Dark Grid

by David C. Waldron

  “So, here’s the deal. This morning at the dam it looks like the grid--the power grid--got hit by a spike. It was a big enough spike, and it was preceded by a large enough dip in power, that it got past the safeties and actually blew two turbines at the dam and shut down the rest. The power is out for the foreseeable future; not just here but most likely everywhere, because the entire electrical grid was affected. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get power back here or anywhere else. I don’t know if it will be days or weeks or months,” Sheri paused, “or even longer.”

  People were murmuring again and a couple of people swore loudly. Sheri raised her voice like she did in the control room to continue to be heard. “I’m saying this to let you know what’s going on and so you aren’t surprised when there’s no power tomorrow morning. I’d love to be proven wrong, but I’ll be more surprised than I can put into words if I am.”

  A couple of the more vocal folks in the crowd were started yelling questions at Sheri along with a few choice derogatory remarks. As things grew rowdier, Carey jumped back up onto the table and yelled for silence. Sheri looked over at Eric, Joel, and Chuck who had formed a subtle, but very real, wall between the crowd and Karen, Rachael, and the kids. They had also lined themselves up to let her get down off the table and behind them fairly easily without being too obvious. Eric had his hand behind his back and Joel had his in his pocket. Geez, how could it have gotten this bad in less than five minutes? Sheri thought to herself. At least Chuck just had his arms folded.

  “Settle down, settle down! Sheri isn’t here for her own good people, what the heck’s wrong with you? She didn’t do this, it isn’t her fault.”

  Joel stood off to the side of the table with the speakers on it, wondering if Carey had ever taken a course on public speaking in his life. If so, he had apparently misunderstood every bold and highlighted phrase in the textbook because he was doing the world’s worst job of crowd control Joel had ever seen. It was like every phrase Carey used was designed to stir the crowd into a mob, and the look on his face showed that he had no idea what he was doing. To do a worse job would have required a Project Manager, actual planning, and weeks of meetings!

  Despite what he’d said to Rachael at the house he was not enjoying watching the scene before him because nobody was turning to Carey for leadership; they were milling about like a bunch of bulls in Pamplona before the running. He was just about to say ‘screw it’ and step up onto the table himself when somebody else did just that, and, thank goodness, it was one of Carey’s buddies.

  “Which part of SHUT UP and SETTLE DOWN did you people not understand?” Rick Gayle bellowed at the top of his lungs as he stepped onto the table. He had seen the mob forming and didn’t like it one bit so he figured it was time to step up and put an end to it. Carey looked like he could use a hand too. “Thank you very much ma’am, if you’ll step down I think we can take it from here,” he said to Sheri, who did just that.

  “Now, just be quiet for a minute and listen,” Rick was addressing the group again. “Go home. Take stock of what you’ve got as far as food and water and other supplies. We’ll get the board together and see what we can do to work through this together. Quit pointin’ fingers, it’s a good way to get ‘em broke.”

  As the crowd dispersed, Carey, face red with anger, embarrassment, or both, came to talk to Joel and his group.

  “I’m sure you enjoyed that thoroughly,” Carey sneered.

  “Not at all, Carey, and I really wish you’d just let it go.”

  Instead of responding to Joel he turned to Sheri, “Will you and Chuck be available if we have any other questions?” He asked it like a police officer asks a suspect after questioning.

  “I don’t see why not.” Sheri answered noncommittally.

  “Thank you.” and Carey turned and walked off with Rick.

  “Why is it that every time he opens his mouth my blood pressure goes up?” Joel asked.

  “Because you’re a very empathetic person and you’re projecting. It’s very sensitive of you, dear.” Rachael replied.

  “Did she just call me pathetic and sensitive?” Joel asked no one in particular.

  …

  The Taylor’s house had become the central meeting point because it was between Eric’s and Sheri’s and was the largest of the three homes. As such, it was where they all headed as soon as the short neighborhood meeting broke up.

  Once everyone was seated around the Taylor’s kitchen table, Maya and Josh included this time, Eric brought the question to the group. “Ok, so where do we want to go? We’ve all mentioned that we don’t want to stay in a population center for a number of reasons, and I think the impromptu HOA meeting just sealed the deal. Driving around aimlessly will just run us out of gas, though. Anyone have any suggestions?”

  “What semi-accessible wooded areas are there around here? I would think that those would probably be our best bets. Not too far away, because we don’t want to use too much fuel to get there, but not too close either, and secluded enough that we wouldn’t be too obvious once we got there.” Rachael was more thinking out loud than asking a direct question but Sheri answered as though it had been asked directly to her.

  “Well, off the top of my head, I can think of Port Royal State Park, north of here--probably a little too close. Bledsoe Creek, northeast of here--also probably still too close. Cedars of Lebanon, east-southeast--about the same distance as Bledsoe but closer to other towns. Everything else I can think of is actually closer than that.”

  “How about Natchez Trace State Park?” Joel asked. “We were there about a year ago. It’s about eighty-five miles west of here on I-40. Once you get into the middle of it you are really in the middle of it, and it’s not too close to any other population centers.

  “If we get lucky we could even use some of the facilities there. If not, it’s large enough that even if all the cabins were booked, and everyone stayed there, we could still primitive camp and not encounter anyone else.”

  “Let me go get the road atlas and we can take a look,” Rachael said.

  When she got back she also had the map from the park that they had picked up during their visit and it looked pretty much as Joel had described. It was ten to fifteen miles from any town in the center of the park, and even the permanent park facilities were several miles from where they could set up if they wanted to.

  “Looks good to me,” Sheri said.

  “Same here,” Chuck agreed.

  “Karen?” Eric asked. When she nodded, he went on, “Ok, I think it’s unanimous then--but I’m assuming nobody’s going to be ready to leave today.”

  “Not realistically,” Joel said. “We’re going to need the rest of the day to finish packing and a good night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt.”

  Sheri felt much the same way. “I’ve also been running on adrenaline since I saw the auroras this morning. I’m going to need some sleep before we head out and I assume that Chuck is going to need some too,” she gave him a sidelong look, “unless you were sleeping in the break room when the power went out.”

  “No! I was not!”

  “So, tomorrow morning at the earliest then, as it’s getting late in the day if we want to make any contact with the Armory. I suggest we get some lunch and start packing.” Eric continued.

  “On that note,” Rachael said, “let’s have some lunch with at least a semblance of normalcy to it. We have a ton of lunch meat, thanks to a growing 16 year old, and only so much space in the coolers, so we might as well have sandwiches if that’s ok with everyone?”

  When nobody objected and everyone offered to help, it was actually more work and chaos than Rachael had thought it would be when offered. It did, however, take everyone’s mind off the fact that they would be leaving their homes for the foreseeable future, which was the real reason she’d suggested it.

  Chapter Nine

  Everyone was going to drive a truck or an SUV. Sheri’s Explorer and Karen’s Pathfinder were both 2-wheel dri
ve but each could carry a lot while keeping it under cover. The Taylors had a Suburban; which, while a gas guzzler, could tow anything anyone would be driving--even fully loaded. Chuck had an F-350, and Eric had a Silverado--both of which were turbo-diesel crew cabs.

  Between them they had seven tents, six lanterns, four 20lb propane tanks from backyard grills, almost two dozen disposable propane canisters, more than enough sleeping bags, coolers for three or four days of food--assuming the dry ice lasted that long--and a couple of weeks of canned goods. Karen had wisely suggested that they pack the vehicles in the garages so as not to arouse any suspicion. They weren’t necessarily hiding from the rest of the neighborhood, but there weren’t any other folks in the neighborhood that they wanted to seek out and bring with them either.

  Packing was going slowly, due in part to the fact that everyone was subconsciously putting of the inevitable departure. At about a quarter after three in the afternoon, Carey knocked on the Taylor’s door.

  “Carey, what can I do for you?” Joel asked. He wasn’t about to invite Carey in, but he wasn’t going to be rude either. Frankly it was actually cooler outside than it was inside with the A/C not working.

  “We’re going to start pooling resources and need to compile a list of what you have so you can bring it to one of a number of central points.” Carey replied…straight-faced.

  Joel couldn’t respond right away and just blinked for a few seconds. “Ok, when do you need the list by, and what are you wanting catalogued?”

  “I’m here to make it now,” Carey said.

  “I’m sorry, what do you mean ‘you’re here to make it now’?” Joel asked.

  Carey was taken aback by the question. “I’m here to make an inventory of what you’ve got as far as food, water, fuel, and clothing,” he clarified-- and made as if to walk into the house. Unfortunately for Carey, Joel didn’t get out of his way, so he had to stop.

  “We don’t have a huge amount of time to screw around Taylor…”

  “My first name is Joel, and the hell you’re going to walk in and inventory my house. This isn’t the Communist Community of Carey Pavlovich buddy! A few hours isn’t going to make or break anything; so you can just back off. Maybe you need to be a little more concerned about the fools out there mowing their lawns with what little remaining gasoline there is, or the two or three people who’ve fired up their backyard propane grills this afternoon to cook a half-a-dozen hotdogs.

  “If you want a list of the resources I’ve got, fine, I’ll give you a list. But you’re going to give me a list of where you think you’re going to put it and how you think you’re going to protect it. Where’s that list Carey, huh? You bring that with you? No, then get off my porch and get to work doing something useful; and don’t come back until you can answer some simple, basic questions.” Joel slammed the door in Carey’s face.

  “It’s probably a good thing we’re leaving,” Rachael said.

  “Ya think?”

  …

  Sheri’d had her windows open and heard the door slam across the street. She got to the living-room window in time to see Carey slam his own door and wondered what was going on when Rachael came out of the Taylor’s house and started across the street. Uh-oh, this doesn’t look good.

  She opened her front door just as Rachael reached the porch, and waved her in. “What just happened?”

  “I’m not sure if it was Carey’s idea or not but apparently there’s a plan to consolidate supplies; and for us, at least, it was going to start with Carey himself performing an inventory of our house.” Sheri’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes got wide at that. “Yeah. Joel read him the riot act about doing something productive and then slammed the door in his face. I swear, if I had more tender sensibilities I’d be all flushed and fanning myself and saying things like ‘Isn’t this just so excitin’, but this is just getting stupid.”

  “Well, that explains the visit I got a little while ago while I was, um, indisposed.” Sheri said. “Chuck answered the door and told the guy that he wasn’t someone he thought I was expecting--since it wasn’t Carey, Rick, or one of you folks--and never even let the guy finish. He eventually gave up and said he’d come back later. I wonder what Eric said.” Sheri and Rachael both grinned like idiots thinking about that.

  …

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?” the man at the front door said, perplexed.

  Eric simply repeated himself. “No.”

  “Sir, I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.”

  “Oh I assure you I do, more so than you by leaps and bounds. It’s you who don’t understand. You are on private property. You have no authority here, period. No authority to enter my home, no authority to catalogue or inventory my possessions, no authority whatsoever once you cross those borders to do anything at all.” Eric replied.

  “But the board,” the man continued.

  Eric interrupted, “Doesn’t have the right to do what you are saying they’ve sent you out to do. This is a home owners’ association, not a sovereign nation. Are you kidding me? Are you insane? No. It doesn’t matter what I have or don’t have. If I have something I feel I would like to share then it’s up to me to do so. If I run out then it’s up to others whether or not they will share with me. Frankly, I have every intention of sharing but I’m not letting you or anyone else into my house to make a list of what I have and then turning everything over to someone else to manage. Not gonna happen.”

  “But what if there isn’t enough for everyone to go around? What if there isn’t enough for the kids? That’s not fair for one person to decide!”

  “Ok, you obviously aren’t listening so I’ll try it another way. How much food, water, and fuel do you have at your place?” Eric asked.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with everything! You want to come in and inventory my house but won’t tell me what you have? Doesn’t that strike you as even the least bit hypocritical?”

  The guy at the door, whose name Eric still didn’t know, was working his mouth like a fish with no words coming out. The word gobsmacked came to mind. “I think we’re done here. I’m going to close the door now, bye.” Eric was barely able to keep from laughing until the door was completely shut.

  …

  As the evening progressed, more people were out and about but the mood in the neighborhood was tense. Carey was holding one of his infamous HOA board meetings in his driveway, which made it all the more difficult to hide the fact that Sheri and Chuck, and Eric and Karen, at least, were pooling resources for dinner with the Taylors.

  “Are we the only neighborhood that’s acting like this?” Rachael asked as dinner was wrapping up.

  “Acting like what?” Sheri countered.

  “Well, all paranoid and worried and weird. Is knowing that the power isn’t coming back on better or worse than not knowing? Are other groups out there freaking out more, less or the same as we are?”

  Eric waited a few heartbeats before he replied because nobody else had answered. “I think that the majority of people are starting to freak out, as you say, because it’s sinking in that there is absolutely no contact with the outside world. Aside from no electricity there’s no phones, no radio, no cell phone, no wireless Internet, no satellite radio… nothing. People aren’t used to that level of isolation--even when they go camping.”

  “How have you been doing, Sheri? I know things didn’t go as well as they could have at the cabana today.” Karen asked.

  Sheri sighed. “I’m exhausted, but I don’t know how much sleep I’m going to get tonight.” She was looking at the back of the house, scanning it from one end to the other, taking it in and not realizing she was doing it.

  Chuck reached over and took another one of the bagged rolls he’d brought back from his house, catching Sheri’s eye. “Chuck! Why don’t you stay at my place tonight?”

  Chuck stopped with the roll part way to his face--mouth hangi
ng open. “’Scuse?”

  “Well, you’re already packed and here. I have an actual guest bed for when the occasional family comes to visit; and that way we can get out of here as early as possible in the morning. I’ll sleep better knowing someone else is in the house too.”

  A slightly awkward silence followed before Chuck finally agreed. “Ok. I mean, sure, makes perfect sense.” Chuck tried to cover his pause with humor, “As long as the pillowcases aren’t all lacy and froofy smelling, because I won’t be able to sleep if they are.”

  “Yeah, you know me too well. Froofy-smelling pillowcases--as if.” Sheri replied, obviously relieved.

  As they said goodnight and headed back to their own homes for some final packing and an early night’s sleep they were all recipients of icy looks from the board members still in Carey’s driveway.

  Tomorrow morning can’t come soon enough for me, Joel thought to himself.

  Chapter Ten

  Joel was a little surprised to wake up to an empty bed. Occasionally he or Rachael would grab a blanket and go sleep on the couch if the other one was snoring loudly or tossing and turning--but Rachael hadn’t taken her pillow downstairs which meant she had gotten up for the day. Joel made his way downstairs and was met by the sound of soft sniffling.

  “Rach?” Joel said as knelt by the couch in front of his wife. “Hon? How long have you been up?”

  “Not long, only about ten minutes. I had to say good-bye though.”

  “We’re not coming back Joel. We’ve lived here since before Maya was born. There are three guinea pigs and a cockatiel buried in the back yard.” Rachael grabbed another tissue. “This has been our home for over half of our marriage, Joel, and we’re just going to walk away from it in a few hours…and not look back? I don’t know if I can do it.”