The third solar panel had flown away just the day before when a freak dust storm kicked up out of nowhere. Ripped it right off its pedestal and sent it flying through the air like a frisbee. Luckily the fourth, and final, panel only flipped over on its side. We found it leaning against the house when the cold woke us up.
There we were at 4a.m. smearing dust off the panels and screwing it back onto its slab of wood. That old frame came in handy, so kudos to Mom’s ‘just in case’ pile.
Mom sure was a trooper. She even had the strength to drive a couple extra screws into the panel for the next freak storm. HNN alerts loved to call them that, ‘freak dust storms’, although they came with such regularity by then.
Anyway, Mom felt good enough to make breakfast and even keep Brooks occupied so I could have alone time.
I tried to convince Howie to meet up at the tree, but he had too much to do that day. So I spent my entire free day alone with myself.
A funny thing happens to the human brain when it runs on fumes and secret candy for two years and five months after a tragedy. Without that comfortable stimulus, it... reboots?
The day started out fine, after the solar panel drama, of course. I wandered around aimlessly for a while and ended up at our tree after all. Standing there, looking up at Howie’s perch, the words he’d spoken not long ago came back to me. //I know.//
The gravity of that statement fell on me. He knew he was my only hope for surviving this mess. And he welcomed the responsibility. I’d spent two years trying to make life go back to normal. But normal was gone. Dad was gone. My dad was gone.
Everything was a blur after that. Just flashes of the day, bits and pieces incongruently scattered across my life. They had me leaning against the base of the tree, catatonic. My dad’s stone rested in my palm, leaning against mine, catatonic. Forever.
It wasn’t him. I had enough sense to know that. But it was him, somehow. Everything I never got to say to him, I thought it that day, staring at our stones. I imagined the girl he wanted me to be when I grew up, taking over the company, having kids of my own.
I knew none of those things would happen. My future died with him that day on our dining room floor. Mom’s future. Brooks’s future. Everything they’d worked for their entire lives, The Rebellion... The Underground... survival. It was all gone. I squeezed our stones together as hard as I could until the rough edges tore into my flesh.
I missed him so much. I never let myself think about it. Too much to do, I told myself. Feed Brooks. Make him take a bath every once in a while. Help Mom as much as I could. Help Howie with Evelyn and his mom. Everything was always so hard, so urgent. There was no time for missing the ones you lost.
I missed my mom. My living, breathing, trying mom. Seeing her moving around earlier, helping, laughing at the how many screws she dropped trying to fix the solar panels. The Mom she was before. I missed her.
And I missed the Mom I knew I’d soon lose. That one day of normalcy was a lie, a tease. I knew that tomorrow she’d be bedridden in agony. Would that be one that did it? When she couldn’t get out of bed ever again? When I came home from a hunt to find her dead?
The world spun around me. Everything closed in on me.
Then I was home.
I found myself in my room with no idea how I got there, blackness all around me. The Fox’s voice wafted toward me from the old PodMate I found at the landfill the week before. Dad’s radio still worked, but the reception was too sketchy. So was our electricity grid. Since Pods didn’t need either, it was better to retire Dad’s ancient radio into my closet pile of his old things. Besides, with the Pods I could even replay any episode in Fox’s backlog. I never bothered, but it was a comfort to know I could.
I looked around the room, still confused about what I was doing there. The lights were off and there was no sound coming from anywhere in the house. It was pitch black outside, too. So not only had I lost time, I’d lost an entire day.
//Howie?//
Minutes passed.
//Howie!//
More minutes. I began to wonder if the world really did end while I was... gone.
//HOWIE!//
//I’m here. Are you alright?//
//I don’t know. I...//
//Stone you scared the hell out of me!// The adrenaline played on voice.
//What happened? It’s dark.//
//You don’t remember?//
//No, I... I was at the tree then... everything just... I don’t know...//
//You freaked out or something. I don’t know, either. You were just screaming in my chip, over and over. I thought someone was...// He didn’t finish that thought, but the mental image leaked through.
I gasped. //What was I saying?//
//You were just screaming ‘Noooo’... ‘Noooo’... ‘Nooooo...// Howie’s voice trailed off. Then he added. //I found you at the tree, just laying there. You looked dead, Synta. You looked dead!// I could feel him crying, feel his heart break when he saw me like that.
I started to say something, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t think.
After a moment Howie came back, calmer. //I picked you up and carried you home. Your mom was white as a ghost when she opened the door.//
//I don’t remember anything past going to the tree this morning...// I clenched my fists to keep from trembling, then frantically checked my pocket. Tears fell as my fingers ran across the familiar lumps. //Oh, Mom. And Brooks... Did Brooks see me like that?//
//No, Brooks was over here with Marcus when it happened, thank Stone. But Syn...//
Silence.
//Yeah?//
Silence.
//That was three days ago.//
Howie’s words hung in the air. It wasn’t possible. Three days?
//Syn, I gotta go. Evelyn’s waking up. Please... please don’t ever do that again.// His fear gutted me.
//I promise.//
I sat there for a few minutes getting my bearings, unable to process the information. Fox’s voice came from the Pod as barely more than a whisper, floating from shadow to shadow around my room before tickling my ears. In complete darkness, after what Howie’d just told me, it was more creepy than comforting.
For the first time, my room felt cavernous. It wanted to swallow me up. I grabbed the PodMate off the night stand and ran to my closet, dragging the covers behind me. Huddled beside Dad’s memorial pile, I hugged the Pod to my chest and turned it up.
Just in time for Fox deliver the news.
“The First Lady is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
January 20, 5AG
Guard One smiled. “Well, at least we’re getting somewhere,” he said, wiping his brow.
Heat from the ISS Unity’s engines had seeped into the interrogation room. Both guards wrestled with their clingy uniforms.
Synta, however, relished the warmth. Cold had settle so deep in her bones that past winter. It didn’t surprise her one bit that the only cure would be exploding liquid hydrogen.
Relaxing in her seat, Synta waited patiently for the third degree to continue. By her calculations, the longer they stalled for her, the less she had to tell them.
Guard One noticed her smirk and spoke up. “So we’re at the Impeachment. Good. Can we move it along now? Not much happened after that.”
Synta’s eyes narrowed. If she could shoot lasers like Gamma Girl, he’d be dead. And Guard Two would be tackling her right about now. And her plans would be ruined. So Guard One lived to harass innocent Citizens another day.
Instead of vaporizing him, Synta settled for cold hard rage. Through gritted teeth she said, “Right. Nothing happened. Just the end of the world.”
Part VIII: 3 Years AG
Chapter Twenty-Five
“After last night’s freak dust storm, the power grid remains a priority concern for city officials.” The computer-generated voice droned on. “Crews are working diligently to restore function to Levels A and B today. Lower priority levels will likely be without power for
the foreseeable future. Citizens are urged to stock up on nonperishable goods and water.
“The Citizen New Update Channel has also been experiencing widespread outages. The situation is under investigation. Until further notice, all necessary broadcasts will be made across channel four, so please no public chatter.
“Contrary to earlier reports, Rebel hackers have not taken credit for the breech... yet. But another holovid has been uploaded to the main server from an unknown source. Once authorities have deemed it safe to open, we will break back into your regularly scheduled updates with the latest.”
“THIS IS INSANE.” I struggled against her grip. Even on death’s door, Mom was still much stronger than I was.
“We don’t have a choice.” She dragged Brooks and myself behind her. Where she got the energy that day, I’ll never know.
“You’re not thinking clearly.” My heels dug into the sidewalk like a petulant child demanding a new toy.
“No, I’m thinking more clearly than I have in a long time. This is happening.” She yanked me from my stance as if I weighed nothing.
We trudged past the makeshift shops that had crept up in the middle of the streets and alleyways since the Glitch. Tanks and soldiers guarded the ‘good’ parts of town now, searching for anyone who still had a chip. But that wouldn’t be an issue for us. We were nowhere near the good part of town. And if my mom didn’t come to her senses soon, we might not even have our chips.
The rot was still prevalent, permeating the gray atmosphere. Now, although it was more than three years after the Glitch, people dropped like flies all the time from the Wasting. It was a miracle Mom had survived this long.
“Mom people aren’t glitching anymore. We’re fine.” I slapped the chip behind my ear to prove my point.
“I don’t care. It’s unsafe. You heard the same Public Broadcast I did.”
My eyes darted around at the dilapidated buildings, stray feral dogs, and filthy street vendors crowding our personal space. “This!” I fought. “This is unsafe!”
Mom turned abruptly, the redness around her eyes deepening. She covered Brooks’s ears and whispered, “If they find your brother’s chip they’ll know who we are. We have to get it out!”
Brooks pulled at her fingers. //I can hear her.// He chipped.
“He can hear you.” I said, deadpan.
The fire in Mom’s eyes faded, returning to their normal shade of Wasting gray. Her lip quivered and she raised a hand to her face in a vain effort to hide it. She looked like someone threw a baggy sweater over a skeleton. “I don’t have much time left, Syn. We all know that. I have to protect you.” Tears welled in her sunken eyes.
I pulled Brooks to me, turning his head into my abdomen to shield him from as much of the conversation as I could. Then I sighed and rubbed Mom’s protruding shoulder. “We won’t be able to protect ourselves after you’re gone if I don’t have my chip. All the information I’ve amassed since the Glitch will be lost. I need my chip.” My finger absently rubbed behind Brooks’s ear, feeling the taut skin around his chip. It felt fine to me. Still in place. Still tight. He was fine.
//I don’t want my chip gone, Synta.// Brooks transmitted. //I won’t be able to talk to you.//
//You don’t need your chip to talk to me, Bit.// I sent back. The desperation on Mom’s face softened my resolve. //I’m always gonna be with you.//
We continued down the dark smelly street, allowing Mom to lead us to a dusty bar. I stopped cold.
“It’s not really a bar.” Mom said as she knocked three times fast, then two times slower, then one.
//My mom’s lost her mind.// I chipped to Howie.
//What’s going on?// His voice was garbled, barely coming through.
//We’re down on Swann at a bar that she says isn’t a bar.//
//Why?//
//She’s trying to remove our chips!//
//You can’t!// Howie gasped.
//I know!//
The door opened and a grimy hand waved us in. Inside, the bar was dimly lit, the hum of a diesel generator unmistakable in the corner.
“You’re not supposed to have that in the house.” Brooks blurted, the lessons I had been giving him taking hold.
The crooked man smiled. “Smart boy.” He pointed in the air to a hole in the wall. Dust from outside swirled in the light high above our heads. “Don’t worry. We’re well ventilated.”
The man, who I barely recognized as Dr. Kaolin under all the grime, motioned for us to have a seat in the corner. Following his gaze, I saw the ‘waiting room’ — four folding chairs aligned against the wall. I didn’t budge.
Mom ambled to one of the metal folding chairs and sat down, relief from getting off her tired feet evident on her face. She patted the chair beside her. “Come on, Bit.”
“You can’t be serious.” I crossed the room with Brooks still clinging to my leg. “Mom look at this place.”
Shelves behind the bar were devoid of the usual whiskey bottles, sample packs of various medicines taking their place. IV bags piled in the sink while others sat, rinsed out and ready to reuse, on the long wooden bar top. At least I recognized a strong odor of disinfectant, one saving grace of this menagerie.
“Sit down and behave.”
I obeyed. Then whispered, “Please don’t make me take out my chip. I need it.”
Mom sat silent.
As if sensing the perfect moment to pounce, Dr. Kaolin, now in full white-ish coat and stethoscope, called Brooks. He was wringing his hands, which I hoped meant he’d just washed them.
Brooks dragged his feet as he let Mom lead him to the side door. He snatched free and ran back to my open arms. //I can’t!//
I let go of him long enough to slide my hand in my pocket. “Here,” I said out loud to get him used to speaking instead of transmitting, and handed him the two small stones, “Mine and Daddy’s. Hold them and keep them safe for me while you’re in there. I’m counting on you.”
Through his sniffling, Brooks managed a hollow, “I will.” Slowly he walked back to the door where Mom and the doctor were negotiating.
“This should be a quick procedure. Young skin responds well to a minor incision.” He smiled at Brooks. “I’m almost out of anesthesia.” He studied the shelves of random medications. “I can offer you a discount from the standard chipectomy if we opt for a less potent numbing agent. Something local.”
“Like what?” Mom fidgeted with a bag of old medical textbooks. “We agreed on terms already.” She held up the books.
“I only have a couple Lidocaine patches left. But with his puny frame... a shot of whiskey would do him better.”
“Whiskey?” Horror filled Mom’s voice. “He’s only seven!”
“I understand. But that’s actually why I’m suggesting the drink. We have it right here. Plenty of it. I’d rather save the Lidocaine for someone more in need, bigger.”
Mom shoved the bag of books at the doctor’s chest. “Here. Payment for both surgeries. You’re only doing one.” Her eyes shot back at me clutching the side of my chair in the ‘waiting room’. “Give him the Lidocaine and you can have all of it.”
“Thank you. And... I’m sorry. I have to be mindful of all my patients. I hope you understand.” His face betrayed his shame.
“I do doctor. Just please take care of him.”
“Of course.” The doctor motioned behind the bar. “Put the books back there, out of the way.” Then, as an afterthought, “Maybe you should take a drink yourself. You look like you could use it. On the house.” He offered.
“No use. Won’t stay down.”
Dr. Kaolin’s expression darkened. Mom was too far gone for whiskey. He attempted a reassuring smile. “I’ll take great care of him and we’ll be done in a jiffy.” He led Brooks into the other room and closed the door.
I came up behind my mom, held the woman’s cold hand in mine, and we watched through the glass as Brooks sat in a beat up old massage chair. As he placed his face in the headrest hole
he sent out a panicked transmission. //Synta...//
//It’s OK Bit. I’m here.//
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the way out the back door of the bar masquerading as a doctor’s office, I noticed a long line of disheveled people forming around the corner. It seemed to lead right back to the front of the same building. Intrigued, I let go of Brooks’s hand and followed the line as it inched forward.
“Come back here, Synta.” Mom was too exhausted from the day’s journey to speak with much authority. The surgery was over. Brooks was fine, and her adrenaline was depleted. She was her old tired sick self again.
“It’s fine. I just wanna see.” I waved a noncommittal hand behind my back, shooing Mom and Brooks to wait for me. They didn’t protest.
Rounding the corner, I saw that I’d been correct. The people, young and old, all hunched and broken, waited patiently in a long line that started at the front door of a store adjacent to the bar. I watched as a boy of about seventeen, tall and painfully skinny, knocked the same pattern as my mom had an hour earlier. The door opened and the gaunt boy disappeared.
“What’s going on?” I asked the woman beside me.
The woman, much older than my grandmother had been when she died years ago, held up a wrinkled finger behind her hear. “Chips.” Her deep voice cracked the single word.
“You’re all removing your chips?” I looked toward the front of the line. They’re at the wrong door.
“No, child.” The woman’s putrid breath stung my nose. “Getting them.” She raised a shaky arm, showing off a brown sack tied at the top with a sliver of ragged rope. The bag jerked and wriggled. A muffled squawk came from the bag and I stepped back.
“Getting them? How?” It made no sense, until it did. I snapped my head toward the doctor’s door. “My Stone,” I whispered.
Just as the words escaped my mouth, an authoritative voice echoed over a loudspeaker at the front of the line. A balding man in a dingy business suit and tennis shoes stood on the stoop, a megaphone in his hand. “One at a time people. No shoving.”
Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch Page 11
