Adam Drake - Blackout

They rattled down the sidewalk for a while, both men lost in thought.

“I just realized something,” Ethan said.

“Now it’s your turn to enlighten me, you old goat.”

“There hasn’t been a news or police chopper flying overhead this whole time.”

“No, you’re right. I ain’t seen or heard one at all.”

“I figure the police would be watching from overhead by now. If they could.”

“If they could.”

“So, if choppers and planes can’t take off anymore, what happened to all the ones that were in the sky at the time this occurred?”

Wyatt paused and the rattling mercifully stopped. “God damn, that is one scary thought.”

They both looked up at the sky as if expecting to find a plane descending upon them.

“Jesus,” Ethan said. “Guess Baldy did see something. How many planes are in the sky at any one time?”

“Well, we got the airport, so that means lots of air traffic. I don’t know. Lots. But even one plane in the sky is one too many when the power goes out.”

“And what if this crap has effected the entire country? Hell, the whole world?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t even want to think on about that. Too terrifying to contemplate.” Then he spotted something further ahead.

“What,” Ethan said, seeing his expression. “What is it now?”

A grin spread across Wyatt’s face and his eyes lit up.

In the distance he spotted the one thing he needed to find right at that moment.

An ambulance.

Nate

Despite wearing boots and a long jacket, Nate rode the mountain bike like he was born to it.

At a guess, it had been seven or eight years since he’d ridden anything with two wheels that didn’t have a motor.

He sped down the street, navigating around accidents and dead vehicles. The only real obstacles were people, but those he just yelled at and they quickly scampered out of his way.

Unger’s unscheduled check-in would have to wait a little while longer. First, Nate needed to make a pit stop and freshen up. Gotta look good for the boss.

Through a maze of avenues and cross-streets he arrived at a squat house perched close to the road. It was of ancient design, compact and square.

An old hippy woman sat on the front stoop, smoking a joint. As Nate rode up, she looked him over and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Nice bike, Nate. Where’d ya get it?”

Nate stopped and got off the bike. The seat was a little low, he’d adjust it later. “Stranger gave it to me.”

The eyebrows stayed up. “Gave it to you? How come?”

Nate leaned his new acquisition against the side of the stairs and shrugged. “He didn’t have much of a choice.”

The eyebrows dropped, and the woman resumed smoking, the conversation all but forgotten. Nate sat down next to her.

“Mind if I partake?” he asked.

The woman coughed a laugh and passed the joint over. “When have you ever not?”

Nate took a long drag, letting himself relax. It had been a stressful morning. He needed this.

The street was quiet, almost death-like. Usually cars used this avenue to move between the major roads at either end. But not now. Maybe never again.

Returning the joint Nate said, “How has your morning been, Crystal? Any planes drop out of the sky?”

Crystal sat back against the stairs, smoke forming wisps around her face and trailing through her long gray hair. “Nah, nothing like that.” She thought on the question a moment then turned her sleepy eyes to Nate. “Why?”

Nate laughed at her confusion. Crystal hardly got riled up about anything. The world could end and she’d still be sitting right here on her stoop, smoking or chatting with the neighbors like it was the only business worth getting up to.

And maybe the world was ending.

Unperturbed by his manner, Crystal looked up at the sky lost in idle thought. It was a pose you could almost always find her in.

He said, “You have no idea what’s going on out there, do you?”

“Out where?”

He pointed toward the street and waved his arm. “There, out there in the world. You don’t know what’s happening.”

Crystal shrugged. “Sure I know.”

“What then?”

“A bunch of convoluted crap, that’s what. Just only a little different than yesterday, but still shitty as always.”

Nate laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Perhaps in more ways than she knew.

Crystal said, “Doesn’t matter what happens out there as long as I got this right here.” She took a another drag.

Nate laughed as he stood and headed toward the side of the house.

“Hey, why are you here so early in the day?” she said.

“Finished a job early,” Nate said with a mischievous grin.

“Dare I ask?” she said.

“Nope!” Nate walked down the side of the little house and entered the backyard through a gate. Overgrowth and weeds choked up every square inch of the back of the property. The high fence, coupled with the entanglement of small trees and other foliage, blocked the view of any neighbors who might peer over.

And that was one reason why Nate had chosen this place.

The back door to the basement had a huge padlock on its latch. Nate fished out his keys and opened it.

Once inside, he closed the door. Darkness greeted him. For kicks he tried the light switch. Nothing.

He carefully moved over to the only window and yanked the curtains open. While doing so he knocked over old cans, and piles of paper from a table.

Muted sunlight filtered in through the grimy window. He’d never opened those curtains since he started to rent this place from Crystal. Couldn’t risk anyone looking in.

The room was at the ass end of a typical basement, unfurnished save for a single plastic chair and lined with several old work tables. Boxes full of Crystal’s crap were jammed into every available spot. The old hippy was a pack-rat. Anyone sorting through this stuff would have an aneurysm just from considering it.

Perfect for hiding things in.

Nate moved a table away from one wall, then removed a piece of paneling, revealing a small crawl space. From it he yanked out a large black dufflebag and dumped it on the table.

Inside were guns and rifles. He ran his hand over the neat pile of gleaming dark metal. God, he loved these things.

He took the pistol out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Normally he would have dumped it by now, but he had a hunch that forensics were quite possibly a thing of the past. Besides, the gun was too nice to get rid of. Worth the risk keeping it.

He selected a shotgun and a box of rounds, then sat on the little plastic chair which squeaked in protest. One by one he feed rounds into the shotgun.

This was not his home. There wasn’t a cot or sleeping bag here nor had he ever intended this to be a place to hang out for more than a couple of hours. The less time spent with all this illegal weaponry, the better.

Crystal didn’t care, which was what he paid her rent for. Initially, he kept his distance, but her casual manner and cavalier approach to things drew him into conversations with the old hippy. Over the years they became acquaintances, of a sort. Nate would even venture to say she was a kind of sister to him.

Nate did have sisters, three of them. But two were dead, one by suicide, the other by overdose. The third was in prison down on the coast for fraud. He never spoke to her, nor her him. They both preferred it that way, which suited Nate just fine. Family was something that could be used against you. You could try to convince yourself that the scumbags you worked with or worked for would never mess with your family. But at some point they are eventually brought into the equation, especially in a dispute.