“Look, Lauren, I don’t want to leave anything behind that criminals could steal and someday use against us,” he explained, his voice measured and smooth. Lauren had an unconscious habit of pushing people’s buttons. He’d learned that a long time ago. He had also come to understand, once he had gotten to know her better, that her comments were not born out of malice. She simply had no filter. If a thought popped into her head, she was more likely to blurt it out than she was to hold back and keep it to herself.
By eleven am, they were back home and busy unpacking. A shelving unit Nate had built in an unfinished section of the basement would serve as storage for the non-perishable goods. One of the few benefits of losing power in the winter—at least this far north—was that the outside could double as a refrigerator. It was for precisely this reason that Nate had gone back to Evan’s garage before leaving and fished out two large coolers. Setting food outside on its own would only invite wildlife still active during the winter months. A cooler could help, but was still not a great idea. As anyone in America with a garbage can could attest, raccoons were experts at popping off lids to get at any food inside. And contrary to popular belief, raccoons didn’t hibernate throughout the entire winter. Rather, they tended to store up body fat in the warmer months and sleep for several weeks once winter arrived. A cooler in the garage would solve that problem just fine.
Lauren and Amy lugged two recyclable grocery bags filled with food into the kitchen. A moment later, Amy shouted back, “Water’s not working.”
No surprise there. The act of treating water to make it drinkable and then pushing it up any kind of elevation required power. Much like the nearby nuclear plant, the water treatment facility also used diesel generators, which had probably kicked into action the moment the power went out. But these were only temporary measures, a stopgap designed to do the job on a short-term basis until the utility company got things back up and running. It was hard not to be shocked by how much of our modern life relied on electricity. Rattle off a list of ten things you did in a day and the chances were great at least nine of those depended on power. But shock or surprise didn’t really capture the extent to which their lives were about to change, regardless of how long this lasted. It was downright scary.
That wasn’t to say the water would remain off indefinitely. It was possible the good folks at the treatment facility were waiting for more fuel for the diesel generators they used. Another possibility was that the town was keeping them off, to conserve fuel until they had a better idea how long this would last. Maybe then they would turn the generators back on for set periods of time. That way they could continue delivering water for as many days as possible. If you were stuck on a deserted island, you didn’t empty your canteen until you found a fresh source of drinkable water. As far as Nate was concerned, the logic was the same here.
But, like the refrigeration issue—a potentially deadly problem in summer—the cold weather could be used to full advantage. Buckets of snow could be melted in pots over the stove and even brought to a boil for at least a minute to ensure it was safe to drink. Of course, the duration of the boil depended on your elevation, a fact not many folks were aware of. The higher you were—cities like Denver, for instance—the longer the water needed to be boiled, which was one of the reasons residents there were advised to boil unsafe water for at least three minutes.
Nate was still in the garage setting up a spot for the coolers when Emmitt appeared at the doorway with food from the kitchen freezer. He handed it over and stayed to watch as Nate stacked it neatly, taking care to keep similar food items together.
“Uh, Uncle Nate,” Emmitt said, his voice quiet and hesitant.
“Yeah?” Nate replied, still sorting.
“Are we gonna die?”
Nate stopped and spun, shocked not only by the words, but by the fear in Emmitt’s voice. “Well, if everyone does their part, I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” He paused for a moment before returning to his work. “Why do you ask? Was it something your mom said?”
“Nah, not her. Hunter said the power’s never coming back on and that we’re probably all gonna die.”
Nate felt his teeth clench together. “Where is your brother?”
“In the living room, sitting on the couch.”
“On the… This is no time to be relaxing. Go get him, would you?”
Emmitt ran off and Nate heard him yelling after his brother. Hunter appeared at the garage door a minute later, rubbing his arms against the cold.
“It’s freezing out here,” Hunter complained.
“Close the door behind you for a minute,” Nate told him. “Don’t let all the warmth out.” He looked at Emmitt, who was standing behind his brother. “Will you give us a minute?”
The door closed, leaving the two of them together.
“Did you tell your brother that we’re going to die?”
A guilty flush filled Hunter’s cheeks. “Uh, I’m not sure. Maybe. I mean, when do you think the power’s coming back on? I have a pretty big tournament scheduled for noon on Saturday and…”
“You’re going to miss that tournament. I’m not sure exactly how to say this, but the power’s out in this part of Illinois and parts of Nebraska. Right now that’s all we know.”
Hunter ran a hand through his hair and cocked his head. “Ugh, yeah, that sucks. Listen, do you have a generator or something? The battery on my iPad is running on fumes.”
Nate’s eyes became glassy.
“Your truck has a USB connection, doesn’t it? Can I plug it in there?”
“I really don’t get it. I see your brother helping load bags in the truck and empty the freezer and you seem more worried about videogame t-shirts, tournaments and charging your iPad.”
Hunter’s eyes fell.
Nate heard a ghostly echo of his wife’s voice telling him to go easy. He let out a long sigh, before he spoke: “Here’s what I would like you to do. Go ask your aunt Amy if there’s anything she needs help with. I know the canned stuff needs to be brought into the basement and put on shelves. And when you’re done with that, there’s a long list of other things I need help with.” He curled the fingers of his left hand around Hunter’s thin arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What I’m trying to say is, the time for games is done. I need you to put your big-boy pants on. It’s time to step up.”
His nephew glanced up at him and nodded slowly. The kid opened the door and went back inside. Hunter wasn’t a bad kid, not by any stretch. He’d just been allowed to get away with bloody murder for far too long. The Jesuit Ignatius Loyola used to say, “Give me the child for the first seven years and I will give you the man.” Hunter was already ten, but Nate hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage the good that still remained.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said by the open garage door.
Startled, Nate turned on his heels, the palm of his hand pressing against the cold grip of his pistol.
A wall of snow more than two feet high marked the demarcation line between the garage’s interior and the outside world. The figure was dressed in a heavy winter jacket and fur-lined boots. It was Liz Corder, his next-door neighbor. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”
Nate straightened and went over to her. She was a rather petite woman, somewhere in her early seventies. She used to be an elementary school teacher. Her husband Carl had recently sold his insurance business. Now both of them were retired and enjoying every minute of it. “Bothering me? No, not at all,” Nate said. “Just keeping busy.” He looked around, grinning with incredulity. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
Liz nodded and let out a soft little laugh. She seemed unsure whether he had been referring to the snowstorm or the loss of power or both. “I’ll tell you, it’s really something else. Carl tried to get a hold of our son in Chicago and hasn’t had much luck. I wonder if the blackout’s gone state-wide?”