by Ryan Schow
“You’re right,” Adeline had said. “I just need to lay down for a second. This smoke is giving me a terrible headache.”
They could smell it in the house now. It was in their clothes.
When she laid down, she couldn’t get Brooklyn’s words out of her head. The girl was right. Adeline wasn’t just pacifying her when she said that. Before drifting off, she began to see things the way Brooklyn was seeing them, and all the sudden the threat of food shortages sent her into fits of worry.
She’d needed to rest a bit, sleep off this headache and get her emotions right, then they could figure out how to ride out the aftermath of this attack. The sleep had done her little good, though. Thankfully her headache subsided. That was at least something.
Downstairs, the front door opened and she heard Orlando and Veronica both say “Hi.”
“Hey,” Fire said.
Tiptoeing out of bed, she went into the hallway, peeked around the corner at the top of the staircase in time to see Brooklyn giving Fire a big hug.
Adeline went back to her room, laid back down.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the front door. She went to the window, looked down. She didn’t see anyone, and no one had come in a car. She hurried back to the top of the staircase in time to see Fire answering the door.
He had his gun tucked behind his back.
Her husband opened the door and she heard a voice she recognized. Draven. The kid from next door.
“It’s crazy to think we’ve lived next door all these years and until today we’ve never formally met,” the kid said. “And it’s even crazier to think an incident as horrific as this might bond us as neighbors, but stranger things have happened.”
“This is what you’ve come to tell me?” Fire said.
“Actually, my grandmother and I would like to formally invite you to our home for dinner this evening.”
“That would be really nice,” Fire said.
Adeline heard the dull edge to Fire’s voice. Something was wrong. Something more than the obvious. Did things go awry while they were out? She was already heading downstairs. Fire turned and saw her. There were ghosts in his eyes. More of his soul gone.
“Draven wants to have us over for dinner,” he said.
Draven smiled the way a boy smiles when he likes the woman he’s looking at. This was not an uncommon reaction, for Adeline knew she was pretty. Sometimes the attention felt good, but most times she felt like it was just guys seeing past her value as a woman and focusing only on her looks. Not that it even mattered anymore. She knew her value.
“There are two more of us now than there were before,” Adeline said. “But that was very nice of you to offer.”
“My grandmother says this is our Last Supper. She’s weird like that. But don’t worry about the extra guests. We’ll find a way. If there’s anything my grandmother learned from her run in with the BLM and the Feds, it’s that you never know when you’re going to have to hunker down and batten down the hatches, so to speak.”
“What does that have to do with dinner?” Fire asked.
“It means we have enough food.”
Adeline frowned at Fire, then smiled at the boy, who really only had eyes for Brooklyn, it seemed. Tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, Adeline said, “We’d love to join you. Can we bring anything?”
Relieved, he said, “Just bring yourselves. Eudora’s already cooking.”
Later that night, around six, Adeline, Brooklyn, Orlando and Veronica headed next door for dinner while Fire stayed behind to lock everything up. He joined them a few minutes later, meeting the woman in the wheelchair for the first time.
“Well aren’t you a wonderful piece of work,” Eudora said with a smile. “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I met you in person, but now that I have, I’m happy to meet you.”
“Grandma,” Draven warned.
“I can compliment the man if I want,” she said. “Now ask him if he wants something to drink.”
Everyone smiled and Draven said, “Beer or water?”
“Beer,” Fire said.
“Hosts sometimes,” Eudora said, shaking her head, but still holding on to Fire’s hand.
Adeline just watched the cute older woman with her husband and tried to remember a time when she used to look at him like that. To her, it seemed so long ago. Eons maybe. Then again, she doesn’t even look at Caelin like that, and he’s a good looking man. For that split second, she wondered if the loss of love for Fire was the loss of her ability to love anything anymore.
Inside, the dreary smell of smoke was replaced with the mouthwatering smell of a home cooked meal, something she hadn’t had in forever.
“Everyone sit down,” Eudora said when they were inside. “Draven is quite capable—and single”—she said, looking at Brooklyn and winking—“so whatever it is you need, you just let him know. He understands he needs to be on his best behavior.”
“Grandma,” Draven said, handing Fire a beer, “we talked about this.”
Zipping her lips with her thumb and forefinger pinched together, looking at him defiantly, she said, “Mum’s the word.”
“We don’t need these nice folks thinking we’re strange,” he said with a smile and some color to his cheeks.
“Everyone we know is strange,” Brooklyn said.
“Yeah,” Orlando added. “Haven’t you heard? Strange is the new norm.”
“I told you they’d be fine,” Eudora told Draven. “Now let’s get this feast underway. I’m starving!”
Draven brought in the dishes of cooked meat and vegetables. Brooklyn stood to help. By the looks of things, this was indeed a feast!
“This was a really nice thing you wanted to do with us,” Adeline said.
“How else was I going to get you over here?” Eudora said. “I have an ulterior motive of course. I’m not good at hiding it so I’ll just come out and say it. We are screwed six ways from Sunday.”
“Grandma!” Draven said.
“Oh, hush boy! Let an old lady speak,” she said. No one seemed to object, so she continued. “My husband died defending his land from government bureaucrats and bad elements of an otherwise decent FBI. He always thought a day like this would come, but I’ll tell you what, there’s no way in hades he would’ve ever predicted this!”
“What are you saying?” Veronica asked.
“I’m saying, my lovely young guest, that if this persists, a time will come when banding together will be our only salvation. So my ulterior motive was to get you here to ask if that day comes, would you like to take my knowledge and your skills—whatever they may be—and combine forces for survival’s sake?”
“How bad do you think it’s going to get?” Adeline asked.
She was terrified of asking the question, but she knew it needed asking. If there was anyone who could lend some insight on survival, Adeline figured it was Eudora.
“Let’s eat first,” Fire said. “Maybe for a moment we can pretend none of this is happening. That we’re old friends coming together for the sake of good company and that’s our only motivation.”
“That’s a good idea,” Eudora said. Then to Adeline: “You’ve got a smart cookie here, young lady.”
She hadn’t been called young lady in days. Forty was a few years back and she didn’t feel old, but she sure as hell didn’t feel young either.
After dinner and dessert, when the night was winding down, Fire said, “Back to what we were talking about, Eudora. Before we changed subjects.”
Eudora smiled at him, a bit too long. Clearly she was smitten. “As I was saying, the power will likely go out in the next day or two, and I’ve made a list of things to do to prepare ourselves.”
“Such as?” Adeline asked.
“We need food, water, medical supplies—things like aspirin, antibiotics and suture kits, not to mention hydrogen peroxide, wound dressings and bandages, just in case.”
“We have guns and ammo,” Orlando said. “So we can
fortify the houses if need be.”
“Guns won’t be enough,” Draven told the boy. “Those are defensive measures, not survival measures.”
“Defense is survival,” Orlando said.
“What if no one comes for you or your house?” Eudora said. “Are you going to eat your guns? Take a shower with your ammo? Drink your shell casings? Guns and ammo aren’t survival.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“We have the military for survival,” Veronica said.
“I don’t think we do,” Draven replied, gently. “I recently jumped on a 4Chan board—”
“What’s a 4Chan board?” Brooklyn asked.
“Hackers. These guys know everything. Anyway, they said military installations all over the nation are getting hit. Planes, helicopters, base hospitals, base housing. And police stations, too. Anyone who can fight the drones, that’s who they’re taking out first.”
“Why would we blow up our own military?” Veronica asked, adjusting her glasses.
“Someone else, or something else, is in control of our drones,” Eudora said. “Our military isn’t taking out themselves. Our drones have been hijacked is what he’s trying to say.”
“The autonomous drones,” Draven said, “the ones who can operate without the use or direction of humans, I think those are the ones that have been hacked. Or maybe the entire system has been hacked.”
“No way,” Orlando said, not like he didn’t believe it, but like he hadn’t even considered it. “How is that possible?”
“I brushed over this with your parents earlier. Quantum computing, machine learning, interconnectivity not only between people and devices, but between devices and devices—this is how it works.”
Eudora said, “It seems crazy, I know, but some of these hackers aren’t often wrong. They collect raw data, and a lot of it. The ones my grandson follows, they have a track record of being right, even when it’s not popular.”
“That being said,” Adeline added, “what else can we do?”
“When the power goes, we need to shut off the main sewer lines, hope the backflow valves work, and duct tape all the drains.”
“Why would we do that?” Fire asks.
“Unless you want sinks and showers full of poop—”
“That can happen?” Brooklyn interrupted.
“It can,” Eudora said.
“What else?” Veronica asked.
“If these drones don’t let up soon, and we have no military response, there will be only one way to solve this national problem,” Eudora said.
“EMP,” Draven said. “Electromagnetic pulse. It’s the only way to fully disable the drones. But the risk is too great to use unless it’s the only answer left.”
“Won’t that fry…everything?” Orlando asked.
“Not everything, but enough to completely change our way of life,” Draven said. “You’re basically detonating gigantic nukes in the atmosphere hoping to take out every last drone, and maybe even the source computer. The problem is, you can’t take out the drones without taking out nearly everything else, including the power grid.”
“How much do you know about EMPs?” Fire asked.
Based on earlier conversations, Adeline had the impression Draven knew enough about them to know what he was talking about. Fire was smart, though, so she figured he was testing the kid to see if he was all scare tactics, or if there was some real knowledge behind his assertions.
“I know enough,” Draven replied. “There are basically three pulses from an EMP. The first, E1, is a quick but ferocious burst of electromagnetic energy. Allegedly it takes out all solid state electronics, things with semiconductors, things like computers and communications devices. Your normal surge protectors don’t protect against this. But even if they did, there are two more pulses following the E1.”
“The E2 and E3, yes?” Veronica said.
“You know about EMPs?” Draven asked, impressed.
Smiling nervously, she said, “No, but I figured if there was an E1, there’d be an E2 and an E3 following.”
Draven laughed.
Eudora said, “I like her already.”
“The E2 comes quickly on the heels of the E1, a pulse of energy that surges somewhere between a micro-second and a full second. Technically the E2 pulse is the easiest to protect against, but only if the E2 hits first, which it doesn’t. The way the nuclear bomb works is the E1 hits first, hits hard and cripples. Then the E2 comes along right after the E1 and takes out devices normally protected from the secondary-type pulse.”
“So what’s the E3 pulse then?” Orlando asked.
“It’s the worst of them. This is the one that does the most damage. An E3 pulse is long and slow. It can last from tens to hundreds of seconds. This is what fries the grid, your electrical infrastructure, everything important that cannot be replaced and cannot easily be rebuilt. The E3 pulse from a nuclear bomb is basically the end of civilization as we know it.”
“How do you know all this?” Adeline asked him.
Eudora said, “Because his memory is as close to photographic as it can get without actually being photographic.”
“Is this true?” Brooklyn asked, looking at him.
“This is my grandmother’s eloquent way of saying I’m a computer nerd,” he said.
“You are,” she chimed in.
“I am.”
“Well if this is in fact the case, then the nerds will soon rule the world,” Brooklyn said with a fair measure of humor.
“To the nerds,” Veronica said, raising her half empty glass.
“To the nerds,” everyone chimed in, laughing and they clinked glasses and shared a much needed moment of levity.
The respite would not last long, though. Adeline was smart enough to know there was far more to worry about if something like that happened than just sewer lines and guns and food and water. And you only worried about that if you survived the drone assaults.
Will we survive? Will we even want to?
“How long do you think President Dupree will go before he does this?” Orlando asked.
“There’s no telling, Draven said. “I guess it all depends on when he feels his hand is forced. He’s got a good cabinet and solid generals, so he’s probably getting some pretty good advice by now. That’s to say, he’ll know the ramifications of orchestrating such an event.”
“He’ll be killing his country,” Fire said.
“That’s right,” Draven replied.
“I need to use the restroom, if you’ll excuse me,” Adeline says.
She heads to the restroom, plops down to pee and texts Caelin while she’s going. She wants to know if he knows what’s going on. Mostly she wants to know if he’s still alive.
He texts right back, telling her he’ll call her in a second.
Adeline puts the phone on vibrate, quickly finishes, then sneaks out front door, opening it as quietly as she can. Instead of shutting the door all the way, she closes it to a crack, then steps out on the porch as the phone starts buzzing.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Is it okay to talk?” Caelin asks.
“Only for a second, we’re at the neighbors house.”
“All of you?”
“Yes.”
“Even Fiyero?”
“Yes, even Fiyero.”
“All I know is there’s police out, but not in force. They’re losing to the overwhelming crush of looters. People say the city is gone, that America is gone, that there’s no military, so this is going to keep going until the end.”
“That’s dismal,” she said, trying not to let Draven’s frightening assessment of the situation scare her into another panic, or worse, permanent emotional paralysis.
“Half the news stations are off the air, and the ones that aren’t, as of five minutes ago, they’re no longer reporting, they’re simply broadcasting warnings and methods of emergency preparation.”
“What are they warning about?” she asked.
&
nbsp; “The end.” The silence spread, then: “Adeline?”
“Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“I want to be with you,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking of you, and now it’s starting to show. Cindy can read me like a book. She’s becoming suspicious.”
“Are you sure this is even appropriate with everything going on?”
“Of course it’s not appropriate,” he said. “But like you said, the heart wants what the heart wants, and what I want is you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Cindy’s officially taking the kids to her mother’s house. So that’s done. The next question is, do you want to be with me?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it. Fire and I have a lot of history together, two kids, a life.”
“Life is over after this, Adeline.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You can’t feel it though?”
“Of course I can.”
“Then say it.”
She stilled herself, then: “I want to be with you Caelin.”
“But what about Fiyero?”
“The man’s a Neanderthal, like you said. And he’s gone. He’s a freaking wreck. Going to the DEA took away whatever shreds of humanity he had left in him. He’s barely even human anymore.”
“Okay,” he said. “Keep your phone on and I’ll text you when Cindy’s gone.”
“I don’t know how all this will work, Caelin,” she said, fresh anxiety spooling up inside of her. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s not like we’re leaving our families, this whole world is coming apart.”
“I know.”
“Do you even know what to do in the event of something worse than this?”
“Like what?”
“An EMP strike, to stop the drones?”
“Jesus, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well if we’re going to survive this thing together, you have to stop thinking about doing whatever business you do and start thinking about surviving.”
“If that’s the case, things are going to get hard.”
“I know.”
“Maybe that changes things between us,” he said, testing the waters.
