Harmonic: Resonance by Nico Laeser Read Free Book Online Page A

happening, then what chance do we have of figuring it out?”
    I nodded slowly as the realization set in, that perhaps we would never know the how and why but be left with only speculation in the midst of the resulting chaos and confusion. “I’m going to fire up the generator, then you can help me cook breakfast,” I said.
    Powell offered a smile. “I’ll go and check on the preacher.”
    ***
    With the generator fueled up, it sputtered and roared to life on the second pull, and after a slight adjustment of the choke, it settled into a low rumble. On my way back around the house, I stared down and over the fields. The town was out of view behind several hills, but thick black clouds marked its location in the yellow sky above. The black smoke clouds drifted up and across, seamlessly joined to the airborne marker of the next town over, and possibly farther. I wondered about the scale of destruction, if the fires had raged everywhere, ravaged the whole country, perhaps the whole world. I wondered too about the ghosts. Had they appeared everywhere? There were no ghosts at the house, not my mom or my dad. I wondered about Sam, if he’d made it through the chaos, hoping, beyond my realistic fears, he was alive and safe somewhere, but knowing there was little safety to be found while at war. Applying my newly gained knowledge of the behavior of a frightened mob, and imagining the situation amplified by automatic weapons and a preexisting hostility that was never truly explained by the media, was enough to extinguish all but the slightest unrealistic hope of my brother's safe return. Perhaps our dad was there with him, watching out for him, or perhaps Sam was now sharing a dream in the afterlife with Mom and Dad.
    When I returned to the living room, Gary was awake and flicking through the television channels, each one displaying the same static snow and hiss. “Do you have a radio?” he asked.
    “My alarm clock,” I said. “I’ll go and get it for you.”
    “Thank you, Emily,” he said. “Hey, look, I’m sorry if I came across as an asshole yesterday. I just, well, I’m sorry.”
    “I don’t think you’re an asshole; you tried to help everyone back there, you helped us get out,” I said. “You did what you could.”
    Gary winced and looked away. “Yeah, I guess so.”
    His reply seemed insincere, and even though I believed what I had said, that we had all done what little we could, it would never be enough to suppress the guilt of having left so many to face what we had escaped.
    The expression on the preacher’s face on the way back from the church had hinted at the severity of the situation. In my periphery, I had watched him wipe tears from his eyes and wondered if what he’d seen in the church hall was what had been left of the carcass after the wolves had fled.
    ***
    When I returned to the kitchen, my stomach growled in response to the welcome smells of cooking food. “I grabbed some of my dad’s old clothes for whoever needs them, if they fit.” I put the pile down on a stool and set the alarm clock down on the oak surface of the counter.
    “And here’s the radio you wanted, Gary.”
    “Thanks,” Gary said and took it to the nearest power outlet.
    “You started breakfast,” I said, through an uncontrollable smile.
    Powell turned and raised his eyebrows. “Beans, canned tomatoes, and pan-fried hash browns.”
    “You had me at anything but watered-down stew,” Gary said over his shoulder as he continued to skip from one radio station to another, each zipping from static to more static.
    “Figured a decent breakfast would raise everyone’s spirits, no pun intended,” Powell replied.
    “Are you okay, Preacher?” I asked, turning my attention to the end of the breakfast bar where he sat with his head down, seemingly oblivious to all around him.
    He looked up from his hands and stared through me. His glassy stare focused somewhere a thousand miles behind me, his eyes framed by deep red and