Blackout: Book 0 Page 5

  “Bye, bye Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singin’ this’ll be the day that I die.”

  Jacob had already found his way to a grill. He was one of the few who knew the lyrics to the verses. He sang proudly as he tended to the steak, and his performance was so impressive that the others quieted down to listen.

  “I didn’t know Jacob sang,” Nita said to me.

  “Neither did I,” I muttered.

  The music slowed as we joined Jacob at the grill, and he turned away from the steaks to sing the last bit of the lyrics to me instead.

  “In the streets, the children scream, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed,” he crooned, putting down the metal grill tongs to take my hands in his. “But not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken.” Somewhere down below, a cry rang out, but Jacob sang on. “And the three men I admire most, the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. They caught the last train for the coast the day the music died. And they were singing—”

  The tempo picked up again, driven by the guitar player, and everyone joined in for the last few repetitions of the chorus, drowning out the faint sounds of struggle and discomfort in the streets. My throat tightened as I focused on the fervent request in Jacob’s warm eyes to just exist in that moment with him, to revel in the humanity of it all. He drew me closer and closed out the last line of the song in complete silence, the guitar and other voices fading out to let Jacob’s deep and resonant tenor echo through the night on its own.

  “Singing this will be the day that I die…”

  A moment of silence followed before the rooftop burst into cheers and applause. People clapped Jacob on the back and praised his impromptu gig. He thanked each of them, but his gaze remained fixed on me as I ducked my head and wiped the moisture from beneath my eyes. He waited for me to say something.

  “Your steaks are burning.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  He whirled around to rescue the meat from the grill, giving me the time to disappear into the crowd. Someone offered me a beer, but I shook my head, bypassing each group until I reached the edge of the building. I rested my elbows on the frigid concrete and peered over. It was too dark to see anything in the streets other than the phantom outlines of cars stuck in place, but the wind whispered with tragedy. A baby cried. A dog whimpered. The shatter of breaking glass cued what probably wasn’t the first of a long list of criminal activities.

  The others didn’t understand. A city-wide blackout was not cause for celebration. The morning would shed light on the severity of the situation. People grew desperate very quickly. We relied so heavily on modern day accommodations that we had forgotten the basics of how to take care of ourselves without things like running water and electricity. Reality would set in soon, when everyone realized that their toilets wouldn’t flush and they had nothing to eat but peanut butter and kale chips. The grocery stores and supermarkets would get bombarded, but with no way to pay for goods, people would turn to theft and looting. The shrewd and the brute had the best chances of survival. Everyone else would be collateral damage.

  I hung my head, releasing a sigh as I stared at the speckled flecks in the concrete. Maybe Jacob and Nita were right. Maybe I was paranoid and anxious, but that was how I had been raised, with the inveterate thought of ultimate ruin fixed in the back of my brain. After all these years, I figured the real world might have dampened the lunacy I’d grown up with, but parents shaped their children, and I was the last person to deny that my father had chiseled me out of the same damn block of stubborn rock he’d been born out of.

  A paper plate bearing a blackened fillet appeared beneath me.

  “It might be a little overcooked,” Jacob said. “Also, no one bothered to bring any forks or knives, so—” He produced two hamburger buns, one for me and one for him. “Creative problem solving, right?”

  I mustered a smile, put together my burger, and took a bite. Despite Jacob’s claim, the meat was juicy and tender on the inside.

  “About earlier,” he said, arranging a piece of lettuce on his bun so that it sat just right. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right. We should make sure we have enough supplies for ourselves before we start handing them out to everyone else.”

  I wiped a dribble of juice from my chin. “Have you ever noticed how often we apologize to each other?”

  “I guess so—”

  “Why are you guys all the way over here?” Nita asked, sidling up next to me. She handed me a styrofoam cup of instant hot chocolate. The powder hadn’t entirely dissolved yet, revolving slowly on top of the drink. “Thought you could use a hot drink. We boiled water on the grill. Clever, right?”

  I stirred in the rest of the chocolate and took a sip, reveling in the warmth of the beverage as it made its way down my throat and into my belly. “Thanks.”

  Nita nudged Jacob over my plate. “Hey, where’d you learn to sing like that?”

  He took a bite of his steakburger and grinned. “Church camp.”

  “I didn’t know you went to church camp,” I said.

  “Yeah, I went every summer as a kid. I never told you that?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  Nita cleared her throat to fill the uncomfortable silence. “It’s freezing over here. You guys should come back over to the grill. We’re making s’mores next. It’ll be just like Girl Scouts. Come on.”

  “You go,” I told Jacob as Nita bounded off. “I think I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, polishing off his burger. “I could come with you.”

  “No, you should stay,” I said. “Have fun while you can.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at my misfortunate wording but didn’t comment on it. “Okay. I’m coming to check on you in an hour though.”

  Jacob leaned in for a kiss. His lips tasted like salt and beer, but they were soft and reassuring against mine. I pulled away and let him return to the party, ducking my chin into the front of my jacket to ward off the wind. Nita’s eyes followed me as I walked across the roof to the door. I pretended not to see her, and she wisely did not call attention to my hasty exit.

  In the apartment, the silence was more profound. The usual whir of the heating unit in the bedroom was absent, along with the general hum of functioning electronics. I pulled the duvet off of the bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and wandered into the walk-in closet that Jacob and I shared. Three-quarters of the space belonged to him. Rows of neatly pressed pants, suit jackets, dress shirts, and vests were hung equal distances apart. Beneath that, his collection of fancy leather dress shoes gleamed in the darkness. A storage compartment hid all of his casual clothes and workout gear. I knew that if I opened the top drawer, I’d find every T-shirt and muscle tank folded flat along the seams.

  At the rear of the closet, my small assortment of faded jeans and practical crewneck sweaters paled in comparison to Jacob’s stunning wardrobe. Shopping had never been my thing, although I had indulged in amassing an impressive array of Vans’s all-weather shoe line. With the snow and the rain, it was nice to have a little variety while I kept my feet warm and dry. I sat down on the floor of the closet and shoved aside the pile of shoes, reaching way in the back beneath our hanging coats to get to what I was looking for. My fingers closed around a cold metal corner, and I drew out a fat rusty ammunition can. Inside, encased in another smaller cardboard box, was an old antique radio. I lifted it out, closed my eyes in silent prayer, and flipped it on.

  It fizzled to life, filling the closet with fuzzy static. My half-assed Faraday cage had kept it safe from whatever blast had fried the rest of the city. I fiddled with the dials, pausing on each channel to listen for signs of communication. Chances were low. The radio towers had probably felt the impact too, but if someone had managed to set up a working signal in the time since the blast, then I was determined to find it. After several passes through the white noise, I fina
lly caught something and turned up the volume on the feeble speakers.

  “If anyone’s listening out there, this is Diane and Lacy from Cherry Creek,” a woman’s voice, distorted and imprecise, said. “We’ve made contact with amateur operators in the District of Columbia, who have information from government officials. From what we can tell, the entire United States and the southern part of Canada have been affected by the blackouts. Whether it was a solar flare or the result of a nuclear EMP blast, people are already claiming that the act was one driven by terrorism. Electricity is not expected to return any time soon. We recommend that you get out of the city before it’s too late. Areas with less population density will be safer at a time like this. Ration your supplies. Make intelligent choices. Remember your humanity. And good luck out there.”

  An EMP blast. The white burst of light in the atmosphere. The acronym triggered a hazy memory. My father’s voice echoed indistinctly, almost as if it were coming out of the radio.

  “An electromagnetic pulse, George,” he’d said, wire cutters working furiously to shape a cage out of layered chicken wire. He was the only person who ever called me George. I always thought it was because he’d wanted a son rather than a daughter. “It’s a nuclear bomb. North Korea’s got ’em, and when they detonate ’em, it’s gonna take out the entire grid. Gotta be ready for anything.”

  “If anyone’s listening out there, this is Diane and Lacy from Cherry Creek,” the radio chirped again. “We’ve made contact with amateur operators in the District of Columbia…”

  The message was prerecorded and programmed to repeat. Diane and Lacy were probably on their way out of Denver already. If this really was a terrorist attack, there was no point in sticking around. Major hubs would be the most dangerous places to be. The women on the radio were right. We needed to get out of the city.

  I set the radio down and kicked myself free of the duvet, fumbling around in the dark to find the exit to the closet. When I reached the hallway of our floor, I tripped over a raised corner for the carpet, nearly twisting my ankle. Bracing myself against the wall, I forced myself to take a long, deep breath. Panic and rushed decisions weren’t going to help us. I needed to be calm. Level-headed. And just a tiny bit paranoid.

  The blackout party on the roof was still in full swing. The alcohol had kicked in, and I barged into a drunken rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” The guitar had lost a string and dropped out of tune, but its owner played on unaware. People danced around one grill like participants in a bizarre ritual while others toasted marshmallows around another. Someone else balanced on the edge of the roof as if it were a tightrope. I rushed over and pulled the inebriated partygoer to safety by the pocket of his coat then sent him downstairs to think about what he’d done. Then I scanned the roof for Jacob and found him sharing one of the patio chairs with Nita.

  “I need to talk to you,” I announced, marching up to them.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. Thankfully, he was sober. “I thought you went to bed.”

  Nita reached out to draw me closer. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, and it’s going to get worse,” I told them. “We need to leave.”

  Jacob blinked. “Leave what?”

  “The city. Denver. We should get out now before the rush.”

  Jacob and Nita exchanged worried glances. I gusted a sigh.

  “Remember the white light?” I asked them. “It was either a solar flare or an EMP attack, both of which are bad news for all of us. The entire country’s black—”

  “How do you know?” Jacob interrupted.

  “I found a working radio. Someone was broadcasting.”

  “Where? If everything’s toast?”

  My teeth worked at my lip, trimming the skin. “I hid one in a crappy Faraday cage in our closet.”

  Nita squinted up at me. “What’s a Faraday cage?”

  “It’s a shield that blocks electromagnetic fields,” I explained impatiently. “I used an old-school ammunition can. Anyway, listen—”

  “Hang on a second,” Jacob interrupted, shifting forward in his seat. “You’ve been hiding some weird doomsday device in the back of our closet all this time?”

  “It’s not a doomsday device—”

  “Damn it, Georgie, I thought we were past all this!” Jacob rose to his feet, kicking an empty beer can across the roof. It clattered against someone else’s shoes, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. “It was cute in college, okay? All the prepper talk and bugout novels. But this is real life now. You can’t hide shit and not tell me.”

  “You didn’t tell me you went to church camp.”

  “My mother and father are devout Christians! Of course I went to church camp!”

  “Guys,” Nita said as the growing volume of our voices began to draw the attention of the other partygoers.

  “Why can’t you listen to me just once?” I demanded, stepping into Jacob’s personal space. “I kept telling you that something like this was a possibility. Yeah, sure, the chances were one in a million, but guess what? Here we are! And you know what? I’m one of the only people who’s going to know what to do when everyone else is scrambling like idiots trying to survive the apocalypse.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” he shot back. “This isn’t the apocalypse, Georgie. It’s a blackout. We’ll wait it out here at the apartment, where it’s safe, and when the power comes back on in a few hours or a few days or however long—”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” I said over him. “The power’s not coming back on, Jacob! The grid is gone. Gone! This country runs on over two thousand transformers. Do you know how long it will take to replace them all?”

  “Guys,” Nita said again, maneuvering herself between us. She was so short that we glared at each other over her head. At this point, the entire party had gone silent to watch our flare-up. “Calm down.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” Jacob argued. “Just because one random person on the radio said it was an EMP or whatever doesn’t actually mean it actually is. They’re probably trying to capitalize on fear.”

  “Or they’re smart enough to know it’s time to get out of town and nice enough to warn everybody else to do the same.”

  “God, I can’t take this anymore,” Jacob said, running his hands through his hair. “Georgie, this is not one of your end-of-the-world books. This is not The Walking Dead—”

  An explosion rent the air, cutting Jacob off midsentence.

  Chapter Four

  Instinctively, everyone hit the ground. I flattened myself out on the roof between Nita and Jacob, covering my head with my hands, but the explosion settled quickly. A transformer on a nearby telephone pole had burst into flames. The wires around it fizzled with leftover electricity. The purple-white light lit up the rooftop and illuminated the sky. For one moment, I could see every horrified face around me. Then the power surge fizzled out with another loud bang, and darkness descended again.

  Silence blanketed the rooftop. Then one lubricated voice uttered:

  “What. The. Fuuuuuuck.”

  Jacob lowered his hands from where they cradled his skull and looked around. “Georgie. Nita. Are you guys okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Nita said, coming out of her tucked position too. “Georgie?”

  “Oh, I’m good,” I told them. “Do you believe me now?”

  Jacob pushed himself to his knees. “Let’s not panic. It was probably a fluke.”

  “It wasn’t a fluke.” I grabbed Jacob before he could get to his feet and pulled him closer, grasping his face between both hands. “Look at me. I know I’ve told you some crazy stories over the years, but just this once, I need you to believe me. I know about this kind of stuff. Please. This is not your average blackout.”

  I wasn’t sure what helped to shift Jacob’s perspective—my insistence or the exploding transformer—but I saw the change in his face. His lips parted as if he was going to say something. His brown eyes grew darker. He pressed his
mouth to my palm.

  “Okay,” he said against my skin.

  “Okay? You believe me?”

  “I believe in you,” he modified, clutching my hand to press it against his chest. His heart thumped beneath my fingertips, adrenaline racing through his veins. “If you think we should leave the city, then we will.”

  “It’s that easy?” I ventured.

  “No,” Jacob admitted. “First of all, there’s no point in leaving now. We have hours until dawn, and marching around in the dark and the cold is not going to make for good attitudes. Plus, it isn’t safe. We don’t know who’s wandering around down there. I’d rather have clear visuals.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s not all,” Jacob went on, kneading the pads of my fingers. “I can’t leave Denver without checking in on my family. I need to know that they’re okay, and we should ask them if they want to go with us.”

  “They should come with us,” I insisted. “The city won’t be safe, especially for Pippa. We need to get her somewhere secure, quiet, and clean.”

  “Which brings me to my third point,” he said. “We need a plan. We need a way to get out of the city, since cars obviously aren’t an option, and we need a place to go. Any ideas?”

  My teeth found my lip again. The skin split, and the familiar tang of blood touched the tip of my tongue. “I know a place,” I told him. “Somewhere I used to go when I was a kid. It’s up in the mountains, off the grid. If we can get there, we have a pretty decent chance of waiting this thing out.”

  “What about supplies?”

  “We’ll need a few things to get out of the city, but the place I have in mind is practically a fortress. It should be fully loaded.”

  Jacob worked my lip free of my teeth and blotted the dot of blood with his thumb. “If I ask you why you know a place like this, are you going to tell me a true answer?”

  “Probably not.”

  He gave a resigned sigh. “I thought not. Nita?”

  The other partygoers had begun to disperse. The explosion had put a damper on the festivities, and everyone was ready to call it a night. As they collected empty beer bottles and trash from around the grills, Nita appeared at Jacob’s shoulder.