Hugh Howey - The Hurricane

“What’s this gonna do?” Daniel asked. He couldn’t see the solar panel running anything huge, like a fridge or a coffee maker.

“The panel puts out twelve volts for the lights,” the girl said. “There’s a voltage regulator and a battery in that box mounted below—the one with the wires.” She pointed with one of the leads from the multimeter to the new connections they’d made. “This is an inverter my dad uses in his car. It plugs into a cigarette adapter and puts out one hundred twenty volts like a normal outlet, just not as much juice.” She bent over one of the small outlets in the black box and inserted the two long, needle-like leads from the multimeter, each one into either of the two slots. “This thing is used to getting nine volts, and now it’s getting twelve. Now I need to see exactly how much we’re getting out of it in AC.”

Daniel smiled. He looked across the street as a couple started dragging limbs from one unnatural pile and placed them in one they had decided made more sense.

“One hundred twelve,” Anna said. She sniffed. “That’s plenty.” She turned a knob on the multimeter with several loud clicks. “Now to see how many amps.” She frowned at the LCD readout as it flicked with numbers. “Not bad,” she said. “Enough to charge a cellphone or a laptop.”

Daniel beamed. “That’s brilliant,” he said. “What’re you hoping to charge with it?”

Anna looked up at him, a lopsided frown of confusion on her face. “Whatever needs charging,” she said.

“I know, but what did you have in mind to wanna get up and do this first thing in the morning? A radio?”

She laughed. “No. Actually, we have one of those hand-cranked kinds. No, I didn’t make this for anything I’ve got. They’re saying we could be at least a week, maybe more, without power. This’ll be for whoever needs it.” She pointed toward the end of the driveway. “I’ll put up a sign in a little bit to let people know it’s ready.”

“How much?” Daniel asked.

She tucked a loose wisp of hair, so fine Daniel couldn’t tell what color it was, behind her ear. “What do you mean? You mean money ?” She frowned. “I can’t charge for this.”

Daniel felt like an ass. He rubbed his hand over his camera, which was low on juice. He’d been asking in order to offer something in exchange for the charge. It had come out like he was accusing, or even encouraging her for gouging people in a time of need, rather than offering them a service.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said feebly.

“Yeah,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “Anyway, thanks for your help. Hope I didn’t use up too much of your time.” She rubbed her hands on the seat of her pants. “In exchange for your services, I can let you use this anytime you like.” She smirked at him.

“Thanks,” Daniel said. He looked up as a man exited the front door with a folded blue tarp in his hands. “I guess I’ll go.”

“Anna?” The man peered down the driveway.

“Over here, Dad.” She waved at him, but looked over her shoulder to smile at Daniel.

“There you are. Whatcha working on?”

Daniel walked down the driveway as she repeated her explanation of the gizmo. Somehow, the fact that she’d done the project without telling her father added to the allure. As Daniel walked slowly toward the next house, he glanced continuously over his shoulder at the two of them, bent down over the solar panel sticking out from the bushes. Instead of continuing his planned walk to the end of the neighborhood and out to the main road, he circled around Anna’s house, noting the damage to the shingles, the fruit tree toppled in the back yard, the tall radio tower tangled with limbs. As he wandered back toward his own house, walking slowly by hers, he saw a ladder up against the gutters, Anna and her father scrambling up the roof on a different ladder hooked over the peak, a blue tarp unfolding between them.

Who in the world was this Anna girl that lived four houses down from him?

Daniel returned home to find the cleanup around his house already underway. His mom and Carlton were dragging a massive limb down the driveway as he rounded the mailbox. There was already a small pile along their edge of the cul-de-sac.

“There’s some oatmeal left,” his mom said. “Probably still warm.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ll be right out to help.”

He waved to his sister, who waved back, a too-large leather glove flopping on her hand. She bit her lip and went back to wrestling a small limb, trying to extricate it from a labyrinthine tangle of a dozen mangled trees.

“I’ll be right back,” he called to her. As he considered the amount of work ahead of him, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anger toward Hunter. His older brother always seemed to weasel out of laborious tasks. Daniel imagined him sleeping late with his girlfriend, her parents actually out of town, their power miraculously working, a hot tub bubbling under its insulated cover as it waited patiently for long days of lounging, soaking, and doing nothing.

Daniel glanced up at the enormous tree that had stove in the roof. As he bounded up the front steps, he marveled at how normal and everyday that tree and its destruction were becoming. He pictured them getting completely used to it, leaving it where it was, his sister’s bedroom becoming a modified treehouse that she shared with the squirrels. He laughed to himself as he raced up the stairs and to his bedroom.

When he opened the door, he found piles of his sister’s stuff arranged along one wall in his bedroom. Daniel groaned. He went to his closet and dug around in a drawer of electronics and miscellaneous wires until he found his camera charger. He pocketed that, went to his bedside table, and unplugged his cell phone and Zune chargers from the wall outlet behind it.

Daniel wrapped the thin cords around each of the chargers and hurried downstairs. He retrieved his book bag from his mom’s room and stuffed the chargers inside, along with his camera and his Zune. The cell phone he kept in his pocket. Satisfied, he went to the kitchen, hung his backpack from the back of a stool, and helped himself to cold and congealed oatmeal. He gave the microwave wistful glances as he ate for pure sustenance.

Back outside—his stomach growling from the tease of a minimal breakfast—he joined the others in doing what little they could to undo the damage from the storm. Carlton had found some tools in the shed that might help: limb clippers, a wood saw, a hacksaw. Daniel looked at the larger trees lying like a lost game of Jenga all across the yard and realized how arbitrary and useless their efforts were going to be. Chainsaws buzzed in the distance like insects. Daniel knew they’d have to lure one or two of them over to get anything done on their yard.

“How’s the rest of the neighborhood?” Carlton asked as the two of them worked to pull a limb from the tangle.

“Lots of trees down,” he said. “One against the house next door, but not as bad as ours. Shingles off everywhere.” He started to say something about the girl and the charger, but refrained for some reason. He didn’t want to mention her even though he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Did you see any cars moving about? Any work trucks or utility trucks?”

“No. There were people out surveying the damage, though. And I did see one of the power lines down. A tree came down right across it.”

“When’s Hunter coming home?” Zola asked, voicing what Daniel had been thinking.

“I’m sure he’ll get here as soon as he can. They’re probably working to clear the roads as we speak.” Carlton glanced over at their mom, who had turned away and removed her gloves to get something out of her eye. “We might want to prepare ourselves that it’ll be tomorrow before he gets home.”