Her heart ached anyway. Continuing to walk went against every fiber of responsibility to treat the wounded, as if they were homeless asking for change, her pockets full and denying she had anything to offer. She was lying to those people who cried for help; saying she could not help them, but she could. She looked up one more time and sent a wave of emotion, positive energy and a breath of a prayer, “Dear God, please,” under her breath. Though the words were hardly audible to herself, a boy, clear across the field, looked at her as if she had touched him, spoken to him. She broke the eye contact and continued.
Her emotional switch was stuck between her necessity to act, and her need to emotionally recognize what was happening around her. To subdue the latter, she started a mental list of things to grab from her brother’s supply.
The community of townhomes was silent. From the road, she could see armed men standing at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. She would have to face them, take the risk. She surveyed the buildings. No one else was present, but for the gun-toting neighbors, she guessed them to be since they lacked any identifiable uniform. She wondered who they were guarding against. CDC? Looters? Maybe both. Empty cars blocked the throughways. Besides, trying to sneak in would be a guaranteed warning shot, if they intended to give a warning anyway.
“Do you live here?” one of the three men challenged her.
“My brother, Kevin Burton, does. I’m. . .”
“Valerie?”
“Yes.”
“I’m your brother’s neighbor. Madi and my wife are best friends. I’ve heard plenty about you, though not all of it nice.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Madi and anyone that isn’t a fan of her Easter lasagna.”
The man laughed, nodded, and waved her by.
Valerie picked up the pace until she stood at her brother’s front door, thankful for the commonality with the guard. Now if she could milk this luck a little more and find a more direct way back to Denver.
A homemade pink and green tulle wreath hung crooked on the door. Valerie knocked, knowing no one would answer. She waited a few seconds, then plucked an imitation rock from the mulch bed and accessed the spare key inside.
“Madi. It’s Val.” She set her bag down and shut the door. A wave of relief washed over her when no one answered.
She fell onto the couch and lay there looking up at the ceiling. She relaxed her muscles, gathering herself. Without power, the building was so silent her ears rang. It was hard to focus, but she went down the list of items again: guns, ammo, medical supplies, and anything to offer her father in hopes he would be a little less judgmental of her predicament. A smart offering might soften him up to any harsh treatment from the great disappointment that was her situation.
Five minutes passed, and she felt rested enough for the haul. It did not take much searching to find Kevin’s giant rucksack: a plastic framed backpack that, when full, covered the height and width of her back and stuck out almost a foot and a half. She also found a medical bag with a plethora of pockets and compartments inside. It was a solid brick of a bag when packed, but it was still smaller than the ruck. A hosed hydration system attached neatly to the smaller bag and added a convenient water source.
Valerie opened the kitchen cabinets and pulled out canned food, water filters, soap, and other random items. Her father had taught her everything she needed to know in case something like this happened. What was once Mike’s paranoid preparation was now useful. With the CDC collecting people, she knew how to evade them. Without the use of a vehicle, knew how to hike long distances with heavy packs and live off the land. She hated the grueling training when she was ten, but at this moment, she was thankful.
Her next sweep through the house was to find the hidden weapons she knew her brother had squirreled away. Every year for the last three Christmases, her father gifted Kevin with a new gun hiding device. The first one took the longest to find. An inconspicuous magnet hung from one of the key hooks in the kitchen. She walked around to every air intake vent, tapping the magnet to each until the one right by the garage door released. Inside was a forty-five caliber handgun, corresponding ammunition, keys to the remaining safes, a wad of money, and a signed copy of Kevin’s favorite zombie novel. She emptied the hiding place, including the book, and retrieved the remaining weapons: an AR-15 from a drop-down compartment on a bookshelf displaying more stories from the same horror writer, and a small nine-millimeter gun locked in a box disguised as a book about a witch with a lush-lipped woman wearing a locket. Valerie guessed it was Madi’s.
Taking inventory, she packed what she could carry. Food, water, medical supplies, and ammo were heavy. The design of the bags would distribute the weight from her shoulders to the waistband which made the seventy-five pounds more manageable.
Without power, Valerie did not trust the food in the refrigerator to still be good. She opted for a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and packed two more to go. The walk would only take two to three hours, but she planned to carry both bags, and it had been years since she had been hiking. She guessed it was about three-thirty in the afternoon, and after eating her first meal of the day was nearly ready to step off on the second leg of her journey. But first, she needed to relieve her sister-in-law of clothing more suitable than the over-sized scrubs she had on. A black tank top and grey calf-length yoga pants would have to do.
She placed the nine-millimeter back in the first compartment she had found with a note explaining to Kevin where his stuff went. She set the magnet back on the key hook and turned to the bags she audaciously planned to carry when the front door handle jiggled. Without hesitation, Valerie pulled the forty-five from her leg holster, slammed in a full magazine, charged the weapon, and fired a bullet three inches above the door frame.
“If you don’t live here, you should leave,” Valerie shouted at the closed door. Inhale. Exhale. It was time to go.
Judging by the distance traveled, Valerie had walked an hour. The weight she bore was awkward with the large rucksack on her back, and the smaller, yet substantial medical bag on her front. The AR-15 sat atop the larger bag, strapped down and secure.
She trekked along the railroad running parallel to the highway which was blocked by abandoned vehicles. Though the gravel was uneven, the tracks provided a straighter path. She kept a steady pace and despite the weight, Valerie felt confident she could maintain it the entire distance. A few times she spotted other people walking or riding bikes. Mothers pushed strollers and walked with children in tow carrying backpacks. Many traveled in the direction of the military base, possibly hoping to reunite with their family members on the other side of the guarded gates. Little traffic still moved, using the shoulder or the median to weave in and out between the other motionless vehicles. No one obeyed posted signs or laws. They were just people trying to get where they were going like her. Only they were not like her.
August was like her. How many others were? They could not have been the only people to wake up looking barely out of high school. And why in the world was she so damn distracted by him? Still distracted. The static, the exploding computer, the malfunctioning equipment, maybe even her attraction to August, all pointed to something electric. But how did the electricity transform her physical body? Something connected these details; she just could not figure out what or how. What was the difference between her and the people in the emergency room, or the people still able to drive cars and talk on their cell phones. What happened to cause this?
No doubt her father would have a solid theory on the matter. Though he was retired military, her father did not trust the government and would have avoided the CDC as she had. Kevin, being in the military still, would have no choice but to follow orders if he was affected, too.
A low drone of diesel engines took Valerie from her thoughts as a convoy of blue package trucks traveled north on the highway just next to her. A stalled pickup was her closest cover. She turned off the tracks and walked down the hill to the road. Ducking behind the truck, she wa
ited for them to pass. Valerie counted twenty people in CDC uniforms moving from car to car, pushing them off to the side of the road to clear a path. She wondered how many people they had collected in the ten trucks that inched along the way heading north. Their involvement was another mystery. How had they reacted so quickly? And why were they far more concerned with the affected than the injured? The explanation of quarantine had been vague. They did not even tell parents where they were taking their children. They were only given a phone number to call for more information.
Heat rose in her face. No one could take her son out of her arms as long as she had a fighting breath. The hairs raised on her arms as the thought made her angrier. The radio in the truck she was hiding behind turned on, and a man’s voice was reading the CDC 1-800 number. She nearly screamed, which only raised the volume.
“Stop!” she whispered. It obeyed.
Frozen, she waited before looking back at the northbound lane. No one appeared concerned with her direction. She took a long drink of water and carefully stood up. She would jog the rest of the way.
Valerie set the packs on the porch of her father’s home. He was not expecting her, which made her more conscious of her surroundings. She did not want to be mistaken for an intruder and hoped his security cameras signaled her arrival. She knocked hard on the heavy door and waited a few seconds, listening. Nothing. She walked around to the side of the house and looked through the fence for anything to deter unwelcome guests. As she pulled the latch, the gate to the backyard opened without a problem.
Valerie collected a few pebbles and tossed them down the window wells. She knew her father would not stay on the main level of the house because he had yet to barricade the windows, leaving the first floor less secure than the basement. At the third window, her father pounded on the bulletproof glass to get her attention. Once they made eye contact, he pointed up toward the back door. She climbed the stairs to the back porch and sliding glass doors of the house and waited for him to meet her there. When he did, her father, Mike, yanked her into the house and secured the door behind her. He turned, put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the eye.
“What are you doing here, Val? You’re not supposed to be here.”
Valerie had a sudden wave of mixed emotions. Mike hugged her, squeezing the air from her lungs. The only other time she recalled her father embracing her was her wedding day.
“How did you get here?” he said, pulling her away to look at her again.
“I picked up a shift at the ER by Kevin’s place. I walked. I am just stopping to rest before I walk home.”
Mike gave a “Hmm,” and made his way through the house to the front door. He disengaged seven locks and opened the door. At 6 p.m., the sun had already disappeared behind the mountain, yet there were no lights on—no power at all. Valerie could only make out his silhouette but noticed her father’s limp. He was favoring his left leg over his prosthetic—the result of a wound retiring him from the military years ago.
“You carried these packs yourself?” Mike looked at her in disbelief.
“Is your stump bothering you?” Valerie asked, ignoring his question. She shooed Mike away from the baggage and pulled them into the house herself.
“Just today. My arthritis has always been worse on my right leg, but now I can feel every single piece of shrapnel grinding against my bone. Did you carry these?” He shut the door and reengaged the locks.
“I brought what I thought you could use.”
Mike eyed his petite daughter in disbelief.
“Valerie. I am so sorry. Look at you. It was you this whole time.” He held her face in his hands. “This is my fault. Where is Caleb, Val? Is he with Scott? Gia? Are they safe? I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so wrong.”
“I have no idea,” she said, eyeing her father suspiciously. “I can’t call, my car doesn’t work. Scott’s on a train somewhere between Denver and Wyoming. Gia was able to call my phone at some point, so I guess Caleb is safe. I just. I need to. How am I supposed to get home? And what are you sorry for or wrong about?” Valerie broke down. Expecting her father to get uncomfortable and talk down to her for crying, she left the front foyer and sat at the kitchen table. Mike followed, took Valerie’s hand, pulled her back to her feet and hugged her.
“I am so sorry. I never wanted any of this."
“What are you talking about?” Valerie pulled away from him demanding an answer.
Mike retrieved a lantern off the counter, lit the wick, and motioned for her to follow him to the basement. Valerie picked up the massive bag with the rifle still attached and followed, hoping he was going to answer her questions.
In the basement, she dropped the load in a spare bedroom. She noticed a picture of her son on the nightstand next to the bed. The photo was taken just before midnight on New Year’s Eve a few months before. She flipped over the frame, removed the portrait, and folded it to fit in the small pocket of her yoga pants before going to talk with her father.
“My entire life has led up to this day,” Mike said, offering her a seat at a small table. “When we were children, they told us how this might happen. Since we couldn’t stop them, your mom and I spent our entire lives preparing. I hoped the gene remained dormant because of what it might mean for our family. So, we never told you. A part of me thought the government made up the story and the awakening would never come to fruition. For centuries, people passed down stories of the awakening, what they called ‘The Event’ on the news. The story was just science fiction after so many years. And this whole thing was just a story to me. Your mother and some others were convinced otherwise. To humor her, I figured a more hands-on approach would better equip you and Kevin if the time came.”
“You know what all this is?” Valerie raised her voice to her father, unable to mask her frustration. “Why this is happening? Is this part of one of your what-if scenarios or have you known this was going to happen all along?” She wanted to scream. She felt betrayed.
“Our family is special—you, me, Kevin, and perhaps Caleb. You and your mother are especially unique. The electricity, Valerie, the energy is in you.” Mike reached across the table to hold her hand. “Most people only have a little bit—enough to keep their heart beating and their metabolism going—but people like us harness power. We don’t make the electricity go away; we absorb it.”
Valerie was irate. Electricity meant nothing to her. She wanted to be safe in her home with her family.
“Does Scott know, too? Do they teach this in the military?”
“I don’t know if he does, but chances are yes. When you reach a certain level of leadership in the ranks, they divulge a little more. They told us the population would weed itself out. They trained us on how to collect mass numbers of people. I had no idea the government was building up to this. I never put the two together.”
“The CDC trained you? How do you not know the mission you’re training for? Are they going to take Caleb? Tell me! Where would they take him?” Valerie stood from the table. The lights in the basement began to flicker.
Mike stood up in alarm. “Val, I don’t know where they would take him if they could even find him. If he’s with Gia, then he is safe, but you are not going anywhere tonight. You must rest and regroup. I am having a buddy of mine take you to Max. Kevin was supposed to go, but since he hasn’t made it yet, I assume he’s been detained. There will be more people like us at Max’s house. He will make sure you have what you need to get home. I would never be able to make the walk.”
“Who the hell is Max?” The fact Mike had already developed a plan sent Valerie over the edge. As her agitation increased, the lights that before had been only flickering were now beaming. In the brightness, Valerie could now see her father's face clearly, and it was changing. Before her eyes, Mike rapidly regressed in age just as she had. Years disappeared.
“What the hell is this? How? What is going on?” Valerie yelled in fear.
“Your ability, Valerie, but you need
to calm down, or they will come here looking for you,” he pleaded. “The lights will give you away.”
Mike fell to the ground, gripping his war-injured leg. His jaws clenched in pain. Valerie knew there was only one way to help him. She had to get away at once. She was somehow causing the pain with her electricity. Every light in the house was burning at the highest capacity. She went to the spare bedroom where she had left her bag and shut the door. Two paintings hung on the wall. Her mother had painted both. Valerie focused on them to help calm her panic. She would have given anything to have her mother there with her, but not even her mother’s memory could calm her. The room was still lit up. She could feel her energy physically shooting out to power the circuits within the house but could do little to control or even understand it. The lights pulsed with her pounding heart. The realization only made her panic more. The fixture above her burst like her phone when she saw Gia’s name flash across the screen.
She pulled the rifle from the bag to remove the contents intended for her father, shaking with sobs. There were ninety-eight miles between her and her baby. Walking would take her three days without any obstacles, four if she were hung up by anything. She kept going over what her father said about the electricity. It was in her; which made little sense because it did not seem to be contained by anything at all.
Her father swung the door open, just as the light bulbs throughout the rest of the basement burst, sending glass flying behind him. A bolt of electricity shot from Valerie’s hand to the wall, starting a fire in the corner of the room by the window. Mike held a finger to his lips and motioned her to the melting egress window. He pulled a release, and the window frame fell to the floor. Valerie fit hunkered down in the window well. Mike passed her the rifle. Still hidden, she could hear voices above her organizing a raid on her father’s house.
Apparent Power: DiaZem Trilogy Book One Page 4