EMP Attack

When the trio left, an hour or so later, they had taken what little food they had found and all of the medicines from the bathroom medicine cabinet, along with several plastic containers of Angie's heart medication which had been sitting of the kitchen table.

Fortunately, Muriel, had hidden some of the packaged food a few days earlier in anticipation of a home invasion. However, they now had no front door and she felt completely vulnerable. She was unable to rouse the old woman who had slipped into unconsciousness just a few hours after their ordeal.

Too late to have done them any good, she remembered that her husband had a semi- automatic pistol hidden at the bottom of his underwear drawer. She retrieved it but slept fitfully that night in a chair next to Angie with the gun in her lap.

When she awoke to the sunlight peeking through the open front door, Angie Tentarro was dead. Muriel was still in shock from her previous day's ordeal and slumped back into the chair and cried.

Angie was not a small woman and there was no way that Muriel could move her, especially in her condition. There was also no way that she was going to stay in a house with no front door and a dead woman slowly decaying in the heat.

She thought about moving into Angie's house but the memory of having been assaulted and raped negated that thought. Owen had been restoring an old El Camino, working on it a little at a time, in the detached garage adjacent to the house. With no other option, she gathered up the food she had stashed, consisting mostly of dried instant soups; some boxes of Minute Rice; some canned stews; two cans of spam and the remaining water and moved into the garage.

The garage had a standard metal overhung door that was dented and rusted. Without power or releasing the door opening mechanism the door could not be opened from the outside. There was a wooden side door with glass panels that allowed her access to the cluttered garage. However, with no ventilation it was even hotter than inside of the house.

Making one last trip to the house to gather some clothes and other essentials she was horrified to see that flies had already found the old woman's body and were swarming around her face. Overcoming her revulsion, she sobbed as she took a blanket and covered the dead woman, tucking the blanket under her body as much as she could. Muriel just wanted to preserve as much dignity for her old friend as she could. Before leaving she said a prayer for Angie Tentarro, for herself and for the baby moving in her womb. She also asked God to wreak vengeance on the bastards who had killed her as surely as if they had shoved a knife into her heart.

Over the next ten days the only thoughts that kept her from killing herself were the unborn baby clamoring to see the light of day. They may both die anyhow, she thought, but maybe the miracle of his birth would be a harbinger of a miracle that would see an end to whatever madness had descended upon them.

Her husband's tools were stored in the shed so she had been able to affix a piece of plywood over the glass door panels so the light from her few remaining candles could not be seen from outside. With large nails that she found she also secured the door to, at least, discourage, looters.

"Who would want to break into a garage with a car that won't start", she thought.

From time to time she could hear voices in the street and one night she heard several guns shots close by but no one attempted to enter the garage.

At times she thought she was going crazy. The heat was oppressing and the tedium was maddening. She thought of a prison movie they had once watched where an inmate was given ninety days of solitary confinement, how he had survived the ordeal and was later exonerated. She thought about the Bataan march; stories of the Hanoi Hilton and even the Old Jail in St. Augustine that she had visited. She thought about all of the deprivations that men had suffered and were able to survive. These were the thoughts that she forced into her consciousness when she became overwhelmed with despair.

The dried soups she soaked in water until they were soft enough to eat. The unbearable temperature made the water hot enough that after a few hours the dried food was soggy enough to swallow.

Days ago she had consumed the last of the Spam and canned stews so there was very little left to eat. Her one saving grace was that Owen had one of those small dorm type refrigerators in the garage to hydrate himself while working on his car. It contained some water and beer. Her trepidation about expectant mothers consuming alcohol was now laughable and in her weakened condition the buzz she got from the beer was a slight respite from her misery.

However, almost all the food was gone and the possibility that she would never see her baby was quickly becoming a reality. The back seat of the El Camino was her living room and it was her bed room. The empty buckets were her toilet and despite pouring half empty cans of paint into them to mask the smell, the stench was overwhelming.

During the day enough light seeped through the sides of the dented garage door that she could at least see her surroundings and move about. The hood of the car had been left open. Presumably her husband had been working on the engine. There was some type of padded cushion draped over the fender to protect the paint when he worked under the hood. Out of curiosity she looked into the engine compartment and to her untrained eye there seemed to be nothing out of place. There were no loose parts or anything indicating that the engine wasn't in working condition. With nothing else to do to occupy her time she got behind the wheel and turned the key.

The sound of the engine roaring to life nearly scared her to death and her hand scrambled frantically to turn it off. She sat there for a long time thinking of the possibilities this might present. The one thing she knew for sure was that it could provide escape from this garage, this prison, this solitary confinement.

Fearfully, Muriel turned the key to accessory and the gauges sprang to life. She had never even sat inside this car before since this was her husband's domain and she had little interest in it. Looking at the unfamiliar dashboard she found the fuel gauge and and was delighted to see that it was half full. An indescribable feeling of euphoria seized her. She even tested the head lights and turn signals and was about to test the horn but at the last second realized the danger in exposing her presence.

Knowing that once she opened the overhead door danger might be staring her right in the face but the need to escape was overwhelming so she restarted the car before opening the door. The dented, rusty door presented her first problem and it took every bit of her strength to get it high enough where she hoped she could get the car under.

Jumping back into the car she put it in drive and to her amazement it leapt forward. She had no idea where she was going, but she was going and it felt wonderful.

The farther she got away from the city, the less people she encountered. Some yelled at her as she passed, some tried to wave her down but most looked at her in amazement. There were no other cars, no traffic lights but for the first part of her trip to nowhere, instinct guided her and she slowed down at stop signs and looked for the non- existent traffic at yield signs. Finally realizing the futility of her actions, she just traveled along without concern for traffic laws trying to keep the sun to her right, assuming that in doing so she would at least not be driving in circles.

Just over two and a half hours later the car sputtered to a halt. She was on a country road with nothing in sight but orchards. That's when her water broke and the first contraction seized her. Her fear was palpable but her only choice was to walk and hope to find shelter from the sun. It seemed like several miles and several more contractions later that she collapsed in front of a house where two vicious dogs kept her at bay.

*************************

Today was to be the trial run for the wind turbine and I could feel the anxiety that was etched on their faces as they moved in and out of the house making adjustments to the system. After a few technical set backs which they tried to explain to me in passing, none of which I comprehended, the main breaker was turned on.

From that day on we had air conditioning. Little by little they incorporated the use of other electrical appliances, constantly monitoring the system until they were comfortable with the results. Hurricane season was approaching and their next project was to replace the barn roof and make repairs to several sheds on the property.

Although still weak, Muriel seemed to improve daily. Her pallor improved and the dark circles around her eyes were fading. The once beautiful woman was reemerging.

One day I was changing the baby as Muriel slept. His eyes were curiously searching my face as he made little gurgling sounds and kicked his little legs sporadically. I was overcome with sadness as I thought about the realities that this new life would experience, or rather, not experience.

He would not have playmates as he grew. He would not experience his first day of school. He would only learn what could be taught by the people here in this isolated place. He would never have a coloring book or the toys to help him develop. He would never see a movie or watch television. He would never have the care of a doctor or dentist. Never have a driver's license much less a car to learn to drive in. He would never have a girlfriend to share a first kiss with.

More importantly he would never know his father or even see a picture of him.

Muriel had awoken and was silently watching me as I wiped away the tears from my cheeks.

She startled me when she asked in a concerned voice:

"Keri, what's wrong? Is baby OK?" I had to laugh, she had not talked about a name yet and just referred to him as, baby.

"Yes! Yes, he's fine. He's just so precious that it brought tears to my eyes."

I knew Bo was very busy all day but the times when he was in and out of the house he seemed uncomfortable around me and never showed any affection or interest towards the baby. Don, on the other hand, spent most evenings playing with the baby or keeping Muriel company. He relished being a surrogate father and once having watched him softly patting baby's back and cooing to him as he burped him. I felt a surge or resentment, that was supposed to be MY child he was comforting. I was supposed to be the mother that he was fawning over.

The steady rain that had started in the afternoon, continued into the evening was very welcomed since we had suffered a long dry spell and it was affecting the crops. After dinner when Don had retired upstairs, Bo was sitting on the sofa reading by the light of our new found power. I had not had sex with my husband since the baby was born but tonight was the night I was supposed to sleep in Bo's room.

He put his book down and smiled weakly as I sat next to him, perching on the edge of the sofa.

Instinctively, I knew there was something wrong and it had to be confronted, so I came right out and asked:

"Bo are you upset with me for having helped Muriel and brought us in to our-----your house?"

He reached over and held my hand and after a moment of thought, replied:

"No Keri, not at all. I would have done the same thing. Oh, I know I've sent people packing, even families, to meet whatever fate awaited them down the road but that's a far cry from allowing an innocent person to die on your doorstep."

He looked away for a few moments, seemingly formulating his next words before continuing:

"Frankly, she and the baby probably owe their lives to Don. I don't think I could have been much help if he hadn't taken charge. Your know I never saw my son, only in pictures. I was in a foreign desert taking lives not saving them when my son was being born. All I could think of was how much I had wanted to be in that delivery room when he first opened his eyes. How I wanted me to be the first person that he saw when he came into the world. That's why I couldn't stay in the room the other day. Even now the memory hurts."

" I'm glad that you did what you did, Keri. Maybe playing, even a small part, in their survival will atone for some of the things I've had to do. They are certainly welcome here in 'OUR' house."

There were tears in my eyes as he put his arm around me and eased me back against his chest.

We slept together that night but did not consummate the love that we both knew that we now had for one another.

************************

The transition was slow. Don and I kept to our arrangement but despite my feeble attempts to make love to him, he gently rebuffed them all. I guess he knew he had lost me. I still loved Don and always will but not with the passion of lovers. Not as husband and wife.

er about a month I abandoned the pretense and never slept upstairs again. One night after Bo and I had brought me to several climaxes we were lying quietly in each other's arms when my new husband chuckled. When I asked him what was so funny, he whispered:

"Shhhh, just listen"

I began to smile in the darkness as I heard the faint moans of pleasure and the creaking of the bed coming from upstairs.

*******************

Ten months later I was lying in bed with my legs spread as Muriel squeezed my hands and urged me to push hard. With a final spasm of pain my ex husband eased my baby daughter into this new world with a delighted Bo Johnson standing by his side.