“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, in her best politician’s voice. “Thanks for coming this morning. As you all know, I’ve come today to bring you some very important announcements. Over the last month, the United States government has been meeting with leaders across the country, as well as consulting with experts in various fields, to figure out exactly what has caused the problems plaguing us today and to come up with solutions to them.
“First of all, the government has been able to conclusively determine that this event, which they’re calling the Pulses, is global and is caused by a pulsar, which is a rotating neutron star. This pulsar was created from a supernova that occurred in 1999.”
“Speak English,” someone yelled. “I don’t know a supernova from superman.”
“A supernova is an exploded star. I don’t understand enough about it to explain better than that, but Mabel Litchfield assured me she’d be opening the library today, and she’s pulled all the books that explain this in more detail. They’re calling the pulsar SN1999.
“Until recently its pulses had no effect on our planet. But on May 24, this pulsar’s gamma rays began to reach the earth. These produced electromagnetic pulses that knocked out all of our electronics.”
“So is it gonna kill us?” Gary Emory called over the crowd.
A rumble went up, but the mayor quieted them. “As far as scientists can tell, there doesn’t seem to be any harm to humans.”
“So far,” Amber Rowe said, bouncing her baby on her hip. “But from what you’ve said, things could change, right? Couldn’t the radiation get stronger?”
Alarmed, Deni looked up at the mayor, waiting for an answer.
Kit looked frazzled by the question. “My understanding of this whole thing is limited, believe me, but nothing I’ve been told so far suggests that the radiation might increase. And the good news is that pulsars eventually die out after a few months … or a few years.”
A roar erupted, and Deni looked at Chris. “Then this could be over in a few months? We could actually go back to the way things were before?”
“Don’t count on it,” Chris said. “She said it could be years.”
The mayor raised her arms to silence them. “The pulse effect happens because the pulsar is emitting these rays as it rotates. So every few seconds we get a pulse. It’s like a lighthouse beacon, rotating around and hitting us with rays every time it passes us. That’s why even new equipment is destroyed once it’s turned on. Even the military’s equipment, designed to withstand any manner of attack during wartime, isn’t defensible against it.
“If and when the pulsar dies out, most of the high-tech equipment that isn’t working today will have to be rebuilt or repaired. It’s destroyed.”
If? Deni shuddered at the idea that it might not end.
“Simple electricity will resume working, however,” the mayor continued, “once the electrical plants are up and running.”
“You mean we’ll have to replace everything?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.
“That’s what I’m being told. But who knows — maybe science will find a way to salvage some of it.”
A man a few feet away got to his feet and swore. “Are you telling me that in our whole government, with all the science and all the telescopes and computers, nobody knew that this was gonna happen?”
“We should have been warned!” Roland Gunn yelled. “There should have been systems in place!”
The mayor held up both hands to stem the protests. “They didn’t know, Roland. Nobody knew this could happen, or I guarantee you there would have been something in place to protect the economy. It surprised all of us … even the scientists. But listen — we’ve all known this event was catastrophic. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. The letter from the White House a few weeks ago said as much. The only difference now is that it has a name, and it’s official.”
A low roar of complaints waved through the crowd.
“Guess we won’t know it’s over until the lights start coming on,” Chris muttered. “If we aren’t all dead first.”
Deni searched for the bright side. “At least we won’t have to rewire our homes.”
The mayor clapped her hands and raised her voice again. “Now, I have several things I need to cover today — some new decisions that have been made at the highest levels of government. These decisions have been difficult, but they’ve been made in the interest of preserving our country, so that it will be possible to recover economically if and when this is over. Some of these are bad news, some are good news. I need you to hear me out before you react. This situation is difficult for all of us. Remember that I’m a citizen just like you. I’m having to work my fingers to the bone to survive just like everyone else.”
“Get on with it,” someone shouted.
The mayor paused, as if dreading what she was about to say. It must be really bad, Deni thought.
“As you know, the government is extremely concerned about the banking system. To protect the investments you have in the bank, they have chosen not to reopen the banks at this time.”
A yell went up from the crowd, and several people sprang to their feet. Chris was one of them. “No!” she cried with the others.
“You can’t do this!”
“It’s our money!”
The mayor raised her hands. “Hear me out! That’s all I ask!”
“Maybe we need to break in and get it out ourselves!” a man yelled.
“We can’t live without cash!”
Sweat trickled down the mayor’s face. “Don’t shoot the messenger!” she cried. “Let me finish! We’ve made provisions for getting you some cash! Please, hear me out.”
The volume of the protests lowered somewhat, but already some were crying. Mumbling continued around them. Many who’d been sitting were standing now, as if preparing to lynch her.
“The president has decided to call in FEMA to handle disaster relief.”
“FEMA?” the crowd shouted.
“FEMA can’t get anything right,” Roland Gunn yelled. “We can’t depend on them!”
“Frankly, I’m willing to accept help wherever we can get it,” the mayor said. “If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you how it works.”
The crowd grew quiet.
“Since this disaster affects everyone, and not just a region of the country, they can’t just set up offices in every town. For the last few weeks they’ve been trying to decide the best way to help Americans. But it hasn’t been easy. There’s never been a disaster on the scale of this one — not since Noah’s flood, anyway. FEMA’s resources are limited, especially without transportation or communication. To help us with our immediate needs, they’ve concluded that our economy will need a massive restructuring. That means that prices need to temporarily drop drastically, on everything.”
“How will that help?” an angry woman cried. “It doesn’t matter how cheap things are. I don’t have a dime to my name.”
“We’re going to help with that,” Kit said. “Here’s how we’ll do it. FEMA will disburse twenty-five dollars to every American — adults and children alike — and they’ll continue it every three months — ”
The crowd erupted again, but the mayor kept talking. “They’ll continue it every three months until the Pulses stop or our economy can take over.”
“Twenty-five stinking dollars?” someone shouted. “How is that gonna help?”
“Just listen. As I said, adjustments will have to be made to pricing. The government is recommending that prices be reduced by 95 percent for the duration of the Pulses. That means that what used to cost one hundred dollars should now cost five dollars or less.”
James Miles, who owned one of the local hardware stores, almost knocked someone down as he tried to get to the front. “The government can’t tell me what to charge for my merchandise!”
“No, they can’t,” the mayor said. “You’re right. They can only make recommendations. But if you wa
nt to open and stay in business in the current economy, you’ll have to make these adjustments. People are dead broke, James. The twenty-five dollars won’t change that. As long as the banks stay closed, your money is protected, but everything’s going to have to scale down to get things moving again.”
James let go a string of curses that made Deni cringe, even though she was used to such language in her college dorm.
“Many of you have already been bartering to survive,” the mayor said. “That will have to continue. But it’s our hope that giving you this infusion of cash will allow you to make purchases so that you can find ways to make more money. For instance, you might be able to make things that people need and will buy. Yes, you’ll have to price them low, but if everything is priced low, then you can afford it. And if you go from being a consumer to a merchant, you’ll be a step ahead of the game. Hopefully, this will help some of the stores to reopen. We’re working on getting steam locomotives running to bring products across the country, so stores will have new merchandise sometime in the next few weeks. With the FEMA disbursement, a family of five will have 125 dollars. That doesn’t sound like much, but it’s more than you have now.”
“When do we get the money?” Deni recognized her father’s voice and saw him standing next to her mother in the crowd. He looked pleased with the news, a good sign. He knew the inner workings of the economy better than most. He would know if this was a lame idea.
“We’ll have what we’re calling the Disbursement on Saturday, August 14, twelve days from today. In Crockett, we’ll distribute the money at the Crockett High School football field, beginning at seven a.m. Now this part is very important. You must bring each member of your family with you to receive your disbursement. Everyone must be present. Children must be accompanied by parents or legal guardians. You’ll need to have proof that you’re a Crockett resident, as well as identification for every member of your family. When you get your disbursement, your hand will be stamped with a special ink that can’t be washed off for several days, so we can make sure that no one comes through twice. But let me say again, you must be present to get paid.” Her voice cracked, and she reached for a jug of water.
The crowd grew noisy again as the news was absorbed. Mayor Arboghast used that time for a slow drink of water. By the end of the day, Deni thought, she wouldn’t have a voice.
Mark Green, another friend from Deni’s high school days, came toward her through the crowd. At every neighborhood gathering in the last few weeks, he’d hung on the outskirts of the crowd, as if he didn’t belong. It was no wonder. Most of the neighbors treated him like an ax murderer since his father had been implicated in a string of murders that had almost included Deni.
But Deni remained his friend, and hoped the neighbors would soon follow her lead.
He’d recently gotten a haircut, and it made him look older than twenty-two. He had grown so much from the skinny track star he’d been in high school. With all the hard work of the last few months, his shoulders had grown broader. He even seemed taller, but she supposed he’d stood around six-foot-two, even before the outage. He stooped next to her as the crowd continued to roar. “Twenty-five measly bucks,” he muttered. “I have five thousand in the bank. That’s pitiful.”
Chris dropped back into her lawn chair. “It’s better than what we have now, which is zilch. I’ll take it.”
The mayor raised her hands again. “Listen up, please — there’s more. And once again, this is a bad news/good news scenario. Please bear with me. As you know, car engines built before the 1970s — before microchips — have not been affected by the Pulses. Unfortunately, there aren’t that many around. For that reason, the government has found it necessary to conscript all cars, trucks, and vans that do run, so that they can be used by emergency personnel in our towns and cities, the post office, and for other essential government uses. If you own an antique car, we ask that you drive it to the sheriff’s office immediately and turn it over to him.”
“How’m I gonna do that when I can’t get gas?” Lou Grantham cut in. He had a 1968 Porsche that had been sitting in his garage. He had used it once a few weeks ago to drive to Birmingham, but it had run out of gas half a mile from home, and there’d been no way to get more.
“Let the sheriff know and he’ll come get it. He’s having to siphon gas out of stalled cars, just as some of you have. We realize that this is bad news for those of you with valuable old cars, but trust me, it’s good news if you have a fire, need an ambulance, or have some kind of emergency. You’ll want your emergency workers to be able to move faster than they’re able to by bicycle and horseback.”
“We can’t even call them, Kit! By the time we send someone to get emergency workers, the sick person could be dead.”
“It’s better than nothing, Lou! At least they can take them to the hospital if they need to.”
“And what can they do for them there without electricity and equipment that works?”
“Shut up, Lou,” Hank Huckabee yelled. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, that’s because you don’t have to give up anything!”
Kit sighed and tried again. “Because of the nature of the problems created by the Pulses, the government recognizes the value of mechanics across the nation. For that reason, we have no choice but to conscript all licensed mechanics to help with the effort to restore transportation across our land, as well as some engineers being selected according to their expertise.”
Again, a roar went up, and Deni looked at Mark. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’re reinstituting the draft, and the mechanics are the ones they’re drafting.”
Her mouth fell open. “They can do that?”
“Sure, they can.” He got up and looked over the heads at the frazzled mayor. “Wish I was a mechanic.”
The mayor went on. “Some of those conscripted, depending on your skills, will be sent where you’re needed to help the government build engines, revamp existing engines, and develop technology that will work during the Pulses. Others of you will be able to stay in this area. But your services are greatly needed right now. We will have a table set up at the Disbursement for all of you to register for this draft and receive instructions on how to proceed.”
As the mayor went on, Deni saw her little sister running toward the crowd. She was crying, and she searched the crowd frantically. Deni stood up and watched as the twelve-year-old spotted her parents and pushed through the people. “What’s wrong with Beth?”
Chris and Mark both looked in her direction.
Beth talked to her parents, and suddenly they rushed off toward home.
“Probably nothing,” Deni said, sitting back down. “She’s probably ratting out Logan for something.” She pushed Beth’s distraught face out of her mind and looked at her watch. When would they start distributing the mail?
When the noise died down again, the mayor answered a few questions, then stepped down from the truck bed. Hank Huckabee, the homeowner’s association president, took her place. As he began updating them about the plans to start a neighborhood school in mid-September, run by several of the teachers in Oak Hollow, and went over the progress on the well being dug by the men in the neighborhood, Deni’s eyes swept the crowd, searching for the postman who was supposed to have brought the mail. She saw a scrawny middle-aged woman in a postman’s uniform and a baseball cap. On the truck bed, several boxes were stacked. Could Craig’s letter be there?
Her foot jittered as she waited, wishing they’d get on with it. But there were too many questions.
Finally, Hank introduced Mrs. Lipscomb, the postmaster. She’d bound the letters according to address, so she called out each family one by one, in no particular order. Couldn’t she have put them in alphabetical order? Even if she’d sorted them by address, Deni’s family would be at the top of the heap.
Her heart raced as she waited…
Finally, the postmaster called, “The Brannings, at 220 Oakhurst.”
Deni flew out of her chair and almost knocked down several people as she made her way up. She took the bundle from the poor bedraggled woman and, still standing in front of the crowd, flipped through the letters.
There it was! She jerked it out, almost dropping the others. Tears rushed to her eyes as she went through the rest, hoping for a dozen more. There was one from her grandparents in Florida, another from the ones in Louisiana. Something from her dad’s head office in New York. A few other letters whose origin she didn’t recognize.
Nothing else from Craig.
But that was okay. She had one!
She held it to her heart as she went back to her seat. Chris and Mark looked as happy as she was. “I told you there’d be one from Craig.”
“Well, open it! Let’s see!” Chris cried.
“No, not here. I want to be alone when I read it.” She folded up her chair. “I’ll see you two later.”
Mark laughed. “Yeah, maybe when your feet touch earth again. I’m glad you got it, Deni. I hope it says everything it should say.”
She pushed through the crowd, hurried between the yards and through the open gate into their backyard. Racing up to the door, she burst in. Her parents were standing in the kitchen.
“Guess what!” she shouted.
“Our food’s been stolen!” Beth cried.
The wind whizzed out of Deni’s sails, and she stood there with the letters in her hands, gaping at her angry family.
six
“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” KAY SLAMMED THE PANTRY DOOR. “How did they even get in? I locked the doors myself!”
Beth brooded at the kitchen table. “Jeff’s window is open. Maybe they came in that way.”
Kay let out a frustrated yell. “When that boy gets back here, he’d better have his hands full of food, or he’s going to face some consequences.”
Doug sat down and studied his daughter. “Do you think the boys were violent? Could Jeff be walking into trouble?”
“Well, they had a gun.”
Kay swung around. “What?”
Deni came in and sat beside her sister. “You saw them?”
Night Light Page 3
