Lights Out (Book 2): Power Trip

by James, Hayden

  “I couldn’t tell you,” said Demi, her eyes wide open. “I was certain I cleaned it out well,” she said. Demi continued to examine the red, swollen skin that bulged with the stitches adhering its closure. “There must have been some bacteria in there when I sewed you up. You need antibiotics!”

  Chapter Two

  Demi Thicke

  “Wait right here,” commanded Demi after realizing the gravity of the infection that Mike had.

  “I’m going to come with you!” countered Mike.

  “No, you’re not! You are in no condition to travel. We need to get this infection under control now!” Demi was harsh with her words and tone, but she had no idea that Mike’s leg was so badly infected. In a way, she felt guilty for not allowing him the time to see a medical professional when they were in the emergency room. She thought she cleaned the laceration out and sutured and bandaged it perfectly, exactly as her father had shown her during her training, but evidently, that was not the case. Why did she have to be so cocky and cavalier on how she medically treated Mike? Demi knew that was her Achille’s heel, her cockiness. Yet, it was that very personality trait that made her the pop sensation that was today.

  “I’m going to go to the nearest town to get you some antibiotics. Let’s set up camp here, and when you’re better, we will start our journey once again. How does that sound?” Demi asked rhetorically.

  “Sounds horrible!” Mike argued. “We don’t have time like that. We need to get to my sister and parents. I need to get to my sister and parents.”

  “Right, you need to and at the moment, you will not make it there.” Mike did not argue with that. It was apparent to Demi that the fatigue was not only a little sleep that they both had gotten since they were fighting with the intruders but that the infection was wreaking havoc on his body.

  Demi hated that both Mike and she were on the side of the road, exposed to those who passed by. Highway 50, which they were traveling on from Ely to Salt Lake City was a highway that was not well-traveled on, leaving few who passed them on either bicycles or vintage vehicles. Thankfully, there were few stalled cars on the road. Yet, the openers of the empty desert that stretched from either horizon left them open to another ambush. This made Demi nervous, but she didn’t have a choice.

  Demi helped Mike up, and the pair walked their bikes into the desert several yards. “Let’s set up camp here,” suggested Demi. “We are out of view from the main road at least,” she rationalized, worried nevertheless.

  Demi led the charge in pitching the tent, she didn’t want to burden Mike with an unnecessary physical assertion. Mike willingly deferred to her expertise as she unpacked the tent, fastening the tent poles and staking it down. Then she untied the sleeping bags that were attached to each of their backpacks, making their makeshift camp look inviting and comfortable for Mike. It must have been years since Demi set up a tent. It appeared that Mike had never set one up, as he did not seem to know what to do even if he was capable of helping. Once again, Demi’s survival skills were attributed to David’s instructions and mandatory practice.

  After the tent was up, and the sleep bags were set, Demi left for Major’s Place, a small town in Nevada close to the Utah border. “I’ll get back soon,” she assured Mike, who laid on one of the sleeping bags in the tent.

  “I’ll be here,” joked Mike, obviously he was aware how the infection ravaged his body. Demi and Mike rode only four miles before Mike collapsed on the side of the road. She would ride there to get antibiotics for Mike to treat his infection. Demi left her supplies with Mike, taking only her black Amex card and the handgun she kept in her holster.

  Arriving in Major’s Place did not take Demi long, she relied on the drills and early morning marches that David, her father, made her do at four-thirty every morning. The mental resilience that came from her drill exercises, as her father put it, instilled in her discipline. Her father made her and her sister, Lacey, do drill every day for five years straight, up until Demi left. She relied on this very energy and mental toughness when she was performing live shows. Dancing, singing and getting the crowd engaged took a great deal of energy, and Demi was fit enough to go for hours.

  Demi was even astonished on how physically and mentally fit she was. As she felt the breeze on her face, the crisp morning air keeping her awake, she attributed her being capable of riding through the night on very little sleep to her father, even though it pained her to do so.

  Demi exited the highway, getting off on the off-ramp and headed into Major’s Place. No wonder this was called the Loneliest Road in America. When she commuted from Salt Lake City to Las Vegas for shows when she was getting her start, she would take Highway 93 into Nevada. Since she went between Utah and Nevada often during the beginning of her career, she knew this part of the United States quite well. The US 50 was known as the Loneliest Road, and Demi had never been on it until now, and it was definitely living up to its name.

  As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but dirt, weeds that blew in the morning wind and a picturesque mountain range of the Sierra Nevadas with glacial caps that made this little piece of earth seem quaint. “Wheeler Peak,” she muttered to herself after remembering the name of the peak that she had passed so many times. It was the tallest mountain in the Snake Range and in White Pine County. The sight of this peak brought back memories of Demi’s early days when she drove herself to shows, often scoring a gig in Reno or Las Vegas. Wheeler Peak was the second-highest peak in Nevada next to Boundary Peak. She had never been up the range, only driving by it. However, this area, the land of nothing was reminiscent of her early career.

  Desolation would be an understatement to describe the junction between Panaca and Majors Place also known as Majors Junction. Majors Place, a sparse community, did not even have a gas station. Antibiotics were going to be difficult to come by.

  As she exited, she rode past an RV park, where people were living as though nothing had occurred. Freshly washed clothes hung from lines, people sat on the steps of their double wides sipping beer. Kids played games with balls with each other. The scene was heart-warming because Demi was certain that whatever sense of humanity there was had left with the power, but here kids were cheering and shouting from the excitement of their game.

  Demi rode to a bar that was adjacent to the RV park, which appeared to be doing business and was open. She walked the bike inside the bar with her, since she did not trust anyone. Heading straight for the bar, she saw that there were around ten people in the place.

  “How can I help you?” the man from behind the bar asked.

  “Uh, hi,” Demi started, noticing that they seemed to be well-stocked of supplies. “You guys have power?”

  “We are on generators, for the time being, you know, until the power comes back on. Power comes in and out here, so we have a generator. We’re thinking it will last us around a few weeks. We are getting gas from Ely, and we only run the generator during business hours. What can I get you?”

  “Are you taking credit cards?” Demi asked.

  “I’m afraid not. We have the machines to do so, but they aren’t connecting to the servers. We are only taking cash until this whole thing is fixed.”

  “Understandable. I’m in need of antibiotics, nothing fancy, just something to kill off an infection that my friend has. Do you know where I might find some?”

  The bartender thought about it for a moment and answered, “The closest doctor around these parts is up in Ely. But I’m sure someone in the RV park might have some they’d be willing to sell or barter.”

  “Thanks,” responded Demi, moving with a sense of urgency to head to the RV park that she had just passed.

  Demi arrived at the RV park, entering through the main entrance and cycling along the RVs and trailers that lined the perimeter and rows of the park. As she rode, children chased each other while the adults sat on their stairs or fold-up chairs outside, enjoying life. This small town in the middle of nowhere seemed as though nothing had
ever occurred. As if there was no EMP attack on the power grid, and society’s infrastructure remained intact. This was a sharp contrast to what she and Mike encountered as they made their way out of Las Vegas. Seemed the simpler people lived the less they had to lose when things went awry.

  She rode by two adults, a man, and woman, who sat in folding chairs outside their RV both drinking Coronas as they watched the children play. They appeared to be warm and inviting as they sat back in their chairs, taking in the sun. The Aura Borealis effect from the HEMP detention could still be seen in the daytime sky, but it was faint, versus during the nighttime sky when it was a constant reminder of an attack.

  Hoping the two could point her in the right direction of where to get antibiotics, Demi stopped and asked them, “Excuse me,” she started. “Would you happen to know where I could find some antibiotics? I have a friend who has an infection and I don’t have time to go back into Ely to find a doctor.”

  The man answered, “Gees, I’m not sure. We have Tylenol if you’re interested in that.”

  “Thanks, but I have enough Ibuprofen,” she responded, surprised by the gesture of even offering to give up such a commodity, even if he did charge her. Momentarily, she thought back to Moira’s bulk shopping at Costco and Lonnie's generosity of how she had a five hundred capsule bottle of Ibuprofen. “I need antibiotics,” emphasized Demi, pressing them to help her.

  The woman chimed in, “I hear Bob, down the way might have some. He’s always working the system to get free prescriptions that he never uses. I guess that he might have a spare cycle of antibiotics.”

  “That’s great. Where does he live?” Demi asked, excited to have a lead to get the antibiotics.

  “He’s at the end of this street in a silver paneled double-wide. He has been at this RV park since it was Mobile Estates decades ago,” the man answered.

  “Well, thank you, I appreciate your help,” replied Demi. She waved and rode toward Bob’s double-wide. The two adults gave a friendly wave back as Demi continued, determined to get the antibiotics for Mike.

  A man sat in front of the silver-paneled double wide that the man and woman described. He was big and burly, bald with collared shirt and jeans. He was not as old as the man and woman made him seem. “Hey there,” Demi started, braking her bike to a stop and getting off. “Are you Bob?” Demi asked.

  “No, ma’am. Bob is out in Ely. I reckon he’s making his way back from today. He was there when the power went out. I’ve been watching his place until he returns. I live a few doors down. I know he’d do the same for me,” explained the man in a defensive tone.

  “Oh, I see,” answered Demi, disappointed that she ran into some bad luck, not finding Bob at his place. Her eyes fell to the ground as she weighed her options of heading to Ely. She reasoned she could make it there and back to Mike before sundown if she rode fast and found antibiotics immediately.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?” the man asked.

  Demi lifted her eyes back to the man. “Um, well. I’m looking to buy or trade something for antibiotics. I was told that Bob might have a stash,” answered Demi. Since entering the small town, slowly Demi realized that people did not recognize her. This was one place where her fame did not carry any weight. Everyone was friendly to her, or helpful because she was just another human being. This was both disheartening and reassuring to Demi at the same time.

  “I’ll tell you what,” replied the man. “Let’s go inside and see if we can find the antibiotics. I’m certain that Bob would have given them to you if he were here.”

  This relieved Demi as she did not have to ride into Ely to acquire the pills. Demi followed the man inside the double-wide trailer. Before the man opened the door he turned and said, “My name is Reginald by the way,” he held his hand out.

  Demi grasped his hand and shook while she replied, “Demi. Pleased to meet you.”

  “I must say, that is some colorful hair. Did you do that yourself?” Reginald asked.

  “I have it done,” answered Demi in a coy manner. Demi followed Reginald inside Bob’s double-wide.

  “Where would you think Bob would keep his pills?” Demi asked as she rummaged through a hall closet, from what she was told, she was looking for a large stash.

  “Couldn’t tell ya,” replied Reginald, looking in the small bathroom medicine cabinet. “He’s something,” yelled Reginald.

  Demi met him in the bathroom, following his voice, eagerly anticipating what he found. “What is it? Amoxicillin? Azithromycin?” she said as she made her way to the small bathroom.

  When she got to Reginald, she found that he was not holding any pill bottles that she was expecting. “Oh, thought you found something,” she mused, turning to head back to continue rummaging through the hall closet.

  “I did find something all right,” replied Reginald as he pounced on her turned back, knocking her to the floor. “I’ve always wanted to be with a pretty girl like you,” he muttered in her ear, his warm breath making the hairs on her back stand up as he pushed the back of her head down so she was not able to get up.

  “Let me go!” Demi screamed in protest, kicking her legs trying to fight the hold he had on her. Demi let out a gut-wrenching scream at the top of her lungs, bursting the blood vessels in her overworked throat.

  “Quiet!” Reginald commanded pushing her head further into the carpet of the double-wide. He grabbed for the back of her waistband, somehow missing the holster that was around her waist tucked beneath the hem of her leather jacket. He ripped her jeans that Amanda, Lonnie’s daughter had given her, exposing her panties. “Now we are getting somewhere,” he said, still holding her head down.

  Demi feared the worst. She flailed her arms, trying to feel the grip of her handgun, but to no avail. “Hold still!” Reginald shouted, his knee on her back, his hand pushing down her head, and his other hand ripping off her pants. This action only made Demi kick and fling her legs further as she screamed, fighting.

  As Demi’s head was pinned to the floor of the doublewide trailer, she heard and felt vibrations of footsteps coming up the stairs. Hopefully, someone heard her screams and was coming to check it out. Within moments, Demi felt relief as she felt the doorjamb release. Reginald almost had her jeans ripped down the backside, but Demi kept kicking her legs, fighting him as he tore more and more of the pants.

  “What in the world?” a male voice shouted from the opened front door. Demi could not see what was going on, but she had felt the vibrations of his footsteps and him opening the door. “Hey! Get off of her!” Demi continued to scream at the top of her lungs.

  “She’s mine!” Reginald argued, Demi’s pants now off.

  The male voice came closer, “Get off of her now!” The commanding voice moved closer to Reginald. Demi felt a thud above her as Reginald was struck with an object, knocked off of Demi.

  “Ma’am are you all right?” the male voice asked.

  Demi lifted her head that had been pushed deep into the carpet, rug burns on her forehead. “Yeah, yeah I am all right,” she confirmed, looking at the man for the first time. The man wore jean overalls and a plaid shirt. He was older, around sixty years old, but strong and muscular. The only indication that he was older was his white hair, otherwise, his physique appeared to be quite young. The man held a bat, which he must have hit Reginald with, which knocked him off of Demi.

  The man took his attention away from Demi and over toward Reginald, whose head was bludgeoned from the strike. He laid, propped up by the wall, unconscious, bleeding from the blow to the head. “Goodness, Reginald. I hate this goon,” said the man, checking for a pulse on his neck as he crouched down near him. “He’s nothing but a low-down, good for nothing vulture. Surprised he hasn’t ransacked my place once he realized that I hadn’t returned.”

  Demi realized who this must be, “So you’re Bob?” Demi asked.

  “Yeah, that’s me. You were looking for me?” Bob asked.

  “Yes, I heard from your nei
ghbor that you had some antibiotics on hand,” answered Demi, gathering her wits after the attack. Pushing the trauma deep down, gaining her composure to attend to the task at hand, which was getting antibiotics for Mike. She sat up, gathering her ripped pants and holding them together, a reminder of the ordeal she had just undergone.

  Bob must have seen her uneasiness with her pants. “Sure, no trouble at all. I’ll get you some antibiotics and a pair of pants. But first, let me make sure I didn’t kill Reginald. I hate him, but I don’t want to add killer to my repertoire.”

  “Wasn’t this self-defense?” Demi countered, confused that Bob was wanting to save someone he despised and was trying to rape her.

  Bob laid Reginald down and went to get some items to tend to him. He returned with smelling salts and bandages. “You’re right. However, right or wrong, I could not live with taking another man’s life. I could not have that on my conscience.” Demi understood, yet she was hoping that Reginald died right there on the floor. She compartmentalized the trauma, and stuff the terror and fear she felt, quickly trading it for anger and rage.

  “I’m not as conscientious as you,” she answered behind Bob as he tended to Reginald. Somehow she controlled the pulsing anger that went through her blood. She yielded her temper to get what she wanted, the antibiotics.

  “He’s coming to,” answered Bob, as he held the smelling salts by his nose. Slowly, the eyes of Reginald slight open, and he focused his gaze on both Bob and Demi.

  “What in the world happened?” Reginald said, reaching for the gash on the side of his forehead.

  “Well, Reginald. Seems that you were trying to assault this young lady over here and I had to stop ya,” explained Bob in a matter of fact tone.