Desolation Read online

  Gary’s neighbor, dressed in bright pink workout shorts and a neon green tank top, strolled down her driveway. She cradled a newborn in her arms. “Good morning, Gary!” she chirped.

  “Morning, Kate.”

  Kate bounced her baby lightly. “You know why the power’s out?”

  Gary shook his head. “Me and Jenn are headed over to ask Liam. We’ll let you know if we hear any news.”

  “But my phone isn’t even working.”

  He kept walking. “Ours neither. We’ll let you know.”

  “Um, okay,” Kate sputtered.

  Farther down, another of Gary’s neighbors, one Jenn didn’t recognize, stood in the middle of the street. His hands on his hips, he scanned the sky. Jenn looked up, too, but she only saw the tops of pine trees and blue sky. She thought about asking, but he hadn’t acknowledged Jenn or Gary as they passed.

  “So,” Gary said to Jenn, “when do you think you’ll head home to Phoenix?”

  “What?”

  “Your exams are done. When are you planning to head back?”

  “I don’t know. End of the month?”

  Gary stuck his hands in his pockets. “That’s what I guessed. You’re welcome to stay a bit longer if you want.”

  “No, I should probably go home soon. I haven’t seen my parents since Christmas.” Jenn felt guilty about that. They’d spent their retirement savings to pay for Jenn’s tuition, and before that, they paid for Jenn to play high school softball. When it came time to apply for university, Jenn banked on a scholarship, but it never happened. Schools didn’t have much money these days, either, it seemed. At the last minute, days before the tuition deadline in Jenn’s first year, her parents came through with the money. Then they found the Ruiz family, who helped cover Jenn’s living expenses.

  Jenn’s parents sacrificed everything for her. The least she could do was spend more time with them.

  “I’ll need to start looking for summer jobs eventually,” she said. “You know how well that goes.”

  “Might be easier to find a job here. I’m sure I can talk to someone.”

  Jenn appreciated the offer. Gary was a sort of fixture in Flagstaff, and he knew people who’d probably hire her for casual, under-the-table work. She loved billeting with him and Maria during the school year, but she needed to spend as much time with her family as possible before September. Jenn had turned twenty in January, which made her eligible for conscription in the military draft this summer. Come fall, she might find herself at basic training instead of in a physics lecture.

  “Thanks, but I should go home. Plus, Sam’s going home again this summer.” Had Sam even woken up yet? Did he know what was happening? He liked sleeping in late, just like Jenn, but he didn’t have to contend with Gary starting home-improvement projects at 7:00 a.m., most of which, coincidentally, involved noisy power tools. She usually stayed over at Sam’s place on weekends, when they’d wake up late and then lie in bed together until noon, sometimes later, talking, laughing, fooling around, or binging shows. She wished she’d spent last night with him, too.

  “Okay, no problem,” Gary said. “We’re happy to have you back in September.”

  That comment hit Jenn in the stomach. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? I’d love to come stay with you, but that’s not really my call anymore.”

  “Sorry. That must be tough for you.”

  “That’s an understatement, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Have you thought more about what I said? About enlisting?”

  “No,” Jenn said, almost reflexively.

  “You know how the army treats conscripts,” Gary continued. “You can’t choose your service. If you enlist, you’ll have a say where you end up. There’ll be opportunity for advancement. If you’re drafted, you’ll—”

  “Fuck, Gary. No.” She’d told him that a hundred times already, but he kept pushing. He pushed Sam, too. The last time he did, about two months ago, Sam lashed out and fought back. He hadn’t come back to the Ruiz house since then, a situation both he and Gary seemed content with.

  “It’s not like it was this time last year. We’re moving into China, and word is, the Russians are ready for peace talks.”

  Gary was right about that. After seven years of government mismanagement and strategic bungling, America and its allies had finally straightened out the war effort and were making headway. Just last night, partisans in Hong Kong ousted the Chinese garrison and welcomed American marines as liberators. Northern India was back under Allied control, European forces had encircled Kiev, and the Russians were running like hell from Poland. The Second Brazilian Empire had all but withdrawn from Mexico and now faced pressure closer to home thanks to Argentina joining the American side. According to Gary, this was as good of a reason as any for Jenn to enlist. She thought the opposite. Casualties were still high and predicted to climb even higher as American forces pushed deeper into China. The tide might have turned in America’s favor, but so far, this war made the one fought in 1939–1945 look like a schoolyard fistfight.

  “All the more reason to stay here,” Jenn said. “Besides, my family’s not doing so great with the war so far. I think I’ll take my chances with the draft.”

  “I’m just trying to help. I don’t want you spending all summer worrying and then end up getting drafted anyway. There’s other options.”

  Jenn had heard that line before, and she hated it. Both of her older brothers enlisted. An IED killed one in Mexico and the other went into an Indian jungle and never came out. The war had taken enough from Jenn’s family. She couldn’t risk letting it take more. “I wouldn’t say ending up in a box beside my brothers is really an option,” she said.

  Jenn waited for Gary’s response, but it didn’t come. Then she realized why: she’d crossed a line. His daughter, Camila, enlisted the day after Congress declared war on China. Things were fine for years, but then Gary and Maria stopped hearing from Camila last July. Jenn could only discuss the war with Gary in an abstract, detached way. Contemplating America’s fortunes in Ukraine, Asia, and Mexico was fine, but as soon as the topic of casualties came up, the conversation always died. Gary had received no official government notice about Camila or her well-being. Maria held on and thought Camila was alive and coming home. Gary gave up on her almost immediately, and Jenn understood why. After years of regular emails, Camila going MIA meant only one thing.

  Jenn was ready to apologize, but Gary turned onto Liam’s driveway. His house was the mirror version of Gary’s: the two-car garage was on the left, not the right, and the gravel in Liam’s yard was brown, almost red, while that in Gary’s was a bluish gray. Liam also had less of a garden, which made sense considering the water restrictions.

  Gary pressed the doorbell. Jenn leaned in, listening for the chime. She only heard herself breathing. He pressed it a second time, but it didn’t ring.

  “Try knocking,” Jenn said.

  Gary knocked three times. Jenn kept her ear to the door, but Gary tugged her back. Then Jenn heard a deadbolt slide, and the door opened, revealing Liam’s wife, Erin, her bright orange hair wet from a recent shower.

  “Oh, hi, Gary. Hi, Jenn,” she said in her light Irish accent. “What brings you two to this end of the block?”

  “Hey, Erin,” Gary said. “Liam home today?”

  Erin tugged at the bottom of her Colorado Rockies T-shirt and shook her head. “No, he had the day shift today. Seventh in a row. He should be home around 6:30. Hey, is your power down? My lights are out. I tried calling Liam but couldn’t get a signal. Usually, our Powerwall kicks in and the house runs on solar during blackouts, but it’s not working. I’m starting to get a little worried.”

  “Same here,” Gary said. “Have you checked your car?”

  “Nope. Why should I?”

  “Listen to it out here,” Jenn said. “You can’t hear the highway.”

  Erin tugged at her shirt again. “Okay. Let me grab my keys.” She left the door open and disappeared
inside.

  Jenn and Gary made their way to Erin’s car, a Ford SUV from probably the late thirties or early forties. A cord ran from a plug on the garage to the hood of the car, so Jenn judged it an electric and narrowed her estimate to the early forties. Gary circled it, bending down to check the fenders, wheels, everything.

  “You a little jealous there, Gary?”

  He perked up. “No. Well, yes. Maybe a little.”

  “Why? Your Kia’s nicer than this. Cheaper to charge, too.”

  “Yeah, but I always used to drive trucks. That little sedan’s not my style.”

  Erin appeared in the doorway. She held up a black key fob and mashed the button with her thumb. “Is it open?” she asked.

  Jenn pulled the driver’s door handle. “Nope.”

  Erin scrunched up her face as she pressed the button again. “How about now?”

  “Still nothing,” Jenn said. “You might need to try the old-fashioned way.”

  Erin flipped through her keys. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed to use this.” She stuck the key in the door and opened it, then hopped up, sat in the seat, and pressed her thumb to the ignition.

  “Well?” Gary asked, coming around from the back of the Ford and standing beside Jenn.

  “It won’t turn on,” Erin said, holding down the ignition button. “It was plugged in all night. Why would it be dead?”

  “Gary,” Jenn started, “was your car plugged in?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe that has something to do with it,” Jenn said.

  Erin gripped the steering wheel and leaned her head back. “Debbie’s getting ready for school. How am I supposed to drop her off?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Gary said. “Something tells me there won’t be school today.”

  Erin hopped out of the Ford and shut the door. “You think so? You think the power will be off that long?”

  “I think you should keep her home today. Stay inside and wait for Liam to come home.”

  She rustled her hair and blew her cheeks. “I don’t want her to get in any trouble,” she said. “Last time there was a blackout, the kids stayed in school until the end of the day.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said. “If your car isn’t working and the highway’s quiet, the teachers might not have working cars, either. Best to play it safe, you know? I think Liam would agree.”

  “Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “I hope you’re right.”

  “How about this? I’ll go check on Maria and come back in about thirty, forty minutes. If the power comes back on by then, I can drive Debbie to school for you.”

  Erin put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Thanks. I wish we had more neighbors like you.”

  “No problem,” Gary said. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take care now.”

  “Tell Maria I say hi. Bye, Jenn!” Erin said with a wave before heading back inside.

  Jenn pulled her phone from her pocket and went to text Sam, but she still didn’t have any service. She hoped he’d slept in and was still at home. Without a phone, it’d be impossible to find him if he went out. They’d walked together between Gary’s and NAU a hundred times, though, so chances were good they’d cross paths if Sam was already on his way over. “Hey, Gary,” she said. “I’m going over to Sam’s place.”

  “Good. He’s probably worried sick about you. You want a ride?”

  “That’s fine. I’m used to the walk. Go check on Maria. Plus, you need to check on Erin like you said you would. She’s not really getting it, I don’t think.”

  “I know. I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Gary patted Jenn on the back. “Just try not to be too long at Sam’s. Maria worries about you, you know.”

  Jenn smiled. “I know. I worry about her, too. I’ll find Sam and we’ll come back to your place. And don’t think about cleaning that pan. You always do a shitty job.”

  3

  Jenn felt the phone in her back pocket. She thought about pulling it out and checking to see if Sam texted or called, but she hesitated. In the twenty minutes since she’d left Gary’s and headed for campus, she’d checked three times and still had no service. She doubted a fourth check would turn out any differently.

  On her left, behind a line of thin pines, was the local doctor’s office, a single-story concrete building that looked more like a bunker than a medical practice. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot, which struck Jenn as odd. Doctor Park always had lineups of patients waiting to see her.

  Across University Avenue, an elderly couple strolled down the path leading from a gray townhouse complex to the sidewalk. They reminded Jenn of Gary and Maria. The woman held onto the man’s arm. An oxygen tank, smaller than Maria’s, hung from a strap on her left shoulder. Early-stage COPD, Jenn figured, probably from years of smoking e-cigarettes, just like Maria.

  Two blocks farther down, a half dozen cars littered the intersection of University and Woodlands Boulevard. In the middle, below a set of dead traffic lights, a white pickup and a red sedan had collided. A crowd gathered on the far corner, next to an old L-shaped strip mall with a roof covered in glistening blue solar panels. In the crosswalk, a group of three looked up at the sky. One of them, a young woman wearing a Diamondbacks cap, pointed up. The other two, a man in a dress shirt and another woman, this one wearing a yellow sundress, shaded their eyes and craned their necks back.

  Jenn remembered the man on Gary’s street. He was looking up, too, but she didn’t ask at what. She wanted to keep moving and get to Sam’s, but she couldn’t ignore four people staring at the sky. “What are you looking at?” Jenn asked.

  The man lowered his arm and took his hand off his forehead. “We’re looking for planes.”

  “Planes?”

  “Yeah,” the woman in the Diamondbacks cap said. “None of us have seen one all morning.”

  The man looked up again. “This time of day on Friday, there should be tons coming into Phoenix. I haven’t heard any taking off or landing in town, either.”

  Jenn swallowed hard. She knew the answer to her next question but asked it anyway. Hoping she was jumping to conclusions, she wanted this man to cast doubt, no matter how small, on the connection between the power, cars, planes, and everything else. “Anything to do with the cars?”

  “Must be,” he said. “Could be a coincidence, I guess. I’m hoping coincidence. I never really paid much attention to planes, so it might be normal. Who knows?”

  The woman in the sundress eyed Jenn and perked up. “Does your phone work?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Jenn said, “but I can’t get a signal.”

  “Us neither. Nobody seems to know anything.”

  “Nope. Well, hopefully we find out soon.” Jenn offered the trio a smile and made her way to the far side of the intersection. There, in a crowd of a dozen or so by the strip mall, a woman sat in the gravel between the sidewalk and the strip mall’s parking lot. Two others stood over here. One had a hand on her shoulder. Jenn thought she saw blood on the woman’s forehead.

  “Where the hell are the police?” came the voice of a man wearing a green plaid shirt. He had his hands on his head and paced the sidewalk. A woman followed and rested a hand on his back. He acted like she was invisible. The owner of the pickup that hit the sedan?

  Stepping onto the sidewalk, Jenn kept her head down while sneaking a look at the woman on the ground. Someone dabbed at her forehead with a white cloth, then pulled it away, revealing red blotches.

  The group’s chatter died as Jenn weaved through. She felt her cheeks flush and averted her eyes. Were they expecting her to offer help? What could she do? Her phone didn’t work, so she couldn’t call the police. She didn’t know the first thing about first aid. She considered asking them if they had news but guessed that would come off as blunt or insensitive. Walking by without offering to help had apparently come off the same way.

  Between the intersection and Milton Drive, where she’d hang a right, then a quick left,
and be just a few blocks from Sam’s place, she counted six more stalled cars along University. Most came to a rest in the middle of the street or on the shoulder, but one ended up through a chain-link fence. Some owners and passengers had stayed with their vehicles, presumably waiting for the police or someone to offer help. Several shot Jenn pleading looks, but she kept moving. If things were this bad in Flagstaff, what would Phoenix be like? She pictured the scene: highways littered with the corpses of rush-hour traffic and sweaty commuters screaming at each other in hundred-degree heat.

  Ahead, flashing red and blue lights caught Jenn’s eye. A block down, at the intersection with Milton, two police cars straddled University. She spotted another crowd, this one larger than the one she passed earlier, collecting in the parking lot of a long-closed gas station.

  Maybe the police knew something. Besides, if she hadn’t run into Sam yet, maybe he hadn’t left home. His dorm was less than a five-minute walk now. She kept on the sidewalk and approached the police cars.

  A semicircle of thirty or forty formed around four officers clad in their black shirts and black pants. Was Liam one of them? She didn’t know him well, not well enough to stop by his house alone, but he and Gary were close, despite the thirty-year age gap, and Jenn trusted Gary’s choice in friends.

  One officer stepped ahead of the other three and lifted his hands above his waist as if making a case. From this far away, Jenn only caught fragments of what he said, but she understood the gist of it: keep calm, go home, and wait there. It wasn’t Liam, though. None of them were.

  She made out more of the chatter as she closed with the group. Several spoke and many shouted, but one man’s voice rose above the others. “We can’t just leave our cars in the middle of the road like this. How will I know where it gets towed if my phone doesn’t work?”

  A chorus of agreement rumbled through the crowd before the voice of a woman quieted it again. “I live up on Lockett,” she cried from the front of the group. She knelt next to a four- or five-year-old boy. “How are we supposed to get home? My husband’s out of town and I can’t get a hold of him.”