Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

She was jarred out of her thoughts by the sound of a chair scraping along the deck. Her father-in-law dragged a chair over to them from the patio table.

“Mind if I join the ladies’ club for a few minutes?” he asked, placing a cooler on the floor next to his chair.

“Not if that’s another round of beers,” blurted Samantha. “Did I actually say that? I’m sorry, Tim. Two beers appears to be my limit tonight.”

“This is the most I’ve seen her drink since I can remember,” said Linda, laughing. “Tim, I have to thank you and Amy again for everything. We’re all still a little legless from the ride, but we’ll be earning our keep tomorrow,” she added.

“Same with my crew,” said Samantha. “We’ll turn to in the morning and make breakfast for everyone. We should set up a rotation, if that’s all right with Amy.”

“I don’t think you’ll get an argument from Amy. Retirement for her meant retirement from all domestic duties. I must have missed that in the original contract,” said Tim.

“It’s in small print on the back page of your marriage certificate,” said Linda.

“I’m pretty sure she added it after the fact,” said Tim. “Just as well, between you and me.”

“Oh shit, he didn’t go there,” said Samantha.

“He can get worse. At least Amy’s out of earshot,” said Kate, finishing her beer.

Tim fished a bottle out of the cooler and set it on the table next to the bottle opener. Kate gripped the ice-cold pale ale and held it for moment. She resisted the beer commercial cliché of lifting it to her sweat-glistened cheek.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” he said, holding Kate’s glance long enough for her to get the message.

“Me too,” she said.

“Refresh on the beers?” he said, placing two more on the table. “I always carry bribes.”

Samantha raised her new bottle. “To the Fletchers and the best damn dinner I’ve had in years. I almost felt like none of this was happening.”

“Well, the timing couldn’t have been better. Harvest is in full swing,” said Tim, with a chuckle.

They all broke out laughing, drawing stares from the gaggle of teenagers sitting by the fire pit behind the deck.

“To the apocalypse!” said Linda.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Kate.

“You’ll drink to anything,” said Linda, causing Samantha to cackle.

“Here’s to the three of you bringing the kids here safely. That’s what really counted today,” said Tim.

The laughter died off, and they clinked bottles, settling in for a serious talk.

“Should we grab Amy?” said Kate.

“No,” Tim said. “She didn’t want to hear all of the gory details, and she’s worried sick about Alex. Head in the sand is her preferred mode of operation when it comes to the uncomfortable stuff. So… the SUV is in the garage. Best way to keep it out of sight for now. It might be possible to sink it in the pond if we could get it over there at night—quietly. There’s not a lot of water access on this side of the pond, aside from the walking path over there,” said Tim, pointing past the barn to the flickering points of light visible through the trees.

“The other side has too many houses. All locals,” said Kate.

“Nosy locals,” said Tim, “and everybody has known everybody for generations. I don’t think the BMW would remain a secret for long—especially if someone saw us pushing it into the pond.”

“How about the woods?” Samantha suggested.

“Fine for now, but once the foliage dies, anyone walking the property could stumble across it,” said Linda.

“How worried do we need to be?” asked Tim.

“The kid claimed his dad was some bigwig in one of the local militias,” said Kate.

“He said his dad put him in charge of Waterboro, which sounded a little crazy to me,” said Linda. “They were sitting around the Hannigans parking lot, throwing back beers like, uh—”

“Like it was the apocalypse, and the rules no longer applied to them,” said Kate, tipping her bottle back for a swig.

“His ID says Nathan Russell. Does that sound like anyone Alex met in the York County brigade, or whatever it’s called?” asked Tim.

“I have no idea. Name doesn’t register,” said Kate.

Samantha frowned. “Alex talks to those crazies?”

“He got in touch with the York County group to do an interview for his website,” said Kate.

“Thesurvivaldad.com?” said Linda.

Kate nodded. “He went to one of their public meetings down in Sanford. Had a long talk with the founder and a few of his deputies, or whatever they’re called. Parts of the interview were picked up by the Portland Times . Definitely some tinfoil hats in the crowd, but Alex was impressed with the organization. Whatever we ran across in Waterboro felt different.”

“Scary,” said Samantha.

“We have to assume the kid was connected to something bigger than a dysfunctional family. He was dead serious about being the new sheriff in town. That’s why I drilled him between the eyes,” said Linda.

“Jesus,” said Samantha.

“She’s right. He had more than Budweiser coursing through his veins. He had authority. You could see it,” said Kate.

“Then we better keep the Beemer in the garage and cover the windows. I’m sure someone saw you roll through downtown Limerick,” said Tim.

“We saw a few people milling around the variety store,” said Kate.

“Let’s hope they didn’t recognize you,” said Tim.

“We have to assume they did,” said Linda.

“Then we have some work to do. Alex has several bins filled with stuff like motion detectors, trip flares—”

“He doesn’t have trip flares,” declared Linda.

“Oh yes, he does,” answered Kate, rolling her eyes.

“—security monitors, weatherproof cameras, spools of insulated wire, relays, inverters,” Tim continued. “All kinds of shit down there, and I have no idea what to do with it.”

“Don’t look at me,” Kate said. “That’s Alex’s show. He’s the IT guy at our house.”

“Same with Charlie,” said Linda.

Samantha smiled. “I think I can help.”

“Aren’t you a lawyer?” said Kate.

“Not me. Abby. She’s all over this stuff at home. Seriously. She reconfigured all of our electronics. Ran wires through the floors and walls for speakers. I guarantee she’ll be able to figure out how to get that stuff working. It’ll be up to us to figure out where to install it,” said Samantha.

“That’s the easy part. Alex has it all mapped out,” said Tim.

“How much time does he spend on this?” said Linda.

“It keeps him busy,” said Kate.

“Sounds like an understatement,” said Linda.

“Don’t get me started…” said Kate.

“But here we are,” said Tim, “in the midst of another disaster, and we’re ready this time.”

Kate raised her beer. “I’ll drink to that. He was right again.”

“If you don’t mind, Samantha, I’d like to show Abby the map Alex produced and let her dig around those boxes. Tomorrow,” said Tim.

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe she can make sense of the backup solar power system. The battery banks stopped taking any charge after the power went out. Either the EMP fried the panels, or the charge controller got hit. Probably both. Alex has backups for everything, all disconnected from the grid or any wires that could conduct EMP energy. He felt pretty confident that the backup could be used after an EMP attack. The solar panel bank on the roof of the barn is not connected to anything. It should be fine. I didn’t want to connect it to the battery bank without Alex’s help. If he’s a day or two out, it might make sense to try to get the system up and running, especially if we’re going to hook up all of this surveillance gear. I have no idea what kind of strain that stuff will put on the remaining battery charge.”