“You’d have to ask the incumbent mayor about that,” Uncle Nate said. “I’m sure he’s got it all under control—not.”
“What worries me,” the nurse said, “is the hospital generator. It’s designed for ninety-six hours—four days—and this is day two. After that, who knows? We’ll have to move patients, and some of them may not make it.”
Uncle Nate stood up. “Emily, I need to get back to work. If you want a ride home, I’ll be happy to oblige, but we need to leave now.”
“I’ll see you later, Mom,” Maura said. “Luis and I have some stuff to do—”
“Oh no.” Mrs. Brown shook her head. “With all the crazies out there tonight? I want you safe at home.”
Maura looked crushed, and Luis felt crushed too. Not that he needed Maura’s help. He could handle whatever came next on his own. Still, it had been good to have a sidekick.
“Do you need a ride, Luis?” Mrs. Brown asked. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry either.”
“To tell you the honest truth, I’m not sure I’ve got time—,” Uncle Nate began.
“I’m totally fine,” Luis said. “Honest.”
“See you tomorrow,” Maura told him. “Promise?”
“Promise,” said Luis.
Mrs. Brown stepped toward the bed. “Dad, you have to stay here overnight. I hope you can come home tomorrow.”
Mr. O’Hara didn’t respond. He seemed to be staring at the blank TV, which hung from a bracket on the wall.
“Dad?” Mrs. Brown said.
“Okay,” said Mr. O’Hara. “Bye-bye. Bye-bye, Nate.”
“Oh!” Uncle Nate looked surprised. “I didn’t think the old guy knew who I was. Bye-bye, Pops. You take care now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Luis had a bad feeling about his sense of smell. He might be losing it. Otherwise, how to explain that walking into 316 Larch didn’t seem so bad anymore?
“Genius?” he called. There was no answer, but that didn’t mean anything. He turned on his flashlight and picked his way among the obstacles to cross the front room. An idea popped into his head. What would it be like to live here? Could you get the water working again? Clean it up? Paint? Bring in a generator? Bring in a refrigerator?
This would be after the new civilization rose up, the one based on the flea market by the ballpark.
Luis heard a grunt from upstairs, Computer Genius saying hello.
“Rise and shine!” he called, imagining Computer Genius still beneath the blankets. “Are you decent?”
This was something his father said to his mother sometimes. It meant: do you have clothes on?
“I have always thought so,” came the answer. “There may be those who disagree.”
By now Luis had learned that the sturdiest place to be on the stairs was on the outside, away from the wall. Keeping this in mind, he was able to move quickly. Midway to the top, he saw a glow coming from Computer Genius’s room. Was it the laptop? It looked too bright . . . and it was.
When Luis entered, he was surprised. The genius was sitting cross-legged on a stack of folded blankets, head bent over a book in his lap. The genius looked different, better. He was wide-awake and well lit by half a dozen flashlights and one lantern. This was wasting precious battery power, but Luis didn’t say anything. Something else was different too, a new smell—baby wipes.
When Computer Genius looked up, his face was clean. “What information do you bring?” he asked.
“I don’t know if it will help,” Luis said.
“Of course you don’t,” Computer Genius said.
“Mr. O’Hara was in charge of putting smart meters all over Hampton,” Luis told him. “Could the blackout have something to do with that?”
Computer Genius nodded. “Possible, possible. What’s a smart meter?”
Luis’s heart sank. “Wait. You don’t know?”
“Do you know?” Computer Genius asked.
“I do now,” Luis said. “Mrs. Brown explained.”
“But you only found out today,” Computer Genius said. “So why would I know?”
Luis snorted. “Because you’re Computer Genius! You’re supposed to know everything.”
“I didn’t know about that Greek horse,” Computer Genius said.
“That’s just a story,” Luis said.
“Some stories are important,” Computer Genius said. “So tell the one about the smart meters.”
Luis explained it the way Mrs. Brown had. Computer Genius caught on at once.
“Entirely possible,” he muttered, more to his laptop than to Luis. “But I need more information. What kind of smart meters is NJL using?”
“The brand you mean?” Luis asked.
“And the model number,” Computer Genius said.
“I don’t know. How would I know?”
Computer Genius blinked but said nothing.
“I could go home and look at the one in our basement?”
Computer Genius blinked again.
“Or maybe there’s one around this place somewhere.”
Computer Genius shook his head. “Long gone for sure.”
Luis was not happy. He remembered seeing the meter in the basement once. Where it was exactly, that was another question. “But why do you need to know the brand?”
“Bring back the information and I’ll tell you. Oh, and one more thing. I need more money. Another two hundred will do.”
“Genius! You know this is for the good of all of us—the whole town! It’s like a public service you’re doing!”
“If it’s for the good of all, then all should pay,” the genius said. “But what I’ve got is you, Luis. So you will have to pay.”
Luis shook his head. Talking to the genius was like trying to hold on to water. Just when you thought you were getting a grip, it all drained away.
“All right,” Luis said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
• • •
The short bike ride home was quiet, dark, and eerie. Try as he might, Luis could not keep his heart from pounding anytime he saw a shadow coming out of nowhere. I am being ridiculous, he told himself. This quiet is just quiet. There are no ghosts. Everybody has left town—the neighborhood is deserted.
What about his parents? he wondered. Had they left too? Maybe some out-of-town tíos had come to fetch them. They would have had no way to let him know. He might get home and find nothing but a note.
“Mamá? Papá?” he called as he wheeled his bike into the cold, silent house.
“¡Aquí!” He heard footsteps, then felt rather than saw his mother come into the room. “Where have you been, Luis? We thought we were going to have to leave without you.”
“Leave to where?” Luis asked.
“Wilmington,” she said. “To stay with Tío Pepe. They have power there and gas in their car. We will come back as soon as this is over. There will be no work till then. I don’t know what we will do for money. Your father is packing. You go pack too. Tío Pepe will be here soon.”
“I’m not going,” Luis said.
“No comiences, Luis—don’t start with me. ¡Tú siempre molestas! You are always a pain! You can’t stay home by yourself.” Shaking her finger, his mother came toward him. When she got close, her eyes widened. “Did something happen to your face, Luis? Let me see!”
Luis stepped back. “I’m fine. Little bike accident is all.”
“Were you wearing your helmet?”
“Sí, Mamá. Todo el tiempo. Ow—don’t touch. There are bruises, but I’m fine.”
His mom tried to get a better look, but Luis moved into the shadows. “I stay home by myself a lot. This won’t be any different,” he said. “Anyway, Reynaldo will be around, right? I have blankets and a flashlight, see?” He turned it on and aimed it in the direction of his mother’s voice.
“Ay—get that out of my eyes! You’re blinding me! Where did you get that? Did you steal it?”
Luis reaimed the beam at his mother’s feet. The shadow
s of her calves made ink-black pillars on the wall. “Did you raise me to steal?” he asked.
“I certainly did not,” said Mamá.
“Maura had extra flashlights, and she gave me one,” he said.
“You are lucky in your friends,” Mamá said. “But why must you stay?”
Because I am going to turn on the lights, Luis thought. Because I can’t leave Señora Álvaro’s box. Then he had an inspiration. “Computer Genius needs me.”
“Computer Genius?” Like everyone else, his mom knew that name.
“He’s living in one of the abandoned houses. Without me, he has no supplies. He’ll freeze if he doesn’t starve first.”
“Are you taking him our food? It’s not like we have extra,” Mamá said.
Luis was out of patience. “I am staying here while you and Papá go to Wilmington,” he said. “Reynaldo’s not going anywhere. He’ll make sure I’m okay—he always does. Besides, it’s smart for someone to stick around our house. You know what happens to abandoned houses.”
“And so you are a big man now defending our house? You are eleven years old, Luis,” she said.
“I am eleven years old,” Luis said, “and I am going to make you proud.”
His mother sputtered something in Spanish—something about their mutual ancestors and the devil. Luis crossed in front of her and went into his own room. Even lit by the jittery beam of the flashlight, his four blue walls and sports posters comforted him. He wished he could hang out here for a while. He wished he had time to think and to rest up.
But he didn’t. Later, when the lights were on and the bad guys—whoever they were—had been put away, then there would be time.
He felt for Señora Álvaro’s box with his toe. It was there, and he bent down and opened it. The stale-lettuce money was still there too. From his parents’ bedroom, he could hear his mother talking to his father. Luis did not want either of them to catch him with the box, so he grabbed two bundles of money, hoping it was enough, and stuffed them in his pocket.
Now to the basement, he thought. The doorway was in the kitchen, opposite the stove. At the top of the stairs, he flipped the light switch. When nothing happened, he cursed himself. Would he never get the hang of this?
Luis’s parents did not keep a neat and tidy basement. What they did most of the time was drop useless or broken items from the top of the stairs and close the door quickly, like something might escape.
Luis made his way carefully down the stairs and then shone his flashlight in every corner of the room, moving it slowly so he didn’t miss anything. He tried not to think about rats, spiders, cockroaches, and millipedes. He tried not to wonder what was growing in the dampness on the floor. The fact that he was used to abandoned houses did not seem to help in his own basement. After what seemed like a very long time, he spotted something protruding from the wall behind a broken chest of drawers full of baby clothes, something gray and made of metal.
Luis shoved a mattress out of the way, then leaned across two old kitchen chairs and trained his flashlight on the device. It was the meter, all right, and on it was a silver medallion: ITREX Model 2653589 MFD Toledo OHIO USA. Luis reached for his phone to take a picture, then remembered it was dead. He read the label twice, closed his eyes and recited it back to himself. There. Got it. At least, he hoped he did.
“Luis?” his mom was calling. “Are you in the basement?”
“Coming up,” Luis said.
Climbing the stairs, Luis repeated the meter information to himself.
“Aquí estoy,” he announced at the top. “And now I have to go.”
His mom argued. “I don’t know you anymore, Luis. You are such a big man. You think you don’t need your parents. You think you are able to take care of yourself without help.”
“Sí, por supuesto—of course.” Luis retrieved his bike by the front door and turned to face his mom. He couldn’t see her clearly. She was just another shadow. “I have to stay here in Hampton, Mamá. It is important. I will explain later. Can you trust me? I will see you after the blackout is over. Espero que sea muy pronto, very soon.”
Someone else might have added, “I love you,” but Luis had not said “I love you” to either of his parents since he was a toddler. It was Reynaldo who said those words—both to Luis and to his parents.
“Trust you?” His mother was sputtering again.
“Hasta luego, Mamá. Be safe.”
• • •
Back on his bike, Luis stood up on the pedals and pumped. He was just getting used to the quiet when the sound of a car’s engine disturbed it, the sound of a car close behind him. Why didn’t he see headlights? Were the headlights turned off? Why would that be?
Luis could think of only one reason. Because someone was following him. And whoever it was did not want Luis to know.
But who would follow him, and why?
Luis got mad at himself for being paranoid, but the sound persisted. It was a good car, too, its motor purring smoothly. In this neighborhood, most of the cars were grumblers.
One more block and Luis thought he saw movement in the lot behind the chain-link fence. To get a better look, he stopped pumping and coasted. Now there was no doubt. A black figure ducked behind the weeds, then reappeared. Meanwhile, the car was still there.
Luis remembered something he’d heard in a movie, something about how it’s not paranoia if somebody really is following you. Well, what if you thought two people were following you—one in a car and one on foot? What kind of paranoia was that?
He pedaled faster. Almost to 316 Larch, he had a thought. What if whoever it was wanted to know where he was going? What if whoever it was wasn’t after Luis at all? Instead he was after Computer Genius? Was Luis leading him exactly where he wanted to go?
There was that backdoor thing the genius had mentioned. Had it given somebody a clue? Led them to Luis? Luis didn’t see how that was possible, but then he didn’t understand computers.
Luis felt like a rabbit pursued by a hunter. It was not a good feeling. Think, he told himself. That is what heroes do—think clearly even when they’re in danger. That is what makes a hero. If you are one, show it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Luis had been in the abandoned house on Erie Street many times and knew it well. Computer Genius had squatted there for a while the winter before. It was an unusual house for the neighborhood because it stood by itself on a corner. Up until somebody decided to burn trash in the kitchen, it had been one of the better houses. Now it was less desirable.
Still, it was a place to hole up for a while. What did he care if it still smelled like smoke?
Luis locked his bike to a no-parking sign and headed for the porch. All the time, he tried to look casual, like a guy in no particular hurry. He didn’t want his watcher to know that he was onto him.
Every abandoned house had its entry procedure. For the house on Erie, you levered a board off the front window—what had been the front window. Luis didn’t happen to be carrying a crowbar, but when he turned on his flashlight he saw an old stick of lumber on the sidewalk. Careful to avoid nails, he grabbed it, shoved an edge under one of the boards, and worked to pry it off.
The stick was brittle and soon snapped. Luis looked around for another one and realized the engine noise was gone. Had the car driven away? Luis didn’t think so. When he didn’t hear a door open, he figured his watcher—his hunter—must still be inside.
There were no more sticks. Could he break down the door? How?
Think, Luis.
He had an idea. He removed his bike helmet, tugged to lengthen the strap, slid a section of it beneath the board on the window, and pulled as hard as he could.
Did the wood give? Maybe.
He tried again and—yes, for sure—the board was coming loose. Two more yanks and—crack—it broke.
Luis reached up, tore the dangling piece away, jumped for the hole it had created, leaned forward, and pushed his head and shoulders through. A moment
later he landed awkwardly on his hands and knees. The floor was filthy, and he scrambled to his feet, his head immediately enveloped by a web of dust and bugs. He wiped his hands on his jeans, sneezed, wiped his nose on his sleeve. Even by the standards of an abandoned house, this one was bad. Luis turned on his flashlight and looked around. Every kid had a story about the worst thing they’d ever found in an abandoned house. Usually it involved the bodily functions of departed residents. Sometimes it was a passed-out resident himself. In fact, the appeal of exploring the houses wasn’t really the chance of finding treasure. It was more the chance of finding something horrible, something worthy of a monster movie, something dramatic.
Now, though, Luis didn’t need additional drama, and it was a relief when his flashlight found only trash and crumbling plaster.
Luis picked his way carefully over to the stairs and began to climb. The windows on the first floor were covered, but the ones on the second floor were not, and Luis aimed his flashlight toward the openings. Provided he was still paying attention, the hunter would see the flashlight up there and think—maybe—that Luis had come to stay for a while.
Now to fake him out some more.
Forgetting the state of his tailbone, Luis found a mostly clean spot on the floor and sat down—ow! He shifted to one side, then the other, trying to get comfortable, all the time ensuring that the beam from his flashlight stayed visible through the window. The cuts on his face hurt, and it was harder even than usual to stay still, hard to be patient. He wanted desperately to get back to Computer Genius. While he waited, he recited the information from the electric meter: ITREX Model 2653589 MFD Toledo OHIO USA.
Luis waited as long as he could stand it, then waited a little longer. He was just making a deal with himself—five more recitations and I can get out of here—when he heard a noise downstairs that made him jump.
What the?!
Luis thought for a split second, then turned off his flashlight. Having it on was like announcing his location. What should he do? Retreat upstairs to the third floor? But if he did, he might get trapped. Would jumping out a third-floor window kill him? Anyway, broken bones would slow him down.
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