by Lucin, David
“Yeah. Me too.”
* * *
Jenn’s eyes shot open. Sweat ran down her cheeks as she stared into the darkness. Her arms and legs tingled with adrenaline. Sam lay beside her, one hand resting on her stomach.
Had something woken her up?
She held her breath and listened. Only the whistle of Sam’s nose and the rapid drumbeat of her pulse.
Soon, her heart rate began to settle. She shut her eyes again and laid her hand atop Sam’s.
Why was she so afraid? She didn’t remember dreaming or having a nightmare. Sam wasn’t snoring or making much noise, other than his persistent nose whistle.
If not Sam or a dream, then what? Not traffic. This was Payson, not the city, and the EMP destroyed most cars. She hadn’t seen or heard one running since the roadblock on the highway. What else could it have been? Sometimes, Gary and Maria’s fridge made strange thumping and buzzing noises at night, but the cabin’s fridge was downstairs. Besides, the power was out. Ajax occasionally woke her up, too, by kneading her stomach, right above her bladder, or by draping himself across her ankles. But no cat lived here.
What felt like hours passed, though it might have only been minutes. Whenever she struggled to sleep at home or at the Ruiz house, moving to the couch in the living room, for whatever reason, sometimes helped. Maybe it would work here.
She eased Sam’s hand off her belly and slipped out of bed. Patting the nightstand blindly in the dark, she found her flashlight. Next to it lay Gary’s gun. She hesitated for a moment but took it with her. After all, Gary stressed the importance of keeping it close.
An arm outstretched to guide her, she shuffled into the hallway, where she flicked on her light. In the kitchen downstairs, she poured a glass of water from a milk jug. When she and Nicole returned from the creek, Sam had pots ready at the barbecue in the back yard. Thankfully, the propane tank was full, so they turned on a burner and boiled the water. It still tasted a little like dirt, but at least it was safe to drink.
On the couch, she draped a blanket over her lap. The gun lay on the table, within arm’s reach.
Too bad Sam couldn’t have taken her here under better circumstances, in a time before the depression, the war, and the bombs. This part of the state was beautiful, and it reminded her of hikes in Prescott with her family. This house was beautiful, too, a relic of a prosperous age long past for most Americans.
She lay down and pictured Gary and Maria waiting at the dining room table as the candles burned low. They’d expected Jenn home by dinner. Maria would be worried sick. Good thing Gary had given his car to Carla, or else he might have left his wife alone and tried driving to Payson in search of Jenn and Sam. She wished she could call or text and tell them that she was okay.
Gary. He always wanted to help. Would he work for the police again now? Yesterday, he said the Flagstaff PD was underfunded and undermanned. The town could probably use an experienced person like him. Hopefully he didn’t expect to be paid. Then again, Jenn doubted the bank would be chasing him down to collect his mortgage payments or property taxes anytime soon, so he wouldn’t need the money. Maybe they would pay him in food or water instead.
What would Jenn do? She always imagined herself as a robotics engineer—a job that, so far, had survived the explosion of artificial intelligences. A shame that post-EMP Flagstaff had no use for people who could fix complex machines and computers. It needed police, like Gary and Liam, technicians to manage the water supply, and, if no help came soon, farmers to grow food. In school, she learned about electrical systems, but only solar power would work after the EMP, and she didn’t know a damn thing about it. Without Internet, how could she learn? There must be a book somewhere. Emerald City at NAU, maybe. Helping restore power to parts of town, if anything, fit with her skill set.
Flagstaff would need doctors, too. Though Nicole had only finished her first year, she probably knew more about the human body than anyone who wasn’t already a nurse or a doctor. If she volunteered at the hospital, she might learn quickly.
What about Sam? Maybe he could become a mechanic. He always rotated his own tires and changed his own brakes. People still needed cars, and if solar power came online, they could charge them. Then Sam could ask Sophie for an internship at Minute Tire. Jenn smiled at the thought, then shuddered as she remembered the brawl and how Sam took a punch to the lip.
She was probably getting ahead of herself. America was resilient. It could weather this disaster. Flagstaff just had to hold out until help arrived. It might take a few months or more, but relief would come. It had to.
With a yawn, she shut her eyes and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. It smelled sweet, like a fruity candle, and was soft on her skin.
A ticking sound came from the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard patio.
Her mouth dry, she lay still. Had she fallen asleep?
The ticking continued. It reminded Jenn of Ajax scratching to be let into her room.
She pushed the blanket aside, flipped onto her stomach, and peeked over the arm of the couch.
A shadowy figure stood on the patio, fiddling with the door.
Everything went numb.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Maybe now she was dreaming. Maybe she’d never left the bed upstairs. She could still be there, under the covers and safe beside Sam, his warm skin against hers.
More ticking. The muffled sound of a voice joined it.
The gun. It lay on the table to her right. She could reach for it, but whoever was outside might see her.
The ticking stopped. The voices continued but grew quieter and more distant.
Teeth chattering, Jenn forced herself to peek over the armrest again.
No one there. Just the barbecue and patio furniture, both bathed in faint orange from the moon overhead. The haze of smoke obscured the fence and the trees beyond.
What did these people want? They must know this house was occupied. The SUV out front made that clear, and Jenn cursed herself for not parking it inside before bed. And if people lived here, it stood to reason that they’d have water. After Jenn and Nicole’s trip to the creek, there was plenty of it now. Not to mention the food that Sam’s family had taken into the garage but hadn’t eaten yet.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, Jenn retrieved the gun from the table. Should she call out to Sam? She could dart upstairs and wake him, but what if someone was still watching her? Could she safely leave this couch? Maybe she should yell instead. That would alert the entire family, though, and the people outside. These intruders had likely assumed that everyone in the house was fast asleep. That meant Jenn had the element of surprise. If they came through the patio doors, she could—
A jiggling sound echoed down the hallway.
Another bolt of adrenaline surged through her. Motionless, she listened and waited for the door to break down or the windows to shatter.
Then, without warning, the jiggling stopped. No more voices.
She twisted her head and checked the patio behind her.
All clear.
On shaky limbs, she darted for the sliding glass doors and drew the blinds. The room darkened a shade, but at least no one could see inside. Still, when she took her seat on the couch, her arms and legs trembled. Her stomach hurt, too.
She considered telling Sam and Nicole what had happened, but what good would that do, other than frighten them? In the worst-case scenario, Barbara would wake up. Then what? Nobody would be able to sleep anymore.
Soon, the tingling in her extremities subsided. The room turned black again as her vision normalized. Her eyelids felt heavy once more, but she refused to let herself nod off. She stayed awake by pinching the skin on her thigh, counting to fifteen, then pinching again. When one patch of skin went numb and raw, she moved to another.
How had everything fallen apart so quickly? First, they were carjacked on the highway. Then they witnessed a robbery in town. Now someone had attempted to break into the cabin.
Could Jenn even handle a journey like that?
19
“Jenn!”
Sam shook her shoulder with one hand.
She glanced at the patio door, then the hallway, and finally the Glock lying on the table.
Sam gestured to the gun with a nod. “You should put that away. My mom will have a meltdown if she sees it out in the open like that.”
Jenn rubbed her eyes, her vision fuzzy. “Is she up?”
“Not yet.”
“What time is it?”
“Early,” Sam said. “Just after six. Why are you sleeping down here?”
She considered recounting what happened last night, but she shouldn’t worry him. His mother was a heavy enough burden. “I couldn’t sleep.” A half-truth. “Sometimes moving to the couch helps.”
“Looks like it worked.”
“Apparently.” Jenn pulled off the blanket and took the gun off the table. “I’ll go change. Then we can find a place to charge that car, pack up your parents, and get the hell back to Flagstaff. Is Nicole coming with us?”
Sam’s mouth drew into a line. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound too happy about that.”
“I mean, I’d rather she stay here with Mom and Kevin, but she knows Payson a lot better than I do. We need her to navigate. Besides, even if I knew where we were going, she’d insist on coming anyway.” His brow knit together. “Kind of like you.”
She put a hand on his chest and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Go get dressed.” He patted her butt. “We’ll be out by the car.”
Jenn changed into her jeans and pulled on her sports bra and a fresh tank top. Her toothbrush beckoned, but clean teeth could wait. Besides, her mouth would taste like ash after only a few minutes in the smoke, anyway. The carry holster went onto her pants; the routine of wearing it had become almost second nature.
In the kitchen, she took a milk jug of the boiled water and met Sam and Nicole at the SUV. Sam, dressed in khakis and a button-up shirt, looked the part of a city tourist. So did Nicole, who wore an expensive-looking long-sleeve workout top and equally expensive-looking exercise pants. Her runners were a flawless white accented with bright pink. She’d tied her hair up in a tight bun and even sported a touch of mascara and blush.
Smoke shrouded the driveway and road beyond. The sun, deep red and blurry, rose over the trees in the east. It cast no shadows in the dull haze, an eerie and unfamiliar sight this early in the morning.
“Ready?” Sam put his hand on the handle of the driver’s side door.
“Ready,” Jenn said. Nicole made for the back seat, but Jenn stopped her. “Ride shotgun. You need to tell Sam where to go.”
“Okay,” Nicole conceded. “Sure.”
Jenn sat behind her. The car smelled like freshly shampooed upholstery. Beneath her, the leather seats squeaked and formed to the shape of her body. Not a stone or fleck of dirt soiled the carpets. She half expected a minibar to present itself from a hidden compartment somewhere.
“Where to first?” he asked Nicole. “What’s closest?”
“Well, um, there’s a charging kiosk that has solar. It’s on the main highway. The hospital might be closer. The only other place I can think of for sure is the golf course. We go there for dinner sometimes, and it definitely has some. It’s a little bit farther away and in a different direction than the charging kiosk or the hospital.”
“Hospital seems like the best choice to me,” Sam said. “The one in Flagstaff didn’t lose power. Maybe this one didn’t.” He craned his neck to look at Jenn in the back seat.
“Works for me,” Jenn said. “Nicole?”
“Sounds good. We can drive by the kiosk and check it first. It’s not really out of the way much. A block or two.”
“Okay.” Shoulders tense, Sam put a thumb to the ignition. The BMW buzzed to life, and the touchscreen flashed a warning: Battery critically low. Sam dismissed it and cycled through windows to disengage the autodrive.
“You’re going to drive?” Nicole asked.
“The sensors use a lot of battery,” Sam said. He gripped the shifter on the center console and threw it into reverse, then hit the gas hard enough to almost hurl Jenn into Nicole’s seat. “Sorry.”
Nicole gripped the strap across her chest. “When’s the last time you drove on manual?”
Sam put the SUV into drive, and it jerked again as he pulled forward. “It’s been a while.”
He crept along the winding road that led into town. Hardly more than a block in either direction was visible through the smoke. The daytime running lights made things even worse, so Sam turned them off.
Soon, the tall pines, long driveways, and two- or three-story houses gave way to bushy trees and squat homes with gravel lawns and attached garages, some of which sported graffiti on the doors. Most were boarded up and foreclosed, victims of the housing market crash.
“It should be your next right,” Nicole said.
A stop sign materialized in the haze. Sam turned at it. Ahead stood the charging kiosk with a canopy sheltering two stalls. Behind it was an old convenience store. Boards covered its windows and front door.
Jenn shifted forward enough that the seat belt pressed against her chest. “There it is.”
“I see it,” Sam said.
He pulled over. Jenn peered at the chargers through her window, and butterflies rose in her stomach. “Are they on?” she asked.
Sam leaned over the center console. “I can’t tell.”
“I’ll check,” Nicole said.
Jenn’s hand drifted to the gun on her hip. If Nicole was in trouble, would she have time to pull it out and then fire? Not if her window was closed. She pressed the button on the door to lower it, and smoke wafted in, making her cough.
“Close your window,” Sam said. “The smoke is brutal.”
Jenn didn’t answer him. She lifted her shirt and laid her fingers on the grip of the Glock. Nicole bounded across a nature strip of red gravel and toward the charging stalls. She checked the left one first and tapped its screen. Then she moved to the one on the right. Following several more taps, she shook her head and whirled around.
“They won’t work,” she said when she returned to the car. Jenn rolled up her window.
“Won’t even turn on?” Sam asked.
“The screen’s just blank. The whole thing’s offline, so I assume a power surge wrecked it.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Where’s the hospital?”
With a nod, Nicole indicated to the road ahead. “Go straight. Should be your second right.”
Sam put the SUV in gear. His eyes drifted to the instrument panel behind the steering wheel.
“What’s the charge?” Jenn asked.
“Zero point six percent.”
The BMW buzzed as Sam pulled away from the curb and drove forward.
“Stupid Kevin,” Nicole said and shook her head. “He never remembers to plug the car in.”
“Honestly,” Jenn started, “I’m glad he didn’t. If he did, the EMP would have fried it.”
Sam took a right at a faded sign marked with the word “HOSPITAL.” The road was narrow and lacked curbs or sidewalks. On either side, strands of wiry grass sprouted from patches of dirt or sand. Above, power lines ran from utility pole to utility pole, drooping in the middle. Sam drove past more houses, these ones with overgrown yellow lawns, heaps of trash, and “FOR SALE” signs in the front yard
s.
When they approached a four-way stop, Nicole pointed. “Turn here. It’s just up this street.”
Sam eased the car left and slowed to a crawl as it passed a church. Crudely spray-painted text covered the broad stucco wall.
“Behold,” Nicole read aloud, her forehead tight to her window, “the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it.” She bit her lip. “What does that even mean? Is it a Bible quote?”
Jenn’s skin crawled. “Sam, hurry up.”
“With pleasure.” The car lurched forward, throwing Jenn into her seat.
Shrouded in smoke, a brown building came into focus at the end of the street. “This is it,” Nicole said. “The parking lot’s on the far side.”
Sam navigated around a stalled truck in the right lane, then followed the road as it snaked to the hospital’s main entrance. Soon, they reached a lot littered with a half dozen parked cars. The telltale glisten of solar panels atop a line of parking stalls signaled a charging station. “There!” Jenn exclaimed.
“That’s it,” Nicole said.
Sam turned into the lot and made for the chargers while Jenn surveyed their surroundings. The hospital stood at a single story, half of its walls a faded pink. The other half was white, as if someone had begun painting but never finished. At the front of the building, steps and a wheelchair ramp led to the main entrance. The sliding door was open, and inside was dark. No lights, no sirens, no chattering nurses.
“It’s on,” Sam said, his voice too loud for the car.
Jenn’s stomach jumped into her throat. Sam pulled into a stall beneath an overhead canopy and shut the engine off. Outside, the smoke made Jenn nauseous and reminded her of the terrible wildfire in Utah when she first came to Flagstaff two Septembers ago. This was worse. Far worse.
Sam plugged the charger into the hood. Nicole, her hands on her knees, inspected the stall’s touchscreen.
“Is it working?” Sam asked.
“It’s asking for payment,” Nicole said.
“Payment?” Jenn blurted. “Are you serious?” She eyed the screen. Please insert payment card to continue, it said.
