Jim ignored him.
He knew what this EMP meant. It meant the breakdown of society.
How far it would fall was yet to be seen.
People would panic. Some would pretend it wasn’t happening. Others would take advantage, using the opportunity to do what they’d always wanted to do.
Jim didn’t think it would take long.
Now, there was only one thing on his mind. And that was getting to his wife.
He and Aly may have been separated, they may have had their troubles, but she was still his wife.
And he was going to make sure she was safe.
No matter what.
“Where you going, Jim? You think I could use a payphone?”
Ignoring Rob, Jim dashed back into his shop.
Leaning next to his workbench was a backpack that he took with him everywhere.
It had some normal everyday things, like a book or two, and a pair of headphones for when Rob was talking too much.
But it also contained what he’d called his emergency kit. For food, there were a half-dozen energy bars, the kind cyclists used, along with a large water bottle. There was also a high quality multi-tool, a fire starter kit, a cheap fixed-blade knife, a compass, and a couple maps of the surrounding area. It also had some spare rounds for his revolver, already loaded into a quick-loader decide.
It was a normal backpack. Black and unadorned. It didn’t look the least bit “tactical.” He wouldn’t look out of place wearing it. He knew that in a situation like this, the last message he wanted to send out to the public was, “I’m prepared and I have a lot of gear to steal.” He didn’t want a target on his back.
Jim shouldered the bag and patted his waistband where his .38 revolver sat in its holster.
“Jim, where the hell are you going?”
“Aly,” said Jim, walking swiftly down the street to where his car was parked. Hopefully it would still run.
He didn’t have time to explain the situation to Rob.
“Aly? She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. Come on, Jim, you’ve got to help me with this interview.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” said Jim. “Don’t worry about the interview. Come with me and I’ll explain.”
Rob apparently knew Jim well enough to take what he said seriously. Jim wasn’t the type to mess around. He meant what he said. An expression of worry formed on his face as he jogged alongside Jim, trying to keep up with him.
2
Aly sat in a small holding cell of the Pittsford police station. Pittsford was one of the wealthier suburbs of Rochester. The police department was small and the building itself was small.
She’d never been arrested for anything in her life. She’d never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. Once, when she was younger, she’d been pulled over for running a stop sign, but she’d managed to talk her way out of it.
She’d always been the good girl. She’d always gotten top grades in school without so much as a single detention.
She was almost too filled with shame to think about what had happened last night.
Sure, she’d been known to lose her temper from time to time. Especially during arguments with Jim, her husband. But she’d never lost it like this. Not publicly. Not with a police officer present.
The metal bench in her cell was cold and uncomfortable. She’d only lasted an hour on it. The rest of the night, she’d spent with her back against the cold cinder block wall, hunched forward with her arms wrapped around her knees.
There was one other person locked up along with her. He was a man in his fifties, with a shaved head and tattoos on his face. He was the next cell over, with one empty cell separating them. He hadn’t stopped staring at her all night, so she’d taken to simply facing the other way.
It was morning now, not that there was any way to know other than her watch. The fluorescent lighting and air conditioning created a stale atmosphere. No natural light came in.
When they’d taken her fingerprints and booked her, they’d explained what would happen in the morning. But she’d been so angry that now, once she’d calmed down, it was nothing more than a hazy memory.
Despite her anger, she’d been too ashamed to call anyone with her one phone call, so she’d passed it up. She didn’t want anyone to know that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t like her, and she would have never heard the end of it.
Aly glanced at her watch. It was a little after 8 AM. Surely something would have to happen soon. Didn’t they need to give her breakfast?
But no one had told her anything.
She’d seen two cops walking by and she’d hadn’t had the nerve to ask them anything. The older man in the other cell had yelled out some obscenities at them and they’d simply ignored him.
As far as Aly could tell, the three cells were adjacent to a hallway that ran between the front end of the station, where the secretary sat, and the back.
Pittsford was a small, peaceful suburb. Aly doubted that these cells saw much action at all.
The Pittsford cops had shiny, new cruisers, whereas the Rochester city cops drove older models cars, sometimes with noticeable dents.
“Why won’t they let me be free?” screamed the man in the other cell. “Why won’t they let Samuel free? The world is where Samuel belongs!” He was screaming at the top of the lungs, and the sound made Aly’s heart jump.
Aly said nothing, and no one came running, of course, to see what was the matter. The man fell silent again.
Aly’s mind turned to the night before. She’d been driving back to her mother’s house, after visiting the Eastview mall. It wasn’t that she’d needed to buy anything. She’d just needed to get out of the house.
Maybe she’d run the light. Maybe she hadn’t.
The cop sure thought that she had.
And that was when the argument had started.
He’d asked if she’d been drinking, and of course she hadn’t been. And just to prove something, she’d refused to take a breathalyzer test.
Someone had come along, some “concerned citizen,” who just couldn’t seem to mind his own business. He’d given her some unsolicited advice, something about knowing her place as a woman.
And she’d just gone off on him, an intense verbal tirade that had never seemed to end.
That was the short version of how she’d ended up here.
She checked her watch again. Only a couple minutes had gone by.
Shouldn’t something be happening by now?
“They won’t let Johnson out of the cage!” screamed her cell neighbor.
He must have been off his rocker, thought Aly. One minute his name was Samuel and the next it was Johnson.
Or maybe he was talking about two people altogether separate from himself.
Who knew.
She knew she didn’t want to find out.
Suddenly, the lights went out.
And the station fell silent.
The air conditioner had stopped running. She could hear the fans running down.
The cell and the station were immersed in total darkness.
Aly couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
Some other sounds were missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on what they were. They were the background sounds of machinery that no one typically noticed.
It seemed deadly silent.
“The time has come!” shouted the crazy guy. “Darkness will bring Damian to the light! And no other shall come forth from the light but Damian himself!”
Aly’s heart was pounding in her chest.
Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden.
Why was she feeling anxious?
Surely it was just a power outage. It was something that happened from time to time, even in police stations.
But wouldn’t they have had a backup generator? Why wasn’t it already running?