Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

“Just over $2 million. I’ve plugged the address into navigation. It says we are forty minutes away. I bet you can’t make it there in twenty,” I say as I hand the phone back to Dad.

“You’re on,” he says, as we accelerate to an almost uncomfortable speed.

It took us twenty-seven minutes to get to the house. Dad was almost reckless on the highway but had no choice other than to slow down on the back roads. Now we have another unforeseen problem: a gate.

Dad hops out of the Escalade and gives the gate a push. It doesn’t move. Not even an inch. He examines the gate, presumably for a latch or release of some kind, but has no luck. A last shove on the gate and he is done with it.

“Dad! We can smash through it with the car. No one will care.” Liam needs some excitement and his words come out so fast we can barely understand him.

“Sorry, Liam. Not this time.” Dad already has the car in drive and we are continuing down the street. “I don’t want to risk damaging the car in any way. Transferring our stuff to another vehicle will take too much time.”

I see on the navigation screen that the street ends in a cul-de-sac. Dad must be assuming that there is a house or houses around it. As we get closer, his hunch proves correct. There are 4 houses, all big and all beautiful.

“This looks like it was a pretty nice neighborhood,” Grace says as we slowly pull up to the circle.

“Technically, it still
is
a pretty nice neighborhood,” I say, somewhat wishing I had kept that as inner monologue. “I guess what I mean is that this doesn’t look any different now than it did last week before all the people here died. If it was nice then, it’s still nice now. If we come back in a few weeks and the grass and plantings are all overgrown, then the past tense would be appropriate.”

No one is interested in my semantics. Sometimes Grace will clue me in that correcting people is not the best tactic for making friends, but, given that I corrected her, she doesn’t speak up now.

“I suppose that’s a debate, whether a neighborhood is defined by the people or the properties. That would have been interesting, emphasis on the past tense there. We don’t seem to be in a position where debating relatively trivial things warrants a lot of brainpower. Emphasis on the present tense.” Sofie is sticking up for Grace and making a good argument on her behalf.

Dad has parked the car in the second driveway around the cul-de-sac. I’m not sure what he’s looking at, but he waits for a few minutes before he turns the engine off and moves his hand to the door.

“Here’s the deal. No guns, boys. I want everyone to go to the front door of a different house. Check the door. If it is unlocked, open it. If it’s not, look around for a hidden key. If you see or hear a person, dog, cat, anything, you haul ass back to the Escalade. Got it?” Dad is still looking around, but I can’t figure at what.

“Sofie and Grace, you two stick together. Meet back here when you are done,” he says, and Dad is out the door.

Dad is on his way to the furthest house. Sofie and Grace are walking up to the house where we are parked. We should have worked out who goes to which house in the car. I want to tell Liam that he should go to the house between Dad and Grace. I have this need to direct him and try and control him. But instead of saying anything, I start walking to the outside house.

In classic fashion, the basketball hoop distracts Liam. He takes a couple of shots and dribbles a little before Dad’s whistle snaps him awake. Then he heads on his way to the house between Dad and Grace.

My house is locked tight. There is no key to be found but the ADT security sticker is prominently displayed. I wonder if we need to worry about this. If I were the government looking for survivors, I would certainly tap into the ADT security network. It’s odd to be thinking about breaking into a house and not be worried about getting in trouble. I am still worried. Maybe breaking and entering will always be the wrong thing to do?

We all meet back at the Escalade. Naturally Liam is the last one to get there. “Locked, no key.” comes the report from Sofie.

“Mine too,” I say.

“Same here,” says Dad.

“Mine was locked, but I found a key.” Liam is all smiles as if he did something to win this lottery.

“Were there any animals or strange noises inside?” Grace asks. I think she is hoping to find a cat or a parakeet or something.

“I didn’t open the door. Dad only said to see if there was a key.” Liam is looking puzzled. Even when he follows directions to the letter, he seems to find a way to have people annoyed with him.

“Seriously, Liam?” This can’t surprise dad but he’s looking at Liam in shock. Liam’s hands are up in the air as if to say,
“What did I do?”

“Seamus, go see if the key unlocks the door. Liam, Grace and Sofie, get anything you need for the night. We’re staying here even if I have to use my key.” The rock in his hand and the line out of a cheesy movie eventually have us all laughing. Except Dad doesn’t laugh; apparently, he was serious.

The key works, of course. I step into the large foyer with a long, curving staircase to the second floor. The tile floor is clean and bright. On the left is a library/den/office—I’m not sure what you would call it. The room has floor to ceiling bookshelves, four large comfortable-looking chairs, and no obvious television screen or monitors. It looks as though no one has ever sat in that room, let alone recently. What a waste of resources to have a room full of stuff just for show.

On the right is a dining room. There is a long table that could seat fourteen. A gaudy reproduction sideboard completes the furniture in the room that I’m sure was called “elegant” or “stunning” by the homeowners’ friends. Though I’m guessing they had more acquaintances, colleagues or associates. I can’t imagine people who are this phony possibly having true friends.

I’m about to go straight where there is a hallway under the staircase when I feel a hand on my shoulder. My blood freezes and my legs become like cement. I don’t know whether to run, callout or turn and face whoever it is. But I do nothing.

“Sorry to startle you, Seamus,” Dad says as he walks past me with the gun in his hand. “Let me check the place out before we all go in. You wait here for the others. Same rules apply; if you hear anything out of the ordinary, haul ass back to the Escalade. Be ready to drive and get as far away as you can if anything comes out of the house other than me.”

I didn’t even realize he was whispering. My fear must have had all my sense at their peak performance. I’m not sure why Dad is suddenly being so clandestine. If there were a person or thing here, it would likely have attacked when the door opened. He’s walking quietly but with purpose, doing his best impersonation of a SWAT team clearing a house.

Grace, Sofie and Liam arrive at the door and are annoyed with me for telling them to wait. But Dad is back at the foot of the stairs rather quickly. We don’t have to argue for long, which is a relief. I am mentally exhausted from doing nothing.

“Sorry for weirding out there a little.” Dad’s voice is back to a normal level. “The first floor looks safe. Why don’t you guys head back to the kitchen and living room area and investigate? I’m going to check the upstairs quickly, and I’ll be down soon.”

I don’t understand why he can’t communicate with us. He is worried about something. It’s obvious to me. Grace can probably tell that something is up but can’t figure out who or what is out of whack. Liam is clueless, but I think Sofie can tell Dad’s got something and won’t let it go.

The rear of the house is gorgeous and gives a totally different impression of the people that lived here. It is an open floor plan with a large great room space on the left and a high-end but comfortable-looking cook’s kitchen on the right. The great room has a big fireplace that looks well-used and the overstuffed couches and chairs look worn, comfortable and inviting. I can imagine them watching football games in the fall with family and friends while they cook and eat comfort food in the kitchen.

The back wall of the house is all windows. No, those look like they are actually doors. They open onto a patio that surrounds a pool and hot tub complex that is made for entertaining. Liam is already out there checking the water. Grace, Sofie and I head outside to join him.

Sneakers and socks are coming off fast, but it doesn’t feel right. This isn’t our house and we don’t have permission. In the front of the house, I didn’t care about these people. They were fake, mannequins. It didn’t matter what we did here. Now that I’ve seen where they lived, the pictures on the wall, the comfortable relaxed atmosphere, I know they were a family, just like us. I’m thinking we should say a few words before anyone does a cannonball.

But I’m not the person for feelings. Why isn’t Grace freaking about this? I can’t even think of what I would say about these strangers. Nor can I muster the energy to stop the others from unwinding. We’re working with a new norm, which is fine with me since I was never overly comfortable with the old norm. Maybe the others feel it, too. The energy has come way down and the expected progression to cannon balls and splashing fun hasn’t happened. Now it seems like we’ve been sitting in silence for too long.

Dad comes walking out to the patio and is clearly agitated. “The pool looks really nice guys, but did anyone check for food and water? Potable water?” Now he is looking intently at each of us.

“I hate to be an ogre, but until we settle down somewhere, food and water need to be our top priority every time we stop for the night.” Dad breaks the momentary silence. “Sofie and Grace, please go to the kitchen and inventory the food and water. See if there is anything in the freezer that we can eat tonight. If you find anything rotten or moldy, put it in a bag and we’ll move it to the garage.”

Everyone is slow to move. Dad is right, but now we all feel like 10 year olds who are in trouble for leaving our dirty clothes on the floor. The parent-child dynamic is back. Maybe this is a drawback of spending the night in a “family home.”

“Liam, go see if you can work the entertainment system and if they have a library of DVDs or something so we can relax tonight.” Dad is giving out busy-work so we don’t fight or argue.

“Seamus, come with me. We need to tour the outside of the house.” Dad’s got a flashlight in the hand that previously held the gun. He’s walking quickly towards the door in the back wall surrounding the patio. I take a breath to protest, but before I can speak, Dad starts talking: “Specifically I want you to look for a generator. If we lose power tonight, I want to make sure we can get it back, even if the grid is down.”

Maybe thinking like a child has me feeling like a child. Dad clearly has some thoughts on what needs to happen to keep us safe and get everyone to California. Coaching myself not to feel chastised every time Dad raises a complaint will be tough. But I can do it. After all, I am not a mental midget.

A tour of the “perimeter,” as Dad calls it, yields no generator. Dad points out a bush and a rock near the wall that could be used for a boost to get over the top. They bother him, but not nearly as much as not finding a generator. I hope he doesn’t ask us to pack up so we can leave.

“Did you check the basement?” I ask him before the thought has even registered in my own head.

“Great idea, let’s go.” Dad is off.

The basement is neat and clean and well-organized. In what could only be called the “Systems Room” is a furnace and the hot water storage. There is also a pool heater unit and, there in the corner, is a generator. Everything runs off a central pipeline that is likely natural gas. I quickly inspect the generator and see that it is wired into the house’s breaker panel and drives the breakers for the heat and water, as well as lights and outlets in the kitchen and great room. It’s nice to see a breaker panel that is neat and well-labeled. I read the short instruction sheet on top and am confident that even Liam could turn on the generator in a matter of minutes if needed.

I can see and almost feel Dad’s whole body relax. It has been a long day for him, but I think he is finally comfortable that we are safe and sound for the night. This is just the first day. I’m not sure if things will get easier or harder as we approach California, but I know Dad won’t be able to maintain this level of functional-overstress for more than a few days.

When we get back upstairs, the party is in full swing. Music is playing in the kitchen, Grace is cooking something that smells amazing, and Sofie has opened a bottle of wine. Dad doesn’t even ask who opened it or why; he just pours a big glass and heads out to the patio. Liam is doing cannonballs, going from pool to hot tub and back. Steam is being blown off in a big way. I stay in the kitchen and provide Grace a limited level of assistance.

I desperately want to ask where Sofie is. But Grace and I have been a team for so long, I need to maintain our bond. I need to make sure she knows that I am there for her. She and I are a part of each other’s normal.

“You can go see Sofie if you want. She’s in the hot tub.” Grace is grinning knowingly and holding back her laugh.

“I’m good, thanks for offering.” I smile back, and we start plating the meal.

Dad went to bed right after dinner. He’s always been the “early to bed, early to rise” kind of person. We were admonished not to stay up too late. While Dad went upstairs to a bedroom, we all dozed together in the great room. But now it’s 5 a.m. and I am wishing I had gone to find a bed.

After another thirty minutes of restless rest, I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going to get up and make a pot of coffee.

I should have known that Dad would already be awake. No complaints though; this way I don’t have to make coffee. It’s been a tough transition to black coffee now that we have no dairy products. I rummage through the cupboards looking for a non-dairy creamer to take the edge off, but no luck. I guess I’ll have to grow some hair on my chest and deal.

Dad is sitting out by the pool and I pull up a chair next to him. Up through fourth grade, I would come downstairs in the morning and climb into Dad’s lap and snuggle with him before school. I held onto that last little-boy act as long as could. It was safe and warm and comfortable and I want to climb onto his lap now. If I tried it today he would probably slap me and ask, “What the hell is wrong with you?” But it’s because I’m 5’10” and 175 pounds, not because he doesn’t want to snuggle.

“Beautiful sunrise.” I finally break the silence.

“Well, it would be. If that were the east.” Dad is defeated. He has no energy and the morning bounce he used to have is buried somewhere underneath a heavy wet blanket of worry.

After a few minutes, I’m still puzzled. “Sorry Dad, but what does that mean?”

“Sunrise, which will be around 7 a.m. at this time of year, comes from the east. It’s a little after 5:30, and that light is coming from the west. That means something other than the sun is creating that beautiful glow.” There is no pride or satisfaction in his explanation.

Could this be it? The government is sweeping the continent for survivors? The armed forces are moving methodically from the West coast to the East coast, and they aren’t even stopping at night? That seems impractical. I have to start thinking smarter.

“Do you think something is scanning the planet?” I hate it when ideas like aliens take over my thoughts and make me speak. “Or maybe there was an explosion?” At least that seems a little more plausible.

“Ha-ha, aliens scanning the planet,” Dad gives his nervous laugh. “Probably more along the lines of a wildfire.”

It’s funny that so many things burn but fire does not spontaneously occur in nature. With the exception of lightning strikes and volcanoes, people are usually needed to start a fire. The thing is that there are really no more people, left so how did this fire start? I suppose I have time to think about the different ways a fire could start while we drive.

“Are you going to shower this morning or just hop in the pool to freshen up?” Even in his glum state, Dad will be proud of me for being ready to move forward.

“Seamus, I don’t know if I can do this.” Dad is staring into the bottom of his empty coffee cup. “I am physically and mentally exhausted. It’s like we are hit with one thing after another. I just want someone else to absorb a punch.”

“Sofie and I can take shifts,” I start before I am cut off with a sad, but surprised stare.

“You really haven’t pieced it together?” He’s searching my face for a hint of realization. “That wildfire in the west is blocking our path to California. And as far as I can tell, it is heading this way fast. Driving is easy. Surviving this fire may be impossible.”

“What if we leave in five minutes? We can drive around it.” But he must have already thought about that and ruled it out.

“The only way south from here are back roads and minor highways. There is no way we could move fast enough to get around it.” Dad is looking at a map only he can see and all the roads are dead ends.

“Then lets go north.” I’m not thinking, just reacting.

“The lake is to the north. I’m not comfortable putting the five of us out there on a boat for who-knows-how-long with who-knows-what kind of weather coming. Seamus, I have thought about everything imaginable to get us out of here, and I’m blank.” He’s only been at it for fifteen minutes; how could he have given up so easily?

The silence is killing me. I want to brainstorm solutions with him, but he’s not in the mood. In the background, I hear Sofie and Grace in the kitchen getting coffee. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel like there is a plan in the back of my mind and I need Grace to snap Dad out of his funk. Liam is still asleep, but that is not a surprise.

“Want more coffee?” I ask, getting up.

“Thanks.” Dad slowly hands me his cup.

I meet the girls at the door and motion them back into the house.

“We have a big problem coming and a medium problem sitting on the pool deck,” I tell them as we get over to the coffee maker. Both girls look out at Dad with an odd head tilt.

“I’m going to go work on solving the big problem. I need you to go work on Dad,” I continue as they stare. “I need you to go out there and be sweet little Gracie. Dad needs to remember that he’s not carting a bunch of junk across the country; he’s taking care of his kids.”

“What does that mean?” Grace is great at following directions, except when she isn’t clear on why she should follow them. This is what I am counting on.

“Just do it for me, please? I need him to remember how much he cares about us.” That may have been over-the-top, but it should do the trick.

“Come with us then. I don’t get what’s happening and I want you to be there in case I need something explained.” She is shuffling towards the patio and knows that I won’t refuse to be there for her.

“Daddy, Seamus is worried about you and thinks you don’t remember how much you care about us.” Grace is pouty and sad.

I counted on this reaction from her. In fact, I could have written that down before she spoke and gotten it exactly right. Grace doesn’t like deception, even when it is well-intentioned.

“What!? I care about you kids more than anything in the world.” His spark isn’t back, but maybe this small boost of adrenaline will help end his pity party.

“Sorry if I misunderstood our conversation, Dad.” I need to shift gears and get things moving. “I’m going down to the basement to wire the generator to the irrigation system. I’m hoping that if we get enough water around and on us we can make it through that fake sunrise.”

The plan in the back of my mind wasn’t really much of a plan, more of an understanding of all the options that are off the table. Going around the fire is out based on speed and Lake Erie. Going over it is out based on none of us knowing how to fly. That leaves “sit tight and ride out the maelstrom.” If Dad had even suggested we sit tight, I probably would have lost it on him.

The girls have puzzled looks on their faces, but I see a ray of hope in Dad’s eye.

“I like the way you’re thinking. Get it done and then go to the other three houses and do the same. Smash windows or whatever it takes to get in. Grace, go wake Liam. I’ll explain everything in a minute.” Dad is back. We’re working on a level I never expected; it’s intuitive. He can tell what I’m thinking and trying to accomplish. I know what parts he needs me to get done. I’m fascinated that impending death has us working more closely together than ever.

I’m off. No longer do I feel the need to hear and be involved in every second of planning. I trust that the others will execute their tasks. I need to execute mine.

My estimation is that it will take about fifteen minutes to move the breakers on the panel. Assuming all four houses in the cul-de-sac have generators, moving breakers at every house will take one hour to accomplish. I enjoy estimating how long it will take me to do certain tasks. I enjoy it even more when I’m right.

Standing in front of the breaker panel, it dawns on me that my father taught me to turn off power, replace a circuit breaker and even add a new circuit when I was 10. For two years, he required that I have him watch while I made changes to ours at home. By the time I was twelve, he let me make changes by myself. His only rule was that I had to be able to put things back the way they were after every change.

Flipping the power back on, I glance at my watch. Ten minutes, not bad. I’m going to leave the faceplate off. It’s cosmetic anyway, and I don’t have the time.

As I run up the stairs and out of the house, I realize that I did not include going between houses and breaking into them in my time estimate. Hopefully I can move each panel in ten minutes and use the extra five minutes between houses. The hammer I grabbed from the house we have taken over should help with getting into the other houses.

Smashing the hammer through the window feels really good. I didn’t realize I had this aggression stored up. The fluidity between physical exertion and thoughtful action is rare to me. I like the effect it’s having. Traditionally most of my thinking has occurred on the stool in my lab or sitting in the old recliner in front of the fire. Dad used to tell me that when I was stuck on something, getting out and moving around would shake loose the answer. I thought he was crazy, but maybe he was just using terms that don’t suit me. Or maybe I didn’t want to admit the old man might be right.

This house is laid out differently than next door. Finding the basement is still relatively easy. As I unscrew the faceplate of the breaker panel, I read down the labels to find the circuit for the irrigation system. Unlike the last house, it’s labeled “sprinkler,” which I get, but it means a different electrician wired this house.

The panel cover is off and I have eyes on the right circuit breaker. Oh shit, it’s tripped! I’m actually not big on swearing, but this seems like a fair time to start.

Why is it tripped? Should I move it and then turn it back on or should I turn it back on first and see if a short trips it? Pre-apocalypse this would have been a long ordeal. Consultation with Dad, listing the possible reasons for the breaker to be tripped, an online search about wiring for irrigation systems, and on and on it would have gone. Today I just flip the breaker. It doesn’t pop, which is good news. I look around the basement and find a Rain Bird Irrigation control center. Above it is a valve with a tag hanging from it. The handwritten tag reads “Open before activating sprinklers,” but the valve is closed. It’s October in Ohio. They freeze just like we do in New Hampshire. I don’t even know if Dad has done it at home, but here they have already blown out and shut down the irrigation system. I need to make sure I get the system back online before I move any of the wiring. My time estimate is now out the window.

I don’t like winging it, but that’s what I’ve had to do with the irrigation system. The valve is open and I have turned the timer to “All Zones Manual On.” I can hear water rushing through the pipes, but I have to go up to the yard and confirm that water is coming out of sprinkler heads.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush up from the basement. I rush through the front door to find my world in disarray. A Mercedes C-Class backs out from the garage of “our house”. I see Dad at the wheel and he leaves an inch of rubber on the road before the car rockets off down the street. Liam is standing in the front yard with a can of gasoline and pouring it out on the grass. Not far from him I see a plumber’s propane torch lying on its side. None of this makes any sense. How long was I in the basement?

“Liam! What the hell are you doing? Pretty soon we are going to have more fire than we can handle.” I swore again and I’m afraid I could get use to it.

“I’m making a reverse fire thing.” Liam is looking at me like I am the one doing something crazy.

“I have no idea what a reverse fire thing is. You’re such an idiot, are you trying to help us live or help us die?” The sprinklers are sputtering to life, but I have to deal with my brother.

“Remember we saw that thing about forest fires on TV and they dug a trench and burned everything before the fire got there?” He’s making digging motions with his hands as if the digging was the key takeaway.

“It’s called a backfire and if you can’t remember the name, how can you possibly remember how to execute it safely, not to mention correctly?” My exasperation is lowering now that I know his intent. If we burn all the fuel around the cul-de-sac, the fire may spare us as it looks for more to burn.

“Seamus, I’m not an idiot. Just because I’m different from you doesn’t make me worthless. I don’t remember names or how to calculate how much gas I need to burn up a yard. But I get how it’s supposed to work and I know I can do it.” Liam is defensive, but he’s never stated his case this calmly and clearly before.

“Liam, that’s fine, I’m not saying you’re worthless. But you can’t screw this up, it’s our lives at stake!” I don’t have much of a choice. It’s a good idea, but I don’t have time to do it and get all the irrigation systems going.

“Seamus, Mom always said that we fight because we’re brothers and that when we grow up we’ll get along great and know how to trust each other. I think it’s time we grow up. You need to trust me.” He leaves it at that and goes back to work.

I have no basis for trusting him. There are four iPods, two cell phones, a tablet, and countless video games, shoes, hats and more that he has lost or forgotten. There is not a negative or malicious bone in his body; Liam is genuinely a good person. But trusting him with our lives is a tough pill to swallow.

With that, I am off to the basement to move the irrigation breaker to the generator slot on the panel. If I can get this one and the next two houses done quickly, I can help Liam with the backfire.