He put them outside for someone to wash them. Randy knocked on the door of the divorcée. He helped her, and he interacted with her daughter. Both seemed a little guarded, but it went well. At least they were on the same page.
The weather started to get warmer. May can be a paradox in the Boston area. Trees were blooming, and green shoots were coming in everywhere. Officer Ryan drove up in his antique motorcycle. He thought the other collaborative was doing fine. They learned from our playbook. He stayed for several hours. We cooked a little and listened to the survival radio.
Officer Ryan did say some supplies were coming in. Thousands had lost their lives. The first shipments were slated for the sick and elderly. There was a tent city up and running in the middle of Maine. You needed a note from the police or your town office to go there. The staff would get you some supplies—laundry soap, rice, beans etc. If I wanted to share with others, he might send a policeman to accompany me. I told him that I needed a few weeks of calmness. I knew that with supplies dwindling, I would have to do something.
‘Lie’ a very sick patient, we have stopped the disease from spreading further.
“Listen, Officer Ryan. Let me be blunt,” I said. “I know that your commander has a Faraday system in place. The town hall and the state and federal government all take care of themselves first,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“Our forefathers wanted the power to be with the people, not the politicians. There are more communication radios, phones, and other things being shipped either by our government and other governments. Why not let each little district elect their own people? They can set up the radios and communications themselves. This way we can control some of our own destiny,” I said.
“You have been a true leader, Mr. Randal,” Officer Ryan proclaimed.
“I know the lieutenant and the governor’s office have a lot of respect for you. All of us who are in the public sector don’t always realize this. I myself forget it sometimes.”
Officer Ryan continued, “Our pay and job security make us separate from most of you. All of us forget who is working for who. I will definitely pass on your sentiments. I do hope there is a light at the end of this tunnel.”
“I hope so too, Officer Ryan,” I retorted. “You know how Randy likes his football. If we ever normalize, wouldn’t it be great to see a Patriots football game. At halftime the real event will be their mascots.
They are dressed as patriots. They can march to the middle of the field and shoot their muskets.”
“You have vision and eternal hope, Mr. Randal.” Officer Ryan said as he mounted his antique motorbike.
“What do we have if we don’t have hope?” I said to Officer Ryan.
Officer Ryan started the bike and gave me a salute as he drove away.
EPILOGUE
EVERY NATION HAS a tipping point. During the French Revolution the queen uttered her famous words: “let them eat cake”. She lost her head; powerful words indeed. For our nation the powerful words say: “It’s the economy, stupid.” The kettle had reached its boiling point.
Ben has risen to the occasion. They are surviving with a mixture of the present, and values one would find in the 1800s. Our government already has a big tent—social security, food stamps, Medicare, etc. They are starting to outnumber the workers. It’s like a team of horses pulling a cart. The cart has much weight on it (our national debt). One horse is tired, so you put him (or her) on the cart, which means less horses pull the cart and there’s more weight to pull. Add the heft of an EMP attack, and we can’t survive without the help of more horses.
With his master’s degree, Ben is anxious to work again. With her motherly instincts, Alice misses the part-time job. What kind of future is there for Jessica?
And Randy? They both have the desire and talent to go on. Let’s not forget about the attorney. There is no way he will keep pushing that lawn mower. I am sure when he finishes his mowing, he rubs his hands and then yells out, “I’ll sue those ba––s.”
More information is coming out about the unaffected areas in northern Maine and our West Coast. Perhaps they can help us.
The anxiety level will reach a boiling point with the Randal’s and others. For now Ben is finding some kindling wood, and Randy is polishing his Buick. Alice is keeping the family together, and insecure Jessica is on a mission to save the drunk.
In our family and in our little community, we have chosen the life-affirming position of old-fashioned values. The wrath of an EMP attack pushed us to this way of life in order to survive. Hopefully, with help of more of the horses, we can pull over the larger hills like the lust for power and around the ruts of bigotry hatred and selfishness. We will see. It’s not 1776, but it should be interesting.
Pacific Book Review
“It had been seven days since the EMP [electromagnetic pulse] nuke had gone off.” The EMP affects every electrical device in its path, especially today’s state-of-the art cars. Ben Randal and his family live in Massachusetts. Back when they lived in Nebraska, Ben’s son purchased a 1956 Buick Rivera. At the time, Ben considered the vintage vehicle a waste of money. But in light of the nuclear attack, the Buick is one of the few cars running in the area. A strange collection once belonging to Ben’s father-in-law also comes in handy, which includes a survival radio, survival kit, MREs [meals ready to eat], a.22 rifle, and a first-aid kit, just to name a few.
Since water supplies are low, Ben heads out with his daughter and her friend to a little known watering hole in Connecticut. The drive is replete with the same battle zone scenery from town to town and throughout Providence, Rhode Island—abandoned and ransacked cars, and stores sprinkled with miscreants. Not wanting to use his gun, Ben comes to the defense of an older man who lost his wife to a group of thugs. Soon after returning home, Ben follows the advice of a friend to start a collaborative with his neighbors. Although the collaborative is working out well, the real problem is long turn survival. That said, Ben’s wife wonders how her mother is fairing in a Boston hospital.
When he enlists the help of a local officer to drive into Boston, Ben has no idea what he will be up against.
Kravitz creates an Armageddon-like plot in his debut novella. Designed like a memoir, Kravitz features Ben, a religious and patriotic man who is doing everything in his power to protect his family. First impressions of Kravitz’ writing style give the appearance that he does not have a good handle on his craft—non-flowing dialogue scenes filled with melodrama, for example. Considering that this is a first person account, Kravitz’ portrayal of an underdog-gish character with low self-esteem issues trying to live an idealistic lifestyle puts the narrative in proper perspective.
Although extremely very little—if none at all—is mentioned about Ben’s upbringing, there is enough information captured in Ben’s thought processes and in whatever past he does share to give readers a idea that this man is struggling internally. Indeed, as the world around him seems to be falling apart and he is aware that corruption abounds among officials, he still believes that somehow, someway his government will provide for the American people.
Ben’s unresolved personal conflicts come out whether he wants them to or not. This is especially pronounced in his relationship with his wife. Female readers may find Ben’s degrading opinion of women disturbing. Although contained only in his thoughts, Ben wishes the Red Light District was up and running so he could offer a “gift” to the local officer. He also wishes he could send his son to Amsterdam to get him more interested in women. Still keeping to traditional societal values of the 1950s and 60s, Ben expects his wife to have meals ready. His idealistic lifestyle against a modern setting also flows into his family, and as a result there are plenty of moments that describe Ben’s dysfunctional household. Aside of a scene where Ben’s wife hopes to please him by ironing and pressing his work suit, much of the familial dialogue follows a stiff unnerving conservative format.
Boston Darkens may not attract a wide audience, but it will certainly be appealing for readers who love character and plot analysis.
“I did not want her to see my tears. I had to show strength. Maybe it was a man thing. There were a lot of things I could have said to her, but my mind turned quickly. I had to show confidence and a little leadership.”
After a nuclear explosion causes an electromagnetic pulse that effectively shuts down all electronics, communications, and modern transportation, Ben Randal struggles to keep his family and community intact in the face of a rapidly deteriorating society. Kravitz wastes no time pulling readers into the action, as Ben must undertake a dangerous cross-state quest for much-needed fresh water for his family.
Using his son’s restored 1956 Buick, an older car immune to the effects of the EMP, Ben and his fellow travelers must dodge a sea of stranded modern vehicles and rotting bodies, while evading roving looters and gangs. Unfortunately, Ben can’t avoid shooting one such attacker. While entirely justified, Ben anguishes over what he’s done. Rather than continue down a path of violence, however, Ben vows to keep his family and community together and calls on each member’s skills to create a neighborhood collaborative with a common goal: survival. Even the town drunk is given a place in Ben’s new society and is no longer regarded as an outcast.
Kravitz wisely avoids dwelling on the reasons for the attack and instead focuses on the human response to the tragedy. At the same time, he largely steers clear of the post-apocalyptic violence of stories like Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead or Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, preferring instead to highlight the inherent good in people to pull together in times of tragedy and strife. The book underscores a message of hope and the resilience of the human spirit. While grammatical errors are prevalent, at just 100 pages, the book is a tight, fast-paced read with an uplifting outcome.
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