“I’m going to have Grace and Sofie go to the Historic Society and some of the neighbors’ houses. I want them to build a small history chest of this area. There may not be humans here again for hundreds of years. When they arrive I want them to know about the people that inhabited this space.”
It’s somber and eerie but my dad is right to leave some sort of reminder.
“Make sure you leave a note that makes it clear this wasn’t a war or anything man-made that wiped out the population. I don’t want the future to think that we were animals.” I can’t believe how emotional and sensitive this feels. It really matters to me. Only after the silence do I realize that we should also comment on the virus in case they need to find a cure for it themselves.
The silence is awkward and long. I wonder if this is how it is going to be every time we talk about the virus.
“What about Liam?” I ask, ready to move on before my father.
“Liam is going to be muscle today,” Dad says, knowing it sounds mean but comfortable with his decision.
“You know he is smarter than you give him credit for,” I say, not sure if Dad and I are at the point where I get to give the lectures.
“Well, you know better than anyone what happens between you two when he gets going and spins his energy up. Both of you spiral out of control fast, and the last thing I need right now is a fight.”
But I barely hear him say these last words.
I have an idea. It could be just what I needed to complete the reactor. If can shape the containment field into an ever-shrinking spiral, like a snail shell, this will accelerate and compress the anti-matter and have it reach the core at full potential energy. Power comes out one side of the core and waste out the other.
I need to go to the lab and draw a picture so this thought doesn’t disappear. But Liam and Grace are shuffling into the kitchen. I want to be here when Dad explains the plan. It will help me seem like a co-creator and give me some authority.
“Morning, Dad,” says Grace.
“Oh, yeah. Morning, Dad,” says Liam, like he forgot it was morning or that this is what we say to each other every morning of every day.
“Can I get you two some breakfast?” The old Dad is back. I didn’t notice him clearing the counter, but his papers are gone. I guess being on the adult team means I have to get my own breakfast. Or maybe this is his subtle payback for all those mornings I didn’t acknowledge him and went straight to my lab. I don’t really feel like eating anyway.
“I have something I need to try in the lab. Liam, can you come get me in an hour? And don’t let me say no. We have to go get a few things and I really need your help.” That wasn’t very hard. My parents have been trying to get me to communicate little things like this for years. It doesn’t take any brain cycles, but I still don’t really see the point. I guess it makes the other people feel good about what I am doing? I wish they wouldn’t care what I was doing though. But that’s the old world, this is PAD-3 and I am on the adult team.
The hour goes by too fast. I want to tell Liam to go away and give me a little more time. Why is he so annoying? I’ve reconfigured the containment controller to create a circular shape. I just need another twenty minutes or so to add the logic for spiraling near concentric circles. But I remember telling him not to take no for an answer. I’m on the adult team and I have to avoid confrontation, so I save my work and head upstairs.
In my brain, the reactor is done and functional. I can see the anti-matter reaction and the flow of electrons, neutrons and protons. I know this is going to work as soon as I can finish the task of physically implementing my design. The problem I am trying to solve now is making the power output usable in today’s world.
Current power plants have multiple output channels. Each of these channels, in turn, goes to a power substation where it is run through meters, inductors and transformers. Then it heads out on the wire to its final destination. My reactor doesn’t have multiple channels out, just one. That one channel has the power equivalent of 1,000 power plants. I had always assumed that after I released my design there would be people lining up to help me solve this last problem. Now I have to solve it if we are going to survive.
Thinking about controlling power is helping me with Liam right now.
“We have to go to Stellos Electric and BAE. Do you want to drive?” I already know the answer is yes. Liam has moved from “muscle” to driver. In his mind, it’s probably assistant or even co-inventor for my reactor, but I don’t care.
“Can we take the Cayenne?” Liam says before he turns to walk towards the keys.
“No. Besides making Dad angry, it doesn’t have the cargo capacity of the van.” I’ve just realized the point about cargo, but it makes it seem like Dad and I discussed this and we had a plan.
Before we walk out the door, Grace and Sofie come into the kitchen. They are both dressed in yoga pants and sports bras. I absentmindedly sit down at the table. I have seen Grace in her workout clothes a thousand times. From the dozens of guys that ask me about her, I know she is cute. But she is my sister so I don’t really see it. Sofie, on the other hand, is stunning.
Smooth is not in my repertoire. I know this because Liam is talking with Sofie and they are all looking at me now. Someone must have asked a question. Not only do I not have the answer, I can’t even guess at the question. And I’m probably staring.
“Do you guys want a ride?” Maybe having power over the car will give me some coolness.
“No. Seamus, I asked if you knew where Dad is,” Grace is looking at me with her amused you need to pull it together face.
I’m still sitting down and realize that I look foolish, but I’m regaining my faculties.
“I don’t know where Dad is, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have exercise in the plan.” Now I’m getting my swagger.
“Seamus, Dad told me the plan. Sofie and I are going to walk to the Historic Society. If we are going to be cooped up in a car for four days, I want to get some exercise and fresh air now.” Grace does not acknowledge any swagger. “I wanted to tell him we were leaving so he would know where we are. Will you tell him we left?” she says over her shoulder as she and Sofie head out the door. They have known each other for less than 24 hours but have been talking like they were friends for life. I don’t understand how they can have so much to say.
“Come on, Seamus.” Liam is out the door and wants to drive.
I get up from the chair and follow after him. I’m not really sure where we are going or what materials I wanted to source. I hate struggling with things that are not scientific. When there are no facts, there is usually no point, as far as I’m concerned. But my feelings for Sofie have no facts. I can’t rationalize them with a formula. For some reason I just want to catch up to them and walk beside her and listen to what she and Grace talk about. But that would be pointless.
In a fog, I climb into the van and tell Liam we’re good to go.
Chapter 9
Dad was pissed that we didn’t leave a note or some other method of telling him we had left.
We all get a stern lecture about communicating. Sofie is spared a little bit, but Dad makes it pretty clear that if she is going to stay with us she will be held to the same standard. I am a little surprised at how she handles him. She offers a simple, honest apology and an acknowledgement that there is one set of rules for everybody.
Grace tries to explain to Dad that everyone makes mistakes, including adults. But that isn’t what he wants to hear. He calls it backtalk and makes clear that this is not what he expects from his children. I see only a subtle difference between what Grace and Sofie said and I want to argue details and stick up for Grace. But I hold my tongue; the sooner this is over, the better for all of us.
It’s almost one in the afternoon. We’re all standing around the kitchen unsure how to proceed after the lecture.
“Does anyone want nachos with me?” Liam asks as he heads to the fridge.
Food. Lunch. I wonder
why I never get interrupted with thoughts of eating. In the past I have gone almost 36 hours without eating. I get so wrapped up in my work that I don’t even think about food. Sleep has always won out over hunger. But suddenly I’m starving.
Liam makes his nachos, and Grace and Sofie pull some late greens from the garden. Dad is frying up some cold cuts and cheese to put on a bulky roll. My standby is cereal. Today I grab our biggest mixing bowl and fill it with three-quarters of a box of Special K. I finish the milk and head to the sink to rinse out the plastic container. As I turn the water on, I notice that Dad is staring at my bowl.
“Was that the last of the milk?” he asks without looking at me.
“I think so. I didn’t see another one in the fridge,” I say, unsure of why there is so much drama around finishing the milk.
All the motion in the kitchen has stopped and everyone is looking at my bowl. Suddenly I realize what they all seem to have processed already. This is the last milk we will have for a long time. Even if the power stays on, the milk left in the stores will expire today or tomorrow. The last time it was stocked was probably over a week ago. We don’t have a cow or even know how to care for or milk a cow.
It’s bigger than milk. Stuff is running out and the people that make and deliver that stuff are not around to replace it. Today it was milk, but soon it will be meats, fruits and vegetables. Maybe Dad’s sit-tight policy is not as successful as he thought it would be.
“You better eat every drop of that cereal, young man.” My father says in an angry voice.
Why is he mad at me? Somebody had to use the last of it. He never warned me to save milk for someone else. What was I supposed to do, let it go bad in our fridge?
“Enjoy the last milk on the planet son,” he says with a smile.
I don’t get why pretending to be mad at me is funny for him. Maybe he was mad but realized halfway through that he had no right to be. Then he tried to turn it into a joke so we couldn’t see how reactive he really is? I don’t get it, but it seems like his lame humor has snapped everyone back to their food.
“I think we should keep track of the time since most of the population died. I have been referring to Sunday as the day of the apocalypse and the days since as Post-Apocalypse Day x. That makes today Post-Apocalypse Day three, which I abbreviate to PAD-3.” I offer this, trying to take advantage of the relaxed but quiet period.
I’m very proud of my new system. It is clear and simple. You can always work your way back to the beginning and there is no ambiguity from repeating the names of days.
“You mean like change the names on the calendar?” Liam asks, a confused look on his face.
“Well, we don’t need to even keep a calendar. For example we are leaving on PAD-5. There is no confusion about when that is. It’s two days from today. I spoke to Mom on PAD-2, which was one day ago. No confusion about this Friday or next Friday, yesterday or last Tuesday. My new system is very clean.” My pride is showing in my voice.
“I get it. Kind of makes sense.” Sofie is on board. Her smile gives me a confidence and warmth I’m not familiar with.
“I’m surprised, Seamus.” Dad does not seem open to my idea. “The calendar is a measurement tool that has been in development for over two thousand years. Leap year is a little bit of a kludge and I can agree to get rid of daylight saving time, but on the whole, the current calendar is a system worth keeping.”
I’m impressed and embarrassed at the same time. He’s right, and he made his point the same way I would have made mine: Concise, accurate and with complete disregard for the other person’s feelings.
“We should mark the day, though.” Grace is trying to help me save face. “I think Seamus is right, last Sunday, October 5, 2014, should be remembered as the day of the apocalypse.”
Nods all around. No new calendar, but we have the first post-apocalyptic holiday recorded.
“Change of plans,” Dad says as he cleans up his empty lunch plate. “Seamus, I need you to look at the connection to the power grid at the gas station. I want you to understand how to connect your power pack or some other generator to get the pumps working. When the power plants eventually stop working, having access to gas will make our lives much easier.”
Is he punishing me for not telling him where I was going? If I were an adult, there would be no punishment. Maybe I should tell him that if he wants us to act like adults he has to treat us like adults even when we screw up.
“Liam, I need you and Grace to start organizing our stuff. Lay things out in the dining room in order of priority. Water, food, sleeping bags, and so on. There are five of us, and I want the food and water to last five days if it has to.” Dad is moving on. I hope that he doesn’t become irrational and leave out my lab to prove a point. That would be ridiculous.
“Sofie, I’m sorry, but I need you to hang out at the gas station with Seamus. I just don’t want any of you split up and left on your own. Maybe you can take notes for Seamus or find a paper atlas.” He’s really rolling now.
This definitely does not feel like punishment. A couple of hours alone with Sofie feels like a dream come true.
“No problem, Paddrick. I’ll help any way I can.” Sofie is not acting like an adult. She is an adult. How is it that she knows how to be an adult? What could I possibly learn in a year that will help me to behave more like an adult? This is the social aspect of life Dad is always talking to me about. I have always found these things immeasurable, un-teachable and utterly frustrating.
“Where are you going, Daddy?” Grace asks. I’ve never been able to tell why she slips into her little-girl mode. I don’t think Dad likes it but he rarely speaks a harsh word to Grace, so he would never say so.
“I’m going to get a new car.” He is smiling from ear to ear. Dad really likes cars. It’s not quite a love thing, but he has this thing about how many different cars he has driven. Some days it seems as if he likes the 8-year old mini van as much as the new Porsche Cayenne.
“What kind?” Liam asks, never hearing a conversation he couldn’t jump in the middle of.
“I’m thinking Cadillac. I want the biggest, fanciest SUV they have. We are going cross-country in style!” Dad is still smiling.
I realize that he is also looking for a tank. The Cadillac SUV is the closest thing to a luxury armored personnel carrier you can get. If we are all going to work and survive as a team, Dad has to stop keeping details from us. He thinks he and Mom are great at the parenting trick of distracting us with the bright shiny aspect of the awful truth. Fact is that Grace and Liam may still fall for it, but I don’t, and I doubt that Sofie does either.
“That’ll be one hell of a battle wagon,” Sofie says, securing her place in the adult camp by swearing and calling Dad out on his real motive.
We talk about cars as we finish our food, then Grace and Sofie clean up the kitchen while I grab my iPad and stylus.
“Seamus, you and Sofie can take the Cayenne to the gas station. Drive carefully, though; there is a lot of power in that car and you are not used to it.” Dad is trying to get things rolling. I can tell he’s worried about getting home before dark. This fear of the darkness has me concerned. I hope his mind isn’t slipping under the stress.
“No problem. We shouldn’t be there long. I’ve spent quite a bit of time studying and modifying our electric panel. I don’t see why theirs would be much different.” I am on the razor edge between confidence and arrogance. I’m 16 and I am about to get into a Porsche Cayenne with a beautiful girl, drive up the street and assess an electric panel. If this isn’t my wheelhouse, I don’t have one.
“Do. Not. Touch. Anything.” Dad has his eyes fixed on me. He articulates and emphasizes each word for effect. For a second I think there is a problem in the house, but then I realize he is referring to the gas station. I’m not really sure what he’s talking about. When it comes to electricity and power, I know what I am doing. He shouldn’t be giving me orders.
“Okay Dad.” Oops, that was to
o dismissive. I hold my breath waiting for the lecture to begin, but it doesn’t. He’s looking at me but says nothing. Maybe he can see in my face that I know I was wrong. This is how he should have been punishing me for years. Lectures are easily forgotten; this feeling of stewing in my wrongness will last.
There is a flurry of action and Dad is out the door. Grace and Liam have an iPad and are making an inventory of essentials. I hope they have it in a spreadsheet so it can be easily reordered if they make a mistake. I’m ready to explain to them the right way to go about their assignment when Sofie puts her arm around me.
“Come on, genius. Let’s go to the gas station.”
Driving has never held much allure for me. But behind the wheel of the Porsche I can see what it is Dad loves about cars. The balance, the power, the control. It is a piece of engineering marvel. If only it didn’t use the antiquated internal combustion engine. Sofie really should take this for a spin. This thought makes me realize how little we know about her. Her family could have been rich or poor. She may have brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. I’ve never spoken to her about these things. Is this what she and Grace have been talking about since they met?
I’m ready to ask her about her family, but we just arrived at the gas station. The fifteen-minute walk is about a four-minute drive. This shouldn’t take long, but maybe I’ll drag it out so I have more time with Sofie.
I guess the front door is the best place to start. For some reason, it surprises me that it is unlocked. I can feel Sofie’s tension as we go through the door and into the small office. Did she sense the fear in me or is there something else that has her on high alert? Suddenly I want to make quick work of this assignment. I have three days in a car to get to know Sofie.
“Where to?” Sofie whispers.
I have no idea where the power comes into the gas station. The quiet engulfs us and there is an uneasiness that permeates the room. I feel exposed and vulnerable. I was hoping to be seen as brave but self-deprecating will have to do.
Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) Page 5