“Hunter,” Nate called out to his nephew, his voice low and tinged with just a hint of menace.
Upstairs, the sound of rustling stopped. A second later Hunter appeared at the top railing, the boy’s eyes flashing a distinct look of fear.
“You get one bag,” Nate said, holding a single digit in the air. “We also need room for food and supplies. When I return, I want all of you ready.”
Hunter stared back, some of the blood draining from his normally ruddy face. “Okay.”
“Return?” Amy asked, flashing a less than happy look. “Where are you going?”
Nate nodded. “To the plant, to see Evan. Find out what the hell’s going on.”
Amy folded her arms. “You sure that’s such a good idea?”
Nate checked his cell phone and saw there were no new messages or missed calls. “At this stage, we don’t have any other choice.” He reached into his pocket and handed her the pistol.
She looked down at it, unsure.
“Consider it an insurance policy,” he whispered, leaning in to give her a kiss. “Until I get back. Now, see if you can’t get these guys moving. I wanna be back home before anyone in town catches wind the crud’s hit the fan.”
Amy flashed him that disapproving look again and it wasn’t on account of bad language.
Chapter 9
A blast of freezing wind slapped Nate’s cheeks the moment he stepped outside. His first act before leaving for the plant was to gather any unused fuel from his brother’s garage. Fighting his way to the garage door, the snow piled up past his knees, only reinforced how challenging it was to get anywhere on foot in powder this deep. Nate gripped the handle, lifted the door and couldn’t help but laugh. If there was one thing his brother loved, it was filling his garage with equipment he never used. Before him was a pristine John Deere E100 seated mower, not a hint of grass caked on the wheels or side chute. By any measure, Evan’s front yard was fairly small and his backyard was half the size. Next to the mower was a Cub Cadet top-of-the-line snowblower. Beside that on a nearby shelf was a brand-new chainsaw, and below that a gas-powered weedwhacker that might have seen action no more than once. Seeing all of this thoroughly neglected gear, Nate marveled at his brother’s wastefulness. But he was also thankful. Each of them was gas-powered and their sacrifice would be put to a greater good.
He grabbed the syphon and gas can from the truck bed and got to work. In all, he managed to scavenge three and a half gallons. The Dodge, it seemed, would live to fight another day.
With that out of the way, Nate hopped in the truck and headed for the plant. It was exactly five miles away, far enough to provide something of a buffer should anything ever go wrong.
The journey was slow going and Nate was relieved to still see that hardly anyone else was on the road.
As Nate drew closer, he noticed a change in the road. Tire tracks. Several of them, all heading off Highway 72. Which meant a convoy of some kind had passed this way heading for the plant.
On either side of him were open farmers’ fields, covered in a deep, white blanket of snow. The wind had died down a touch, which enabled Nate to spot the massive twin cooling towers of the Byron nuclear power plant in the distance. Thick clouds of white steam vapor that normally escaped through the openings were now gone. While that suggested the plant didn’t have power, it said nothing about the state of the core itself. As he approached the outer gate, two guards emerged from a small structure, their weapons unslung and at the ready.
Nate recognized them at once. The short, portly guy on the left was Sam Hastings. Somewhere in his late fifties, Sam had been working at the plant since it opened in ’85. The other and far thinner of the two was a chain-smoking, foul-mouthed, but lovable guy named Joe Santili. Joe was a joker who was always quick to share a smile and a tale of his many exploits, several of which had occurred at various dive bars in Rockford. If cigarettes didn’t catch up with him one day, Nate was sure beer and womanizing would.
Nate stopped the truck and started to get out.
“Stay in the truck, sir,” Joe said, gripping his weapon and leveling the barrel.
Nate did as they instructed and stuck an empty hand out the open window. “Take it easy, boys, it’s just me.”
Joe swung around, stepping onto the mound of snow beside the road. “Geez, Nate. You nearly got your head blown off.”
Nate stuck his head out now, confident they wouldn’t put a hole between his eyes. “I got a disturbing text from Evan this morning, but I haven’t been able to reach him since then. I’m trying to find out what the hell’s going on.”
“I’m sorry to say, but no one’s allowed in, even you, Nate,” Joe explained. “They got all hands on deck. Sam and I shoulda been done long ago, but they ain’t sending no one home. If anything, we got folks from the company showing up I ain’t never seen before.”
“What kinda folks, security personnel?”
Joe shook his head. “Big trucks hauling a bunch of generators and what not. But they ain’t the big ones like we use. These were small. Like the kind you find at the hardware store.”
That wasn’t good. Nate knew the larger generators Joe had mentioned were not only industrial-sized, but incredibly hard to come by. If one broke, it would take months, maybe even a year to source a replacement. Looking past the gate, Nate saw teams of people in heavy parkas moving bundles of electrical wire. Others were running back and forth. The scene was frantic and like nothing he’d ever witnessed in all of his time at the plant.
“They’re trying to patch the smaller gens into the system?” Nate asked.
“Yeah,” Joe replied, his breath coming out in a thick plume of white condensation. “That’s the plan.”
“Any word on whether they think they’ll be successful?”
Joe grinned. “I sure hope so, I got a Tinder date tonight. Heck of an app. Ever heard of it?”
Nate laughed. “Once or twice.”
“She’s an older lady, but you know what they say, right?”
“Maybe, but I’d prefer to hear what the engineers have to say.”
Joe winked. “Right, well, you know those types. Ain’t nothing they can’t do when they put their heads together. A handful of new faces arrived with the generators. Got something of a war room set up. People are worried and all, sure, but if I had to bet, I’d say they’ll fix this.” Joe must have caught the doubt in Nate’s eyes because he then said: “If you’re thinking of evacuating the family, I’d wait.” He motioned to the storm. “You’d be crazy to go anywhere. Especially in this.”
“Listen, can you give Evan a message for me?” Nate asked.
Joe nodded. “Sure thing, boss.” Nate wasn’t his boss, not anymore, but it seemed old habits were tough to break.
“Tell him to call me, either on my cell or on the landline, and not to give up until he gets through. Will you do that, Joe?”
“Sure thing, Nate.” All three men shook hands.
Nate got back in the pickup and leaned out the window one last time before turning around. “Stay safe.”
Chapter 10
Joe’s words were still ringing in Nate’s ears as he made his way back to the others.
You’d be crazy to go anywhere. Especially in this.
Although it was clear Joe’s lifestyle left something to be desired, it was hard to argue against the man’s logic. A part of Nate, the emotional, guns-blazing part, had wanted to scoop his wife and extended family up and whisk them away. To where though? The small farm Amy’s parents ran in Nebraska was one possibility. It was no secret his wife hated the city. That hatred had helped to fuel their relocation to Byron once the nuptials were over and done with. A farmer Nate was not, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn. And depending on how things shook out over the next few weeks and months, he might not have a choice. Unfortunately, planning more than a few days out was pure folly, especially given the hand they’d just been dealt. The first order of business would be to get everything back h
ome and stored away. Then, with the boys’ help, Nate would work to secure the property. There was no telling who might take advantage of the suspension of law and order to run amok, even if that meant fighting the weather to do so.
Nate pulled into the driveway to find Amy and Emmitt filling the bed of their own pickup. Eco-friendly smart cars were fine, but glorified golf carts didn’t cut it, not out here. If you didn’t have a single pickup, it meant you probably had two of them.
Nate stopped the truck, swung out and folded back the bed cover. With her hat pulled down over her ears and her cheeks flushed from the cold, Amy waved and began heading over. Foot traffic from the house had created something of a path through the snow, easing her journey back to the truck.
“Any luck?” she asked upon arriving.
Nate shook his head. “Not really. Although the trip wasn’t a complete waste.” He told her what he had learned and the message he’d left for Evan.
“A safe nuclear reactor will be one less thing to worry about,” she opined, letting out what looked to him to be a large sigh of relief.
“Well, we aren’t out of the woods yet,” Nate said, tempering her elation. “But I have full confidence in Evan and his people. If anyone can prevent a mushroom cloud from forming over Byron, it’s them.”
Emmitt was back, this time with a box of spaghetti noodles, the bulk kind from Costco.
“He’s a hard worker,” Amy said with a grin. She was brimming with pride. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s cute as a button either.”
Nate laughed. “What about Prince Charming?”
Amy shook her head and lowered her voice. “He was trying to pack his Xbox and I had to set him straight. Can’t say I managed to stop him in his tracks the way you did this morning, but I tried.”
Shaking his head, Nate said: “Good to see he’s got his priorities straight.”
“As much as Hunter needs some tough love, it might do well to go a little easy on him. The kids don’t really understand what’s going on.”
“They aren’t the only ones,” Nate shot back.
“Well, there you go. For all we know, this’ll all get sorted shortly and we can return to our comfy lives of baseboard heating and binging on Netflix.”
Nate kissed her. Amy’s lips and even her nose were like icicles, but it was great all the same. After all these years of being together, the fire between them still hadn’t dimmed a bit.
They both went in to help finish up. Lauren was coming down the stairs as they entered.
“Does Evan own a firearm?” Nate asked. He thought he knew the answer, but hazarded the question nevertheless.
“Guns? He hates them,” Lauren shot back. “You of all people should know that.”
She might not have meant it as an attack, but Nate couldn’t help feeling the sting. Her not-so-veiled jab was about his missing younger sister, Marie. It was a terrible wound neither brother had ever fully dealt with.
Amy put a hand on Nate’s arm to calm him. Her concern, however, was unnecessary.
“Look, Lauren, I don’t want to leave anything behind that criminals could steal and someday use against us,” he explained, his voice measured and smooth. Lauren had an unconscious habit of pushing people’s buttons. He’d learned that a long time ago. He had also come to understand, once he had gotten to know her better, that her comments were not born out of malice. She simply had no filter. If a thought popped into her head, she was more likely to blurt it out than she was to hold back and keep it to herself.
By eleven am, they were back home and busy unpacking. A shelving unit Nate had built in an unfinished section of the basement would serve as storage for the non-perishable goods. One of the few benefits of losing power in the winter—at least this far north—was that the outside could double as a refrigerator. It was for precisely this reason that Nate had gone back to Evan’s garage before leaving and fished out two large coolers. Setting food outside on its own would only invite wildlife still active during the winter months. A cooler could help, but was still not a great idea. As anyone in America with a garbage can could attest, raccoons were experts at popping off lids to get at any food inside. And contrary to popular belief, raccoons didn’t hibernate throughout the entire winter. Rather, they tended to store up body fat in the warmer months and sleep for several weeks once winter arrived. A cooler in the garage would solve that problem just fine.
Lauren and Amy lugged two recyclable grocery bags filled with food into the kitchen. A moment later, Amy shouted back, “Water’s not working.”
No surprise there. The act of treating water to make it drinkable and then pushing it up any kind of elevation required power. Much like the nearby nuclear plant, the water treatment facility also used diesel generators, which had probably kicked into action the moment the power went out. But these were only temporary measures, a stopgap designed to do the job on a short-term basis until the utility company got things back up and running. It was hard not to be shocked by how much of our modern life relied on electricity. Rattle off a list of ten things you did in a day and the chances were great at least nine of those depended on power. But shock or surprise didn’t really capture the extent to which their lives were about to change, regardless of how long this lasted. It was downright scary.
That wasn’t to say the water would remain off indefinitely. It was possible the good folks at the treatment facility were waiting for more fuel for the diesel generators they used. Another possibility was that the town was keeping them off, to conserve fuel until they had a better idea how long this would last. Maybe then they would turn the generators back on for set periods of time. That way they could continue delivering water for as many days as possible. If you were stuck on a deserted island, you didn’t empty your canteen until you found a fresh source of drinkable water. As far as Nate was concerned, the logic was the same here.
But, like the refrigeration issue—a potentially deadly problem in summer—the cold weather could be used to full advantage. Buckets of snow could be melted in pots over the stove and even brought to a boil for at least a minute to ensure it was safe to drink. Of course, the duration of the boil depended on your elevation, a fact not many folks were aware of. The higher you were—cities like Denver, for instance—the longer the water needed to be boiled, which was one of the reasons residents there were advised to boil unsafe water for at least three minutes.
Nate was still in the garage setting up a spot for the coolers when Emmitt appeared at the doorway with food from the kitchen freezer. He handed it over and stayed to watch as Nate stacked it neatly, taking care to keep similar food items together.
“Uh, Uncle Nate,” Emmitt said, his voice quiet and hesitant.
“Yeah?” Nate replied, still sorting.
“Are we gonna die?”
Nate stopped and spun, shocked not only by the words, but by the fear in Emmitt’s voice. “Well, if everyone does their part, I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” He paused for a moment before returning to his work. “Why do you ask? Was it something your mom said?”
“Nah, not her. Hunter said the power’s never coming back on and that we’re probably all gonna die.”
Nate felt his teeth clench together. “Where is your brother?”
“In the living room, sitting on the couch.”
“On the… This is no time to be relaxing. Go get him, would you?”
Emmitt ran off and Nate heard him yelling after his brother. Hunter appeared at the garage door a minute later, rubbing his arms against the cold.
“It’s freezing out here,” Hunter complained.
“Close the door behind you for a minute,” Nate told him. “Don’t let all the warmth out.” He looked at Emmitt, who was standing behind his brother. “Will you give us a minute?”
The door closed, leaving the two of them together.
“Did you tell your brother that we’re going to die?”
A guilty flush filled Hunter’s cheeks. “Uh, I’m not sure. Maybe. I mean, when
do you think the power’s coming back on? I have a pretty big tournament scheduled for noon on Saturday and…”
“You’re going to miss that tournament. I’m not sure exactly how to say this, but the power’s out in this part of Illinois and parts of Nebraska. Right now that’s all we know.”
Hunter ran a hand through his hair and cocked his head. “Ugh, yeah, that sucks. Listen, do you have a generator or something? The battery on my iPad is running on fumes.”
Nate’s eyes became glassy.
“Your truck has a USB connection, doesn’t it? Can I plug it in there?”
“I really don’t get it. I see your brother helping load bags in the truck and empty the freezer and you seem more worried about videogame t-shirts, tournaments and charging your iPad.”
Hunter’s eyes fell.
Nate heard a ghostly echo of his wife’s voice telling him to go easy. He let out a long sigh, before he spoke: “Here’s what I would like you to do. Go ask your aunt Amy if there’s anything she needs help with. I know the canned stuff needs to be brought into the basement and put on shelves. And when you’re done with that, there’s a long list of other things I need help with.” He curled the fingers of his left hand around Hunter’s thin arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What I’m trying to say is, the time for games is done. I need you to put your big-boy pants on. It’s time to step up.”
His nephew glanced up at him and nodded slowly. The kid opened the door and went back inside. Hunter wasn’t a bad kid, not by any stretch. He’d just been allowed to get away with bloody murder for far too long. The Jesuit Ignatius Loyola used to say, “Give me the child for the first seven years and I will give you the man.” Hunter was already ten, but Nate hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage the good that still remained.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said by the open garage door.
Startled, Nate turned on his heels, the palm of his hand pressing against the cold grip of his pistol.
A wall of snow more than two feet high marked the demarcation line between the garage’s interior and the outside world. The figure was dressed in a heavy winter jacket and fur-lined boots. It was Liz Corder, his next-door neighbor. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”
America Offline | Books 1 & 2 | The Day After Darkness Page 4