Chapter 5

The Last Day
10:59:56 p.m.

Norman Jacobs ‘Stormin’ Norman to his friends and co-workers—hurrying home from a long, tiring shift at the Kraft Foods Refrigerated Warehouse in North Bethlehem, clipped a power pole on Miller Circle North. Norman loved overtime, and an extra shift on Christmas Eve had seemed like a miracle, even if it made him miss Christmas Eve with his family.

He knew that his mother would be staring at her watch, clicking her tongue and wagging her head in frustration, waiting for her oldest boy to show up for the traditional late-night family Christmas Eve dinner.

Norman could taste her homemade bread pudding and feel her special once-a-year icing sliding down his throat, when a patch of snow-covered ice caused his 2004 Chevy Trail Blazer to drift off onto the shoulder, sliding impossibly towards the power pole on the right, into the ditch. Though he had traction control, the SUV never had a chance: ice is harder to please than dry pavement.

Try as he might to avoid the crash, the pole grew larger, until he felt and then heard the meeting of old wood and new steel. Careening off the pole, Norman’s suddenly worthless SUV plowed a long ugly furrow in the deepening powder.

Several thoughts fled across his mind as the car slewed to a stop. He was fine! No pain! No fuzziness! He was fine, just shocked and frustrated. Though the pole snapped, the lines stayed up, so Norman was in no immediate danger of electrocution. The snow, plowed perfectly by Norman’s ruined front bumper, was deep and surrounded his vehicle. He knew driving out was not an option.

His engine screamed in its death throes. Anti-freeze shot forward, transmission fluid gushed down, and engine oil dripped rapidly, all at once. Several shades of smoke rose from the battered front end, and Norman knew the Blazer would never run again. Even if he could dig it out, he was struck, and it was Christmas Eve.

Because the power company had automatic rerouting, the moment power was interrupted emergency power came online. The electrical transmission station automatically sent electricity immediately from the other direction, drawing from several backup sources, all before the technicians on duty that Christmas Eve even knew there had been a service interruption. After a blink-out and restart, power was restored within seconds. Other than clocks and other electronic devices blinking and requiring resets, people paid very little attention. The power failure did cause one clock to blink 12:00 at The Last Chance as a last minute warning.

Norman waited until an over-officious police officer finally completed his report, and then caught a ride home with a friend from work, grateful that several of his co-workers had recognized the Blazer and stopped to offer assistance.

When he eventually arrived at his anxious mother’s home, all was forgiven after he had shared all the gory details. He tried to get in the spirit and enjoy Christmas as normally as possible. A new car would have to wait, because Mom’s bread pudding couldn’t.