“Hard to say,” Nate admitted, and it was true. He knew the Byron plant had been targeted by a cyber-attack, but what role the weather had to play and more importantly the extent of the damage was still impossible to say for sure.
“Yeah, well, I was really coming to see if you had an extra candle or two.”
Nate nodded. “Yes, of course.” He ducked inside the house and returned a moment later. “I’m gonna have to dig a few out. Can I bring them over?”
“That would be great.” She smiled, her eyes beaming back at him.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s it.”
She turned and was about to leave when Nate stopped her. “Liz, I remember a while back Carl mentioned he used to operate a ham radio. Any chance he still has it?”
“Oh, goodness, that old thing? I suppose he might. You know Carl, always jumping from one hobby to the next. I’m sure he’s got it tucked away in the basement somewhere.”
“Will you ask him for me?” Nate asked.
She told him she would and pulled the sides of her hood in as she headed back down the driveway. Watching his neighbor make her way through the shockingly deep snow, Nate couldn’t shake the terrible feeling Liz and Carl were not going to live to see the spring. He shooed the dark thought away, convinced he’d allowed a touch of Hunter’s pessimism to briefly infect him.
Chapter 11
Nate and the boys were in the basement setting up mouse traps on the food shelves when the landline began to ring. Nate leapt up to the main floor, taking the risers two at a time. The phone on the wall was already on its fourth ring when he finally answered.
“Evan, is that you?”
His brother sounded weary and short of breath. “Yeah, listen, I don’t have long. I tried texting and calling you again, but right now cell phones are pretty much useless.”
Nate concurred. “That’s what happens when everyone tries to call at the same time.” He remembered the same thing happening after 9/11. It had taken hours for the cell traffic to slacken. “How’s the core?”
“Excelsior Energy brought in a bunch of backup generators to replace the ones we lost in the cyber-attack.”
“I know,” Nate said, speaking rapidly. “I swung by the plant earlier and…”
“Joe told me,” Evan cut in. A muffled voice called out from somewhere in the distance. Evan put his hand over the receiver. “I’ll be right there. There’s no time to chat right now, Nate. But so far, the network of gennies have been working to keep the core cooled. As long as they’re topped up with fuel, we should be good.”
“You should know,” Nate said, “your wife and kids are here with us. Once things are back under control, don’t bother heading home. Lauren brought everything here you’re going to need.”
“Okay, listen, I got to go.”
“One last thing,” Nate said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Should we be getting ready to evacuate?”
Evan let out a long breath. “Byron isn’t the only place hit. From what I hear, the government’s struggling to respond, but most of the normal avenues to warn the people of Illinois have been disabled by the power outage.”
He was speaking about the Emergency Alert System (EAS), a warning folks sometimes saw on their TVs and cell phones, most commonly used to notify of serious weather events or other national emergencies. At such times, a buzzing sound would be followed by safety instructions.
“Stay by the phone. If there’s a problem, I’ll call you.”
“It might just be rumors,” Nate told his brother. “But there’s a chance the outage might stretch as far as Nebraska.”
Evan was silent.
A frantic Lauren stood next to him, doing everything in her power not to rip the phone from Nate’s ear.
“Your wife wants to have a word.” He handed the phone over. Lauren took it with both hands while the two of them spoke.
Amy’s eyes were welling with tears. She wasn’t one to cry, which made it all the more unsettling. He held her in his arms. “Evan said everything’s under control.”
“Maybe, but after lunch, Lauren and I will prep go-bags for her and the kids.”
“Smart,” Nate conceded. “I’ll think of an evacuation plan should we need one.” That last part was more bluster than fact, since he already knew firsthand the inherent risks involved in driving unplowed roads.
“I’ll make one for Evan too,” she said, her voice more even now. “Just in case.” She then opened the fridge and removed a package of hotdogs and buns.
Nate headed for the back deck to clear the snow around the barbecue. He had the propane tank connected along with a spare. If they played their cards right, the gas they had could last for at least a month, maybe more.
When he was done, he ducked his head back inside. “Babe, hand me two long candles from the dining room drawer.”
She did so. “What’s this for?” she asked.
“Call it my good deed of the day,” he replied and kissed her.
The storm seemed to grow in intensity as Nate fought his way down the driveway and along the street. In the distance, he could make out the low drone of personal generators a few of his neighbors were using to keep the lights on as long as possible.
He pressed on, one labored footfall at a time. There was no denying this was one hell of a workout. Years ago, he and Amy had trekked through the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado. This was long before the pregnancy, during the tour they’d taken around the country. To put a finer point on it, it was exactly a year after the injury that had taken out his knee and any dreams of Olympic gold. The dunes hadn’t been forgiving. Not on his throbbing knee, nor on his wounded ego.
But snow, when it got this deep, was a different beast altogether. He would take the searing-hot sand any day.
When Nate arrived at Carl’s door, the old man was there waiting for him.
“Hard to believe somewhere else in the world it’s warm and sunny.” Carl laughed, phlegm rattling around his lungs like a nickel in a tin can.
Nate returned the gesture. “Can’t deny I was thinking the same thing.”
“Come in, if you have a minute to spare. The wife’s making some coffee over the fireplace. I hope you don’t mind the instant stuff. The espresso machine’s down at the moment.”
“Yeah, along with most of the state by the looks of things.”
Nate stepped in, closed the door against the cold wind trying to get in and then removed his winter clothing. He set his jacket on a hook by the front door and removed the candles he’d brought. “I hope these will do for now. I’ve got a big stash lying around somewhere. Costco was having a sale last year. Once I get a minute, I’ll dig them out and bring you some more.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Liz said, handing him a warm mug. The house was toasty.
Nate took a sip, relishing the tingle it left as it went down. “Hmm, what’s in this?”
“Oh, just some twelve-year-old whiskey I had lying around,” Carl said, motioning to a seat by the fireplace. They had an insert just like Nate. In fact, Carl had been so impressed after seeing Nate’s in action he’d gone and ordered one for himself. His neighbor had a wide, friendly face with eyes that sparkled whenever he laughed at an off-color or somewhat dirty joke. His hair was white and curly and concentrated mainly along the sides and back of his head. They were a sweet older couple who had been close friends with his folks, John and Lydia Bauer. After his parents had relocated to Arizona, Carl and Liz had taken over the role of surrogate parents, which made the fireside chat seem normal, maybe even welcomed.