The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  The Pulse Effex Box Set

  PULSE

  RESILIENCE

  DEFIANCE

  L.R. Burkard

  Lilliput Press

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  PULSE, Copyright ©2015 by Linore Rose Burkard

  RESILIENCE Coypright ©2016 Linore Rose Burkard

  DEFIANCE Copyright ©2017 Linore Rose Burkard

  PULSE EFFEX BOX SET ISBN: 978-0-9989663-9-7

  copyright ©2018 Linore Rose Burkard

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  COMPELLING

  “A must read for people of all ages!...I look forward to reading the sequel.”

  DOUG ERLANDSON, Top 50 Amazon Reviewer

  REALLY ENJOYED IT

  “Burkard does a fantastic job depicting what life might be like for those that are prepared--and those that are anything but. I also enjoyed the strong emphasis on faith and how focused on Christ some of the characters were.”

  CHRIS RAY, PreparedChristian.net

  REALISTIC AND FRIGHTENING

  “I loved this book! The story of each teen gradually unfolds and includes carefully researched details that make you really feel what it would be like to go through this!”

  CAROL RIFFLE, High School Science Teacher

  HEART POUNDING

  “Loved it! Loved it! Loved it! I cried…my heart pounded…! Holy Cow, guess I better invest in a rifle!”

  C. KLEPEIS, Reader, Virginia

  THIS BOOK BRINGS IT HOME

  Get it, read it, get young adults to read it—and prepare!

  C. REINEMANN, Disaster Preparedness Consulting, LLC

  HAD MY WIFE READ IT

  Just finished the book and had my wife read it as well. Definitely a page turner to pick up as soon as you can!

  BRIAN B., The SouthernPreppers.com

  GRABBED MY HEART AND NEVER LET GO

  Had me spellbound! You won’t want to miss this gritty and powerful series.

  NORA ST. LAURENT, CEO, Book Club Network

  “Son of man, speak to your people and say to them, If I bring the sword upon a land, and the people of the land take a man from among them, and make him their watchman,

  And if he sees the sword coming upon the land and blows the trumpet and warns the people, then if anyone who hears the sound of the trumpet does not take warning, and the sword comes and takes him away, his blood shall be upon his own head.”

  Ezekiel 33:2-4, ESV

  PART ONE

  ANDREA

  AGE 16, JANUARY 11

  DAY ONE

  So my dad got all upset because when he went to leave for work the car went halfway down the driveway and died. His precious Mercedes.

  I was just walking out to wait for the school bus and he hurried towards me in a huff, yelling something about how the starter wouldn’t even turn over.

  “What’d you do to the car, Andrea?” he demanded. I stared at him. I couldn’t believe he was trying to pin it on me.

  “Nothing.”

  “What’d you do to it?” he asked again. I turned and stalked blindly down the driveway to wait by the mailbox. My heart was pounding. Normally I’d enjoy the crunch of snow beneath my boots and the way the pines lining our driveway are blanketed in white; but I barely noticed either.

  Leave it to Dad to ruin my day before it starts.

  Yesterday Mom let me practice driving for about thirty-five minutes and the Mercedes drove just fine. So I’m supposed to know what happened? I’m guessing it’s frozen because we’re having a mean cold spell. The bottom line is Dad loves his car more than me (he loves lots of things more than me). I blinked away tears that felt cold on my skin the moment they appeared. Where was that bus? I wanted to see my friends and forget about home.

  I waited, beginning to freeze. Designer boots aren’t made for warmth. I waited a long time; I knew the bus should have come already but I didn’t want to go back—Dad would say I overslept and missed it on purpose or something like that.

  Finally, I had to go in. Sure enough there was Dad, hands on hips, glaring at me.

  “Why are you back?”

  “The bus didn’t come.”

  He stared at me as if he didn’t believe me.

  “So walk to school,” he said. I gaped at him. Was he kidding? We live, like, five miles from my high school. My mother called him from the kitchen. I turned and stared out the window. Our secluded circular drive was a winter wonderland. In nice weather it’s a beautiful manicured front, maintained meticulously by landscapers. Today it was a world of white, so cold the snow glittered. No way was I going to walk to school. Anyway, my father says things he doesn’t mean when he’s mad so I took off my coat and boots in the mud room. (There’s rarely an ounce of mud in it but that’s what we call it.)

  I went to heat water for hot chocolate but Mom said, “NOTHING’S working, Andrea. NOTHING. We’re having a black out.” Our house is like, all electric—the stove, our heat and even the pump for the well. So when we lose electricity we’re pretty much without everything. Mom’s sort of freaking out about it. I’ll bet her and Dad had one of their fights. We’ve lost electricity before and the world didn’t end. But when my parents actually have a fight as opposed to just being mad at each other silently, everything and anything makes them crazy.

  Dad’s been outside tinkering with his car for the longest time but it still won’t start. I hope he can fix it. I can’t stand the thought of being home all day with him here. My little brothers are home (their bus didn’t come, either) and so I’m stuck with the whole family but no one to talk to.

  I’d call Lexie except I can’t get my idiot cell phone to work. Of all times for this to happen! I charged that phone all last night and we had power then because when I woke up my alarm clock showed the time—5:05AM. I asked Mom if I could borrow her cell and she said, “All the phones are dead. Something’s going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing’s working!” She tossed her head at me, looking exasperated and creeped out.

  “The house phone doesn’t work?”

  “No. Nothing.” She took off with baby Lily to put her down for a nap.

  So I can’t even text anyone. I can’t check online to see if my friends have posted anything. I can’t watch YouTube, and just now I turned on my iPod, only it didn’t turn on. It should have, but it didn’t. There’s nothing to do. I may as well have gone to school.

  Okay, so Dad said power lines might have been knocked down by the weight of the snow. That doesn’t explain why we have no cell phones but, whatever. I really don’t care why this is happening. I just want it to be over.

  Mom is still freaked out, nervously going around the kitchen like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She taped the refrigerator shut so we can’t let out the cold air, and she unplugged all the appliances.

  I heard my father come in the side door to the garage, muttering to himself.

  “Why didn’t he take the Lexus to work?” I asked, keeping my voice low so he wouldn’t hear me. I knew he preferred the Mercedes, but I couldn’t see why he’d be picky at a time like this.

  My mom turned and went to the counter and leaned against it, her arms folded across her chest. My mother is a pretty woman, slim, and a dark bru
nette like me, but she often looks strained and unhappy. I figure if I were married to my dad I’d look that way too.

  “That’s not working either,” she said.

  “BOTH cars are dead? At the same time? How did that happen?”

  “I have no idea.” She looked disgusted. She went to the sink and started rinsing dishes with water from a plastic jug.

  “Great, I hope that doesn’t last,” I said. One day with my father was more than enough for me. I thought of his motorcycle. The motorcycle was Dad’s nod to freedom, to his old self, the man he was before the corporate monster mentality owned him. He hardly used it, even in good weather, but he’d never gotten rid of it.

  “Too bad it’s snow cover or he could use the motorcycle.”

  My mom didn’t turn around but said, in a monotone voice, “That isn’t working either.”

  This was shocking. “He actually TRIED the motorcycle? In this weather?”

  “Just to see if it would start,” she said, still not turning around.

  So dad was definitely home for the day. I decided to keep a low profile by disappearing to my room. Upstairs I got in bed and picked up my iPad. When it wouldn’t power on, I flung it down on the mattress and stared at it. Why wasn’t anything working? Even with a power outage, my cell phone and iPad should work.

  I felt depressed. I wished I could talk to Lexie. We’d laugh about having the day off from school because Mr. Sherman, our World Geography teacher would be totally frazzled that class was off schedule. Mr. Sherman follows his schedule like a Nazi. At least that was something to look forward to at school tomorrow—hearing Mr. Sherman bemoan our day off.

  I tried to sleep but got bored, so I headed back downstairs. The boys were sliding down the wide mahogany banisters of our marble staircase. They’re not supposed to do that, but I stood watching, enjoying their glee. The real estate agent who sold us the house called the staircase a “showstopper.” I think it’s why my dad bought this stupidly big house. Just to show off. Anyway, as I waited to see them crash at the bottom, I suddenly heard a strange, muffled sound. In a few seconds I realized it was baby Lily—wailing from her room!

  I rushed down the hall to her room and opened the door. She was on her back in the crib really going at it, screaming like a little banshee, arms and legs flailing. I leaned over to pick her up. Her wide-eyed terror made me hold her to my chest, saying softly, “Poor baby! Poor Lily! It’s okay. We didn’t hear you! Andrea’s here.”

  I looked at the baby monitor and realized we’d forgotten it wasn’t working! Lily’s first stirrings are usually heard by one of us so she never has to work up to full-fledged crying before we get her. She was unused to being ignored this long. Even in my arms, her little lower lip still trembled and her whole tiny body shuddered now and then. I held her close, rocking back and forth before changing her diaper, but she continued to fuss so I knew she wanted my mother.

  Lily has the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes. I don’t know where she got them because all the rest of us have green or brown, but I’m glad she does. She doesn’t have a lot of hair yet, but I think it’s going to be blonde and that’s different from the rest of us too.

  Downstairs I found Mom searching for batteries in a closet. I shook my head. “Mom, Lily was screaming her head off. This idiotic house is so big we couldn’t hear her!”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Mom held out her arms and took the baby, who let out a gurgle of satisfaction. She snuggled Lily to her chest, covering her little head with kisses and headed for the kitchen.

  “How did you hear her?”

  “I was in the hall.”

  “Did you change her?”

  “Yup.”

  “Thank you.”

  My mother looked upset, so I added, “She’s fine, mom. Babies cry.”

  She reached for the fridge and then stopped. “Oh. I can’t heat the bottle.” She looked at me.

  “I’ll make her a new one.”

  “She likes them warm. How will we warm it?”

  “Don’t we have anything?” I asked. “Doesn’t dad have a space heater?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It’s electric.”

  I sighed, turning to get a clean bottle from the cupboard. “Well, she’s going to have to drink it at room temperature today.” Mom stood nearby as I measured the powdered formula into a bottle, then added water from a jug. She took one of Lily’s hands to kiss it, but gasped.

  “Her little hand is cold!” she cried. “I put her down for her nap not even thinking how she’d get cold up there.” She tore off a sock to feel her foot, then put a hand behind her neck and sighed. “Her neck is warm. That’s a good sign.”

  “She’s fine, Mom.” But I had begun to notice the temperature in the house dropping too. Who would have thought one day without power would do that?

  I took over hunting down batteries and heard my dad come in. He said he’d gone to speak to the neighbors to see if they knew anything. Our plat has about five roads and maybe two dozen houses. Turns out none of our closest neighbors were home, but he found a family home at the far end of the street. They’re in the same boat we are. Everything’s dead—cars, computers, phones, cell phones. Like us, they’re hoping only this area was affected and that outside our neighborhood everything is okay.

  If nothing changes by tomorrow, Dad’s gonna walk a few miles down the main road with one of the neighbors to find out. He says we’re blind as bats with no TV or radio or phones. It’s depressing. I hate being stuck at home with this useless family and nothing to do.

  EVENING

  I never knew a house could get cold this quickly. We really felt it when the sun went down. Whenever we’ve had a power outage before, Dad just took us to a hotel. Now we’re stuck here. We have this gigantic fireplace—at least, I’ve always thought it’s gigantic, but now that we need it for heat it seems hardly big enough. It’s really the stone-flagged mantle and dark mahogany bookcases flanking it that make it seem huge. Anyway, Dad spent a long time getting a fire going, even with a fire-starter, but we still have to stay close to feel its warmth. We moved all the furniture into a small circle around it.

  Mom got a camp stove from the garage (which I forgot we had. We haven’t gone camping since before the twins were born) and by putting it over the logs, we could actually heat the tea kettle. Now we can warm the baby’s bottles and I finally got to drink that hot chocolate I’ve been wanting all day!

  So we sat around the room together, which is hugely odd. My family never sits and hangs together. Well, not with my dad, anyway. The boys had dragged in their bucket of building blocks and the baby was asleep in a portable crib near the fireplace.

  I looked at my father. “When do you think power will be back?” When he didn’t answer right away—he seemed to be thinking about it—my mom said, “I hope it’s soon. But I don’t get it—how come everything is out, even our cell phones and cars?” She was looking at my dad as though she expected him to explain it all. He shook his head.

  “I don’t know. Those cars should start if it’s zero degrees and it only got down to twelve today.” He stared into the fireplace. “If it was only one of the cars, I could understand that. A fluke. But none of them work. I don’t have an answer to that.”

  With nothing else to do, I tried reading with a flashlight but I guess the batteries are dying because it’s too dim. We have a few candles on the dining room table but it’s pretty dark in here, even with the fireplace. My little brothers are giggling and being silly like it’s a family camp-out, but my mom and dad aren’t even playing along. The baby is blissfully unaware that anything’s changed; I envy her. Dad is worried because all we have are a few logs left from the holidays to burn besides some fire starters and cardboard boxes in the basement—but that’s it. And the temperature is now below zero outside.

  I’m not too worried—we’ve never had a long outage before so why would we now?

  I tried to sleep in my room but woke in the middle of the night—freez
ing. Carrying blankets and my pillow, I groped my way in the dark and went downstairs. Everyone else was in the family room. Mom and the baby had the best spot, asleep on a sofa that had been moved in front of the big stone fireplace. The boys were on the floor in front of that. Dad was asleep on another couch, moved so that it was adjacent to the one with Mom. I put down a few blankets and my pillow and slept on the rug like the boys. I’m only warm on the side facing the fireplace, though.

  I managed to fall asleep earlier without my music but right now I’m wishing I had it. I’d give anything for one working iPod! If I at least had that I might be able to forget about everything else.

  I hope the power is back by tomorrow.

  This house is lonely and quiet and boring without electricity.

  JANUARY 12

  DAY TWO

  Wretched morning. I had to get ready for school with no hot water or shower or anything—and then Dad walked out with me when I went for the bus. He wanted to talk to the driver and see what he could find out about the outage. The bus never came. I was so disappointed. I’d prefer a normal day at school (even without a shower) to this grind. Home with nothing working. The whole time we stood out there waiting he said, like, two words to me. Sometimes he creeps me out.

  So the living room looks like a campsite with our extra blankets and pillows around. We have to dress in layers to keep anywhere near warm. If I need to use the restroom, I wear my coat! Speaking of which, the toilets stopped working last night. My father wasn’t too concerned because he figured we can keep them flushing by bringing in water from the well. Even though it’s powered by electricity, we have a manual hand pump. But after he went out to bring in the first bucket of water he returned shortly, cursing up a storm. The pump handle was frozen. And when he tried to force it to operate, it came apart right in front of his eyes.