by Sean Patten
The substation had sheltered us in our hour of need, but it was falling short on the weapons front. There didn’t seem to be anything in the vicinity that would make a halfway decent weapon.
Right when I began to lose hope, I spotted something—two somethings, actually. On the other side of the substation building there were two levers, both attached to what appeared to be the main off-and-on switches for the station. They were thick and sturdy, and both attached with nothing more than a pair of heavy-duty screws.
I hurried back inside, hoping and praying that I’d find something that I could use to get them off.
“Good news?” asked Steve.
“Maybe,” I said. “Give me a sec.”
After rifling through one of the drawers, I laid eyes on something that made me want to do some kind of lunatic victory dance—it was a small screwdriver.
“Hope that’s not it,” said Steve.
I said nothing, instead hurrying back out and returning to the levers. I jammed the tip of the screwdriver into the notch and began to turn. At first, nothing happened. I struggled as hard as I could, putting every last bit of strength into turning the screw.
And then, right at the moment I worried I wouldn’t be able to make any progress, the screw gave just a bit.
“Hell yeah!” I shouted out, my hand shooting over my mouth as I realized I’d just announced my presence to anyone within earshot. I waited a moment until the silence returned before going back to work.
After a few minutes of turning, I had the screw undone. It popped out and fell into the dirt at my feet. Once it was off, I removed the lever from its place and held it in my hands.
Sure enough, it was heavy. Sturdy, too—it’d be more than enough to do some serious damage to anyone unlucky enough to get brained by it. I tossed it onto the ground and went to work on the other.
Just like the first, it took a little doing. But I soon had the second lever off. A thrill ran through me as I held them in my hands and hurried back into the substation.
“What you got there?” asked Steve.
“Check it out,” I said, handing him one of the levers.
Steve took it, the thing dropping in his hands as he underestimated its weight. Once he had a good handle on it, he slowly swung it through the air a few times, getting a sense of how to wield it.
He nodded with approval.
“Hopefully they’ll be nice enough to get close so I can smack them with it.”
“Not ideal, I know,” I said. “But better than nothing.”
“I know,” he said. “Just being a smart-ass.”
“You?” I asked with a smirk.
Steve laughed.
“Okay,” he said, his hand wrapped around the lever. “I feel a little better.”
“I won’t be long,” I said.
“Don’t say that shit,” he said. “Talking like you’re swinging into town doing some errands.”
He was right.
“Yeah,” I said. “Might be gone for the day, maybe two.”
“Or three,” he said.
“Or three,” I conceded. “But you should be okay on food till I get back. You’re not going to be moving around, and the human body’s capable of fasting for a week without any serious issues. And the water should last if you’re smart with it.”
“Got it.”
“And try not to go through all that booze,” I said. “Your body needs recovery time.”
“So much for passing the time,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just see how many times I can count the ceiling tiles before I crack.”
Another grin.
There wasn’t anything else to say—it was time to go.
“Okay, big brother,” I said. “Might as well get this over with.”
I turned and reached for the handle. But right as I placed my fingers on it, Steve spoke.
“Wait,” he said. “Not yet.”
Chapter 3
I turned on my heels to see Steve sitting back against the desk, a conflicted expression on his face as if he wanted to tell me something that he wasn’t quite sure how to say.
He set down the lever and pushed it away, as if it were a distraction.
“What is it?” I asked.
My stomach tightened with fear. I found myself worrying that he’d been hiding something from me, maybe a wound worse than the one on his leg—one that he knew would be fatal.
“Sit down.”
“You’re scaring me,” I said.
“It’s not bad,” he said. “Just have a seat.”
I did, dropping into one of the folding chairs.
“What’s up?”
“I’m not any good at this kind of stuff,” he said, still looking away. “But I just wanted to say…I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I asked. “For what? Getting hurt? It wasn’t your fault, Steve. You slipped and there happened to be a chunk of glass there and—”
“No,” he cut in. “Not about that. I mean, I feel like dumbass for not being more careful, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what?”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
I frowned.
“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.”
Steve groaned as he sat up against the desk behind him.
“I’m sorry that I let you and I get to this. Our relationship…it kinda sucked. And it’s my fault.”
“Your fault?” I asked. “You’re seriously going to shoulder the burden for what happened?”
“Not shoulder the blame,” he said. “More like own up to what I did wrong.”
“But—”
He raised his palm.
“Just hear me out.”
I still wanted to say something, but instead I did as he asked.
“When Mom died it was like a bomb going off,” Steve said. “Like some kind of disaster focused on our family. And you know what they say about tragedy, right? That people all respond to it in their own ways.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice thick now that the subject had been raised unexpectedly.
“It takes something like a tragedy to show you who you really are,” Steve went on. “To show other people who you really are. I’ve been in LA long enough to know that people spend most of their waking minutes focused on how other people see them, speaking and acting in a way that builds up this idea of how they think they are.”
“But when something major hits…” I said, seeing where he was going.
“Right. Some kind of disaster or tragedy or something else. All of a sudden you’re actually in the moment and focused, and you don’t have the chance to think about your self-image.”
“Mom dying certainly was that,” I said.
“Yep. Part of me thought she’d be around forever. She was the glue that held this fucked-up little family of ours together, right?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “And I didn’t even really realize it until after she was gone.”
“Same here,” he said. “And at first I was in total denial, even during the funeral and the weeks after that.”
He let out a snort of a laugh and shook his head.
“I was like a little kid, totally unable to actually believe that one of my parents was gone and not coming back.”
I said nothing, letting him go on.
“And when it finally dawned on me that she was gone for good I didn’t snap back into it and think ‘okay, this is reality—time to get with it.’ I just sort of…checked out. LA’s good for that kind of thing, you know? You can pretend you’re in paradise and nothing can touch you. Easy to do when you’ve got money.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said.
“It’s like a numbing narcotic or something. And I was totally happy to get all dosed up on it.”
“Can’t last forever, though,” I said.
“And it didn’t. It dawned on me what I’d done, that I’d just sort of…checked out and let life pass me by. Bef
ore I knew it, a year had passed and I hadn’t said a word to Dad. If you would’ve asked me why I thought it was okay to act like that, I don’t even think I would’ve had an answer.”
He shook his head.
“Not like you,” Steve said. “You actually gave a shit. You tried to be there for him.”
“Old man didn’t make it easy,” I said. “Pushed me away at just about every chance he had.”
“I bet he did,” said Steve. “That’s how the old man was. But you did the right thing, the hard thing. You tried to be there for him whether he wanted it or not.”
“Until he made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with my help.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. But that was his call to make. You did all you could. Me, on the other hand, I did a shitload of nothing.”
“Sure could’ve used you, Steve,” I said, letting it out. “Watching Dad sink deeper into his bad habits, watching him fall apart.”
“It was the same thing for him,” said Steve. “My drug of choice was success, but his was the more standard stuff you think of—booze and gambling and every other vice that seems tailor-made to ruin lives.”
“No kidding,” I said. “Got to the point where I realized there wasn’t a damn thing I could’ve done.”
“But maybe if I was there I could’ve done something. Maybe with both of his boys kicking his ass he might’ve shaped up.”
“No point in thinking about that now,” I said. “Or beating yourself up about it.”
“I know,” he said. “But now that I’m here with you, now that he’s gone, I can’t help but think about it. Like everything that I’ve been keeping at bay is piling down on me like an avalanche. And now here I am again, sitting it out while you do the hard stuff.”
I glanced down at his leg again, wondering what I could possibly say, but he wasn’t finished.
“And I’m sorry about Kelly,” he said. “If we didn’t know she was gone before, I guess we know now with what happened last night.”
“It’s done,” I said. “Important thing is to focus on staying alive.”
“I know,” he said, looking me in the eye now. “And it’s killing me that you’re putting your ass on the line to keep me safe.”
“Just looking out for you, like I know you’d do.”
“I may be sitting on my ass now,” he said. “But right now all I want is to get out there and be useful.”
“You weren’t exactly sitting on your ass last night,” I said.
“Just going on instinct,” he said. “But now that it’s sinking in that this shit is for real…”
“That it most certainly is,” I said.
He shook his head.
“Fucking leg.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll get out there and find some antibiotics and some stitches and whatever else you need.”
“Maybe grab me a bacon double cheeseburger while you’re at it,” he said with a grin.
My stomach grumbled in response.
“Shit,” I said. “I can’t believe I had a burger in front of me last night and I didn’t touch it. If I’d known it might be the last one I’d see in God-knows how long, I would’ve destroyed it.”
“Maybe get a grill while you’re out,” Steve said with a smirk. “Don’t need electricity for one of those.”
I laughed and got up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “But I need to get moving. Sooner I get back here the better.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I won’t keep you with any more of his gooey crap.”
“I’m…glad you said it, though,” I said.
“Just wanted you to know that I gave a shit, even if I suck at showing it.”
I leaned down and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“Time to move, big brother,” I said. “You stay safe.”
He gave me a solemn nod.
“You do the same, little brother,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid out there like getting yourself killed.”
As I made my way towards the door I realized with total clarity that though he was joking, he was right—there was a chance I might never come back. I knew it was the time to say something meaningful, just in case I never saw him again.
“Be back soon,” I said.
“You’d better.”
Nothing else left to do or say. I opened the door and stepped through.
Chapter 4
Sweat began to form on my skin the moment I stepped out of the fenced-in bounds of the substation. Walking was going to be hell, and that was even without having to worry about the psychos roaming the streets.
I tucked the lever into the back of my waistband, the metal cool against my bare skin. As I made my way I found myself wondering if I should’ve taken some supplies for myself and not left them all for Steve.
No, I assured myself. I’d made the right call. Steve’s wound was bad, and his body would need all the help it could get staying strong. The best move was just what I’d decided: to get into town, find enough food and water to keep me going, then begin searching for what I needed once I was restored.
Between the heat and the fatigue my legs started to feel heavy. Each step seemed to take more effort than it should’ve. And it was only going to get worse.
Nothing to do but keep on keeping on.
I followed the path of the power line towers, checking my mercifully still functioning watch to make sure I was keeping good time. I’d been right about what I’d said to Steve about food—he’d be fine for a little while without eating anything. Not only that, but military training taught you how to go without for a time. He might’ve let some LA softness infect him, but the training was still there. He’d proved that last night.
It was quiet. So quiet I could hardly believe it. No sound was around me aside from the soft crunch of my boots on the dirt.
My home back in New Mexico had been set up to give me plenty of solitude, but even then my peace and quiet would be broken by the sound of a car in the distance or a plane passing overhead.
Now, there was nothing.
It was eerie, unsettling. Made me realize that as much as a shut-in as I’d become over the last year or so, I was still on some level used to the familiarity of civilization. It was going to be a hell of an adjustment.
Before too long, I spotted the far-off shape of the parking garage that Steve and I had cut through last night. When I did, I held fast and considered my next move.
If I kept going, I’d be right back at the airport. And judging by the total insanity I’d witnessed there last night, it was the last place I wanted to be.
The stampede away from the plane crash had been human carnage on an epic scale, and I wasn’t eager to see the aftermath of it. I could only imagine the scene—bodies everywhere, flaming wreckage scattered around, maybe a handful of survivors still wandering around in a daze.
Best call would be to stay off the main roads, as far away from people as possible.
I closed my eyes for a moment and thought, realizing that I’d come this far without a precise destination in mind.
Then I remembered it—the strip mall we’d passed on the way to the airport. One of the large anchor stores had been a chain drug store, exactly what I needed. There I could grab some antibiotics, some pain meds, maybe even something to seal up Steve’s wound. And they’d have plenty of food and water.
Hell, maybe I’d even pick up a bottle of wine while I was at it.
I picked up my step at the thought of it. Only problem would be that pharmacies would be one of the first places people would think to check out. I knew there’d be a good chance a place like that would only be marginally safer than a gun store or one of the big box shops.
Still, I had to try. If it hadn’t been picked clean I’d be able to get everything Steve and I would need to ride out the next few days.
Heading down the road we’d gone down last night would be a terrible idea, so I stuck to the back roads instead. The ne
ighborhood around the airport appeared to be a lower-middle-class type of place, lots of small, single-floor houses with now-broken economy cars in the driveways.
And, most spooky of all, was the quiet. I didn’t see a single person around, and the air as just as still and silent as the stretch of desert outskirts I’d just traveled through.
Nearly every window was shut, and though I didn’t stick around for long enough to really investigate, I got the impression that people were likely inside their houses, none of them wanting to step foot outside. There was a good chance more than a few of them were hunkered down, still waiting for the power to turn back on, ready to write off the insanity of last night as some temporary thing.
It was going to take time for it to sink in. Maybe after a day or so everyone would have it in their head that the lights were off for good, that no one was coming to save them.
Just like I’d predicted, no cavalry had come to save the day. If the power outage had just been localized to the southwest, or even the entire western half of the country, the government would have long been here by now, ready to send in the troops and restore some kind of order. Hoover Dam was nearby, and a strategic location like that would be too important to ignore, even without it up and running.
But no one was here. No troops, no planes, no helicopters—no nothing. Each minute that passed made it more certain that this was it, that the event that had knocked out the power had almost certainly sent the entire planet back into the dark ages.
Here and now. Here and now.
No sense in worrying about what was happening in China—too much shit to take care of.
It wasn’t long before I reached the end of the housing development and approached the main road. I’d managed to move parallel to it so far, avoiding whatever was going on up and down its length. Only thing left to do was cross it.
I approached the multi-lane road, taking a long look up and down.
Nothing. No moving cars, no hordes of people. I began to wonder if I’d gotten a lucky break, if enough people were hiding out to make getting around not nearly as much of an ordeal as it could be.
