“Maybe we should do what they’re doing,” said Mom. “If there’s food and shelter somewhere, we’d be better off.”
“Farmingham said there’s no emergency shelter in town,” said my dad. Mr. Farmingham lives in our plat. “So they’ll have to go to Dayton. And if Dayton is powerless like us, it will be dangerous, worse than staying home. Every city without power will have looting and rioting. Remember Katrina.”
I don’t know why, but I wanted to see the road for myself—maybe just to see other people. I saw a whole family walking along together. Two little kids were bundled up on a sled and there was a baby in a backpack. I don’t want to think about them being out there when it gets dark. Dayton is thirty minutes from here by car. So I told them what my dad said about cities. At first they looked startled. They asked what we were doing to stay warm and I told them our situation.
“You see? We can make it with the fireplace,” the woman said to her husband.
“I guess,” he said, grudgingly. I turned around to go home. I think they went home too because I saw them heading back the way they’d come. I was glad!
I passed one other young couple. The woman was pushing a stroller full of stuff but there was no child with them. The man had a big backpack on. They said they never used their fireplace and now it wasn’t safe. Raccoons were living in the chimney or something so they had to seek shelter. I watched them go on with a heavy heart, but if it hadn’t been for the cold, I would’ve wanted to go with them—just to get away from home.
I guess we are lucky to have the fireplace. I’m getting used to not having central heat. It’s been a week and I feel okay if I’m layered up. (Now I see why they used to wear so much clothing in the old days. Like, in Shakespeare’s time; did you ever see Queen Elizabeth’s dresses? They look so heavy! But weight is warmth, I’m finding out. This is so not me—I don’t even care what I look like, just so I’m warm.)
EVENING
Dad used a staple gun to put sheets over the doorways and now the living room is livable. It’s bliss to sit around without feeling chilled. But I can’t be alone in here, so even though the house is dark and cold I wander up to my room at least for a few minutes every day. For my sanity. It’s driving me crazy, all this staying in one room all the time. Up there I can pretend nothing’s changed. None of my stuff works, but I bundle up and hang out, visiting my old life. It doesn’t work for long because my nose and fingers get cold. So I come back and sit near the fire, and then I’m hot. This is life now, hot or cold, never comfortable.
I keep hoping the whole downstairs will warm up from the fire, but Dad says most of our heat is lost through the chimney. I’m confused, because isn’t that how they used to heat houses? With fireplaces? I don’t get why it doesn’t work anymore.
I wish I could fall asleep and then wake up to everything the way it used to be.
I miss my friends, and being online, and my music.
Even my brothers are bored. We all miss video games.
We’re stranded like a bunch of helpless sitting ducks.
Nighttime is the worst. I can hardly sleep without my iPod. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep. But I have to be careful because I don’t want the boys to hear me.
Last night was hard. I guess my mother heard me sniffling because she came and hugged me and I cried on her shoulder. I can’t remember the last time she did that. She said things like we can get used to living without power. “Think of the Amish,” she said, “they always live this way.”
“Even the Amish have stoves and refrigeration,” I said.
My mom was silent a moment. “Not anymore.”
It makes no difference. I’ll never get used to this.
JANUARY 18
DAY EIGHT
I can’t believe I’m writing again today. I’ve never been this faithful about it before. I have time now and nothing else to do, I guess.
So this morning I was feeling sorry for myself and then I remembered the chocolate chip cookies. I went to where I hid them—in the drawer of a hallway table that no one ever uses. It’s there just to hold an enormous vase with dried flowers—another stupid showpiece. Anyway, I took out the cookies and went up to my room. I got snuggled under a bunch of blankets and tried to pretend away my misery. I ate a cookie. I was only going to have a few cookies and share the rest. But one after another, they just kept going down.
I ate the whole box. Then I cried and hated myself for being a pig. It’s all because of this power-outage! I would never have done that before.
I’m a selfish, gluttonous, pig.
To my joy I found an old wind-up watch that seems to be telling the time! I told my dad and he tried to take it, but I fought for it. I can’t explain it, but having a working watch feels like an unbelievable luxury. It’s like SOMETHING is still okay in this world. I started crying because he was making me give it up, and that’s what actually saved the day. He turned away in disgust because I was crying over it, but I don’t care because now I have it.
Dad is changing. At first I couldn’t put my finger on it but then I realized what it was. He’s growing a beard. I can’t remember ever seeing him with a beard before so it’s sort of spooky, like he’s someone else and not my father. Up to now he looked unshaven and sloppy, but now I can see he’s been growing out a beard. I guess he’s doing it because he can’t go to work anymore. At his office none of the men wear beards. Or maybe he’s just getting into this Davy Crockett thing with the rifle and hunting. (Did I mention he keeps a rifle out now? It’s on the mantel, looking ominous. He says we may have to defend ourselves. I think he’s nuts. He also says he may go hunting. I’ll believe it when I see it.)
Yesterday he started building a small shed outside. He had wood in the garage for a project he never started. I thought, when he discovered this wood, that he would use it in the fireplace but no, he’s building something. (Why? When we could use it for heat!) Every day we still go looking for wood and sticks but everything is frozen. It’s a waste of time.
I didn’t ask about it because he snaps at anyone who talks to him. But when I got too cold in my room and came down, Aiden and Quentin were arguing over something stupid and the baby started crying and I couldn’t stand it. So I ran outside to get away from everyone and almost ran smack into my dad. He didn’t look mad—just tired. I didn’t know what to say, so I asked, “What’re you building?” I looked at the shed. It was high enough to stand in, but not much bigger than what would hold one person.
“An out-house,” he said, wiping his face with one sleeve.
I guess I looked shocked because he said, “Get used to it, Andrea. This is life—unless things ever get back to normal.”
“Will they?” I asked.
He shook his head, looking around. He was silent for a very long minute. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t say we are in serious trouble, but I’m wondering more and more what we’ll eat when our food runs out. We can’t drive to a store (we can’t even walk to one; they’re too far) and Mom says the shelves would be empty by now even if we could.
I asked again when help will arrive from the government and Dad says he just hopes the whole country didn’t have an “EMP.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s an electromagnetic pulse; a catastrophic high voltage power hit—like I told you. Could have been from the sun, or maybe terrorists.”
He gave me a look that sent a shudder down my spine. I wish I’d paid more attention when Lexie talked about the ways her family practices homesteading. It seemed so unnecessary. Even stupid. So much work. But I bet they’re warm and well fed and not so worried like my mom and dad.
Lexie is someone I wouldn’t even be friends with except we both have twins in our family. Mom had dragged me along to a Twins’ Club Meeting, and Lexie’s mom had dragged her along. We got to talking for the first time—we’d never talked at school—and that’s when I discovered how nice she is. And funny.
I don’t think about it a l
ot, but I’m glad we’re friends because knowing Lexie has been good. She’s not into clothes or boys like I am, but she’s smart and very religious—she talks about “The Lord” (like she knows him) and she says things like, “I’m praying for you,” whenever I tell her something I’m struggling with.
I hope she’s praying for me now because I sure could use some divine intervention.
I REALLY dread using that disgusting out-house. It’s bad enough having to use snow every night to make the toilets flush, but an outhouse is like, primitive! Dad says if we had a constant water source we could continue to use the bathrooms when the snow is gone, but we don’t have more water. Jim’s manual pump handle is working but it will be a long haul just to get drinking water from there every day.
EVENING
All of a sudden my mother stood up tonight and said, “What is wrong with us? The Hendersons still aren’t home, right?” The Hendersons are our neighbors on the left. We haven’t seen them since the grid went down.
My dad nodded.
“THEY have a wood stove—on the first floor!” My mother shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “Why haven’t we thought of this?” She started picking up blankets and wrapping baby Lily up more than ever.
“What are you doing?” asked my dad. “They aren’t home.”
“I know. We’re going there. We’re going to stay there until they come and chase us out. IF they come and chase us out. We can cook on the woodstove and maybe they even have food.”
“Um. Aren’t you forgetting something?”
My mother gave my dad a look.
“The house is locked.” She straightened up and put her hands on her hips.
“Yes, Peter, the house is locked,” she said. “You’ll need to break in.” She said the words like he was an idiot not to realize it himself. I sighed. It would have been nice if they were trying to get along right now, seeing as how everything else in life is so much harder. But no such luck.
My dad stared at my mom for a moment and soon I heard the garage door open. I figured he was getting some tools or something. Mom said, “C’mon, Andrea, don’t just sit there. Grab some of our stuff. Take whatever food is left.”
When dad returned about forty-five minutes later we were sitting with our arms full, ready to go. The boys were yawning but ready. Mom said, “What took so long?”
“They had some wood near the stove,” he said. “I started a fire to warm up the place. C’mon.”
So now we’re in the Henderson’s house with a real wood stove. The Hendersons are just a working couple with no children so there are no toys or anything like that. I can tell with just our candlelight and Dad’s one flashlight that it’s pretty here. I think they might even have more money than us. And the pantry is full! I know I shouldn’t be excited about that, but I am. A week ago we would have been horrified at the idea of breaking into anyone’s house, and here we are, gloating.
I wonder if the Hendersons were stranded somewhere and couldn’t get home. I’m sorry they couldn’t, but I’m also glad. I just hope they’re okay. We don’t know them well but I think they might have welcomed us here during this cold spell for the baby’s sake. (Maybe not, but I want to think so.)
If they don’t come back, Mom thinks we can manage on the food they’ve got—a least for a couple more weeks to a month, maybe more. I just can’t think about what will happen after that.
PART TWO
LEXIE
AGE 16, JANUARY 11
DAY ONE
We would have used the truck to get me to school because it had all-wheel drive and Dad hadn’t plowed the driveway yet. Only it wouldn’t start.
“Must be the cold,” my mother said, frowning. “Maybe the starter’s frozen. C’mon,” in her soft southern drawl, “you get the girls their breakfast while I get dad.”
Inside the house, twins Lainie and Laura, six years old, were at the table waiting for their food. Justin, our toddler, was asleep upstairs.
“Is Lexie staying home from school?” asked Laura. Before Mom could answer they broke out in a cheer. “Yay, Lexie has no school! It’s a snow day! Can we have a snow day, too, Mommy?” The girls are homeschooled. They often speak at the same time or at least it seems that way. And they say the same thing. They delight and exasperate me.
“Slow down, girls. No one said anything about a snow day,” said Mom. “Where’s your father?”
Lainie answered. “He’s downstairs checking….um, checking something.” She and Laura looked at each other. “What is he checking?” Lainie asked her sister.
Laura shrugged. “The broken? The toaster’s broken!” She looked at Mom. “The toaster’s not working, mama.”
“Broken?” My mother went to look at it, at the same time saying, “Why isn’t the light on? Lex, hit that switch, please.”
I did. When nothing happened, we realized there was no power. I opened the fridge. It was dark.
“Don’t open it!” Mom warned. “Keep the cold air inside!” Her shoulders slumped a little. “Oh, well. There goes my baking day.”
“Maybe it won’t be out long,” I said. Dad walked in.
“Power’s out?” Mom asked, even though it clearly was. He nodded.
“It’s not a popped breaker.”
“And I can’t get the truck started,” she said. “Can you give it a try?”
“Sure. C’mon, Lex. I’ll take you in.” Fifteen minutes later we were still home, and Dad had tried all the vehicles. None of them would start. He scratched his head.
“Could be they’re just being ornery on account of this weather.”
“How’m I gonna get to school?” I asked. Then, in a carefully even tone I added, “Maybe Blake can pick me up.” Blake Buchanan is eighteen, two years older than me. I guess you could say we’re pretty good friends. He’s not your average guy. He’s a science geek and very intelligent. He’s also quieter than most people, but when you get him talking on a topic he likes, he can talk as fast as anyone. Blake drives by the farm every day on his way to school but my mother prefers taking me herself. Blake and his family go to our church and my folks are good friends with his, so I’m holding out hope they’ll let him start driving me in before he graduates. I’ve had a small crush on him since forever.
Inside, Dad got his laptop while I hit Blake’s number on my cell phone. “Um. My phone is dead.”
My father grinned at me, while he dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “Here. How many times do I have to tell you to charge your phone every night?”
I took his phone but protested, “I did charge it last night! I know I did.” I sat down with the girls who were eating granola with milk. Waffles were off the menu.
“Hmm,” he said, teasingly. “I don’t know. A charged phone wouldn’t be dead.”
I took his phone. It wasn’t working either.
“You’re both hopeless,” my mother said good-naturedly. “Use the house phone, Lex, and HURRY.” Meanwhile dad took his phone back and was trying it himself. “I just used this about an hour ago,” he said, puzzled.
I tried the house phone and then turned to my parents. “Um, guys. This phone doesn’t work, either.”
My mother and father looked at each other.
“That’s odd,” said my dad. His laptop was sitting open on the counter and he went to the keyboard. “Laptop’s dead, too.” There was a deep silence for a minute while they pieced together what was happening. My mother gasped.
“Oh, my.”
My father said, “Wow.”
“What is it?” I asked. They had both realized something. “What is it?” My dad was silent for a minute while I waited.
“We’ve talked about this,” my dad said. “You remember—something happening that could take down the grid?” My mother had sat down, looking grim.
I suddenly realized what he meant. See, we’re “preppers.” We’d long ago taken seriously the idea that something catastrophic could render the country helpless in a matter of minute
s by shutting down the entire electric grid. Heck, we almost expected it. My parents even had enough emergency supplies in storage to last through such a disaster. But had it really happened?
“You don’t think...it’s really happened, do you?” I felt suddenly drained of energy. Fear rolled over me, making my legs weak. I wasn’t ready for this, whatever had happened. I guess I never thought it really would because if it had, I wasn’t taking it very well. I sat down at the table, tears popping into my eyes. Why am I not prepared for this? I wondered. My family had been storing supplies for a long time just in case of a disaster, natural, economic, or political. For anything that could disrupt the electric grid.
But who can really prepare for life to change in a moment to something new and unknown?
Dad said, “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. But I’ll get the generator going.” We have a whole-house generator that is kerosene fueled, and we’d always wondered if it would work after something like an EMP. Now we were going to find out.
I was still sitting with a despondent heart. My mother saw the look on my face and came over and rubbed my back.
“It’s okay,” she said, soothingly. “We’ll be okay.”
“I know we’ve talked about this,” I said, shaking my head. “But I can’t believe it. Think of all we’ve just lost, Mom!”
She shook her head back at me. “No. Think of all we still have.”
I stared at her a moment. I expected her to say, “At least we’re all in this together, that sort of thing. But she said even more than that. “We have each other, and we have God, and because we have God, we have everything we need.”
I stood up, still crying, and went into her arms, glad no one was around to see it. “How will I ever see my friends again?”
“Oh,” she said, in that same soothing tone, “Listen to what your father said. Don’t jump to any conclusions. We don’t know what’s happened. And no matter what, even if it really is an EMP, once the weather warms up we’ll be able to travel some. You’ll see your friends again, I’m sure of it.” Her voice sounded soft and reassuring in my ears, but the possible magnitude of the situation was still coming at me, like a long, slow train that you’re waiting and waiting to let pass.
The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set Page 4