by Lucin, David
Gary’s neighbor, dressed in bright pink workout shorts and a neon green tank top, strolled down her driveway, cradling a newborn in her arms. “Good morning, Gary!” she chirped.
“Morning, Kate.”
Kate bounced her baby lightly. “You know why the power’s out?”
Gary shook his head. “Me and Jenn are headed over to ask Liam. We’ll keep you posted if we hear any news.”
“But my phone isn’t even working.”
He kept walking. “Ours neither. Stay inside for now, and I’ll drop by later if I can.”
“Um, okay,” Kate said.
Farther down, another of the neighbors, one Jenn didn’t recognize, stood in the middle of the street. Hands on his hips, he scanned the sky. Jenn looked up, too, but she only saw the tops of pine trees and wispy white clouds.
“So,” Gary said, drawing Jenn’s attention from the man and his staring, “when do you think you’ll head home to Phoenix?”
“What?”
“Your exams are done. When are you planning to go back?”
“I don’t know. Couple weeks?”
Gary stuck his hands in his pockets. “That’s what I guessed. You’re welcome to stay a bit longer if you want.”
“No, I should probably go home soon. I haven’t seen my parents since Christmas.” Jenn felt guilty about that. They’d spent their retirement savings to pay for her tuition, and before that, they paid for her to play high school softball. When she applied for university, Jenn banked on a scholarship, but it never happened. Schools didn’t have much money these days, either, it seemed. At the last minute, only a week before the tuition deadline in Jenn’s first year, her parents came through with the payments. Then they found the Ruiz family, who covered many of her living expenses. Her mother and father had sacrificed everything for her. The least she could do was spend more time with them.
“I’ll need to start looking for summer jobs eventually,” she continued. “You know how well that goes.”
“Might be easier to find a job here. I’m sure I can talk to someone.”
Jenn appreciated the offer. Gary was a sort of fixture in Flagstaff, and he knew people who’d probably hire her for casual, under-the-table work. She loved billeting with him and Maria during the school year, but she needed to spend as much time with her family as possible before September. Jenn had turned twenty in March, which made her eligible for conscription in the military draft this summer. Come fall, she might find herself at basic training instead of in a physics lecture. If that happened, it could be years before she saw home again. Camila enlisted in 2057, the first year of the war, and hadn’t been to Flagstaff since.
“Thanks, but I should go home. Plus, Sam will be down there this summer.” Chewing her cheek, Jenn wondered if Sam Orr, her boyfriend, had even woken up yet. Did he know what was happening? He liked sleeping in, and so did Jenn, but he didn’t have to contend with Gary starting home-improvement projects at 7:00 a.m., most of which, coincidentally, involved noisy power tools. She usually stayed over at Sam’s place on weekends, when they’d wake up late and lie in bed together until noon, sometimes later, talking, laughing, fooling around, or binging shows. She wished she’d spent last night there, too.
“Okay, no problem,” Gary said. “We’re happy to have you again in September.”
Jenn’s throat tightened. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? I’d love to come stay with you, but it’s not really my call anymore.”
Gary stopped walking, and his chin fell to his chest. “I’m sorry. That must be tough for you.”
“That’s an understatement,” Jenn said. The prospect of shipping off to Asia or Europe or Mexico weighed heavily on her shoulders. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Have you thought more about what I said?” Gary asked and continued forward. “About enlisting?”
“No,” Jenn said reflexively.
“You know how the military treats conscripts. You can’t choose your service. If you enlist, you’ll have a say where you end up. There’ll be opportunity for advancement. If you’re drafted, you’ll—”
“No, Gary. No.” She’d told him that a hundred times already, but he kept pushing. He pushed Sam, too. The last time he did, about two months ago, Sam lashed out and fought back. He hadn’t come over to the Ruiz house since then.
“The situation’s different than it was a year ago,” Gary said. “We’re moving into China, and word is, the Russians are ready for peace talks.”
Gary was right about that. After five years of government mismanagement and strategic bungling, America and its allies had finally straightened out the war effort and were making headway. Just last night, partisans in Hong Kong ousted the Chinese garrison and welcomed American Marines as liberators. Northern India was once again under Allied control, the Europeans had encircled Kyiv, and the Russians were running from Poland. The Second Brazilian Empire had all but withdrawn from Mexico and now faced pressure closer to home thanks to Argentina joining the American side. According to Gary, these were good reasons for Jenn to enlist. She thought the opposite. Casualties were still high and predicted to climb even higher as American forces pushed deeper into China and Eastern Europe, not to mention when the inevitable invasion of South America finally began. The tide might have turned in America’s favor, but so far, this war made the one fought in the 1940s look like a schoolyard fistfight.
“All the more reason to stay here,” Jenn said. “I think I’ll take my chances with the draft.”
“I’m just trying to help. I don’t want you spending all summer worrying and then end up getting drafted anyway. There’re other options.”
Jenn had heard that line before, and she hated it. Both of her brothers enlisted. Jason, the older of the two and almost a decade older than Jenn, died first, in early 2060, when an IED exploded underneath his Humvee in Mexico. Six months after Jason’s death, her younger brother, Andrew, went into an Indian jungle and never came out. The war had taken enough from her family. She couldn’t risk letting it take more. “I wouldn’t say ending up in the ground beside my brothers is really an option,” she said.
Jenn waited for Gary’s response, but it didn’t come. Then she realized why: she’d crossed a line. Gary and Maria stopped hearing from their daughter, Camila, last July. Jenn could only discuss the war with Gary in an abstract, detached way. Contemplating America’s fortunes in the Ukraines, Asia, and Mexico was fine, but as soon as the topic of casualties came up, the conversation always died. Gary had received no official government notice about Camila or her well-being. Maria held on and thought Camila was alive and coming home. Gary gave up on her almost immediately, and Jenn understood why. After years of regular emails, Camila going MIA meant only one thing.
Jenn was ready to apologize, but Gary turned onto Liam’s driveway. His house was the mirror version of Gary’s: the two-car garage was on the left, not the right, and the gravel in Liam’s yard was brown, almost red, while that in Gary’s was a bluish-gray. Liam also had less of a garden, which made sense considering the water restrictions in Arizona.
Gary pressed the doorbell. Jenn leaned in and listened for the chime. She only heard herself breathing. He tried it a second time, but it didn’t ring.
“Try knocking,” Jenn said.
Gary knocked three times. A moment later, the click of a deadbolt came from inside, and the door opened, revealing Liam’s wife, Erin, her bright orange hair wet from a recent shower.
“Oh, hi, Gary. Hi, Jenn,” she said, her words colored by a light Irish accent. “What brings you two to this end of the block?”
“Hey, Erin,” Gary said. “Liam home?”
Erin tugged at the bottom of her Colorado Rockies T-shirt. “No, he’s on day shift. Seventh in a row. He should be home around 6:30. Hey, is your power down? My lights are out. I tried calling Liam but couldn’t get a signal. Usually, our Powerwall kicks in and the house runs on solar during blackouts, but it’s not working. I’m starting to worry.”
“Same here,” Gary said. “Have you checked your car?”
“Nope. Why should I?”
“Listen to it out here,” Jenn said. “You can’t hear the highway.”
Erin tugged at her shirt again. “Okay. Let me grab my keys.” Leaving the door open, she disappeared inside.
Jenn and Gary made their way to Erin’s car, a white Ford SUV from probably the early twenties. A cord ran from the garage to a plug on the hood of the car. Gary circled it, bending down to check the fenders, wheels, everything.
“You a little jealous there, Gary?”
He perked up. “No. Well, yes. Maybe a bit.”
“Why? This thing’s ancient.”
“Yeah, but it’s a classic. A first-generation electric. It was probably one of the biggest ones on the market when it came out.”
Erin appeared in the doorway. She held up a black key fob and mashed the button with her thumb. “Is it open?” she asked.
Jenn pulled the driver’s door handle. “Nope.”
Erin scrunched up her face as she tried the fob again. “How about now?”
“Still nothing,” Jenn said. “You might need to try the old-fashioned way.”
Erin stuck the key in the door and opened it, then jumped up, sat in the seat, and pressed her thumb to the ignition.
“Well?” Gary came around from the rear of the Ford and stood beside Jenn.
“It won’t turn on,” Erin said, her finger pressed to the ignition button. “It was charging all night. Why would it be dead?”
“Gary,” Jenn started, “was your car plugged in?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Maybe that has something to do with it,” Jenn said.
Erin gripped the steering wheel and leaned her head back. “Debbie’s getting ready for school. How am I supposed to drop her off?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Gary said. “I’m starting to think there won’t be school today.”
Erin hopped out of the Ford and shut the door. “You think so? You think the power will be off that long?”
“I think you should keep her home. Stay inside and wait for Liam.”
She rustled her hair and blew her cheeks. “I don’t want her to get in any trouble. Last time there was a blackout, the kids stayed in school until the end of the day.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said. “If your car isn’t working and the highway’s quiet, the teachers might not have working cars, either. Best to play it safe, you know? I think Liam would agree.”
She crossed her arms. “Okay. I hope you’re right.”
“How about this? I’ll go check on Maria and come back in about thirty, forty minutes. If the power turns on by then, I can drive Debbie to school for you.”
“Thanks.” Erin put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “I wish we had more neighbors like you.”
“No problem,” Gary said. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take care now.”
“Tell Maria I say hi. Bye, Jenn!” Erin said with a wave before heading inside.
Jenn pulled her phone from her pocket and started to text Sam, but she still didn’t have any service. Hopefully he’d slept in and was at home. Without a phone, it’d be impossible to find him if he went out. They’d walked together between Gary’s and NAU a hundred times, though, so chances were good they’d cross paths if Sam was already on his way over. “Hey, Gary,” she said. “I’m going over to Sam’s place.”
“Okay. He’s probably worried sick about you. You want a ride?”
“No, I’m used to the walk. Go hang out with Maria. Plus, you need to check on Erin. She’s not really getting it.”
“I know. I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Gary patted Jenn on the shoulder. “Just try not to be too long at Sam’s. Maria worries about you, you know.”
Jenn smiled. “I worry about her, too. I’ll find Sam and we’ll come to your place.” She paused and poked Gary in the chest. “Don’t think about cleaning that pan. You always do a crappy job.”
3
Jenn felt the phone in her pocket. She thought about pulling it out and checking to see if Sam had texted or called, but she hesitated. In the last twenty minutes, since leaving Gary’s and heading for campus, she’d checked three times and still had no service. She doubted a fourth check would turn out any differently.
On her left, behind a line of thin pines, was the local doctor’s office, a squat concrete building that looked more like a bunker than a medical practice. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. That struck Jenn as odd. Doctor Park always had lineups of patients waiting to see him.
Across University Avenue, an elderly couple strolled down the path leading from a gray townhouse complex to the sidewalk. They reminded Jenn of Gary and Maria. The woman held onto the man’s arm. An oxygen tank, smaller than Maria’s, hung from a strap on her left shoulder. Early-stage COPD, Jenn figured, probably from years of smoking e-cigarettes, the same as Maria.
Two blocks farther down, a half dozen cars littered the intersection of University and Woodlands Boulevard. In the middle, below a set of dead traffic lights, a white pickup and a red sedan had collided. A crowd gathered on the far corner, next to an old L-shaped strip mall with a roof covered in glistening blue solar panels. In the crosswalk, a group of three looked up at the sky. One of them, a young woman wearing a plain black ball cap, pointed up. The other two—a man in a button-up shirt and a woman in a yellow sundress—shaded their eyes and craned their necks.
Jenn remembered Gary’s neighbor. He was looking up, too, but she didn’t ask at what. She wanted to keep moving and go to Sam’s, but she couldn’t ignore four people staring at the sky. “What are you doing?” she asked.
The man lowered his arm and took his hand off his forehead. “Checking for planes.”
“Planes?”
“Yeah,” the woman in the black cap said. “None of us have seen one all morning.”
The man looked up again. “This time of day on Friday, there should be tons coming into Phoenix. I haven’t heard any taking off or landing in town, either.”
Jenn swallowed hard. She knew the answer to her next question but asked it anyway. “Anything to do with the cars?”
“Must be,” he said. “Could be a coincidence, I guess. I’m hoping coincidence. I never really paid much attention, so it might be normal. Who knows?”
The woman in the sundress eyed Jenn and perked up. “Does your phone work?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Jenn said, “but I can’t get a signal.”
“Us neither. Nobody seems to know anything.”
“Nope. Well, hopefully we find out soon.” Jenn offered the trio a smile and made her way to the far side of the intersection. There, in a crowd of a dozen or so by the strip mall, a woman sat in the gravel between the sidewalk and a parking lot. Two others stood over her. Jenn thought she saw blood on the woman’s forehead.
“Where the hell are the police?” said a man in a green plaid shirt. Fingers interlaced behind his head, he paced and mumbled to himself. The owner of the pickup that hit the sedan?
Jenn kept her eyes down while sneaking a look at the woman on the ground. Someone dabbed at her forehead with a white cloth, then pulled it away, revealing red blotches.
The group’s chatter died as Jenn weaved through. Her cheeks flushed and she averted their gazes. Were they expecting her to offer help? What could she do? Without a phone, she couldn’t call the police, and she didn’t know a thing about first aid.
So she kept moving. Between the intersection and Milton Drive, where she’d hang a right, then a quick left, and be just a few blocks from Sam’s place, she counted six more stalled cars along University. Most came to a rest in the middle of the street or on the shoulder, but one ended up through a chain-link fence. Some owners and passengers had stayed with their vehicles, presumably waiting for the police or someone to offer help. Several shot Jenn pleading looks. If things were this bad in Flagstaff, how bad would they be in Phoenix? She pictu
red the scene: highways littered with the corpses of rush-hour traffic and sweaty commuters screaming at each other in hundred-degree heat.
Ahead, flashing red and blue lights caught Jenn’s eye. A block down, at the intersection with Milton, two police cars straddled University. Another crowd, larger than the one she passed earlier, collected in the parking lot of a long-closed gas station.
The cops might know something. Besides, if she hadn’t run into Sam yet, he could still be at home. His dorm was less than a five-minute walk now. She kept on the sidewalk and approached the patrol cars.
A semicircle of thirty or forty formed around four officers clad in black shirts and black pants. Maybe Liam was one of them.
One officer stepped ahead of the other three and lifted his hands above his waist like he was making a case. From this far away, Jenn only caught fragments of what he said, but she understood the gist of it: keep calm, go home, and wait there. It wasn’t Liam, though. None of them were.
She made out more of the chatter as she closed with the group. Several spoke and many shouted, but one man’s voice rose above the others. “We can’t just leave our cars in the middle of the road. How will I know where it gets towed if my phone doesn’t work?”
A chorus of agreement rumbled through the crowd before the voice of a woman quieted it again. “I live up on Lockett,” she cried from the front of the group. She knelt next to a four- or five-year-old boy. “How are we supposed to get home? My husband’s out of town and I can’t get a hold of him.”
Shouting broke out again.
The lead officer took another step forward. “Please, everyone. We’re doing the best we can. If you need a ride, hang tight and we’ll try to help.”
“Hang tight?” the woman with the child snapped. “Where? Out here on the street? Security guards at the Go Market turned me away and said they’re closed. We can’t even wait in there.”
