The Blackout Read online

  The Blackout

  By:

  Stephanie Erickson

  Copyright ©2012 by Stephanie Erickson

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Calm

  1

  2

  3

  Darkness

  4

  5

  6

  Speculation

  7

  8

  9

  Monsters

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  Quiet

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  The Storm

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  The Rainbow

  32

  33

  34

  The Light

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  Acknowledgments

  Calm

  1.

  “The nature of the world is to be calm, and enhance and support life, and evil is an absence of the inclination of matter to be at peace.” – Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

  What a difference one hundred years can make. The 20th century saw the dawn of automobiles, the Internet, cell phones and the personal computer. All of which came to rely on one common denominator – electricity.

  The world hummed and clicked away, consuming more electricity than those who lived a century ago would have ever dreamed could exist. But it was a fragile existence, one easily shattered by the sun’s fiery tendrils.

  The light the world created blinded them. A storm was coming that would sweep across the globe like wildfire, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

  2.

  Molly was just finishing cleaning out her inbox when Cindy’s slender frame walked by the door. “Hey!” Molly called out.

  Cindy stopped and poked her head in. “Hey yourself. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I’m just finishing up here, and was going to get some dinner. Wanna come?”

  Cindy knew Molly was lonely and didn’t get much social contact when her husband was gone. Even though she had a lot to do, Molly needed her. “Sure! The kids don’t need to be picked up for a while, but I’m not quite ready to go yet. Can ya’ wait like fifteen or twenty minutes?”

  Molly smiled. Cindy was never quite ready to go. She had three kids and a sociable husband, so grading essays and preparing for the next class weren’t easily accomplished at home.

  “Sure, that sounds great. Just holler when you’re ready.”

  Molly, on the other hand, had lots of quiet time at home. Gary had already been gone for two nights and wouldn’t be back for another five. If nothing else, being a pilot’s wife left her with plenty of time to herself. It was an adjustment she hadn’t fully mastered, and she was grateful she wouldn’t be eating alone tonight.

  When Cindy left, Molly sifted through the night’s work, thinking she’d get a head start. She opened the file for her Modern Poetry class and took out the essay on top. “Mutability”, it was titled.

  What can a person rely on? Friends and lovers come in and out of a person’s life as often as they change their underwear.

  Oh Lord, she thought, and flipped to the end of it. Seven pages of this crap? She leaned back in her chair, pulled off her rimless glasses and rubbed her eyes; her habit when she didn’t want to embark on the task at hand. She sighed and uncapped her purple pen (she never used red - she found it too harsh, too judgmental, and way too negative) attempting to ready herself for the potential garbage she was about to trudge through.

  Four pages in, Cindy came to the rescue. She had pulled her long blonde hair back into a low ponytail and donned a gray blazer over her white blouse and khaki pants. She was always very put-together and stylish.

  “Ready!” she announced. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Thank God! This essay is a nightmare.” Molly paused, considering the options. “You know if I was alone I’d just go up to McDonald’s. So, what are you in the mood for?”

  Cindy frowned and wrinkled her nose. “Not McDonald’s. I don’t know how you can stay so thin and eat there as much as you do.”

  “I don’t eat there every day.”

  Cindy laughed. “I know, but still! If I’m going to eat that many calories, I want it to be worth it!”

  They walked to the stairwell together. Molly never took the elevator, so if one of her friends wanted to walk with her, they had to take the stairs. The building was only two stories high, and the elevator was installed in 1967. Molly didn’t trust it to get her where she needed to go reliably.

  “Whatever. McDonald’s is delicious,” Molly countered. “So, since you vetoed my suggestion, where do you want to go?”

  “I’m thinking pizza. How about the Pizza Garden?”

  They stepped outside and Molly assessed the situation. “It’s a nice evening. Pizza Garden sounds great.”

  The restaurant was only a few blocks from the campus, so walking was a no-brainer. Although they were likely to see some of their students, The Pizza Garden – with its homemade pizzas and calzones oozing with cheese and garlic – was well worth the risk.

  The walk through historic downtown was beautiful, with small shops and businesses on either side of the street. It was mid-October, and the temperature in northern Florida was ideal for an evening stroll.

  Molly pulled her navy blue cardigan a bit tighter and crossed her arms, trying to keep pace with Cindy. Cindy was at least a head taller than Molly – as most people were – so she had to work to keep up with Cindy’s stride.

  “Good Lord. Some of my classes this term are so defiant,” Cindy said. “They think everything is a negotiation. If I tell them I want a fifteen hundred-word paper on Twelfth Night they try to haggle me down to seven-fifty. I’m like, really? Fifteen hundred words isn’t that many for a Lit major. So quit your whining and just do it! I can’t believe they pull this crap with some of the other teachers. I know Terry wouldn’t tolerate that. I mean, are they doing that to you?” Her pace quickened with her declining mood, and Molly struggled to keep up.

  “Well no, but I don’t think we have that many of the same-” Cindy cut her off.

  “So, what is it about me, Molly? Do I look like I don’t know how to teach the material? Do I look like I need a nineteen or twenty-year-old to swoop in and rescue me from the burden of teaching Shakespeare? What is it?”

  She turned to Molly with unbridled frustration in her eyes as they walked, and Molly only met her gaze for a moment. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she knew better than to not watch where she was going.

  Molly chuckled a bit, but not at her. It was comical how passionate they were about their craft, and sometimes the students just didn’t get it. Particularly those who took Shakespeare or Modern Poetry for an “easy elective.” It was nearly impossible to get through to them, but it didn’t stop most of the faculty from trying. It sounded to Molly like Cindy had ended up with an entire class of “easy ele
ctives”.

  “Cindy, you have to try not to take it so personally. Some kids want to get the best grade possible by doing the least amount of work. It’s how they’ll approach their whole lives. I’m sure you’re not the first person they’ve tried that crap on, and you certainly won’t be the last. You just have to stick to your guns and lay down the law. They’ll learn by mid-terms not to try that stuff with you anymore.”

  Cindy sighed as they approached the hostess at The Pizza Garden. She was – of course – a student they both had. “Hey Dr. Nicholas. Dr. Bonham. Table for two?”

  “Please, Shelly,” Molly said, thankful to have remembered her name. There were only a few thousand students at the college, but Molly often had a hundred of them per semester, and this was her third year on the faculty.

  Cindy smiled half-heartedly at the girl as she scooted into the cement bench across the table. “Your waiter will be right with y’all,” Shelly said and walked away.

  Cindy jumped right back into their conversation, despite the brief interruption. “It’s hard not to take it personally, ya know? I mean, why take the class if you don’t care at least a little bit about Shakespeare?”

  Molly cleared her throat as a young man approached the table. He didn’t seem familiar to her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in Cindy’s Shakespeare class. He had dark, curly hair bordering on messy and wore a white apron over his t-shirt and jeans. He set a basket of garlic bread on the table and asked what they would like to drink. Both ordered Sprite, which he took down and hurried away.

  Cindy smiled devilishly. “Do you know that kid?”

  “No, do you? I thought he might be in your Shakespeare class.”

  “No, he’s not. Probably some other lazy kid.”

  “Well, now, that’s not quite fair. He’s working, isn’t he?”

  They bantered back and forth about the waiter’s work ethic until he came back to take their order. They asked for a pepperoni pizza to share, and munched on the garlic bread while they waited.

  “How are the kids? And Tom?” Molly asked between bites, debating about whether her breath would reach toxic levels before this meal was over.

  “Good. Busy-busy, you know. Grace started soccer last weekend, so of course Melody wants to do it too- just because she has to do everything her big sister does, not because she has any genuine interest in soccer. Poor Malcolm is caught in the middle. He wants to do karate, so Tom and I are looking into it. I actually think Melody would be a pretty good dancer if she’d give it a chance, but Grace isn’t into it, so she doesn’t want to do it.”

  “Well, that’s a phase. I mean really, Melody is only five, and Grace is what, eight or nine now?”

  “Nine.”

  “Yeah, so of course Melody thinks she’s super-cool and wants to do everything Grace does. It’s only natural. And Malcolm is the only boy sandwiched between two sisters, so he has to be independent.”

  “I know you’re right, it’s just annoying. It’s not like Melody can play on the same team as Grace or anything. I’m not sure she understands that.”

  Molly nodded. “Well, anything is possible to a five-year-old. Why not let her try it, and see how she likes it? She might hate it, and then you’ll be back to ballet.” She paused to take a drink of Sprite. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. How do you find time for three very different sets of activities with three very different kids, plus have a social life with Tom? I mean really, by the time I get home, walk the dog and read through the backlog of essays I’ve got, plus skim through reading for the next day’s classes, it’s ten o’clock and time for bed!”

  “Well,” she smiled, “I’m amazing and that’s all there is to it.” She paused and raised her eyebrow. “Plus, I haven’t crawled into bed at ten o’clock…ever! What are you, like eighty-five?”

  Molly laughed. Shifting the conversation had been a good move; Cindy was in a much better mood.

  Cindy cleared her throat. “So, where is Gary tonight?”

  “Oh, uh, Philadelphia I think.” Her voice lowered an octave as the joy went out of it.

  “So, I guess he’ll be gone for the weekend?” Cindy was treading on thin ice, and she knew it. But Molly was the kind of person who needed something to look forward to when she was alone, so Cindy pushed forward.

  Molly frowned into her Sprite as she stabbed at the ice with her straw. “Yup.”

  “Maybe you want to come with me and get pedicures?”

  Her face brightened. “That sounds great!”

  Satisfied, Cindy picked up the last of bite her pizza. “Great.”

  They finished dinner on a high note and walked happily back to the campus together.

  When Molly got to her scooter, Cindy shook her head. “When are you going to get a real car?”

  “We have a real car. Gary’s truck does just fine for regular stuff. This is perfect for getting me back and forth to school and for errands downtown. It’s easier to park!” Molly pulled her pink helmet out from under the seat and snapped it on. “Anyway, I don’t have a litter that I need to cart around from point A to point B.”

  She laughed. “Point taken. Just be careful. I wouldn’t want you to get smooshed by some delivery truck trying to navigate these narrow streets.”

  “I’m always careful. Have a great night at home, and tell everyone hi!”

  “You too. How much longer until Gary comes home?”

  “Five days!” Molly always knew exactly how much time was left on that clock.

  Cindy laughed. “Not that you’re counting.”

  Molly started the scooter’s engine. “Oh, I’m totally counting! You would too!”

  “True. Alright, see ya tomorrow!”

  Molly waved as she walked the scooter back out of the spot and drove away.

  It was long past dark when Molly got home. Luckily she’d remembered to leave a hall light on in the house. She hated coming home to a dark house. They lived in a totally safe neighborhood, but she’d seen one too many Lifetime movies. You never knew who could be hiding in the shadows – unless you left the lights on and there weren’t any shadows to hide in.

  Before she even got the door open she could hear Dug panting and whining excitedly on the other side. He whacked the door once or twice with his tail as Molly fumbled with her keys and briefcase. When she finally (well, finally for him; in actuality it was only a few seconds) got the door open, he paused for half a breath to make sure it was in fact his owner at the door, then launched into the nightly excitement ritual. It basically consisted of hopping around in a circle, stopping to jump up on whoever was just arriving home, then running to get a drink of water and repeat.

  Dug was a small longhaired terrier mix whom Molly always thought looked a bit like Benji. They’d rescued him almost four years ago now, and despite Molly’s best efforts to break him of jumping on people when they came in the house, everything always went right out the window when Gary came home. Mostly because Gary was just as excited to see Dug as Dug was to see him.

  Molly set everything on the counter, the excitement ritual following her all the way to the kitchen, and then turned to face Dug. He immediately sat down, barely managing to contain himself. Of course, she petted him and rewarded him for his “restraint.”

  “Where’s Sally?” she asked him. Sometimes, like on the weekends, the animals were the only ones she would talk to all day, so she always spoke to them like they were people.

  Pretty soon Sally walked lazily around the corner and meowed, proclaiming her distaste at Molly’s absence. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

  Molly allowed herself about five minutes of playing with them before she set her mind to the tasks at hand. She needed to finish grading essays, get ready for tomorrow’s classes, and still get into bed at a reasonable hour. It was already nearly seven o’clock.

  When she walked through the living room, she was thrown by an odd splashing sound. It seemed to correspond with Dug’s movements. He was splashing…in the living roo
m. She looked around, trying to find the source of the water. It was just a thin layer, but it was everywhere. Then, she found it. The fish tank was empty, with tiny corpses lying at the bottom.

  Her shoulders fell. Dammit, she thought.

  Dug was totally oblivious to her peril as she sloshed across the living room to the kitchen, searching for a safe place to put her briefcase and papers. Once she’d unloaded on the kitchen table, she turned and stared at the mess.

  Now what? she thought. This crap always happens when I’m alone. She frowned at the dark hardwood floors glistening at her through a thin layer of water, fighting tears. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the mess.

  This is what I came home to, she texted to Gary.

  While she was going for the mop and bucket, he answered her. What happened?

  Fish tank sprung a leak. All the fish are dead. :-(

  Oh no! I’m so sorry I’m not there to help! That stinks honey! There were a lot of fish in there!

  I know. She didn’t know what else to say to him. She was frustrated and upset. She had work to do, and didn’t have time to be cleaning water off the floor, let alone taking care of proper fish disposal.

  It was slow work. Eventually, Dug settled down at the edge of the living room, after Molly repeatedly discouraged him from getting on the couch while he was wet. Sally simply watched from the safety of the stairs.

  It took Molly all evening to get enough water off the floor to start drying it with towels. She just hoped the hardwood wasn’t ruined, not to mention the baseboards and drywall.

  Once she had towels spread all over the floor, Gary texted her again. How’s it going?

  She responded with another picture. It looked like a mess.

  Gary, trying to be encouraging, said, It’s coming along!

  Indeed.

  By the time she turned her attention to the dripping tank, she was exhausted. She unceremoniously gathered the fish with the net into a plastic bowl and flushed them, feeling like she should have said a few words or something. But she was so irritated and tired by then she couldn’t come up with anything except, “thanks for ruining my night.”

  It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time she went upstairs to get showered and ready for bed. Her entire evening was wasted. She didn’t get any of her papers read, and the students were expecting their grades tomorrow. Plus she had a headache from crying, which hadn’t even made her feel better. She rolled her eyes as she climbed into the shower, trying to wash the last four hours of irritation away. Steam filled the bathroom and she sat on the shower floor until the water turned cold.