The Storm (4 page)

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              An hour passed, and we were both yawning as we continued reminiscing through old memories. It was then we heard the siren announcing the storm had come. It was a sound that cut to the bone. The loud air alarm sirens that typically meant a tornado was imminent or a nuclear bomb was on its way. It never sounded for weddings or happy occasions; it only heralded doom. Its sound was dread converted to decibels, and it was loud on this night.

              Our eyes met. Nothing was said, but much was communicated. “I’ll be upstairs with the kids,” was the good mother’s immediate reaction.

              “I’ll be around,” I said back at her.

              Opening the door, I found the cool night air crisp and refreshing. It also carried the siren’s roar as it reverberated through the area. A couple of other neighbors stepped outside. Tom Jones, the middle-aged landscaper who hated being indoors and was usually found in front of his house smoking, was standing outside in his bathrobe smoking a cigarette and looking around. Next door was Puba, the shy and reserved single Sri Lankan mother of two. She had taken a minute to get dressed and came out to discover what the siren was trying to warn us about. In Kentucky, a siren meant take shelter. I had no idea if she had ever heard one like this before but she had me to explain.

              “Hey, neighbor,” was my usual greeting to the neighborhood people I knew, regardless if I knew their name or not.

              With her immensely thick accent and loud voice to be heard above the ever screaming siren, she approached and asked, “Josh, do you know what is going on?”

              I answered her with a quick three nods of my head. After a deep swallow, I looked at her in the eyes and explained, “We have a really weird situation happening. A solar storm is about to hit, and we’re going to lose power for an ‘extended period.’” I made the quotation symbol with my two fingers of each hand. “The president was on TV earlier. He said it could last a while.”

              Ever the optimist, she was looking down at the grass when she replied, “At least winter is mostly behind us. I don’t have a fireplace like some homes.”

              From down the street came the voice of Tom struggling to be heard above the blasting siren, “Hey guys. What in hell is going on?”

              Cupping my hands around my mouth to raise my voice, I hollered, “Come over here and I will tell you.”

              “Man, I’m kinda drunk and ain’t wanting to be seen walking in my robe, but I’m coming.” He quickly popped back inside and re-emerged with fuzzy bathroom slippers on. Not the normal image projected by the manly Tom. Other lights were flicking on now in the cul-de-sac as the noise cut through everyone’s peaceful sleep.

              Puba continued, “I hope the power outage doesn’t last more than a few days. We buy all our food at the organic store in Rockville. We have enough for maybe two days. My son will go crazy without his video games. At least maybe I can get him to get ahead in his studies, although half his school work is done on his iPad, and that needs power.”

              Tom was now close as he continued walking toward us, with a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. His long quasi-mullet haircut and big mustache needed grooming, but his appearance could be forgiven. This was supposed to be just another Friday night for him to get drunk on the couch and watch DVDs of old favorites. A couple of other neighbors could be seen looking through their windows, though they hadn’t come outside yet. Taking a puff of his cigarette, he continued with his raised and slurred speech, although he was close enough to be heard at a normal tone. “What’s this crap about the power going out again? I really hate our power company.”

              “The president said it might be out a long time. A solar storm is approaching.”

              Tom, being a pretty hardcore conservative, already disliked this president and didn’t hesitate to reflect on what was said. “Aww, that dirtbag in the White House is playing some kinda game to cover his ass, ya know? It’s like that SERS or SARS thing a while ago, a whole lotta worrying about nothing.” He took a deep swig on his beer. “Yeah, maybe we lose power for a day or two, but it ain’t nothing to worry about. He just don’t wanna look bad with elections coming up. Figures if he cries wolf and it’s nothing, he gets some hero points with voters.”

              Puba, the consulate first generation immigrant who had already sworn allegiance to the other party replied, “They don’t take emergencies lightly, Tom. They learned after New Orleans that any crisis needs a swift reply. I think the president is doing the right thing.”

              Tom had another gulp of beer, some left on the top of his mustache. “Spare me that crap. You ain’t from here and don’t know them like me. You didn’t live here back when there was Y2K. This is just more of that. Someone is making money off it and getting us all worked up about nothing.”

              As usual, with politics, it was me in the middle. “Hey Tom, did you know that they’ve already canceled work tomorrow and probably some of next week too for everyone?”

              “High five, man!” He high-fived both of us and took a long gulp to finish the beer, followed by a low belch under his breath.

              The lights then appeared. Oddly I didn’t look up to see them. I was staring at the bushes in front of my house and noticing how the colors danced around and moved on them. It was nighttime, and our neighborhood had street lights, but our property was usually pretty dark, and the irony of what I was seeing struck me. The bushes were more visible than they should be, and the colorful light was almost dancing on them much like a refracted light from a child’s bubble might dance around on the walls.

              “Oh my god,” was all I heard from Puba. Turning my body but with my head still staring at the bushes, I finally made it around to see both her and Tom looking straight up.

              Still slurring but filled with excitement, Tom blurted out, “Look at that, man. It’s a damn aurora borealis. I saw me one once when I was kid and traveled to Alaska on a big fishing trip with my father.”

              The sky was alive with movement and colors. Moments before, there had been stars and open sky, now the sky was a montage of all my children’s crayon colors. It looked as though God himself was holding a handful of sky crayons and was erratically painting some picture. The beams moved around while jumping frequently, and our neighborhood was lit enough to see clearly down the street and at all the houses.

              More neighbors came outside to witness the spectacle. They had probably been peeking out through the curtains and now had to come see the spectacle of a lifetime. Nothing much was said by anyone. All just stared in amazement and disbelief. Auroras weren’t supposed to be seen in Maryland. The president was right. Like the beauty of a colorful coral in the sea, it appeared radiant and harmless until approached, and then its strike would end a life quickly. Would this strike suddenly be like the coral?

              The siren’s loud wail suddenly seized. All was quiet except the gentle hum of a large train in the distance. The intensity of the aurora seemed to be building. Already an amazing event, it was noticeably gaining in strength by the minute. A loud pop that could have been gunfire or a transformer blowing echoed in the distance. Puba, Tom, and I all just looked at each other with faces filled with both terror and amazement.

             
POP!
echoed in the distance.
BOOOOOM
then sounded in another direction. The last explosion could be felt in the chest like a big stereo system booming from a car. It was close. Everything started flickering then. Everything. The streetlamps went out and then came back. Every house in sight had all their lights come on at once for a few seconds then turned off. Even the cars’ headlights flickered on and off. My breath quickened, and I felt panic approaching, but it hadn’t arrived for me yet. The lights all came on again and then off again. It was like the whole damn neighborhood was a big Christmas tree and someone kept flicking the switch to it.

              Tom was the first to break from our group. He tossed his cigarette and beer can toward the street and ran in his bunny slippers at a speed approaching a sprint. Nobody would have ever guessed Tom was that quick.

              Puba spoke first, saying, “I have to check on my son” as she was already walking back to her house before she finished speaking.

              “Oh god . . . Stacy and the kids,” came out under my breath.

              Running through the door and feeling the panic slip in, I heard Murphy start barking. It didn’t even occur to me that the Murph monster never barks except when that earthquake hit in 2011. Up the stairs I went, two at a time to reach the top rapidly, lights continuing to flash on and off.

              “Daddy!” came the scream from Tabitha’s room. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Stacy pulling Paul from the crib in the other bedroom.

              “Stacy, get him downstairs.” I then opened the door and saw my little princess curled in the corner of her bed, half hiding under a blanket.

              “Daddy!” came the relieved but hysteric child’s voice. “Monsters are in my room, Daddy.”

              Lights on, lights off. I picked her up and wiped the tears from her face while giving her my old bear hug. “There are no monsters, pumpkin, but we have problems with the electricity. It’s going to be ok.”

              Continuing to comfort her, I carried her downstairs to the couch where Stacy and Paul were waiting. Poor little Paul was crying and not happy to be woken up.

              Murphy continued to bark. “Shut up, buddy,” was my command to him. Dogs can understand a lot, and they certainly understand tone of voice. My nervousness did little to help command him to be quiet. The kids were both crying, and Stacy was holding both of them now, one in each arm tucked against her body. Lights on, lights off. It continued.

              Looking out the back window, the houses behind us all lit up and off at the same intervals as ours. It was almost like the lights were part of a symphony and playing their part as the aurora commanded. It was then that it happened. The lights then all came on with some flickering and stayed on. The TV came on to static and was blasting a weird pulsating sound from the speakers. My phone was vibrating in my pocket, and I pulled it out to look. It too was seemingly going crazy. It didn’t respond to my commands but continued to emit light. It was then that Stacy asked me a question that hit me like a thunderbolt.

              “Josh, didn’t you say you unplugged the television?”

              “Yeah, I thought I did, but I guess I forgot when we had that wine. Going to do it now.” I walked across the room, stepping over kids’ toys because the lights were on and it was easy to see. Reaching around the TV, my hands felt what they were looking for, the plug. I pulled it back so Stacy could see. “Oh Fudgies!” was all I could managed to blurt out with the kids present. It was unplugged. The TV continued to emit light and sound. I heard noise in the kitchen.

              Running across the dining room, I found the microwave beeping and running, the can opener spinning, and every other device working. All had been unplugged. Nothing made sense. It was like Einstein’s evil twin and come back to screw with physics and the Earth.

             
BOOOOM
!
A loud roar came from within a few miles. More explosions followed rapidly. I walked down to hold Stacy and the kids. “Keep your eyes closed and just pray,” I told them. We weren’t especially religious, but this seemed like a good time to ask for some mercy from God since it was probably God himself doing this to the Earth. Everything stayed on but continued to flicker. Thinking of God then, something occurred to me. If God wiped out the ancient world with water, he would have to find something new since we have boats now. We could defeat a meteor, which had already been used to kill off the dinosaurs. What we can’t live without is electricity. Why not a solar storm? I started to laugh, and Stacy shot me a look.

              “Josh, look at my watch. It’s spinning around at super speeds. What is going on?”

              “Yeah, everything electronic is screwed. Everything will be all right guys. Daddy is here and will protect you.”

              “Roof roof,” replied Murphy, as though he could understand what I had said.

              Just like that, all the craziness of the lights and electronics was over. Everything went dark and quiet with a sudden whoosh. It was like the whole earth was letting out a couple of hundred years of collective breath all at once. Humans survived for most of our existence without electricity. We would all now be returning to our roots. With the quiet and calm, we all lay on the couch and started to doze, even Murphy. It was late, or early, depending on your perspective, though we had no idea what time it was. The sky continued to dance with colors as we let ourselves be consumed with sleep. A new day would bring a new age.

Chapter 4:

Where’s the WiFi?

              The early morning light peeked through the windows and put a stream across Murphy’s face. His pacing and whimpering woke little Paulie. I lay on the floor with my head on a stuffed animal for a pillow, listening to the whimpering of Murphy. Every morning at first light, he whines to go outside. As I gradually rolled over on my back to look up at Murphy standing above me trying to slip in some wet kisses, I heard Paul mumbling something. Looking over, I saw Stacy and the two kids sprawled out on the couch. A new day had begun.