The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. We can’t get in touch with Dad? And, how is he going to get home if his car won’t start? And if he can’t get home, he certainly can’t bring us a kerosene heater or any other supplies, like for the baby. I got a sick feeling in my stomach. And then it hit me. Richard was wrong! He had to be! We couldn’t survive if there were NO electronics, and our government wouldn’t be so stupid to let something like that happen. So I just don’t believe what he said. It’s too far out. Besides, there’s no other choice if I want to be okay and not lose my mind.

  RICHARD. IS. WRONG.

  LATE EVENING

  We’re sleeping in the living room. It seems warmer if we’re all in one room. Mom says Dad will probably make it home by tomorrow even supposing he had to walk. I didn’t say anything but I don’t see how that could happen. His company is forty-five minutes from home—by car. Even in good weather it would be a stretch to believe that. I think it would take him days to walk, but I didn’t say that to Mom. Besides, I’m still determined not to believe that ALL electronics got fried, as Richard said. I have to believe that dad will get here; I just don’t think it will be as soon as Mom thinks.

  So with the candles lit and scattered around the two main rooms of the apartment tonight, if it wasn’t so cold it would have been cozy.

  Richard sealed off the doorway to the kitchen with plastic sheeting and duct tape he found in Dad’s tool bin. Then he dragged throw rugs and sleeping bags and blankets onto the floor of the living room. I’m using my sleeping bag on the love seat and Mom has the sofa for her and Jesse.

  Richard will find out where the emergency shelter is tomorrow—he says every city has to have emergency shelters, even ours, even though we’re small as far as cities go. Anyway, since we don’t have a fireplace or anything like that, we may have to go there. I think if things don’t get any worse—meaning no colder than today—that we could stay right here until power comes back. I told Richard that and he said, “It isn’t coming back, Sarah. Not for a long, long time.” I rolled my eyes.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because every single electronic part that exists and was affected was completely burned out. They can’t be fixed. They can only be replaced, but the replacements would have to come from somewhere in the world that wasn’t affected. And who knows how long that could take. A month? A year? Five years? You wouldn’t believe how many things would need to be replaced just to get one major power source back up and running. The figure is astronomical.”

  I told him he didn’t know everything, and I hated him and he should go back to school.

  I have a bad temper.

  Then I rolled over and went to sleep. Sometime during the night I woke up, probably because Mom was changing the baby. Something felt wrong. My head. It was cold! I got up, groping around to find the front closet and then to find my favorite knit hat. Mom had one candle lit or it would have been pitch black. With my hat on I felt better but I couldn’t sleep. I lay there in the dark, thinking. I planned out all the things I was going to do as soon as our electric is back, like use a hair straightener and take that trip to the mall.

  SARAH

  JANUARY 12

  DAY TWO

  My hands were stiff with cold when I woke up. I tried a light switch to see if the power was back, but it wasn’t. So I was warming my hands over the stove when Richard came into the kitchen and stood there, hands on his hips. I knew he was going to annoy me but I ignored him, hoping he’d go away. He didn’t.

  “We don’t know how much gas we have left, Sarah. It could stop at any time. Don’t waste it.”

  “My hands are COLD,” I said. “I’m not wasting it.”

  “Save it for cooking for Mom and Jesse,” he said.

  I wish he’d stayed at college.

  “Didn’t you say you were going to the store today?” he asked. “What are you waiting for? Everyone else will want to stock up on the same things we want.” So I got ready to go, taking my mom’s credit card from her purse. Richard, watching me, made a sound in his throat.

  “What?”

  “Cash only, kid. With no power they won’t accept a credit card.”

  I’d forgotten. After I put on two layers of clothes and my coat and boots, I grabbed my saved money from my jewelry box and headed out of the apartment. The nearest grocery is only a couple of blocks away, so I knew where I was headed. There’s also a delicatessen, two fast food places, and one gas and convenience shop within a three block radius of our building. These are the places we go to most. I figured I had a good chance of finding some food in one or other of them.

  As soon as I left the apartment, the darkened hallway seemed ominous. I entered the stairs, where it was even darker. Creepy. I stood there for a minute to let my eyes adjust and then, after I’d gone down only one floor, I saw a man at the next landing, just standing there. He didn’t look like anyone who lived in the building because I would have recognized him.

  He’d heard me coming and stared up at me. I stopped moving. It was as though my blood froze. I turned around and ran back to the apartment. I’ve never been brave. It’s not one of my strong points.

  He didn’t threaten me or anything. I felt foolish as I ran back. But there was something frightening in the look on his face. I could only describe it in one way: He’d looked at me like I was a piece of meat. A THING. The thought crossed my mind that he was a porn addict or something. Anyway, I didn’t recognize him and I knew I couldn’t go back alone.

  Richard was standing on a step-stool in the kitchen searching the highest, seldom-used cabinets for something when I got back. He looked at me with surprise. Before he could say anything, I blurted out what happened. For once I was glad to have him there because he agreed to go with me to the store. He even surprised me by saying, “It wouldn’t have been brave for you to go on; it would’ve been stupid.” That made me feel better, but I know, deep inside, that if bravery had been called for, I would have come up empty. Anyway, we started down but when we reached the place where I’d seen the man, he was gone. I was glad.

  Outside, the streets were full of people—unusual for such cold weather. Some looked homeless, just wandering around aimlessly, waiting for someone to tell them where to go or what to do.

  Richard saw his friend Chad, who lives in another building down the street. He shook his head at us.

  “Can you believe this, man?” he asked. He was carrying a small plastic bag of groceries.

  Richard nodded. “I know. We’re headed to the grocery.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said, his eyes wide. “There’s a long line and—”

  Richard grabbed my hand and was turning away. “Thanks,” he said, and then, to me, “C’mon. We gotta get there before there’s nothing left.”

  “Cash only!” Chad yelled after us. “Good luck!”

  I was so happy I had the $100 dollars. When we turned the corner towards the store, we found a long line of people, stretching all the way up the block. Richard asked what they were in line for and found out they were trying to get into the same store as we were.

  We got in line at the end. I could see we were in for misery. Richard considered splitting up while he tried the gas and convenience store, but I didn’t want to be alone out there. Meanwhile, the weather felt colder than ever and I wasn’t warm when I left the apartment. Even with my hands in my pockets they were feeling numb before we’d moved more than a few feet forward. I thought half the town was in line ahead of us, but as we waited the line behind us kept growing.

  We moved intermittently, only inches at a time. My feet started burning. Was I getting frostbite? We heard a skirmish from the front of the line. A fight! The line broke up as everyone tried to see what was going on. I didn’t. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t even want to know, so I just stayed where I was.

  And then something went BANG!

  “Someone’s got a gun,” Richard said, bobbing his head to get the best vi
ew in that direction. At the word gun I felt my stomach flip. I was going to panic. I’d had panic attacks before and this one came on with wicked speed. In a blink, I could hardly breathe. I fell forward, trying to get a breath. Richard was not in sight. People were shouting and running and some girl started screaming and I wished I’d stayed home, and I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I slumped against the building and fell to the ground, not even feeling the snow or ice. I turned my face against the wall, and I didn’t realize it was me screaming until Richard came and put his arm around me.

  “Hey, it’s okay, no one got hurt. Some idiot just shot his gun into the sky to get everyone’s attention.”

  I was shaking, so Richard grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

  “C’mon, I’ll take you back,” he said, turning me towards the building. I started walking with him, still gasping in air. As we walked I felt the panic subsiding. It was like coming back to earth after being in limbo-land—panic attacks were like that—and I realized we were empty-handed. I stopped.

  “We can’t go back without something for Jesse and Mom.” He looked at me with surprise. I was sort of surprised myself, to be honest. Usually if I have a panic attack the ONLY thing I want to do is get home. I don’t feel safe anywhere else. And here, I’d heard an actual gunshot and I was saying we ought to go back towards it.

  “You sure you can do this? If you want to go back, I’ll get the formula.”

  I did want to go back. But not alone. What if that creepy guy was on the stairwell again? I hate lonely stairwells! While I was thinking what to do, he stepped back to look up the street.

  “Looks like it’s all over, so you may as well come with me.” I wondered if Richard could tell how afraid I was. I was embarrassed. We fell into step, going cautiously towards the store. The snow on the street was slushy ice from all the foot traffic, and I could now feel the wetness in my pants from when I’d slumped to the ground in my fear. At least there was no line to get in because everyone had dispersed. A man going the other way saw us and stopped. He’d been waiting near us in line, earlier.

  “Don’t bother,” he said, in a flat voice. “There’s nothing left. The shelves are empty.”

  “NOTHING?” I asked. I found that hard to believe.

  “The store owners took most of the stuff,” he said, “during the night. Everything else’s been sold. That fight was because two people wanted the same thing—I think it was baby food.”

  Richard and I looked at each other.

  “What about the convenience store?” Richard asked.

  “Same story,” he said.

  Richard blew out a breath. “What about McDonald’s? Is it open?”

  He shook his head. “People broke into McDonald’s—can you believe it? Just because they were so mad that it wasn’t open.” He scratched his head. “I never saw people so panicked—you’d think we’d never lost power before.”

  We thanked him and turned to walk home.

  Richard stopped. “I’m gonna go see if there’s anything left at McDonald’s or any of the other places.”

  “You mean steal things?” My mouth gaped open.

  His eyes were steely. “We need food, Sarah. Get this through your head. No trucks will be in to fill the grocery store shelves. Help is NOT on the way. No reinforcements are coming. We gotta do what we gotta do.”

  I wasn’t ready to believe that. “Maybe we should find the shelter.”

  He looked around at the people and took my arm, nodding in the direction of a guy who was shuffling along the edges of the sidewalk, studying the ground as though looking for lost coins. “You see that guy?” he asked. “I’ve seen him, before. He’s from that halfway house down the street. If there was a shelter to go to, I think someone would have taken him there.”

  I didn’t want to believe there was no shelter, but I was freezing and didn’t want to argue.

  “Well, I can’t go back alone.” My voice was whiny. Pathetic. It’s so embarrassing to be this way, but I can’t help it.

  He hesitated. “Fine. I’ll walk you back, but let’s hurry. Everything right now is a matter of getting to it first. And give me your cash in case I need it.” I handed it over.

  “Why do you think nothing’s open?” I asked. We had to talk in hurried breaths because we were walking so fast. Everything we passed was closed and dark: The travel agency, the beauty shop, and even the check cashing place. I was feeling sick again, as if the panic was returning and so I slowed down. Hurrying makes it worse.

  “Probably because whoever owns them couldn’t get here.” Then he said, “They couldn’t open anyway, with nothing working. They can’t heat their stores just like we can’t heat our apartment. McDonald’s couldn’t serve food if it was open, because it has no power either.” I hadn’t thought of that.

  “Don’t they have backup generators?”

  He shrugged. “They probably do, but they wouldn’t last long anyway.” We walked quickly and fell silent until we reached the building. Richard turned to go but I said, “What if that guy’s in there? You can’t go, yet!”

  He reluctantly walked me all the way up the ten flights of stairs. For once I was sorry we lived so high up. In good weather I liked to sit on the terrace and enjoy the height, the view of the roof-tops, and the breezes. Now being on the 10th floor seemed the dumbest thing possible.

  As we climbed up I said, “Maybe dad will bring some stuff with him when he comes home.” My brother gave me a strange look.

  “What? What is it?”

  “You think he’s coming home?”

  I gasped. “Of course! Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Think about it, Sarah. He works forty-five minutes from home by car. That’s like 25 miles. It was below freezing last night. Even if dad wanted to walk home, he’d freeze to death trying.”

  “Don’t say that!” I cried. “He’ll find a way! He’ll stay warm somewhere at night and walk during the day!”

  My brother said, “Yeah, wearing his regular coat—It’s not made for extreme cold. And he might not have gloves, since the car is usually warm. Or a hat. Just think about it.”

  “It’s been cold all week,” I said. “I’ll bet he was too wearing a hat and gloves!” But I didn’t know for sure. And I hated my brother at that moment for telling me these things.

  “Don’t say this stuff to Mom,” I said.

  “You think she hasn’t had the same thoughts?”

  “Why do you always have to be so negative? Can’t you just believe for the best—for once?”

  He shrugged. “I guess that’s why I’m a realist and you—you’re a dreamer.”

  “You don’t have to be a dreamer to believe for the best,” I muttered. But maybe he’s right about me not being a realist. I can’t tell. I do like to daydream about living in some fairyland existence where Prince Charming comes and takes me away on his white horse. What can I say? I was raised on Cinderella and “Ever After” and Pride and Prejudice.

  We passed the Methodist church which was now empty; no one was handing out any food or hot chocolate like they had, yesterday. It was a pretty brick building with stained glass windows. It reminded me of the Catholic church we used to go to, only it was smaller. I used to love studying the pictures within the huge stained glass windows of the Catholic church. And there was artwork on the ceiling—there were arches that ran along the aisles and their sides had been painted old style, like an Italian fresco, with saints and the Apostles. I could stare up at them forever—the service bored me—but Richard was always nudging me in the ribs to pay attention. What had happened to my brother? He no longer seemed to believe in God at all. Maybe it was because we’d stopped attending church as a family before we moved here. I liked not going, since I could sleep in. My parents didn’t bug me about it, so I didn’t go.

  But I believe in God. Still, I hadn’t once thought of Him since losing the power. I was guilty of not going to church and guilty for a lot of things. But right then and there I said a pra
yer that my dad would make it home.

  With food for Jesse.

  And a kerosene heater.

  AFTERNOON

  Back in the apartment I got warmed by the stove. Richard had told me not to, but my hands were frozen. My feet were too, and so I heated a pot of water and then dipped in a cloth, and put it on my feet. Mom saw what I was doing and didn’t say anything, which was nice because the cloth felt wonderful—for about half a minute. Then it got cold.

  Richard came home about an hour later. He had a bag of cold McDonald’s apple pies and another of chocolate milk. He said other people were in there with him, jostling each other and grabbing whatever they could find.

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “It’s only been a day without power and everyone’s acting crazy!”

  Richard plopped down next to me, opening an apple pie. “That’s because everyone knows this is bad.”

  I still didn’t want to believe that. “How do you know for sure? What if the power comes back later today or tomorrow?”

  He looked at me sideways, chewing. “It won’t.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because it’s not just the electric, Sarah. It’s everything. ALL electronics. It’s not just a power outage. It’s a catastrophic thing, like I told you, an electromagnetic pulse. It affected everything that’s electronic, and that’s why people are freaking out. When you can’t turn on the news, or drive anywhere, or heat your house or go to a store to buy more food, people WILL panic.”

  I took a shaky breath. “How long do you think it will last?” My mother came into the room carrying Jesse. She’d heard my question and looked at my brother, listening.

  He was silent a moment, looking down and fiddling with the sturdy paper wrapper of the pie. “A long time.”

  EVENING

  I spent as long as possible putting another coat of polish on my nails by candlelight and trying to hold on to my disbelief of Richard’s assessment. If I gave in and accepted that we were in for a long time without power, the thought was too frightening. But I was cold—even my nail polish hardened in record time. It’s tough trying not to believe things are bad when you can’t get warm in your own home.