The Grid Goes Black (Super Pulse Book 1)

by Dave Conifer

  “They don’t know who they’re dealing with,” Carlo said. A large ring on one of his fingers pinged loudly as he casually rapped the barrel of a huge weapon with his hand.

  “What in the world is that?” Dee exclaimed from the passenger seat. “It looks like something Rambo would use.” Roethke turned for quick look and saw a thick tube, with something resembling a pineapple or a football on the end.

  “RPG. Rocket-propelled grenade. And yes, Mr. Stallone did fire off quite a few of these, as I recall,” Carlo said. “I guess you could say they were giving them away for practically nothing at the armory last week. Drive steady now, Professor. Slow it down, but keep moving so they don’t know I got something cooking for them. Let’s see how much sense these bad boys have.”

  “Okay,” Roethke answered as he took his foot off the accelerator. “But let’s not be trigger-happy. Especially with that thing. These are just desperate, hungry men trying to feed themselves. At least that’s what the boss told me, so we’ll go with that. We just need to get past them.”

  “I’m impressed, Professor,” Carlo replied. “Always looking for the good in people.” Roethke listened for sarcasm or derision, but it sounded sincere. That was funny to him, because deep down, he didn’t care that much whether the men at the barrier lived or died. He was just following orders.

  “Security is my end of this deal, though,” Roethke continued. “If I go back to base without you and Dee, I’ve failed my mission.”

  “Back to base?” Dee said, snickering. “Playing army, are we?”

  “Desert Storm and then Desert Shield,” Carlo told her. “It sticks with you. I’ve fired a ton of these. Had a ton of them fired at me, too. No games going on here, lady.”

  “Yes sir,” Dee replied, saluting Carlo, who saluted back with a grin before turning his attention back to the grenade launcher.

  “Slow it down a little more,” Carlo said moments later. “Let’s give them a chance to wise up. It’s always best to try to avoid a fight. But I don’t have to tell you that, Professor.”

  As he slowed, Roethke could see that the barrier, which appeared to be composed of logs and maybe some discarded furniture, was complete. The men who’d assembled it were now skulking around on either end of it, each cradling a rifle and watching the approaching van carefully.

  When they’d closed to within a hundred feet, some of the men stepped forward, their rifles trained on the van. The others dropped to a knee and assumed firing positions. Roethke was amused. They couldn’t be more clueless about what was going to happen if they fired. “Talk about playing army,” he muttered.

  “What are they yelling?” Dee asked.

  “I can’t make it out,” Carlo answered. “But you can bet it’s something along the lines of ‘Give us your car, your food, your guns and your women and we’ll let you live!’ It’s usually something like that, right?”

  “You’d know best,” Roethke said, unsure of how seriously to take some of the things that came out of Carlo’s mouth.

  “Well, it ain’t gonna’ matter in about a minute,” Carlo said. He yanked on a handle and slid the panel door of the van open. “Stop here, and both of you get down. I’m assuming that neither of you is wearing body armor. I am.”

  Roethke stopped the van and cut the engine. “Remember, we don't want to hurt anybody. Just get us through,” he reminded Carlo.

  “We’ll try not to,” Carlo assured him. “I think they’ll scatter when they see how much butt we’re prepared to kick.” With that he hopped out, took a few steps, and went to a knee. The launcher rested on his shoulder, pointed directly ahead at the barrier. Roethke wondered why the men hadn’t fired. They probably have no ammunition, he decided. The rifles were just for show.

  He moved to mention this to Carlo, but it was too late. The rocket grenade fired out of the tube with a smoky woosh, exhaust spurting from the back end over Carlo’s shoulder. Almost immediately the barrier burst into a violent ball of flame and smoke. Roethke strained to find the men amidst the growing inferno, but saw none. Either the smoke was obscuring them or they’d stolen away into the trees. Unless, of course, they were burning up along with their barricade.

  ~~~

  Later, after they’d driven past the site of the one-sided battle, Roethke asked Carlo what he thought had happened. “All’s fair in love and war,” he began. “I get that. But I think those rifles weren’t loaded. Otherwise they’d have shot at us. Did they survive that?”

  “That’s not my problem, Professor,” Carlo answered. “But yeah, I think they did. It’s not like we hit them with a nuke. That pile of logs and garbage burned up. That’s all. Unless they were on top of it, or behind it, I don’t see how they could have gotten hurt too bad. But it’s all about the ROE for me. Rules of engagement. I followed them, and we’re all alive. That’s good enough for me. My conscience is clear, no matter what happened to them.” He pointed a finger at Roethke. “And you better get used to thinking like that, too. Because until this all gets fixed, it’s every man for himself.”

  Nine

  It took several more days for Nick to recover from the Jack Daniel’s binge, at least to the point where he was ready to take on the outhouse project. Even after he felt better he continued to sulk, not saying much to anybody without fully understanding why. Finally, after enduring enough expectant stares from Dewey and thousand-word glares from Sarah, not to mention the overpowering stench that was pulsing out of both bathrooms, he gave in.

  Not lost on Nick, as he thought about how quickly the bathrooms had become uninhabitable, was that everybody in the house was obviously suffering from gastrointestinal problems. They had taken too long to finish off the last bits of food from the refrigerator, allowing some of it to spoil before they ate it. The general lack of cleanliness that resulted from the scarcity of water to wash and bathe with wasn’t helping, of course. Whatever the reason, a houseful of people suffering from diarrhea was all the more reason to build an outhouse, and that was mainly why he’d decided to put his reservations aside and get to work.

  It occurred to him that they didn't need to build the outhouse from scratch, a task made even more difficult than it normally would have been by the lack of materials and power. Instead, he decided that the playhouse he'd built in the yard years ago for Jules would be an adequate starting point. There would still be a lot of digging needed, of course. But the basic structure of the playhouse would do nicely. All they'd have to do was raise the roof a few feet, dig the pits underneath, and build rudimentary toilets inside. They could even leave it pink.

  Some plans were scratched out on paper, mostly by Nick. When building day finally came, they scarfed down a few crackers for breakfast and then got started. Over and over Nick was reminded of the new reality, having to push aside his power tools and choose those of the manual variety. It would be a long time before he got used to living like his great, great, great grandparents had.

  Dewey was just clomping down the basement stairs for the first time when Nick dug up a hand saw and added it to the stack. Without a word, Dewey scooped half the tools up and carried them outside. Nick took a few more minutes to sort through the two-by-fours and plywood he had on hand. It took several more trips by both of them before it was all outside and they were ready to start work.

  It felt good to be out in the sun with a job to do. Nick instantly felt better as he and Dewey surveyed the terrain and picked a spot for the trench. He gave Dewey some assignments before moving over to partially disassemble the playhouse. It didn’t take long for Nick to understand that as smart as he was, Dewey had clearly never picked up a tool in his life. Eventually he figured out how to use the tape measure, and was able to mark the two-by-fours for cutting. The hand saw was another matter. Nick tried not to laugh as he heard the twangy thwap of the saw as it jammed in the wood again and again. He wasn’t sure what to tell him; it was just something you had to feel.

  “What’s going on, guys?”

  Nick looked u
p to see Matt Shardlake leaning over the corner of the fence into the yard. “Starting a project?”

  “Hey, Matt,” Nick said. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that. We’re putting up an outhouse. It’ll be the nicest one in the neighborhood, I’ll bet.” He pointed at Dewey. “Especially if I can show this guy which end of a hammer to hit the nail with.”

  “An outhouse?” Matt asked. “You really think that’s necessary?”

  “I tell you what,” Dewey told him. “Hop that fence and come on over. Walk inside our house and, like, take a whiff. We won’t need to do any explaining after that. We have like six people living in there without any running water.”

  Matt grimaced. “Now that you mention it, we have the same problem. There aren’t as many of us, though. And some are still in diapers. So it’s not that bad yet.”

  “Everybody in our place has the runs,” Dewey added.

  “Now that part sounds familiar,” Matt said. “Everybody in the neighborhood probably does.”

  “You’ll be out there building one of these any day now,” Nick said. “Or something like it. It’s unavoidable. Say, how are you doing on food?”

  “Running low,” Matt told him. “How about you?”

  “Not bad,” Nick answered. “We finished cleaning out the refrigerator. Now we’re working our way through the pantry.”

  “It’s not food we have to worry about so much,” Dewey said. “We should be good for a while, don’t you think?” he asked Nick, who nodded in agreement. “We’re going to run out of water a long time before we run out of food. Even the girls are drinking out of the bathtub now.”

  “Hmm,” Matt said. “We have the opposite problem. We’re loaded with jugs of water for the cooler. We just sent out the empties and took delivery of a bulk order the day before all this happened. But when it comes to food, it’s a different story.”

  Nick threw the handwritten sketch aside and picked up a shovel. “I’m still hoping none of this is going to matter. This could end anytime. With my luck, the power will pop back on as soon as this outhouse is done.”

  “Got it!” yelled Dewey, who’d gone back to sawing on the mark he’d drawn. He held up the long end of the two-by-four, beaming. “Bring it on!”

  “Like I said, you’ll be needing one of these in your yard pretty soon,” Nick said. “Everybody will. Seems kind of dumb for everybody to build one.” He smiled. “Can you tell I’ve been thinking about this?”

  “Is that what you were doing down in the basement that night?” Dewey asked.

  “Maybe it was, wise guy,” Nick answered. “Just hear me out. This thing could go on for a while. I think we need to get prepared for it.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Matt said.

  “I think we should all work together and coordinate things,” Nick explained. “For instance, this outhouse. We’re building one today. Tomorrow, you’ll need to build one.” He gestured at the Hellikson’s house. “Them, too. What’s the point of us all doing the same thing? Instead, let’s all pitch in on this one, maybe make it a little bigger, and share it when it’s done. Or maybe you could be working on something else while we’re working on this.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Dewey said.

  “It just makes sense,” Nick said. “And it’s more than just the outhouse here. We should be working together on everything. With food, for instance. You have some things, we have other things, but nobody has enough to last too long by themselves. We can even it out by sharing, and pooling our resources. We’ll be able to hold out longer before running out.”

  “We’re talking everything, right?” Matt asked. “Not just food and water?”

  “Everything,” Nick said. “Including probably a hundred things I haven't thought of yet. And if we work the Jeviks and the Helliksons in, it gets even better. Really, the more people we pull into our group, the better off we’ll be.”

  “It’s a good way to approach this,” Matt said. “Count us in. Just tell us what to do.”

  “I like it too,” Dewey said. “So will Sarah.”

  Matt put aside his afternoon plans, whatever they were, to help with the outhouse. There were some minor revisions made to enlarge it, but nothing too complicated. It took several hours to dig the trench. Nick left that to Dewey and Matt at first, while he concentrated on the construction aspect of the job, but got involved himself when he saw how slowly the digging was going. “For God’s sake! Have either of you guys ever used a shovel before? Have you ever even seen one?” After he said it he wished he hadn’t, because it had come out meaner than he’d intended. Instead of apologizing, he grabbed his mattock and started swinging away at the dirt.

  “Like, this is murder, working this hard in this weather,” Dewey said a couple hours later, after dropping his shovel and falling onto his back in the grass. “My body’s going to run out of sweat.”

  “You’ll make it,” Nick said. “I’m out in this every day. You just have to get used to it.”

  “It’s even hotter than normal, isn’t it?” Matt panted. “It’s got to be ninety-five degrees.”

  Dewey put his shovel down and looked at his watch. “Nope. Only ninety-two. Seventy-eight percent humidity, though. That’s the killer.”

  “How the heck does that thing still work?” Nick asked.

  “Beats me,” Dewey answered. “It’s all completely unpredictable.”

  “The worst part is that we don’t have an air-conditioned house to hide in when we’re done,” Matt said. “It’s even hotter in the house than it is out here.”

  “Our next project should be a pool,” Nick said. “Too bad we don’t any water to fill it with.”

  They were a filthy, tired and thirsty lot when the sun began to set, but they felt good about the day’s work. The new outhouse, with a door that was latchable from the inside, featured a bench seat made of two thick planks with three round holes cut by hand with Nick’s jab saw. None of them expected more than one occupant at a time, but there was room for more. They’d designed and built a flap on the back that could be swung open, providing access to the deep pit that the structure was built across. It was eight feet wide, four feet from front to back, and nine feet tall. As a finishing touch, Nick bored a mesh of holes along the top of the walls with a hand drill for ventilation. It wasn’t pretty, but it was sturdy and functional. That was good enough.

  The hard work in the hot sun had worn them down, especially Matt and Dewey. Except for Nick, their hands were covered with blisters long before the digging was finished. By the time the walls were done they were bleeding, even though Matt had returned to his garage for some gloves. Dewey started complaining about an aching shoulder by three o’clock. Matt had somehow managed to slice his shin open with his shovel. Nick’s skin, dark from spending many a summer day on rooftops, was hardly affected by the sun, but the other two sported sunburns that were going to start hurting in an hour or two.

  “You guys want to come over for some of that mountain spring water I was telling you about?” Matt asked. “I know I could use some.” Nick stifled a laugh. It was hard to know how seriously Matt took himself. He might actually believe that the fancy water in the tinted bottles came from an icy spring somewhere, instead of city water from a tap. No use ruining it for him.

  “Definitely,” Dewey said.

  “You gonna’ climb that fence every time you need to take a leak?” Nick asked as he eyed the six-foot white vinyl privacy fence that surrounded the Shardlake’s yard. He and Dewey had gotten a good snicker out of watching Matt shinny up the corner post when he’d gone back for the gloves, only to fall into his own yard from his momentary perch at the top. “I don’t think Ellie will go for that.”

  “Too bad I didn’t put in a gate,” Matt said. “Of course, that would only get us into the Helliksons or the Jeviks. We didn’t sign them up yet.”

  “We will. But you know there’s only one Jevik, right?” Nick asked Matt. “Chuck.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said uncomfort
ably. “That’s just what I call them. I know the lady he lives with is Beth, or something.”

  “Bela,” corrected Nick.

  “Yeah, right. Bela,” Matt said. “I just try to mind my own business with them. That guy scares me.” He looked back at his shiny white fence. “Like you said, I can’t see Ellie or the kids climbing over every time they need to go.”

  “I’d just knock one section out, if it were me,” Nick said. “It’s easy enough to do, and you can put it back later. There’s still a chance this whole thing could be over in a day or two. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Chuck Jevik and the Helliksons about their fences if they join up.”

  “And why wouldn’t they?” Dewey said. “This is how things are going to be for a long time. It’s, like, a whole new ball game, you know?”

  “Does anybody even know what’s going out beyond this neighborhood?” Matt asked.

  “One thing I haven’t heard about anybody seeing is any kind of cops, or the military,” Nick answered.

  “I’m sure they’re out there where they always were,” Matt guessed. “But they’re probably just as helpless as the rest of us. They’re too busy saving their own skins.”

  “I wish we could know what happened to cause all this,” Nick said. “Because something sure did.”

  “I told you the first day,” Dewey reminded him.

  “And I believe you, now. But even if you’re right, it wasn't an accident, was it?” Nick said. “Who did it? And how bad is it? Is it everywhere? I wonder how far it goes.”

  “I was thinking about this before,” Dewey said. “It’s like, the longer we go without seeing any authorities, or army guys or whatever,” Dewey said, “the wider the affected area is. If it’s just South Jersey, the cavalry would have arrived from nearby. That’s how I see it, anyway.”

  “Good point,” Matt agreed.

  “Did you notice that there aren’t any planes in the sky?” Dewey asked. “That tells me that whatever happened, it isn’t local.”