by Eric Walters
“It feels good to be on the water,” she said.
It did. I was glad to have an ever-widening swath of water between us and everybody else.
“How far is it across the harbor?” I asked.
“At the far end by the airport the gap is only a few hundred yards, but we’re closer to the middle so it’s probably about two miles,” she said.
We were paddling at an angle toward the island, which made it an even longer trip. It did, however, give me a view to my left, back toward the city. With each stroke of the paddle the panorama became larger and clearer. There were dozens and dozens of office towers and condominiums stretching up to the sky. Each held thousands of people who either worked or lived there, and it seemed like nearly all of those people were out on the streets.
The wind was getting stronger and it was whipping up the waves. We were catching a lot of spray. I was grateful for my life jacket. I started digging in deeper, trying to move us closer to the island. I knew my mother was working hard as well.
“It’s really pretty,” Ethan said.
“We should have come out in the canoe before this,” my mother said.
The island’s shore was a combination of rocks and sand and places where the trees and the brush came right down to the edge of the water. I looked back over my shoulder at the city towers. They were so close but so far away. How could two places that looked so different be so close together?
“I don’t see anybody,” I said.
“That’s good for camping,” my mother said. “Let’s head in there and look for a spot to put ashore.”
We paddled into a lagoon. It was sheltered water with no waves. There were some Canada geese, a few ducks, and a pair of swans, but there was no sign of people.
“Do you think there are fish in here?” my brother asked.
“It’s a lake, so there are fish,” my mother said.
“If I caught something, could we eat it?” he asked.
“If you catch it, I’ll clean it and cook it,” my mother said.
“I’m just going to have some noodles.”
“More for us!” my mother said.
“Assuming he can catch anything.”
As we continued to paddle we passed through smaller channels that separated even smaller islands. From high up in our condo, I hadn’t realized how many of them there were. It was calm and quiet, and the city was now out of sight completely, which made it feel even calmer.
“Let’s put in right there,” my mother said, pointing with her paddle. “Then we’ll have our own little island. We can be away from everything and everybody.”
Somehow, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
4
My brother had fished all day and caught nothing, so we ended up having a chicken stir-fry cooked over an open campfire for dinner. I liked the food. What I didn’t like was sitting around all day doing nothing but watch my brother not catch any fish.
After dinner I sat on a log looking back across the harbor at the city. It was the one spot on our little island from which part of the city could be seen. Not that there was much to look at. The towers were just darker silhouettes against the dark horizon. There were so many stars, though. It felt like being somewhere up north away from the city, instead of just across the open harbor from it.
There were still a few lights visible. Were they from emergency generators? Some of them were moving—those must have been the old cars and trucks that were still working.
For the hundredth time, I turned my phone on, hoping to see it light up, to see that everything was normal again. So far it was as dark as the city. More than anything else I wished that I could just call Dad and let him know that we were all right. Even if he was halfway around the world I was sure he’d have heard about this. I just wanted him to know. Actually, what I really wanted was for him to be sitting here on the log beside me.
I heard a twig snap and spun around. A flashlight was bobbing toward me. It had to be my mother. There were only three of us on this little patch of land. I knew that because we’d checked out the whole thing before we’d set up camp. It wasn’t that big, but big enough that where we set up our camp—in a clearing in the very middle, surrounded by trees and bushes—we were hidden from all sides.
My mother sat down on the log beside me.
“Is Ethan asleep?”
“He was practically asleep before his head hit the pillow. Do you see anything over there?”
“Nothing. I can’t see anything except some flashes of light,” I replied.
“That’s certainly something. Could you see our condo before it got dark?”
“There are so many buildings and they all blur together.” I held up the binoculars that were still hanging around my neck. “These were good until it got dark.”
“Night-vision goggles would have been useful, but even they need some light to work.”
“There is some light,” I said, gesturing skyward. “Have you thought about why this is all happening?”
“I’ve thought a lot but I don’t have any answers. The power I understand, but the cars and the phones…that just doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“If the electricity is gone then the cellphone towers might not have power to relay messages.”
“But that still doesn’t come close to explaining why the apps, and even the flashlight on the phone, don’t work. And what about the cars and trucks and planes not working?” she asked.
“So you don’t know.”
“All I know is that we’re here, together, and safe,” my mother said. “We have warm sleeping bags in a waterproof tent. We had a good meal and, with our water-purifiers, we have a lake full of water that we can drink.”
“But for how long?” I asked.
“I packed for four days of camping. We’re good for that long.”
I nodded. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t last four days. We had nothing to worry about…but still I worried.
“I was wondering, why did you make us bring the canoe right up to our campsite?”
“I didn’t want it to potentially drift away.”
“Normally we just tie it to a tree. That would be enough. You know that.”
She nodded. “I wanted it really safe.”
“Were you afraid somebody would steal it?”
“There are lots of people looking for a way to get around. I don’t want our canoe to be that way.”
“We could have set up camp by the canoe instead of in the middle of the island if you wanted to watch it. You didn’t want anybody to see us either, did you?”
“I’d prefer that nobody knows we’re here.”
“But why?”
“If I told you, you’d think I was a little crazy.”
“Look out there,” I said, gesturing to the darkened city. “Is any of this not crazy? Just tell me.”
She hesitated, as though she was gathering her words. “I’ve been in some pretty desperate parts of the world.”
“The Marines don’t usually send people to resorts.”
“Yeah, Club Iraq and the Syrian Sandals are not among their most typical locations.” She laughed. “You do a tour of duty in a place where bad things are happening and you see things that you can’t believe are possible. War can bring out the very best and the very worst in people…usually the worst.”
“But this isn’t a war.”
“Of course not. Look, I shouldn’t even be talking about any of this. It isn’t like I have any information to go on.”
“But you have been thinking,” I said. “Maybe too much.”
I waited for her to go on. Was she thinking about what to say, or if she should say it to me?
“I want to know what you’re thinking,” I said. “Please tell me.”
She let out a big sigh before continuing. “The world is a three-dimensional place—things that you see all around you.”
So far that only sounded a bit silly.
“But I’ve seen another dimen
sion, to the world and to people. There’s a fourth dimension to people that you don’t normally see. Normal, nice people in normal and nice circumstances become different when bad things happen. Desperate situations cause people to do desperate things.”
“But this isn’t desperate…is it?”
She shrugged. “We had a nice meal tonight. We have water to drink and a warm place to sleep. We’re safe. How many people aren’t going to have all of that tonight?”
“A lot.”
“And what if it goes on for two or three days, or even more?” she asked.
“Do you think that’s possible?” Now I was getting more worried again.
“Like I said, I have no information to base anything on. All we have to go on is what we see, and what I know about people,” she said.
“Now you’re sounding like you expect them to turn into zombies or something,” I said, trying to joke around.
Her answer was simple and chilling. “They can turn into worse.”
She put an arm around me and pulled me close.
“I shouldn’t be burdening you with any of this,” she said. “It’s not zombies, not a war, probably nothing at all. We’ll wake up tomorrow and all of this will be fixed.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course.”
She pulled me closer still, and I felt a lump against my side and instantly realized what it was.
“You’re wearing your holster and gun!”
She moved slightly away. “I was going to take it camping to protect us from wild animals. There’s always the potential for bears.”
“There are no bears out here. The wildest animal is a swan or goose.”
“I didn’t want to leave it in the condo. I thought it was more responsible to bring it along. You know, just in case.” I wanted to ask her Just in case of what? but I didn’t.
My attention was caught by something on the far shore,
in the city. It was a small spot of light in the darkness. Was it a generator, or had some lights come back on…? No, it was a fire.
“Emma, let me have the binoculars,” my mother said, looking across the water.
She brought them up to her eyes and stared at that spot. It seemed to be getting bigger by the second.
“It looks like it’s a fire on the edge of the water,” she said, answering my unasked question. “Probably just a big bonfire. That’s all.”
Even though I couldn’t see that far, for a second I thought I could sense what she was talking about—out there was the fourth dimension.
5
I smelled fire and sat bolt upright in my sleeping bag. The tent was empty. Light was flowing through the thin nylon material so I could see perfectly. For a second I didn’t know where I was, but then the burning odor of the fire brought it all back.
Last night my mother and I had sat on the log and watched across the harbor as that little fire in the city became bigger and bigger and bigger. It wasn’t a bonfire. It was a building that had caught fire and ultimately, we thought, burned to the ground. At its height it had thrown off enough light for us to see through the binoculars what it was—a warehouse right on the lake. Finally, as the flames died, around 3:00 in the morning, we went to bed.
It was hard to believe that the smell of the fire had drifted this far. No, wait, it wasn’t just a fire. Something smelled good.
I climbed out of the sleeping bag, unzipped the tent, and crawled out. My mother and brother were sitting on stones around a little fire, and she was cooking fish!
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” my mother said.
“Morning. Ethan, you caught a fish?”
“I caught three fish. And I’m prepared to share this one with you,” Ethan said.
“That’s very nice of you.”
“I am the nice one, remember?” he said.
My mother forked it onto a plate and handed it to me along with utensils. She also added a piece of buttered toast and scrambled eggs that were in a little bowl staying warm by the fire.
“Thank you so much.”
The fish tasted the way only a fresh fish grilled over an open fire could. Delicious.
“So what are we going to do today?” I asked my mother.
“I thought we might go for a paddle.”
“Back to the city?”
“Over to Main Island to walk around. We can talk to some people and see what they know.”
“Could I stay here and fish?” my brother asked.
“There’ll be time for fishing later on, and probably a swim. But right now I just want us to have some quality time together.”
Was this about spending “quality time” together or not leaving him alone? I knew that in every horror movie I’d ever seen the worst thing anyone ever did was go off alone. We’d be staying together. Even if my mother didn’t insist on it, I would.
—
We paddled to the big island and then hid the canoe. It took a long time but my mother cut branches and brush with her hunting knife, and we piled it on until the canoe was invisible even from a few feet away.
As we walked along the manicured paths, I noticed that there were little green shoots just breaking the soil in the recently planted flower beds. We stopped at an intersection, peering at the posted signs. In one direction were the ferry dock and the marina. A path led another way to the amusement park and a petting zoo. The third sign pointed toward the community, which was called Ward’s Island.
“Which way do we go?” I asked.
“I vote for that direction,” Ethan said, pointing toward the amusement park.
“It won’t be working,” I said.
“I don’t think the petting zoo needs electricity.”
“We’ll go to the ferry dock,” our mother said.
“Are we going…wait, the ferry isn’t working, is it?” I asked.
“No, but there might be people there who can give us information. I don’t think the animals at the zoo will know much.”
We came up to the dock quickly where dozens—no, hundreds of people were standing and sitting on the benches and grass nearby. They had obviously spent the night out here and were probably tired, cold, and hungry.
Off to one side was the marina. There were thirty or forty boats, ranging from small motorboats to big yachts that looked like they were not only worth a fortune but could sleep a lot of people. I was wondering why those people hadn’t just taken over the boats, and then I saw the answer. The docks holding the boats were blocked off by a high metal fence and a gate. Standing at the gate was a guard.
Just then a little boat came chugging up to the docks, belching black smoke, the engine sounding loud and rough. There were two men on board, one of whom threw out a line, which was hauled in by a man on the dock. In unison the crowd got to their feet and surged toward the incoming boat. I had a vision of them all rushing the boat and sinking it.
Crack! A gun fired, and the crowd suddenly stopped moving.
My mother grabbed me and my brother by the arms and pulled both of us off to the side.
One of the men on the boat was standing at the bow, and in his raised hand was a pistol. He started to speak—loudly.
“I can take ten people over to the city every trip. I can make enough trips to take you all, but if you’re pushing and shoving I’m just leaving.”
The crowd settled to silence. Despite the gun, he was trying to do the right thing and be a good guy.
“The first group I take will be those who can offer me enough money to make it worth my trip…you know, my time and gas.”
So much for him being nice. This was a business deal.
“How much?” a man asked.
“Yeah, how much for a ride?” another yelled.
“There’s no set price. It’s like an auction. I’ll take the ten highest bidders,” the man said.
“You can’t do that!” another man yelled.
“It’s my boat, my gas, and my gun. I can do what I want. I’m not forcing
anybody to do anything. Feel free to take another boat.”
“The other boats are locked up,” a woman said, pointing to the marina.
“I noticed that too. Basic supply and demand. I have the supply and you all have the demand. If nobody wants to get back to the city then I’ll just—”
“I’ll pay!” a woman called out. “I have a hundred dollars!”
“I have two hundred and a watch! It’s a really nice watch!” a man called out. He took the watch off his wrist and held it out.
More and more people started calling out offers. Voices got louder and then some people started arguing and shoving each other. Mom moved us farther back and to the side.
“I want to see but I don’t want to be caught up in it,” she said.
“What’s going to happen?”
“This could get ugly fast. It’s better for us if they all get back to the city.”
“It is?”
“The fewer people here the better for us. I want to talk to that marina guard. Come on.”
We bypassed the crowd—which was starting to feel more like a mob—and went to where the guard was posted on the other side of the high chain-link fence. He was wearing a uniform with a matching hat, and he had a gun holstered at his side.
“I can’t let you in,” he said as we approached. He was younger than I had expected—maybe in his early twenties—and the hat couldn’t hide longish, curly brown hair.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” my mother said. “I just wanted to know if you have any idea about anything that’s going on. Oh, by the way, I’m Ellen and these are my two kids, Emma and Ethan.”
“Um…I’m Sam, but I’m afraid I don’t really know much…well, I know a bit. Some of the boats here have people living on them and two of them have old shortwave radios.”
“And those are working?” my mother asked.
“That’s about all that is working. Anything new is down, including all cellphones.”
“So what are they getting from their shortwave radios?” my mother asked.
“This is happening as far as the radios can connect. Everything within four or five hundred miles has been shut down.”