She followed him inside and to the kitchen.
He immediately went to work by filling his first glass and placing it on the counter.
She took his lead and began to fill glasses too.
Abigail came into the kitchen and blurted out, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Start filling glasses, anything you can find,” Nicholas ordered.
“O-M-G, my parents have lost their minds,” Abigail joked.
Becky stopped what she was doing and got in her face. “Enough attitude. There’s been some sort of terrorist attack. No more smart-ass comments. Go and fill all the tubs.”
Abigail raised her eyebrows and her mouth hung open in astonishment. “Fine,” she replied and stomped off.
“That girl is so sassy!” Becky said.
“Like mother like daughter,” Nicholas cracked.
“Don’t put that on me. She looks like you and acts like you.”
A loud banging on the front door halted their back and forth.
“I’ll get it,” Nicholas said and bolted out of the kitchen.
He couldn’t think who might be there but suspected a neighbor. A glimpse through the peephole confirmed it was his neighbor Brent.
Nicholas unlocked the heavy alder door and opened it.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” Brent said sheepishly.
“Hey, Brent, what can I help you with?” Nicholas asked, deliberately not inviting him in.
Brent, his wife, Evelyn, and young child, Toby, had moved next to them two years before. Becky welcomed them to the neighborhood by having them over for a dinner party and then two weeks later invited them to a small gathering of other friends so they could meet some new people. They had moved to San Diego from Washington State for Brent’s work and knew only a few people. That last party was the final time they had socially hung out. Several weeks after, Brent had a party and never invited them; this happened several more times after that. Not a year later, Brent had reported Nicholas to the HOA board, complaining of too much noise during a party. Nicholas never forgave them for the snubs, but the formal complaint put Nicholas over the top; he could never look at Brent again without having the urge to tell him off.
“I was wondering if your power is working?” Brent asked.
Just looking at Brent’s short stature and thinning black hair repulsed Nicholas. “No power here either.”
“What about your car?”
“No.”
Brent could feel the negative energy between them but was relentless in his questioning. “Um, any chance you might know someone who has a car?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Nicholas exhaled deeply and asked, “What do you need?”
“Toby needs medicine. His inhaler will be running out soon, and we need to pick up his refills.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“Hi, Brent, how’s Evelyn?” Becky asked, walking up behind Nicholas.
“Oh, hi, Becky, um, she’s fine. We’re just worried about this outage; it’s so strange.”
“Is that it?” Nicholas asked bluntly. If a stare could move people, Nicholas’ deep gaze would have thrown Brent ten feet from the door.
“Yeah, but if you hear about someone who has a car, please let me know.”
“Sure, will do,” Nicholas said and closed the door.
Becky smacked his shoulder and said, “Did you have to be so rude?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I did, but I will have to thank him. His questions about a car jogged my memory.”
“Glad to see you can find the positives in things,” Becky said and headed back to the kitchen.
“Don’t you want to hear what it is?”
“I don’t need to ask. I’ve known you for eighteen years; I know you’re going to tell me.”
He stepped into the kitchen and grabbed her tightly; her spiritedness often turned him on.
She pulled away and said, “No, not going to happen.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Where to?”
“Your parents’ house.”
“My parents, that’ll take you an hour or more walking.”
“It’ll take me thirty minutes on my mountain bike, but if my hunch is right, it’ll only take me ten minutes to drive home.”
“What?”
“Your dad has that old Dodge Dart in his spare garage space. I think whatever has happened seems to have destroyed sensitive circuitry, and that old 1963 Dart doesn’t have anything like that. I’m willing to wager, and you know I’m not a betting man, that his old car will work.”
San Diego, CA
With the best explanation for the outage given to her, Bryn decided she better start looking towards getting supplies, as she had exactly nothing. Not one to have enough food to get her through a week, she was a bit freaked out by the possibility of what she was told. If nothing ever worked again, what did that mean? The concept seemed so foreign. She had never given something like this a thought, not even a little bit. Like most people, she went about her life living day to day, only thinking ahead enough to schedule her next outing with friends.
“We’re going to need more food,” Bryn said, looking at the three cans of Campbell’s tomato soup, half-eaten box of Wheat Thins, four packages of ramen noodles, and assorted bags of potato and tortilla chips. Her refrigerator was no better.
Sophie held it open, looking for something to eat. “I’m so hungry, but nothing looks good.”
Bryn, upset by not having anything, looked at Sophie. “Hey, don’t stand there with the door open. You’re letting out the cool air.”
Sophie shut it and snottily said, “There’s nothing in there anyway. Let’s go to the store and get some stuff, then.”
“We’re going to have to. Come on, let’s go,” Bryn said, grabbing her jacket.
Sophie was right behind her, hoodie in hand to keep her warm against the cool December late afternoon. She was an inch taller than her older sister, almost five foot seven inches, with shoulder-length brown hair, which was thick and typically pulled back. She kept her natural color as compared to Bryn, who dyed her hair blonde. While proclaiming she wasn’t a victim to style or fashion, she followed the tight-knit regime of the supposed revolt against it. Most of her clothes were vintage, all purchased from consignment or Salvation Army stores, makeup was kept at a minimum, and her hair kept as natural as possible. Bryn didn’t care much for this look, but she was happy that Sophie hadn’t gone over the edge and begun wearing patchouli.
“So where should we go?” Sophie asked.
“There’s a grocery store down the street,” she answered as they were walking down the stairs outside her apartment.
At the bottom were several men, twenty-something, smoking and laughing.
“Where you off to, Bryn?” one man, Latino looking, asked.
“To the store.”
“Cool, can you grab me a pack of smokes?” another white man asked. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some cash.
Bryn passed them, turned, and the cash in the man’s hand got her attention. She suddenly realized that she didn’t have a lot of money and that with the power down, she wouldn’t be able to use her credit card.
Sophie walked between the men and grabbed his cash and asked, “What kind?”
“Marlboro Reds. So, what’s your name again?” the white man asked.
“I’m Sophie, you?”
“Dylan.”
“I’m Alberto,” the Latino man said.
“Hey, Alberto,” Sophie said with a flirtatious tone.
“And I’m Craig,” the third guy said.
Bryn brushed by them all and ran back up to her apartment to get what cash she had hidden. She dashed inside, opened her jewelry box and pulled out a small stack of bills. She counted it, and to her dismay, it came to only three hundred and fifty-three. That would get her somewhere, but she knew not far enough. Not wanting to waste time, she raced back out. When she
hit the stairs, she saw Sophie smoking, but it wasn’t a cigarette.
“Seriously?” she blurted out.
“You go ahead. I’m going to hang here,” Sophie said, then took another hit off the joint.
“Not happening,” Bryn said as she grabbed Sophie by her arm and pulled her up.
“Hey, I’m just having a bit of fun.”
“Come on, Bryn, she just wants to party,” Alberto barked.
“Not now she doesn’t,” Bryn shot back at him.
All three men began to chide Bryn as she walked away grumbling something unintelligible.
“I love you, sis, but you can be a real pain in my ass,” Sophie said.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Why are you being so…irritating?”
“I’m not.”
“Then why the rush to go to the store? You’re on edge. This is cool. Finally the system is down. Now maybe we can get back to the way humans were supposed to be. I kinda dig it. Look, people are out talking and kids are playing, riding their bikes instead of having their heads in an iPad.”
“This isn’t normal. I went through the blackout a few years ago; that was cool. This is different; something else is going on. The cars don’t work, fuck, nothing works.”
They were now on the main sidewalk along Genesee Avenue. There they saw the results of the outage. Cars lying still, left by their occupants hours ago after they realized they weren’t going to start and no one was coming to help them. Many had their hoods up and trunks open. People were milling around outdoors and the sounds of talking, yelling, and laughter echoed from the small apartment complex. Both Bryn and Sophie were looking around in wonderment at it all, their senses taking in everything in front of them, and they didn’t hear the patter of feet behind them until it was right on top of them.
Bryn spun around, ready to fight, a small canister of pepper spray held out.
“Whoa!” Matt called out, holding his hands up. He had stopped in his tracks upon seeing the pepper spray.
“You scared the shit out of us!” Bryn exclaimed.
“Sorry, I saw you guys leaving and I thought I’d tag along.”
“Sure,” Bryn said, as she turned and began to walk again.
They talked about the outage and the possibility of it being what Matt thought it was. Sophie continued to expose her belief that it was a good thing to destroy the overly materialistic and self-absorbed society so that a balance could be reestablished.
Bryn thought her sister was naïve and openly stated it.
“When did you become such a goddamn hippie?” Bryn asked.
“What?”
“Yeah, you’re the perfect example of the pampered and clueless generation that wants everything that gave you safety and all the comforts that you enjoy to just go away. It’s foolish and stupid.”
“Foolish and stupid? This coming from the princess who cares about her looks and her perfect blonde hair.”
“I care about how I look. I don’t go out of my way to make a statement about looks then make sure I have a specific look. So much talk about judgment from your type and all you do is judge,” Bryn shot back.
“You know, if this is what I have to deal with, I’ll just go back and party with those guys. I don’t need this shit.”
Bryn stopped and grabbed Sophie. Matt kept his mouth shut and observed the siblings’ fight in fascination.
“I love you, but I need you to wake the fuck up. This isn’t right and what you think is so cool can become fucking really bad.”
“You’re such a stress monster, always have been,” Sophie responded as she jerked her arm away and continued to walk.
Bryn jogged up to her and again stopped her. “Let’s agree to this. I’ll stop talking, you stop talking, and let’s get some groceries and go home.”
Sophie looked at her and nodded in agreement.
Matt came jogging up and said, “Hey, guys, this doesn’t look good.”
All turned their attention to the mob and violent activity occurring at the grocery store a hundred yards ahead of them.
Bryn and Sophie had been so enthralled with their petty fight they didn’t notice what was going on around them.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bryn asked.
“Looks like everyone else had the same idea we had,” Matt said.
“Is this what happens in all your sci-fi movies?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Matt answered.
“What should we do?” Sophie asked, a tinge of fear in her voice as she watched people running around. Screams and yelling now filled their ears.
“We have to eat. Let’s go,” Bryn said and began to march towards the chaos.
The closer they got to the parking lot of Vons supermarket, the greater the chaos came into sharp relief. People were dashing in and out of the smashed glass doors along the store frontage. Yelling and cries of panic filled the open air as they drew closer and closer.
An elderly woman came rushing out of the store with a half-full cart when two teenage boys ran over to her. One punched her in the face while the other grabbed the cart. The teen thugs had been waiting for the opportunity to prey upon someone and knew the woman was an easy target. The woman cried out after being punched in the face, stumbled and fell to the hard pavement. With a look of terror on her face, she reached out in vain to stop her attackers, but her small attempt was no match for the young men. Both teens were laughing as they charged ahead in Bryn’s direction with the cart of food.
Seeing this enraged Bryn. As if on autopilot she ran up to them and said, “Hey, douche bags!” She leveled her pepper spray at one and pressed the button. A long stream burst out, hitting the teen pushing the cart in the face. Screaming out in pain, he let go of the cart and began to wipe his eyes frantically. The second teen, seeing his friend hurt and Bryn turning towards him ran off, leaving his friend behind. Bryn walked up to the teen still crying out in pain, and kicked him in the crotch as she screamed, “Fucking piece of shit!”
The teen howled in pain as he crumpled to the ground.
Just for good measure, she pointed the spray and hit him again.
Sophie and Matt came running up behind her, shocked at her prowess and fearless engagement of the two teens.
“Holy shit, Bryn that was badass!” Sophie bellowed with pride.
Bryn ignored her and jogged over to the elderly woman and helped her up. “You okay?”
“Thank you, thank you.”
As Bryn was showing charity to this woman, people still came pouring out of the store, pushing carts or carrying what they could in their arms.
“Bring her cart over!” Bryn ordered Matt.
He briskly walked over and gave it to her. “Here.”
The woman took it and said, “God bless you!”
Bryn cracked a slight smile, turned to Sophie and Matt and said, “Let’s go shopping.”
San Felipe, Mexico
“No, no, no!” Michael screamed, and then opened his one good eye. He blinked repeatedly, and when his vision focused, he found that he was no longer on the beach. He was in a darkened room, lying on a bed. This alarmed him. He sat up, but the pain suddenly reminded him of his wounds.
Something scurried to his right.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
A giggle was the only response.
“Who is that?”
Again a giggle was the answer.
“Hey, come here, please.” Michael beckoned from the bed, knowing there was a small child there.
A small black-haired girl poked her head from behind a chair in the corner. She giggled loudly and resumed hiding.
“Little girl, please talk to me. Where am I?”
“Maria, donde estas?” a voice blared out from the other room. Soon the bedroom door opened and there stood the source of the voice, a short and burly man.
“Maria, no!”
The little girl squealed and ran out of the room.
“Mister, please help
me. Where am I?”
“You’re awake, I see, bueno,” the man said.
Michael could barely make out the almost black silhouette of the man. The light from behind the man hid his finer features.
“Did you find me?” Michael asked.
“No, my son did. You were not in good shape, my friend,” the man answered with a thick accent.
Michael looked around the sparsely lit room. “Where am I?”
“My house, senor.”
“Where, though, what city?”
“San Felipe.”
“United States?”
“Ha, no, senor, you’re in Mexico.”
Michael grimaced when a sharp pain rose from the back of his head. He lay back down and rested his head in the feather-down pillow.
“My wife cleaned your wounds. Are you in some type of trouble?”
“Did you contact the police?”
“No policia, my friend, you’re safe here.”
“Why?”
“You look like a nice man, no need to involve the federales or local policia. Let’s say I don’t want to see them either.”
Michael nodded. “Gracias for your help.”
“Are you hungry?” the man asked.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
“I hope you like tacos de cabeza.”
“Sure, anything sounds good.”
“What’s your name, senor?”
Michael had to think for a second, but it came to him. “Michael.”
“Mucho gusto, Michael, my name is Jose. Welcome to my casa.”
“Thank you, Jose.”
“I’ll be back with some food,” Jose said and closed the door, leaving Michael in the darkened room.
The only light present in the room came through a slit in the blinds. It cast a long beam of light on the wall and illuminated a crucifix.
Michael stared at the cross with the crucified body of Jesus on it. A feeling that he’d been blessed in this particular situation came over him. He wasn’t a deeply religious man that he could remember, but having Jose and his family find him seemed perfect. Not knowing why he was on the beach and where he suffered his wounds led him to believe that he might not be a good guy, so to speak. If the police had found him, he’d probably be in jail, and Mexican jails weren’t the luxury accommodations their American counterparts were.
The Defiant: Grid Down Page 4
