Robison Wells - Blackout

“It’s been a long night,” she said.

Jack spoke up. “Do you mind if I turn on the news?”

“Go ahead,” her father replied, his hands and voice shaking. “It’s all crap.”

Jack sat on the well-worn couch and found the remote for the old TV.

Aubrey helped her dad as he fumbled with the can opener, cutting the top off a small can of generic chili.

“. . . those reports from a few minutes ago that the Glen Canyon Dam terrorists had been apprehended are now being called false. Officials are urging everyone—including those on blogs and social media—to not spread unconfirmed rumors.”

Aubrey paused in front of the TV. She saw for the first time the footage of the collapsed dam—the crumbled cement clinging to the canyon walls as a torrent of water spewed into the Grand Canyon. There were still boats on the lake, kicking up a stream of churning white foam as they fought the current to reach the marina. It had still been light when these videos were taken; she wondered how much worse it was now.

“I’m going to change,” she mumbled, and headed to her room.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, taking in a deep breath.

Her room was small—a tiny space with thin walls and a linoleum floor—but she felt safe for the first time that night. It was the one place in the entire town where she didn’t have to put on a show, where she didn’t have to be someone else.

Sometimes, in her room, she didn’t even feel like her dad’s caretaker. In her room—she was free.

She took off the heavy sheepskin coat and inspected her dress in front of the mirror on her closet door. It was a complete loss. Aside from the mud stains, which were everywhere, the satin was snagged and scratched from every time she’d pushed through bushes or waded through alfalfa. Even if she could get it cleaned, it would look terrible. She slipped it off and tossed it in a pile in the corner.

First dance, over.

She wondered where she was going, what clothes she should wear. Her wardrobe was extensive now—all stolen from the mall in the city—but most of what Nicole had talked Aubrey into getting was too delicate for the uncertainty that lay ahead. The expensive jeans, the loose, thin tops, the cute sandals. Aubrey didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she’d be on her own, and that the few times she’d be around people she’d be invisible.

She picked a pair of jeans that, while still expensive, seemed durable, like they could handle the outdoors. She layered her tops—a T-shirt, a long-sleeve button-up plaid, and a sweater. She didn’t have nice hiking boots, so she pulled on a recently acquired pair of cross trainers.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t the old worn-out Aubrey she used to be, but she wasn’t the stylish popular girl Nicole had helped her become, either. She was half and half. She wasn’t anyone.

Aubrey plopped down on the bed and put her head in her hands. What was she going to do? She could take her .22 with her, but she couldn’t live off the land, not forever. And going into the city wouldn’t help: sure, she’d have access to food and clothes that she could steal on a whim, but she’d be homeless. She couldn’t stay invisible forever.

She wanted to cry, but stopped herself. It wouldn’t help anything, and she had cried enough that night.

Jack was on the edge of his seat, staring at the TV when Aubrey came back out of her room. He didn’t look up.

“What’s the news?” she asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Roundups,” he said. “It’s not just here.”

Aubrey’s stomach turned, and she slid down onto the seat next to him.

“Apparently it started a couple days ago,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “They’ve been keeping it quiet. It’s mostly rumors at this point, but it’s happening all over the place. The official word is that it’s for protection, but others say it’s for some kind of testing. The National Guard has been going door to door.”

“Testing,” she repeated. Her chest felt hollow, as if she were collapsing in on herself.

“Maybe the terrorists spread poison or something,” Jack said.

Aubrey nodded, though she knew he was wrong. She didn’t know what her invisibility had to do with terrorists, but she knew—she just knew—they were after her.

Jack met her gaze. “We should turn ourselves in.”

She was suddenly panicked. “What? No.”

“What if we’ve been poisoned? If they’re testing for something, what if we have it?”

“We don’t,” she said, standing up. She nervously ran a hand through her hair. Everything was falling apart.

“Here, look.” Jack pointed to the TV. “This is up by Salt Lake.”

It was a helicopter view of a dark road. Below them was a long convoy of vehicles. The news anchors were speculating about the destination of the convoy, listing half a dozen military installations in Utah and Idaho. They weren’t explaining anything about who was in the buses or why.

“Why would they be testing people somewhere else?” Aubrey asked, trying to breathe calmly. “Why not just do it here, in the high school gym or something?”

“Maybe we’re contagious?”

“No,” she said.

“I really think we need to turn ourselves in,” he said. “What if we’re making your dad sick?”

“No,” Aubrey repeated, and suddenly realized that her dad was gone. “Where did he go?”

Jack’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “He said he was going outside for a smoke.”

“Great.” Her voice was quiet and angry.

“Listen,” Jack said, muting the TV and turning to face her. His voice was even, but nervous. “I know that tonight was crazy. I know you and Nate were close.”

“We weren’t close,” she snapped, pacing into the kitchen.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever. This sucks, but the important thing is that we don’t get into more trouble.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, moving her hands like she couldn’t figure out where to put them—from her hips to her face to her hair.

“What is going on?”

She was on the other side of the kitchen counter from him, and grabbed onto the edge for support. She didn’t want to tell him. She couldn’t.

She had to.

“Turn off the TV for a second,” she said.

Jack fumbled with the remote and then clicked it off. “What’s going on?” he repeated.

She was hyperventilating. She and Nicole had sworn that neither of them would tell another soul. But now Nicole was on a bus heading who-knows-where.

Aubrey stepped out from behind the counter, her knees feeling weak.

“Look at me.”

“What?”

“Just watch.” And then she disappeared. She saw the look on his face that she’d seen on so many others as she’d practiced. In their minds, she hadn’t just blinked out of sight, but she wasn’t there anymore. Confusion spread across his face.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

She reappeared, and his eyes slowly focused back on her.

She spoke before he could. “Tell me what you saw.”

He was plainly puzzled. “I’m not sure. Did you go back behind the counter?”

“Nope,” she said. “Right here the whole time.”

“But . . .” he started.

“Jack,” she said, taking an anxious step toward him. “This is why I can’t turn myself in. I’m like Nate.”

He just stared, more confused than scared, which Aubrey considered a small victory. “You’re not like Nate,” he finally said.

“I don’t know what Nate was,” she said. “But he was different. And I’m different, too. I think they’re testing to find us.”

Now Jack stood up. “What are you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m Aubrey, same as I’ve always been.”