“Whayoudoing?” she mumbled.
“Grabbing these blankets. Might need them.”
She blinked hard to banish the last of her sleep. “Dad, we can’t just steal their blankets.”
“They’re cheap. They get a few people every once in a while who do this, and it’s built into the cost. And yeah, normally I wouldn’t be that guy, but this time I’m going to. Get up. We’re grabbing yours, too.”
For a moment he thought she’d keep protesting, but something came over her face. Maybe it was the memory of the plane crash the day before, or maybe their conversation with Gary at lunch. She rose silently and got dressed, and he folded her sheets and blanket into neat, tight little squares.
He’d only booked the one night, and there was no need to check out. He took the stolen hotel room items to the car quickly, hugging them tight to his chest against the rain, and soon they were back on the road. But he didn’t make for the freeway. Instead he turned west, heading deeper into town.
“Where are we going?” said Piper.
“Walmart. There’s one thing we need that we don’t have. Coats. Didn’t pack them, because I wasn’t expecting…all of this.” He waved his hand vaguely at the windshield, which was covered by a torrent of water the wipers couldn’t begin to stave off, even though he had them full on.
Piper didn’t argue. She was being very compliant, and it worried him. Not that he wanted her arguing with him at every turn, but he didn’t want her to be miserable, either. Bad moods rarely helped anything, even in bad situations. And people who let sadness and grief bottle up often let them out at the worst possible time.
“How about some music?” he said, trying to sound cheerful. He clicked the radio on and pushed the scan button. Station after station was static. Finally he got a signal—but it was a news station, not music.
—the government now reporting that the effects of the solar flare are much worse than previously anticipated. All flights are grounded indefinitely. All citizens are urged to stay in their homes and conserve drinking water until the extent of the disaster has been—
His hand darted to the dial and twisted it all the way left. Silence settled once more. “Maybe no radio just now,” he muttered. Piper stared out the window again.
* * *
Walmart was berserk. The moment he pulled into the parking lot, Alex strongly considered turning around and heading right back to the freeway again. Every parking space was taken, so eventually he just took a handicapped spot. It gave him a momentary twinge of guilt, but no one was paying attention, and he knew exactly what he’d come here to get. They’d only be there a minute.
He realized his mistake once he got inside. If the parking lot was full, the store was stuffed to the gills. They actually had to fight their way through the crowd, and Alex wrapped a protective arm around Piper’s shoulders as he shouldered his way through the other shoppers.
“Jesus,” said Piper, keeping her voice muted. “This is insane.”
Alex grunted. She was right. And the crowd itself wasn’t even what worried him. He could smell the fear in these people. It had finally started to hit home to many of them that this wasn’t just some storm, not just another power outage. He saw many eyes red and bloodshot, and many cheeks streaked with tears. Many here had lost someone—in plane crashes, in hospitals suddenly robbed of all power. Who knew how else. Hell, maybe the flare had even taken out electrical-only cars on the road.
These people were panicked, like a herd of cattle who smelled an approaching fire. And if this was how it was in a small town in Indiana, he could only imagine what the big cities looked like.
An earlier, half-formed decision solidified to unbreakable law in his mind: they wouldn’t be going within fifty miles of any city if they had any other choice.
Once they got into the aisles, things eased up a bit. He hadn’t bothered going for a shopping cart, and now he was glad. They wouldn’t have been able to force their way through this press. Everyone else was going for perishables—food, mostly, plus kerosene for lamps and stoves. They were able to get two thick, waterproof parkas with little trouble, and Alex picked up two sleeping bags as an afterthought. Then he left Piper at the head of an aisle and dived into the commotion, going for a flat of water. He was elbowed twice trying to extract it—not from malice, but because no one was paying him any attention. Everyone had eyes only for what they needed.
The line at the front of the store took a full hour. Only a handful of the checkout registers were manned, and Alex cursed the store’s management for not ordering in more cashiers. Then he realized—the manager probably had called in all the cashiers he had. But many of them wouldn’t have come in. He thought back to Jersey, and how empty the bus had been, and the driver telling them about everyone staying home.
At last they emerged into the rain and ran for the car, feeling like they’d barely escaped with their lives.
* * *
After gassing up, they hit the freeway again. Piper was more quiet and withdrawn than she’d been before, if that was possible. With an inward sigh, Alex realized he was going to have to have a talk with her. Not to pull her out of this funk—he doubted he even could—but, probably, to make it even worse. He’d tried to sugarcoat things, at least a little. That was no longer an option.
“Piper,” he began. “I need to tell you something.”
She only glanced at him for a second before looking back out the window. He put a hand on her shoulder, and this time she kept her gaze on him.
“This is worse than I thought. I think it’s worse than most people thought it was going to be. And so we need to treat it like what it is: an emergency. We can’t just treat this like some fun road trip, as much as I’d like to.”
“Okay,” she said, a little uncertainly.
“I don’t want to scare you. That’s not what I’m trying to do here. But I do need you to understand. This trip is going to be…dangerous. A lot more dangerous than I thought it would be, anyway.”
She glanced out the windshield. “I get it. This rain is absolutely insane.”
“Not the weather, Piper. I mean, yes, that’s something we have to think with, have to plan for. But we’ve got lots of gear. And I know how to deal with rain, with the wet and the cold, and even the snow, if it comes to that. Weather can change, but it can be predicted. And when it shows its face, you can plan for how to deal with it. Weather isn’t what’s going to be dangerous on this trip. It’s people.”
“Which people?”
His jaw clenched, hating what he knew he had to say, hating the effect he knew it would have on her. “All people. Everyone who’s not you and me. We might meet a few more people like Gary on the road, or Elizabeth and Jackie from back in New York.
“But people are starting to realize that this isn’t just some storm. This isn’t winter just having some last hurrah before it gives way to spring. It looks like there’s no power across the whole country, and I don’t know when that will come back—or if they can even fix it. People are scared, and soon they’re going to get more scared. When that happens, they’ll stop being nice. They’ll stop being helpful. They’ll be more interested in protecting what they’ve got, their food and their homes.”
“We’re not going to steal their food and their homes,” Piper said, frowning.
“Of course we’re not. But we won’t always get the chance to explain that to them. They’ll be scared, and so they’ll defend what they’ve got, because it’s safer to overreact than to let someone take what you need to survive.”
She shook her head. “So what, everyone’s going to shoot first and ask questions later? That’s stupid.”
But it’s what I would do, he thought to himself. Out loud, he only said, “Maybe yes. Maybe no. And not everyone will be that way. But we have to be cautious, too. If we want to stay safe, we have to act the same way as some of these people will. Assume that people might be dangerous, and be pleasantly surprised if they’re not.”
&nbs
p; “Dad, I think you’re over—”
“I’m not.” He glanced away from the road for just a second, meeting her eyes so she could see the severity in his. “I’m not overreacting. I’m doing what I have to do to keep you safe. To keep both of us safe. And I need you to listen to me. You can never leave my eyesight. And you can never let any stranger get within arm’s reach, not unless they’ve already proven that they’re safe. You can’t talk to anyone who’s not me. It’s the only way we can keep ourselves safe. And keeping you safe is my whole job right now. It’s the only thing I’m thinking about.”
He saw it then. Fear shone in her eyes, and her hands were trembling. His heart broke. The one thing he always wanted to do as a father was to make his daughter feel safe. From her childhood to an adolescence he wasn’t quite ready for, it had been his number one priority. Every tragic news story had a soft, gentle explanation, a reason why that could never happen to them. Now the game had changed, and he’d been the one to change it. Now he was the one making her afraid.
But keeping her alive, he told himself.
Piper turned away, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
Alex hated to press her, but he had to. “Do you understand, Piper?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice impossibly small. He pressed the car on, through the rain and the small bits of hail that were once again falling out of the sky.
CHAPTER 8
Once Cameron was satisfied that the house hadn’t taken any damage, she unloaded the supplies from the back of the Jeep. When Bettie started to help, Cameron insisted she could handle it. But Bettie turned out to be even more stubborn, and by the time they were done, Cameron had to admit she was grateful for the extra hands. Everything was stowed neatly away in the kitchen cabinets and cupboard. To celebrate, she broke open a bottle of wine as promised—though not the most expensive. That was for when Alex and Piper arrived.
Cameron started a fire in the hearth. As they rested in the living room sipping at their glasses, her thoughts drifted to Alex and Piper again and again. Her phone had charged in the car, but she had no signal in the cabin. That, like the missing radio reception from before, was unusual. And it meant she couldn’t even try to call him to see where he was. Were they still driving? Or had the airlines decided to resume flights? Maybe he’d caught a flight somewhere, Ohio, or Indiana, even, if they’d driven that far. Maybe he and Piper were on their way home, and they’d come driving up tomorrow.
Or maybe they were in the air when another burst of radiation hit, and took the planes down again.
She shuddered and took a gulp of wine. No. That was impossible. Alex would never risk getting in a plane, not after flights had been downed all across the country. He and Piper were still driving.
Unless something had happened on the road.
Her jaw was clenched tight, and she forced herself to relax. Worrying was useless—even if she was right, she couldn’t do anything about it now.
Bettie must have caught her mood. The older woman looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes. “Listen, sweetie. I see you trying to fight back something on your mind. That ain’t gonna work with just you sitting here doing nothing.”
Cameron shrugged. “As opposed to what? Hitting the road and hoping I cross their path while I’m heading east?”
“No. But you gotta do something to keep your mind busy, or you’ll eat yourself alive.”
“All I’ve got is this fire and this wine. Thanks, Bettie, but I’ll be fine.”
“That’s not all you got. But for now, you should get some rest. We both should. That drive got my nerves all shot to hell. Tomorrow, we’ll see what else we can do to get your mind off it.”
The sun had set long ago, so Cameron agreed easily enough. She feared she might have a restless night, plagued by thoughts and dreams of Alex and Piper. But the mountain road must have taken more of a toll than she thought, because she slept like a log and woke up long after the sun had already risen. The smell of coffee filled her nostrils as she sat up and stretched, and when she made her way to the kitchen, she saw that Bettie had put a pot on.
“Morning, sunshine. Get some of this in you.”
Cameron took the cup gratefully, poured in some creamer and sipped. It wasn’t until halfway through her first cup that she took stock of Bettie’s clothes. The older woman had well-worn jeans and a flannel shirt on, and a pair of thick leather gloves tucked into her back pocket. Cameron raised an eyebrow.
“Planning on going somewhere?”
“Not very far. And you’re underdressed. Today, you and I are going to go tackle that garden out back.”
A wry smile crossed Cameron’s lips. “That’s your plan to get my mind off Alex and Piper? Gardening?”
“If it helps clear your head, so much the better. But the truth is, I can’t stand to see a good garden go to waste, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to bust my ass to fix your back yard and you’re not even going to help me.”
That forced a laugh, and once Cameron had had her coffee—two cups, the second with just a splash of Kahlúa—she got on more workmanlike clothing. Outside, the storm had finally abated, though the grey sky above threatened more rain, and the wind was still chilly. Cameron rubbed her arms vigorously as Bettie walked around, inspecting the earth.
“Shovels and stuff are over in the garage,” said Cameron.
“I saw them. We aren’t ready for them yet. Can’t just start tearing up the ground without a plan. After all, that’s what you did in the first place.” A quick flash of white teeth showed Cameron the words weren’t meant as harsh as they sounded.
Cameron shook her head with a chuckle. “Fine, fine. Just tell me what you need done.”
Bettie did. She walked up and down the garden like a soldier on patrol, pointing out which plants should be torn out entirely and which might be saved. She shook her head and clucked her tongue at rows that had been planted too close to each other and would have to be torn up, and pointed at how they could have more plants around the edges of the garden, and not just in the middle, to use the space more efficiently.
“One problem,” said Cameron, as Bettie pointed out a row of rosebushes that were going to get the chop. “We don’t have more roses to replace these. All the seeds downstairs are vegetables.”
“Oh, I know,” said Bettie. “And so much the better. Roses look nice, but they’ve got no use. I always found I cared more about my plants, put more effort into taking care of them, when I knew I was gonna get a meal out of it at the end.”
Cameron smiled. And she tried to banish the nagging thought at the back of her mind—the thought that sounded suspiciously like Alex, whispering that maybe they’d need to grow food if the storms from this flare kept up.
Once Bettie had finished surveying the ground, she and Cameron went into the garage to get the tools. And just as they reemerged into the back yard, the sun broke through the clouds at last, shining brightly down as they got to work. Soon Cameron had shed her flannel overshirt and was working in her black tank top. As she bent over to drag some particularly stubborn roots from the ground, Bettie happened to glance over.
“What’s that?”
With raised eyebrows, Cameron looked down. The edge of her shirt had lifted up to reveal her tattoo, just above her belt line on the left side of her flat stomach. She traced it idly with her finger.
“It’s called the Tree of Life,” she said. “Though there’s another name for it—cann something. I don’t remember. It’s Celtic.”
“I can see that,” said Bettie. “What’s it mean?”
Cameron swallowed. But it was fine. Remembering what it meant didn’t mean she had to think back to why she got it in the first place. She spoke by rote, like she was reciting a history lesson. “It’s a symbol of balance. Harmony. The tree grows up, its branches reaching for the sky, but eventually they return to the earth, mingling with the roots, which spring up into the tree again. Death and rebirth. Growth and decay
. Everything’s a cycle. And, I guess, everything’s connected.”
“Well, that’s nice. I’m glad you actually know what it means. Not like those idiot college kids who get Chinese letters tattooed on their backs, then find out it actually says ‘dishwasher’ or something.”
To her surprise, Cameron barked a laugh, and her dark mood vanished. “No, I knew going in. Alex has one, too. It was his idea, actually.”
“Same thing?”
“Yep. Same spot.”
“Hey.”
The new voice made them both jump, and they turned to the fence that rimmed the yard. There was Bill, leaning on the fence’s top spar and chewing something. Cameron felt her hackles rise, and she tugged the hem of her shirt down until it covered her bare sliver of midriff.
“Bill. What do you want?”
“Gonna have a meeting down by the gatehouse. All the other cabin owners are coming.”
Cameron barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. “All of them, huh? You’re telling me every other cabin owner is here?”
He scowled a bit at that. “Course not. But them that is here, is coming. Why don’t you come on down?”
“I think we’ll skip it,” said Cameron firmly. But Bettie put a hand on her arm.
“It’s all right, Cameron. If there’s other people around, I’d like to meet them.”
She still felt uncomfortable under Bill’s languid stare, but Cameron shrugged. “All right. If you want to go.”
“I was only inviting the cabin owners…” Bill began.
That settled it. “Bettie’s with me. She’s coming. And we’ll be happy to come. Let’s go, Bettie.”
Survival EMP (Book 1): Solar Reboot Page 7
