Walking Alone: An Emberverse Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own any of the characters, settings or plot of the S.M. Stirling story: Dies the fire. This story is not for profit, merely for fun and entertainment because I really like the book.
Chapter 1:
Though it was cooler in Seattle than it would be back home in L.A. in March, I didn't mind so much. Still, for a Californian, 50 degrees was considered freezing and I was sitting on the porch so I zipped up my heavy coat as I dialed the phone. I didn't want to run up grandpa's phone bill so I bought the calling card before I came out to visit him. Being in Seattle at this time of year was generally strange anyway; I should've been in school but it was gramps eightieth birthday coming up and plus I'd been working so hard in school; mom and dad figured that I could use the time off.
Besides, I loved gramps and I loved visiting him though why he preferred being out in the sticks was beyond me. He always said the forest reminded him of growing up which was why he liked it. I was a city kid myself but I could appreciate a little nature every now and then. Additionally, grandpa taught me stuff like fishing and camping which I found pretty cool. Still, if I had my druthers, I'd rather be home watching anime or at the mall or especially with my girlfriend Vanessa.
The phone rang three times before Mr. Sanchez picked it up. "Hello?" he answered with his burly voice that matched his frame. Even if I'd never met him, it wasn't hard to visualize a six foot two monster of a man with a bristling black beard and forearms the size of tank barrels. Fortunately for me, he liked me and was cool with me dating his daughter. He didn't even have a problem with the fact that I was black; to him, I was like the son he wished he had, totally unlike 'Nessa's older brother Patrick who was an all around asshole. If I did have a problem with him, well I'd call in my grandpa to kick his ass. He defined the term "tough old man."
"Hey Mr. Sanchez, it's me, Claude. May I speak with Vanessa please?" I asked as sweetly as you'd please.
"Claude! Sure, I'll go get her, hold on a sec." Mr. Sanchez said, his tone lightening up. I couldn't wait to speak with her; then again, I never could wait. She was the light of my sixteen year old life, she was living proof that the impossible could happen. Not only was she beautiful, one of the hottest girls in my school I thought (but I might be biased), she was a straight A student and a closet geek.
We were the unlikeliest pairing, she being the popular, beautiful smart girl and me with decent book smarts but I worked hard to keep my grades up. We planned to go to USC together when we graduated. Granted that was a whole year from now but still, we thought big. I admit that even though she really helped me keep my grades up, she was a bit of a distraction sometimes; it could be really hard to think around her while smelling her perfume and watching her toss her brown locks in that cute way that drove me crazy.
On top of all that, when I could summon the willpower to not spend every single minute of my free time with her, I still had to win at the World Kendo Championships to qualify to go to Japan to study with some actual masters. I'd been taking Kendo since I was twelve; the local YMCA offered classes and since I wasn't interested in normal sports such as football or basketball (much to my father's chagrin), I took up Kendo to focus my nervous energies. Since it involved something cool like swords, dad was all for it though it freaked out mom; mom's were like that though when it came to the risk of their kids getting hurt. When she argued against it though, when she saw my grades go up, I was easily able to make the argument that "Kendo gave me the self-discipline to focus," she couldn't argue with that. To everyone's surprise including mine, I was actually really good at it.
Though when I first started, I was too young to achieve 1st Dan, I excelled in every aspect at my level and when it came time, I blew the 1st Dan test away. Four years later, I was 3rd Dan and easily on my way to becoming fourth. If I had to take a guess as to why I was so skilled at it, I think it was because I was really into the Samurai culture and the code of Bushido. I had tons of books on the Samurai back home liberally mixed in with my comic books and Manga.
It seemed like an eternity but Vanessa finally answered the phone. "Hey Claude, how's Seattle treating you?" she asked with that sultry voice that she had that was so unlike the average sixteen year old girl. I felt my jeans tightening at the very thought of her. Then again at my age, even looking at the forest made me think about sex, thinking about Vanessa and what we'd do someday was a recipe for an instant hard on.
"Pretty good but it would be a lot better if you were here." I said coyly over the phone. That made her giggle and I chuckled too. "Nah, everything is fine up here. Hanging out with grandpa is always a good time and we've been doing a lot of stuff." I said.
"Cool. I thought you told me that your mom and dad were supposed to be flying in tonight?"
"Yeah, they should be in the air now actually. Grandpa and I are gonna pick them up at the airport and from there, we're going to take him out to his favorite restaurant as a surprise." I whispered the last part so that way grandpa couldn't hear. "I just wanted to hear your voice before we rolled out is all. I really miss you 'Nessa."
She was in the middle of saying "I miss you too" when there was a bright flash between my eyes that didn't quite blind me but made me see spots, then the phone suddenly cut out. "Hello?" I asked repeatedly as I shook and hit the cordless phone. "Damn, I thought for sure it was charged." I muttered. I got up and walked into the house and it was then that I noticed that the power was out as well.
"Claude, where you at boy?" Grandpa called from a back room.
"On the porch grandpa, the phone's out as well as the power." I called back.
"Well check the circuit breakers and see if you can get them going again. There should be a flashlight in the kitchen drawer."
"Okay" I replied and did my best not to trip in the darkness of the house. Since it was mid-March, the sun had gone down good and early and nights out in the forest were famous for being extremely dark since there was hardly any light pollution from the city. I found the flashlight but when I clicked it on, nothing happened which was very, very odd.
"Grandpa, the flashlight isn't working either." I called out. I got no verbal response from grandpa but one of his thoughtful grunts.
"Check and see if the neighbor's houses are out too grandson, willya? Meanwhile, there should be some candles and matches, see if you can get those going." He said. Sure enough, there the candles were right next to the inoperative flashlight. I breathed a small sigh of relief when the flame caught the wick and illuminated the dark kitchen.
I made my way to the porch and surveyed the land. Grandpa owned a couple of acres of land; he'd bought them and the house after he retired from the Smith Wesson gun factory after working there for fifty years. He wanted to get away from L.A. and at his age, I couldn't blame him. "Too fast out here!" He would exclaim exasperated to my dad who was his son. Because it was sparse, his neighbors were in short supply but they did exist, all three of them.
I looked across the field to the Peterson's house and sure enough, their lights were out as well. I jogged the quarter mile over to their property and knocked on their door. I looked in the driveway and sure enough, their car was there which meant that they were most likely home. I heard some shuffling before the door opened and Mr. Peterson's tall, blonde frame greeted me. "Hello, Claude. It seems we're having some power outage huh? It's so bad, not even the generator works. Are you guys okay?"
"We're fine, thanks for asking. It's dark at our house as well. Grandpa wanted to see if it wasn't just limited to us, guess that confirms it."
Mr. Peterson nodded thoughtfully and then asked: Are your phones and flashlights out too? We have four flashlights and three phones and not a single one is working! That's really damned odd you know?" He said in his North Washington accent.
"Yeah, really odd." I repeated numbly as my mind began to wander. What he said didn't make sense; there was no way possible that all the power including phones and even flashlights could be out in two different places. After all, what were the odds? I thanked Mr. Peterson and trotted back to the house, my mind racing the whole time. There was no way that was possible unless….
Fear clenched my stomach and made my legs pump even harder. I covered the quarter mile in Olympic level time and threw open the door. It was only when I was inside that I recovered my breath. The flash before my eyes, the sudden loss of power in everything electrical had to mean EMP. We covered the subject in physics; EMP was usually the result of a nuclear detonation in the upper atmosphere. But if that were the case, why hadn't I seen or felt a blast? Why wasn't I dying of radiation poisoning. On a whim, I checked my watch and sure enough, it had stopped working as well. The hands stopped at 6:15.
Panic spurred me on as I picked up the candle I laid on the porch and made my way to grandpa. When I tried to tell him about what I thought, he raised his hands. "Whoa, slow down son! Now say that again but this time slower so us old folks can understand." He said with a smirk on his face. That got me to calm down a little too. Grandpa always had a quiet strength about him that seemed to radiate outwards and reassure others. It never failed to do the trick and calm me down.
Taking his advice, I repeated what I said but this time slower and more calmly. Grandpa rubbed his chin thoughtfully, making the gray stubble rasp like sandpaper. He smiled and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing like that son, this is just some sort of…weather thing. Things will be back to normal in no time!" He said but I could see the doubt in his eyes.
"But what if it isn't?" I retorted. "Maybe we should take a look?"
He nodded at that and led the way to his car, an old VW Rabbit. Just as I feared, the engine wouldn't turn over. "Okay, this might be a problem." Grandpa said slowly after the fourth try. "Come on, we'll have to walk to 'Miller's General Store,' it's not too far from here. Maybe he has some news that we don't."
"Yeah, maybe the effect is localized to just around here." I agreed albeit a little shakily. He nodded and patted me on the shoulder.
"Just in case though…" He began and walked into the house. I followed him, picking up the candle from the porch. At first I found it odd that grandpa wouldn't pick up the candle but then I remembered that he knew the house like the back of his hand. It was I that was in danger of breaking my neck. He returned with a Coleman lantern and his .38 tucked into a holster on his right hip. When he saw my surprise he gave me one of those reassuring nods. "Like I said, for just in case. You never know right? You might want to get that stick you practice with." He said as he lowered his coat over his gun.
Nodding, I went to my room and retrieved my bokken that I'd brought with me. Just because I was on vacation didn't mean I could slack off on my Kendo training. I practiced for an hour a day, every day. If there was trouble, hopefully, I'd be able to handle myself. If anything else, the bokken was essentially a solid oak club in the shape of a katana blade and could do major damage, especially in the hands of somebody who knew how to use it. It was meant for practicing katas, not combat but it would do the job in a pinch.
My thoughts drifted toward my family and Vanessa as I came from my room. I hoped that I was right and it was merely a localized effect and it would merely blow over. I had this sinking feeling though that it wasn't. I met my grandpa on the porch. "Ready grandson?" he asked. I picked up the candle and nodded and off we went.
It never ceased to amaze me the kind of shape that grandpa was in. He barely broke a sweat as we walked. Meanwhile, I was glistening slightly and I thought I was in pretty good shape from Kendo. When grandpa said "Miller's General Store is not too far from here," he failed to say that it was four miles away from the house. "C'mon boy, keep up now!" Grandpa said in way of encouragement. I nodded, suppressing a groan. He'd been doing his Army exercises every day since the day he got out of the service and this is a veteran of World War Two and Korea.
Streetlights were few and far in between and as such, kept the surrounding area in minimal light. Without them, it was pitch black except for our lights making everything look eerie. The surrounding trees helped to swallow any of the ambient light the stars gave off. We could hear the assorted cries of the denizens of the forest. As many times as I'd been camping with grandpa, it never ceased to give me the willies. He on the other hand took it in stride like he did with just about everything else. I guess if I were an old black man living in rural Washington State, I'd probably have to take a lot of things in stride too.
Finally, we got to Miller's and much to our chagrin was greeted by more darkness. Not only was there darkness but also looters. Blackouts did strange things to people. I should know, I'd been through a couple of them back home; I saw how people thought they could get away with anything when the lights went out. Factor in nothing working at all and rural Washington was no exception to rule. I guess people are really the same all over.
Grandpa's hand automatically went to his revolver and pulled it out. "Stay here boy!" he commanded and pushed me behind him. He was never one to stand idly by and watch something horrible go down, not when he could do something to prevent it.
"Grandpa wait!" I yelled but he shot me a glance that said to do as I was told. He rushed into the fray, yelling at the looters to stop and waving his pistol at them. I was going to be damned if I was going to let my grandpa get hurt, so I ran and stood by his side, pointing my bokken at the crowd. I turned around to see Mr. Miller, the owner, sitting on the floor of the shop, holding his head.
He turned and looked at me with a combination of surprise and anger. "Boy, what the hell do you think you're doing? What did I tell you?" He growled at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of movement. I turned to see one of the looters produce a pistol of his own and level it at us. "Look out!" grandpa shouted as he turned and pulled the trigger.
That was when things got really interesting, the gun didn't go off. Grandpa looked at it in surprise and pulled the trigger again and again, getting the same result each time. "What the hell?" he asked rhetorically. He was shocked out of his reverie when he heard a loud click coming from the looter with the big pistol. The guy shared the same expression with my grandpa: bewilderment. Grandpa showed me a little something about guns and I knew enough that six misfires on a revolver is next to impossible unless the gun was a total piece of crap. Being a retired Smith and Wesson employee, I knew damned well that grandpa's gun was fully operational.
There was something weird going on but I didn't have time to worry about that because we were getting rushed. I think grandpa was hoping the threat of force with his revolver would be enough to get the crowd to disperse. Now that Plan A was a botch, we were royally fucked because we didn't think far enough ahead for a Plan B. Fortunately for us, some of the crowd had lost interest and some had come to their sense and were even trying to urge the crowd to disperse. Since the phones were out as well as CBs, the cops would be a long time coming.
"Stay back!" I yelled as I waved my bokken to and fro. I started thinking about never seeing Vanessa again or my seventeenth birthday at the wrong time but I couldn't help it. Luckily, some of the ones who were about to rush thought twice. One of them however, the guy with the gun, got bold and came forward. My grandpa was unprepared for his attack and the two went tumbling to the dark ground. I think the man was unprepared for my grandpa's strength because he was struggling. Before I could help though, I had my own problems to worry about. One of them came forward and I rapped his right hand with the bokken, my strike not as controlled as normal. Still, it got the job done and retreated, holding his hurt member.
When I turned to my grandpa, I was in time to see the man produce a switchblade and stab it into my grandpa's ribs. "No!" I shouted and ran to them. The crowd seeing this was shocked into silence. Meanwhile, the man got up and waved the knife in my face. Even in my shock, I took note of his features. He was about six foot two, a whole six inches taller than my frame and had about a good fifty pounds on me with a dusting of black hair on his chin and steel gray eyes. He was wearing a red checkered flannel shirt and ripped up jeans.
"C'mon little man, you want some of this?" He hissed at me, waving the knife around like a viper. Anger welled up inside me but then somehow, I was able to tamp it down. Instead, I focused on my training; this was life and death now, not a tournament. The crowd looked on in amazement of the standoff. Some of them went down to help my grandpa. None of them wanted to mess with a guy with a switchblade though but then again, there was so much confusion, I couldn't exactly blame them.
I took a step back and exhaled slowly as I brought the bokken to waist height, the tip pointing at my enemy. This was the general basic stance which served as both defense and offense. He smiled as he lunged at me, making the move I thought he'd make. Simultaneously, I brought my wooden sword down on his head, a men strike just like I'd practiced thousands and thousands of times. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was amazed at how automatically the training just took over. I was going full out with the blow too, not pulling it like I usually would in training.
The sound of a wet crack pierced the sky and blood streamed out of the man's head as he slumped to the ground. His eyes lolled up and backward into his eye sockets. I stood there for a moment shaking, not feeling anything at all. The numbness permeated every part of my body. When the screams rang out, I was jolted back into reality. "He's dead!" somebody shouted. I turned on the rest of the crowd, waving my bokken at them.
"Stay back, stay the fuck back!" I shouted at the crowd, my voice hoarse with pent up emotion. Mercifully, the remainder of the crowd retreated. When they'd finally dispersed, my hands shook and dropped the bokken. I looked at the fallen man. At the sight of his split skull, I threw up violently. I couldn't believe I just killed somebody; my mind didn't want to believe it. It was then that I remembered my grandpa. "Grandpa!" I yelled and ran to him, my lips still covered with vomit.
I wiped my lips on the sleeve of my jacket and cradled my grandpa's head in my arms. One of the people who were by his side looked at me and shook his head. "I'm sorry son." He said. Grandpa's eyes stared up at the sky like they were fixed on a star. All the vitality that he had that I'd known my whole life was gone from his inert form. I couldn't stop the tears from falling from my eyes like a long awaited deluge. My body shook from the sobs; I thought I'd given up crying a few years ago but I didn't care and I didn't care who saw, my grandpa was dead.
I stayed there for what seemed like hours, holding him though it had only been a few minutes. The logical part of my mind managed to assert itself a little and made me ask why hadn't the cops shown up? When I mentioned as such to the man who was by my grandpa's side at the end and Mr. Miller who finally managed to get to his feet, they were silent. It was a stupid question, I knew that but I was too much in shock to be thinking completely clearly.
Emergency services would be not only swamped but useless since nothing electronic worked. That meant no phones, no radios, not even a squad car could do a quick drive by to check on things. Not only that, from what we saw, guns didn't work either which was the biggest advantage the cops had over any criminals. Now, everybody was on equal footing, it didn't take a genius to know what that meant. I didn't dare try to think of the implications of that, I didn't want to, not yet.
"Son, you should go home, there's nothing more you can do here." Mr. Miller said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"I just can't leave him here!" I snapped at him, even though I didn't want to.
If Mr. Miller was offended, he didn't show it. On the contrary, his face showed infinite patience and understanding. "Claude, I've a bad feeling that things are going to get real dangerous, real soon around here. Boy your age shouldn't be out alone. You should go home where it's safe; your grandpappy would want you to be safe." He said. His white hair and tone of voice gave him the appearance of a sagely old man, sort of like Obi Wan Kenobi. Much as I hated to admit it, his logic did make sense. I frowned but nodded in agreement.
They both helped me to my feet which were mounted on unsteady legs and gave me a second to compose myself. Mr. Miller motioned to me to wait for a moment as he went back inside his store. He came back with a wheelbarrow and I nodded as I understood. The three of us lifted my grandpa's body into the wheelbarrow and made our way back up to his house.
Between carrying the body and burying him in the woods behind the house, we were all exhausted. Being the good men that they were, they offered to stay but I knew that they had their own families to attend to. I assured them that I'd be fine and locked myself in. I spent the rest of that night crying and feeling scared, hoping that whatever...this was would blow over and things would return to normal. Needless to say that I slept horribly that night.