SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  An announcer comes on and states that government officials are asking people to take precautions for an extended power outage, while urging them not to panic. He adds that it’s possible the flares will miss Earth completely.

  One reporter in the DC area says that only minor preparations are taking place on The Hill. The president and many congressmen feel that the NOAA is overzealous in their estimated effects of the flares, and they doubt any long-term damage will occur.

  The three of us don’t even pause in our activity. The consensus is that we’d rather be overprepared and laugh at ourselves later, than wake up in two days and find we don’t have anything to eat or drink.

  ◌◌◌

  While we wait for Raul and his father to return, we sort the supplies. There are already so many different items scattered about that I feel like we’re preparing to open our own shopping store.

  Everywhere I look are canned goods and toiletries, bedding and towels, and other odds and ends. Someone has stacked a pile of wood to the right of the front door, and a small table holding a variety of knives, guns and ammunition sits to the left.

  On the opposite wall, in the far back corner, a drape of curtains cordons off a small, private area. “What’s in there?” I ask.

  “That’s for the bathroom,” says Mrs. DeLaPortilla. “Donald Eisenbeis has purchased a portable toilet and requested a secluded area for it. The back door is just inside the curtain, so I thought it might be a good place.”

  I stop walking and just stare at the enclosure. My eyes move slowly up and down as I think. Using the toilet never occurred to me. I’m mortified at the thought of other people being able to hear me relieve myself.

  “Why is it inside?” I ask. “Wouldn’t it be better if it were outside and away from the house?”

  “Pedro and I discussed it and decided that most of us wouldn’t want to walk around outside in the dark at night. We’ll set the trash can for toilet dumping just outside the back door. I know that it may be a little uncomfortable at first, but I think this is safer,” she says. “Donald’s son, Eric, has even come up with an idea to minimize the odor and mess…he’s gathered a large supply of cat litter and deodorizer to line the trash can bag.”

  Awesome. Instead of being seen as a desirable damsel spending the night in a secluded cabin with the love of my life, I’ve been transformed into some type of indoor feline who handles her own poop and buries it beneath a pile of clay.

  ◌◌◌

  Raul and his dad return after a bit and have managed to find some hot dogs and chips for lunch. Mr. DeLaPortilla said they were in such a hurry that he almost forgot the buns. He noticed the gas station still had meat on the grill, so he scooped up a dozen of the sausages and threw them into a bag. The chips were an afterthought.

  A copy of the Harrow Gazette is included with the meal. Mrs. DeLaPortilla and my mom glance over the headlines and discuss several items. Since reports on the flare just surfaced this morning, the four-page leaflet is filled mostly with the usual boring articles on the City Council and its quest for town beautification projects, the library’s spring book fair, and an update on the New Allegiance Church’s latest push for communal living.

  Raul and I have taken a seat across the room and are busy texting with our friends as we eat; Kat and I are blowing up each other’s phones with messages. Mom interrupts my conversation by holding the Gazette in front of my face and blocking the view of my phone. “Do you know this girl?”

  A picture at the bottom of the front page is accompanied by a short article about Maisy Cuthbertson. The Harrow High School sophomore argued with her mother two nights ago and ran off. Maisy’s family is requesting information from anyone who may know the girl’s whereabouts. With all the drama about the flare complications, I’m sure her parents are eager for her to return home.

  “Yes,” I say while casually glancing at the photo. “But we don’t hang out.”

  I push the paper aside to resume texting, and Mom walks away.

  After nudging Raul’s knee with my foot, I whisper, “I wonder where Maisy is; everything’s so crazy right now. It’s not really a good time to run away.”

  Raul looks up and shrugs. “She’ll turn up. She’s probably just sulking over at a friend’s house. I dated her a few months ago, and she’s always acting out for attention.”

  Having had a crush on Raul for a long time, I’m well aware of the past relationships that he’s had. I don’t care to dwell on those things; they’re over now. I prefer to concentrate on a possible future relationship, so I shrug and only slightly grimace.

  “Even so,” I say while motioning with my food, “I hope she goes home soon. Her parents must be really worried.”

  After stuffing his remaining chips into his mouth, Raul crushes the bag and stands. “I’m sure they are,” he says, “but I think we have enough of our own worries right now. We don’t need to add any more.”

  I nod in agreement, and he turns to cross the room for another hot dog. “I guess Mom and I’ll head home now,” I say before getting to my feet. “We still need to stock up on water and pick up a few things. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tub filled? Check. Sinks filled? Check. Trash cans, pots, pans, pitchers, and anything else that can hold water filled? Check, check, check.

  Mom and I are waterlogged now, but it’s a job well-done. I even manage to wash and dry a load of laundry by the time we finish filling every container. I’ve got my priorities, but I figure that if we don’t die tonight, and the electrical power does stop, I’m going to want as many pair of clean underwear as I can find.

  Our suitcases sit in the middle of the living room, and we’re trying to decide which essentials we should take to the barn. In addition to my unmentionables, I’ve packed a few pairs of shorts, several cotton tops, and a pair of blue jeans. Raul’s dad has suggested we bring extra items just in case we have to stay for more than a couple of nights. He’s concerned that things may turn even uglier if there’s a world-wide blackout.

  “I think we should move some of this water outside and away from the house,” I say to Mom. “Eric says there’s a chance of fires starting.”

  “I’ll grab the trash bins,” she says. “You take the large pots outside. It might be a good idea to put some sort of cover over the pots to protect them from any debris.”

  We finish one job and move on to the next. We load up the car with blankets, pillows, suitcases, food and a knickknack or two. Mom grabs a couple of photos, and I grab my favorite stuffed animal. I’m not a baby, but I’ve had Matilda Mouse for as long as I can remember. She’s brought me great comfort over the years, and I’m not about to leave her behind to face the possibility of a fire.

  Along that line of thought, I decide it’s not a bad idea to unplug everything. It might not make a bit of difference, but I’m not an electrician, and I’m not a solar scientist, so I think I’ll err on the side of caution. I go one step further and make sure the pilot light is out on the furnace.

  Mom has been working and organizing for several hours when she pauses abruptly and turns toward me. With hands on her hips and a wrinkle in her brow, she says, “I’m beginning to feel a bit silly Mya. What if all this fuss is for nothing?”

  “Then we load everything up, bring it back here, and eat Spam for the next three weeks…but I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen, Mom. I think we’re about to make a new chapter for future history books. I think that solar flare is bad news…and…I think it’s really important that we take a shower, wash our hair, and use the bathroom before we leave the house this evening.”

  ◌◌◌

  When we arrive at the barn, the Millers are already there. Kat runs out and throws her arms around me.

  “I’ve been so worried about you, Mya. It took you forever to get here, and you weren’t answering any of my texts.”

  I hug her back and crinkle my nose with an apology. “Sorry. I was putting water everywhe
re, and I wanted to take a shower. I forgot to check my phone…Have you been here long?”

  “No, not too long, about an hour or so,” she says while dragging me inside. “We brought in all the stuff from our car and started stacking things all over the place.”

  I look around the large room and see a mess – organized – but still a mess. I’m beginning to have second thoughts myself and wonder if Mom may be right about feeling silly. What if the other parents are just humoring us by going along with our little scheme? Then I remember all the wackos who were at the SuperCenter this morning, and I think we’re doing the right thing.

  Raul sees me arrive, stops sorting cans with Kat’s younger brother, Matthew, and smiles as he saunters over.

  “You certainly took your sweet time, Mya.”

  I glance at him, bat my eyelids, and give a little grin. “Well, I know how much you miss me when I’m not around,” I flirt, “but I can’t be here to hold your hand twenty-four hours a day. I have important things to do…now, please behave and help Kat and me unload the car.” I smile again and look at Matthew. “You too, please.”

  We walk outside to see that Mom and the other parents have already unloaded most of the things from the trunk. The items in the back seat are still waiting, so I open the door. Raul is the first to reach inside the car, and when he turns around, I see Matilda Mouse in his hand. Raul has my treasure in a choke hold and is turning her upside down so that her dress flips up to reveal pink undies and a pink tail.

  “What is this?” he asks, while twisting my mouse back and forth.

  I put my hand out and glare. “This is not a this,” I say, “it’s a who, and her name is Matilda, thank you very much…Please stop strangling her and pass her to me.”

  Raul gives me a thin-lipped smile, and his chin drops. “You brought a stuffed animal with you?”

  I reach out and gently take hold of my possession. “No…don’t be silly, Raul,” I say as if talking to a simpleton. “I did not bring a stuffed animal with me…I brought my childhood memories with me, in the form of Matilda. So, shut it, and let’s move on.”

  I cradle Matilda in my arm and seize my pillow and blanket. Kat grabs Mom’s bedding, and I follow her inside.

  “You handled that very well,” she whispers.

  “Yes, I thought so too,” I say, as I’m cringing internally. That had the potential to become something truly awful. “Glad Eric isn’t here yet.” I look around the room. “Speaking of Eric, where is he? Have you heard from him?”

  “We got a text from him a little bit ago,” she says. “His car is loaded, and his parents are ready; it’s his sister who’s being difficult.”

  Kat and I put the bedding materials down next to her family’s things and turn around to retrieve the remaining items from the car.

  “Apparently,” she continues, “Emily doesn’t want to sleep in a barn. It’s either that, or she doesn’t want to sleep in a barn with a bunch of people she doesn’t know.”

  I stop moving and snicker. “Oh man! Wait until she has to sleep in a barn with a bunch of people she doesn’t know and then use the toilet where everyone can hear and smell her!” I can’t help myself, and I start to giggle. I don’t know if it’s all the tension from the day, or if I’m simply losing my mind; but my giggling increases, and tears start to flood my eyes. I look at Kat and can see that my good humor has spread to her.

  Raul comes over and looks at us. “What’s so funny?”

  I open my mouth to speak, and huge, dumb laughs come out instead. This makes me laugh all the harder, which in turn makes Kat and Raul laugh out loud. I am bending at the waist, barking with laughter, and have tears streaming down my face. When I manage to catch my breath and calm down to a giggle, I stand up straight.

  As I wipe the tears from my eyes, I glance to my left and see that Eric is now standing beside Raul. A pretty young girl with shoulder-length auburn hair and tortoise rimmed glasses is also with them.

  Eric has a questioning smile on his face, and when we make eye contact, he says, “Hey. I just wanted to introduce you all to my sister. This is Emily.”

  I think a tiny bit of my brain bursts right then. I try, I really try, to keep in my roar, but the pressure builds so high that the force blows my lips apart; and as the flood of laughter fills the air, I collapse to my knees.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The radio is still playing in the background, and the report is still the same: the surging energy pulses are maintaining their course and should collide with our atmosphere in several hours. Various scientists are being interviewed, and extensive power outages are predicted.

  Local radio DJ ‘Rod the Rodster,’ interrupts the national broadcast with an urgent request for Maisy Cuthbertson. “Maisy,” he says, “please come home. Your parents and friends are worried about you. If these reports about the damage from the flare are correct, you won’t be able to call home soon. Please pick up a phone and let your parents know that you’re ok, or if you’d rather, you can call me here at the station.”

  Rod provides the studio phone number and then returns to the national broadcasting update.

  Once again, Dr. Niva’s voice echoes around the room. He’s still forecasting a massive collapse of the entire electrical grid due to the electromagnetic pulse that’s produced from a solar storm. Plus, he now says that additional solar activity shows the possibility of two to three more flares headed toward Earth. He says that even though precautions are in place for the main power hubs, he expects the first impact to cause a nearly complete failure that can take years to fully restore. A second or third flare would add additional complications.

  A new voice joins the broadcast and briefly gains my attention. I look toward the radio and listen, as the high, scratchy tone of an older woman interrupts Dr. Niva with other disturbing possibilities.

  “While the magnetic fluctuation is certainly a major concern for everyone, I’d like to point out that there are additional significant issues that the public should note. A super flare has the capability of destroying much of our ozone layer. A depletion of only ten percent could have substantial effect on all life, but with an X-class flare, the ozone depletion could be as high as fifty percent.”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch,” interjects Dr. Niva. “I think we should focus on the immediate need for food and water right now.”

  “If the ozone depletion reaches fifty percent, my friend, there will be very little food or water left on the Earth for people to focus on…furthermore, people won’t be ‘focusing’ on anything because the UV will destroy the outer layer of their eyes, and we’ll all be blind.”

  I pinch my lips together and look toward Eric to see his reaction. His eyebrows are raised, and his eyes are opened wide. He glances my way and shrugs. “Way to spice up our lives, right?”

  ◌◌◌

  I know that what’s happening right now is unfamiliar, and the public is anxious to get information about the upcoming events; but if I were a NASA scientist, and I knew this thing was going to wipe out the power grid for a significant amount of time, I sure wouldn’t be talking on the radio right now. I’d be more concerned with providing for my own family. Maybe I’m a little more like Eric than I thought.

  Rather than a crisis situation, I feel as if I’m at a family gathering or some weird slumber party for people of all ages. The men are grouped just outside the door, talking about Mr. DeLaPortilla’s truck and the past deer hunting season. The women are setting up a table full of food, and we kids are watching funny YouTube videos of people preparing for the end of the world.

  Raul’s mom took the initiative this morning to throw a brisket into the oven. She also made a loaf of sweet bread and cookies. My mom packed our cooler with ice, two gallons of juice and a bunch of raw veggies. The other women had items from their kitchens, and everything is being set out for tonight’s dinner.

  It’s late April, and we’ve had quite a bit of rain recently, so the temperature, inside and outside, is plea
sant. Kat and I are given a couple of old sheets to spread on the floor. We fill a tortilla with brisket, pour a cup of juice, and sit down.

  Even with all the stress of the day, I find that I’m enjoying myself. “I hate to say it, but this is actually pretty fun.”

  “Let’s hope it stays this way, and that we don’t wake up tomorrow to a changed world,” says Kat. “Maybe the flare will just pass by really close, but still miss us.”

  Eric shakes his head before he sits down and takes a bite of his food, “I’m afraid you’re living in a fantasy, Kat.”

  ◌◌◌

  As we eat, we discuss the events of the day and the possibilities of the night. Everyone’s trying to be brave and make light of the tension. I begin by saying how shocked I am at the behavior of the people in the store this morning.

  “I can’t get over all the pushing and shoving. Oh! And the noise! Could you believe all the noise? They all wanted the bottled water. With all the screaming, nobody could understand anybody. I was so glad to get out of there.”

  I turn to Kat and grab her arm. “I saw Patrick Hastings and Miguel Fernandez steal an entire shopping cart full of stuff, right in the SuperCenter parking lot! Then I saw three guys push an old woman. It was total chaos. I can’t imagine how much worse it was later in the afternoon. I’m so glad Eric suggested we get everything right away.”

  Kat nods and says, “As soon as I got in the car, I told Dad about the plan.” Looking at Eric, she continues, “He was really impressed. He said you must be one brilliant kid to have planned out so much in so little time.”

  Eric smiles and looks down at his shoes, but I can see that the compliment makes him feel good.

  “We headed straight to the bank, and the lobby was packed with people,” says Kat. “The line wasn’t moving because a man at the counter was demanding to see the bank manager. The guy wanted to take all of his money out of the bank, but the teller said that he’d have to put in a request. She told him that he could have 500 dollars right then, but that was all she was authorized to hand out.”