Burn

by G E Hathaway

Except the roof. The roof had stayed in the air. She had held it up somehow, arms outstretched, the roof floating overhead.

  Liam Lopez had barely started his career in public safety two years ago when The Grid fell. No more patrol schedules. No more paperwork. No vehicles. No weapons. The police force was nonexistent. He now drove one of the last working vehicles in the city. It now ran completely on its own power device, but the battery drained quickly and required constant recharging.

  He checked the battery levels as he opened the door. Thirty percent. He reclined all the seats of the bulbous interior of the former autonomous vehicle and gently placed the girl inside. He moved the hair from her face again.

  “Can you hear me?” his voice sounded hollow inside the car. “Do you have someplace to go?”

  He was struck by the darkness of her eyes. She struggled to sit up, but her arms collapsed and she rolled onto her side instead. Her shoulders shook, and a sob erupted from her throat. She lay on the car floor and cried.

  Liam made a split decision. He climbed behind the wheel and shut the door.

  * * *

  Noah blinked hard, trying to shake away the blurriness as he stared intently up at the ceiling. He was operating off two hours of sleep but he didn’t care. He was nearing a breakthrough.

  He balanced on top of the ladder, its legs tilted slightly to achieve the optimal angle, one side leaning against a load-bearing beam. With slightly shaking hands, he lifted the microwave into the air. He shifted his balance, leaned forward, and placed the machine onto the tether he’d already attached to the metal ceiling. He did not look down. From thirty feet high, the five-thousand square foot warehouse felt massive. The first time he climbed to the top of the ladder, he got vertigo and nearly fell off. The second time required a small dose of liquid courage, a swig from an aged bottle of whiskey he’d found in one of the houses he’d scavenged. The third time he discovered he could move with relative ease.

  As long as he didn’t look down.

  With the microwave now dangling freely from the ceiling, Noah shifted his weight again to open its door and check inside. It was an ancient model, built sometime during the twenty-first century when appliances still had to physically plug into a grounded power source. Its cord dangled to the floor, plugged into his makeshift battery converter. It had taken him several weeks of digging through houses to find an extension cord that stretched that long. The battery he had found from a decaying 2040 Ford Focus.

  His eyes skimmed the tangled mess of wires and circuit boards, looking for anything he may have missed before making the careful climb back to the ground.It lacked the elegance of Grid technology, but it would have to do. He counted the rungs, breathing steadily to keep the dizziness at bay. When his feet touched solid concrete, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to check the battery.

  This had been the first and hardest obstacle to address in his research. Without the web to hunt for answers, he was left with good old-fashioned trial and error. He knew enough about friction and electricity to make a few guesses, but it mostly took a lot of time. He jumped swiftly onto the Schwinn 10-speed bike he’d hooked up to both the battery and his computer and began pedaling. He counted the seconds in his head. When he reached six-hundred, he stopped. He only needed a few minutes to see if his experiment would work, and he was too excited to put in the required thirty minutes of exercise. He could do that at another time if this first run-through was a success.

  He leapt off and crouched behind his computer, a reconstructed Acer laptop with more wires hanging off it than inside. Finding this laptop had been his very first win after the Fall. He had found it in a second-hand computer store, sitting dormant in the back office on a shelf where outdated technology went to collect dust. It now operated off its own independent power source, a makeshift solar panel that he used to routinely charge the battery every morning.

  Its green screen glowed at him, waiting for a command. He typed swiftly and pressed hard on the return key. Then he held his breath.

  The microwave hummed to life above him, power from the bike generating the centralized radiation mechanism and activating the equipment inside. He turned his gaze toward the rest of the open warehouse, and waited.

  Noah had spent the last few weeks collecting different types of Grid technology. GridFridges, GridAir blow dryers, older generation Gridphones, GridGlasses. All had the distinct sleek lines of twenty-second-century design, a stark contrast to the older technology at his fingertips and dangling from the air. White, silver accents, beautifully three-dimensionally printed and produced. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the telltale white powerup lights began to blink on.

  First came the cell phones and GridGlasses, emitting familiar dings as they came to life. Then the small household appliances. The Grid Air blow dryer had been left on in its previous life, and its roar filled the room.

  Noah swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight.

  Never would he imagine so much noise would trigger his memories. He thought of his mother brushing his younger sister’s hair by the sink while he played with the bathroom presets. They were in an African savannah one second, then on a Hawaiian island the next, the ceiling and walls transformed with startling realism while his mother chatted with her friend through her own feeds, unperturbed by their flickering surroundings. His favorite setting was “prehistoric jungle”, where dinosaurs roamed the land, their footsteps coming alive through the vibrations programmed into the floor. His sister would shriek and clap with each reptilian sighting in the digital landscape.

  In his mind, he heard the bell from the kitchen as breakfast was delivered, the smell of blueberry pancakes wafting down the hallway, piping hot from the rapid drone delivery service. School would begin soon. All he had to do now was eat, pack his backpack, and jump in the GridCar waiting outside their home, the autonomous vehicle scheduled to take him straight to Gladden Farms Elementary School.

  Back way before the mass exodus, before the Fall, back when he and his family were happy. Before the sickness and the hospital visits-

  He blinked, and his family disappeared and he was back in the warehouse. The noise became a shrill assault on his ears.

  He picked up a phone and examined the screen. It glowed brightly, but it was only a white screen. He tapped his fingers across the surface. Nothing happened. The cloud source was inaccessible. That was okay, he reminded himself. One step at a time, he was figuring out the power source. He had managed to temporarily recreate the Grid environment, even if it was only for a specific square footage. The information source would be an entirely different obstacle, but he still considered himself halfway there.

  If he could actually figure this out, he could restore the city. The people would return. He could-

  A loud pop came from above, and he turned to see black smoke curling up from the microwave door. He threw the cell phone down and sprinted back to the bike. He yanked the cord from the battery, and the microwave went still. All GridGear went dark, their lights blinking out just as quickly as they came on. Silence filled the room.

  Noah climbed the ladder, taking each rung in quick succession. He gingerly lifted the microwave out of its tether and tucked it under one arm, keeping his other arm firmly hooked around the ladder. He made his slow descent, shifting his weight carefully to keep from dropping the appliance. It felt warm against his body. When he reached the bottom, he opened the door. Charred circuit boards and wires spilled out onto the ground.

  If this were to work, he’d need to come up with a way to protect the equipment from prolonged radiation exposure. Something he knew he’d have to think about eventually but was hoping wouldn’t be an actual problem. Now he’d have to replace the whole thing.

  “Dammit.” He shoved the microwave aside.

  Thunder cracked above him. A second later, the soft pattering of raindrops hit the metal roof. He leapt to his feet. He had been so absorbed in his work, he hadn’t paid attention
to the weather. He scooped up the circuit boards and wires and shoved them into his bag. Then he shut down his laptop.

  He needed to get home.

  Chapter Three

  It was times like these when Noah became fully aware of how lonely he was.

  It wasn’t easy finding a girlfriend in post-apocalyptic conditions. He was never good at relationships to begin with, but there was something about the first rainfall of the season that made him wish that he wasn’t so alone, possibly for the rest of his life.

  There was one woman around town he’d noticed, but he hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. Her name was Ellie, and from his far-sighted observations she was beautiful and smart. She was a doctor or nurse of some kind, and she walked around the neighborhood every day, visiting different families for wellness checks. The first time he’d seen her she was visiting the house to treat his roommate’s broken finger.

  She was serious, and smart, and therefore intimidating, so Noah avoided her.

  Raindrops splashed on his head and shoulders as he slid the warehouse door shut and turned the key in the lock before slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. He lived in the nearby Barrio Historico district in downtown Tucson, and like almost everyone else, traveled by foot. Nature slowly reclaimed infrastructure over the year, and desert brush now pushed through the cracked pavement, leaving behind an uneven and broken surface which people quickly learned meant death for skateboards, bicycles, and any other wheeled devices.

  Barrio Historico had been one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city. People lived in square houses made from compacted earth and stucco, their front stoops identifiable by their brightly-colored southwestern doors and short concrete steps. Each building was painted in bright contrasting colors; cheerful red, iridescent green, royal purple. Tall prickly pear and saguaro cacti dotted the tiny front yards, blocked off by uneven sidewalk. They were historic homes on historic infrastructure, which is why they served as a refuge when the Grid went out.

  The initial days after the Fall had been filled with uncertainty and chaos. Those who wanted to take advantage of the remaining charge in their car batteries fled the city. Thousands of vehicles clogged the interstate in what became known as the Great Exodus, some losing power along the outskirts, the passengers abandoned beneath the summer sun. No one knew what had happened to those who made it out. Those left behind were hungry and desperate. By the end of the first summer, many more had died.

  Only a small cluster of survivors remained now, and they banded together in small communities throughout the city. No more than a hundred people lived in the square mile of closely packed adobe houses in the Barrio Historico. Each section of the neighborhood fed into its own septic tank and one of the city’s oldest water wells was located just behind the neighborhood. Noah had helped to install solar panels on the houses.

  Lightning flashed and Noah flinched in anticipation. Thunder rumbled across the sky.

  They could harvest rainwater again and reduce the strain on the well for a few months. The underground aquifer had long served as a primary water source for the city, but he didn’t know how long their well would last without proper maintenance.

  He shielded his eyes from raindrops as he ducked under porches and awnings to stay dry. A few people stood curiously in their doorways. A child no older than seven stood on her front porch with her hands outstretched, raindrops spilling out of her palm and onto the ground. She looked up at the sky in amazement. When he was a kid, the monsoon had only symbolized the end of the intense summer heat. Now, it was life-giving in the harsh desert environment. She watched him pass.

  Noah heard a familiar voice coming from behind her inside the house, light and musical. Was that Ellie? His eyes darted quickly through the open doorway to see who it was-

  “Mija, ven aca!” a different voice called sharply from inside.

  Noah hurried past.

  He turned the corner toward his own street. He recognized his house by its bright magenta walls and purple door. A saguaro stood proudly next to the steps. Despite its cramped quarters and aged structure, he was fond of the place he now called home. It was located within walking distance of both his warehouse and the water well, and months of work had transformed the house into a tiny, centralized power plant.

  His roommate had parked in front of the house. Noah frowned. As the owners of the only running vehicle in the city, they usually kept it in their locked garage, but today Liam hadn’t bothered.

  Noah and Liam had quickly discovered each other’s usefulness after crossing paths during the Fall. Noah’s background in computer engineering was helpful in creating localized power sources. They could do small things, like power refrigerators and turn the light on and off. He even transformed Liam’s vehicle into an electric car and set up a charging station to their generator. He attached solar panels onto the car roof, but in the event of cloudy days, still required an early morning bicycle workout to charge the battery. Liam welcomed the daily exercise without complaint.

  Liam didn’t understand computers or know how to reroute the water lines, but Noah couldn’t think of a better roommate. He had been a county sheriff for only a few months before the Grid fell, but that simply meant he never had a chance to outgrow his youthful idealism. His combat training and weapons expertise made Noah feel safe, but Liam also had a talent for leading others. He had been the one that organized the small safety patrol that kept the gangs out of the neighborhood, and brought the neighborhood together to find supplies. Every day, Liam woke up and left to do his normal rounds of the city, driving the cracked streets and looking for anyone who needed help. He stopped at each of the trading posts to make sure the farmers weren’t being harassed and to respond to any transaction issues. It wasn’t unusual for Liam to occasionally bring someone to the house who needed help. When those times happened, Noah made sure to be as accommodating as possible.

  As long as they stayed away from his work.

  Liam was now making his way slowly from the car to their door, carrying a woman in his arms.

  “Hey!” Noah called, quickening his steps. “I’ll get it for you.”

  He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the entrance. The hinges groaned loudly as the door swung open, revealing a small family room adorned with mismatched furniture and blackened carpet. Paint flaked off the walls and ceiling and covered the floor in a fine layer of dust. Liam pushed past him through the doorway and gently placed the woman on the cracked leather sofa. Noah looked curiously at her. She was no older than twenty. She breathed evenly, and every now and then her eyes fluttered.

  “There’s blood everywhere,” he said.

  “Yes,” Liam said, “but it’s either old or not hers. Check for a wound, I can’t find any.” He saw Noah glance at her red-stained feet, and he wiped his hand across her soles. “Blood, yes. Open lacerations? Cuts? Gone.”

  “Did she get caught in the storm?” Noah asked, looking at the sheet she wore around her body as a dress. It wasn’t unusual to see something like that these days. Everyone wore their clothes until they fell apart, and some would make new clothes out of household items. Noah usually preferred to steal from the Buffalo Exchange first.

  Liam’s face was grave, and he nodded toward the kitchen. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.”

  * * *

  “The roof was floating?”

  The rain drummed lightly overhead as the overcast, late afternoon sky turned the inside of the house dark and muted. Noah leaned against the quietly humming refrigerator, his arms crossed. Liam stood across the room from him at the sink, his back to the window, hands resting on the counter edge.

  Liam nodded.

  “I mean, obviously the wind lifted it up?”

  “No. It was her. I saw it when I drove up, she held up the roof like this,” he held his arms overhead. “By the time I got out of the car, there was a man with her. He hit her and was going to do it again-”
/>
  “You shot him.”

  “I did, at least I think I did, but I couldn’t find him after the sandstorm cleared.”

  “Do you think he’s still out there?”

  “If he is, he can’t be in good shape.” His voice was low. “I shot him four times in the chest. There was a lot of blood.”

  Noah shifted uncomfortably, imagining the sensation of bullets piercing him through his own chest. “And what...you think she did the roof thing using magic?”

  “I know it sounds crazy.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m sure they didn’t teach this kind of stuff at the police academy.” Noah looked toward the front room, suddenly nervous. “Should she be here then? I’m fine with you helping her, but I’d like to keep my ceiling on.”

  “ I can’t leave her yet.”

  “Because you think this guy will find her? You shot him in the chest. I don’t think there are any hospitals around that can treat him now. At this point, you probably don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “I don’t know what to believe at this point. She isn’t normal. He may not be either.”

  Noah tread lightly. “Maybe a microburst or something kept the ceiling in the air for a little bit?”

  Liam arched an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, maybe.”

  A crash came from the front of the house and they both jumped. Liam’s hand flew to his gun as they both darted to the front room.

  Nothing much had changed since they left the woman on the couch, except now the woman was awake and lying on the floor, the coffee table upended on its side. She looked up as they entered the room, eyes wide in terror.

  Noah was struck by how black her eyes looked. He slid to a stop in the doorway.

  Liam quickly slipped his gun back in its holster. “You’re okay,” he said quickly. “Do you remember me?”

  The woman brushed tangled hair out of her eyes with her fingers. Liam held out his hand carefully as if he were taming a wild animal. Noah started. Her face was remarkably pretty, with strong Native American features.