Nate straightened and went over to her. She was a rather petite woman, somewhere in her early seventies. She used to be an elementary school teacher. Her husband Carl had recently sold his insurance business. Now both of them were retired and enjoying every minute of it. “Bothering me? No, not at all,” Nate said. “Just keeping busy.” He looked around, grinning with incredulity. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
Liz nodded and let out a soft little laugh. She seemed unsure whether he had been referring to the snowstorm or the loss of power or both. “I’ll tell you, it’s really something else. Carl tried to get a hold of our son in Chicago and hasn’t had much luck. I wonder if the blackout’s gone state-wide?”
“Hard to say,” Nate admitted, and it was true. He knew the Byron plant had been targeted by a cyber-attack, but what role the weather had to play and more importantly the extent of the damage was still impossible to say for sure.
“Yeah, well, I was really coming to see if you had an extra candle or two.”
Nate nodded. “Yes, of course.” He ducked inside the house and returned a moment later. “I’m gonna have to dig a few out. Can I bring them over?”
“That would be great.” She smiled, her eyes beaming back at him.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s it.”
She turned and was about to leave when Nate stopped her. “Liz, I remember a while back Carl mentioned he used to operate a ham radio. Any chance he still has it?”
“Oh, goodness, that old thing? I suppose he might. You know Carl, always jumping from one hobby to the next. I’m sure he’s got it tucked away in the basement somewhere.”
“Will you ask him for me?” Nate asked.
She told him she would and pulled the sides of her hood in as she headed back down the driveway. Watching his neighbor make her way through the shockingly deep snow, Nate couldn’t shake the terrible feeling Liz and Carl were not going to live to see the spring. He shooed the dark thought away, convinced he’d allowed a touch of Hunter’s pessimism to briefly infect him.
Chapter 11
Nate and the boys were in the basement setting up mouse traps on the food shelves when the landline began to ring. Nate leapt up to the main floor, taking the risers two at a time. The phone on the wall was already on its fourth ring when he finally answered.
“Evan, is that you?”
His brother sounded weary and short of breath. “Yeah, listen, I don’t have long. I tried texting and calling you again, but right now cell phones are pretty much useless.”
Nate concurred. “That’s what happens when everyone tries to call at the same time.” He remembered the same thing happening after 9/11. It had taken hours for the cell traffic to slacken. “How’s the core?”
“Excelsior Energy brought in a bunch of backup generators to replace the ones we lost in the cyber-attack.”
“I know,” Nate said, speaking rapidly. “I swung by the plant earlier and…”
“Joe told me,” Evan cut in. A muffled voice called out from somewhere in the distance. Evan put his hand over the receiver. “I’ll be right there. There’s no time to chat right now, Nate. But so far, the network of gennies have been working to keep the core cooled. As long as they’re topped up with fuel, we should be good.”
“You should know,” Nate said, “your wife and kids are here with us. Once things are back under control, don’t bother heading home. Lauren brought everything here you’re going to need.”
“Okay, listen, I got to go.”
“One last thing,” Nate said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Should we be getting ready to evacuate?”
Evan let out a long breath. “Byron isn’t the only place hit. From what I hear, the government’s struggling to respond, but most of the normal avenues to warn the people of Illinois have been disabled by the power outage.”
He was speaking about the Emergency Alert System (EAS), a warning folks sometimes saw on their TVs and cell phones, most commonly used to notify of serious weather events or other national emergencies. At such times, a buzzing sound would be followed by safety instructions.
“Stay by the phone. If there’s a problem, I’ll call you.”
“It might just be rumors,” Nate told his brother. “But there’s a chance the outage might stretch as far as Nebraska.”
Evan was silent.
A frantic Lauren stood next to him, doing everything in her power not to rip the phone from Nate’s ear.
“Your wife wants to have a word.” He handed the phone over. Lauren took it with both hands while the two of them spoke.
Amy’s eyes were welling with tears. She wasn’t one to cry, which made it all the more unsettling. He held her in his arms. “Evan said everything’s under control.”
“Maybe, but after lunch, Lauren and I will prep go-bags for her and the kids.”
“Smart,” Nate conceded. “I’ll think of an evacuation plan should we need one.” That last part was more bluster than fact, since he already knew firsthand the inherent risks involved in driving unplowed roads.
“I’ll make one for Evan too,” she said, her voice more even now. “Just in case.” She then opened the fridge and removed a package of hotdogs and buns.
Nate headed for the back deck to clear the snow around the barbecue. He had the propane tank connected along with a spare. If they played their cards right, the gas they had could last for at least a month, maybe more.
When he was done, he ducked his head back inside. “Babe, hand me two long candles from the dining room drawer.”
She did so. “What’s this for?” she asked.
“Call it my good deed of the day,” he replied and kissed her.
•••
The storm seemed to grow in intensity as Nate fought his way down the driveway and along the street. In the distance, he could make out the low drone of personal generators a few of his neighbors were using to keep the lights on as long as possible.
He pressed on, one labored footfall at a time. There was no denying this was one hell of a workout. Years ago, he and Amy had trekked through the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado. This was long before the pregnancy, during the tour they’d taken around the country. To put a finer point on it, it was exactly a year after the injury that had taken out his knee and any dreams of Olympic gold. The dunes hadn’t been forgiving. Not on his throbbing knee, nor on his wounded ego.
But snow, when it got this deep, was a different beast altogether. He would take the searing-hot sand any day.
When Nate arrived at Carl’s door, the old man was there waiting for him.
“Hard to believe somewhere else in the world it’s warm and sunny.” Carl laughed, phlegm rattling around his lungs like a nickel in a tin can.
Nate returned the gesture. “Can’t deny I was thinking the same thing.”
“Come in, if you have a minute to spare. The wife’s making some coffee over the fireplace. I hope you don’t mind the instant stuff. The espresso machine’s down at the moment.”
“Yeah, along with most of the state by the looks of things.”
Nate stepped in, closed the door against the cold wind trying to get in and then removed his winter clothing. He set his jacket on a hook by the front door and removed the candles he’d brought. “I hope these will do for now. I’ve got a big stash lying around somewhere. Costco was having a sale last year. Once I get a minute, I’ll dig them out and bring you some more.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Liz said, handing him a warm mug. The house was toasty.
Nate took a sip, relishing the tingle it left as it went down. “Hmm, what’s in this?”
“Oh, just some twelve-year-old whiskey I had lying around,” Carl said, motioning to a seat by the fireplace. They had an insert just like Nate. In fact, Carl had been so impressed after seeing Nate’s in action he’d gone and ordered one for himself. His neighbor had a wide, friendly face with eyes that sparkled whenever he laughed at an off-color or somew
hat dirty joke. His hair was white and curly and concentrated mainly along the sides and back of his head. They were a sweet older couple who had been close friends with his folks, John and Lydia Bauer. After his parents had relocated to Arizona, Carl and Liz had taken over the role of surrogate parents, which made the fireside chat seem normal, maybe even welcomed.
“Seems like just yesterday John and Lydia were living up the street,” Carl said. “Do you have any idea how hard your dad tried to get me to go golfing with him when he was alive?” Carl snickered, this time a low, throaty business. “I never saw the point of it. Nor did the good Lord bless me with the patience, but your old man, oh, he loved the… uh, endeavor.” On principle, Carl refused to call golf a sport and was prone to argue the point with anyone who dared to say otherwise.
Nate didn’t take the bait. “Golf in Arizona is a year-round affair, assuming, that is, you can stand the summer heat.”
“I never much cared for heat,” Carl said and Liz agreed.
“He breaks out in hives,” she said, smiling.
Carl ran his fingers along the side of his neck. “I get puffy patches running from my earlobe to my collarbone. Heck of a sorry sight.”
“Had to hit him with an EpiPen once,” Liz said, as if to prove the point.
“No, sir. I much prefer the cold.” Carl stared at Nate, his eyes narrowing. “You can always throw a sweater on if you get cold. But when you’re skinned down to your trunks and sweating your tail off, well, there ain’t much you can do.”
“It’s too bad my folks hadn’t shared your enthusiasm. They must have reached their threshold. Just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Carl leaned back in his recliner. The fabric about the arm rests had the look of a ratty old pair of slippers. “It wasn’t the cold they’d had enough of,” he said.
“Oh, not that again,” Liz shot back, with noticeable exasperation.
“It’s true, Lizzie. You know as well as me the Bauers struggled to live in that house afterward, pretending as though everything was normal. The mystery surrounding Marie’s disappearance haunted them to their graves. That’s the truth.”
Nate couldn’t believe Carl was bringing up his sister. “It’s haunted all of us,” he said, a touch more forcefully than he had intended to.
“That may be so, but her disappearance happened not far from the house, and when your parents were home no less,” Carl said, leaning forward, his elbows pressing into his thighs. “That’s not something any mother or father can easily forget or forgive. You were gone to university, but Marie was only a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“I remember,” Nate said, the pain squeezing his voice down to a whisper. And in his mind, that was how she would forever remain.
“Innocent,” Carl went on. “And confident. Not to mention curious. Yes, far too curious. My point is, I think the memories might have faded for a while, but somehow, after a time, they found a way to come back and far stronger than before. Made it difficult, maybe even downright impossible to live in that house another second. They died never knowing what happened to her, that’s the hardest part of all.”
“Oh, Carl, why?” Liz chastised her husband. “Why can’t you let it go? It happened a long time ago?”
Fun-loving as he was, when Carl got it in his mind to do something, there was no stopping him, come hell or a hundred-foot tsunami. “Living a lie never did anyone any good. He’s a man and soon enough he’ll be a father as well. It’s time he got the truth, warts and all. And just like your sister’s ghost your parents said they felt walking through that house, you’ve got a ghost of your own. One that’s been following you for a long time. It wasn’t your fault, Nate, and I wish for everyone’s sake you’d forgive yourself and let the dead be dead.”
Marie wasn’t dead. Not to Nate she wasn’t. But he stayed quiet, sipping his coffee and staring at the fire. The thought of jumping to his feet and storming out had occurred to him. But he also knew Carl was right. In trying to protect him, his parents had only swept an uncomfortable subject under the rug. What had happened to Marie was a terrible accident and none of it was his fault. He repeated the line over and over in his head, wondering whether that dark, gnawing shame would ever go away.
They sat for a moment longer before Carl broke the silence. “I suppose on the plus side, it sure is nice to be free of all those electronics, don’t you think?” he asked, setting down his cup and adding in a few fresh dollops from a silver metal flask. “The wife’s always on the Facebook. Tries to tell me it’s so she can keep track of the grandkids in L.A. I used to believe her too until I saw her posting all kinds of seems.”
Liz burst out laughing while Nate sat there puzzled. “Seems?”
“Memes,” Liz corrected him. “And stop fibbing to the young man.” She turned to Nate. “I don’t Facebook nearly as much. Not since Deputy Foster pulled me over for what he called ‘posting and driving’. I taught the little bugger in third grade and would you believe he hit me with a five-hundred-dollar fine?”
Now it was Nate’s turn to laugh. “Posting while driving. That’s a first for me. You’re lucky you got to keep your license. I’d say ol’ Deputy Foster did you a favor.”
“Ha!” Carl said, aiming a finger at her, his lips curled into a devilish grin. “I told you the same thing, nearly word for word, didn’t I, love?”
She grimaced in her husband’s direction. “Oh, shush, you old coot. Nate doesn’t want to hear you boast.”
Carl turned his attention back to Nate. “I heard you were asking about the shortwave radio.”
Nate set his mug on the table next to him. “I figured since the phones are out, we might be able to radio out to someone who knows what’s happening.”
“Seems a bit premature, don’t you think?” Carl said. “A storm this bad is likely to blow the grid out here and there. We shouldn’t be surprised if a few counties go dark.”
Nate realized it was time to come clean. He began filling them in on everything he knew.
“A cyber-attack?” Liz repeated, the words dangling from her slightly parted lips. The fear Nate saw growing behind her eyes was just as tangible.
“Evan says the company sent in a special team of engineers to help keep the core from melting down. He assured me the situation was well under control and that he’d warn me if anything changed.”
“So let me get this straight,” Carl said, leaning forward. “You’re saying someone did all this through a computer?”
Nate nodded, the corners of his mouth sagging as if to say, Hard to believe, but true nonetheless.
“How’s that even possible?”
“I know it’s hard to fathom,” Nate told them. “But consider this. Over a decade ago, the government ran a test called Aurora where hackers broke into a secured system and sent instructions to a diesel generator to self-destruct.”
“Oh, goodness gracious,” Carl exclaimed. “And here I was thinking Facebook was stealing my wife away. I never even realized it could also pose a physical threat.”
“Here’s what’s more worrisome. The plant is cut off from the internet for that very reason,” Nate went on. “So the only way inside was to somehow smuggle infected thumb drives past the gates.”
Liz was shaking her head in disbelief. “An inside job?”
“Hard to say for sure,” Nate admitted. “If it had Excelsior Energy’s logo, all you’d need is for someone at a coffee shop to slip it into your pocket or break into your house and put it in your briefcase. We may never know exactly how it happened, but I’m hoping someone on the shortwave might have some answers.”
Carl swallowed. The warm smile that never seemed to leave him had faded. In its place was a new look, teetering somewhere between concern and full-blown panic. “Let’s head down to the basement then and see what we can find out.”
Chapter 12
Carl and Liz’s basement was a garage sale junkie’s dream come true. Stacked neatly along every wall was furniture from the 1960’s and ear
ly 70’s—oval coffee tables with angled legs, a walnut cabinet covered in cobwebs and dust. This stuff had been down here so long, it had come back into fashion.
By a far wall was a narrow desk with a single seat. A ham radio sat on the desk. Wires ran down the back to a car battery.
“Lucky for you I had a spare battery in the garage,” Carl said, some of that old joviality coming back into his cheeks.
“Lucky for us,” Nate corrected him.
Carl nodded without saying a word. Instead he flipped a switch and a series of lights came on, along with the sound of static.
Nate grabbed a 60’s dining room chair with soft padding and settled down into it. For his part, Carl donned a headset that covered his ears and rolled the dial. Sitting next to him, Nate heard the hiss of static, followed by the occasional blip of silence.
“This is something of a lost art,” Carl began telling him as he continued to spin the dial. “Nowadays, it’s mostly old guys like me who are into this stuff. The boys and I in the radio club couldn’t help but marvel whenever anyone in their twenties would wander in. Of course, nine times out of ten, they were lost, looking for the seedy bar next to where we used to meet.” Carl was gliding over a scrap of unusual noise when he suddenly stopped. He rolled back, going over it slowly until a man’s voice could be heard.
“Howdy, friend,” Carl said. “This is call sign Kilo Niner Bravo Golf Golf…”
The voice continued.
“I think it’s a recording,” Nate said, leaning in to listen.
“… further instructions. This is the Emergency Alert System. Please be advised, an internet-based attack has cut electrical power to several rural and urban areas in the continental United States. Residents are being advised to shelter in place and await further instructions. This is the Emergency Alert…”
“That’s not very helpful,” Nate said. “A list of the affected states would have clarified things a bit more, don’t you think?”
America Offline | Books 1 & 2 | The Day After Darkness Page 5
