by Lucin, David
Sam patted his pockets. “I don’t have my phone or wallet. I didn’t even bring them with me from Flagstaff.”
Jenn instinctively touched her pants to confirm. “Me neither.”
“I do,” Nicole said. She presented her phone, onto which was attached a clip housing a thin stack of cards.
“You brought your phone?” Sam asked.
Nicole withdrew a silver card from the bunch. “Habit, I guess.”
When she tapped it to the touchscreen, the text changed: Connecting . . .
Nicole coughed into a fist as she waited. Sam stood by the hood, one hand on the charger’s plug. Jenn wondered if Gary and Maria had slept at all last night. Maria probably stayed awake, waiting, while Gary told her it would be okay and pleaded for her to try and rest. The longer it took to charge the car and leave, the more Maria would worry—and the greater the chances that Gary would find a way to come looking for them.
“It’s not working,” Nicole said.
Connection failed, the screen read. Please wait and try again.
Nicole tapped her card a second time, and the message changed to Connecting. After only a few seconds, the same text appeared: Connection failed. Please wait and try again.
“I don’t understand,” Nicole complained. “It should be working. I’m not even close to my limit.”
Jenn and Sam exchanged glances. “There’s nothing to connect to,” Sam said. “The whole system’s down.”
The blood drained from Nicole’s face. She tapped the card to the screen some more. “No, that’s not possible. It’s a mistake.”
“Sis.” Sam placed a hand on Nicole’s shoulder. She flinched at his touch. “It’s done.”
“No,” Nicole repeated. “It’ll work. This always happens. Just give it a second.”
Sam pulled the plug from the hood of the SUV.
“Come on,” Jenn said. “You said the golf course has chargers, right? Let’s go try those.”
Nicole tapped her card again and again, each time with more force than the last. Finally, she stopped when the plastic had bent from repeated impacts. One hand leaned against the charging station, she formed the other into a fist and struck the touchscreen. Both Sam and Jenn jumped.
“Okay,” Nicole said with a sniffle. “Golf course. I’ll direct us.” When she went to slide her credit card into its clip on her phone, she hesitated. Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the phone tightened. Then, without warning, she spun around and threw it into the parking lot, where it landed on the asphalt with a crack that made Jenn cringe.
They returned to their seats in the car. Before Sam engaged the ignition, he asked, “Where to, sis? Golf course?”
Nicole stared out her window. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Is there anywhere else you can think of?”
She didn’t turn her head. “No. The golf course is our best bet.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Sam started up the SUV and backed out of the stall.
Nicole directed him onto the four-lane road they’d driven along earlier. Heading north, they passed abandoned strip malls and long-closed fast food restaurants. At a motel, two people wearing backpacks darted across the street ahead of the car. They slowed for a moment to watch the SUV. Jenn gripped the gun, but they continued forward and disappeared behind a Mexico restaurant with orange stucco walls.
Where was everyone else? Payson might be quiet, but this felt more like a decaying movie set than a real town. Maybe the residents were still hiding inside and waiting out the imaginary fallout, as Sam’s family had done in the garage. Or maybe they remained indoors to avoid the town’s predators—the ones stealing cars and water and breaking into homes.
After a right turn onto another wide road, soon, the parking lots and strip malls transitioned to Ponderosas and shrubs.
Sam’s chin dropped as he inspected the instrument panel again.
“What are we at?” Jenn asked.
Sam didn’t answer her. Instead, he spoke to his sister. “How much farther?”
“Not long,” Nicole said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t know. Ten minutes?”
“How much charge?” Jenn asked Sam again.
“Almost out.”
“We were almost out when we left.”
No reply from Sam. He brought a finger to his mouth and went to work on a nail.
Screw this. Jenn unfastened her seat belt and moved into the center seat, then leaned forward between Jenn and Nicole. The numbers were red: 0.2 percent.
“Sam,” she started. A wave of nausea flooded her stomach.
“I know, I know.”
Sam hit the accelerator and pushed the speedometer past forty miles per hour. Would going faster drain the battery more quickly? Or did it matter? Maybe he should be driving slower. Could they turn anything off to save their charge? What if Nicole and Jenn hopped out and Sam went on his own? Did their extra weight make things worse?
The number changed: 0.1 percent. “Sam,” Jenn droned as he dodged a stalled semi truck with a sleek, aerodynamic front end. “Should we—”
Flashes of red lit up the edges of the windshield, and the central touchscreen displayed a new warning: Battery depleted. Engaging emergency shutdown.
“What the hell?” Sam took his hands off the steering wheel, which moved on its own. The car drifted right, toward the shoulder.
“What’s happening?” Nicole shrieked.
Jenn heard Sam’s shoe slamming against a pedal. He gripped the wheel and tried to regain control, but it was no use; the autodrive had reengaged.
The SUV came to a rest at the side of the road. The touchscreen faded to black, and the buzz of the engine ceased. Sam pressed his thumb to the ignition over and over, then stopped and struck the steering wheel with a fist.
“It’s done,” he said. “The battery’s dead.”
20
Nicole retrieved the owner’s manual from the glove compartment and began leafing through its pages. Sam, his elbow propped against the door, rested his cheek on an open palm. Jenn leaned back in her seat and looked up at the roof of the SUV.
Maria would have to wait longer for them. Now, with the car dead, they would have to trek to Flagstaff on foot, and that could take three or maybe even four days. If not for the smoke, eight- or ten-hour hikes would be manageable. In these conditions, though, as few as two hours of consecutive walking could prove too strenuous. Worse, Barbara might not agree to leave the cabin. Jenn imagined Sam and Nicole having to drag her outside while Kevin followed along behind and tried to keep her calm.
Jenn could go on her own. Everyone else could stay here, where they would board up the cabin’s doors and windows to protect against intruders. When Jenn returned to Flagstaff, she could ask Gary to help her find a car. Maybe Carla could be persuaded to return his Kia, if only for a day. But she would want payment of some sort. Did Gary have anything he could offer her?
If Jenn somehow talked Sam and Nicole into letting her leave on her own, and if Gary found another vehicle, could Sam’s family survive? All their food had been stolen, except for what little remained from the garage. The creek was nearby, sure, and it only took ten or fifteen minutes to walk there, but retrieving water meant leaving the house, and that wasn’t safe.
What about a hybrid car that could run on gas? There weren’t many on the roads anymore, but maybe they could find one and get it started. Sam might know how to hack it. No, he couldn’t do that without a phone or computer. What about hot-wiring? If anyone knew how to hot-wire a vehicle, it would be Sam. But what if it had no fuel? When was the last time Jenn had seen a working gas station? Flagstaff didn’t have one, so why would Payson? Either way, wouldn’t a gas station need power to draw the fuel up from the underground tanks?
Sam lifted his head off his hands. “How close are we?” he asked Nicole.
“To the golf course? The turnoff’s just up there. If it wasn’t so smoky, we’d be able to see the road.”
“How far’s the p
arking lot from the highway?”
Nicole rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. A few minutes? Why?”
“Switch seats with me,” Sam said.
Before he could step out of the car, Nicole grabbed his forearm. “Sam, what are you thinking?”
He grinned at her. “You’re going to steer. Jenn and I are going to push.”
“What?” the girls asked, almost at the same time. Jenn spoke next. “This is an SUV. It’ll weigh a ton.”
“Not one this new. This is the last model before the factories switched over to war production. The batteries are tiny and super-efficient. It’s probably not much heavier than the Tesla. Besides, look.” Sam waved a hand at the windshield. “It’s flat. Any hills on the way to the parking lot?” he asked Nicole.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. Not really.”
“Perfect.”
Nicole twisted around and met eyes with Jenn. “Whatever,” Jenn said with a shrug. “Worth a shot, right?”
When Nicole had settled in behind the steering wheel, Sam leaned in from outside and said, “Put your foot on the brake.”
She slid lower in her seat to inspect the pedals on the floor. Jenn stifled a laugh. Nicole had probably never driven on manual before. These days, thanks to self-driving vehicles, many didn’t bother learning or even seeking driver’s licenses. Easier to just book an automated ride with an app and tell the car where to go. Cheaper, too.
“The one on the left,” Sam said.
Nicole stomped her foot on the brake. “Got it.”
“Okay,” Sam continued. “Now put it in neutral.”
“Neutral?”
“Here.” Sam reached across Nicole and gripped the gear shifter. “Keep pressing the brake.”
A nod from Nicole.
Sam shifted the vehicle into neutral. “Me and Jenn are going to push. When I tell you, let off the brake. You steer the car to make sure we keep going straight.”
“Okay,” Nicole said, not sounding convinced by Sam’s plan. “Wait, won’t the wheels lock up or something?”
“Not when the car’s off. The power steering won’t work, though, so the wheel will be stiff.”
Nicole gripped it with both hands. “Ready,” she said firmly, her eyes on the road ahead.
Sam shut the door and led Jenn to the rear of the car, where they each took a side—Sam on the left and Jenn on the right—and braced themselves to begin pushing. He gave Jenn a questioning thumbs-up. “Good to go,” she said.
Sam shouted, “Nicole! Take your foot off the brake!”
With a grunt, Jenn shifted her weight and transferred it to the car. She and Sam rocked it back and forth a few times before the tires crackled over the pavement and the vehicle rolled forward.
“It’s working!” Nicole yelled, her voice muffled inside the BMW.
“Keep it straight!” Sam said.
Nicole waved her right hand but quickly returned it to the steering wheel.
Jenn drove her shoes into the road and continued pushing. The SUV had picked up speed, but gravity and friction took their toll and stifled its momentum. Soon, sweat collected on her brow. She wiped it away with her forearm. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, but each inhale stung more than the last. Sam coughed and spat out something dark and viscous.
“The turn’s coming!” Nicole announced.
“Okay!” Sam said. He turned to Jenn and asked, “Can you see it?”
Jenn peered around the car. Five or six car lengths ahead, a right-turn lane peeled off the highway and led to a road marked by a wall of neatly arranged red stones with the words “PAYSON GOLF CLUB.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I see it.”
“Let me know when we’re close.”
“Roger that.”
“Nicole!” Sam shouted. “When I tell you, you’re going to step on the brakes, okay? Come to a complete stop!”
Another hand wave from Nicole. “Okay!”
Calves aching, Jenn watched as they neared the road. “Almost there.”
“Okay,” Sam said. He backed off the car, and Jenn followed suit. The SUV drifted forward. When the front bumper was in the intersection, Sam waved his arms in the air. “Brake!”
The vehicle lurched to a stop.
Sam clapped his hands together and jogged up to the driver’s door. “Good job,” he said to Nicole.
She wiped her palms on her pants. “Foot’s still on the brake.”
“Perfect.” Sam reached in and gripped the steering wheel, then turned it right. The tires scraped against the asphalt as they angled toward the side road. “We’ll push again,” Sam told Nicole. “Same deal as before. Once we get rolling, you straighten us out. If we need to turn, turn. If you think we’re going too fast, just tap the brake.”
“Are you sure?” Nicole asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you or Jenn drove? I don’t mind pushing.”
Sam thrust out his bottom lip and shrugged.
“All right,” Jenn said. “I can do it.”
Nicole, already learning, shifted the car into park. Jenn took her spot, and they continued onto the golf course access road. Thankfully, it was flat, but it twisted, turned, and, at one point, doubled back. After twenty minutes, she stopped and swapped places with Nicole. His face red, Sam wheezed in the smoke, and his forehead glistened with sweat. Charcoal-gray spots of ash clung to his cheeks and chin.
After another twenty minutes and an almost 180-degree turn, the road opened into an oval parking lot littered with several idle vehicles. At the far end stood a sandy brown building with a peaked roof. Along the edges of the lot ran shaded stalls with blue solar panels atop their canopies. Most remained vacant.
The butterflies returned, but Jenn did her best to suppress them. What were the chances that these chargers would work? And if they worked, would they require payment? If chargers at a hospital, of all places, were monetized, why wouldn’t those at a golf course be as well?
Nicole steered into a charging stall and put the car in park. Jenn’s legs felt like rubber, and shooting pains spread across her lower back as she checked the charger’s touchscreen. It worked. With a shaky hand, she tapped it, and a message appeared: Please insert plug into your vehicle.
“It’s working?” Sam asked.
“So far,” Jenn said. She inserted the plug as instructed, and an icon of a lightning bolt flashed on the screen, along with the word Charging.
Hands on his hips, Sam leaned in closer. “No way.”
“It’s charging,” Nicole hollered. “A half percent and counting.”
Jenn threw her arms around Sam and pulled him tight. When she let him go, Nicole hugged her, too. Then, hardly believing their luck, she sat in the driver’s seat and inspected the instrument panel for herself: 0.9 percent now.
“How long will it take to charge?” Nicole asked Sam.
“Thirty, forty minutes. That’s to get it up to a hundred percent, which I want to do, just to be safe.”
Jenn agreed with that.
“Pass me the water.” Sam pointed to the milk jug in the back seat.
She fetched it and handed it to Sam, then tucked the keys in her front pocket. Sam dumped some water on his hands and rubbed it on his cheeks and forehead to wash off a layer of black grime. When done, he passed the jug to Nicole, who took a long sip.
Jenn leaned against the car. The front door leading to the clubhouse was shattered. Inside remained dark, of course. A car in the stall next to the SUV had a broken driver’s side window. To be safe, Jenn pulled her shirt up and tucked it behind the handle of Gary’s gun. That way, should she need it, it would be easier to draw from its holster. Every fraction of a second mattered.
Now cross-legged on the ground, Nicole said, “Quiet so far.”
Jenn folded her arms over her chest. “So far.”
They waited like that for a while. Sam sat while Nicole stood, then sat, then stood again. Jenn either leaned against the BMW or paced the length of it while her eyes scanned the clubh
ouse and the trees and shrubs ringing the parking lot. Haze obscured the entrance.
Nicole lifted her hands above her head and stretched, walking in circles as she did. Then she stopped, facing away from Jenn, and peered forward.
“What?” Sam asked from the ground. “What are you looking at?”
Nicole took a few more steps away from the car. “I thought I saw something.”
Every muscle in Jenn’s body tightened as she inspected the edges of the parking lot. She only made out smoke and the fuzzy outlines of trees.
“There!” Nicole said and pointed. “Someone’s coming.”
Near the entrance, a figure straggled toward them.
Sam shot up. Jenn pulled the pistol from its holster. She reminded herself not to touch the trigger.
The person was clearer now. He wore a baseball cap and tattered white tank top. His right foot dragged with each step like he was injured. “Please!” he shouted, his voice ragged. “Water.”
Nicole spun around and made for the milk jug on the roof of the car, but Jenn blocked her. “What are you doing?” Nicole narrowed her eyes. “All he wants is water.” When she saw the gun in Jenn’s hand, she said, “Wait. Why do you have that out?”
“Sis,” Sam said, leading Nicole away. “Let her handle this.”
Jenn stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, ready to fire.
The man waved with a limp arm, then pulled off his faded black New York Yankees hat and wiped his head with his forearm. Before he could put it on, he broke into a coughing fit and fell to his knees.
“He needs help!” Nicole protested. She made to dart forward, but Sam held her close.
Yankees Hat hacked again. Trails of saliva hung from his chin. His face was blackened, as if he’d been in the smoke for days with no respite, and his lips were white and cracked. “Please,” he begged. “Water.”
Could Jenn trust him? He could hardly walk, let alone attack her. There was no gun on his waist, from what she could tell. One could be tucked into his pants or strapped to his ankle, but he otherwise didn’t appear armed.
He planted his palms on the ground and pushed himself up on shaky arms.
