The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “SO—give us some time, okay?”

  I stared at her for a moment. “Every time I think about Andrea I just want to cry.” I paused, thinking. “Dad said once that a person can live for three weeks without food but only three hours without shelter in poor weather. And that’s all we’ve had—really poor weather.”

  “They’re not without shelter,” my mom insisted. “Even a big house with only a fireplace still has a fireplace. Stop catastrophizing.” She got up and left.

  I felt badly after she left. Was I doing that? Catastrophizing? If so, I couldn’t help it. I sighed and closed my book. I was using a roll-out bed, and I got up and then fell to my knees beside it. I really needed to know. Was I imagining this feeling of urgency regarding Andrea? Was I imagining it was a message from God? Maybe it was giving me a sense of importance, as though God could only speak to ME.

  “Holy Spirit, help me. Dear Lord, please give my parents an assurance about doing this if helping the Pattersons is really Your will.” I continued praying for a long time. At least twenty minutes or more. I’d like to say I prayed until I felt God answering me. I didn’t. I didn’t hear an answer. But as dramatic as it sounds, I feel no less sure that we need to save the Pattersons. You don’t have to catastrophize, as my mom said, when the world does it for you—we were living a social catastrophe.

  LEXIE

  JANUARY 17

  DAY SEVEN

  Justin is still feverish and lethargic. Mom says fevers are more dangerous for babies than adults or older kids because they dehydrate quickly. And Justin refuses to eat or drink, so dehydration is a real threat.

  It’s the first time in my life I realize how important a doctor is. I mean I really get it, now. It’s a thing I took blissfully for granted in the past. If you got hurt, you went to the doctor or urgent care, or even the emergency room of a hospital. Now there is no quick way to get to any of those places, and even if we did get there, who’s to say whether there would be a doctor? Hospitals had medical personnel on site when the pulse hit but who knows whether they’d stay on the job with no power? They’d want to try to get home themselves. It’s like every day a new aspect of the danger of this situation—living without power—is dawning on me.

  Justin’s eyes look sunken. I pleaded with him to take a few sips of apple juice when Mom was trying to get some down his throat, but to no avail. He just clamped that little mouth shut. When he even refused his next dose of medicine, Mom said, “That’s it! I’ve had enough.” She put a fresh kettle of water on the wood stove; then she took a dropper from a drawer and cleaned it with the water once it came to a boil.

  (Meanwhile, Lainie came along and touched the kettle while it was hot and burned her hand. Mom had to stop and grab butter, which she rubbed over the burn. She’s been studying home remedies for a long time. I guess they work because Lainie stopped crying right away. She’s happily playing Boggle, Jr. with my dad right now just as if nothing happened.)

  Anyways, Mom took the dropper and extracted the right amount of baby medicine into it. After strapping Justin into his high chair, she forced his mouth open with one hand while pointing the dropper inside his jaw, to the side. She explained that he’d have no choice but to swallow. He fidgeted and wailed and tried to stop her something awful, so I had to hold his little hands and arms. It worked, though! He swallowed the stuff. I felt sorry for him, like we were being mean. When she did the same thing with a few droppers of juice, I told her it seemed a little brutal.

  “Would you rather have your baby brother die of dehydration?” she asked, casually.

  I kept quiet after that.

  A half hour later I noticed that Justin already looked better! I guess moms do know a thing or two.

  I’m lucky to have my parents. Even my dad seems to have been born for a time of crisis. He says no one prepares better for a disaster than God, and by following biblical principles, he feels ready for this. King Solomon had twelve men in charge of providing food for his household, one man for each month of the year. So a long time ago my dad put mom in charge of storing food for one month at a time until she stored enough for two years.

  But our family always prayed that God would raise up a ‘Joseph’ to store food for our whole country just like Joseph did for Egypt way back when. If people in ancient days could store enough grain to get through a famine, why shouldn’t we, with all our knowledge, be able to do that today? But we never saw a Joseph rise up. When we talked about this once Mom said there’s no Joseph because the world has Jesus. Jesus’s offer of eternal life beats having grain in a famine, she said. Grain will perish, this life will pass away, but eternal life? That lasts forever! She thinks that if God allows our country to experience a catastrophic event that causes famine (and it seems that He has) it is because there are more important things than just eating and living mindlessly. She sees it as a national call to repentance. A call to come to the true Bread of Life.

  I still wish we had a Joseph. Maybe I’m not valuing my salvation enough, but I still wish there was a way for everyone to be taken care of like we are.

  I don’t mean we’ll be living like kings—Mom stored beans and rice and grains in huge quantities—but it will keep us alive. And because Mom loves good food, she stored all kinds of things to liven up the staples. Solomon’s household needed tons of food each day—you can read about it in the book of 1 Kings, and I mean, literally, tons. For a single day his provision was “thirty bushels of fine flour, and sixty bushels of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, a hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelles, roebucks and fattened fowl.” This was for ONE day! There was “barley also and straw for the horses.” My parents figured if Solomon’s needs could be met, then so could our family’s.

  But life is harder now. Everything has to be done by hand. Tomorrow we have to do laundry. Up to now I’ve been spot-cleaning our clothing. If we have to immerse it in water, it’s going to be a big job and a big mess and will take a lot of space to hang dry. I can understand why they only did laundry once a week in the old days. Even once a week will be too often for my liking now.

  LATE AFTERNOON

  Mrs. Preston wasn’t feeling well. We found out her oxygen tank was empty! We didn’t realize they would just run out with no sort of alarm or warning or anything. So now I know how to read the gauge on top of the canister and I’ve hooked her up to a new one and she’s back to rocking in her favorite chair. And Justin seems to be improving! He got interested in Butler, rousing from his usual stupor to grab the cat’s tail. When he did, Butler turned and whipped his claws out, raking the baby’s hand. When Justin didn’t cry, I checked his hands and found nothing, not the slightest scratch.

  Mrs. Preston scolded the cat something awful. When she finally turned to see the damage, her eyes got so big. She couldn’t believe it. It was like a miracle. We talked about it for minutes—how we’d both seen the cat scratch him. How could he have missed? How often does a cat miss? I think that was the Lord watching out for my baby brother. And if he can keep him from getting scratched by a cat, he can heal this fever.

  But I still worry about Mrs. Preston because of the tanks. The larger ones only last a couple of days and that’s if we ration her use of it. She doesn’t need it much if she just rocks the baby, but she often insists upon helping us with chores. Her favorite activities—besides holding Justin—are peeling potatoes or carrots (which we have in bulk in the root cellar) or sifting through clothes to spray with stain remover.

  Her needing oxygen made me think about other people I know who are dependent on medicines like my friend Craig Densen. He’s in two of my classes. He’s a Christian like me so we’ve had lots of talks about the Bible and theology. But he has Type I diabetes. And so does Mrs. Wasserman, my History and Geography teacher. She lives alone with her two dogs—what will happen to them when they run out of insulin?

  Dad told me once that Type I diabetics used to die young before they had insulin shots. I’m starting to cry as I write, th
inking about Craig.

  I asked God why this is happening, but I didn’t really expect an answer. But here’s a secret: If I get deep in prayer—falling on my knees and maybe even on my face—I’ve felt the presence of God. It’s awesome. It’s almost scary, except that I know God is love, and loves me. How do I know? Just by believing the Bible, I guess. It’s a wonderful feeling when I have that assurance of His presence. But lately I’m keeping Him at arm’s length. I think I’m too mixed up and angry to pray. I know we’re some of the lucky ones—I should be grateful that we’re provided for. But I’m upset about all the people who aren’t.

  I didn’t think I’d ever miss school, but I do, even kids I’m not friends with. I miss Andrea most of all. I wish I could hear her voice or just send a text!! It’s been a whole week without power and my dad still doesn’t want to go and see if her family needs help. I wish she lived closer, ‘cos then I know he’d do it. I wish I knew how to convince him that we need to. I’m waiting on God to do that.

  PART THREE

  SARAH

  AGE 16, JANUARY 11

  DAY ONE

  I thought it was so cool when the power went out. Especially when Mom said I could stay home from school. I figured she really just wanted me to be around to help with Jesse but I didn’t care. I’m not crazy about school and a day off is a day off.

  Jesse is almost three but we call him ‘the baby,’ and he cooperates by acting like one. My mother loves it. She always said Richard and I grew up too fast. Anyway, Jesse’s not really ours—he’s Aunt Susan’s, but she was going through a messy divorce and asked my mom to keep him for awhile. The divorce went through, but we’ve had him for two years now. I feel like he’s my baby brother.

  So with the power out I thought it was the perfect opportunity to pretend we were in the nineteenth century—you know, like those people on that reality TV show? They had to live without electricity or modern conveniences for one full month and they acted like it was sheer misery. I didn’t feel sorry for them because it was, like, a TV show—they were probably getting paid a fortune. They HAD to complain to make it interesting. We, on the other hand, would take it gracefully, as if we were living in the time of Pride and Prejudice. No electricity? No problemo.

  Only, I was wrong. But I didn’t know that yet.

  The gas stove worked, so I made us scrambled eggs. There was still running water, so we filled two pitchers and the tub. I dug out all the candles I could find, and I’ve been lighting them because it’s a dark sort of day, what with the snow and all. Mom tried to call Dad to tell him to pick up milk and toddler food on his way home but then we found out the phones are dead; and even our cell phones aren’t working.

  Weird.

  “This must be a huge power outage,” I said.

  “Get Richard,” Mom said. So I woke up my older brother. He’s home from college for the winter break. I guess it’s good he’s here during this outage but usually I’m glad when he’s away. See, my dad works overtime a lot so Richard thinks he’s gotta be like a father to me. I hate that about him.

  “Power’s out,” Mom told him, when he appeared, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I need you to run down to the grocery for me.”

  Richard grabbed a banana and went out. I was relieved that he had to go and not me because I didn’t feel like getting bundled up, first, and second, when there’s no power we have to walk ten flights down to the street. We live on the top floor of our building.

  LATER

  So Richard’s back. But he didn’t get much from the store. They would only accept cash and Richard had $11. Mom rifled through her things and found $40 and sent him back out. But when he came home the second time the only real food he had was one additional canister of baby formula, a package of hot dogs and a few energy bars. He also got the last half-gallon of milk the store had, and one six-pack of bottled water. It took a long time for him to come back. He said the place was jam-packed and everything was selling out.

  I remembered after he left that I had $100 of birthday and Christmas money I’d saved for a shopping spree with Lexie and Andrea, but it was too late to give it to him. I hope the store will have more stuff tomorrow. I’ll go and spend my shopping money, and maybe my dad will replace it for me so I can go to the mall after this is over.

  Richard disappeared a third time and brought back two cups of hot chocolate and a package of blueberry muffins from the Methodist Church on Main Street. They had a stand out front and were giving them out. But he could only carry two up all those stairs. I hope the elevators will work tomorrow when I go to the street!

  With no stores open and nothing working, it actually got boring to be home. I almost wished I was at school. Mom used the oven for a little while to put out heat but my brother says she can’t do that. He says we’ll all die of carbon monoxide poisoning if she does that for too long. (That was scary.) And when Richard saw we’d washed the dishes, he said it was stupid!

  “Fill up any container we have,” he said. “The water could stop coming at any time for all we know.”

  Mom and I looked at each other. “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “What, has it stopped already?” he asked.

  I nodded. He rolled his eyes and walked off, shaking his head. He’s so negative he makes me sick. But I wished I’d thought of filling up a lot of little containers.

  Now he’s wracking his brain, trying to figure out a way to warm up the apartment. He says the problem is that any open flame would build up carbon monoxide just like the gas stove. We have one space heater, but it’s electric, so it’s useless. We’ve only lived in this building for nine months and this is the first time we’ve lost water as well as electricity. It’s also the first time we’ve had no heat. I don’t like it.

  LATER

  I wish Dad were here. He’d know what to do. Richard is playing dad, which is really annoying as usual. He saw me heading to the bathroom and said, “Sarah.”

  I wondered what pesky thing he was going to say now.

  “If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.”

  When it sunk in, what he’d said, I made a face and turned to go on.

  “I mean it, Sarah! All we’ve got is that water in the tub to make the system flush. Don’t waste it! In fact, we should only flush once a night, because we don’t know how long this is going to last.”

  Ugh. There went my Pride and Prejudice fantasies.

  When I got back Richard said, “Has anyone called Dad? We need to tell him to pick up a kerosene heater. We should really have something like that here. While he’s at it, he should get water and more formula.”

  “The phones aren’t working,” Mom said, making a face.

  “Use your cell phone,” he said.

  “That’s not working either,” Mom said. “Unless you want to go out on the balcony and try it there. Maybe we just have bad receptivity today.”

  We’re all wearing sweaters but Richard grabbed a hat and gloves and went out to the balcony. He took all the cell phones and tried them, one at a time. He was out there so long I went out too. Far away, probably ten to fifteen miles in the distance, there was a plume of black smoke rising into the air. It was far from the blocks of rooftops that comprised our little city.

  I nudged Richard. “You see that?”

  He looked at the smoke. “Yeah. It’s a fire.”

  “So what’s happening with the phones?”

  “They don’t have power,” he said. “It’s not just coverage. They’re dead.” We returned inside.

  “I know mine should be charged.” He looked at me, because I was always losing my charger and had “borrowed” his in the past without asking. Then he got a funny look on his face and plopped down on the sofa.

  “At the store I heard people saying their cars weren’t working. And the street was weird, quiet like. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But there was NO traffic. No buses, no trucks, no cars, nada.” He got up and went back out to the balcony. I saw him leanin
g out to look down the street, first one way, and then the other. He came back in. I was examining my nail polish, trying to decide if I should put on a second coat, waiting for him to make a point.

  “I have a terrible suspicion I know what’s going on,” he said. “I’ve heard about something that could cause this, a complete black-out, a failure of electronics.”

  “What?” Mom asked.

  “Wait. I’ll be right back,” he said. “I want to check some things out.” He went out and was gone for about an hour. I did my nails and put on makeup because I had nothing better to do. When he came back, he looked different. Really weighed down, or something.

  “Did you find anything out?” Mom asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Nothing’s working.”

  “We already knew that,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not a regular power failure,” he said. “This is something else, probably an electromagnetic pulse.”

  “A what?” I asked.

  “Electromagnetic pulse. A solar flare causes it. We just learned about this at school. It’s from the sun. It knocks out everything electronic.”

  He started explaining what that meant but I got upset and didn’t want to hear it. I had been trying to enjoy the outage, even starting this journal by candlelight. I was a modern-day pioneer, or a—an author, like Jane Austen, writing in longhand, lighting candles! I’d already layered up on clothing because the only heat we have is residual from being on the top floor of the building, but it was going away fast. Richard was ruining it! (He thinks he’s so smart just because he’s in college.)

  My mother started crying and I ran to my room so I wouldn’t have to hear him talking about it. I flicked on the TV to hear what the news had to say--only the television was dead, which I should have expected. As I sat there in the quiet, I realized that if Richard was right, and there’s no transportation, that my dad is stranded at his job. No wonder mom was crying. Stupid Richard!