William Stone: How We Survive: EMP Survival in a Powerless World

“Tami first,” he said.

“Awww, Dad!”

“Sorry, Justin,” his father said. “Fifteen outranks twelve.”

“Not fair!” he protested. “I so didn’t ask to be born second!”

“Go ahead, Tami.”

“Justin isn’t letting me on the computer, and he’s totally been on it for, like, ten, fifteen minutes, which isn’t fair because I have so many emails to send after that crazy dress that Emily wore yesterday—”

Justin blurted, “See, Dad! I’m using the computer for homework, and she’s gossiping on it! Tell me that makes any sense!”

Hatfield stepped between them. “Here’s how we settle this. You can both leave the computer alone for the morning and get to school early.”

“What?” Tami demanded.

“That’s right. That’s how we settle arguments in this family. You compromise, or you both lose. Kind of how it works in real life, right?”

He nudged them into a reluctant hug, then watched them swallow their anger as they headed down the hallway to the front door. “What happened to goodbye, Dad?”

“Goodbye, Dad,” they sighed in unison before stepping outside.

The whole thing made Hatfield grin. As much as he didn’t like his kids at each other’s throats, he knew they loved each other under all that scowling and territorial spatting. Plus, as an only child, he would have loved to have had a sibling—even one who could be a pain at times.

From behind, he heard Jess ask, “Is that really how it works in this family?”

He turned, saw her standing there, hands on her hips, a facetious grimace on her face. “Sure. Compromise is important.”

She gave her head an impish shake. “That wasn’t what I meant. I meant the part about rankings. Last time I checked, thirty-seven outranked thirty-six.”

He stepped up to her, met her face to face, arms around her waist. “Yeah, by three months.”

“Three months, three years, what’s the difference? I outrank you, so that means I get what I want on TV, on the radio, for dinner…”

He wet her jawline with kisses. “You know, I’m far more interested in that part about compromises.”

“Too late,” she said. “I outrank you, and I’d rather talk about how much I outrank you.”

The kisses continued until she slapped him away. “At ease, soldier. Last time I checked, you have a job to get to.”

He gave her a playful tap on the behind and backpedaled to the hallway. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her face melted into a grin. “I think I’m beginning to like outranking you.”

Strapping on his backpack, he headed to the door. “Long as I get to tease you for being an old lady,” he said, buckling into laughter.

“Don’t push it,” she said.

“Have a good day!”

“Bye, honey.”

WITH THE SKY erupting into golden joy, it seemed like a wasted good day to drive to work. Living only a few miles away from the shop meant walking was always an option. Today it felt like a must. Unable to wipe the grin from his face as he soaked up the rays, Hatfield started on his way.

A few steps outside of his front door, he heard a voice from the side. “Hey, Trevor!”

He turned and spotted a delivery man, headed to the door with a large box. Not recognizing the face right away, he leaned in closer, realizing it was his friend. “Randall? Didn’t know you had a new job. You moonlighting?”

His friend set the box onto the front porch and sighed. “I wish. They had some layoffs at the sporting goods store, so I’m doing this until I can find something else. Not a bad job, I guess. Could be worse.”

Hatfield grinned, not sure what to say. Losing a well-paying job must have hurt, but it seemed rude to openly say so. “So… good luck to you. The economy’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.” He nursed his back a little. “You buy a new anvil or something?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing like that. Just a little something from my mom’s estate. They had this generator. You know, just in case worst comes to worst.”

“Good idea. You never know when the grid could collapse.”

Hatfield scanned his friend’s face, not sure if he was joking. “Really? To be honest, it never occurred to me that my dad could be right about that. I always thought he was crazy. Just imagining the danger—or at least exaggerating it.”

“Yeah, you know how it is, though. You never realize how wise your parents are until it’s too late. Like me: My dad always used to say you should have a job in reserve if something happens to the one you have. I thought he was crazy, too.”

With a grim smile, Hatfield nodded.

He took a look at his friend, curiosity itching at him enough to ask a question. “You get along with your dad?”

“Not really. He was old school, used to give us these spankings that made our butts raw for days. I guess I can’t blame him; that’s how he was raised, but jeez, why impose it on your kids?”

Hatfield studied his face, recalling the time when he felt the same way about his own dad. When he couldn’t wait to get away, to be free from all the old-school crap his dad wanted to impose on him.

He listened to Randall drone on about this slight or that, but the words lost their focus, and Hatfield drifted into a sharp memory he couldn’t shake if he wanted to—the day he took off.

The breakfast table was quiet as always, polite chatter only. Once they’d finished saying grace, there was nothing to talk about anyway. Trevor seemed to be in a world all his own, a world where he’d never have to listen to anything the old man had to say.

He watched his dad eating, then shifted his focus to his mom, knowing something was different about this morning. If all went well, he’d never see either of them again.

His dad ate quickly as always. Once done, he stood up and said, “Don’t take too long at the table, son. That garden’s waiting for you.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

His dad stooped, met him eye to eye. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, sir.” The thought that he might never have to address him again in life brought a grin to Trevor’s face that he couldn’t hide.

Before stepping out, he addressed his mom. “You keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t get lazy. We’re not running a resort here.”

“Yes,” she said.

With the trailer empty except for the two of them, Trevor couldn’t stop staring at his mother. He wanted to ask why she put up with him all those years. But he knew he’d never get a straight answer.

“He loves you, you know,” she told him.

Trevor wasn’t sure where that came from. He guessed she could read the resentment on his face. “I guess that’s how he shows it, huh?”

His mom’s eyes went to the table.

“Push-ups, chores, rules against anything fun. Must be great to be one of those kids whose dads don’t love them.”

Mom didn’t have a comeback. She sat in silence then checked her watch. “Okay, time to get to it. Your father wants all the planting done before noon.”

They left the trailer together, squinting in the radiant sun. Trevor thought it would be a great day for a baseball game or maybe just hanging out with his friends, Kyle and Brick. As he knelt in the garden, he let the rays wash over him, and everything he hated about living in a trailer and having a drill sergeant for a dad faded away, immediately replaced by visions of cars and girls and parties with kids whose parents were away for the weekend. Life didn’t have to be an endless series of chores and lectures about the end of the world, he reminded himself. It might even be fun.

His mother headed to the river as usual for that time of day, carrying a box of dishes and other items that needed washing. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on you,” she said.