,” Walt said, tinkering with the mesh network device, “with a bunch of other people who also think the government is trying to kill or bankrupt them. They’re completely off grid. I’m talking their own power and water supplies and everything else.”
Ailani searched through the clothes Trip had brought her for something that resembled pajamas. “Have you been there?”
“I lived there for fi
ve years.”
“Really? When?”
“My dad kicked me out of the house when I was fifteen,” Walt said. “I had nowhere else to go, and Uncle X was cool with me. I ended up with him.”
Ailani decided to wear one of Trip’s old T-shirts to bed. “Everything about you makes so much more sense now.”
“Who’d have thought it would take an EMP bomb for us to actually get to know one another?”
She bounced into bed and propped her head on her elbow. “What other secrets do you have?”
“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.”
“Pass. For now, at least.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Walt gave up on his new toys and put them in a cardboard box for safekeeping. Then he slid the box under the bed. Ailani grabbed the extra batteries for the old video camera and plugged them into the solar cell to charge. She didn’t expect it to work, but the red light on the battery charger popped on right away.
“Do you think your uncle’s commune is still up and running?”
“I guarantee it,” Walt said. “Uncle X and those other weirdos were practically waiting for something like this to happen. Why?”
“What are the chances we can make it there?”
He turned off the camera and set it aside. “It would be one hell of a hike. It’s miles away. We’d have to weigh the risks versus the benefits.”
“Weigh them.”
Walt leaned against the headboard and hugged a pillow to his chest. “We don’t know what it’s like outside L.A. It could be better or worse. Trip said we could stay here as long as we want. We have food, water, and shelter. If you want my opinion, I don’t see the point of leaving when we have such a good setup here.”
“It’s too easy,” Ailani said, joining Walt near the pillows. “I’m waiting for something terrible to happen.”
“It already did.”
Ailani traced a flowery pattern embroidered into the edge of the pillow. It wasn’t Trip’s style. “I want to go outside and film tomorrow. This could be a huge opportunity for us.”
“As long as you listen to me,” Walt said, “and be careful.”
“Be careful,” Ailani mimicked.
Walt smacked her with a pillow, and the towel tumbled off her head. Quick as a flash, she darted off the bed, rolled the towel into a whip, and snapped it in Walt’s direction. He squealed and used a body pillow as a fort to hide behind as Ailani attacked again.
The Malibu neighborhood that Trip lived in was relatively quiet compared to the rest of Los Angeles. Trip’s neighbors were all rich or famous like him, so most of them had the same solar-powered amenities or had already fled elsewhere. Around noon, Walt and Ailani took the video camera out on the streets. They weren’t the only ones investigating the consequences of the EMP on the outside world. Ailani filmed up and down Trip’s street, occasionally stopping the neighbors to ask for impromptu interviews. It didn’t go over well with the neighbors.
“No, you certainly don’t have permission to film me!” one woman said, holding her hands up to cover her face. By the look of her elastic cheeks, she spent more money at her plastic surgeon’s office than for emergency disaster materials. “My Botox hasn’t set yet.”
“Ma’am, we just want to know how you’re getting by after the EMP blast.” Ailani hurried after the woman with Walt on her tail, holding the camera. “How have you compensated for the lack of water and electricity?”
“EMP? What’s that? Some kind of terrorist thing?”
“It could be terrorists,” Ailani said. “We won’t know until the government finds a way to share national news with us again.”
The Botox woman stormed off, yelling, “Dave! The terrorists turned off our friggin’ electricity!”
Ailani made a noise like a growl in the back of her throat. “This is pointless. No one in Malibu is going to be aware of what’s going on out there. We should check out the rest of L.A.”
Walt shouldered the camera. “I don’t think it’s the best idea. L.A. was dangerous enough before the EMP. It’s going to be worse now.”
“No one said video journalism was easy,” Ailani told him. “All of the greats put themselves right in the middle of the mess to get the story they wanted.”
“Since when are we video journalists?”
“Since today. Let’s go.”
Before venturing out of Malibu, they stopped at Trip’s house to stock up on supplies. Ailani filled a backpack with water bottles, snack bars, and extra camera batteries. Walt wore a pair of combat boots that Trip had from another movie. As he tied the laces, Ailani pushed his shoulder.
“We’re not shipping off to ‘Nam, dude.”
Walt checked the fit of the boots. “I’m not taking any chances. Didn’t you see all those crashed cars on the way here? There’s glass everywhere, and I don’t want a shard of it to end up in my foot. Don’t you dare wear open-toed shoes.”
Ailani swapped her sandals for a heavier pair of tennis shoes, and they were on their way. The Malibu neighborhood was separated from the rest of the riff raff by a huge wrought iron gate. Without electricity to power it, it was stuck shut. Thankfully, Ailani had found a back way into the gated community yesterday, through the intricate landscaping that bordered the front houses. She and Walt snuck through their secret passageway and emerged onto the streets.
Back on their bikes, they rode west along the Pacific Coast Highway. Ailani manned the camera while she guided her bike with one hand, filming the abandoned, broken cars that littered the highway. Every once in a while, she caught sight of a body, but she turned a blind eye. Despite what she’d told Walt about wanting to capture the consequences of the EMP, she wasn’t ready to examine that sort of thing up close. The smell coming off those cars was bad enough.
An hour later, they arrived in Santa Monica. Here, as Walt expected, things were much worse off than around Trip’s house. Every store window had been broken, with things stolen from inside. People roamed the streets, checking cars for food and water. The homeless, Ailani soon realized, were the best prepared for the cataclysmic event. They had already been living without instant access to food, water, and shelter. Some of them shared their knowledge with the newly minted homeless. Others preferred to keep their methods to themselves.
“Here, here,” Ailani said, dragging her foot along the pavement to stop her bike. She handed Trip the camera. “Something’s going on at that corner store.”
“Ailani, are you sure about this?”
“Don’t be a baby. Come on!”
She placed his bike next to hers, hidden between two crashed cars, then dragged Walt toward the store. A commotion had erupted inside. As Ailani neared the doorway, two men catapulted through the front window, showering Ailani and Walt with glass. Walt grabbed Ailani’s arm, pulling her away from the men. A crowd of people poured out of the store. Each individual carried as much merchandise as they could carry. Apparently, it was one of the few stores in the area that still had items to steal.
“Did you get that?” Ailani asked Walt breathlessly.
“Yeah!”
The man on top of the tussle—a wiry fellow with long gray hair and a black beanie—pummeled his fist against the other man’s face. His opponent, who was significantly larger but without prior knowledge of street fighting, grunted as the punches landed. He tried to upseat the wiry man from where he straddled his abdomen, but the wiry guy held on fast with his knees. He delivered blow after blow until—crack!—the portly man’s nose broke with a sound like a gunshot. The wiry man reached into the other man’s jacket and extracted a bag of Cheetos and a protein drink.
Then the large man pulled a revolver from his pocket.
Walt ran. Ailani seized the back of his jacket and grabbed the camera from his hands, spinning around to catch the next bit of action. The wiry man jumped off his opponent, raising his hands as he backed away from the guy with the gun. He still had the Cheetos.
“Hey, man,” the
wiry guy said. “Come on. It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“You broke my fucking nose.”
He pulled the trigger. The bang echoed through the street, and screams went up on all sides as anyone in the vicinity scattered. Ailani, on the other hand, froze in place. She stared as the wiry man looked down at his abdomen and watched blood spread across his gray T-shirt. The Cheetos dropped out of his hand.
“Ailani!”
Walt’s voice jarred her out of her reverie. She felt him tug at her hand, and suddenly her body worked again. She let Walt lead her away from the scene, back to their bikes. They started riding away as fast as possible, and though the wind coming off the coast was chilly, Ailani couldn’t feel it. She was completely numb.
4
The incident at the corner store convinced Ailani of what Walt had been trying to tell her. In a couple of days, post-EMP L.A. had gone from startled to apocalyptic. The streets were dangerous and growing more so with every passing minute. The police were thin on the ground. There weren’t enough officers to cover the whole city, especially when the number of violent crimes had increased so quickly. The emergency medical teams were likewise afflicted. Once, Ailani heard the familiar scream of an ambulance siren from Trip’s balcony. She rushed outside to see the oldest rig known to man navigate the destruction on the streets. Over the course of several days, the broken-down cars on the streets were pushed aside to make room for additional emergency vehicles to get by. The rigs with no electrical components had survived the EMP, but Ailani wasn’t sure it mattered much. Where were the ambulances taking people if the hospitals had no electricity either?
The moment outside the corner store kept flashing through Ailani’s mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the portly man through the viewfinder of the camera as he pulled the trigger and shot his aggressor in the chest. She heard gunfire in her dreams and woke up wondering if there was someone outside with a gun. Walt started sleeping in her bed rather than on the pull-out couch. It helped to have someone trustworthy next to her, someone who had instinctively known what was going to happen at the corner store.