The door to the studio swung open, and Aphrodite stuck her head out. “Sorry to interrupt your little powwow, but the song’s almost over. The two of you should probably get in here.”
“Sure thing,” Nate said. The intern retreated, and he fixed me with an incredulous stare. “She’s been working here for five minutes, and she’s already bossing us around. I can’t deal. I know you’re a feminist, but—”
I flicked the shell of his ear. “Don’t even try to finish that sentence. Come on. Let’s get in there before our new boss fires us.”
We left Kenny to manage the controls and joined Aphrodite in the booth. Before I could sit down in front of the mic, she wrung my hand so fiercely that the bones in my wrist cracked.
“Georgie,” she said. “Nice to see you again. I love the hair! I always thought about dying mine purple, but it’s already red, so I’d have to bleach it and then dye it, and it would probably be a big mess and a waste of time. Did you shave the side yourself?”
“Nate did it actually,” I told her, settling into one of the plush red rolling chairs that we kept in the studio. He caught my eye across the table and made a face. “Have a seat, Aphrodite. Kenny’s got the countdown for us.”
Through the window, Kenny held up five fingers and put them away one by one. When the last one joined his fist, I leaned toward the pop filter.
“Gooooood morning, Denver, and welcome back to QRX First Watch,” I crooned into the mic, dropping my voice into a smoother, more personable version of its original. “I’m your host, Georgie Fitz, and joining us for today’s Dirty on the Thirty is our own Nate Vega, who you know and love—”
“What’s up, Denver?” Nate interjected.
“—and our new intern, Aphrodite,” I went on. “Before you call in, folks, she is not the Greek goddess of love and beauty in disguise. I already asked.”
“Sorry about that,” Aphrodite chimed in.
“The subject for today’s Dirty is gun control,” I said. “What with the unfortunate and tragic incidents that have occurred in the recent history of this country, the question remains: Should the average American have the power to purchase these weapons? Aphrodite, why don’t you start us off?”
Aphrodite cleared her throat. “Well, I’m a pacifist—”
Automatically, Nate groaned. “Here we go. There’s always one hippy-dippy peacemonger who thinks we can save the world with positive energy and chakra candles.”
Aphrodite pursed her lips, cocking her head and aiming a stare at Nate like a loaded gun. “If you’d let me finish. I’m a pacifist, but my motto has always been ‘Do no harm. Take no shit.’ That being said, gun control isn’t a question of banning all firearms like most people think. People should be allowed to protect their homes and families with a modest handgun, but when it comes to semi-automatic rifles, it’s a different story. The average American doesn’t need high power weapons.”
“When was America ever about ‘need?’” Nate countered. “We want guns, so we have them. I’d agree that the process of procuring high power weapons is a bit lax—”
“A bit?” Aphrodite repeated.
“But there’s no point in banning rifles entirely,” Nate continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“No point?” Aphrodite said. “What about preventing another mass shooting?”
“People are going to get their hands on guns no matter what,” Nate said. “Even if they have to go through illegal means. There might come a time when we really do need them, and I’d rather be safe than sorry. All I’m saying is that when the zombie apocalypse rolls around, I’d want that AR-15 to blow a few faces off.”
“Okay,” I said before Aphrodite could jump in again, her face reddening with rage. “Let’s take it back to examine these points one by one. Then we’ll take a few calls from our listeners.”
I left the station early, unable to take much more of Nate and Aphrodite’s bickering. While it was great to have representation for both sides of a debate, a lot of the useful information that I wanted to spread to the general public got lost in the heat of disagreement. Dirty on the Thirty was a segment that I’d specifically tailored for intelligent, opinionated conversations, and I didn’t want it to devolve into a verbal ping-pong match on par for drama with one of the various Real Housewives reality shows. Either Nate and Aphrodite needed to learn how to argue effectively, or they’d both be out of a job.
In the stairway of the apartment building, I ran into a short, olive-skinned woman with smooth black hair. I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Nita! Crap, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot to call you earlier. I have to cancel our dinner plans tonight.”
Nita was a few years younger than me, but as a first-year med student, she had more maturity and determination than most of my and Jacob’s mutual friends. She hoisted an armful of anatomy textbooks higher in her grasp and shrugged. “No big deal. I should put in some extra study time anyway. You got a hot date or something?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said. “Jacob’s got a night at the park planned.”
“Aw, are you going to share a funnel cake on the ferris wheel?”
“Hell no. I want my own funnel cake.”
Nita laughed, dislodging a binder from her grasp. It hit the floor and spat notes down the stairs. “Damn it.”
“I got it.” I trotted down the steps to collect the papers then tucked them back into the binder. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, perching her books between her torso and the wall of the stairway. “Is everything okay with you and Jacob?”
“Of course. Why?”
“The walls are thin, Georgie.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, a nervous habit from childhood that I’d yet to kick. “You heard us yelling at each other last night.”
“I think the whole floor heard you.”
“Ugh.” I slumped against the wall, the safety handrail jutting into my side. “We keep arguing about stupid stuff. Last night’s fight started because he didn’t squeeze the toothpaste to the top of the tube.”
“What an animal.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I told her. “I love him, you know? But ever since we got engaged, I keep noticing more and more of his flaws. Then I think to myself, is this really the guy I want to be with for the rest of my life?”
“Well, divorce is one in two these days, so odds are it won’t be for the rest of your life.”
I looked up at her from the step below. “Usually, I’m all for the dry humor and sarcasm, but I need some rom-com level bridesmaid enthusiasm and reassurance from you right now.”
“Right. Sorry.” She shifted her stance, perched a hand on her hip, and pursed her lips in her best impression of a duck. “It’s just nerves, Georgiana! Don’t you worry. Jacob is such a wonderful guy. And he’s hot. And he’s conveniently rich.”
I rolled up a page from her notes and swatted her playfully over the head. “Not helping.”
She snatched the paper back and smoothed it out. “I’m kidding. Seriously, you and Jacob are good together. You’ve told me a million times that his quirks even yours out. You fell in love with him for a reason. Try to remember why.”
I sighed as I held the door to our floor open for Nita. “You’re right. If he’s being clingy, it usually means that he thinks I’m pulling away.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess we’ll find out tonight.”
In my book, it was a perfect night to spend at the park. The wind was chilly enough to justify the purchase of hot chocolate, but not so cold that it was miserable. Jacob and I held hands as we strolled through the park, smiling as little kids whacked moles and raced horses at the brightly lit arcade games. Their parents stood farther back, supervising at a distance. Most of them nursed a cheap beer. Overhead, the thrilling hoots and hollers of the roller coaster riders pierced the air. The lights were too bright to see the stars, but a radiant silver sliver of the crescent moon decorate
d the navy sky. We rode the merry-go-round and the tilt-a-whirl, playing like middle schoolers, but when we got on the ferris wheel and it took us above the bustling crowds where no one was watching, Jacob couldn’t help but take advantage of his captive audience.
“So you want a fall wedding.”
I kept my eyes trained on the horizon, trying to ignore the ominous creaking sounds that emanated from the swinging hinges of our pod. “It’s my favorite time of year. We could have the reception outside.”
“What is with you and the cold?” Jacob asked, trapping my knees between his. “An outdoor wedding in October? All of our guests would freeze.”
“It doesn’t have to be October,” I countered. “September would be nice too. Just as long as the leaves have already started to change. Those are the colors I want. And no one’s going to freeze. They make space heaters for a reason.”
“You want orange as your wedding color? My mother’s going to die.”
“This isn’t your mother’s wedding,” I said, a sharp edge to my tone. “And I didn’t say orange. I said fall colors. Hues that remind me of autumn. Red, gold, brown—”
“Brown?”
“Yes, brown.”
The ferris wheel jolted to a halt as our pod approached the top. We swung a little back and forth. I peered over the edge, but Jacob pushed me against the padded cushion. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m going to jump.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“I laugh in the face of danger.”
“Okay, Simba,” Jacob countered. “But I like having you alive. Why the hell did we get on this thing? I hate heights.”
“You thought it would be romantic to kiss at the top.”
“I was wrong,” he said. “It smells like corn dogs up here.”
“Oh, sorry. That’s me.”
He cracked a grin at the joke as the ferris wheel lurched into motion again. As it rounded the top and floated toward the other side, Jacob traced the bones of my knee through my jeans.
“So,” he said tentatively. “Are you going to invite your parents?”
My spine stiffened. “What?”
“To the wedding,” Jacob clarified. “They should be there. It’s a huge step, Georgie. Don’t you think your parents ought to be around on the most important day of your life?”
The ferris wheel was a trap. It stopped and started to let people on and off at the bottom, the pace at which we neared the exit infinitely too slow. The rickety metal contraption wasn’t a fun romantic ride. It was a way for men to ensnare their girlfriends—sorry, fianceés—in order to talk about things that didn’t need to be addressed. Not now and not ever.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” I said. “I’m not in contact with my parents.”
“I haven’t even met them—”
“Because I don’t talk to them,” I told him as we bumped another space closer to the exit of the ride. “Why are you so caught up on this? Not everyone has a family like yours, Jacob.”
“I just think that this is a perfect opportunity to reach out to them,” he pressed. “Don’t you agree? It would be a gesture of decency—”
I clapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop. Okay? Just stop. I don’t speak to my parents for a reason. They will not be at our wedding. It’s not a discussion. It’s fact. Leave it alone.”
We finally bounced down to the platform below, and I jumped out so quickly that the ride attendant, a gangly boy with greasy black hair, had to steady the swinging pod so that Jacob could exit too.
“Hey.” Jacob caught me and spun me around in front of a stand selling snow cones. “I’m sorry, all right? Can we just have a nice evening for once? I feel like all we do is bicker with each other.”
“Because you keep bringing up things that make me want to fight with you,” I said, crossing my arms. “I don’t want to repeat myself once I’ve told you something.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s my fault. I haven’t been listening to you.”
“No, you haven’t.”
A yell of joy echoed overhead as a roller coaster zoomed over top of us. Jacob glanced skyward and grinned. “Are you ready?”
“For what?” I asked.
“I promised you that I’d ride the coaster until I puked.” Jacob winked and coaxed my arms out of their taut positioning. There was that charm I loved, the brazen confidence that made me fall for him in the first place. “And I don’t break my promises.”
Chapter Two
My pulse raced as quickly as the coaster sped along the tracks. Something was terribly wrong. My head roared with the screams of our companions and the rumble of the wheels against the track. The power to the city was out as far as I could see, and the moon overhead wasn’t enough to illuminate our path. Without light, there was no telling which way we were headed next. We blasted through a corkscrew at top speed and hit another loop, but as the coaster train headed up the next hill, gravity worked its magic. The train slowed, coasting toward the top of the hill, but at the peak, we stopped and began to roll backward.
The shrill screams increased, and I crushed my eyes shut as the coaster reversed its route. Jacob let out a yell that tugged at my heartstrings. I had practically forced him to get on the ride. He had never been a fan of roller coasters, and now it was my fault that he was experiencing the one thing that he feared the most. Thankfully, the train lost momentum at a rapid pace. It rolled up the hill that we had just come from, switched direction, and rolled forward again. As it continued to trundle back and forth, the riders stopped screaming, until we finally came to rest in the valley between the hills.
I groped for Jacob in the darkness. “Babe, are you okay?”
I wasn’t the only one checking in on their loved ones. Worried murmurs broke out all along the coaster, filling the air with a buzz of concern. Some of the younger kids were crying. I strained to catch a sound from Jacob, anything that would let me know he was all right, but all I heard were the rapid shallow breaths of hyperventilation.
“Jacob,” I said firmly. My eyes started to adjust to the pitch black night. His ghostly fingers gripped the handles of his harness tightly enough to cut off the circulation. I pried open the hand closest to me. His fingers were freezing. “Jacob, breathe. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”
But panic had begun to set in on the train. Voices lifted into the air.
“Help! Help us!”
“We’re stuck!”
“I’m going to sue this place for everything they’re worth.”
“Don’t listen to them,” I ordered, tightening my grip on Jacob’s hand. “I’m sure it was just a fluke. The fire department will come and get us out soon, okay?” He stared straight ahead, gasping for air. “Jacob, I need you to talk to me. Look at me. Look at me!”
When I pinched the skin on the back of his hand between my finger and forefinger, his head jerked in my direction, and he peered over the cumbersome neon-green harness. His eyes were impossibly wide, pupils blown so big that his irises looked black.
“Good,” I breathed. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Your neck maybe?”
He shook his head.
“Good,” I said again. “Can you talk to me?”
His lips parted. A sprinkle of powdered sugar, left over from our indulgement in funnel cakes, dusted his top lip. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. I leaned forward, struggling against my harness to catch his question.
“What the hell is happening?” he whispered.
It was the question on everybody’s mind. The world had gone dark but not silent. Crash after crash echoed from the nearby interstate, the crunch of fenders unmistakeable. People cried and yelled and spoke over one another. Other than that, everything else was eerily quiet. The whir of the theme park attractions had died off. The arcade games quit their eerie tinkly tunes. The buzz of the street lights was noticeably absent. Phones didn’t ring and car engines didn’t turn over. Above all, the cold blac
k night pressed in on all sides.
“I have no idea,” I whispered back.
The worst part was the waiting. The minutes ticked by, and no one came out to tell us what was happening. It was the type of situation that warranted an announcement over the ride’s audio system, but the speakers perched over the tracks remained silent. I knew enough about roller coasters to know that we shouldn’t have stopped anywhere other than one of the block brake platforms stationed throughout the ride. The coaster was programmed to land on those platforms in case of damage or system failure. The fact that we were stuck at the bottom of the track was a bad sign. Something had completely fried the coaster’s system, and from the looks of things, it had fried the rest of Denver too. My phone was inaccessible, tucked securely into the back pocket of my jeans to keep it from flying away during the ride. In the row in front of us, another guest managed to wiggle his iPhone free, but when he pressed the home button, the screen remained blank.
“My phone’s not working,” he called out to the rest of the train.
“Mine either!”
“Same up here.”
“Does anyone have the time?” I asked, keeping a firm grip on Jacob’s hand to let him know I was still with him.
“My watch is dead,” someone called back. “Anyone else?”
“Mine’s out too.”
“It’s ten to eight,” another voice, light and young—a little boy’s maybe—floated up from the front of the train.
“Your watch works? How?”
“It was my grandfather’s,” the boy replied. “It’s old. Mechanic. No electronic components.”
No electronic components. The kid had been the first to realize it, or at least the first to say it out loud. Someone pointed into the black sky.
“Look!”
Everyone’s heads tipped upward. Behind the clouds, a white light mushroomed in the atmosphere and radiated outward. It was almost as if the heavens were opening up, the world gone dark to call attention to their presence, but in all of those stories, the angels never showed up before the ultimate destruction of everything on earth.
Blackout: Book 0 Page 2
