it.â
âStill rising early every day to bake fresh tortillas?â Shelby asked.
âYes. When theyâre ready, she climbs into the old Buick, which sheâd never driven before Papá was hospitalized, and she takes him breakfast. Mamá claims he would waste away to nothing eating the food at the rehab facility.â
Max was thinking that it helped to speak of something normal, to calm their nerves so they didnât feel like they were flying apart.
Once they reached the door of the small store, Max glanced at Shelby, who was running her thumbnail back and forth across her bottom lip. Bianca continued to clutch her phone in her right hand. Patrickâs eyes scanned left to right and then back again.
âTheyâll be okay,â Patrick assured Bianca. âYour mom will be home by now.â
âBut Papá ââ
âGreen Acres has a generator.â Max reached for the handle of the old screen door. âWith any luck, that will be working.â
Bianca nodded once, and then they pushed their way through the storeâs squeaky door. They had stopped there a few times before, always after hiking at the Bend. The place had not been updated since its construction more than a hundred years before. Faded wood siding greeted customers, and the shelves held a surprising variety of goods. Max enjoyed stopping at the old place. For one thing, it wasnât crowded like the large gas stations on the major roads.
Usually.
Tonight the place was packed with people. Every personâs attention was trained on the man at the front of the roomâSam Collins, the owner of Sad Samâs.
Max slid along the back wall, just inside the door, and the rest followed.
âQuiet down. Tobyâs been able to get some news over his ham radio. Itâs high frequency, so heâs heard reports from as far away as Houston.â
âHe should be able to reach a lot farther than that,â someone grumbled.
âYeah, I should, but I canât.â A man with a giant belly extending over his belt and tattoos dancing down his arms stood up. âYâall know meâToby Nix. My place is up on the hill to the south of the Pecan Bottoms. Normally I can pick up transmissions from all over the US. What Iâm getting since the aurora hit is mainly static.â
âSo you canât tell us anything.â This from a woman who was sitting on top of the ice-cream cooler, a shotgun resting across her legs.
Max surveyed the room. About half the people were openly carrying either shotguns or rifles. Several others were wearing paddle holsters with pistols. Texas had recently become an open carry state, which allowed citizens with a concealed carry license to openly carry handguns as long as they were in a shoulder or belt holster.
âI didnât say that. Iâve picked up a few transmissions from Abney, Austin, even Houston. The news is all bad.â
F OUR
T he room went deathly quiet, and Max questioned the wisdom of their having stopped. This situation could turn ugly very quickly. Too many people, too many weapons, and fear were not a good combination. Shelby stepped closer to Bianca, who clasped her hand. Max and Patrick stood on either side of the women, as if they could protect them from what this man was about to say.
An old man at the back was the first to break the silence. âTell us about the planes.â
âFrom what I can put together, air traffic control is down completely.â
âEverywhere?â
âSeems that wayâHouston Hobby, George Bush Intercontinental, DFW, even the regional airports like Killeen. Itâs mostly chatter. Thereâs been no official word, but when you hear the same thing from several different sources, you can trust itâs correct.â
Max wasnât sure he agreed with that statement. Lies spread as quickly as truth. But in this case, he was afraid Toby was right.
âSo theyâre