SURVIVOR: The Coming Power Grid Collapse

by Francis Bate

  They heard the vehicles roaring without missing any essence. Patricia closed her eyes, silently praying in her mind as she skipped a breath so no one could hear. The sound came nearer while they presumed that they have entered the lot. She bit her lip hugging herself away from the shivers the situation has brought them. Stan slowly peeked his head to the side view mirror, trying to take a glance of their enemy. They were on the other side of the lot, but after checking the area again, they left. He sat up straight and took some air into his lungs, allowing it there for quite a while. He puffed the air and looked at his friends.

  “They’re gone, you okay?” he asked, watching them as they straighten their bodies. Both of them nodded, leaving him no further questions.

  “We’ll stay here for a moment until we’re sure that we are really safe. They’ll give up looking for us and they’ll surely go back to their post,” he explained.

  Patricia has gone silent throughout the time. They allowed it to pass them by. Stan slowly opened the driver’s door and stepped out to check the trunk. Just when it was safe to leave, he slid into his seat and started the engine. Pulling off the lot, he realized that the place was far from the encounter. They passed along a deserted avenue lined along by houses and they were back to the main route. When they left Newberry, they saw a sign of a day-care ahead of the road. Stan slowed down when they were nearing an abandoned day-care center. There were trees surrounding it but darkness illuminated the building. The glasses on the window sills were broken into pieces. Tall grasses grew on the lawn as if a lawnmower has not kissed the ground for years.

  “Drive a little slower,” Jarvis ordered and stared out of the window. He saw a figure walking towards the back of the center. “Park the truck here,” he said.

  Stan obliged facing him with curiosity etched on his face. He did not answer. Jarvis opened the passenger’s door and clasped at the gun from his waist. He followed him with the car and parked in a secluded parking lot. Stan and Patricia trailed behind Jarvis as he ran towards the back of the center.

  “Stop!” Jarvis shouted, directing his gun to the figure’s direction. The man halted at his place, not even turning back. “Stop what you are doing and put your hands on your head.”

  Out of fear, the man slowly faced them and threw something at them. Jarvis pulled the trigger hitting the man on his left foot. He stumbled down crying in pain cursing loudly in the open air.

  “Why did you shot him, Jarvis?” Patricia yelled glaring at him. She ran to help the man trying not to look at the open wound.

  “He was trying to rob the center, Patricia! You saw it your own eyes, right?” Jarvis defended. They went closer to the wounded stranger. “Why were you here? You were trying to steal, am I correct?” He knelt to the floor looking at him.

  “I was not! Your accusations are wrong!” He answered, glaring at him. Jarvis looked like he was not buying it.

  “Of course, you’d deny! No evildoer has admitted their crimes,” he chuckled.

  “You’re wrong! I said I wasn’t stealing. I stopped to tie my shoelace when the photo I placed on the window sill blew inside the room. It went on the table but I can’t reach it,” he replied, biting his tongue to prevent himself from crying. Jarvis placed the gun back to his holster.

  “Go get the medical kit, Jarvis,” Stan ordered and Jarvis disappeared in the dark. Stan outstretched his arm in the window and reached for the old photograph. He let the moon ablaze it for him as he studied the photo on his hand.

  It was a family portrait showing a couple carrying two kids on their lap. They were showing their sweetest smile under the sepia palette. He glanced at the young boy and back to the photo, distinguishing the similarity of the angle.

  “That’s my family, I’m the other child. I lost them on fire during the first week of this event, that’s the only one I have saved,” his eyes were filled with pain. It wasn’t clear whether the pain from his loss or the gunshot wound on his foot.

  “How old are you?” Stan asked as Jarvis appeared on the site. He was holding a medical kit. He glanced at them placing the kit on the ground close to Stan’s side.

  “Seventeen,” he replied. His eyelids began to fell. Patricia jerked his shoulders telling him to stay awake. But sleep caught him as he drifted to the wind.

  “OMG, Jarvis! You shot a seventeen-year-old,” Patricia muttered in disbelief, snapping at him. Stan placed his index and middle fingers over his jugular vein checking his pulse rate. They laid the boy on the ground turning him carefully on a supine position. His head angled up straight. Stan elevated his foot above his head and applied pressure. He wrapped the wound with a bandage and observed the bleeding. It has not stopped. He took his finger and applied pressure on the femoral artery. The bleeding stopped. He dressed the site and fixed back his kit.

  “Let’s leave him here,” Jarvis suggested receiving another glare from Patricia.

  “Are you out of your mind, Jarvis? After you shot him, you will leave him here empty handed? He hasn’t recovered yet for Chris’ sake!” She exclaimed. Stan was listening to their argument as he fixed the kit and checked the wound at times.

  “It will take us longer time if we bring him back to Newberry. I don’t want to encounter another road fight,” he deadpanned, shrugging off his shoulders. He stood, leaning on the wall while crossing his feet and arms. She took her silence for a while thinking of a substantial rebuttal.

  “We can drop him off somewhere near the post office,” she suggested. “At least don’t leave him here where no one can see him.”

  Glancing on their side, Stan saw a shadow of a person heading to their place. “Someone’s coming, we need to leave,” Stan ordered. He picked the kit from the ground and ran back to the car. They left the boy lying on the ground. After starting the engine, he drove down the road.

  “Told ya, someone will come looking for him,” Jarvis said glancing outside the road. Receiving no reaction from her, he smiled onto himself tapping his shoulder.

  “What you did isn’t something to be proud of,” she shrugged and crossed her arms. Jarvis did not react as he sat quietly on his seat.

  Stan drove peacefully that night. Making his way to the quiet, dull highway, he let out a small yawn. The dark made the sphere pleasant and alarming all at once. At a low pace, he turned to a sandy rough route. The truck wiggled slightly as the wheel danced through the sand. Slipping at every stance, he maneuvered the steering wheel simultaneous with every move. He grabbed his radio and clasped it in his hand.

  Pressing the button of his small radio, he heard the rhythm as it swayed with the tide. “Stan to Chris, come in, Chris. Over,” he said. He waited for a reply but there was nothing.

  “Chris, come in, over,” he repeated. The rhythm changed signifying another call from the other line.

  “Stan, go ahead,” Chris delivered, as he listened to the hissing sound.

  “We are approaching State Road one-two-one,” Stan focused back on the road.

  “Copy that, Stan. Is the road safe for travel?”

  “We encountered danger back in Newberry, everything’s safe now,” he muttered, recalling the events earlier.

  “You’re close to Patricia’s home now.” Stan glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Patricia smiling as she watched the trees glide by. Upon hearing her name, she quirked and paid him a glance.

  He smiled peeking at the rear view mirror. “Yeah, she seemed delighted.”

  “Finally, after a long time away from home,” he responded. “You mentioned you met trouble back in Newberry?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if the armies were in function.” Stan carefully released the button, observing the road ahead of them. Glancing at his side view mirrors, he maintained the speed he set for the sandy road.

  “Have you seen them?” He heard the worry in his voice, but that was nothing imperceptible.

  “They fired on us and followed us until we have escaped,” Stan explained. The sound became hazy, emanating the loss of co
nnection. Stan lost contact with him.

  “Chris, come in, over,” he repeated but there was nothing from him

  Stan parked the car along the road and decided to rest for a while. From the dark wispy clouds, they heard drilling sound of rotors. There was nothing above but the deafening sound of a helicopter. It stayed above for a while until it vanished with the wind. He tried to contact Chris but it was still out of line. The static sound from the radio emerged revealing the voice of Chris from behind.

  “Stan, come in, over.”

  “Chris, go ahead,” he replied.

  “I can hear helicopters roaming your area, are you safe?” Before he could answer, an Army Blackhawk helicopter surfaced close to their area.

  “I can’t hear you, Chris. I’ll talk to you later again. Out,” he said. The helicopter passed by them. Following the aircraft with their head, Stan wondered what that was all about.

  After the aircraft went out of sight, they decided to keep going. His mind played out its mental state as it deliberately formulated probable reasons. It was as though unusual for them to see. What if it was true? He was worried for his family.

  “What are those?” Jarvis asked bringing Stan back to the world from his own universe. He looked ahead seeing tiny lights glimmering from afar.

  “There’s someone there,” Patricia responded leaning closely to the front seats. In his mind, Stan knew that it was a roadblock but there’s no way they could turn. They have reached the state road 121 and he was right.

  “We summon you to stop the car and move out with your arms over your head,” they heard a voice from a loud hailer. Their car halted a few meters away from the roadblock.

  “What’s going to happen to us now?” Patricia buried her face in her palms and squealed silently.

  “Speed up, Stan. We have to outrun them and if it takes or you to hit the blocks, you have to do it,” Jarvis suggested, jolting Stan from his senses.

  “Are you crazy? We could die,” she responded. “We’re going to die.”

  Stan gripped the steering wheel. Another warning from them roared from the bullhorn. But he was scaling things in the easiest way possible. Tapping lightly on the steering wheel, he pulled the handbrake up and moved the shifter to neutral. He released the brake pedal but did not kill the engine. He left it that way. Men crowded slowly stepping closer to their truck with their guns pointed towards them. Stan watched as they alertly examined the truck.

  “You have to move out of the car and put your hands above your head. I repeat you have to move out of the car and put your hands in the air.” Bright lights were directed to them dazzling their eyesight.

  He switched the light out when a crying Patricia moved out of the car raising her hands. “I’m coming out, don’t shoot.”

  She walked slowly counting her pace towards the center aisle receiving the rays of light. It was like she was cornered by the spotlight on a performer’s stage. The only difference was there was no stage. Stan and Jarvis opened their doors and slid out doing the same.

  “We came out in peace, please don’t shoot,” she repeated.

  “Why are you here?” The man with the megaphone asked, echoing in the open lot.

  “I’m from Gainesville. My friends decided to bring me home,” she cried out.

  They saw a figure coming out of the bright. A shadow of a tall man appeared in sight telling the men to put their guns down.

  When Patricia saw the man behind the shadow, she ran and leaped into his arms. He enveloped her in a hug wiping the tears on her face. It was a view of a perfect reunion after a long time of misery. They both loosened from their attachment and smiled brightly.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive, Pat!” He said, patting his head.

  “It’s because of them, Ryan.” Patricia strode back to where they were pulling the man behind him. “I want you to meet Stan Harris and Jarvis Bryant. They are the reason why I was able to come home to you.” She added, glancing back and forth to both parties. “This is my brother, Ryan Silver.”

  After the sudden reunion, they went back to the car and passed by the roadblock. With a smile on his face, Stan sighed in relief.

  Chapter Six: Greater Change

  “Dad and mom will be so much happy to see you,” Ryan beamed at his sister gripping his arm.

  They escorted them to a community of campsites. The place was crowded yet fully secured inspecting every person coming in and out of the lot. Although it was dark, various illuminants flicker at every window. Ryan led them to a house illuminated by a lampshade powered by a solar panel.

  “Why are you here? What happened to our house?” Patricia widened her eyes, stopping from her steps.

  “It’s utter trouble. I bet you don’t want to live in a place as such,” he muttered under his breath. Patricia has gone silent, following her brother into an unfamiliar door. Her two friends were trailing behind them, listening to their conversation. Ryan unlocked the door stepping into the house. They walked into a dark quiet hallway leading to the family room. Candles lighted the room giving more space for tranquillity. The fireplace was empty looking abandoned and forgotten.

  They sat on a couch watching as the candles shed in tears. It wasn’t certain whether it was tears of joy or sadness. She was shivering as if the room was cold. Her heart frantically beat fast as though it was racing on a track. She felt a tingling sensation which she couldn’t describe. Why were her parents in that place? That, she cannot figure out.

  Stan closed his eyes to let it rest for a couple of minutes. Letting the world slide down for a moment, he was so exhausted. He could hear every deafening sound surrounding the room. The floor was awakened by profound footsteps followed with thrilling exclamations. He opened his eyes and allowed the old rustic view of the room procure his sight. He glanced at the snoring Jarvis beside him waking him up as three persons emanated from the door.

  “Patricia?” An old sweet voice resounded making her sit up straight and turned her head to the sound. A woman came running in tears to meet her thin body. “My baby, I thought I won’t be able to cherish this moment again.” She continued embracing her tight as they both cry in the heart of the room.

  All eyes were watching them but bright smiles were planted on their lips. She hugged the woman back in return with tears covering her face. A man about the woman’s age joined their circle enveloping them with his arms. The woman extended her arm to Ryan signifying him to join the heart-warming scenery. The night was dark and the room was too. But although it was dark, it reunited a family that was once lost but now was found.

  It took them some time to loosen and then realizations came crashing out that they have other eyes in the room.

  “Dad and mom, these are Stan Harris and Jarvis Bryant. I met them along the way, just like me, they are also on their way back to their own family. But they have planned to bring me home first,” Patricia explained holding both her parents’ hands. She smiled, seizing that moment. “Stan taught me a lot of things, especially in my survival. Jarvis has also been useful to me.” Jarvis grinned as Stan chuckled. Patricia glanced over them smiling, “Guys, these are my parents, Osborne and Ginger.”

  Shaking their hands, her parents smiled and thanked them for taking responsibility for their daughter. It was sincere. They took their seats while listening to the stories of Patricia. She has collected thousands and millions of different stories that haven't shared for a million years. Some are true but most are made up. And it didn’t matter, what mattered was she was with her family again.

  When the room was filled with utter silence, everyone was swarmed with different thoughts and imaginations. The atmosphere became heavy to bear whispering secrets in the air. Osborne stood meeting the thin ray of light coming from the weeping candle on the other side.

  “Come, I will introduce you to my friend. He was the one who suggested us to come and stay here for the meantime,” he said inviting them to follow him out the door. Everyone stood except Patricia. Realizing
that she couldn’t be forced to come, his father sat beside her and tilted her head to face him. “What’s wrong, my darling daughter? You look forlorn, aren’t you happy to see us?”

  She looked at her in the eye and breathe in. “Dad, what happened back in our house? Why did you come here?” She asked her eyes were sad but she had managed to smile. Her father frowned as if recalling the mystery of the past.

  “Due to the incident, people have become criminals and brigands. They came barging in, robbing and threatening me and your mother. We can’t do anything because we don’t have arms with us. So in return, we didn’t have any supplies left to suffice our needs,” he explained with a coarse voice. His eyes filled with anger and at the same time fear for his family. “Justin, my friend told me that he has someone who could help us. And he brought us here,” he finished. Patricia groaned burying her face into her hands. All the while, she thought they were safe but it was then she knew that they are safe in their new home.

  “I’m sorry dad. I wasn’t with you when those happened,” she exclaimed keeping herself from crying. Her father hugged her, making her cling more onto his warm and safe hands.

  “I was so hopeless when we couldn’t find you but deep down, I know that you are surviving. I just couldn’t make myself think that you are not in good hands. Thank goodness, you are safe,” he stated. Their audience watched as they exchanged pleasantries and shared more emotions since their long-gone misery.

  Ginger was sobbing from behind as she watched her husband and daughter share that moment. It has been a while since they both spent some emotional time together. Patricia has been a clingy daughter but at the same time, she was the ice breaker in the family. It was unusual to see them in that state, however, it felt fulfilling for her as a mother.

  “Enough with this mushy-gushy talk,” he gasped at what he said. Everyone but him laughed and his jaw dropped. “See, that was because of the fluctuations of my emotion. No tough guy can cry and talk girly like that except your father,” he said chuckling receiving different reactions from everyone in the room. His face has become serious as he stood pointing on to the house in front of theirs. “We have to go visit, Justin. You must get to know him.”