Outage 5: The Change

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  Hopefully they'd never need them.

  Kelsey watched Silas and Katherine. She could only imagine what horrors were replaying in their heads.

  "Do you want to play some cards?" It was the third time she'd asked.

  The children shook their heads.

  Persisting, she asked, "How about Go Fish? Come on, guys."

  Katherine and Silas finally agreed. Silas pierced her with his blue eyes.

  "How do you play?" he asked.

  "I'll show you," Kelsey said, maintaining her smile. "It's pretty easy."

  "I don't think I've played before." Katherine furrowed her brow as she thought about it.

  "It'll be fun."

  Kelsey picked up the deck of cards and began shuffling them. Silas and Katherine watched her. They reminded her of her niece and nephew, who were about their ages. She hadn't seen them in months. Thankfully, they lived in Atlanta, far away from the horrible events that were transpiring.

  "Can I try shuffling?" Katherine asked, holding out her hands.

  "Sure!"

  Kelsey handed the cards to Katherine, watching her split the deck. As nervous as the little girl was, the cards distracted her. Hopefully, the game would distract Kelsey, as well.

  Try as she might, her thoughts were still on the man she'd left behind in the snow.

  She hoped to God that Tom was alive.

  Chapter Eleven

  The neighborhoods looked more and more familiar as Tom, Maria, and Emily traveled through them. Tom recognized several landmarks—a house with a purple star over the front porch, a red station wagon crushed into a telephone pole. They stuck to the roads, following the fire truck's path. His memory from the drive was clearer than his hazy recollection of his walk last night.

  He thanked God for that.

  Although Maria's leg was still bothering her, she hobbled along at a steady pace. Emily traveled without complaint. Tom marveled at how resilient they were. Despite everything they'd been through, they seemed as determined as he was to reach safety.

  What would he tell them when he reached the bunker? Could he escape without revealing his lie? He'd have to make sure they were safe before leaving. That meant the others would have to open the door.

  For all he knew, the people in the bunker already knew what he was.

  He might be shot.

  Looking up at the sky, he bit his lip and thought of Lorena and Jeremy. If he could speak to them, he knew they'd support his decision.

  Sooner or later, we'll be reunited, he thought. One way or the other.

  Comforted by that knowledge, he carried on through the snow, helping Maria and Emily when they encountered a patch of deeper snow, or when they faltered. His companions had provided him with a destination, a distraction. He couldn't imagine surviving the remainder of the storm alone, reflecting on the things he'd done, and the things he might do in the future.

  A gust of wind blew, stinging his nostrils. Inhaling the air, Tom's sense of smell and taste was clearer than he ever remembered. Before the storm, he'd had the occasional bout with allergies. Not today. It was as if the impending moon had given him clarity.

  If only that clarity hadn't come with a curse.

  Rounding a bend, they encountered the end of the road. Another street ran perpendicular to the one they were on. To the left was the route Tom had taken on the fire truck. To the right was a fallen telephone pole, tangled with wires and distribution boxes. Several cars were wedged behind it, as if the owners had given up on getting around.

  "Do you remember any of that?" Maria asked, pointing.

  "I remember the intersection," Tom said, "but not the telephone pole or the cars."

  They scanned the surrounding area, as if someone might turn up and surprise them. The vehicles next to the telephone pole were motionless, frosted, snow-covered. A few were stuck on the lawn, as if they'd tried to drive around and failed. Tom appraised the scene, but saw no movement.

  He turned to the left, intent on continuing when Maria grabbed his arm.

  "Wait!" she hissed, pointing at one of the cars.

  Tom followed her finger. A dark blue sedan hung next to the others, blanketed with snow. It looked like the driver's side window had been recently cleaned. Tom squinted. A word was written in frost.

  "What does that say?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure," Maria replied.

  Tom's pulse raced as he crept toward the car, clutching his gun. It wasn't until he was ten feet away that he read the frost-tipped message.

  "Help."

  The interior of the car was dark, providing no clue of what was inside.

  "Stay where you are," he called over his shoulder to Maria and Emily.

  They froze, their eyes darting between Tom and the car. Danger screamed through Tom's senses. What if the message was a trap? What if someone was trying to distract them? He studied the houses on either side of the road, but saw nothing in the windows.

  He took a measured step forward. At any moment, he expected gunfire to erupt, or someone to leap out at him. He aimed his gun at the car. If it were a trap, he'd be ready for it.

  When he reached the vehicle, Tom paused a few feet from the window. He couldn't see past the frost. He studied the letters of the message, which had dripped and frozen. The car had been run recently.

  Keeping still, gun aimed, he called, "Hello?"

  Receiving no answer, Tom glanced back at Maria and Emily. They watched him with frightful eyes, like a pair of frozen statues.

  Tom reached for the door handle. He expected to find a dead body in the driver's seat, gutted and gouged. What he found inside surprised him. A ghost-white face peered back at him from the driver's seat. A young man.

  Tom aimed his gun.

  "Don't move!" he cried instinctively.

  The young man was clutching a pile of blankets. Tom's surprise overcame his fear when he heard a tiny cry from the man's lap.

  In his arms was a baby.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Are either of you hungry?" Kelsey asked.

  Katherine and Silas shook their heads.

  She beckoned toward the shelves of dry food on the other side of the room while Katherine slid the cards back into the deck. A few hours earlier, they'd eaten a nervous meal. Kelsey hadn't had an appetite, but she'd forced herself to consume the beans and corn that Mike had cooked. She couldn't help but feel concerned about Katherine and Silas's welfare. With their parents likely dead, who would care for them? She needed to make sure they were hydrated and fed.

  "You didn't eat much earlier," she told them. "If you get hungry, you need to tell us, okay?"

  The kids nodded. She'd only known them for a day, but she already felt a bond with them.

  She thought of the hospital where she'd met them. In her mind, her place of employment had become a ravaged, vile place, filled with creatures and remnants of her coworkers. Recalling Tabatha and Sigrid, she bit back her emotion. She hadn't known them long, but they were good people that hadn't deserved to die. Neither had Abraham or Sally.

  Or Tom.

  The bunker settled into nervous silence. Other than the occasional crackle of the radio, they might as well have been at a funeral. Their conversations about lasting the night and finding help had been exhausted hours ago. A few games of Go Fish had provided a temporary distraction, but nothing more. Mike fiddled with the radio settings while Flannery cleaned his gun.

  She thought of her apartment on the west side of town. A few weeks ago, Kelsey had rented the place through an ad in the paper. Her belongings were still in boxes; she hadn't had the chance to unpack. In fact, she'd only been in Connecticut for the amount of time it took her to find an apartment and a nursing job.

  At least I don't have to worry about my family. They're still in Kentucky, far away from what's happening.

  She'd fly out and see them, as soon as she got the chance. Hell, maybe she'd even move back.

  She couldn't face another storm.

  Not after this
.

  "Kelsey?" Silas asked, clinging to her shirtsleeve.

  "Yes?" She stared into the little boy's eyes.

  "I'm thirsty," Silas admitted, a guilty look on his face.

  She patted his arm. "Don't worry about it." To Mike, she asked, "Would you be able to get Silas a drink?"

  "Sure," Mike said, setting down the radio while he retrieved some water. "I'll get some for all of us. We might as well stay hydrated. We're going to be in here a while."

  Kelsey opened a bottle for Silas, who took it appreciatively. She watched as he gulped it down. "Don't ever be afraid to ask. Okay?"

  He nodded and smiled as silence spread across the bunker. The survivors looked at each other with grim smiles, watching Silas drink. When he was finished, he turned the bottle in his hands, fidgeting.

  The crackle of the radio made them jump. They stared across the room at the device, which Mike had set on the table. A voice echoed off the bunker walls.

  "This is Sgt. Greenwood. Is anyone there?"

  Mike and Officer Flannery sprang for the radio. Getting to it first, Mike grabbed it with shaking hands. Catching his breath, he answered, "Yes. We're here. This is Mike Tancredi from the Plainfield Fire Department. Can you hear me?"

  Silence returned over the room. Mike exchanged a glance with Officer Flannery, as if he might've mistaken the voice. But he hadn't. Kelsey had heard it. The hopeful expressions on Katherine and Silas's faces showed they'd heard it, too.

  "Hello?" Mike repeated. "This is Mike Tancredi with the Plainfield Fire Department. I'm with several other survivors and a police officer."

  The radio was so silent that for a moment, Kelsey thought it was broken. Mike stared at it with a furrowed brow. Hope turned to frustration as he repeatedly tried to establish contact with the person. No one responded. He handed the radio to Officer Flannery, who tried without success.

  "That had to be the army," Flannery stated adamantly. "It's been a few days. They would've mobilized by now. Help has to be nearby."

  Despite his optimism, Kelsey heard doubt in his voice.

  "Let me try again," Mike said, taking the radio back. He tried a few more times, giving the address where they'd parked, the information about the bunker, and the people he was with. When he was finished, he sat back and looked at the radio, as if it might come to life.

  It remained hopelessly silent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tom stared at the baby in the man's arms as if it might be an illusion. But it was real. The baby's cry and its kicking legs were proof that it was alive. The man held it close, shielding it from the bitter wind. His head was covered in a wool hat, his face flecked with the beginning of a beard. He looked to be in his early twenties.

  "We ran out of gas," the young man explained. "I've been trying to keep her warm, but the car stalled."

  "Jesus." Tom looked around the neighborhood, still not convinced it wasn't a trap, but saw nothing other than Maria and Emily's startled faces. "Come on over!" he called.

  They crunched snow as they made their way to the car, joining Tom in sizing up the man and baby. The baby ceased screaming, startled by the newcomers.

  "Is she hurt?" Maria asked, her face scrunched up with concern.

  "I don't think so. She's just cold," the man replied.

  "What's your name?" Tom asked.

  "I'm Joseph," the man replied. Looking at the baby, he said, "I'm not sure what hers is."

  "She's not yours?" Tom asked.

  "I found her in a house a few blocks away," Joseph said, beckoning over his shoulder. "Her parents were dead. I heard her crying. I've been trying to keep her fed and warm ever since."

  "My God…" Maria whispered.

  Joseph bit his lip. "I've never even held a baby until today. I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted. "I was hoping someone would come. I was hoping for help." He cocked his head at the message on the window. "That's why I wrote that, hoping someone would see it. And then you came."

  "Jesus," Tom said again. "I can't believe the baby survived."

  Joseph said, "Those things must've left her alone. Either that, or they missed her."

  Tom blew a breath. "Whatever the reason, we need to make sure she's warm and fed. How long's it been since she last ate?"

  "I found some formula in the cabinets of the house I found her in," Joseph said. "I gave some to her a while ago. I wasn't sure how long I should wait."

  He patted his coat pockets, which were bulging with bottles. On the seat next to him was a bag with the initials 'LCA' embroidered on it.

  "What's in the bag?" Tom asked.

  "I don't know," Joseph admitted. "I grabbed everything I could. My main goal was to get her out of there, to try and find help. If we stayed and those things came again…"

  Sensing his distress, the baby started crying again. The sound drifted from the car and into the open, prompting Tom to look around the ruined neighborhood for danger. Everything looked clear. But for how long?

  "Have you seen the police? Anyone who can help us?" Joseph asked. His crestfallen face showed he already knew the answer.

  "No," Tom said. "At least, not in a while. It's a long story, as I imagine they all are, by now."

  Joseph nodded without argument.

  "Have you been bitten?" Tom asked.

  Joseph shook his head. "I had a few close calls, but they didn't get me."

  Recalling the animal recognition he'd had when he was close to Ranger, Tom was relieved to find he didn't feel it now. He looked the young man up and down, but Joseph gave him no cause for suspicion.

  Gauging his reaction, Tom said, "We have a place we can go."

  "You do?" Joseph seemed relieved.

  "We should be safe there until the storm passes. Until those things are gone."

  Joseph blew a breath. The baby's crying grew louder as he tried to console her. "Thank God."

  "When did you feed her last?" Maria asked.

  "Maybe an hour ago?" Joseph looked at the baby bag, as if it might provide the answer. "I'm not sure how often she needs it. I assumed she was just cold."

  "She could be hungry. Or she needs to be changed. She'll let us know pretty quickly, once we give her a bottle." Maria motioned to the backseat. "I'll take her, if you want. I can help feed her. We should probably shut the car doors."

  "We'll have to leave right after," Tom warned.

  "O-okay," Joseph said, the relief evident in his voice. "I'll shut the door until you get inside." His arm shook as he reached out and closed it.

  Before working her way around the vehicle, Maria sidled up next to Tom. "Does he seem trustworthy?" she whispered in his ear.

  "I think so," Tom said. "As best as I can tell. We'll keep an eye on him, but he seems honest."

  Maria nodded before proceeding to the passenger's side of the vehicle.

  Tom listened to muffled conversation in the car as he kept watch, Emily next to him. Several times, he cracked open the car door to check on the occupants. He was relieved to find the baby on Maria's lap, greedily sucking down one of the bottles Joseph had brought. The image brought Tom back to when he'd had an infant of his own.

  How long has it been, Tom? Twenty years?

  The beginning years with Jeremy had been some of the best of Tom's life. He recalled watching his son crawl, then walk, then read. Each moment was as nostalgic as the next. He missed Jeremy every day.

  Joseph watched the scene with apparent relief. Feeling at ease, Tom told Emily, "Why don't you get inside for a few minutes? Get a little warmer?"

  "Okay."

  Emily got inside, peering over the backseat, cooing at the baby. A noticeable calm had settled over the group. The scene was a direct contrast to the bloodshed that waited outside.

  If only things could remain this way forever…

  The prospect of leaving scared Tom more than ever. He knew it wasn't safe to stay, but the thought of bringing a baby on a cold, uncertain journey made him even more nervous than before.


  "How far is the bunker?" Joseph asked, looking over at Tom.

  "Only a few streets away. At least, I think it is."

  "We should be there soon, then," Joseph said.

  "Distances are deceiving in the deep snow," Tom warned. "It takes much longer to travel. And Maria has a sprained ankle."

  "She told me," Joseph said with a sigh. "It sounds like you've been through a lot."

  "We have," Tom said. "I'm sure you have stories of your own."

  "Of course," Joseph said. "I assume I should tell you on the way?"

  "That's probably a good idea."

  While they'd been chatting, the baby had drained the bottle. She looked up with wide eyes, her curious expression filling Tom with dread and hope.

  "Ready?" Tom asked the baby.

  She cocked her head happily in response.

  "Do you think she'll be warm enough?" Maria asked, her brow furrowed with a mother's concern. She tucked the blanket around the baby's body, wrapping her snug.

  "Hopefully we won't be much longer," Tom said.

  Cradling the baby, Maria said, "I wish we could stay here and hide somehow. The idea of traveling with an infant…she can't be more than six months old, Tom."

  "I wish we had a choice," Tom said gravely. "But there's a nurse in the bunker. If we can get her there, she'll be checked out. She'll be taken care of."

  Maria kept the baby calm and warm while Joseph returned the bottle to the baby's bag. Once they were packed, they opened the door and stepped into the cold.

  "It's been so long since I've held a baby," Maria said as she cradled the infant. Memories sparkled in her eyes. "It all comes back to you. Doesn't it?" She smiled and stroked the baby's face, eliciting a happy coo.

  "Yep," Tom agreed.

  "What do you think her name is?" Maria asked Joseph.

  Joseph pointed at the bag with the letters 'LCA' monogrammed on it. "I'm not sure. But these are her initials."