But when I tried to move, my arms and legs wouldn’t respond. They felt locked in place, paralyzed, the way they do in nightmares.
“Aiden, man. Get up.”
The figure in front of me wasn’t there. My eyes weren’t even open. I woke to find myself on the couch, Jimmy pressing on me, shaking me.
“Dude, you were out cold,” he said. “You wouldn’t wake up.”
“What time is it?”
“Shit, man. I don’t know what time it is. Afternoon. We’re gonna put your plan into motion.”
My head felt bulky, like it had increased in size. My ears screeched. I was starting to worry that sound would never go away.
“How long have I been asleep? What have you guys been doing?” Jimmy moved to the ottoman and smiled.
“Glad you asked. I made a list of dudes, just like you said. These guys either work for me or owe me money or both. I picked them based on where they live and the chance we can find them. It’s not like I could get them out of my phone, so Bart and I went through old mail and did our best.”
“That’s great,” I said, not feeling great about Jimmy’s list or anything. My brain was like a lead weight sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The plan to siege a grocery warehouse seemed, after my nap, like a hopeless waste of time and resources. The EMP hadn’t happened by accident: God clearly wanted the world to end. Who were we to fight against His wishes?
“So this is your list,” said Jimmy.
He handed me a sheet of paper, which contained several names, addresses, and a crudely-drawn map.
“Bart and I each have five guys to find. You have four. I assume we won’t get them all, but hopefully we’ll end up with something close to ten.”
“This is going to take a while.”
“A day or two at least,” Jimmy said. “But it’s not like we’ve got much else to do.”
“You mean besides get high?”
“Yeah, well. That’s only fun for so long. Eventually we have to figure out how to move on from all this.”
I could have asked him why anyone would want to move on, but Jimmy’s not that kind of guy. He sees the world in simple terms and debating the relative merits of survival wouldn’t compute. The EMP presented a challenge to be solved. Until then, little else would matter.
“Anyway,” he said. “I’m also giving you this.”
Jimmy handed me a pistol. It was a SIG Sauer, similar to my own.
“I figure each of us should try to find one guy this evening. We already heard some gunshots like an hour ago, and I bet it’ll get worse after dark.”
“Gunshots?”
“And there’s another fire going on a little west of here. Couple of miles away. I think people are looting.”
“If that’s the case,” I said, “maybe we’re too late.”
“No way to know. But the longer we wait, the less chance we have. I also heard a few running cars. I don’t know if they’re police or military or what. Bart tells me older cars may still work if they have a mechanical ignition.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Me neither. But if he’s right, and we see someone with a car, we could motivate them to donate it to our cause.”
“If we had a car,” I said, “we could round these guys up in a few hours instead of a few days.”
“Exactly,” Jimmy said, smiling.
“So are we going now?”
“Yep. Just get yourself something to eat, drink, whatever. I see you already found the lemonade.”
He pointed at my glass on the coffee table. It was half empty.
“Chelsea whipped up some mashed potatoes if you want a homemade dish. Speaking of, the girls are going to stay behind. Too risky for them to be out.”
“Where’s Keri?”
“In the kitchen. Bart is taking a shower. The water is still hot, but we’re losing pressure. You might want to rinse off before you leave. Then the girls will fill the tubs and all my bowls and buckets so we don’t run out of water.”
A lot had happened while I was asleep. I didn’t see how anyone had the energy for it. But unless I wanted to take the SIG and shoot myself in the head (an idea more alluring than you might think) there was little choice but follow the plan.
“Okay. I’ll wash up first.”
“You can use the shower in the west bedroom. Back that way.”
Jimmy was right. The pressure was so low I could barely rinse shampoo out of my hair. But the water was hot, and I stood beneath it for what seemed like forever, wondering if it would be the last hot shower I would ever enjoy. To this day I haven’t had another one.
For my trip to Dallas I brought three T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, five golf shirts, and five pairs of golf shorts. Unfortunately, I’d already worn all these clothes at least once, so I grabbed a T-shirt that smelled the least offensive and my other pair of jeans. I hadn’t noticed till after the shower, but the clothes I’d been wearing since Thursday evening reeked of cigarettes and booze and B.O.
After I brushed my teeth and applied deodorant, I felt almost normal… except for the low-but-constant screeching sound that seemed to originate deep in the bowels of my brain.
“Well, hello, handsome,” Keri said when I walked into the kitchen. “You clean up good.”
Judging by the light, it was maybe five o’clock in the afternoon. Bart and Chelsea were at the kitchen table. Jimmy stood in front of the stove, drinking what appeared to be a cocktail.
I found a paper plate and carved myself a heavy spoonful of mashed potatoes. There was also a box of crackers and a plastic jug of beef jerky. I helped myself to a few pieces and sat down to eat. I was ravenous.
“Any questions about your assignment?” asked Bart.
“What should I know beyond the names and addresses?”
“The first guy on your list is less than three miles away. Mitch Brown. If he decides to come there’s one other guy you might try. He’s two more miles to the south. That’ll leave you a longish walk back here.”
Keri sat down beside me.
“I still don’t know if this is a good idea,” she said, and leaned into me. “But I don’t see what the alternative is.”
“The alternative is we eat all of Jimmy’s food and then starve to death.”
“Geez,” said Chelsea. “Downer alert.”
I wasn’t surprised by the untroubled mood in the kitchen. No one here was accustomed to the routine of an 8–5 work day, the rhythm of family life, or even obeying the law. Bart and Jimmy understood the gravity of the crisis, but they also believed our plan was achievable, and didn’t appear worried. Chelsea and Keri seemed oblivious to the risks we faced, or the consequences for failing to succeed. Probably they were both high on opiates.
When I finished eating, I folded the list and dropped it into my pocket. I shoved the gun into the back of my jeans and smiled like all this was perfectly normal. I didn’t imagine my mind as a spool of fishing line that was slowly being unraveled and pulled into the dark ocean.
“Ready to head out?” I said.
“I’m going to check on Amy before I leave,” Jimmy answered.
“Gonna finish this dinner,” said Bart.
Several bottles of Smart Water stood on the kitchen island. As I grabbed one, Keri walked over and hugged me.
“Please be careful. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”
I looked down at her blonde hair and perfect cleavage and felt split nearly in half by competing emotions. One part of me could imagine playing this silly game, returning to Jimmy’s house with both my charges in tow, celebrating with scotch and sex.
The other half of me was sickened by all this nonsense, especially how Keri had contorted our two days of drug-induced debauchery into a faux relationship. Her behavior reminded me of the time I watched, in a single weekend, an entire season of The Bachelor. I could never understand why twenty-five women would refer to the preselected guy as “their boyfriend” and “the man I’m going to marry” when they had spent a grand total of six hours with him. The desire to formalize such a fleeting connection seemed absurd and desperate and I was thrilled to be getting away from Keri and everyone in the house for a while.