Zap!

by Martha Freeman

  The picture switched to an interview with Mayor Manuel. He was a small and energetic-looking Latino with gray buzz-cut hair. In contrast to Mrs. Girardo, he spoke softly.

  “It’s not my intention to discourage free speech,” he said, “but as a practical matter, law enforcement and indeed all the municipal authorities are overstretched and overtaxed in the ongoing emergency. We just don’t have the bandwidth to handle anything more. I wish Mrs. Girardo and her supporters would respect that. It’s in everyone’s best interest to stay off the streets and stay safe. That’s not to say we don’t understand the public’s frustration, and we’re cooperating one hundred percent with New Jersey Light, doing our part to bring back power to the affected area.”

  The next face was Mrs. Girardo’s: “Of course I hope my supporters will protest peacefully and obey police,” she said. “At the same time, the police and the current mayor need to recognize the very real frustrations of the people on day two of this historic blackout. If the people’s response is heated, if it is passionate, who can blame them?”

  After that it was time for the forecast: “Temperatures are expected to dip down into the twenties tonight, bad news for residents of the blacked-out area,” the woman said. “For the elderly and young children, cold temperatures can be deadly. The Red Cross will have shelters with hot food and heat available. . . .”

  Luis shook his head. A rally for angry people and freezing-cold temperatures? This thing was getting worse and worse. The thought made him want to keep his friends close.

  Also, Carlos most definitely was not in charge.

  “Okay, you can come if you want,” he told Maura.

  Maura did not seem surprised that he had changed his mind. “Good. First, though, we’re going to go see Beth.”

  “Wait, what?” said Luis. “Your sister, Beth?”

  “She’s the only Beth I know,” Maura said.

  “But where is she?” Luis asked.

  “I told you,” Maura said. “City hall? She’s interning for the PD? Her boss is a sergeant named Anna.”

  “Will there be more stairs?” Luis wanted to know.

  “You’re worse than Carlos,” Maura said.

  “Why do you want to see her?” Luis asked.

  “Because my grandfather knows something about what’s going on,” Maura said. “And we’re the only ones who know that. I don’t get how it fits together, but maybe the police should know.”

  Luis took a breath. So Maura agreed with him about this. That was a good thing. “Okay,” he said, “but your mom—”

  “I am not my mom,” Maura said. “And I think it’s important we tell somebody what Grandpa said. Maybe it will help the power company figure out what went wrong and bring the power back. If we don’t tell, it’s, like, our fault if the blackout goes on and on and more people get hurt.”

  “The police won’t listen to us,” Luis said.

  “Sure they will. Why not?” Maura asked.

  “Because we’re kids, and no one listens to kids,” Luis said. “No one listens to me, anyway.”

  “They’ll listen to me,” said Maura.

  Outside, the sky was still clear, but there was a damp chill in the air. Luis and Maura unlocked their bicycles, rode away from the hospital entrance, and turned left onto the street. Two blocks away, city hall was a gray box with floor-to-ceiling glass on the ground floor. Four police officers stood outside, and there were half a dozen more in the lobby to stop anyone who came in and ask them about their business. Luis hung back while Maura told an officer that she and Luis were going to see her sister.

  He wondered how they would’ve treated him if he were by himself, a Latino kid trying to get into this big building. It was strange to be with somebody who felt confident the cops were on her side.

  Sure enough, the officer nodded. Then Maura turned to Luis and grinned. “No stairs this time. Officer Jenkins says the police have moved to the mayor’s office on the first floor till the blackout’s over. There’s power there. It’s this way.”

  The office was easy to find because light from inside streamed out the door, which had been propped open. Inside was a waiting area with chairs, every one of them occupied by a person who was either frowning or asleep. A few had magazines or papers in their laps, but no one was reading.

  The police officers and staff behind the counter looked equally unhappy but more purposeful. They were bent over desks or bunched around the few working computer screens. Some were talking on the phone, voices low but intense.

  Luis thought about his parents’ jobs—how hard on the body they were. These people, in contrast, looked at computer screens and sat in chairs and moved paper around. It was a lot more comfortable than construction in the hot sun or cold rain, a lot more comfortable than the blood, knives, and refrigeration of packing meat—but his father could see the building when it was done, and his mother knew she had helped provide somebody’s dinner.

  “Do you know Beth Brown?” Maura was explaining their mission to the woman behind the counter.

  “She works with Sergeant Nedza? Hold on and I’ll try to find her. Family emergency?”

  “Yes,” said Maura.

  The woman disappeared into another room. Standing beside her, Luis reached for his phone for the hundredth time, then remembered. Maura rolled her eyes.

  “So how come you’re so used to not having a phone already?” Luis asked her. “How come you’re such a morally superior person?”

  “It’s not moral superiority. It’s discipline,” said Maura.

  “I got discipline,” Luis said. “I do a hundred push-ups every morning . . . if I remember.”

  “How about this morning?” Maura asked him.

  “This morning there’s a power blackout in case you haven’t noticed,” said Luis. “It was not a normal morning.”

  “You need light to do push-ups?” Maura asked.

  “I wouldn’t want to bump my nose,” Luis said.

  The woman came back.

  “She’ll be right—,” the woman started to say, but before she could finish, Maura’s sister came through a doorway at the back of the room. Luis hadn’t seen her since before she went to college. Wearing a dress and nice shoes, Beth almost looked like a grown-up herself. She was frowning, anxious.

  “How’s Grandpa?” Beth asked from halfway across the room, and everyone turned to look at her. “Is Mom okay?”

  Maura didn’t answer till Beth reached the counter. “He’s out of the ICU. Mom’s okay, just worried.”

  “Oh, good.” Beth breathed again and cocked her head. “I’m so busy here, and it’s not easy to check in. Hey, Luis.”

  “Hey, Beth.”

  “Can we talk to you in, uh . . . private?” Maura asked, and Luis wondered if she had heard that phrase on a TV show.

  “Ha—there’s not a lot of ‘private’ around,” Beth said. “But come on back to the desk I’m using. Nobody’s got time to pay attention.”

  Maura and Luis went around the counter, then followed Beth through two doorways, each of which led to a maze of cubicles. At last she came to her own desk, on which sat a dark computer monitor and many piles of paper. Surrounding them was a hum of voices.

  Beth dropped into the chair and faced her sister. “Okay, shoot.”

  “Grandpa knows something about the blackout, how it started, I mean,” Maura said.

  Beth ducked her chin and raised her eyebrows. Keep talking.

  Maura told her about 742 and zap and the mysterious text. “Plus, remember how he went out and bought all that emergency stuff a couple of weeks ago? Pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “What does Mom say?” Beth asked.

  “Mom doesn’t want to believe it,” Maura said.

  “Do you?” said Beth.

  “Of course not, but come on. It’s too weird.”

  Beth took a breath. “It’s weird all right, but it could still be a coincidence. Anyway, I don’t know what we can do about it. He’s not w
ell enough to answer our questions or NJL’s either.”

  “Can’t the police investigate?” Maura said. “You know, look at his cell phone to see who he’s been calling. Confiscate his computer . . . find out who sent that text and talk to them . . . I dunno—police stuff.”

  “Beth?” A compact, athletic-looking woman looked over the cubicle wall. “Oh, hi—you’ve got to be Beth’s sister. Maura, right? I’m Anna. Good to meet you—who’s your friend?”

  Maura introduced Luis, and that was the end of chitchat. “I need Beth back now, okay?” Anna said. “I guess it’s obvious we’re pretty busy. Come say hi when we’re back to normal. We’re giving Beth a trial by fire.”

  “It is kind of exciting,” Beth said.

  “Good woman,” said Anna. “And besides, it could be worse. Nobody’s bleeding in the street for now. Up and at ’em, Beth. Julia Girardo, in her infinite wisdom, is holding a rally in the square later this afternoon. We’ve gotta deploy our people now.”

  This was Beth’s chance to tell her boss that the kids had an idea about the blackout. It might be worthless, or it might not be. Beth could do that, or she could disregard her little sister and get back to work.

  “Guys, I’ll see you later,” Beth said. “And I’ll think about what you told me, pass it on if I have a chance. Okay?”

  Maura tried to argue. “But, Beth . . .”

  Anna had already walked away. Beth was on her feet. “Gotta go,” she said, and followed.

  Luis and Maura didn’t say a word until they were outside. The temperature had dropped some more, and clouds covered the sun. It was too early in the season to snow, wasn’t it? That would be all the city needed.

  “Okay.” Maura put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Let me have it, Luis. You were totally right. I never should’ve thought anybody’d listen to kids—not even my own sister.”

  Luis had looked forward to saying “I told you so.” Now there was no point. “Maybe it’s good that we’re on our own.” He tried to sound optimistic even though he didn’t feel it. “Hey—what’s going on over there?”

  A few people had gathered in the square across from city hall. Some carried signs—JULIA HAS ALL THE ANSWERS, TAKE BACK OUR CITY, WE WANT POWER!

  “It must be the rally Beth’s boss was talking about,” Maura said.

  Something about the scene made Luis think of Mrs. Brown explaining a generator. The people waiting around are like electrons in a wire, he thought. They’re waiting for something to get them going—turn them into current. I wonder what will happen when it does. Then he remembered seeing the guy throw the rock on TV. Suddenly it seemed even more important to do something, but Maura was feeling defeated.

  “How are we supposed to do anything?” she asked. “We don’t have computers or big trucks or cranes. We don’t have money. We don’t even have a screwdriver.”

  “Yeah, we do,” said Luis, “if I can find the toolbox in our basement, I mean. And we have something else, too—at least we do if we can find him. We have Computer Genius.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fifteen minutes later Maura and Luis walked into Señora Álvaro’s bodega to meet Carlos. The store no longer smelled either like vomit or like humans, either. Now it smelled like vinegar. Shoppers had purchased everything, right down to the last roll of waxed paper. Humming as she worked, Señora Álvaro was spraying the bare shelves with vinegar water and wiping them down.

  Carlos, meanwhile, was mopping. He was not humming, and when he saw his friends he grinned like a jailed man set free.

  “Oh, jeez, I thought you’d never get here,” he said. “Gotta go, Señora Álvaro. Thanks a lot for uh . . . letting me work for you.” He almost dropped the mop in his haste.

  “When the floor’s done, I’ll pay you,” Señora Álvaro said. Then she looked at Luis. “Dígame, how was Computer Genius yesterday when you saw him? With everything else, I forgot even to ask. Is he okay? Did he drink the chocolate milk?”

  Luis should’ve been ready for the question, but he wasn’t. “Uh, that is, I dunno exactly. How long does chocolate milk last anyway?”

  Señora Álvaro scowled. “Didn’t you find him when I told you?”

  “We’ll go find him now,” Maura said. “While Carlos finishes mopping.”

  “Great idea.” Luis was halfway out the door.

  “Take him something to eat!” Señora Álvaro told them. “That boy does not take care of himself.”

  • • •

  In Luis’s neighborhood there were something like thirty abandoned houses. Big factories had moved out of Hampton years ago. Jobs went with them, people moved, and the price of houses fell. The ones that had been abandoned were the ones worth less than fixing them up would cost. Luis could remember when people had lived in some of them. Others had been empty his whole life. By now most of the houses had so much damage inside—collapsed walls, gaping holes in the floor, caved-in roofs—that even Computer Genius snubbed them.

  The ones in better shape had been claimed by gangs for buying and selling, or for meeting their girlfriends. Computer Genius was clueless about a lot of things but not about gangs. Migrating from house to house, he made deals with them and carved out territory, whatever it took to survive.

  Now that he wasn’t in a hurry to get to school, Luis was confident he’d find the genius. He didn’t expect any help from Maura, but it was Maura who stopped and pointed. “I say that one.”

  Unlike most of the houses on the block, the one she’d selected still had address numbers stuck to the siding—316, which would make it 316 Larch. There was an ancient, sturdy tree in front. The top branches reached for the roof as if they wanted to give it a hug.

  “What do you mean? You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luis said. “You’ve never even hunted Computer Genius before.”

  “There’s such a thing as beginner’s luck,” said Maura. “See that Arby’s wrapper in the puddle there? He likes Arby’s, you told me. And a blanket’s hung up to block that busted-window up there.”

  “It’s too empty-looking,” said Luis. “I’m not getting the vibe. Let’s see if Carlos is done mopping. He’s pretty good at this.”

  Back at the bodega, Señora Álvaro was taping another sign to the door: CLOSED/CERRADO UNTIL THE LIGHTS COME BACK.

  “¿Tuviste suerte? Any luck?” she asked.

  “Not yet, but Carlos will find him, right, Carlos?” Luis said.

  “Right,” Carlos said. “Uh, Señora, can I have my hourly now? My pay, I mean?”

  Beneath the cash register on the counter was a drawer. Señora Álvaro opened it, reached in, and pulled out a package of gummi worms. “I keep these for Luis,” she said. “Today he does not deserve them.”

  If Carlos was disappointed to have candy instead of cash, he didn’t show it. “More for me,” he said. “Gracias.”

  Luis tried not to be annoyed—even though he was thinking it was lucky for Señora Álvaro he had stopped by the night before. Meanwhile, she was talking: “My daughter, Rosa, and I are going to stay with my sister in Gloucester. It’s better than a shelter and not so cold as here.”

  “Does she know you’re coming?” Maura asked.

  “Rosa’s phone is still charged, believe it or not. My sister was very glad to hear from us. From TV, she thought in Hampton corre la sangre en las calles—blood in the streets—but I told her only broken glass. Luis, you have something of mine. Can you keep it a little longer?”

  “Sure, Señora, no problem,” Luis said. “Quizás you pay me in gummi worms too?”

  “Quizás—perhaps,” Señora Álvaro repeated. “Ahora go find the genius.”

  They all said adiós and buena suerte after that. The three kids were barely out the door when Carlos asked Luis what he was keeping for the señora.

  Luis was tempted to tell him. Being trusted with all that money made him feel important. He wouldn’t mind if other people thought he was important too. But he didn’t tell. If he told Carlos, he
might as well put the video up on YouTube.

  “Nada,” Luis said. “Nothing. Let’s go find Computer Genius. Look what I brought.” Luis opened his backpack and pulled out the heavy-duty flashlights.

  “Let there be luz!” Carlos said. “But, uh . . . what’s she doing here?” He nodded at Maura.

  “Coming with you,” Maura announced. “I’ve already found where the genius is staying too. Follow me.”

  “She’s persistent,” said Luis.

  “It’s fine with me if you come,” Carlos told Maura. “Sometimes when we need to carry a stone-cold dead body out of a house, it’s good to have help.”

  “Give it up, Carlos. You can’t gross me out,” Maura said.

  Soon they were back at 316 Larch.

  “What do you think?” Luis asked Carlos.

  “Arby’s, check.” Carlos nodded. “And the window too. Por supuesto puedes probarlo—give it a try.”

  “How do we get in?” Maura asked. “Climb the tree? There’s not even a knob on the door.”

  Luis glanced right and left down the street, then turned on his flashlight. “Watch the master.”

  Two steps to the stoop, and he was at the door. He put his shoulder to it, leaned forward, and shoved hard.

  The door gave no resistance, and he all but tumbled inside.

  “Oh.” Maura nodded. “Like that.”

  “Exactamente,” Carlos said. “You go next . . . unless by now you’re afraid?”

  “Not me.” Maura turned on her flashlight and followed Luis. A moment later all three of them stood in what had been a living room, only now there were two old tires where chairs should have been, a pile of swollen black garbage bags in the corner, and an upside-down sofa spilling its stuffing.

  “Be careful where you step,” Luis said. Maura aimed her light at the floor and saw broken bottles, pulled-up floorboards, and oozing speckled spots of dampness. With the windows boarded up, the air felt thick and smelled like rotting vegetables and something else—animals?