Wilson Harp - EMP

When illuminated by street lights and the ambient glow of modern life, the sounds were recognizable and ordinary. In the darkness that smothered the town tonight, however, it brought to mind all of the fears and terrors I had as a very young child.

We are all afraid of the dark to some extent. It’s the fear of the unknown, and more, the fear we can’t see something that might be able to see us.

Lightning slashed through the sky and I could see the Johnson’s house clearly. Some animal was walking through the yard. I barely saw it. It may have been a cat, opossum, or even a skunk. The image was burned onto my eyes, but not clearly enough to be sure.

The thunder rolled in a few seconds later. I put on a pair of jeans and left my room. I could feel a strong draft of air coming down the hall and knew the front door stood open.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked softly as I turned the corner.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew Dad stood near the open doorway.

“Never could sleep through storms.” Dad lied. He never woke, even in the worst storms, when I was young.

“Have the rains started yet?” I made my way through the living room to stand by the door.

“No, not yet. Should be soon. Smells like it is about to drop.”

“Think it will hail?”

“Hope not,” he said. “We sure don’t need to lose the wheat.”

We stood in silence as we waited for the rain to start.

“Do you dream about food, Davey?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “Mostly I dream about Lexi and Emma. But I dream about food sometimes.”

“I feel guilty about that, Davey. I asked you to make time to come down here. I thought you needed to spend time with your mom, and I needed something to take my mind off of things. I didn’t mean for you to leave your family behind.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. It’s no one’s fault. If things… if things were different, we might have all been down here together. But things are what they are.”

The rain started to fall. It was a heavy rain that fell in solid sheets. It wasn’t a gradual rain, it was one which starts like someone threw a switch. The smell of wet earth rushed into our open house. The rain brought the frigid air from the upper atmosphere with it and I shivered as the temperature dropped,

“What food do you dream about, Dad?”

“Sounds odd, but cookies mostly.”

“Mom’s snickerdoodles?”

Dad chuckled. “No, but don’t tell her that. I dream about chocolate chips cookies for the most part. They have always been my favorite.”

“Cookies do sound good. In fact, anything bread-like would be a dream.”

“Well, when we get the wheat in, separated, and ground, I would get ready for basic, flat bread for a while.”

“Flat bread?”

“Not a lot of yeast, I’m figuring.”

“What about sourdough?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe someone in town will know how to make bread from scratch. Maybe Sharon Little has a book that has that trick.”

“Dad, Sharon took her life yesterday.”

The sound of the rain filled the silence for a few minutes.

“What about her boys? Did she take them, too?”

“Yeah, she did.”

Dad swore under his breath.

“I’ll go over to her house and look for any books we can put to use tomorrow,” he said.

“Some people just crack under this pressure, I suppose,” I said.

“No. Cracking under the pressure is understandable. Giving up is unforgivable. She didn’t need to take those boys with her. That shows her character more than anything else. She decided if life couldn’t be lived on her terms, then it wasn’t worth living for anyone.”

“I just want to get through tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.”

Dad put his hand on my arm. “Davey, I want you to get your family back. That is what I want. Me and your mom… we can do alright. If you think you can find a way to get back to Chicago, I think you should.”

“Thanks, Dad. I just don’t know how to even start. It’s almost five hundred miles. I figure even if I can walk twenty miles a day, that is still almost a month. And I would need to make sure I had plenty of food and water.”

“Well, figure a pound of food a day, and a quart of water. That’s what? Eighty pounds of food and water for the trip?”

“I don’t think I could make a trip with an eighty pound pack strapped to my back. And I would have to cross the Mississippi. I just don’t know.”

“Don’t give up, Davey. And don’t look at the problem. That will make you feel overwhelmed. Look for the solution, like you are with the radio.”

“I don’t know that I have a solution for the radio. Not yet anyway.”

“Don’t give up. If you are working on it, then likely there are others that are as well. If so, then we should be able to communicate with other towns when you get it working.”

“What about you, Dad? What do you want? If I left, what would you have to keep you and Mom going?”

“I don’t know. To eat a chocolate chip cookie,” he laughed. “That would be a good start. I’d like the thrill of feeling the wind blow on my face while riding in a car. I’d like a reason to have to put on a suit again. I like my old suit, but I’m afraid it will hang in my closet until it rots.”

He turned to me. “Say, not to be morbid, but when I pass, bury me in that suit.”

“I really don’t want to think about that, Dad,” I whispered.

The rain had shifted to a steady shower while we had talked. The lightning and thunder didn’t seem as close, but each time the sky lit up, we could see nothing but a solid roof of clouds.

“We probably shouldn’t be standing in this doorway. Might catch a cold,” I said.

“You go on back to bed. I’ll stay up and watch the rain a bit more.”

I pulled Dad in for a hug. He patted my shoulder and I made my way back to my room. This night was a reflection of our current situation. We knew things were happening outside of our ability to perceive them, but we would have to wait until the storm passed and the morning dawned in order to see what we had experienced.

I shut the door to my room and slid my jeans off. I sat on the edge of my bed and thought about what Dad said. Could I start the trip up to Chicago? What would I need to take with me? Could I go alone?

The bands of raiders that had burned and looted Wilcox were a major concern. If I left and was killed on the way, then I couldn’t help Lexi and Emma, nor could I help Mom and Dad. I would just be dead.

I felt guilty as I thought that. It felt like I was justifying my cowardice. I suppose I was, to a certain point. But the reality was, I could do something useful here. I could fix the radio and get us in contact with others who were keeping their towns together.

Once we had a way to talk to others, I could figure a way to get to Chicago and start looking for my family.

Lighting lit my room again, and I yawned. I was too tired to work on the radio, anyway, so I decided to get some sleep. I lay down and soon I was dreaming of Emma and chocolate chip cookies at a birthday party.

The next morning I woke and looked at the window. Sunshine should have pushed me awake some time before. I pulled my pocket watch from the nightstand and looked at it. Nine o’clock. This was the latest I had slept in a long time. Months, maybe a year.

I looked over at the window and saw the sky was dark and gray. I sat up, stretched my arms above my head and listened for a minute. The sound of rain was soft and steady, not like the wind-swept torrents when I stood at the door last night. I heard some movement in the kitchen, so I knew at least one of my parents was awake.

I grabbed my jeans and shoes and got dressed. I went into the kitchen where my Dad had a candle burning on the table. He was reading a book.