Blackout b-1

by Robison Wells

“She’s hot.”

  Aubrey felt herself blush.

  Nate nodded.

  “Here’s what I want to know,” Lewis said. “We’ve all been in school together since kindergarten.” He was looking at Thomas but gesturing to the other two boys. “And so has little Aubrey Parsons. And until this year no one would give her a second glance.”

  Aubrey’s chest tightened. Nothing they said would be good. But she couldn’t get herself to leave—she needed to hear what Nate would say.

  But he didn’t say a word. He just shrugged.

  “Why not?” Thomas was asking Lewis, but it was Scott who answered.

  “Because she’s trailer trash. Until she started hanging out with Nicole, I think she had like three old shirts that she wore over and over.”

  “And her dad’s a drunk,” Lewis added. “Like, slobbering, fall-down, filthy drunk.”

  “Just like you,” Aubrey yelled, knowing they couldn’t hear her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes but fought them off.

  “So what?” Thomas said. “Like I said, she’s hot. Didn’t you see her tonight?”

  Scott shook his head. “Nicole must have bought the dress. I think she buys all of Aubrey’s clothes now.”

  That wasn’t true, but Aubrey hated the real answer even more. She didn’t want to think about it.

  Nate smiled wryly. “Aubrey may be poor, but she makes up for it in other ways.”

  The group burst into laughter, and Aubrey ran forward, right in front of Nate. “I do not!” she screamed. “That’s a lie, you pig!”

  Maybe it was stupid and risky, but at that moment she didn’t care: she jumped at Nate, both hands slamming into his chest. Partly from being unprepared and partly because of the alcohol, he tumbled off the low wall and into a patch of flowers. The open bottle lay on his shirt, spilling its contents onto his chest.

  The other boys howled in delight as he struggled to get up, and Aubrey took a pleased step back.

  Aubrey’s invisibility wasn’t like the movies. She still didn’t understand how any of it worked—or how she’d ended up being able to do it—but from practicing over and over with Nicole, she knew it wasn’t as plain as just disappearing. Instead, people simply didn’t notice her. She could yell, or slap, or punch, and no one would detect it. They’d feel the punch—like Nate had—but they wouldn’t recognize it for what it was. They’d think they’d slipped, or that they’d gotten a sudden muscle spasm, or that a wind (or drunkenness) had knocked them over. But they’d never see her, or hear her. It was like their minds just blocked her out completely.

  Nate was looking stupid, awkwardly trying to climb back up off the lawn.

  Aubrey checked her dress to make sure she hadn’t been splashed with any of the alcohol. The boys had stopped talking about girls and had switched to football. The North Sanpete Hawks had pummeled the Manti Templars in the homecoming game.

  She was tired of spying. Who cared what these boys were saying? She was going back into the dance to tell Nicole that Nate could go to hell.

  THREE

  JACK COOPER SAT A QUARTER mile from the Gunderson Barn, up a hill in his dad’s pickup. His mom had packed him a bologna sandwich for a midnight snack, but he was eating it now, mostly out of boredom.

  Below him he could see the kids at the dance and could hear the blare of the music. It was too far to make out any faces, but Jack was fine with that. If he couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was a janitor at his own high school, the school had asked him to clean up after the homecoming dance, too. It was time-and-a-half pay, and he couldn’t say no to that, but he didn’t want to even go down the hill until everyone was gone. He needed the money, but he didn’t need to be seen.

  He could easily spot the cops surrounding the barn. The town only had four officers, but in light of recent events they’d asked for volunteers to come and guard the dance. Jack sighed. In light of recent events, no one should be leaving their house.

  He’d only been a little kid when 9/11 happened—too young to even know about it, really—but there was a 9/11 every day now. Three straight weeks of terrorist attacks. No rhyme or reason. No arrests had been made, no suspects were being interrogated. Subways, government buildings, national landmarks, power plants, restaurants. Jack wondered how people had the courage to go outside anymore.

  They didn’t, he reminded himself. Except for little towns like Mount Pleasant that no terrorist would care about.

  He clicked on the radio.

  “. . . take twenty to twenty-four hours for the water to travel the three hundred miles to Lake Mead. An unnamed representative of the Bureau of Reclamation said that if Hoover Dam overflows for a sustained period then that dam will likely fail. Hoover Dam officials have fully opened the spillways in an effort to dump as much water as possible before the bulk of Lake Powell arrives.”

  Jack sat up a little straighter. Had Lake Powell been attacked? The reporter started talking about evacuations on Lake Mead, and Jack changed to another station.

  “—we’re told that the Glen Canyon Bridge is in danger of collapse due to rising water levels below what used to be the dam.”

  What used to be the dam?

  This was the closest terrorist attack to Mount Pleasant yet—maybe only five hours away. He’d gone to Powell with a scout troop a couple of years ago and had caught the biggest fish of his life—a twelve-pound striped bass.

  Could the lake really be gone? A wave of nausea washed over Jack, and he stepped outside the truck, leaning on the open door and sucking in a breath of fresh air. He could see through the massive barn doors below him, could see the kids dancing carefree while the world was falling apart. Shadows ran playfully on the lawn and in and out of the trees. His friends were down there.

  His former friends.

  It used to be the three of them—Jack Cooper, Aubrey Parsons, and Matt Ganza. Jack was always with one of them, for as long as he could remember. Aubrey was the smart one, tutoring Jack in almost every subject—except history, the one class he loved. Matt had never seemed to have a care in the world, except for sports, but he’d always been terrible at them. Now, suddenly he was the star of everything. Went from benchwarmer to starting quarterback. The basketball coach had already promised him a starting spot on the varsity team. He—regular old Ganza—was at the dance tonight with Nicole Samuelson, the homecoming queen.

  And Aubrey. She was too good for anyone now. Last year, Jack had actually gotten the courage to ask her to junior prom, but she’d said no. She’d cried, told him she would if she could just afford a dress. And then she’d been too embarrassed to ever talk about it again—or to let him bring it up.

  So now there was only Jack. Jack the friggin’ janitor, waiting to clean up once everyone else had their fun.

  He wondered if any of the kids he could see were Ganza or Aubrey. One of the guys sitting on the wall, one of the couples holding hands, the girl in the electric-blue dress.

  None of them knew about Lake Powell. He wondered if he should go down and tell them.

  In the distance, a long line of headlights approached the barn.

  Wait a minute . . .

  He pushed the door closed quickly, dousing the light in the cab. He climbed up into the bed of the truck and peered through the darkness ahead, trying to get a better look.

  FOUR

  AUBREY HAD ONLY MADE IT a few yards when something stopped her. There were two people in the shadows, watching the boys. Had they heard what Nate had said—what he had insinuated about her?

  It was too dark to make out more than their vague shapes, but they were big. Obviously boys. Would Nate’s comments spread even faster? Nicole could stop the gossip. Aubrey had to talk to her.

  But if Nicole was going to stop the rumors, she’d have to know who had heard them. Aubrey walked toward the side of the barn, where giant timbers jutted out from the wall, creating a wide dark alcove. She felt light-headed and unsteady. She’d been invisi
ble for too long. As she went on there were more—dark shapes hidden in the shadows all around her, all around the barn.

  Aubrey took a step back, and barely caught herself from falling.

  It wasn’t just boys in the shadows. They were three soldiers—two crouched and one standing, all of them fully dressed in combat gear. They wore helmets and large goggles, and a black cloth covered their noses and mouths like a ski mask. The two men crouching held rifles at the ready, while the one standing had his slung over one shoulder.

  Was this some kind of prank? The uniforms looked too real, and no high school student would be stupid enough to use guns as a joke—not with what was going on all over the country. Aubrey backed away, and then turned and ran toward where she’d seen the first dark shapes.

  They were soldiers, too.

  Her head was spinning. She needed to get back inside.

  What if they weren’t soldiers? What if they were terrorists in disguise?

  She lifted her dress up almost to her knees and jogged toward the front doors. A caravan of school buses was pulling into the parking lot, led by a pair of army jeeps.

  The place was being surrounded, and she didn’t know why. She needed to tell someone. Nicole would know what to do.

  Cautiously, she stepped through the open doors of the barn, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The music was still playing and everyone was dancing and laughing.

  She pushed through the crowd, bumping into more people than she normally would have, but she couldn’t slow to be more careful. Besides, no one would notice her anyway. She hadn’t reappeared. They might feel a movement, but to them it would seem like nothing more than a muscle twitch.

  Near the speakers at the far side of the room, she spotted Nicole surrounded by a circle of girls. As Aubrey reached the group she started fading back in, and wormed her way into the center, becoming fully visible as she did.

  “Aubrey,” Nicole said, shouting over the blaring speakers. “You look terrible.”

  “I know. Can we go talk?”

  “Later.”

  “No,” Aubrey said, taking Nicole’s arm. “Now.”

  Suddenly, the music stopped, and the dimmed lights were brought up to full strength. There were groans from the students and a few shouted at the DJ to turn things back on.

  Wishing she were taller, Aubrey jumped up to look over the others’ heads toward the door. She couldn’t see any of the soldiers yet.

  “What’s going on?” Nicole asked.

  Aubrey turned to her. “I don’t know. I think we might be evacuated. The army’s outside.”

  “The army?”

  “I hope it’s the army,” Aubrey said under her breath.

  A man appeared from the back of the barn—a soldier in camouflage, but not wearing all the gear or a helmet. He walked to the DJ table and took the microphone.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience,” the man said. “But we have to cut the evening short.” He was smiling, but his eyes were grim and cold.

  “They’re all over outside,” Aubrey whispered to Nicole. Aubrey’s arms and legs felt weak, and her head was still fuzzy.

  “First, I want to assure you that there is no reason for alarm,” the man said. “When I give the order, we’ll simply have you exit the building in a quiet and orderly fashion. The school district has sent buses which will take you back into town.”

  There was an outcry from the crowd, and the soldier motioned for everyone to be quiet. “In the interest of public safety, I’m going to need you to follow my instructions.”

  Aubrey craned her neck to look back toward the wide barn door, and saw at least a dozen soldiers. A few more had appeared from a side hallway. They were spreading out in the room, surrounding the students.

  “Please,” the soldier said, though his voice made the word sound like an order rather than a request, “walk in a single file line and keep your hands at your sides.”

  From over by the main door, Aubrey could hear a soldier bark a command at the students. The room was humming with whispers.

  Nicole touched Aubrey’s hand, her eyes frightened. “You don’t think they’re here for . . . you, right?”

  Aubrey paused. She hadn’t even thought about that. “What? Of course not. It’s about the terrorists.”

  Nicole looked nervous—a look Aubrey had never seen on Nicole before. “Isn’t that how it happens to people like you in movies, though?” she asked. “Testing?”

  “This isn’t a movie,” Aubrey said, suddenly panicked. “It has to be something else. How would anyone have found out?”

  Nicole shook her head.

  “I’m going to go,” Aubrey whispered.

  Nicole grabbed her hand, but Aubrey was already vanishing. Aubrey, now invisible, brushed Nicole’s hand away, and watched the puzzled look on her face as she reached and grasped for Aubrey’s unseen body.

  Aubrey didn’t care right then how it worked. Panic was gripping her as Nicole’s words sunk in.

  Were they here for her?

  Aubrey gave Nicole a final look, wondering when they’d talk again, and then forced her way out of the crowd into the night air.

  The parking lot was brightly lit with floodlights mounted on the tops of four army jeeps. At the far end were the newly arrived school buses. A line of kids waited in the center of the lot, surrounded by more armed soldiers. She realized they were the people she’d seen outside, including the boys—the soldiers must have rounded them up before entering the barn.

  She headed toward them—exhausted from being invisible for so long—hoping that something would let her know if the army was looking for her.

  Two soldiers stood at the front of the line, one carrying a clipboard and the other holding a handful of what looked like plastic hospital bracelets.

  Aubrey was out in the middle of the lights now. Her thin dress was doing nothing to stop the cold, and in her weakened condition she started shivering.

  Kelly was almost at the front of the line, and the look on her face seemed more inconvenienced than worried. As the boy in front of her was directed to the buses, she stepped up to the soldiers.

  “Name?” the man with the clipboard said.

  “Kelly Wagner.”

  He looked through the papers on the clipboard until he found a black-and-white photocopied yearbook picture, and compared it to Kelly’s face.

  “How long is this going to take?” she said.

  He ignored her, and peeled a sticker off his paperwork.

  “Hold out your left wrist,” the second man said, taking the sticker and pressing it onto one of the thick plastic bracelets.

  Kelly obeyed, and the soldier strapped the bracelet on her arm. He tugged on it until Kelly squealed. He then motioned for her to hurry along, and a third soldier escorted her to a bus.

  Aubrey moved to get a better view of the clipboard, but by now she could hardly stand. She waited through two more people, hoping to catch a glimpse of her own name on the list—to see if it was marked in some way.

  Something rumbled, like the low growl of an animal.

  The soldiers noticed it too, and they retreated away from the line of teens. The man with the bracelets dropped them and lifted his rifle, leveling it at the crowd. The other soldier twisted his headset microphone to his mouth.

  “Possible Lambda,” he said. “At the loading area. Over.”

  The soldiers’ fear was contagious and Aubrey stumbled slowly back from the teens—from kids she’d known for as long as she could remember.

  A loudspeaker squawked. “Attention, students. Please get down on the ground, and keep your hands in front of you.”

  The crowd was hesitant to move, and a few of the girls called out, saying that the asphalt would ruin their dresses.

  Aubrey heard the rumble again. It wasn’t an animal—it sounded like rock grinding against rock.

  “Everyone get down,” the voice commanded sharply. All the soldiers’ guns were raised now, and the students slowly began t
o comply.

  Aubrey reached the edge of the lit area. She couldn’t stand any longer and rested on the bumper of a truck. She searched the faces for Nicole, but didn’t see her—the line still wound all the way back into the barn.

  Someone near the front of the line moved. It was Nate, only . . . it wasn’t Nate. He was wearing the same boutonniere she’d pinned on his jacket earlier that night, the same garish tie, but his face was wrong. Aubrey rubbed her eyes to see if fatigue was blurring her vision, but he still looked off. His face and hands were black and rough, almost like the asphalt he was standing on. He stood fully erect, against the soldiers’ orders.

  The soldiers barked at him to get back down, then ordered him to come forward, but he didn’t do either. His eyes—small and black—scanned across the crowd of students as though he was waiting for something.

  The soldiers were screaming at Nate now, commanding him to listen and obey. He spoke words that Aubrey couldn’t hear, and she almost thought she saw his grotesque face smile.

  Then he lunged forward, running toward the nearest soldier. His footsteps were heavy and Aubrey thought she felt the ground shake. Rifles flashed all around the parking lot as the army opened fire on him, but Nate didn’t stop. He collided with the soldier, tackling him to the ground with a horrible crunch. As the bullets hailed into Nate, he stood again, leaving the soldier crumpled in a motionless heap.

  Aubrey dashed across the lawn, her bare feet stumbling. The soldiers weren’t looking for her—they were looking for Nate, and he was some kind of monster. Or were they looking for both of them? At the edge of the lawn she plunged into the bushes, fighting her way through the tangled branches and sticks. Bullets continued to roar behind her, echoed by the screams of the terrified students.

  Finally, she took a step and there was nothing beneath her. She flailed for something to grab, but fell.

  FIVE

  JACK WATCHED AS THE SOLDIERS fired at the—what was it? A gorilla?—but their guns seemed to have no effect.

  The gorilla—no, it was human; it was wearing clothes—attacked another soldier, charging into the direct path of the bullets and leaping forward. The soldier was smashed to the pavement and didn’t get up.