He walked up to the mudroom door, careful not to disturb the planks and stared into the night.
Nothing.
The storm prevented him from distinguishing the Sheppards’ house directly across the street through the mix of sleet and rain. No ambient light emitted from any source within the neighborhood.
I wonder if this is localized?
Although he looked into the sky, above the houses, given the thick weather conditions, he doubted South Portland’s lights could be seen on the northeast horizon, even if they were still energized.
Alex didn’t look forward to fumbling around the basement, not that it would be any darker than where he was currently standing. Just the thought of going down into the basement at night made him feels uneasy. His first order of business would be to make sure the bulkhead door was still locked, and that none of the telltales he had left near the bulkhead entrance had been disturbed. Once he convinced himself that the bulkhead door had not been breached, his worries would be reduced to the occasional spider web, and the ever present, completely unreasonable feeling of panic that might accompanied anyone into any dark basement.
“I hate going down there without the lights,” he whispered and pulled a powerful compact LED flashlight from his right front pocket.
***
The next morning, bright sunlight poured through the sliding doors behind the kitchen table, and Alex set a steaming mug of coffee down on the kitchen island. The microwave blinked the letters “PF” as another reminder of the frightening power failure the night before.
Outside, the storm gave way to an ethereal—almost other-worldly landscape. The ground shimmered with color and light as the sun’s rays scattered through millions of ice-encased blades of grass. Larger reflections sparkled from the ice that burdened the branches of the bare trees and empty bushes, pulling them closer to the ice-encrusted ground.
The evergreen trees sagged, and he saw several snapped evergreen branches throughout the yard. Most of the maples and birch appeared intact, aside from the loss of some smaller branches. He imagined there must be heavy damage to the large trees across Harrison Road, which had stood for nearly half a century and towered over the homes there.
Without thinking, Alex moved the wooden bar jammed into the sliding door’s track and opened the glass slider. He took in the cold air for a few seconds and stepped out onto the deck holding onto the doorframe for balance. The entire deck was covered by a one-inch-thick slab of ice.
Don’t be stupid here.
He tested his footing and decided that the icy surface was rough enough for him to slowly walk across to the railing on the opposite side. Reaching the other side, he used the railing to navigate the steps down to the icy grass. The grass crackled under his weight; every blade individually encased in ice. A distant cracking sound, followed by a loud crash echoed through the quiet yard causing him to duck.
Maybe this isn’t the best idea.
Alex scanned the horizons. The eastern sky held a thin, white layer of high altitude clouds barely visible over the distant tree line; the western sky told a different story. A solid mass of dark gray, extending north and south along the horizon, loomed nearly overhead, making it clear to him that the sun’s rays would probably never get a jump-start melting all of the ice. He started carefully back up the stairs.
***
Later that morning, Alex watched his son from the kitchen island. Ryan had been staring at the backyard for the past ten minutes. The snow had started falling steadily about an hour ago and had picked up intensity over the past twenty minutes, joined by sporadic bursts of wind.
“You gonna grab something to eat?” Alex asked.
Ryan slowly turned his head toward the kitchen, still in a daze. “Uh…yeah. Can I make toast? Or does that use up too much electricity?”
“You could make toast if we had any bread left,” Alex said.
“Oh,” Ryan said and plopped down on one of the island stools.
“Or if your mom ever dusted off the bread maker in the basement. We have everything we need to make it.”
“How long do you think the power will be out, Dad?”
“Pretty long time. Longer than we’re used to. I’d be willing to bet that the ice knocked down a bunch of lines. With the flu out there, I’d be surprised if CMP had the manpower to make a dent in repairing the downed lines.”
“So…can I play Xbox?”
“Not all day. We’re gonna try to figure out how much battery power basic stuff like that will drain from the system. Right now, let’s shoot for an hour of playtime, then we’ll see about adding time. Who knows? We might be able to run the TV up there all day and not have to worry. Right now all we’re running is the fridge, which we really don’t need, the furnace and some computer equipment. Everything else is unplugged for now,” Alex said.
“Have you tried the cable?”
“Sorry, buddy. Cable TV is dead. Good news is that the internet still works. I’m still running power to our router,” he said optimistically.
“Good, I can still go live on the Xbox,” Ryan said.
“I don’t know how many other people will be on there anymore.”
“There should still be a bunch of people outside of New England. There’s usually people from all over.”
“Maybe, but probably not for long. Most experts estimate that large portions of the country’s electrical grid will fail within the next few days. Fuel deliveries to the power plants have been sporadic or non-existent for the past few weeks, and most plants are using up all of their reserve coal to keep operating,” Alex told him.
“We’re really gonna be here for a long time, aren’t we?” Ryan replied wistfully, staring out at the near-blizzard conditions.
Alex nodded his head.
Chapter 36
Alex stared at the dark ceiling, listening to Kate’s deep rhythmic breathing, unable to find sleep. Despite the overwhelming exhaustion bearing down on him from the previous evening’s scattered sleep, he was too anxious to drift away. Every time he started to slide into an unconscious haze, another paranoid thought struck, triggering a small adrenaline rush.
The paranoia hit him as a desire to check and re-check the doors, the windows, and his Jerry-rigged alarm system. If he got up and actually checked on the house, he’d start an obsessive cycle. Instead, he lay there, accepting the finite amount of rest granted by almost falling asleep, over and over again.
Drifting off, he jerked awake, fully convinced that he’d heard a noise from downstairs. He peeled away the blankets and comforter, careful not to wake Kate or Emily, and sat on his side of the bed.
There’s nothing down there. I know it.
“I’ll just listen at the top of the stairs,” he whispered to no one, taking his pistol off the nightstand.
Twenty minutes later, convinced that nothing was wrong, he sidestepped the alarm contraption next to the railing and entered his office, leaving the door open. He turned on the swing arm desk lamp and lowered the arm until it was only several inches off the desk. Most of the light was cast directly onto the desk, and not the rest of the room.
If I can’t sleep, I’ll surf the web until my eyes fall out.
Alex spent the next hour alternating between staring at his computer screen and listening intently to a completely silent house. From the computer he managed to assemble an ominous picture of the situation in the Northeast. The storm had swept along the eastern seaboard and tangled with arctic air north of New Jersey starting late Saturday night. Gradually, over the course of Saturday evening and early Sunday morning, the arctic air dominated most of the Northeast, wreaking havoc on New England.
Widespread power outages were reported across Maine, and state authorities offered little hope that the power would be restored any time soon. ISPAC officials expected regional power grids to fail within a week as critical power plants ceased to generate power. Rolling blackouts prior to permanent darkness could be expected on a regional and then nation
al level. ISPAC officials urged the Department of Energy to take steps to regionalize blackouts and prevent a nationwide failure.
CDC and ISPAC officials predicted absenteeism to peak during that same week, topping 90% nationwide, as the population isolated itself in fear of the H16N1 virus.
It’ll be higher up here with this storm.
He couldn’t imagine anyone beyond the National Guard, medical community, or police leaving their homes. Alex turned off the computer screen and lifted the window shade a few inches to stare out of the window.
Nothing.
Astonished that he couldn’t see the trees less than forty feet from the house, he considered the criminals hunkered down at the Murray’s. Probably burning their firewood.
I don’t think he ever got a delivery of firewood this fall.
Alex envisioned the Mansons sawing apart Greg’s dining room furniture to toss into the fire and shook his head.
They’ll run out of furniture in a day or two—then they’ll be on the prowl again.
He shut the shade and resolved to get some desperately needed sleep.
***
Alex felt Kate stir in the bed. She got up several seconds later, kissed him on the forehead, and replaced the covers. Bright sunlight poured into the bedroom from the transom windows, and Alex struggled to move, fighting the grogginess to check his watch.
Ten in the morning.
He wasn’t surprised to see the time, since he barely slept the night before. The toilet flushed in the master bathroom, followed by water running in the sink. Kate emerged from the bathroom. She walked over to the front windows and raised the shades.
“Hey, looks like the plow made a run down the street. It’s all clear. We got a lot of snow,” she said.
Alex rose up onto his elbow and squinted at her over the blankets. “Two feet, they thought. Is the street really cleared?”
“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to do something about the driveway. The plow made a wall at the end,” she said and turned toward the open bedroom door.
He knocked off the covers and sat on the side of the bed facing the door. “I never heard it come down the street. Usually sounds like a 747 crashing into the neighborhood.”
“None of us had a chance to hear it through your snoring. You were dead to the world this morning. The kids got up early and went back to their rooms it was so bad,” Kate said.
“Sorry. It’s been a long couple of nights,” he said apologetically.
“You should really crash out some more. You need the rest.”
“No, that’s okay, I need to get up and move around. If you get some coffee started, I’ll cook up some pancakes,” he promised.
“You read my mind. I’ll get everything going,” she said and disappeared through the door.
Alex stood at the side of the bed and raised his arms in the air, stretching his hands toward the ceiling. He leaned over and reached for the floor, coming nowhere remotely close to the carpet.
I need to start stretching again.
“Hey, hon?” he heard from somewhere down the hallway.
“Yes?” he responded, pushing the stretch further.
“Am I gonna get hurt trying to take this thing apart?” she asked.
He straightened his back and walked toward the door. Down the hallway, he saw Kate standing at the top of the stairs.
“No, just take the cans off, and step over the trip line. I’ll move the line in a minute,” he said.
“Okay, I just didn’t want to get hit in the head with a paint can or something,” she said, walking down the stairs cautiously.
“Very funny.”
She stopped a quarter of the way down. Alex could still see her head. “Before you do anything, check all of the doors, and make sure nothing is disturbed.”
“All right,” she replied, and he detected a shift in her tone, from playful to cautious.
Chapter 37
Alex watched the second snowstorm of the season taper to a wispy, indecisive powder. Sipping lukewarm coffee, he tried to gauge the amount of fresh snowfall lying undisturbed on the street. The chance of a snowplow coming by again had to be minimal.
Kate emerged from the master suite bathroom wearing a white knee-length cotton robe. Her black hair, still wet from a shower, draped over the robe and behind her shoulders.
“Nice shower?” he asked, hoping his tone hadn’t come across wrong.
They hadn’t seen more than a few hours of solid sunlight since the first storm, and Alex had watched the Power Cube battery status shrink at a predictable, yet slightly alarming rate. As of last night, the Power Cube’s LED showed the battery reserves at fifty-three percent, which was a marginally comfortable level for him, given six days of impenetrable cloud cover. With two or three clear days in the forecast, the system should regain most of the lost charge. Either way, he planned to make a few suggestions to stretch the battery life during long overcast stretches of time. Robbing Kate of a long, relaxing hot shower was not one of his immediate suggestions.
“Beyond excellent. It’s amazing how good a hot shower feels after going a few days without one,” she said.
“Yeah, we’re pretty lucky. There won’t be many hot showers in this neighborhood for quite a while,” he acknowledged and kissed her lips.
“I’m not hugging your rifle,” she said, holding his shoulders and avoiding the AR-15 rifle slung barrel up behind his back.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t like anyone handling her but me.” He kissed her again.
“I guess I have more in common with her than I thought. She still sleeps on the floor though,” Kate said.
“Fair enough. Besides, there’s no more room in our bed with Emily sprawled out between us,” he said and walked toward the front window next to the office.
“No kidding. I keep expecting Ryan to crawl in next. How much snow did we get?” she asked.
Alex reached the window and stared down at the street. “Easily another foot. Foot and a half maybe? It’s hard to tell from the house.”
He peered between the Sheppards’ and Bradys’ houses with the binoculars and focused on the Murray’s chimney.
“What are you staring at?” she asked, moving up next to him.
“Murrays’ house. See the other houses with chimneys? How most of them are puffing white smoke?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there was smoke coming from their chimney yesterday afternoon, and now there’s nothing.”
Kate shrugged her shoulders.
“I have a theory. I think they’re out of wood, and if they’re out of wood, there’s going to be trouble. I saw the Coopers out yesterday with Max, and I’m pretty sure they were moving their wood indoors. I guarantee they’re not the only ones that have spent a little time over the past few days safeguarding their only source of heat—especially after the Mansons’ daylight wood gathering foray,” he said.
“We’re really going to be dealing with them for the rest of the winter, aren’t we?”
“Pretty much. I don’t see them going anywhere.”
“This has really changed things for us,” she stated flatly.
“Look on the positive side, maybe they’ve scared Todd and any of the remaining Fletcher haters out there. The loop has been pretty quiet.”
“Yeah, but I feel like more of a prisoner than I did before. It was bad enough when it was just the flu and Todd’s crew, but now we can’t go outside or stand near our windows without worrying about being shot. It’s ridiculous.” She walked back toward the main hallway.
Alex followed her and wondered if they were both visible from the street. He doubted it, especially with the screens still in place. Kate stopped and turned around to face him.
“This doesn’t bother you? You spend most of the day and night dressed like a commando—spying out of our windows and talking to all of our equally stressed out friends on the block. How can we continue to live like this?” she said with her hands on her hips.
�
�I don’t really see how we have a choice. Shooting them in cold blood on the streets isn’t the answer. It might solve the problem for now…”
“I think it would completely get rid of the problem,” she said.
“Temporarily, but we’d still have a house full of women and children over there. We can’t exactly walk them at gunpoint to the end of the block and tell them to beat it.”
“They can drive out of here.”
“Nice. At some point we’ll have to answer for it.”
“Answer to who?” she asked.
“I just can’t justify it, Kate,” he whispered. “Deep down I want to do it, but I can’t get past the fact that it would be murder.”
“More like a preemptive strike. You said it yourself—it’s only a matter of time before they kill or hurt someone around here. Nobody would hold it against any of you. Charlie…or Ed.”
“I wouldn’t involve Ed,” he said, “and I’m not sure about Charlie. I’m worried that he’s way more talk than action.”
“Hey, you go to war with the army you have, not the army you want,” she said, cracking a smile.
“Thanks, Rummy. Right now, I’m gonna keep watching. We’ll figure something out. I don’t want to keep doing this all winter either.” He adjusted the rifle sling on his shoulder.
“I just don’t think you should wait much longer. They have to be getting more and more desperate by the day, and it scares me to think that our house would be the ultimate prize for them, Alex.”
“For anyone. That’s why I don’t think it’ll matter. Even if we get rid of this one group, we won’t be able to let our guard down,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You’ll be able to let it down several levels. Before they showed up, I think you were just keeping yourself busy, and having some fun with it. It’s completely different now.”
Alex grimaced. “Yeah, it’s very different,” he admitted.
“You should enjoy a hot bath or a nice hot shower and then take a long nap. You look terrible. I don’t know how long you can keep this up, but it’s starting to take a visible toll. I’ll rub your back, too,” she said, concerned.
THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5 Page 29