Deep Shadows

by Vannetta Chapman

  “The Drop?”

  “Sure. The solar flare dropped down, the electrical grid dropped off the map, and any prospect of a normal life for you and me dropped out of sight.” Jason popped up the nose of his skateboard, kicked it into a spin, and landed back on it, smoothly maneuvering across their front walk in one fluid motion.

  “You skate better than you drive,” Carter said. Then a random thought pulsed through his head. “You know what? I miss cell phones.”

  “True that.” Jason popped the skateboard again, a smile playing across his face. “I wanted to text you earlier when my little sister was driving me batty, but I couldn’t. I had to deal with her instead. That’s my mom’s favorite new saying—deal with it.”

  “Yeah, but… I miss video games.”

  “And music. I have some on my phone, but I’m afraid to use what little juice is left in it.”

  “Television reruns.”

  “Air-conditioning.”

  “Microwave popcorn.”

  “Cold sodas.”

  “Facebook.”

  “Dude. You hate Facebook.”

  “Yeah, I did.” Carter glanced over at his car—something he’d made fun of when his mom wasn’t around. He understood it was the best car she could afford for him, and he appreciated it, but… well, it was a real joke. A Buick sedan that had been seriously used and abused. The hood was a different color from the body and the air-conditioning didn’t work. Still…

  “I miss driving.”

  Jason stopped messing around on his skateboard and dropped down beside him.

  “Want some tuna?”

  “Nah,” said Jason. “My mom pushed all the defrosted freezer leftovers on us before they ruined. I’m stuffed. Though I could go for a burger and fries in a major way.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Why aren’t you helping to dig down to the bedrock of Abney?”

  “One person per family—I worked the first few hours, and my pop took over the afternoon shift.”

  “There has to be a way we can fix this.”

  “The world?”

  Carter shrugged. “Maybe not that, but we’re the next generation, the millennials.”

  “Correct, dude. We’re the last of Generation Y.”

  “That all sounded so stupid when the speaker came to our school.” Carter finished his cheese stick and stuck the wrapper in the empty can of tuna. “What was his name?”

  “Motivational speaker… dude was in a wheelchair…” Jason snapped his fingers. “He reminded me of Stephen Hawking.”

  “His name was Raymond.”

  “Raymond’s World.”

  “He said that millennials—”

  “Which we are.”

  “Have the ability to adapt better than any generation before it—that we’ve seen more change in our lifetime than our parents or grandparents combined.”

  “We certainly have a major change to adapt to now.”

  “The Drop.”

  One thing Carter appreciated about Jason was that he allowed a person to randomly think. At the moment something big was whirring inside Carter’s brain. “We should be able to think our way past this.”

  “Got any specific ideas?”

  “No. I’m coming up blank.”

  “How about we start by getting the Brainiacs back together?”

  “Let’s not do anything drastic.” There were things about the Brainiac Club Carter had enjoyed—not that he thought of himself as a brainiac, but he fit in better there than he had with the sports crowd. It had filled a void throughout his freshman and sophomore years. The last two years had been too busy, what with work and college prep. Now the days spent in a lab designing outlandish experiments seemed like a thing from his childhood.

  “We swore off that two years ago,” Carter reminded Jason.

  “Because it was seriously affecting any chances we had with the girls, not to mention that little fire we started in Coach’s lab.”

  “Then Coach Parish missed a semester because his wife got sick.”

  “And he couldn’t sponsor us anymore.”

  Coach Parish’s wife had died not too long after that, but the old guy had looked so sad, so utterly bereaved, that no one had the heart to bring up reconvening the group of geeks. Now, though, he might be ready to see some of his old students. What else was he doing all day? Digging a latrine?

  “Might be a good idea,” Carter admitted. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Let’s do it.” Jason jumped up and mounted the skateboard again.

  “First we need to contact Coach, and then somehow find the other members of the Brainiacs.”

  “Zane and Quincy live near me.”

  “Maybe I’ll ask Kaitlyn.” When Jason gave him a look, Carter shrugged it off. “I’ll see her at work tomorrow, not that there’s much left at the store to sell.”

  “Wanna meet at the school at four?”

  Carter had latrine digging in the morning, his shift at the Market from ten to two, and patrol at four. He’d thought their new life would be boring… he’d even pictured himself lying on his bed and bouncing a tennis ball off the ceiling. At the moment, he was too tired to throw a ball.

  “Two thirty works better for me.”

  “That will work too.”

  “How do we get in contact with Coach Parish?”

  “He lives over by my gran. I saw him once when he was out walking a little dog. I’ll stop by and ask.”

  “Once we’re together, maybe we can think outside the grid.”

  “Ten four.” Jason held up his hand for a high five.

  Carter slapped his palm against his friend’s. It was juvenile—something they’d stopped doing in grade school. As Jason skated off, Carter realized he didn’t mind juvenile things so much. Being an adult? It wasn’t panning out like he’d hoped.

  FORTY

  Shelby came home to a can of tuna on the front porch, the neighbor’s cat licking hungrily at what little was left, and Carter sound asleep in his bed. A little odd for eight in the evening. A few minutes later Bianca came over to talk.

  “Carter worked on the digging?” she asked.

  “For a few hours, before his stint on the neighborhood watch group—which I’m not happy about.”

  “We didn’t realize we had the perfect life, did we?”

  “I don’t know how perfect it was, but it certainly was more manageable than this.”

  They moved to the back porch, which was barely big enough to hold two lawn chairs. Shelby peeked at the sky, relieved to see no sign of the aurora. She didn’t want to sit in the front where she would be forced to watch the street. She didn’t want to think of Mr. Evans or the blockades set up at both ends of their block. She wanted to pretend, if just for a few moments, that life was as it used to be.

  “Tell me about your shift at Green Acres.”

  Shelby paused, wondering if she should share all that she had seen. But this was Bianca—her closest friend besides Max. The four of them, when you included Patrick, made up the ragged support network that had seen her through the last fourteen years, ever since Alex had died and she’d become a single mom.

  In a way, Shelby had already been a single mom even before Alex’s death. His drug addiction had destroyed any semblance of a normal life. While her parents had been alive, they had been incredibly supportive. After Alex died, her dad was always bringing up the names of eligible bachelors—hinting that she should give love a try one more time.

  Shelby wasn’t interested in going through that particular type of heartache again.

  Their church had also provided help—prayer, meals when she had her appendix removed, and guidance when she didn’t know how to navigate the waters of single parenthood.

  But now they were all floundering, trying to get their feet back beneath them.

  “We transferred the patients who had died over to the morgue, but we have no way to contact their families. Food is limited, and there aren’t many peopl
e there to fix meals anyway. Although they have a big generator to power the medical equipment, they’re going to run out of medication. Everyone there is doing the best they can, but I’m not sure it will be enough.”

  “Do they need more volunteers?”

  Shelby shrugged. “Employees are beginning to trickle back to work. At least three showed up while I was there today—a nurse and two aides. They could only stay a few hours, as they had their own emergencies to tend to. But they cared enough to stop by.”

  “What did you do all day?”

  “Cleaned bedpans, offered sips of water, and occasionally took a temperature with the fancy thermometer that you wave over their forehead.”

  “At least bedpans, cups, and thermometers still work.”

  “Some of the residents understand what has happened, and others don’t. One old guy kept calling us to his room because he couldn’t get his television to come on. When we explained that the power is out, he seemed to understand, but twenty minutes later he’d call for help with it again.”

  “Papá is a little bit like that, and maybe it’s a blessing. Maybe if he completely understood the scope of the mess we’re in, it would frighten him too much.”

  “I think of your dad as a very capable man.”

  “He was. However, this illness has left him more childlike. Now he looks to Mamá for everything.”

  “How’s she holding up?”

  “Are you kidding? My mother is tougher than a solar flare. She’s in supercharged mode, which is why I’m here. She basically insisted that I leave for an hour.”

  “Well, I’m glad she did. It’s nice to be able to decompress with someone.”

  Shelby slipped inside to find them both a bottle of water. Max had purchased a case somewhere and left it in her kitchen. Did she take him for granted? Soon he’d be gone, and then she would be searching for her own water. But she could handle it. She and Carter weren’t helpless. She was turning to go back outside when she saw movement on her front porch. Her heart rate accelerated and she almost screamed, but suddenly she recognized Danny Vail, the city manager.

  Opening the front door, she motioned him inside. Once he entered she locked the door behind them.

  “Just stopping by to see how you’re doing.”

  Shelby somehow doubted that. How long had it been since he’d been to her house? Before and after Alex died, but certainly not since Carter started school—so 12 years at least. There was no way this was a casual visit. But she played along, nodded, and said, “Bianca and I are sitting on the back porch. There’s actually a breeze. Would you like a bottle of water?”

  “No, but thank you.”

  Bianca looked surprised when they both walked outside. Shelby’s mind flashed back to a month ago, when Bianca had suggested that Danny might be interested in pursuing a relationship with her. He had invited her out to eat after church, but that had been… well, that had been Danny being polite and nothing more. In fact, she didn’t think he’d been at church lately, or perhaps she just hadn’t seen him.

  “How are things at city hall?” Bianca asked.

  “About what you’d expect.”

  “I don’t think anyone knows what to expect.”

  “Confusion at first, followed by people dividing into camps.” He grimaced at the last word as he sat down on the porch floor and leaned back against a corner post.

  It was funny that he seemed at attention even as he sat on her porch. Perhaps that was something military men never lost—a sense of alertness. She’d noticed it in Patrick as well.

  “What kind of camps?” Shelby asked.

  “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.” Bianca glanced over at Shelby.

  “I’m not surprised, though.” She shrugged. “There are factions within every group.”

  “I suppose there usually are.” Danny reached a hand up and rubbed the muscles along the back of his neck. “When this thing first hit I thought it would split into young and old—the old having trouble accepting the scope of the problem, and the young going into disaster recovery mode.”

  “But it hasn’t worked out that way.” Suddenly her throat was dry, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what Danny was about to say. Shelby uncapped her bottle and took a long drink. Why was Danny here? Why was he sharing this information with them?

  “Nope. We have people who refuse to react, those who overreact, and then a precious few who are reacting thoughtfully.”

  “Sounds like a mess. Como siempre.”

  “It does seem to develop that way. It’s worse than I expected, though. Eugene Stone is making moves to force Mayor Perkins’s resignation.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” Shelby crossed her arms tightly.

  “She wouldn’t want to, but it might depend on how much pressure Stone can add to the situation.”

  “He wants the job,” Bianca said.

  “He does. In the event of a vacancy, the mayor pro tem immediately assumes office.”

  “Eugene Stone.” Shelby felt sick to her stomach.

  “The process to remove her from office is lengthy and difficult, as it should be. Stone wants to be in charge now, and he’s not beyond stooping to underhanded, even illegal means to achieve that.”

  “Like what?” Shelby glanced again at Max’s house. Perhaps she should go and get him. He needed to hear this.

  “Stealing supplies from Croghan, requisitioning what little the shop owners have, intimidating people to hand over their supplies for the general good—we’ve had all sorts of complaints. Of course Stone denies it all, and it comes down to their word against his.”

  The three fell silent as they digested the possible collapse of their local government.

  “Why are you here, Danny?” The words popped out before Shelby could corral her thoughts. “I doubt you came by to catch us up on current events. It’s nice to see you, but…”

  “But I haven’t been here in a long time, and you’re wondering why I bothered to visit tonight.” Danny placed his palm against the smooth boards of the porch. “After Alex died, I made a vow to myself that I would do what I could to help.”

  “We’re fine.”

  Danny grinned ruefully.

  “So you have assured me, every time I’ve tried.” He held up a hand to stop her argument. “I’m not criticizing you. I admire what you’ve done, and Carter… well, he seems to be an upstanding young man.”

  “Thank you, but even if we weren’t okay, you’re not responsible—”

  “I know I’m not, in one sense. In another, maybe I could have done more to intervene before Alex sped past the point of no return.”

  “Because you were deployed with him? Were you supposed to anticipate and intervene in his crisis?” Shelby shook her head, suddenly too tired to argue. “Even I didn’t fully understand the scope of Alex’s problems, and I was living with him. Besides, that’s the past.”

  “The distant past,” Bianca agreed.

  “And I’d rather leave it there.”

  “It is, and you’re both probably right.” He stood, paced the length of the porch, and stared out at the night. When he turned to face them, he said, “We’ve had contact with Fort Hood.”

  FORTY-ONE

  You’ve been in touch with the base?” Somewhere in Shelby’s mind bloomed the bright thought of communication restored, which too quickly wilted with Danny’s next words.

  “Not directly. A few soldiers returned late last night from maneuvers. Took a little detour and just happened to contact one of our patrols.”

  “Took a detour?” Shelby stared at him in disbelief. “Sounds like they were AWOL.”

  “No. Not yet. They returned before anyone noticed and claimed it was a mechanical problem.” Danny stared out into the evening sky, which was just beginning to darken. “According to them, and these are men I know and trust, there’s a power struggle going on between state and federal entities.”

  “What type of power struggle?” Bianca sat up straighter
and appeared more interested in the conversation.

  “Texas has an abundance of resources, and the feds want access to them. Every military installation is comprised of troops from all over the country, but a fair number of those stationed at Fort Hood are locals. The powers that be are not going to send those troops into their hometowns with commands to take supplies away from Mom and Pop and the neighbors.”

  “So there’s nothing to worry about.” Shelby twisted the bottle cap on and off, on and off. “The soldiers would refuse their orders.”

  “It isn’t that easy. Enlisted men—and women—can’t just ignore orders, but they can work to sabotage them, if they’re not caught. Anyway, the word going around is that at the moment the military is attempting to deploy troops domestically, and re-forming regiments so that soldiers are sent away from their hometowns.”

  “And they think that will work?” Bianca asked.

  Danny shrugged. “At the same time, state troops are gearing up for a confrontation. There could be trouble.”

  Shelby stood now, anxiety surging through her. How would she protect Carter from civil anarchy? Did it have to be one emergency after another? How long would things continue to get worse? “What does this have to do with us?”

  “I’m not sure it does or will. There’s not much in Abney for the feds to requisition, except for our water. At this point there’s plenty of that, and there’s no need to limit anyone’s access. My guess is the military will be more interested in fuel supplies, and assets such as ammunition, grocery warehouses, pharmaceutical supplies, et cetera.”

  “This is loco.” Bianca’s accent grew stronger as she wound herself up. “Domestic supplies are not under the jurisdiction of the US military. People are barely making it as things stand, and the government should be helping us, not plundering our supplies.”

  “I agree, but in their minds a strong military will help to defend our country.” He cleared his throat, and then he got to the point of his visit. “I have a few friends who own places outside of town. If either of you would rather wait this thing out in a more remote location, I could make it happen.”

  “And move Papá? Again? No. I won’t put him or Mamá through it. And I won’t be intimidated by someone who thinks they are”—she made quotation marks in the air—“protecting us.”