Twelve hours wasn’t much time when they didn’t have an immediate plan. “That does it, then. Stitch it.”

  “Are you sure?” she pressed.

  He stared up at her. “You said you were a vet, right? You know what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “I do. I’m guessing you might need eight to ten stitches. I have a numbing agent that will help,” she said, holding up a bottle.

  “Do whatever. I need to get home. My daughter, she’ll be there alone, wondering what happened to me.”

  Amanda gently sat down on the couch beside him, clearly trying not to shift the cushion below his injured leg as he maneuvered the blanket away from his side.

  “What did happen to you?” she asked, dumping a clear liquid on a gauze pad before she pressed it against the injury that he’d barely even realized was there. He blamed the frigid temperatures for numbing his body, which was a small blessing. He imagined he’d be very stiff and sore tomorrow, not to mention covered in bruises.

  “I fell off a bridge,” he lied.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You should learn to be more careful.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She smiled tightly and held the gauze to his side as she pulled a candle positioned on the table behind the couch closer. “Ready?” she asked. He nodded and expected real pain when she put a needle to his skin, but there was only a pinch before he felt tugging and some stinging as she continued. Maybe along with the cold, the numbing agent had truly helped dull the sharp pain he knew he should be feeling. If anything, the stitching hurt just less than getting a tattoo. As he watched her tediously pull the black thread through his skin, he remembered the pain he’d felt in his side when the bullets had started to fly. That was it. He’d been grazed by a bullet and hadn’t even realized it in the moment. He wasn’t about to tell this woman he’d been shot at, though.

  Finished with his side, she pronounced his break a simple one and used a horse splint to brace his broken leg before using some hot pink vet wrap to keep it in place. The support of the brace provided almost immediate relief. He could already feel the muscles in his leg relaxing a bit.

  “Sorry about the pink—it’s all I had on hand,” she said with a grin. “We’ll do a real cast tomorrow if we can’t figure out how to get you to the hospital. I took care of a dog’s broken leg just last week,” she said, as if to make him feel better. “So if you can handle the color, we’ll be okay.”

  He shrugged, thinking he was at least beyond lucky that he’d landed in a vet’s hands rather than the average farmer’s. “My masculinity can handle a pink cast if it comes to it.”

  “Good. Now, I have a camp stove. I’m going to fire it up and make us some hot soup,” she said, taking off the latex gloves she’d been wearing. “I’ll light some more candles, as well.”

  “I really need to get home,” he reminded her tiredly.

  “Austin, I understand you need to get back to your daughter, but I honestly don’t know how to get you there. Not tonight. Tomorrow, I can get to a neighbor and see about help—the closest farm’s a few miles down the road.”

  He took a deep breath. “That’s right. No phones or power.”

  “Even my plane died,” she muttered under her breath.

  For a moment, he thought he’d imagined her words, but then she nodded when he repeated, “Your plane died?” and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “Yeah, one second I’m up in the sky, doing my thing, and the next, my gauges fell flat.”

  “You were in the air?” he asked, searching for obvious signs that she’d survived a plane crash and finding none.

  “I was for about two minutes before I slammed into the barn and basically fell to the ground,” she said on a small laugh.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yep. Little cut on my hand. Can’t say the same for my barn, though.”

  He leaned his head back against the couch as she walked away, trying to put all the pieces together. In his head, he was creating a timeline like he would have if he’d been writing a story. The timeline and the facts that he knew for sure. His brain kept coming back to one thing. It couldn’t be that, however. That was… not possible. He wouldn’t let himself suspect it.

  “Here,” she said, coming back into the living room. “Take these.”

  “What are they?” he asked, taking the small white pills from her palm.

  “They’re antibiotics. With that gash on your side and the crap that was in that stream, you need to get started on antibiotics right away.”

  He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them down with the bottle of water she handed him. “You said you’re a vet. These were meant for animals?”

  She grinned. “People, dogs, horses, all the same.”

  He’d have to take her word for it. “Tell me something. Do you have a computer?”

  “I live in the country, not the dark ages.”

  “Does it turn on?” he asked, ignoring her joke.

  “I’ll check.”

  With that, she disappeared for a few seconds, and then came back with a newish-looking laptop in her hand.

  “Does it turn on?” he asked when she seemed to be struggling with it.

  Amanda looked up at him, meeting his eyes now. “No. How did you know?”

  He ran a hand down his face, feeling the scruff on his jaw. “It’s just a suspicion. Your phone, is it completely dead?”

  She nodded. “Black screen.”

  He bit back a curse. “Radio? Do you have a radio?” he asked, looking around her living room.

  She disappeared and returned with an old-school, battery-powered radio. “It’s dead. I thought the batteries were good, but maybe not.”

  “Great,” he mumbled, his mind whirring as he put together the pieces of the puzzle in front of him. His brain was a little jumbled after being slammed into a rock and then frozen, and he wanted to think he was wrong anyway.

  “What is your suspicion?” she asked, settling into the nearby armchair.

  He felt a little ridiculous saying it, but maybe he needed to say it aloud and then process it. “I don’t know. I’m trying to put all the pieces together. This seems a little too science fiction to believe.”

  “What’s too sci-fi?”

  He looked away from her. “I don’t know. Like… it’s like something knocked out the power grid.”

  She stared at him. “A downed power grid wouldn’t kill the electronics in my house or my truck,” she whispered.

  He looked her in the eye then, finally ready to sound like a nutjob. “Have you ever heard of something called an EMP? That’s what I’m starting to wonder about.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “EMP. An electromagnetic pulse?”

  “You know about them?”

  She nodded as she leaned back, still staring at him. “I do. I was in the Air Force for a few years, in the cybersecurity department. I know a lot about them.”

  “What do you think? Is it a possibility?” he asked, wanting to know he wasn’t crazy. Or, really, maybe hoping he was.

  She looked thoughtful. “You know, I think it is. Wow. How crazy is that?” she asked softly.

  “If it was an EMP, this whole area’s going to be in a blackout,” he said, fear for his daughter mounting.

  She covered her mouth with one of her small hands. “Oh my God. I didn’t think it would actually happen. Maybe it wasn’t that. It could be—”

  She stopped talking. He waited, hoping she’d offer a better suggestion. Austin was only vaguely familiar with what an EMP was, and remembered it being explained as frying the computers and electrical components in just about everything in the vicinity of such a pulse. He’d been treated to that explanation and a lot of hypotheses about how far-reaching damage might be by the preppers he’d met about six months before. They’d gone to great lengths to prepare for an EMP, and had not only stockpiled food and water, but put radios and other electrical equipment in Faraday cages. He hadn’t thought they were crazy, but he had thought they were preparing for a one-in-a-million disaster and would have been better off putting their money elsewhere.

  Now, it seemed they’d been the smart ones.

  “I have a feeling you aren’t the only one who didn’t think it would happen,” he muttered. “I have to get out of here. I’ve got to get to my daughter. Forget the hospital—if this is an EMP, there’s no point. I can’t leave Savannah alone. I have to go,” he said, sitting up again and reaching for a crutch.

  “Austin, you can’t, not right now.” Amanda leaned forward, putting her hand on his arm to freeze him. “How old is your daughter?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Okay, so she’s not a little kid. She’ll go home and wait for you. We’ll find a way in the morning. It’s going to be pitch black out there,” she said in that familiar, calm voice.

  He looked out the living room windows. Night had fallen, and without the benefit of headlights or a flashlight, navigating the dark terrain would be dangerous. He couldn’t risk another injury.

  A lump formed in his throat. “You’re right.”

  “Good, settle back down and I’ll get us some soup. You need to rest. I’ll check on my horses and then I’ll keep an eye on you throughout the night. You might have a mild concussion.”

  “Thank you.”

  She shrugged, her expression serious. “I think we’re in this together now. So, soup, then I’ll take care of my horses and you’ll rest. I need to make sure that fire’s out, too, but it was supposed to rain tonight and it seemed to be dying earlier, so that shouldn’t take long.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could help,” he said, feeling a little useless.

  “Rest, Austin. That’s what you need,” she said, sounding confident everything would by okay. “And if you’re sure you want to find your daughter and forego a hospital—though, honestly, I’m not sure how we’d get you there or what they could do that I couldn’t, if our guess is right—then I’ll put a cast on that leg of yours first thing in the morning.”

  “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “That might be best.”

  He watched her force a smile before she left the room.

  He nodded to himself, trying to accept the way things had changed in just a few hours, and the state he was in on this couch. “Okay then. I’ll be right here,” he said belatedly.

  5

  Savannah sat at one of the picnic tables, watching the Loveridge family as they hugged one another, cried, and did their best to come to terms with the death of the family patriarch. One of the members of their revival group had covered Eli with a white sheet, but he was still lying in the same spot.

  Everyone had held hands around the body while Jim Loveridge had said a prayer. Savannah had held Malachi’s hand, but the close contact had been nothing like earlier. After the prayers and a song, everyone had drifted away from the body and the Loveridge family, and Savannah had found herself retreating to sit nearby and observe; she didn’t want to drag Malachi away from his family sooner than she had to, and she knew he wouldn’t let her walk home alone. Some of the people who’d traveled a long way to come to the revival were still hanging around, and she knew exactly how they felt. She also felt kind of stuck. Her home on wheels was probably only a couple of miles away, but it was dark and quiet, and the night had unnerved her. She’d told herself that Malachi wouldn’t let her walk home alone, and she thought that was the case… but she also didn’t want him to.

  Her eyes scanned the area again. She felt like an outsider, an interloper. She needed to leave and let them be alone. The other people left were lingering on the other side of the clearing, huddled in small groups and talking in harsh whispers, gesturing wildly. Savannah didn’t know them at all. She wasn’t a Loveridge, but she wasn’t one of them, either, panicking over cars or cellphones.

  After Eli’s death, it had become clear that none of the vehicles would work. A few families had gathered purses and other belongings from their vehicles and set out walking. They were long gone now, and Savannah was left thinking about her dad and wondering where he was. Was he back at the trailer, or had he been stranded somewhere, as well? Would he come looking for her? He would if he could, she knew, and a new pang of regret shot through her over the fact that she’d lied to him about where she’d really planned on coming that night. He wouldn’t know where to look for her if he tried.

  Feeling invisible, she eavesdropped on the many conversations happening around her. One of the people who’d been at the revival mentioned something about a government shutdown. Someone else claimed it was an enemy attack and World War Three had just been started. Savannah didn’t know about all that, but something big and something very terrible had happened for everything to have shut down like this.

  Her gaze moved back to the Loveridge family silhouetted in the glow of candles and lanterns that had been gathered. If the situation hadn’t been so awful, it would have been beautiful out here in the country with no light pollution. She was glad this family had each other, at least. When her mom had died, it had just been her and her father in the hospital room. She would never forget how it had felt to leave the hospital without her mother. Now, it was only her and her dad—no one else. Malachi still had a full family to care for him, regardless of the tragedy they’d just suffered.

  Just then, he looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back, giving him a small wave. He said something to his mom before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and making his way towards the table where Savannah sat. He perched on the bench beside her, his eyes on the ground in front of him and his hands resting in his lap. She could feel the grief rolling off of him and almost moved away to give him more space. Her own grief over her mother was still raw; feeling his made it hard to keep her own in check. As the night had gotten calmer, her own emotions had been bubbling over with memories.

  “Sorry to have left you alone,” he told her.

  “No, don’t be sorry. I’m fine. Your family needs you.”

  “My mom is pretty upset,” he said quietly. “He was so healthy, so happy.”

  “I’m so sorry about your grandpa, Malachi. Really.”

  “Thanks. It’s terrible, and I’m… I’m really going to miss him,” he said, choking on a sob before regaining his composure. “He was a friend.”

  She gave him another minute, and then made her decision. “I should get going. Your family needs time alone.”

  His face shot up, and he focused on her for the first time since coming to the table. “It’s dark, Savannah—you can’t walk home alone,” he replied, his voice strained.

  “I’ll be okay. Stay here. Help your mom. Did anyone get ahold of emergency services?” she asked.

  “No. I have no idea what’s happened, but no phones work. None of the cars will start, and Dad can’t get any of the generators to run again. I think that’s what killed my grandpa.”

  She stared at him, trying to catch up with the change in topic. “What killed him?” she asked.

  “He had a pacemaker. It’s like everything electrical just stopped working, including his pacemaker. He was so healthy, that has to be it.”

  “Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry, Malachi. That’s just awful,” she said, putting her hand over his.

  “Did you hear that one guy talking? He thinks the power grids were all shut down,” Malachi added, looking at her.

  “I did hear him say that,” she replied, not wanting to add any more stress. She’d been hoping the people talking about war were overreacting and that everything would be back to normal in a few hours. By the time she got back to the RV, even.

  “I’ll ask my mom if it’s okay for me to walk you back,” Malachi said as he rose from the bench, and though Savannah felt like she should protest again, she didn’t.

  He returned a minute later with permission to walk her home, and they slowly headed out of the revival area and back towards town. The moonlight and brilliant stars on the clear night were so pretty, and she felt freer now, leaving the campground behind and listening to the crickets beginning their night songs. With Malachi beside her, his hand occasionally brushing hers, she could almost forget how horribly things had gone wrong. If this was the beginning of a war, she knew she would never forget the exact moment it had happened and who she’d been with. Malachi had more than earned a strong place in her life story. She only hoped it was a long life story, and that it wouldn’t be cut short by whatever it was that was happening.

  They’d been walking in silence, both lost to their own thoughts, when a gun shot rang out. Malachi and Savannah froze, looking at one another. “What was that?” she whispered.

  “Maybe someone is hunting in the forest,” Malachi offered doubtfully.

  “At night?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Stay close.”

  Malachi took her hand now, and they walked a little farther, neither of them talking as they moved. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to see through the trees lining the right side of the road. Everything looked shadowy—even in the field on the opposite side of the road from the trees. It was eerie, and she couldn’t wait to get home, but she tried to tell herself that the creepiness of the night was all in her head.

  Talking would help break up the extreme quiet, but unfortunately, Savannah had no idea what to say to the boy next to her. She knew he was hurting, but this wasn’t something that a hug would help with. Her own personal experience told her clearly that no amount of hugs would make the pain go away. This was something he would have to deal with on his own, working through all the painful emotions that were sure to plague him over the next several days and coming weeks.

  They were on the very outskirts of the town, which was itself totally dark, when her thoughts were broken into again.

  “Watch out!” Malachi shouted suddenly, grabbing her arm and yanking her to the left as a man on a bike turned the corner of a building and nearly ran them over as he raced past.

 

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