Blackout

by Robison Wells

Page 10

 

  “Until we get tired,” Laura said.

  The officer stepped back and patted the hood of the truck. “Well, be safe. Stay awake. ”

  Laura stuffed the license and insurance back into the glove compartment, thanked the officer, and then steered the car through the roadblock.

  “That was a close one,” Dan said.

  “Easy,” Alec answered. “Have I ever failed you?”

  “I could have taken them both,” Laura said.

  Alec ignored that. It was her answer for everything, and it would leave a huge trail for police to follow.

  He pulled out his smartphone again. “Dan, you want natural stone?”

  Dan yawned. “You find something?”

  Alec opened a picture and handed the phone back to Dan. “How’s that?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Maybe an hour and a half away. Depends on the traffic. ”

  Laura turned to look at him, the grin on her face illuminated by the glow of the phone. “Two in one day?”

  Alec looked in the rearview mirror. “Better get some sleep, Dan. ”

  EIGHT

  “IF ANYONE WAS THERE, WE’D have seen them by now,” Jack whispered.

  Aubrey knew he was probably right, but he didn’t have as much to lose as she did. Jack wasn’t a freak. The army hadn’t shown up at the dance to take him.

  As Aubrey and Jack waited in the tall, dry grass behind her trailer park, the disaster at the Gunderson Barn kept replaying in her mind. One thing was nagging at her.

  A soldier had referred to Nate as a “possible Lambda. ” What was a Lambda? She knew lambda was a letter in the Greek alphabet, she’d heard about it in physics—a lambda particle—and she’d seen lambda used in math before. But it wasn’t really what it meant that was nagging her; it was that it meant something. Whatever Nate was, he was a possible Lambda. The army knew about Lambdas. They knew about freaks.

  Am I a Lambda?

  The thought both scared and exhilarated her. Whatever made Aubrey invisible had a name. Someone was researching it. Maybe someone was looking for a cure.

  Maybe. Or maybe they were looking for Lambdas to exterminate them.

  “It’s been fifteen minutes,” Jack said, looking at his watch.

  There were lights on in a few of the mobile homes, including hers, but nothing had moved. A car drove down the highway every minute or two, never slowing to glance at the run-down trailer park.

  Cautiously, Aubrey stood and then squeezed through a break in the fence as she’d done a thousand times before. Jack hurried behind her and they slipped quietly down the dirt road to the second home on the right. It was filthy, more so than it used to be, now that Aubrey had a life other than helping her dad. She felt a twinge of embarrassment.

  No, it’s just Jack. He’s been here almost every day since we were little.

  The door was unlocked, as usual, and Aubrey stepped inside. Jack followed her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Her father’s voice was slurred and loud, breaking through the small amount of calm they’d felt out in the darkness. He stood in the kitchen, fiddling with a can of something.

  Aubrey stepped to her father and gave him a hug. “Just here to change clothes, Daddy. ”

  “What happened to your dress?” he nearly shouted. He had about ten days’ worth of unshaven beard, and his long gray hair was out of place as if he’d been sleeping.

  “It’s been a long night,” she said.

  Jack spoke up. “Do you mind if I turn on the news?”

  “Go ahead,” her father replied, his hands and voice shaking. “It’s all crap. ”

  Jack sat on the well-worn couch and found the remote for the old TV.

  Aubrey helped her dad as he fumbled with the can opener, cutting the top off a small can of generic chili.

  “. . . those reports from a few minutes ago that the Glen Canyon Dam terrorists had been apprehended are now being called false. Officials are urging everyone—including those on blogs and social media—to not spread unconfirmed rumors. ”

  Aubrey paused in front of the TV. She saw for the first time the footage of the collapsed dam—the crumbled cement clinging to the canyon walls as a torrent of water spewed into the Grand Canyon. There were still boats on the lake, kicking up a stream of churning white foam as they fought the current to reach the marina. It had still been light when these videos were taken; she wondered how much worse it was now.

  “I’m going to change,” she mumbled, and headed to her room.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, taking in a deep breath.

  Her room was small—a tiny space with thin walls and a linoleum floor—but she felt safe for the first time that night. It was the one place in the entire town where she didn’t have to put on a show, where she didn’t have to be someone else.

  Sometimes, in her room, she didn’t even feel like her dad’s caretaker. In her room—she was free.

  She took off the heavy sheepskin coat and inspected her dress in front of the mirror on her closet door. It was a complete loss. Aside from the mud stains, which were everywhere, the satin was snagged and scratched from every time she’d pushed through bushes or waded through alfalfa. Even if she could get it cleaned, it would look terrible. She slipped it off and tossed it in a pile in the corner.

  First dance, over.

  She wondered where she was going, what clothes she should wear. Her wardrobe was extensive now—all stolen from the mall in the city—but most of what Nicole had talked Aubrey into getting was too delicate for the uncertainty that lay ahead. The expensive jeans, the loose, thin tops, the cute sandals. Aubrey didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she’d be on her own, and that the few times she’d be around people she’d be invisible.

  She picked a pair of jeans that, while still expensive, seemed durable, like they could handle the outdoors. She layered her tops—a T-shirt, a long-sleeve button-up plaid, and a sweater. She didn’t have nice hiking boots, so she pulled on a recently acquired pair of cross trainers.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t the old worn-out Aubrey she used to be, but she wasn’t the stylish popular girl Nicole had helped her become, either. She was half and half. She wasn’t anyone.

  Aubrey plopped down on the bed and put her head in her hands. What was she going to do? She could take her . 22 with her, but she couldn’t live off the land, not forever. And going into the city wouldn’t help: sure, she’d have access to food and clothes that she could steal on a whim, but she’d be homeless. She couldn’t stay invisible forever.

  She wanted to cry, but stopped herself. It wouldn’t help anything, and she had cried enough that night.

  Jack was on the edge of his seat, staring at the TV when Aubrey came back out of her room. He didn’t look up.

  “What’s the news?” she asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.

  “Roundups,” he said. “It’s not just here. ”

  Aubrey’s stomach turned, and she slid down onto the seat next to him.

  “Apparently it started a couple days ago,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “They’ve been keeping it quiet. It’s mostly rumors at this point, but it’s happening all over the place. The official word is that it’s for protection, but others say it’s for some kind of testing. The National Guard has been going door to door. ”