Authors: Kevin L Murdock
“I’ll be damned,” I said. Each person who was out there stared blankly as though they had witnessed a dinosaur. “I don’t understand. Are they repairing devices, or is the power coming back?” I had my keys in my pocket and pulled them out. Our SUV was only thirty feet in front of us, and I pushed the unlock button built into the key twice. Nothing happened. Just what I expected, but for a moment, there was a brief hope that somehow it could be possible. The airplane was now out of sight and its sounds were fast fading into the cool air.
Tom was almost to us while he walked over and asked, “Did you guys see that?”
Stacy’s rage was now excitement. Like having flipped a switch, she was no longer beaten down but optimistic again. “I can’t believe it. Do you think it was from around here or the airport in Gaithersburg?”
“No idea,” replied Tom honestly. He was holding a beer can of a different brand than what he normally drank. If he didn’t like the taste, he didn’t show it. He took a big gulp finishing it off and was about to say something when I spoke first.
“I just tried my car remote. If electricity is still out on everything, how did they get that plane up and running?” I was curious and confused, but an answer might give us all something to work toward.
Tom took another look at his beer can as though he couldn’t believe he was drinking that brand and then crushed it in his hand. “I think I have an answer,” he said, a bit slurred. Tom had been drunk every day since the storm. He must be running out of good beer now that he’s pulling out the reserve supply of things he wouldn’t normally touch.
“Oh do tell,” I said anxiously.
He was rubbing his chin with his fingers. It was then I noticed that he was clean shaven for probably the first time since I’ve known him. Tom looked up again at the sky and around, seeing nothing but probably just reaffirming himself in what he was about to say. “Did you notice what kind of plane that was?”
It took me a second, and I was so shocked to see any airplane flying above us that I hadn’t given any consideration to what type it was. “Looked like an old one,” I answered.
“Exactly. That was an old biplane. They used to fly those in World War 1. They still go out and fly them at airshows, and some enthusiasts maintain them.” His hand went to raise the beer to his mouth again, but halfway up, he remembered it was already drained, and he lowered it back down.
“So how is a biplane any different from a jet? They both consume fuel in an engine.” I wasn’t being a smartass, I just didn’t know what I didn’t know and was looking for clarity.
Tom wasn’t the brightest guy on the block. In fact, he barely graduated high school and usually was pretty proud of his ignorance on certain political issues. He knew about landscaping and flowers and thought his opinions on everything else carried as much weight as a PhD in that field. Despite being opinionated, he was accustomed to being dismissed in conversation, but now he realized he was ahead of the curve about the airplane. A big smirk filled his face, which showed more than before since the facial hair was gone. “You ever watch history on TV?” he asked Stacy and me.
“Only when I want to sleep,” answered Stacy. She was beginning to shiver a little bit, the cold biting through her clothes and reaching her thin body. I gave Tom a nod. Maybe it was a man thing after all, I thought.
“Them old planes, they don’t need any batteries,” he explained. “They used to go out and crank them up by hand until they started. Yeah, it’s a gas engine pretty similar to what we have today, but they didn’t turn no key.” Again he was going to sip some beer, and again realized it wasn’t there. A small annoyed look came across his face for a flash of a second and then disappeared. He continued on, “I figure someone out there went out to the airport and cranked up his plane, or else the government is using them to fly messages around since the phones and internet are out.”
It was a brilliant realization, and Tom suddenly impressed me. He may not have the book smarts a polished, educated person possesses, but he was filled with common sense and in this case it was so obvious that only someone like him could spot it for what it was.
“Do you think we could crank a car?” I had no engineering skills, but if an airplane could fly, maybe we could drive around.
“I doubt it,” came the crushing reply. “Probably a car mechanic or engineer could figure out how to build a crank starter in a modern car, but it would take a lot of machinery and time. None of our machinery works so I don’t think we could pull it off. I also don’t think anyone in our neighborhood or around here has an old Model T sitting around that we could crank up either, so it doesn’t change much.”
I nodded in agreement, even though my hopes were dashed as quickly as they had been inflated. Still, in my mind, I knew that someone had a plane out there. That meant more people had planes. The president had said before the storm that they had a plan. I wondered if that was part of it.
“Hey,” Tom said to nobody but himself. “I have an idea. Got a minute to walk down the hill with me, Josh?”
Instinctively I looked at my left wrist to see what time it was and remembered that I wasn’t wearing a watch and promptly hid my left hand in my pants pocket in embarrassment with myself. “I think the town meeting is in a half hour or so. We probably should head down there.”
Stacy was starting to shiver but gave me a look that cried for me to go with him. She then answered for me, “Yes, you all should get going. Here’s your jacket, hun. I’ll be inside with the kids and remembering what we discussed.” Her eyes stared at mine and proved that she would deliver on everything.
“Okay,” I said as I received the jacket from her. I probably looked ridiculous in slacks and sneakers, but they were at least comfy for walking, and many of society’s formalities seemed to be disappearing every day. “What do you have in mind, Tom?”
“First, I have to grab a six pack from the house and pee. Then we can walk down to my truck parked by the entrance. I have an idea that might work.”
Stacy gave me a quick peck and walked back inside. Slowly she closed the door, her eyes focusing on mine and never breaking contact until the door was locked shut. I had no idea what she was feeling right now, but if one of those guys tried to enter the house while I was gone, they would get the same reaction a person finds if they get between a mother bear and her cubs. It wouldn’t be pretty.
As he wanted, we picked up a six pack and began walking over toward his truck. The neighborhood always had strict regulations about commercial vehicles parking in the spots close to the houses. Samantha Levin had always been adamant in the HOA that it looked junky for the neighborhood if large vans and trucks parked in front of homes. She had forced through a regulation that they all park on one road, the main road into the neighborhood that ran north and ended at the forest line. Tom usually was out at first light and home early, so he was able to park close to the entrance and didn’t have to go all the way down the hill as other commercial vehicles that returned home later every night were forced to do. It was a source of pride for him and partly why he started his days so early.
His large, oversized truck had a trailer behind attached at the hitch. There were various mulch and buckets of supplies I didn’t recognize in the bed of the truck. The trailer was fenced around it with a key lock protecting its contents. Inside there was an old sit-down lawnmower, as well as other tools Tom would use every day while working. A push mower was present, a weed whacker, and a couple of others I wasn’t familiar with but looked like they were for hardcore weeds or trimming trees. A couple of large five-gallon gas tanks sat off to the side with a rubber strap holding them in place against the side of the trailer.
“Help me pull this down gently,” said Tom. After he unlocked the back gate, the top of the trailer slid down to the ground and gave a gradual slope from above until it met the pavement. Most days he would drive up and down the ramp on his seated lawnmower, but not this past week.
Tom walked up and plopped himself down on the lawnmower. I was confused, because they operated just like cars. If he intended to drive it, I thought it would be a quick trip down the ramp. He began pushing a priming button on the side of the mower. It was moving gas from the tank to the pistons to prepare for starting. “Watch this,” he said. He stepped off the mower and lifted the seat he had sat on only a moment before. As he reached in, his hands found a cord that could be pulled to start the mower.
He pulled hard on the pull tug.
Chug chug chug chug,
replied the mower. He pulled again and again with the same results. “Damn,” he said aloud. Below the ramp, I idly watched. He pushed the primer button a few more times and then pulled the cord again rapidly three times.
Chug chug chug chug. VRRRRROOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!
It was working. He had started it.
I stood there watching, dumbfounded. Tom placed the seat back down and hopped on it. “That’s worth a beer, don’t you think?” He passed one to me, and before I could catch it, he was already taking a sip out of one of his. The lawnmower was loud. It could probably be heard for a mile just as the airplane had. He put it into gear and drove it down the ramp. As he approached, I moved to the side and popped the top of the beer he had just given me. It foamed up and shot forth all over my hands, but all I could do was watch as Tom drove past the two men on guard duty and went out to Plantation Road and then made a U-turn to drive it back up to the back of the trailer.
He was laughing so hard, he almost shot beer from his nose. Tom had figured out a way to get some mechanical power just as the man in that airplane had. I didn’t know yet what good a lawnmower could do, but it was technology and civilization in our hands again. Briefly, I had forgotten the distress and fatigue that almost overwhelmed me minutes before and let myself reach for hope again.
If the government is out there and is flying planes, and we can operate some kind of machinery here, maybe we just have shot
, I thought.
A few people who had come outside and were walking to the meeting had made a detour to see the noise of what Tom and I were up to. Needless to say, they were smiling and impressed. Tom was already into another beer as he closed up the back of the trailer and relocked it. He tossed his now empty beer can into it and heard the cling of it bouncing off the lawnmower. I had only taken a few sips but figured I should finish the beer quickly and not be seen walking into the meeting with it or else everyone might start to think I’m a drunk like my buddy, Tom. Yes, I was hopeful again as we walked together toward the pool house and sipped my beer. Tom’s face flushed with pride. He probably thought he was a superhero at this moment. At least we had something positive to add to this meeting. I wondered what everyone else would be contributing.
Chapter 10
Regrouping
Mother Earth, synonymous with nature, is often seen as a bastion of ecological harmony. While it is true that in certain geographies, predators and prey develop a symbiotic relationship that gradually results in equilibrium, Earth now was drawing up a new equation. Mother Nature had developed a sudden distaste for humans or pollution or modern civilization. Nature for people has always been anything but balance. Isolated communities often find themselves eating their prey and then starving to death when it disappears. It was too many idiots landing on an isolated island and eating all their Dodo birds. Nature had then taken the awkward turn of people living in air conditioning with sautéed onions mixed with a fresh meat-and-veggie platter. A correction was long overdue and had arrived. It was violent and suppressed. It was erupting the same way a new virus spreads when it enters a host. All those in its path were in trouble.
The time had come for another meeting. By this point of the day, normally I was concerned with how many checking accounts and credit cards my team had sold. Maybe some John Doe hadn’t signed his new acceptance letter, and I was losing sleep over it. Not now. Interest rates and lines of credit were as relevant as a rocket ship to Mars. Maybe one existed somewhere, but my universe had shrunken from billions of stars to a few miles of dirt in any direction. If it was true that medieval people thought crossing a mountain valley was often their trip of a lifetime, I could now relate. Our neighborhood was our bastion, though it didn’t feel secure. Sure we covered a few points of entry and patrolled, but what good would that do for a serious incursion? Was that even possible? I was tired . . . and confused.
Tom was guzzling down another beer. He probably hadn’t felt a sense of satisfaction like this since high school. He once told me about a time he had bagged the runner up to the prom and made a reputation as a cool dude. Too bad he didn’t press on to college and further his life. His days plucking bulbs and weeds were often spent reminiscing about touchdowns and time spent parking the car behind some bushes for privacy in a not-so-public area with various sweethearts. His satisfaction was spreading by osmosis now.
We were next to each other, walking in step. The pool house was our destination, as it felt like a victory trip down the Champs-Elysees. We were locked in step for the most part. His smile ran ear to ear as he took a sip of his drink every time he saw someone else walking who gazed our way. The noise from the lawnmower had made a bigger impression than I realized. In a world without sound but crickets’ chirps, a lawnmower was akin to a nuke going off. The waves were made, and we were riding them. He carried his shotgun on his back and a few beers left in a plastic six pack slumped over his left shoulder. Hat on, clean shaven, he almost looked like a leader of the community. If Houdini could conjure true amazement at escaping impossible situations, Tom had just reawakened the echoes of his spirit and unleashed it on the unsuspecting neighbors.