After the Lights Go Out

by Lili Wilkinson

  David Bratton shakes his head, and I barely recognise the man I once knew, who bought his kids an inflatable waterslide that we erected on Lake Lincoln, and that brought us many hours of squealing delight. I remember kissing his daughter in the waters of Lake Lincoln, her smooth legs tangled with mine. Dad always mistrusted him because he was ex-army, and now I kind of understand why. It’s as if he’s kicked into full military mode – switched off his personality and emotions so he can get the job done.

  He glances down to the locked trunk by the door, and his eyes narrow. ‘Weapons?’

  I don’t want to answer him. I’m scared of what’s in the trunk, and I’m scared of what might happen if angry people like David get their hands on what’s inside.

  My silence is all the answer he needs. He bends and lifts the trunk, grunting under its weight. Then he staggers up the stairs into the daylight. I duck into the communications room and pick up the manifest detailing every item in the Paddock.

  ‘What about Grace?’ Blythe asks, her brow knotted in concern.

  ‘We can’t leave her here on her own.’

  We drape Grace’s arms over our shoulders and squeeze up the narrow staircase. She cries harder.

  ‘It’s alright, Gracie,’ says Blythe in a soothing voice. ‘We’re going to be fine. It’s all fine.’

  Keller walks behind us, and Panda follows us up the stairs, her claws clicking against the steel. She’s finally picked up on the subdued mood, and her tail is between her legs, the whites of her eyes showing.

  The air is so humid it feels like I could wring moisture from it with my bare hands. People in Jubilee have been saying the wet season has been coming later and later each year. Maybe this year it won’t come at all.

  Violet and David are waiting at the top of the ridge in Mr Vassili’s Holden ute. Mateo is sitting in the tray. I help Keller and Blythe get Grace on board, then climb up, Panda jumping up to sit at my feet. I end up next to Mateo. Dad’s trunk is in the middle of the tray – we’re all gathered around it as if it’s a coffee table. I clutch the manifest in my sweat-slippery hands.

  I can feel Dad’s presence emanating from the trunk. I can feel his disappointment. I failed to protect our secret. What will happen to us now?

  As the ute starts to rumble across the bumpy terrain, my knee knocks against Mateo’s. He flinches away, and it’s the last straw, the final trigger. I turn my head towards the endless brown scrub, silent tears running down my face.

  The ute turns onto the road that leads to Jubilee. Grace moans, slumped against Blythe’s shoulder. I look over to her. Out here in the grey daylight, she looks terrible – grey-faced and childlike in her oversized pyjamas. Blythe hasn’t said a word to me. Her face is white and her lips are pinched. She strokes Grace’s head gently and whispers to her.

  Keller stares at me with flinty eyes. ‘They’re not going to give you a free pass, you know that, right?’

  I glare at him. ‘This isn’t one of Dad’s dumb survival novels. We know these people. They’re our neighbours.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Keller. ‘They’re your neighbours. And you would’ve let them starve. People don’t respond well to that.’

  I open my mouth to bite back. I would have let them starve? Keller agreed that we should continue to keep the Paddock a secret. But I don’t say anything. Life is too short to argue with Keller.

  He doesn’t take the hint. ‘You’ve been hoarding resources,’ he says. ‘What makes you think they’re not going to do the same? You think they’re going to let us queue up with everyone else to receive rations? The way I see it, there are two scenarios here. One – we are turned out into the wilderness to fend for ourselves, or two – we get executed.’

  ‘They’re not going to execute us,’ I say, although my eyes can’t help straying back to Dad’s trunk.

  Mateo shifts uncomfortably beside me, and I know what he’s thinking. How on earth could we have let Keller Reid into our secret, and not him?

  I hear a distant roll of thunder.

  ‘We should have stayed in the Paddock,’ says Blythe quietly.

  ‘Well, we didn’t,’ I snap. ‘Deal with it.’

  Everything in Jubilee is coated in a thick layer of red dust. The clouds overhead are full and low, and the air is heavy with humidity. The Holden pulls up outside the Heart, and we are escorted inside. I consider leaving Panda in the ute, but she probably wouldn’t stay anyway, so I whistle and she follows me in.

  The whole town is here – or what’s left of it. The room is still set up for the memorial, with folding chairs. I see the eyes of the dead watching me from the wall.

  Clarita hovers by the door, looking anxious. When we walk in, she hurries up to Mateo and embraces him, murmuring something in his ear. He nods, and I can see the comfort she brings him.

  I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel comforted again.

  The front row of chairs is empty, and we shuffle down the aisle and sit. Panda lies down on the cool floorboards and rests her head on my foot. David places Dad’s trunk on the stage, right in the centre of my vision.

  Violet clambers up and sits on the trunk. I flinch. ‘Right then,’ she says. ‘I thought it was about time we had a chat, as a community. We all know things have gotten real hard in the last two weeks, and I don’t reckon they’re gonna get better anytime soon.’

  ‘But the lights have gone,’ says Simmone Bratton. ‘The aurora. Doesn’t that mean things are getting better?’

  Violet looks over at Mateo. ‘Can you explain?’

  He nods and stands up. ‘The aurora is gone, and you’re right, it’s a good sign. It means that the solar storm is over.’

  ‘So why isn’t the power back on?’

  ‘It’s not that easy. The solar storm created an energy field that destroyed certain electrical circuits and microprocessors. We won’t be able to get electricity until those things are replaced. Electricity is generated in a power station, which is then transferred to substations along wires held up by transmission towers. The substations convert the energy from the power station to make it usable.’

  ‘So they have to replace something in the substation?’

  ‘Quite a few somethings. There are these boxes called protection relays – they’re what shuts the power off if things go wrong, so everything doesn’t blow up. There might be fifty or sixty of those boxes in each substation. They will all have to be replaced.’

  ‘And how widespread do you think this thing is?’ asks David Bratton.

  Mateo spreads his hands. ‘I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘But we—’ His eyes flick to me. ‘I found a radio signal from Indonesia that seemed to imply it was pretty big.’

  ‘How big?’

  Keith speaks up from the back of the room. He looks pale, and I can see his hands are trembling. ‘The report I heard on the radio said that the solar storm could affect the whole planet.’

  There’s a moment’s pause while this sinks in.

  Violet clasps her hands and leans forward. ‘So the power isn’t coming back anytime soon. Even if they fix it up in the big city, nobody’s coming out here for a real long time. We have to look after each other. Figure out what we’re gonna do, together.’

  Grace is deathly pale and trembling. I can see the swollen purple veins snaking from her hand up her wrist and arm. Her eyelids flutter and I can tell she’s on the verge of passing out.

  ‘Rick Palmer’s been keeping a bunker of stuff, out near his place. His girls and Keller Reid have been living out there in secret. They’ve got food. Hot water. Medicine.’

  I can feel eyes burning into the back of my head, but I don’t turn around. How can I ever look any of them in the face again? The Liddels drove off into the unknown in search of insulin for Ciera – insulin we had.

  Family always comes first.

  I swallow. If Dad were here, he’d tell me I’d failed.

  I’ve let everyone down.

  Violet kicks the trunk with her heel. ‘What’s th
is?’

  I hesitate, a prickle of unease creeping over me. ‘Weapons,’ I say at last. ‘For self-defence.’

  Violet stares at me for a moment, and I wonder if she can tell that I considered using those weapons against her. ‘Open it,’ she says, standing up and moving aside.

  I don’t want to. She can see it on my face. ‘Is that really necessary?’ I ask.

  ‘We can use ’em for hunting,’ she says. ‘Plenty of roos out there. Wild horses. Camels.’

  She’s right, but I still hesitate before keying in the code on the lock.

  Violet yanks open the lid, and I hear her swear softly under her breath as she sees Dad’s stockpile.

  There are six handguns, four shotguns and one semiautomatic rifle that I know for a fact is illegal in this country. Dad told me the names of each one, but I purposefully didn’t remember. Underneath the guns are knives and a crossbow and neat stacks of cardboard boxes holding round after round of ammunition.

  There’s another rumble of thunder outside, closer this time.

  I hold my breath, Keller’s words about execution ringing in my ears. And then, as though I’ve summoned him, he darts forward and grabs one of the handguns, brandishing it wildly as he shuffles backwards so his back is up against the memorial wall.

  ‘I was never part of it!’ he exclaims, his voice shrill. ‘Those Palmer girls were holding me hostage.’

  I see Blythe’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something. Panda whines.

  Violet takes a step towards Keller, her hands raised. ‘Calm down, kid.’

  ‘Don’t come any closer!’ He swings the gun wildly and points it at her.

  His movements dislodge one of the photos on the memorial wall, and it flutters to his feet.

  I have a sudden vivid memory of standing in the scrub near the Paddock with Dad, learning to shoot tin cans on stumps, while Dad lectured me on the four rules of gun safety.

  1. Always assume a gun is loaded.

  2. Never point it at someone you don’t want to die.

  3. Never point it near someone you don’t want to die.

  4. Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re a hundred per cent ready to fire.

  I don’t want anyone to die today.

  ‘Keller,’ I say, and I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds. ‘Lower your weapon.’

  He isn’t listening. The gun trembles in his hands. He’s never held a real gun before. His stance is all wrong. He’s probably watched a lot of action movies, but movies rarely get it right.

  ‘I demand asylum!’ Keller’s breath is coming in little pants, sweat beading on his forehead. ‘I won’t be executed alongside these traitors.’

  Hypocrite.

  Violet stares at him. ‘You think we’re gonna execute you?’ she says, her voice incredulous. And then, despite the fact that there is a loaded weapon aimed at her head, she lets out a throaty bark of laughter.

  ‘S-so what, then?’ asks Keller. ‘You’re going to turn us out? Drive us into the desert and leave us there?’

  Violet sighs. ‘You’ve been watching too many movies, Keller Reid. Put that thing down, you galah.’

  Keller’s cheeks and neck mottle pink, and he lowers the gun. David Bratton steps forward and takes it from him, returning it to the trunk. Keller sags against the wall. His eyes flick to Blythe and I see him calculate his next move.

  ‘I think I just had some kind of panic attack,’ he says, breathless and confused. ‘I don’t – what did I even say?’

  What a prick.

  ‘Blythe?’ Keller’s voice is smooth, the perfect combination of commanding and vulnerable. He reaches out his hand to her. ‘Can you get me some water, baby girl?’

  Blythe hesitates, and for a moment I’m sure she’s going to go back to him, to let everything he said slide. But then a frown creases her forehead. ‘How about…no?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re on your own, Keller,’ she says, her voice firmer now. ‘I wouldn’t want you to feel like we were taking you hostage.’

  Keller slides down the wall into a sitting position, momentarily subdued.

  Violet turns to me and the twins. ‘I get it, yeah? Your old man loved you girls. He wanted to keep you safe. And all of a sudden he’s not there, so what do you do? You stick together. That’s what families do, right?’

  I nod dumbly.

  ‘Why you let this drongo in,’ she jerks her head at Keller, ‘I got no idea, but there you go.’

  ‘You – you’re not going to punish us?’ Blythe asks.

  ‘What’s gonna happen to you isn’t the question,’ Violet says. ‘The question is, what’s gonna happen to your stuff?’

  ‘We should take it,’ says David Bratton. ‘Distribute it among the community as needed.’

  There are murmurs of agreement in the room.

  ‘You can’t take our property,’ says Blythe. ‘It’s ours. That’s theft. We didn’t break any laws.’

  ‘Old laws don’t matter anymore,’ says Violet. ‘We figure out our own laws now. Ask ourselves – what kind of a community do we want to be?’

  ‘One that survives,’ says David Bratton.

  ‘Survival isn’t everything,’ says Peter Wu, standing up to speak. ‘What kind of people do we want to be? When we look back on this time, don’t we want to remember our courage and honour and compassion?’

  He glances over at me, and I can see the disappointment in his face. David Bratton huffs in disdain.

  I look over at Clarita. She’s exhausted from working around the clock to save the people of Jubilee. She owes us nothing – she’s not from here. But she’s giving us everything.

  And I realise that the argument going on around me is stupid.

  ‘Take it,’ I say, holding the manifest out to Violet. ‘Of course you should take it. Take it all.’

  There’s a moment of silence. Blythe looks at me, her expression outraged, furious. But then her shoulders sag and she nods.

  Violet takes the manifest with a small nod of approval, and I feel a surge of relief.

  ‘We have to get smart,’ she says to the crowd, raising her voice to be heard over the thunder. ‘Put all our stuff together and share it out fairly.’

  The people around me nod, and I feel a stab of guilt at how easily they make the decision. How nobody tries to hold on to their stash, to look after just them and their families. How everyone instinctively wants to protect the community, because they know a community is stronger than a single family unit.

  ‘And we’re gonna start making some tough choices,’ says Violet. She pauses. ‘Like pets.’

  Panda lifts her head and looks around, as if she knows we’re talking about her.

  Barri Taylor physically recoils. ‘We are not eating our pets!’

  ‘Jesus, Barri! I’m not saying we eat them!’ says Violet. ‘But we don’t have much food. If you wanna keep your pets, you find a way to feed them. If you don’t reckon you can do that, then we can find someone to take care of it for you, so you don’t have to do it yourself.’

  Panda thumps her tail on the parquetry, because she is an idiot dog who doesn’t understand what’s going on. I can’t ever imagine knowingly hurting her. She’s family. But I’m not so naive as to think that the assumption Barri made is totally out of the question. Starvation makes you desperate. Who knows what position we’ll be in when we run out of stored food?

  ‘There’s plenty of pet food in the store,’ says Jan.

  ‘And in our bunker!’ Blythe says eagerly. ‘Dad has whole barrels of dehydrated dog food.’

  There’s a moment of frosty silence at the mention of the Paddock. I glance over at Clarita, and I can see from the expression on her face that she and I are thinking the same thing.

  ‘I think we have to save it,’ she says. ‘It’s a valuable source of protein. Dog food from a can may not be all that appetising, but it can be added to soups and stews. It could be the thing that keeps us going.’

>   There’s a long pause while this information sinks in. The mood in the room shifts, as everyone realises that this is real.

  Jubilee is in the desert. We don’t grow crops or raise livestock. We mine zinc, and zinc isn’t very useful when there’s no electricity, and no working mine. Everything we have, all the food we consume, the clothes we wear, the medicines we take – they’re all trucked in from far-off towns and cities.

  ‘Maybe we should leave,’ says Jan Marshall.

  ‘How?’ asks David Bratton. ‘We won’t all fit in George Vassili’s ute.’

  ‘I might be able to do something about that,’ says Georgie. ‘I think I can refit some of the dead cars with older motors. It’ll take a while though. Weeks at least.’

  ‘So maybe a few people should go now,’ says Jan. ‘Maybe things are better in Matadale or Garton. Maybe they’ve got more info.’

  ‘How do you decide?’ asks Keith quietly. ‘Who gets to leave, and who has to stay?’

  Jan is silent. She doesn’t have an answer.

  ‘We should get to go,’ says Mateo. ‘We’re not from here. My other mom is somewhere in Melbourne and we have to go find her.’

  Clarita grabs his hand and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they are wet with tears.

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘We stay. I’m the only person here with any medical training. We can’t leave these people to die.’

  I can see how hard it is for her to say this. Mateo can obviously see it too, because he doesn’t argue with her.

  I hesitate before speaking. I don’t know if these people want to hear from me, but I think my knowledge can be useful.

  ‘Things are probably worse in the bigger towns and cities,’ I say. ‘That’s why Dad moved here. In any densely populated area, there’s going to be disease, looting, violence.’ I pause to glare at Keller, who is still slumped down against the wall. ‘It’s safer to stay. We could learn to be self-sufficient, and there’s access to fresh water from Lake Lincoln. Plenty of wild roos and camels for protein, and not so arid that we couldn’t grow a few veggies and things.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I-I don’t know what would have happened if Dad had been here when the power went out. I don’t know if he would have shared his supplies with you all. Dad…he found it hard to trust people. And he taught us not to trust people either. But I think we’ll be stronger as a community. If we stick together. I’m sorry I didn’t see that earlier. I’m sorry we lied to you. I’m sorry…’ I look at Laurine Zubek as I trail off. I don’t know what to say to her.