Electro

by David Lisenby

  “I hope there won’t be any sound effects with this one,” Arlene said as she smiled at him. She thought it was cute that he turned a crimson red at her comment.

  “Fine,” Levi said, trying to sound hurt. “I’ll just eat my breakfast in silence.”

  He took another big bite and chewed animatedly.

  A light rain was falling outside the alcove, but not nearly as intense as the day before and through the night. Arlene knew that she had to continue her journey and she dreaded having to do it in the rain. She reached in the bag and pulled out a granola bar to have for her breakfast. She opened the package and took a small bite. She looked at Levi and they both chewed in unison. Quietly.

  The sound of the dirt bike echoed in the distance. Levi turned and looked around, seeing only the cedar board fence and a little slice of the feeder road in his limited field of view. He stepped between the two trash cans and out into the light rain. Again, he looked around, with a somewhat better view than he had before. Not enough to make much difference, though. He walked around the corner of the building and was gone.

  Arlene’s heart sank. She had only met this young man a few hours earlier, yet she felt such a void as she listened to his footsteps fade away into the distance. She stood and took a step out of the alcove. She looked around the corner of the building and didn’t see anyone. Levi had left her to fend for herself. After she had given him part of the little food she had. What a little snot!

  She returned to the semi-dryness of the little alcove and bent over and grabbed her pocketbook. She opened it to find her handgun still inside. She draped the strap over her head and onto her shoulder. She draped the strap of the first-aid kit over her other, clutching her plastic bag in her free hand. Shaking her head in disgust, Arlene stepped out of the alcove and started walking.

  She was eastbound and down. She had a long way to go and a short time to get there. Some childish, chiseled man wasn’t going to slow her down no matter how good-looking he was.

  Arlene had almost reached the overpass that was about a quarter-mile from the little abandoned building when she faintly heard someone yelling behind her. She paused and then turned to look over her shoulder. Levi was jogging toward her with a grin on his face.

  “Wait up, Arley,” he said loudly.

  Arlene was actually pleased and excited to see him. “My name is Arlene and I’m not your babysitter,” she spat at him.

  “I sure wish you were,” he laughed. She turned and started stomping away.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She stopped again but didn’t turn back to face him. She had to remain turned away so he couldn’t see the smile on her face. She composed herself and regained her stoic look by the time he caught up with her.

  “Look,” he said as he reached her and grabbed her by the hand … by the soft, warm hand. “We’re both headed in the same general direction. You’re going to Buna. I’m going to Caney Head. I was thinkin’ that we could keep each other company for a while before we get to the split.”

  She was so relieved but didn’t say a word or change her expression. ”Wouldn’t you like to have a big, strong man with you to protect you from … from … from whatever you might come across to frighten you or rip you apart?” Levi said with puppy-dog eyes. “Please.”

  “I don’t need a man,” Arlene said through clenched teeth. “I have this.” She held up the aforementioned handgun from seemingly nowhere.

  Levi released her hand and took a step back. He looked genuinely rejected.

  “But I guess you can tag along as long as you don’t think I’m going to feed you for the entire trip,” she finally said in a softer tone. “I might find some use for you along the way.”

  Levi grinned from ear to ear. Together they started walking. East bound and down.

  - - -

  Bobby Jones slowly opened his eyes; not much more than a squint. His head was pounding. He was confused and disoriented. He looked around the small, crumpled remains of the fuselage around him.

  To his right was twisted metal, inches away from his head. Before him was a busted windshield. He watched for a moment as a droplet of water began inching its way up the windshield, gaining momentum and girth as it made a zig-zag trail on the cracked glass.

  He turned his head slowly until he saw the bloody pilot strapped in his seat with a rather large shard of wood protruding from the center of his forehead. He could tell by the look in his eyes that he probably died instantly. He had seen that same look all too many times before.

  The pale faces of all those young men that he had served alongside in Viet Nam paraded before his eyes. There were so many of them who had died in his arms while he tried in vain to save them. All the medic training he had gone through hadn’t prepared him for the ugliness that he had seen during his two tours on the front lines. He wanted to help them … to save them … but all he could do was give them morphine injections to help ease the pain as they crossed over into the mystery of the next life.

  His mind focused on the face of one of those young men. He had been a good friend. He could see vividly the way the light in the soldier’s eyes faded away into an empty, blank stare. Bobby could see the deep red blood drops running down the young soldier’s face and fall onto his combat jacket; onto the patch with O’Neil stitched into it. Slowly the patched transformed into a different blood-stained patch.

  C. C.

  Bobby painfully reached up and felt around. His legs were numb. He fumbled around until he felt the hard metal of the seat belt buckle imbedded in his lap. With a quick pull it came undone, tossing the aged man to the roof of the small plane beneath him. With a loud thud he hit hard. That thud was the last thing he heard as he faded off into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 9

  Revelations

  Harold kneeled by the open hole in the ground and peered into the depths of the buried 55-gallon drum. Beside him lay a hoard of treasure. There were two-way radios, hand-held ham radios, an assortment of weather radio’s, two hand-held police scanners, solar battery chargers, re-chargeable batteries, spotlights, a few camp lights, a plastic container that housed an assortment of fuses and relays, and an amp meter. The rest of the items in the lower portion of the barrel were items he was sure he would need sooner-or-later, but for now it wasn’t really a good idea to unpack the entire container.

  He replaced most of the items carefully back into the barrel, only keeping one pair of walkie-talkies, one of the ham radios, two of the solar chargers and a pack of re-chargeable AA batteries.

  Harold replaced the lid onto the barrel and scattered more leaves and pine needles over the area he had disturbed. Once he was confident the lids weren’t visible, he grabbed his booty and headed to his mancave.

  Once inside, the items were placed on the desk. There wasn’t really much sunlight, but Harold opened the chargers and batteries first. He filled each charger to capacity and laid them on the window ledge to get as much charge in the batteries as possible. He then opened the little ham radio and the walkie-talkies. He opened the battery compartment to each one and laid them back onto the desk. He figured the batteries in the remotes still held enough of a charge to at least get the radios up and running.

  Harold walked into the kitchen and then took and immediate left to go into his and Kay’s bedroom. He grabbed a couple of the remotes off the headboard and turned to walk back into the kitchen. He stopped for a moment and listened, recognizing that neither Kay nor Roxie were in the kitchen, dining room or the bedroom. All he could hear was the humming of the fan and the fridge in the kitchen.

  That was odd.

  As he walked through the house, Harold laid the remotes on the table and then walked into the living room. He could her Roxie talking in his mom’s room and felt a bit of relief. It wasn’t like the two women were going anywhere, but not knowing where they were with so much crap going on made him feel uneasy, for some reason. He stuck his head in the partially-opened door.

  “Ya’ll need anyt
hing?” he asked as he looked around the dim room. He noticed that his mom was still sleeping, and her breakfast plate appeared to be untouched.

  “We’re good,” said Kay. “I wish I could sleep that peacefully,” she added as she nodded toward Alice.

  “Amen,” Harold said. “I’m rounding up all the batteries I can.”

  “The tv remote is on the table,” Kay responded softly.

  “Can you fetch a pail of water to do the dishes with?” Roxie asked.

  “Sure will, Jill,” Harold smiled over to her.

  “Thanks, Jack,” she smiled back.

  Harold backed out of the doorway as Roxie and Kay resumed their conversation about … um … whatever they had been talking about. He went to the table and retrieved the batteries from the remote, stuffed them in his pocket and went back to his mancave.

  As he stepped into the room he heard the sudden blast of a shotgun outside, somewhere near the Shannon place. Then he heard another. And another. In all there were five shots fired in succession.

  “Probably those dang dogs goin’ after their chickens again,” Harold thought to himself. “Guess I better keep an eye out on my little flock.” He walked back into the bedroom and retrieved his .22 from the closet. He checked and made sure there was rat-shot in the magazine. He didn’t want to kill any dogs, but they would definitely learn a lesson if they went after his chickens.

  Back in his mancave, Harold propped his rifle up against the wall in the corner nearest the back door. He made quick work of inserting the batteries into the radios. A quick check of the walkie talkies indicated they were working properly. Of course, he’d have to get Roxie to keep one at the house and walk up the road a little way to ensure the signals were putting out strong enough to be effective.

  He then tried the ham radio. He turned it on and adjusted the settings to scan the channels for any signal he could capture. For the next hour he sat there listening. There was occasional chatter (thank God) that provided more info than Harold had before, but everything seemed to be assumptions and speculation.

  He had tried to raise the people talking on the other end, but his little radio only allowed the user to communicate in a 2-3 mile radius, although he could receive signals from much further than that.

  After a little while Harold figured he had learned about all he could for now. The voices on the radio seemed to start repeating the same information over again, only with more voices joining in saying the same things in a different way. There were theories about exactly what happened, but nobody apparently had a clear-cut answer. He figured he would check back in a bit and see if there was anything new.

  “Where’s my water?” Harold nearly jumped out of his seat when Roxie suddenly opened the kitchen door and yelled inside the mancave.

  “Crap,” he said as he reached and grabbed the teetering radios on the desk before they fell over. “I’ll go get it here in a sec,” he finally replied to her.

  “Good,” she retorted. “What you got there?” Roxie walked into the room like a curious cat, never taking her eyes off the radios.

  “Communication,” Harold said. “I’m gonna’ need your help testing the walkie-talkies, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, holding out her hand in anticipation of being able to play with the little electronic toy. “You need to get my water first, though.”

  Harold handed her one of the hand-held radios and stuck the other one in his pocket. “The radio is already set where it needs to be. Just push that little button there to talk back to me when you hear me say something.”

  Roxie rolled her eyes. “You think I ain’t never played with a walkie talkie before?”

  Harold started to reply with some smart-aleck remark before he thought it best to not push things too far. He walked over to the back door and pointed outward.

  “Water,” he said as he left the house. He returned a few short moments later with a five-gallon bucket of water. He sat it on the counter next to the sink and said, ”Ready, Rox?”

  “Go ahead,” she said from the bedroom. He went into the room, seeing that the two ladies were busying themselves folding clothes. Obviously, this was the last load of towels that had been in the dryer. Likely it was the last load that dryer would ever tumble. He sat on the edge of the dresser.

  “I was listening to the ham radio,” he said. Both ladies stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

  “And?” Kay asked.

  “It sounds like there actually was an emp, but nobody seems to know how it happened or who was responsible,” he answered. “Some believe it was a terrorist attack, probably by ISIS. Some think it was Russia or North Korea. Some think it was domestic. Some think it wasn’t an attack but an act of God, like a solar flare or something similar.”

  “What do you think?” asked Kay.

  “I don’t have any idea,” Harold admitted. “It really doesn’t matter how it happened. All that matters is that it has happened and we are going to have to figure out what we’re going to do now.”

  “And what’s that?” Roxie interjected into the conversation.

  “First we’re going to test these radios,” said Harold in a serious tone. “Then I’ll gather up a few things that I believe we’re going to need from outside before the rain starts again. Then … then we will sit down and make a game-plan. Together.”

  “I’ll make another pot of coffee,” said Roxie.

  “Now that sounds like the best plan for now,” Kay said.

  Harold went over to the closet, opened the door and stepped inside. The ladies saw the light come on in the room and then some shuffling about. The tap-on light shone through the doorway. There was more shuffling and the sound of something small and hard hitting the floor.

  Harold stepped out a minute later carrying a belt and a holstered 9mm pistol. He inserted the belt in the slit in the holster, wrapped it around his overalls and secured it to his side. He could feel two pairs of eyes on him. He reached back into the closet and pulled out his .22 pocket pistol and held it out toward Roxie.

  “What you want me to do with that?” she asked as she looked at the gun.

  “Whatever you have to,” Harold said. Roxie slowly reached up and took the gun. “Just in case.”

  Silence.

  “I don’t like this, Babe,” Kay finally said.

  “Neither do I,” Roxie added.

  “Neither do I,” repeated Harold. “Don’t worry. God’s got this. We just have to believe in Him and do our part.”

  Harold looked at his worried wife. Even stressed she was beautiful. He looked at Roxie, who was also worried. “One step at a time,” he said.

  He walked over and hugged his wife as he softly kissed her atop her head. Her short brown hair smelled like strawberries. He knew there was really nothing he could do to quell her fears, but he knew he would do anything he could to ensure she was alright.

  “I’m going to go across the road and let Calvin know what I found out,” Harold said as he stood up. “Then I’ll walk down the road to make sure the signal on these radios will reach at least a mile.” He looked over to Roxie, who nodded in understanding. “I’ll let you know when I’m done at Calvin’s and then check in when I reach the highway.” he said.

  “10-4,” Roxie replied. “What should I call you on the radio?”

  “Harold,” he laughed as he walked toward the door. He pointed the antenna of the radio toward her. “This isn’t a covert mission.”

  A couple of minutes later the two men stood in the middle of the road talking. Calvin wasn’t surprised when he was told of the radio chatter Harold had heard. It wasn’t like they had discussed this very topic many times in the past; just as they had discussed what each of them would do if they won the lottery. They discussed lots of hypothetical situations.

  This was no longer hypothetical, though. “Why couldn’t you have just hit your numbers,” Harold jeered.

  “Right,” Calvin said. “But then I’d be worrin�
� ‘bout how to spend all that money.”

  “Dang, Neighbor,” Harold said. “You’d complain if they were gonna’ hang you with a new rope.”

  “Yep,” came the reply. “Don’t matter if it’s new or old. It’s still gonna’ get you in the end.”

  The two men stood there in silence for a short time, both looking at the green satsumas that filled the citrus tree in Harold’s front yard. “How long you think this is gonna’ go on?” Calvin said with a serious tone to his voice.

  “I have no idea,” was the response. “I’ve heard it would take about a year to rebuild the electrical grid as long as other countries help out. It really all depends on how widespread it is and if we could count on help from anyone. Think about it; America is weak now. We’re vulnerable. This is the perfect time for anyone that hates us or our way of life to take over and change everything.”

  “You really think it’s that bad?” Calvin asked.

  “It’s bad,” Harold said solemnly. ”No matter what happens after this life will never be the same. We have to watch out for ourselves ‘cause nobody else is going to.”

  “Yup,” Calvin said.

  The two men stood talking for a few more minutes. Both assured the other that they would work together through the situation. Calvin knew that he had things in his yard that Harold would eventually need and that Harold had things that he’d need – like eggs. Harold was fully aware that it would be best to keep everyone in the neighborhood as an ally. He and Calvin were probably on better terms with each other than anyone else, so he was going to be kept in the loop on any new info.

  Besides, Calvin liked to talk to all the neighbors and he was the best way to spread any news.

  “Come in Harold,” Roxie’s voice crackled from the radio, causing both men to jump. “You got your ears on? Over.”

  “10-4,” Harold spoke into the radio. “What up?”

  “You gonna’ stand there yakkin’ all day? Over.”