Wilson Harp - EMP

The boys waved back and went back to their vigilant sentry work.

I shook my head as I thought about what Lexi would say if she had seen this. She was afraid of guns. She never grew up around them and did not like them. I didn’t care one way or another. To me, they were just another tool. One I grew up with, but found no particular joy in using. It was like a hammer. Lexi was afraid of them and didn’t want one in the house, so I acquiesced to her demand.

But now they were needful things. The right tool for the right job. At night, the dogs were set free in the field and the snares were set along the edges. But in the daytime, a stray rabbit taken with a .22 meant not only saving our crops, but more meat in our stew.

I dreamed about Lexi and Emma often, but each day I felt further from them. I didn’t know if they were okay, or even alive. I pushed that thought out of my mind. I would just have to find them. Eventually. Some how.

Noon was approaching and that meant Mom would be cooking. She always found something to cook. Recently it’s been dandelion greens with a little oil and salt. Not much of a lunch, but it fills the belly and it’s as bad as I would have imagined.

The soybean fields across the road were full of green, but there wasn’t much in the way of a meal from that. Some people suggested we could harvest the crop when ready and process oil from the beans and trade it to other towns. I didn’t think there was much chance of us finding people who would want to trade anything useful for some cooking oil. But who knows. It would give us something to do and we would have plenty of cooking oil for ourselves, in any case.

As my parent’s house came into view, I saw my dad washing my car. I blinked a couple of times and then looked back. He was washing my car. I approached the driveway and walked up behind him. He was on his knees with a soapy wet rag washing one of the tires.

“Taking her out for a spin?” I asked.

Dad turned and smiled at me. “No, just had some leftover water from laundry and didn’t want to just dump it in the ditch.

I nodded. Soapy water was dumped in the ditch, cooking water was saved for the fields.

“So, you figured you would make sure my car was the best looking one on the street?”

“I would have washed mine, but you’re blocking me in the garage,” he said.

He started to stand and I reached over and took his arm. He nodded and smiled as I helped him to his feet.

“You finally convinced your mom I shouldn’t be on the digging crews, and for some reason that’s one of the things she won’t forget. So I’m stuck at home helping her clean. You would be amazed at how boring retirement is when you can’t watch television.”

“Or dig latrines.”

“Or dig latrines,” he repeated. “What’s in the satchel?”

“A radio. Anne told Ted to let me take a look at it. Don’t know what I can do.”

Dad picked up the bucket of water and carried it toward the ditch. “You were always taking apart my stuff when you were a kid. Always wanted to know how it worked.”

“I always got it back together.”

“Except the remote.”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Except the remote.”

“Maybe you can see what is busted and figure a way to fix it,” Dad said.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m not doing work on one of the digging crews or working the field.”

Dad dumped the bucket and looked back at me. “Now you know how I feel.”

I walked back into the garage with him.

“Nice job on the car, by the way,” I said. “You did that with just a rag and that bucket of dirty laundry water?”

“That’s how we used to have to wash cars. You remember, that’s how we washed cars together when you was a kid.”

“I remember. Just seems so long ago.”

“Looks like your mom has lunch ready,” Dad said as we went in the kitchen.

He was right. Mom had set out two bowls of soup. She looked at me with surprise.

“David, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be home for lunch.”

“That’s okay, Mom. I didn’t tell you.”

“Let me get another bowl and I’ll split some of this up. I just wish we had some crackers left.”

“No, Mom. I’m fine. I had something to eat in town. You two enjoy lunch, I’m going to go work on the radio.”

I wasn’t sure Mom bought the story that I wasn’t hungry, but she made no more mention of dividing their meager meal with me. I wasn’t all that hungry, anyway. I was more concerned about opening the radio and seeing if I could somehow figure out what was damaged and worried if I could figure out how to fix it.

I put my satchel on the bed and took out the case containing the radio. Ted had given me a pack of four AA batteries the radio could run on if needed. I set them aside on the end table by the bed and opened the case itself.

It was smaller than I imagined. It had an attachable hand microphone, like an old CB from the trucker movies I watched growing up. It also had a hand crank to provide a charge in case the batteries were dead. I took the radio over to the desk I had cleared off that morning in preparation.

That looked like a good place to start, so I turned the crank. Nothing. No indication the crank did anything. I pulled out the small tool kit I had in the second desk drawer since I was ten or so and started dissembling the complicated device.

I had been working on it for at least an hour when I heard shouting coming from the kitchen. I stopped and listened.

Mom was screaming and swearing at Dad for some reason. I couldn’t understand Dad’s replies, but it sounded like he was trying to calm her down. She was angry because the refrigerator was broken and he had been promising all week to get Sears to come and deliver a new one.

I sighed as I tried to focus on the radio again. I still had no idea what was wrong with it, but I did have most of it pulled apart correctly. One small plastic tab had snapped off, but that was typical when messing with electronics like this. I pulled out a plastic bag from the desk and selected several bundles of copper wire. I had found them while going through Dad’s toolshed and thought they might come in handy at some point. They likely were from when I was a kid and played with electronics.

A few of the components of the radio had a strong odor, like burnt plastic. I figured those were probably the parts that had been damaged during the EMP. I set those aside and tried to figure out what I could do with the rest.

“David!”

I jumped out of the chair and was at the door to my room before I realized it. My name had been shrieked by Mom and it was full of panic and fear.

I threw the door open and was down the hall in three quick steps.

“Pat? Pat! David! Wake up Pat!”

Mom was in the garage. I raced through the kitchen and saw Mom kneeling over Dad as he lay on the garage floor beside their car.

Tears were streaming down Mom’s cheeks. Dad’s eyes opened and he blinked a few times. His right hand raised and then fell back down.

I hurried down the few steps and moved behind Mom.

“I’m here. Did he fall?” I asked.

“Oh David, he’s awake. He’s awake.”

“Did he fall, Mom? Did he hit his head?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Help me up,” Dad said. His arms started moving and his eyes opened. He shut them again and exhaled deeply. “To the sofa. Get me to the sofa.”

I reached down and tried to pull him up, but he was dead weight. I was able to get a good grip under his arms and was able to lift him most of the way up.

“Grab his legs,” I told Mom.

She nodded and picked up his legs.

“Good,” Dad said. “I don’t think I wanted to lay there anymore.”