Harmonic: Resonance (14 page)

The registration location listings ended, and the female news anchor returned to the screen. “
If you know, or come into contact with, any N.L.D., please direct them to the nearest facility. Some parts of the country have now issued legislation that makes registration mandatory and enforceable by law, slating stern consequences for those brought in after the one-month ‘grace period.’ We have not been told what those lawful consequences will be, but the consequences of those unfamiliar with our technology being allowed to roam freely, once the power is restored, could be deadly. For more on this, we go now to Peter Sherman
.”

The screen changed to show the reporter in the foreground of what appeared to be something between a demonstration and the beginnings of a riot. “
Curiosity killed the cat, and for some of the N.L.D., there is a lot to be curious about. Without knowledge of basic safety protocols, that curiosity could prove fatal. Some have likened the N.L.D. to summer flies beckoned by the light of a bug-zapper. While the power is limited, and the world is in recovery, the N.L.D. have only been exposed to a small fraction of the world’s potential danger. As crews work to restore and rebuild, it’s only a matter of time until the roads are once again filled with speeding vehicles and our homes are powered with hundreds of appliances, tools, devices, and machines that could pose a lethal threat to an unsuspecting N.L.D. Some have said that to let the N.L.D. remain at large and unchaperoned would be as grievous and irresponsible as letting a toddler wander the streets unsupervised.
”

Randall shook his head but kept his eyes on the screen, as the reporter continued.

“
Aside from the environmental hazards, there is a growing threat of violence and hostility toward the government and the N.L.D. themselves over the rationing of goods and services. Many have deemed the process unfair and have been outspoken in the opinion that the living should have priority for government assistance and rehousing. This sentiment is echoed by those behind me and many others across the country, protesting along the long lines of N.L.D. waiting to register. I have one of the protesters with me, who has asked to remain anonymous
.”

The camera panned back to reveal a man standing next to the reporter. His T-shirt had been used to cover his face with only his eyes visible through the hole meant for the neck. With the sleeves tied behind his head, he looked like some kind of militant rebel. The reporter asked him to explain the purpose of the demonstration and held out the microphone for his muffled reply.

“
The dead had their chance, now they want what’s ours. There’s not enough food to feed all the new mouths. Why should my kids starve to feed Heaven’s rejects? If God doesn’t want them, why should we?
”

There was a second or two of black before the screen changed to the studio and the female news anchor.

“
We seem to have lost you there, Peter. Sorry, we appear to be having a few technical difficulties. We’ll bring you more on that story later. In other news, we’ve had reports that the war in the Middle East has resumed. Military spokesman, Andrew Lloyd, has described it as an opportunistic attempt by insurgents to take full advantage of the now level playing field. Allied communications are still limited, and due to both the monetary cost and the potential for loss of life in the event of another power surge, all aircraft remain grounded
.”

The news anchor continued, offering staggering estimates of the number of military and commercial aircraft that had lost power in flight during the first power surge. Most of those aircraft had crashed, killing all onboard and killing or injuring thousands on the ground, as those aircraft carved their own blazing runways through city blocks and residential neighborhoods.

I realized there had been no mention so far about world leaders—presidents, prime ministers, politicians. I brought it up to Randall.

“What do you suppose happened to them?” I asked.

“They’re probably all in a bunker somewhere. When trouble comes around, politicians run like rats.” There was more than a hint of disdain in Randall’s tone that made me wonder if we were all slowly succumbing to the effects of Gary’s poison.

“If they’re all in a bunker, who’s running the country?” I asked.

“By the looks of it, they declared martial law before absconding to safety.”

“So the Army’s in charge?” I asked.

“Under the commander-in-chief’s control, if he’s alive,” Randall said.

“So what does that mean for us?” I asked.

“It means that everyone’s rights and freedoms will be suspended until the
emergency
is over. The military has the power to search and seize, and to imprison whomever they see as a threat to national security. It means that they’ll begin civil disturbance operations—rounding up dissidents and subversives to get the masses back under control.”

“Dissidents and subversives?”

“All peoples deemed to be in opposition of civil authority or government. The politically or socially dispossessed will be detained in one of the internment or resettlement camps for re-education.”

“You’re sounding like Gary,” I said.

Randall breathed a sigh and rubbed at his unshaven jaw. “I’m opposed to Gary hiding inside a bottle, but I agree with some of what he’s said. I’m not trying to scare you, but in my experience, the Army’s way of protecting people from themselves has always been to disarm and detain. Those soldiers will have been given the same orders that were given to us when we were sent to stabilize a region. Protect and provide security to the locals, with or without consent.
Resistance will not be tolerated—
any civilian who refuses to do what they’re told will be treated as a combatant. Compliance is mandatory, and there
will
be collateral damage.”

My throat began to tighten, and suddenly the smell of cooking food turned my stomach. Randall opened his mouth to speak but closed it again and lowered his gaze to the floor. I glanced back to the television, as they showed the lines of people waiting to be processed into one of the camps and the armed soldiers who patrolled the lines and fences.

“
After nearly two-hundred N.L.D. have turned up in the last week claiming to be Elvis, the soldiers have nicknamed this registration facility Graceland …
”

The reporter’s voice was replaced by a swelling hum. The screen flickered and then the light grew bright before the television, and everything else, went dead.

28 | The four horsemen ...

The latest power surge had not only tripped the main breaker but had shut down the generator indefinitely, or until we could figure out the source of the problem and source the necessary parts or tools to fix it. For everyone else in the house, there seemed to be no silver lining to the prospect of another wave, but for me there was a glimmer of hope—the door would open once again, allowing my father a chance to come back to me.

“I need a drink,” Gary said.

“A drink is the last thing you need. If this is the sign of another wave of this madness, then we’re going to need you sober,” Randall said.

“Maybe you should all drink with me,” Gary said and sneered at the black coffee in front of him.

“Might just be a power surge. They’ve been trying to get the power on for a while now,” Powell said.

“We’re not even connected to the grid right now. My dad set it up to use one or the other. We’re unplugged,” I replied.

Gary rubbed at his temple. “If this is a cyclic thing—wave after wave, then the world’s going to fill up pretty damn quick. There’s not enough food for everyone now; another wave and it’ll be war for sure, or mass genocide.”

“The world has gone mad and God has been forgotten,” Randall said.

“I don’t see your god offering mankind any help,” Gary said.

Randall fixed a cold stare on Gary. “You’re right. It looks to be the opposite.”

We all stopped and stared at Randall.

“Famine, pestilence, war ...” he started.

“Death,” Gary interjected.

“From the footage they’ve shown on the news, the registration camps are full of healthy N.L.D., while the resettlement camps are filled with the half-starved, sick, and dying remnants of our towns and cities. Famine and pestilence are already upon us, and war is not far from our doorstep,” Randall said

“So you think that the N.L.D. are some kind of sign of a coming apocalypse?” Powell asked with a frown.

“I think
they
may be God’s chosen replacements for
us
,” Randall replied.

***

Our news of the camps, the eventual destination of all those who had left over a week ago, had come in sporadic broadcasts over the alarm clock radio. Even after finding and fixing the problem with the generator, it was decided to leave it disconnected to avoid any further damage in the event of another power surge.

The surges had been detectable on the digital face of the alarm clock, which, although unplugged and running on backup batteries, had still been susceptible to the fluctuations of power. The last surge had reduced the news broadcast to a distorted static whistle right before the alarm clock’s display had shone a bright red, and died, leaving only the after-image
7:06
superimposed on my vision, long outliving its accuracy. Afterward, all batteries and fuses, including those from the vehicles, were removed and stored in a makeshift Faraday cage made from a steel garbage can, its interior cleaned and lined with cardboard.

Food was prepared on the barbecue or on the smaller propane grill, and we kept a log fire going for warmth and light, in spite of Gary’s protest.

Gary grew more agitated with each passing day, snapping at anyone and everyone who crossed his path, but his words were hollow. He spent most of his time outside watching the road or hiding in the barn. His courage and vigor had drained away with the contents of every bottle found and poured out. Powell described it as non-consensual detox. Randall described it as a war of attrition, an attempt to starve the demon into releasing the man, but the definition was the same. Gary would soon join our sober reality with or without any further intervention. His supply was all but depleted, and without support groups and treatment centers, he would be quitting the hard way—from Wild Turkey to cold turkey.

Sean and Sarah had still not returned, and we were all becoming restless, worrying over endless scenarios to explain or defend their prolonged absence. After the departure of her parents, Haley had taken to sleeping in my bed with me, instead of in the makeshift bed that had been made up for her. She cried in her sleep and woke up frequently during the night. Her cries were not like that of a child, but more the dull whimper of an injured animal. In the dark, or with her eyes closed, my words were of no comfort. All I could do was stroke her hair and hold her tight until she gave in to sleep, while I was left guessing the subject of her night terrors and at the same time trying to delay my own.

29 | Following the exodus

It had been more than two weeks since Sean and Sarah left for Camp Herald. We had expected them to return within the first week, although none of us knew how long it would take to get there, or how long the registration process would take. The news listings had Camp Herald marked as both a registration
and
resettlement facility, meaning that both N.L.D. and citizens alike would have to suffer the extra time needed for sorting through new arrivals. There were many possible reasons for why they hadn’t made it back, but I refused to listen or entertain any fueled by my growing pessimism. It was best to remain hopeful, especially now that
we
would be making that same journey.

Powell and I finished loading the van with all the provisions we would need to last for at least two weeks, while Haley climbed into the back seat. I retrieved the map book from my dad’s truck, and we plotted our route around all of the already marked roads, sticking to those indicated as still functional. Beyond Powell’s destroyed house, the map was free of notes as none of us had ventured farther and returned. From that point on, our journey would be unpredictable. Randall suggested we take the high road instead of the highway—even though it was narrow and winding and didn’t reconnect to the highway at any point near Camp Herald, it would probably be less congested with abandoned vehicles, and it would offer an elevated view of the camp.

Of the five of us, only three would be making the journey. Over the last week, Gary’s demeanor had softened to that of self-pity or perhaps shame, and Randall seemed to have found a new purpose. Randall had once again turned to
The
Bible
, using it as a tool to help rid Gary of his demons, and as they sat and read together each day, both men were seemingly broken and remade. It was decided that Randall and Gary should stay and defend the house and all of our supplies so when we returned, we would have somewhere to return to.

***

The van’s radio warned of patrols for unregistered N.L.D. and that any civilian met with military personnel must have valid picture ID.