The Gates_The Arrival

by Max Wyatt

  “Look, you know where Finn works. If he says it’s bad, it’s bad.”

  “Maybe he’s just playing a prank…” Harper’s voice trailed away. She suddenly felt very small. Very…unsure. She looked around her tiny apartment, at the new clothes half-strewn over the chair, flimsy delicate things that seemed fitting for the office at AIRS that seemed rather…useless right now. It looked like she was setting herself up to be fragile and the hammer was going to fall.

  “Finn doesn’t play pranks. You know that, Harper. Probably better than me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” she snapped, some things still hurting even after two years. Finn was a sore spot, a fresh wound, that had never healed. She glanced from the turned off TV to the kitchen to the ramen that congealed beside her.

  Harper stifled a scream.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The power is flickering again… The lights flickered on and off.”

  “Get out of there, Harper. Do as I say. I’m going to call you later, but I need to reach Dad. You know how hard he is to get.”

  It was crazy. Absolutely crazy. But stuff was adding up, and nothing was coming out right. The whole thing was crazy stupid. Erik was being…

  No. Erik was being serious. Not like him at all. Being serious didn’t mean he knew what he was talking about. Problem was, Finn did. Finn knew a lot more than he should have and any warning coming from him carried the added weight that he risked his job and even – possibly – charges against him for warning anyone with the advanced information he had. And no, Finn didn’t joke. Ever.

  “Okay, I’ll call Tara. I better go. My battery is almost dead. Erik…”

  She’d wanted to ask if everything was going to be okay, if he was going to be okay. It was typical of Erik, though; he wasn’t going to take his own advice until everyone else in the family was warned. Dad was very stubborn, and he would take a lot of convincing and that took time away from Erik taking care of himself. She wanted to warn him, to insist that he take care of himself first and foremost, but just like that he was gone and Harper was left staring at her phone.

  It was the same phone Tara had so effortlessly hijacked and tickled into submission. Erik was right about that, too. Tara might have money, but most of all, Tara made sense of these things, these electronic nightmares that plotted behind Harper’s back. Tara had friends who knew as much as Finn, or at least claimed to. She began dialing and hit disconnect before she finished the number.

  Screw this. I’m not calling. She’ll just hang up on me. Okay, I might even deserve it…a little. It just didn’t seem fair that she stood up in a fit of righteous indignation only to turn around, hat in hand and beg a favor.

  Grabbing a light jacket and her keys, Harper took a last look around her apartment. She felt like she should be…well, not shopping of all things. What if Erik were right? Shouldn’t she be…well…doing something more productive than buying a few bottles of water? There was part of her that was convinced that when she walked out that door and closed it behind her, that a part of her life was gone forever. She would be closing the door on the life she had and might not ever get it back again.

  She shook her head and headed out the door. This was being productive. The question was, would Tara play along? Would she laugh now that the skeptic was running scared?

  ***

  As it turned out, Tara already knew.

  Harper knocked at Tara’s door expecting the worst. They hadn’t had a fight in forever, and the last time, it had taken a triple fudge cake to break the barrier between them. She had no cake today, all she had was herself, which admittedly wasn’t much of prize. But Tara opened the door anyway and pulled her inside without a word. Her face was pale and drawn, and for a woman who quite rarely was not in motion, she was jittery by even her standards. In the background, Tara could hear CNN coming from the television.

  Tara slammed the door shut behind Harper and returned to the set, watching the news feed scroll across the neck of a reporter. Tara had one hand on her throat and one thumbing away at her phone. It kept chirping as more and more texts streamed through her chat programs.

  There was a chime Harper recognized from her phone when a text came in. Harper got one of those every day. Tara was getting them so close together the buzzers overlapped.

  Tara held up that same hand she’d held up on the sidewalk earlier that day. This time, Harper didn’t mind. She simply stood still and waited.

  The talking head on the TV was reassuring the audience that everything was normal.

  “They’re all lying,” Tara said before Harper could get out even a word. It was amazing how quiet and controlled she sounded. “We’re under attack.” Tara looked at her and the expression in her face unnerved Harper like nothing else had.

  Chapter Six

  Harper

  They took Tara’s SUV because it had gas. By this point Harper was on the verge of freaking out in a start-screaming-and-maybe-throwing-things kind of way. This couldn’t be happening. It absolutely could not be happening.

  Yet as they drove she couldn’t help but wonder just what she was so freaked out about. At the moment their neighborhood had power. She could see people moving in their houses, a tableau of open windows that gave glimpses into everyday lives. People watched TV. Ate. Argued. Made love. Life looked…somewhat normal.

  But it wasn’t.

  The parking lot was beyond full. The last time Harper had seen the store this crowded was before the hurricane last year. In fact, people were buying items then, much as they did now – cases of water disappeared into carts. Canned goods. Batteries. Only, things felt different this time. Before the hurricane the store had felt alive. Determined people talking to each other in aisles and at the checkout, comparing plans, deciding if boarding over the windows was overkill since hurricanes didn’t often hit New England and no one had seemed quite sure what to do. But they asked. And they listened. And they worked together.

  Today movements were furtive. Couples talked in whispers over carts, eyes sliding over each other’s purchases as if assessing, as if trying to decide whether they themselves were the only ones overreacting. There was even a more sinister feel, as if memorizing what your neighbor had. Even the children were muted, following uncertainly in the wake of parents with drawn faces who hustled them through the store as if danger lurked between the racks of clothes.

  The lights flickered. Every eye shot to the ceiling. Harper could almost feel the collective sigh of relief as things stayed on, though people moved now with more haste, wanting to get their purchases and get out. It was like flashing the lights at the theatre, a warning to return as quickly as possible or the show would go on without you.

  Harper and Tara each grabbed a cart by unspoken consent. With an eye on the dwindling stacks near the register, they both loaded up with cases of water bottles then looked at each other, eyes meeting and reflecting the war within themselves. To stick to the plan or to stick together.

  “I’ll go to camping supplies,” Harper said finally, making the decision for them. They’d discussed this in the car, who was more knowledgeable with what, how to divide the list.

  “I’ll meet you back at the registers.”

  Still they lingered, then started as one, moving in the exact same direction. Camping supplies were near electronics where the chargers were that Erik had talked about. They looked at each other and laughed. Harper felt some of the tension ease in her chest. “We’re being ridiculous.”

  But the uneasiness remained as someone shot past them with a cart headed straight for the door, bypassing the registers completely. Alarms blared, people in uniform moved. Behind them shouts erupted, followed by the clatter of canned goods as the cart was overturned, and the contents scattered in all directions.

  “We stay together,” Tara said softly, grabbing Harper’s arm. “I don’t care if it’s less efficient, we stay together.”

  Harper almost smiled, almost spoke the words that rose to he
r lips that would make a joke out of the fact that the ever type-A was making a case against efficiency, but the words died on her lips. The knot in her stomach turned some more, and she swallowed hard and nodded, not liking the way her hand shook as she grasped her cart and shoved it into motion. The fact was, there was too much to say.

  The crowds were in the grocery aisles. By cutting through women’s clothing they would get to where they needed to go much faster. Tara led the way, still efficient enough to be apparently plotting a course involving the straightest line with the least amount of human contact.

  She’s scared, Harper realized. She doesn’t trust the other shoppers in the store.

  From the registers there came shouts. Another argument starting.

  No, this wasn’t like the hurricane at all. This was more like a riot on the verge of starting.

  What if this isn’t a joke. What if Erik and Finn are right. What if…

  Harper reached out to grab Tara’s coat, pulling her to a stop at men’s wear. “We need clothes.”

  Tara rolled her eyes, impatient, angry. “Harper this is hardly the time—”

  “No. I mean…here. Look.”

  Someone had been setting up the fall displays. Flannel shirts. Warm vests. Heavy socks. The kind of gear you’d wear hunting.

  “It’s still summer…” Tara started to pull away. Harper stopped her.

  “It won’t be in a month.” Harper spoke through clenched teeth. So far, the clothing had been ignored. She found herself not wanting to call attention to this area.

  Harper could see her thinking about it. Calculating. Tara had her ‘chess face’ on – the one where she was figuring out all the angles, ten moves in advance. It wasn’t until she nodded and reached for a couple of shirts that Harper let out the breath she hadn’t even know she’d been holding. She’d been wanting reassurance, she realized. Wanting to be told that this whole thing was crazy and that this was only a fluctuation on the power grid that would be resolved in a day or two. Food, water, that could be justified. If the power went out, it would be good to have things that didn’t spoil, to have water should the city’s system go down. Stuff that they wouldn’t get around to using really, and that they could laugh about later when everything was back to normal.

  Tara buying men’s flannel shirts could only mean that the world was indeed coming to an end.

  “Hey…you’re joking, right?”

  But Tara only looked at her and added in some packages of heavy socks. “Where do you suppose they might have hiking boots?”

  “Tara, we live in the middle of a city. In Connecticut. Where are we going to use hiking boots?”

  Tara held up her phone. The screen was positively alive with messages. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to stay here.”

  From the front of the store there came a loud crash of a display falling over. Someone screamed.

  Harper swallowed hard, and found herself reaching for the coats. “Jackets too?” They were designed for hunting, for hiking and fishing and doing what sane people did on the weekends when they drove up to Maine to get away. Harper fingered the multiple pockets. It was the sort of thing her father would have laughed at as a mark of a city boy trying to be a woodsman. “You think they have these in women’s sizes?”

  “Have you ever seen outdoor stuff like this in the women’s section of this store?”

  “Point taken.”

  Another crash.

  They looked at each other. Without another word they headed for the shoe department.

  ***

  They wound up splitting up out of necessity. The crowd was growing more anxious. Tara wasn’t the only one preoccupied with her phone. A mother of five smacked her cart into Harper’s cart hard and barely seemed to notice. The children, ranging from three in diapers to two rather anxious looking preschoolers that hung off her, looked for all the world like a flock of ducklings following mama in hopes of making it to fresh water soon. The youngest looked at her solemnly from behind a pacifier with eyes that positively haunted Harper as she sought out battery operated lanterns. She managed to snag the last two, and almost came to blows with a sullen looking guy with a beer gut and pony tail who reached for the last one at the same moment as she did. Frightened, Harper backed away, finding to her surprise that she had no apologies for taking it. Something had clicked at some point inside her brain letting her know that this was survival now, plain and simple.

  It was a terrifying thought, one she would laugh over next week when all of this had blown over. She was ready to feel foolish later, prayed that she would. It would be better than feeling justified.

  She wheeled her cart out of there and fled before anyone could see her gathering tears.

  Tara was waiting for her up by the checkouts, but chaos reigned there too. The orderly crowds of quiet people had become more disorderly as time passed. People waited impatiently, shifting restlessly and eyeing the door more and more as time went by and the lines grew longer. Retired men with smocks that bore the word ‘security’ seemed almost a joke, especially when their ranks swelled, joined by pimpled teenagers still wearing the fluorescent vests they wore to snag carts in the parking lot. No one made a break for the door, but it was a matter of time, Harper thought as the lights flickered. The next time they went out, it would be all over.

  “Please, we cannot accept credit cards at this time. All transactions must be cash only!”

  The cry went out from the registers, a woman screaming the words, high-pitched voice rising to a wail, a plea begging people to understand. The crowd shifted, and the voices around rose, grew angrier. Harper could feel the shift and looked wildly at Tara who set her jaw and maintained her place in line behind her. She had cash, Harper knew, Nana’s gift, whatever was left of it.

  People started to break out of the line.

  The people at the doors tensed. Overhead the lights flickered.

  Harper kept one hand on her cart, and twisted, leaning in toward Tara. “Maybe we should go.”

  Tara’s face had gone pale, the hands gripping the cart handle showed white knuckles. “I am not a thief.”

  “I know you’re not. Tara, listen to me, we’re about three minutes away from a full on riot. Look…do you think they’re going to stop anyone?” She gestured at the lines of carts forming opposite the doors. The line of seniors and trainees seemed weak, pathetic against the forming mob. “Maybe we should just—”

  “I am not a thief.”

  There would be no moving her. But when the line broke, what would happen here at the registers? Would people just leave, or would they go after the cashiers? The lines between the registers were claustrophobia-inducing. Carts pressed in tight on all sides. Frantic swarms of humanity that murmured and shuffled uneasily. Making decisions, she realized, like she and Tara were. Deciding here in this moment who they were. What they were.

  Civilization is only a veneer, isn’t it? She thought about how she’d grabbed the last lantern. About the way her heart had been in her throat as she’d done so, almost panicked at the thought of not having it.

  Carts of canned goods and water were worth how much if the world was truly ending?

  How long before someone got hurt?

  The lights flickered.

  The line at the front of the store broke.

  Tara grabbed her cart with one hand, Harper’s with the other. “I am not a thief!” she shouted, slapping bills down at the nearest register as they passed, almost shoving the money into the hands of the startled clerk. Harper staggered along, pushed by the tide of humanity that swarmed with her.

  “You’re not a thief.”

  But her words were lost in the chaos, and it was all she could do to keep up.

  Behind them came crashes and screams.

  Chaos. The end of the world.

  It followed them out into the parking lot.

  Chapter Seven

  Erik

  Day one 8:12 PM

  “Hello, sorry I missed your call
…” Erik pressed the button to disconnect. The most maddening thing was not being able to slam the phone down in a fit of rage. It was hard to get your aggressions out when all you can do is push a button.

  He did dance a little, though. It was a move of frustration, an action designed to avoid throwing the phone against the wall of the bedroom and shattering the only connection he had left with the outside world. The internet was down, the router refusing to hold a connection in a world where power came and went almost at a whim. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Then two, then three. By the time he’d taken his sixth deep breath, he was light-headed, but calmer. He picked up the phone and shook his free hand. If at first you don’t succeed…

  He texted. Again. Dad, I know reception is terrible at the lake, I hope that’s where you are. CALL ME ASAP! The last three texts all pretty much said the very same thing. Erik fumed with images of his father having spent the entire day in his boat, his phone securely locked in the car the way he always did when fishing and forgotten there as usual. Sometimes when he went up there, he left the phone in the trunk for the entire trip, saying he liked it better that way as it was more peaceful. He was probably nursing a beer out on the dock and contemplating the finer nuances of the sunset, or why the trees on the west side of the dock had bigger leaves. Something that had no significance whatsoever.

  Erik prayed that he was. At least he’d be safe for now. If he was up in the cabin, he wouldn’t even know if the world went dark until he came back. That was what chilled Erik. The vision of his father drifting on the lake clashed with the vision of him returning to find his home gutted for whatever the rioter could glean. He knew his father pretty well; he’d fight if he thought someone was robbing him. He’d lose.

  Erik needed to get hold of him now. And yet, if he was in the cabin, the very thing that would save him initially would doom him later on: ignorance.