Blackout: Still Surviving

by Boyd Craven III

“Miss Jessica?” Dave asked, “You want to ride back with Uncle Lester or us?”

  “Whoever,” she said. “Westley, Grandma, Grandpa, thanks for the drink. Let’s do it again!”

  “Anytime you’re thirsty,” Grandma said and then leaned over and hugged her.

  “Yeah, she doesn’t hurt the eyes none. She can come keep an old man company whenever she wants,” Grandpa said, and the smack to the back of the head that was usually reserved for me… got him.

  He cursed as the rest of us chuckled, but kept out of Grandma’s reach.

  17

  For the next week, I worked in the garden and the barn. I ran off all the shine I could before dismantling everything again. I rinsed out the still pieces and hid the columns back in the spot in the wall, and the kegs I used as my boilers in the root cellar behind a shelf we kept some of our dried goods on. When I wasn’t working on that, I spent time cleaning out buckets and putting up the bags of food that I had been gathering in my stall in the barn. My pile shrank a bit, but all of the two-gallon frosting buckets that had been nested in each other started piling up high. I started moving those into the root cellar as well to make room to keep going.

  We fired up the tractor twice in that time frame, but the sound carried for a ways, and we had a couple of people on bikes pull to the top of the driveway and look down according to my grandma, who was responding to Raider barking his fool head off. Wherever he’d been in his previous life, he knew bikes, and he didn’t like them. In the evenings, we’d sit on the chairs and talk softly until the sun went down. I wasn’t keen to head into town, but I was getting desperate for information, and I wanted to check in on Jessica. It was more the latter than the former, if I was honest.

  My grandpa was feeling much better, and the time came and passed when he was supposed to get his stitches out in a couple spots. He instructed me to get him his needle nose pliers and some high proof shine. I did and grinned as he disinfected them with the shine, took a quick sip then cut the stitches out, pulling them with the pliers. I’d seen Grandma do something similar a ton of times. He only cursed once while Raider sat next to him. Every time Grandpa would grunt from a stitch that was being a pain, he’d make a sound and Raider would try to push his head under Grandpa’s arm. A dog hug.

  Thankfully, the smaller incisions had been glued together with DermaBond, so it was over with quick. Then he used a cotton swab with some shine and rubbed the area where the stitches were, grimacing for a moment before grinning at me. Proving how tough he still was, if I had to guess. We’d been using the cream the doctors gave to us, an antibiotic ointment, and other than the initial bruising and redness, it looked like it was mending well.

  I must have made up a million excuses to finally go to town, but in the end, it was still the same basic thing. I wanted to see Jessica. That girl had got into my head somehow, and she hadn't run screaming when she found out that I was the one, along with my family, making all the hooch in the area. For some reason that really made me wonder. She'd been a lawman of sorts in the military, and I was surprised she hadn't thrown in with the Sheriff's office yet. That would've been the natural progression of things if it were me, especially with everything we'd got going on all of a sudden.

  Besides, I wanted to meet her two dogs and see if she was willing to come out to the house again for some more lemonade. Yeah, actually that wasn’t honest, but that was what I told myself.

  “I see you're getting antsy,” Grandma said as I was walking through the house, checking on things.

  “Yeah, just a little bit,” I told her. “I think I'm gonna run into town to go check on Miss Jessica and see if there's any more news. Other than the people on the road with their bikes, I haven't really seen or heard anyone else.”

  “Nope,” Grandpa said with a growl, “I heard no one either. It's strange, you get used to hearing airplanes and cars and just racket in general. Now all I got to listen to is the chicken whisperings out in the back when Foghorn ain't telling the world he's king rooster!”

  “I want to leave Raider here with you two,” I told him, and Raider looked up at hearing his name spoken aloud and cocked his head to the side as he considered my words. “He'll let you know if anyone's around.”

  “I thought you wanted to take him with you as an excuse to see—"

  “Don't you go bugging him about great grandbabies,” Grandpa said with a chuckle. “He's got enough problems living at home with us. You want some money for a hotel room?”

  “Grandpa!” I said with a smile on my face, “You know it ain’t like that. Besides, I don't figure they got any running water.”

  “You're the only one around here that's got any running water,” Grandpa said.

  I thought about that. In the barn, my pond pump was working. That got me thinking, what was the condition of my battery bank? Was my charge controller still working correctly? Was the blocking diode on the solar panels still working? Those were things I didn't know, but I should've found out already. I’d do that on my way out.

  “I’ll check in before too long,” I told them both, leaning down to give Grandma a kiss on the cheek and a light hug. “Hoping to ask her over for supper some night.”

  Grandma smiled, and I turned to see Grandpa grinning as well. Raider barked and spun in a circle, his tail beating anything within its reach into submission.

  “I want you to stay here with Grandpa and Grandma,” I told him, patting down my pockets.

  Wallet, keys, gun in the inner holster and… Once you started carrying a cell phone, it becomes a habit. That was what I was missing, but then again I had tried it out once a day for the last week when I’d do a walk, and it hadn’t gotten any signal, and every call had ended up with one of those fast busy signals. I’d left it in the truck, so I’d turn it on while I was driving and see if I could get anything to go through.

  “You think that’s a good idea? He pulled your butt out of the fire the last time you went there,” Grandpa asked me, the smile gone now.

  “Lance would be a fool to try something. Besides, I have my gun handy. He’s the one worse for wear.”

  “True enough, I just wish… Hell, I’m going with you.”

  “The hell you are!” Grandma said, raising her voice.

  “I’ve been cooped up here since my surgery. I ain’t been to town in pert near three weeks!”

  “Neither have I!” Grandma shouted back, getting to her feet.

  Raider took the smart route; he went and sat under the dining table, out of harm’s reach. I should have followed the dog's example, but I couldn’t help the smirk that lit my face at their antics.

  “How about you go next time then?” Grandpa shot back. “Even the kid thinks it’s a good idea!”

  “I’m not in this one. If you want to come, come on. Heck, we can all take your car, and the four of us can go.”

  “I haven’t washed my hair properly in a couple days. You can’t just drop an offer like that on me.”

  “HAH!” Grandpa said, nearly jumping up with both feet. “Let’s go, Wes.”

  “Raider, stay,” I told the dog.

  He let out a low whine, but I knew he would. Otherwise, he’d be rushing the door and trying to get out. I opened the door, and Grandpa started to follow, then reached up and got the shotgun off the nails and turned to wave at Grandma. She was grinning slightly.

  “You boys stay out of trouble,” she called sweetly.

  “Ain’t gonna do nothing stupid,” Grandpa muttered before closing the door.

  He was moving really good on his own and scoffed at me when I opened the passenger side door for him.

  “I ain’t no woman,” he griped as I slammed the door.

  He was already rolling his window down when I slid in. He’d put the shotgun between us, and I rolled my window down to let out some of the explosive heat that had been building up inside before starting the engine.

  “I thought Grandma was mad about you going?” I asked him. “In the end, she was almost l
aughing about it.”

  “She wasn’t mad about me going, she was just worried and letting me know that.”

  “God, I don’t understand women,” I muttered, firing the truck up and putting it in reverse.

  “When you do, you’ll damn be near my age or older.”

  I could hear the sound of engines right away, even over the dull roar of my own motor. These were loud, huge sounds. I could pick them out blocks away as I rolled into town. I should have paid attention to the sheriff’s warning. As I got closer to the center of town, I could make out a long convoy of military vehicles parked along one side of the road, and a large tent had been erected in the parking lot of the grocery store. Its stakes had been driven into the asphalt the way carnival tents used to be when they still traveled through the area.

  “Damn. I wonder where the sheriff and Dave are?” I asked, not expecting a response.

  Grandpa grabbed the shotgun and lowered it to the floorboards, turning it sideways and pushing it down behind his feet. It wasn’t completely under, but it was out of sight. I saw why he did it a moment later; a man in military fatigues was walking out into the road, one hand out, a carbine slung over his shoulder.

  “We’re about to find out,” Grandpa said as I had to step on the brakes harder when I realized it was us he had ordered to stop.

  I hadn’t been going fast, but it was still a little bit of a jolt that would have sent Raider scrambling if I’d brought him with us. I didn’t squeal the tires, but it was probably a close thing. I waited, and he walked around to my side.

  “Morning guys, see some ID?” the man asked.

  “Sure thing,” I said and reached for my wallet, my heart beating a hundred miles an hour.

  I looked over, and Grandpa was shaking his head, a movement so small that if you didn’t know his tics, you’d think that it was part of his usual shimmy and shakes.

  “You know what, it’s been a week and a half since I been in town and I forgot my wallet,” I told him. “I’m Wesley Flagg, that’s my Grandpa Bud over there.”

  “Bud, do you have any ID?” the soldier asked.

  “I ain’t drove myself nowhere in fifteen years. Damn grandkid took my license after I wrapped my truck around a tree.”

  “You are a terror on the roads,” I told him, picking up on his cue. “You should have given up driving a long while back.”

  “Wasn’t right none,” Grandpa shot back.

  “And you think you’re bad now? After your chemo, you’re so sick that you can barely sit up straight—”

  “Fellas,” the solder interrupted, “could you step out of the truck please?”

  “Why?” I asked him.

  “Easier to talk,” he said, and on the edges of the convoy, I saw curious faces starting to come out of the woodwork, all of them wearing camo.

  I looked straight ahead and saw three men marching down the road, right in the middle turn lane. Grandpa followed my gaze and cursed softly, but that was picked up by the soldier who turned and swore as well.

  “What’s going on here? I just came to town for information. Our power has been out for a while now, and none of the phones or cell phones work.”

  “Listen, Bud, that’s my boss over there. I have to run. Make sure you have your ID with you next time. We’re under Martial Law.”

  “Is the sheriff’s department still operational?” Grandpa asked.

  “They’ve been integrated with the state police. I’m not sure if they are in town right now.”

  “Can we travel past here, are we free to go?” I asked, noting the group of three men were getting closer.

  “Yea—”

  “Sargent,” the man in the middle shouted, and the guy next to me almost flinched at the shrill voice.

  I took in his appearance and noticed he wasn’t very imposing. He had a look about him that reminded me of a ferret or a weasel. We’d catch them sometimes killing chickens, and there was always something sneaky and sly about the critters. It wasn’t that he looked like one of those vermin, but he had something about him that reminded me of them.

  “Sir,” he called back.

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “No problem, sir, they are moving along now,” he said, reaching into a deep pocket on his left side and came out with a laminated half sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Get to where you’re going. Stay out of town as much as possible. I’ve got family nearby, I’m only doing this because I have to,” he said then turned, smacking my hood, and made a get going gesture as he walked toward the approaching group.

  I handed the sheet over to Grandpa and put the truck in gear and started rolling slowly. As we passed the parked convoy on the right, I could see soldiers working on the eastside of the road, setting up smaller tents and the engine sounds I’d been hearing were towed generators. Cables went everywhere, but I couldn’t see what they were energizing. As I passed the group of men walking our way, I saw the Sargent snap a salute and start speaking. I couldn’t make out his words as we passed, but the commander, or whoever he was, never quit staring at us as I pulled past, making sure not to crowd them.

  “If we’re going to Jessica’s, we better hurry,” Grandpa said.

  “That’s where I figured I’d go next,” I told him.

  “Good, because that boy there might have just saved our lives,” Grandpa said and then held up the laminated sheet.

  I grabbed it and drove with one eye and one hand. Grandpa pointed “…firearms are to have been turned in by the end of the month. Any found in violation of these orders are to be apprehended and incarcerated…”

  I handed the sheet back to him. “What does it mean?” I asked him. “I can’t read and drive at the same time.”

  “A couple days back was the end of the month. This sheet talks about the executive order laid out by the president, giving the governors of the state’s authority to ensure the safety of the population. Your popgun and my shotgun would have gotten us in cuffs, or worse.”

  “I… that’s insane,” I said.

  “You hear him when he told you that he’s got family nearby and to stay out of town?” he asked.

  “Yes?” I asked him, not sure what to make of it other than that the local friendly law enforcement had probably been sent elsewhere.

  “Says here that local residents are being rounded up and sent to the larger population centers. Not all of them, but the ones deemed un-necessary were.”

  “How… What the…?”

  “I know, boy. This is bad news, far worse than I thought,” Grandpa said.

  Despite the heat, I felt a chill and shivered, my arms breaking out into goose flesh. I put my blinker on and turned into the long drive that would take us up the hill to Jessica’s family house. Grandpa made an appreciative sound as he saw the house coming up. Compared to our place, this was almost mansion-like. The siding and roof were new, and despite there being no power and everything was disrupted, the lawn was still mowed neatly. The porch had been sanded and repainted at some point recently too.

  I shut the engine off, and a big booming bark startled me. A dog, the size of a zombie dinosaur, emerged from the side of the porch, where he’d been sleeping under the bushes. Grandpa made a startled noise, and I turned to tell him that it was one of her dogs when he started rolling up his window. The shepherd I’d seen before stood up on his hind legs, his big paws on the edge of Grandpa’s door. He growled, and through the window, I could see that this guy was ready for anything. I took my eyes off him to look out my side and saw that the half-bear dog had stopped a few feet away, daring me to open my door.

  He let out another series of noise-shattering barks before the front door opened and Jessica and her father came out. She had a gun on her hip and another across her back, a belt knife on her left side. She’d traded her usual sundress for cargo pants and a loose-fitting cotton t-shirt. Her hair was tucked up under a boonie hat, and when Grandpa let out an appreciative low whistle, I didn’t begrudge him. This wa
s one tomboy I didn’t mind wanting to get to know more.

  She barked a command in a language I didn’t understand, and the shepherd dropped, and the big guy turned to look at her. She made a hand signal and barked another command, and both dogs turned and walked to her before sitting on their haunches and waiting. She whispered something, and the shepherd’s tail wagged, and he turned his head and looked back at us in the truck.

  “I thought she was purty in the dress before—”

  “Don’t, Grandpa,” I said.

  “But you’re going to get me in trouble with my damn mouth if—”

  “What are you fine gentlemen up to on a hot day like this?” she asked, coming to stand near my door and open window.

  “What is that guy?” I asked, pointing to the half bear, half dog that looked like a Rottweiler.

  “That’s Diesel, the other guy is Yager. They're my buddies. Yager is a pup I got from the same breeder who I got my K9 from in the service.”

  “I mean, what is Diesel? I’ve never seen a dog so big…”

  “Oh, he’s a mix. His momma was a Napoleon Mastiff, and his daddy was a Shepherd Doberman mixture. Lady was a licensed breeder and her bitch tied up to the local riff-raff, so I picked him up for the cost of shots. Not quite as smart as Yager, but he’s a bruiser.”

  “Looks like he could eat a cow,” Grandpa piped up. “They safe?”

  Jessica gave another command in a guttural language that I could almost identify. German? Something eastern European? Both dogs came over to her, on my side of the truck, tails wagging. Yager stood up and put his paws on my windowsill. I flinched back, suddenly realizing how Raider might look to some people, but Yager was full grown and a beautiful specimen. Plus, his head was eye level with mine. He let out a happy bark and then leaned in to lick the side of my face.

  Grandpa laughed while I pushed Yager back and started wiping the slime off my face. I gave Grandpa the stink eye when the truck rocked on my side, and I turned to get a tongue the size of my open palm licking me across the front of my head as Diesel took his turn. I sputtered, and now both of them were laughing. Loudly.