Chapter 42

Thank you, what’s the deal?” I asked as I took the offered towel from Sheila’s hands and fluff-dried my thinning mane. Hair loss among men is a myth. It’s not so much our locks leave as they change location. The stuff which had lived on my head now sprouted from my ears.

“Jen thinks the ionosphere has settled enough for shortwave. At her suggestion, I’ve decided it time we start a 24/7 radio watch. You got the first shift. Listen and log, let’s see what’s going on out there.” She hesitated and sniffed as she knelt and held open my dingy, no longer white underwear. “Don’t you have anything clean?” “I do. Back in my room. I didn’t pack.”

I thankfully touched my hand to her head for balance as she eased my foot into the correct opening. With the agility of an ox, I managed it on the second try.

“At last count, they’re sixteen thousand commercial radio transmitters, give or take, in the northern hemisphere,” Jennifer noted as she fiddled with a bank of switches and meters.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” she whispered and patted the Coast Guard gray metal case housing the vintage relic from the seventies. The thirty pound Yaesu FT-101EE radio was a Craigslist steal, acquired by the Society for a few cents on the dollar. The rig was beautifully maintained and lovingly cared for. The fifty-year-old workhorse still had the original protective film of plastic covering its face to protect the radio from scratches and dirt.

“Then again, maybe not,” she muttered after several minutes without success. Nothing but random noise.

“Even in the worst atmospherics we should hear something,” Her dark eyes narrowed as she slowly spun the silver dial and scanned the airwaves.

“They call it dead air for a reason,” she sighed.

“Ninety-watts should get us noticed, she re-set the power and keyed the mike. “You-Hoo! Anyone on? Radio check.”

“I read you four by four. Mable here down in Meeker, South between East Market and the river. Lady, it great to hear another voice. You’re my first contact since it happened. Who is this? Over.”

“Liberty Mountain calling, Jen here. We’re within fifty miles. We live away from folks. Mable, you are also the first outside connection since the shit hit the fan. What happened at your end? Over.”

“Jen, are you a licensed operator? Over.”

“Negative. Qualified yes. Don’t worry, we will make way for traffic. Over.”

“Copy that. Things here are an ‘effin mess. The storm blew about every transformer and started hundreds, perhaps thousands, too many fires to count. Except for a few hot spots they’ve since burned out. Half of Meeker is in ruins, and most of the other half is heavily damaged. I’m okay. Over.

“Oh, my God! That is awful. Mable, what happened? Over.”

“Liberty, a better question would be, ‘What didn’t happen?’ Almost everything is busted, broken, or ashes. Aside from a few go-karts and ATVs, about the only working transportation I’ve seen, are mostly older vehicles, trucks, and cars from the sixties or before. The sheriff’s department is commandeering anything still running. Over.”

“That is bad. Over.”

“Yes, Liberty, it is bad and getting worse. FEMA told us Air Force One went down in a midair collision while making an emergency landing at Andrews. The president is dead, and so are the congressional leaders who were with him...” Mable’s transmission died in a garble of nonsense as interference smothered her words

“Mable, Say again, you are breaking up. Over.”

Static answered.

“Hayi suka! The Gods of chaos will not let us talk,” Jennifer said as she glared at the studio speaker.

She remained silent for several more seconds before silencing the blizzard of white noise with an angry slap of her hand.

“We’ll try again at the top of the hour. Sky, can you brew a fresh pot?” Sheila handed me her empty coffee cup. It was going to be a long night.

“Well, that explains the hazy skies and gorgeous sunsets,” Sheila said as she poured a shot of brandy into her half-full coffee mug.

“What explains what?” I looked around as I searched the Technicolor sky for the source of her speculation.

“It’s all the smoke from burning cities. Got a light?” Sheila reached her arm across the cafe’ style table and plucked my cigarettes from my breast pocket.

“So far, every contact we’ve made in the last three days, all two-hundred plus, have told us pretty much the same story. The fire in the sky was followed by fire on the ground.” She held the flame to the tip of her cigarette.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like out there,” she shivered as she adjusted her gray V-neck Sweater to cover her shoulders. Cashmere was as practical as it is stylish, soft, and about three times as warm as wool, it suited her.

“Millions, probably billions, of families homeless, hungry, and broke. Money’s no good unless you got someone willing to take it.”

“Please hold me for a moment, I don’t want to be alone,” the Leader said as she slipped her arms around my waist and drew me close to her side.

She leaned into me as I braced myself against the railing. Despite the warmth of the evening, I trembled as I hugged her body to mine.

Together in silence, we stood as the color drained from the day and night flooded the valley with shadows and twinkling fireflies searching for lovers in a mating ritual as old as time.

“The poor children. No food. No electricity. No place to live. It’s going to be a long winter,” she sniffed as she tapped the gray ash from the glowing end.

“It’s going to be a long forever,” I replied as I kissed the tears leaking from her closed eyes.