Deep Shadows (8 page)

It felt good to joke about something inconsequential. The aurora continued to twirl and spin, brightening one moment and fading the next. Max was oddly awake and grateful to be out of city hall. He'd never been one to trust local authorities to solve his every need. The truth was, he felt better dealing with things himself, which was exactly what they were about to do.

When he pulled off the pavement and parked in front of the city water tower, Shelby made no move to leave the truck. They both craned their necks to look up at the tall structure, which looked oddly like a large golf ball on top of a tall tee. The words
Abney Argonauts
were written in blue letters on the side of the white tank, alongside a mural of the high school's mascot.

“Want to tell me what we're doing?”

“We're going to climb the tower.”

“Climb?”

“Unless you see an elevator, which wouldn't work anyway because there's no electricity.”

“Maybe I'll wait here.” Shelby pulled her gaze from the tower to study him.

“You're not going to let me go up there alone, are you?”

“And why wouldn't I?”

“Because I heard Perkins say everyone should work in pairs.”

“So you want me to go with you?”

“We need a comprehensive view of the area. No one in the mayor's meeting thought about it.”

“And what do you expect we'll see?”

“I have no idea, but I do know one thing.” He turned off the engine, opened his door, and tugged her hand, pulling her across the seat and out his side of the truck. “We'll see more up there than we can down here.”

She shook her head, but she wasn't saying no. Max considered that a victory.

He let her climb first, thinking that if she slipped he could catch her. A more likely scenario was that she'd knock him over on her way down, and they would both suffer broken legs or worse.

He shouldn't have worried. She climbed the ladder like a monkey in a tree.

By the time he reached the top, Shelby was seated with her feet dangling and her arms hooked over the shorter of two rails.

“Great idea, Max.”

“I have them occasionally.”

He dropped down to sit beside her, trying to process what he was seeing. If the aurora had been startling when viewed from the ground, it was overwhelming from where they sat. Flopping onto his back, he stared up at it. It was now after two in the morning. With all that had happened in the last six hours, he hadn't slowed down enough to consider the thing that was changing their lives. From one hundred and twenty feet up, the sight of the aurora was mesmerizing. The sky resembled a kaleidoscope, and Max felt as if he were caught in a tube somewhere between the array of mirrors on one end and the objects chamber on the other.

“You're looking a little green there, Max. Afraid of heights?” Shelby leaned over him, studying his face. Her impossibly curly black hair fell forward and onto his chest, and her warm brown eyes laughed at him.

He wanted to reach up and touch her face. He longed to pull her to him and forget about this cataclysmic event for a moment. But before he could make a move, Shelby was tugging on his hand, hauling him into a sitting position.

“I know that look,” she said. “Carter had the same expression before he upchucked last week.”

“He'd bet Jason he could eat three chili cheese dogs.”

“It's a good thing he did barf, or his insulin levels would have shot through the roof.”

“Boys will be—”

“Yes, I know, but the point is that you have the same look. Deep breaths, please.”

He actually did feel better sitting up. “For a moment there, it felt like I was floating.”

“A little vertigo is normal if you stare at the aurora too long.”

For the first time, Max's gaze sought the horizon toward the west. As far as he could see, in every direction, there was near total darkness punctuated by very few lights. “Amazing, isn't it?”

“It would be beautiful if it didn't spell doom and destruction.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I'm not sure what I believe.” Her tone had grown serious.

This was the Shelby he knew—contemplative, private, never giving much away. He preferred the one that had leaned over him with the look of amused concern.

“There's only enough water for twenty-four hours?” she asked.

“It might last longer, if people conserve.”

“Why don't we have a generator for this water tower?”

“Money. We're a small town and a generator of that size isn't cheap.” When she didn't respond, he added, “There's always the water from the springs if it comes to that.”

“It's not only a matter of having enough to drink. Think of the sanitary issues if you can't flush a toilet or bathe or wash your dishes.” She again slung her arms around the lowest rail and stared down at the ground.
“This comes from a lack of imagination. People can't conceive that the world they live in, the society they are used to, can change in a flash.”

Instead of arguing, he bumped his shoulder against hers. “I won't let anything happen to you and Carter.”

“We're fine.” She pushed her hair back out of her face. “I appreciate it. I do. But we're fine.”

Max allowed her words to fade into the darkness, and then he said, “Let's check out the other directions.”

They followed the platform to the north, east, and south. In each case it was the same, near total darkness broken by the occasional light from a home with a generator.

“We can tell Perkins exactly how widespread this is at tomorrow's meeting,” he said.

“A meeting we weren't invited to.”

“Most everything is out as far as we can see, which from this vantage is a complete 360. Bryant's men might have driven farther, but they wouldn't have been able to confirm what was happening in every direction.”

“How does that help us?”

“We know we're not in this alone.” He glanced at Shelby and as usual decided to be brutally honest with her. “With everyone in the same boat, there are going to be some people who try to take what few supplies we have.”

“You mean—”

“I mean that we need to start thinking about defense, because I don't see the US government sending in reinforcements anytime soon. Do you?”

They both glanced toward the military base to the east. It was too far away to see, but it was there. Were they also in the dark? Or were they better prepared? And what was their priority—ensuring the safety of the towns around them or protecting their country from outsiders? The dozens of questions Max had held at bay crashed over him in waves. He needed to check on his parents, but first he had to make sure that Shelby and Carter were going to be okay. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but sometime in the last five years he'd decided that he was personally responsible for their welfare. Shelby might insist they were fine alone, but Max wasn't going anywhere until he was sure that was true.

She stared up at him, a question on her lips and concern coloring her
expression, when a blast shattered the quiet of the night, followed immediately by the roar and rumbling of fire.

They leaped to their feet, ran around the platform, and stopped on the south side.

“It's near the high school,” Shelby whispered.

“There's an electrical substation a quarter mile past the football field.”

“There was.”

As they watched, an Abney fire truck raced toward the blazing inferno, lights flashing and siren screaming.

“How do I do this?” Her voice was forlorn, and she turned away from him. “How do I protect Carter in a world that no longer makes sense?”

“I don't know. I honestly don't.” He reached for her hand and held on even when she tried to pull away. “But I do know you're not in this alone. We'll find a way, Shelby. Together, we will find a way.”

E
LEVEN

T
he sound of Max's truck pulling into the driveway woke Carter from a deep sleep. He was surprised to see sunshine pouring in his window, and then he remembered he'd opened the blinds the night before to better see the aurora.

The aurora.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, touched the power button, and waited.

No service.

Of course there wasn't. For a few minutes before falling asleep, he'd allowed himself to pretend that by morning everything would be back to normal. Clearly that wasn't the case. With a groan of frustration, he powered off the phone.

Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and then hurried from his room. His mom was still asleep. The sight of her curled into a ball on top of her bed calmed something in Carter's heart. She must have come home late, as she hadn't bothered to change her clothes or pull down the covers. But she was home, which probably meant the world hadn't ended yet. She would never sleep through such an event. She'd probably take notes.

He made a pit stop by the bathroom, wondering if he should use water to flush the toilet or even brush his teeth. He decided no to the first and yes to the second. Glancing out the kitchen window, he saw Max in his backyard fiddling with something on his picnic table. He grabbed a box of whole grain cereal, the last of the milk from the fridge, a spoon, and a bowl.

He stepped outside with his breakfast and walked toward Max. “Hungry?” he asked, opening the chain-link fence that separated Max's yard from theirs.

“Actually, I am.” A box of Pop-Tarts sat on the picnic table beside an old camping stove.

“That sweet stuff will kill you.” Carter filled his bowl with cereal, sniffed the milk, and poured it up to the rim. He devoured three bites before he looked up. “What?”

“I'm remembering what it was like to be seventeen and starving.”

“You joke, but in a week we might all be starving.”

Max didn't argue with him, which Carter appreciated. His mom still tended to treat him like a kid, as if she could protect him from bad news. But he wasn't a kid, and the bad news was pretty obvious.

Max filled an old tin pot with water and set it on the stove, but he didn't turn on the flame.

“Bet you're wishing you didn't buy that fancy electric stove now.”

“You bring up a good point. Gas is still working, so you and your mom should be able to cook on yours—at least for now.”

“Want to take the coffee inside?”

“Nah. It's cooler out here.” Max sat down and tore open a package of the Pop-Tarts. He put half a pastry in his mouth, chewed for a few moments, and then swallowed it down with a swig of orange juice straight from the carton.

“I'd get a lecture for that.”

“One of the perks of being a bachelor.”

They ate in silence for a few moments. When Carter was done with the cereal, he pulled out his phone and checked it again.

“That's not going to work.”

“I know, but it's just—”

“A habit.”

“Yeah.” Carter frowned, feeling a strong desire to pitch the thing across the yard. He still hoped they were wrong about the flare. As long as there was hope, he'd keep it.

“So what did you and my mom find out last night?”

“Your government is at work doing the best they can.”

“Meaning nothing.”

Max laughed. “Basically you're right, but I'm not going to encourage your cynicism.”

“I learned it from you.”

“Probably, and if it prepares you for something like this, I suppose I'm not sorry.”

“Why aren't they doing anything?”

“They're trying, but no one has ever dealt with a massive solar flare before. It wasn't one of the scenarios in their handbook.”

“But a Russian invasion was?”

“You must have had Mr. Johnstone for government.”

“Guilty.”

“Yeah. He always did like to pull out the city documents and share them with his class.”

“And now I know why. Couldn't they prepare for something logical, like a virus or an IED or a solar flare?”

“Sometimes it takes a while for our emergency plans to catch up with reality.”

“We're sunk.”

“Not exactly.” Max was facing Carter's house, and Carter turned to see who he was waving at. His mom was standing in the kitchen window, waving back at them both. Max stood and picked up a package of matches, lit the burner, adjusted the flame, and centered the pot of water over it.

“Your mom was pretty tired last night.”

“I never heard her come in, and for the record, I'm the one who is supposed to be staying out late.”