Blackout by Robison Wells Read Free Book Online Page A

shown up at the dance to take him.
    As Aubrey and Jack waited in the tall, dry grass behind her trailer park, the disaster at the Gunderson Barn kept replaying in her mind. One thing was nagging at her.
    A soldier had referred to Nate as a “possible Lambda.” What was a Lambda? She knew lambda was a letter in the Greek alphabet, she’d heard about it in physics—a lambda particle—and she’d seen lambda used in math before. But it wasn’t really what it meant that was nagging her; it was that it meant something . Whatever Nate was, he was a possible Lambda. The army knew about Lambdas. They knew about freaks.
    Am I a Lambda?
    The thought both scared and exhilarated her. Whatever made Aubrey invisible had a name. Someone was researching it. Maybe someone was looking for a cure.
    Maybe. Or maybe they were looking for Lambdas to exterminate them.
    “It’s been fifteen minutes,” Jack said, looking at his watch.
    There were lights on in a few of the mobile homes, including hers, but nothing had moved. A car drove down the highway every minute or two, never slowing to glance at the run-down trailer park.
    Cautiously, Aubrey stood and then squeezed through a break in the fence as she’d done a thousand times before. Jack hurried behind her and they slipped quietly down the dirt road to the second home on the right. It was filthy, more so than it used to be, now that Aubrey had a life other than helping her dad. She felt a twinge of embarrassment.
    No, it’s just Jack. He’s been here almost every day since we were little.
    The door was unlocked, as usual, and Aubrey stepped inside. Jack followed her.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Her father’s voice was slurred and loud, breaking through the small amount of calm they’d felt out in the darkness. He stood in the kitchen, fiddling with a can of something.
    Aubrey stepped to her father and gave him a hug. “Just here to change clothes, Daddy.”
    “What happened to your dress?” he nearly shouted. He had about ten days’ worth of unshaven beard, and his long gray hair was out of place as if he’d been sleeping.
    “It’s been a long night,” she said.
    Jack spoke up. “Do you mind if I turn on the news?”
    “Go ahead,” her father replied, his hands and voice shaking. “It’s all crap.”
    Jack sat on the well-worn couch and found the remote for the old TV.
    Aubrey helped her dad as he fumbled with the can opener, cutting the top off a small can of generic chili.
    “. . . those reports from a few minutes ago that the Glen Canyon Dam terrorists had been apprehended are now being called false. Officials are urging everyone—including those on blogs and social media—to not spread unconfirmed rumors.”
    Aubrey paused in front of the TV. She saw for the first time the footage of the collapsed dam—the crumbled cement clinging to the canyon walls as a torrent of water spewed into the Grand Canyon. There were still boats on the lake, kicking up a stream of churning white foam as they fought the current to reach the marina. It had still been light when these videos were taken; she wondered how much worse it was now.
    “I’m going to change,” she mumbled, and headed to her room.
    She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, taking in a deep breath.
    Her room was small—a tiny space with thin walls and a linoleum floor—but she felt safe for the first time that night. It was the one place in the entire town where she didn’t have to put on a show, where she didn’t have to be someone else.
    Sometimes, in her room, she didn’t even feel like her dad’s caretaker. In her room—she was free.
    She took off the heavy sheepskin coat and inspected her dress in front of the mirror on her closet door. It was a complete loss. Aside from the mud stains, which were everywhere, the satin was snagged and scratched from every time she’d pushed through bushes or waded through alfalfa. Even if she could get it cleaned, it would look