The Benefactor Page 4

  Eventually, Zeke maneuvered Meagan under one of many mistletoe plants hanging from sconces around the living room. “All things considered!” he said. He kissed her warm lips softly. “I didn’t want to do that, but I’m a stickler for customs and traditions.”

  “As long as that’s the case,” Meagan said. “I have a traditional streak myself! By the way, I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

  Zeke smiled, “So do you kiss before the first date?”

  “I won’t slap you because I think you’re funny. That comment was cute. I think your mind is very flexible. Am I right, Zeke?”

  “I have heard that before, but never from anyone so beautiful. Brains and beauty — and determination. I am impressed!”

  “That’s sweet, Zeke! I am enjoying this so much …”

  “Come on, spit it out Meagan, I hear a but coming.”

  “I have this sixth sense that something is coming. It’s eerie. I don’t know, maybe it’s that our host is not here. Anyway, my intuition never fails me. Don’t laugh, Zeke!”

  “Meagan, I haven’t known you long enough to tell you that you’re wrong.”

  “And when you’ve known me a long time, you’ll never tell me I’m wrong, Zeke!”

  Zeke wondered whether he was under a spell. That statement seemed boastful, and normally it would repulse him. For some reason, it sounded like an honest self-assessment. He thought maybe he just might need to get out more.

  The music switched to Nat King Cole’s soft, sweet voice singing “The Very Thought of You,” Zeke returned with two Coca Colas. “To a voice smooth as velvet!” Zeke said. He and Meagan toasted each other with the dull thud of aluminum cans colliding.

  When the sound system brought up Los del Rio performing “La Macarena,” a conga line formed and snaked through the great living room. It was a great time, whether Denton was there or not. Zeke reluctantly joined in on what he judged was group insanity. He rationalized the party silliness to himself as what people do at parties.

  “That was fun! Such a happy tune, ‘The Macarena,’” Meagan said wistfully.

  “Fun dance, yes; Macarena, no! Little known fact: The lyrics describe a girl named Macarena, who cheats on her boyfriend in the army. She has two other lovers.” Seeing Meagan’s spirit deflate, he tried to walk back his insight. “But, all in all, it’s the melody and what it means to you, yes?”

  “I did not know that, about the sad part. It was fun dancing to it anyway.” Meagan recovered some.

  “I guess it’s like ‘Puff the Magic Dragon,’” Zeke offered.

  “I’ve got you on that one. I think you’re implying that ‘Puff’ is about marijuana. I researched ‘Puff.’ It is what it seems to be, a song about the loss of childhood innocence,” Meagan said competitively.

  “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, eh? Well, there you go, Dr. Freud. I think I just lost some of my jadedness. I have another one for you, Meagan. What is the meaning of ‘Amapola?’ Andrea Bocelli made that song famous.

  Meagan: “I’m going with a girl’s name.”

  “No, it means poppy in Spanish.”

  Meagan smiled, “I did not know that.” She squinted at Zeke. “So, Mr. Music, what is the history of ‘Edelweiss?’”

  “That’s easy. It’s a traditional German folk song and means Christmas tree.”

  “Got you on that one, Zeke. It was composed by Rodgers and Hammerstein in 1959 for Sound of Music. Edelweiss is a white wildflower, symbolic of Austria in the play.”

  “Again with a flower! Thanks for setting me straight, Meagan. On that happy note, it’s approaching midnight. I’m going to go light off the fire pit outside on the deck. Overlooking the Valley, we should be able to see some of the fireworks go off as we bring in the new year. Can I get you anything before I head off?” Zeke furrowed his brow.

  “Zeke, I’m coming with you. I think we’ll be okay without our coats, especially with a fire.”

  “You are a pleasant surprise. You’re a real Montana-type girl!”

  “I hope that’s a compliment,” Meagan said. It was almost as a question.

  “It is. Not a lot of ladies who’d volunteer to go out in the cold when there’s a cozy fire inside.”

  “I have a lot more surprises for you, Zeke,” Meagan smiled. “Strap in!”

  *****

  Outside, Brenda Lee’s voice belted out “End of the World” as if from nowhere. The sound actually came from Niles speakers, appearing as natural granite rocks on the edges of the deck.

  As the fire crackled in front of the ten guests, Meagan nestled under Zeke’s arm. “I love this song!”

  Zeke tightened his arm around her, “You have good taste.” He kissed her again. “Very good taste!” He laughed with her. He was captivated with her, admiring a centimeter-long butterfly birthmark on her left cheekbone for the first time. It proclaimed her beauty.

  Everyone charged their champagne flutes and edged around the catwalk at the front of the mansion. They wanted to see the crescendo of midnight fireworks in the valley. Brock, now inching past buzzed, let it be known he would do the official countdown with his $100,000 Swiss watch: “10 - 9 - …” He spilled his drink and cursed. A few boos and hisses ensued. They were cut short at exactly midnight when the music abruptly stopped. Lights inside the house went off. The whole valley floor went dark, except for the fireworks.

  Jed said loudly, “What the hell? Happy New Year!”

  Everyone laughed, toasted, and kissed a partner.

  Jed explained, “This is the Bitterroot. We have power failures all the time. It’s not the power company’s fault. In the woods, trees fall on lines. Animals chew on cables. Cars hit power-line poles. Takes a bit of time for the power company to respond. It’s just good to be with such great company in this great upcoming new year!” He raised a beer in his left hand.

  “Here, here!” was the echoing toast.

  The ten sat around the fire pit for several rounds of champagne. Then there were two enormous flashes of red-orange in the direction of the highway three miles away.

  More than one of the celebrators voiced, “Did you see that?” Everyone stood in awe of something out of the ordinary. The location of the flashes became steady flames. Meanwhile, the fireworks continued to go off throughout the darkened valley: sky rockets, bottle rockets, helicopters, spinners, and sparklers.

  Citizen-sailor John shouted, “Hey, folks. Someone down at the fire may be in trouble. What say we all go help?”

  Meagan affirmed that, “Let’s get in our cars and trucks and head down there!”

  “Sondra, you drive, okay?” Zeke implied what most were thinking: Brock was in no condition to drive.

  Sondra: “I think I could have figured that out myself! I'm not just a pretty face. Remember, I have a chemical engineering degree.” She huffed toward the Tesla.

  I’m glad I didn’t marry that, Zeke thought to himself.

  Meagan gently punched Zeke in the back about Sondra.

  Zeke whispered, “You can tell she still loves me.”

  “You’re lucky you’re with me!” Meagan softly said with assuredness.

  They could see their way to the vehicles with the light from the fire pit and moonlight.

  Lee was the first to try to start his vehicle. “Won’t start! Battery must be dead,” he told his wife.” Every other couple had a similar experience.

  John, the nuclear engineer, blurted out, “We’ve been hit!”

  *****

  In Idaho, Cody’s concert was about to hit its crescendo at midnight. His band’s music stopped suddenly when all the lights went out and the sound system died. The hush that fell over the audience had a trace of panic. Thousands of fans tried to turn on their cell phone lights to no avail. In seconds, Cody started singing “You Light Up My Life,” with only the acoustic guitars accompanying him. Without microphones and amplifiers, his band’s limited instruments still quieted the beginning swell of fear. At first there was quiet to hear the music, th
en a rolling cheer resounded from the arena: “Cody! Cody! Cody!”

  Cody’s rapport with the crowd was apparent. With an usher’s flashlight illuminating him, he shouted out, “Better late than never!” The crowd cheered his spontaneity. He led the band in performing the next song, “Auld Lang Syne.” The group followed with “After Midnight.” The crowd was loving it. And so it went for a half hour. Cody closed with “Starts with Goodbye.”

  By then, the concert organizers had more ushers with flashlights ready to get the calmed crowd out of the arena. Cody had stilled the madding crowd. Cody was the man of the hour, but soon forgotten. The happy crowd walked into darkness aided by some moonlight. Drivers found cars that wouldn’t start. Everyone was perplexed at the total blackout. The biggest puzzle was that cell phones wouldn’t even turn on. Shouldn’t the smartphone lights at least work?

  Escorted by his two private security men, Cody stepped into his custom RV. One of the security detail gave up his flashlight to Cody. Normally, someone would have warmed up the RV for him. He tried starting it himself. He tried again. He tried his cell phone. Nothing worked, except his flashlight. It was a great night anyway. He and his band had performed well.

  Completely exhausted, the perfectly-proportioned, muscular singer climbed into his king-size bed. His phenomenal memory served up the Carrington event. In the fall of 1859, the namesake British astronomer observed an outsized explosion on the sun. He didn’t look directly at the sun, but rather projected it onto a screen. Five minutes after the solar anomaly, tropical residents from the Caribbean to the Hawaiian Islands saw colorful auroras in the sky, bright enough to allow reading in darkness. The auroras induced electrical currents strong enough to affect telegraph lines. Papers near telegraph equipment were set afire. Telegraph operators experienced shocks. Disconnected from batteries, some telegraphs were still able to transmit. So much for history, he thought.

  Cody covered himself with three layers of wool blankets, topped with a warm comforter. Well read, he considered other possibilities. He wondered whether some terrorist group had set off a dreaded EMP (electromagnetic pulse). He puzzled over the likelihood of a limited nuclear war taking down the grid. Or, he looped back, was this the killshot, the mega flare from the sun — bigger than the 1859 one — that remote viewer Major Ed Dames had predicted? Was this an extinction event?

  January 1

  Zeke rose at first light. He remembered an awful dream about being caught up in the plot of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. He had the vague sense of something unusual happening last night. He saw the connection. Before he conjured up details, he became aware of spooning the naked person beside him. She sat up. He smiled at his stretching bedmate, “Some first date!”

  “I’ll say!” Meagan replied. “Should I add I told you so?”

  “You should. Very impressive. My granddad used to say, ‘When you nail it, take a bow, because it won’t happen that often.’” Meagan’s total self-assurance would have been off-putting to me if it came from anyone else, Zeke thought. The Italian thunderbolt of love at first sight?

  “Zeke, it happens a lot to me. I knew something very extraordinary was going to happen.”

  He kissed her. “Meagan, I’ve exhausted my pre-coffee good humor. Let’s go downstairs to see what’s going on.”

  They found Jed and Karen Salois outside on the redwood deck in the back of house sipping coffee. Flames lapped on the left side of the fire pit grill, helping to warm them. On the right side of the grill was a boiling pot of strong coffee dancing over hot embers. The other three couples had also spent the night at the Denton Ranch.

  “You can take the farmer out of the farm, but you can’t take …, well, you still get up early in the morning,” Jed chuckled. “Good thing several of us had flashlights last night. Of course, any good Montanan carries a survival kit in the car or truck in the winter. Karen has whipped us up some coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast over the fire pit. Electricity is still out. I checked my truck. It still won’t turn over.”

  “Must be the solenoid!” Karen said with mock seriousness. Then she laughed.

  Jed laughed, too. “It’s our inside joke. Lots of solenoids in modern cars, maybe dozens.”

  “And especially funny coming from a rocket scientist!” Meagan quipped.

  “I like it! Good morning, Karen and Jed,” Zeke said, shaking Jed’s hand. “I can really use the coffee. I’m starting to think Meagan is a morning person. She seems on even without coffee.”

  “I’ll take the coffee, thank you!” Meagan said with a smile, as she hugged Karen. “Many thanks for getting the fire pit going. It feels like a cold front is moving in. Tonight will be a three-dog night, for sure, if this keeps up.”

  “It does look like we’ll finally get some much needed snow,” Jed said. “Of course, anyone who’s lived here very long knows you’ll take any precipitation you can get, anytime!”

  Zeke took the hot coffee Karen offered and said, “I have to agree with that. Despite the forest, we’re pretty much high desert. You’ve got to fill the water tables anytime you can. Nothing like a good snowpack. Here I am, preaching to the choir.”

  “Zeke, you know preaching to the choir is underrated. In this day, they’re the only one’s who’ll listen!”

  “How about this place?” Karen asked. “I’ve never seen such luxury. Oh, the ranch house has its rustic accents, but everything is top-of-the-line. Best mattress Jed and I have ever slept on! And the closets — all cedar inside to discourage moths. There isn’t a ceiling in the house under eight feet high. No, Denton didn’t skimp on anything. I love the appliances. If only we had electricity!”

  “If only we had Denton!” Zeke joked. “I really wanted to meet him!”

  “Me, too. The mansion is impressive,” Meagan said. “Zeke has set a high mark here. Wonder where he’ll take me for our second date.” She smiled. Then with mock sternness, she continued, “And don’t you say if there is a second date, Zeke!”

  “I should be so fortunate,” Zeke laughed. Meagan will be a challenge, he thought.

  As the four finished eating, the other six came out on the deck. Meagan and Karen served them at the second redwood picnic table.

  “Hey, John, your words, we’ve been hit, haunted me all night,” Sondra said. “I’m admitting my lack of understanding.” Only Sondra could sound superior admitting a shortcoming, as if it were a badge of courage.

  John looked thoughtful. “I may have been premature. Initially I thought the blackout might just be a normal local outage. What we had was more than that. A grid failure alone would not stop our vehicles from starting. Occum’s razor: The simplest explanation is usually the best. For years experts have warned us about the dangers of an EMP — electromagnetic pulse — assault. It could come from the sun — as an extraordinary solar flare. Or it could be manmade. A resourceful terrorist with a nuclear weapon and an aerial platform could wreak vast destruction on civilization by frying the electric and electronic infrastructure with overwhelming amounts of energy. Any hostile nation with a submarine could launch a nuclear-tipped missile to detonate, say 300 miles above the United States, causing huge blackouts. I might add, I’m not telling you anything that’s classified. We’ve known of this weakness in our system for decades. There just hasn’t been enough public pressure or political will to harden the infrastructure.”

  Anne saw the puzzled looks on several faces. “As a computer geek, let me clarify infrastructure. In this case, it means mostly the electric grid that connects pretty much the whole continental United States in a web. Transformers are in short supply. To replace them would take months, if not years. Besides being locally vulnerable to an EMP, the grid’s interconnection makes it fragile nationally. One area’s failure can pull down another’s, and so on. A house of cards, if you will.”

  Susan squeezed John’s hand. “I don’t get why the cars and trucks don’t start. They’re not on the grid, are they?”

  “Good question,” Lee int
ercepted. “As computer geeks, we’re taught that the enormous energy from an EMP could induce surges in the wires and micro components of electronic equipment that exceed their capacity for current. The EMP could burn out electronic components in critical devices like smartphones and point-of-sale card readers. As John implied, we have some of the symptoms of an EMP attack, but we don’t know for sure what has happened. Classically, you would expect there to be a big flash before the outages.

  “Of course, the sun can also shoot out a big flare. That is a potential source of an EMP that has the effects we are seeing. And, in this case, we probably wouldn’t see a flash.”

  Sondra sipped her coffee, holding the cup with both hands for warmth. “But we did have a flash. We had two of them down toward Highway 93!” Highway 93 was the main north-south artery through the Bitterroot Valley between Hamilton and Missoula.

  John said, “Lee’s right. Sondra, the flash of a nuclear explosion would precede the generation of the EMP, so I don’t think the relatively small flashes we saw caused the EMP. Those flashes by the river also happened after the blackout. Back on foul play, could the fireworks have masked the flash of a distant EMP source?”

  Ashen Brock ignored John, “We’ve all been exposed to the scientific method. How come most of the flashlights worked?” His face said gotcha despite the hangover.

  John tamped down a snappy testosterone-induced reply. “Brock, that’s where I say I may have been premature in saying it was an EMP. We lacked an enormous preceding flash, but we may have missed it with tequila and what-not last night. I hadn’t heard anything in the news about increased solar storms. And I really stay up on the news. Not everything electrical died. It’s possible that the flashlights were somehow shielded …”

  Before Susan could back up her man, Meagan jumped in. “So, Brock, what do you think occurred?” Prideful of taking on doctors, nurse Meagan couldn’t resist her gotcha. Brock shuffled his feet.