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and the traffic signals had gone out?
    What if a transmission line had sparked, causing a fire?
    What if he were trapped in the grocery store inside the freezer? It was an absurd thing to worry about. He didn’t work in the frozen food section, and even if he did, there was an emergency release handle in the freezer—he’d told her that the first week he was employed at the Market.
    Her mind darted over her real concern, shied away, then turned and met it head-on. What if he’d forgotten to check his sugar level and was at that very moment sliding into a diabetic coma? He wouldn’t be able to call 9-1-1 with the phones out. How would he get to the hospital?
    It had only happened once, but she didn’t think she’d ever forget the sight of her son, collapsed on the kitchen floor. She had been unable to wake him.
    She glanced over at Max. He smiled, as if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he could. She’d known Max a long time. They’d grown up together and been sweethearts in high school, but then Max Berkman had abandoned her. Her seventeen-year-old self, the girl who had written letter after letter, seemed like a different person entirely.
    All water under the bridge. Max had eventually moved back to Abney, and they’d been next-door neighbors since.
    Max had heard her shouts the day she’d found Carter lying on the floor. He’d rushed over and sat by her son as she’d dialed the emergency number. Over the years he had been a good friend to them.
    â€œWe were vacationing down in the hill country,” Dale said. “Headed back toward Dallas this afternoon. So everyone’s power is out?”
    â€œSeems so.” Max slowed for a deer darting across the road.
    â€œThe whole area?”
    â€œThe entire state,” Patrick said.
    Max readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Maybe the whole country.”
    â€œWere those explosions that we heard?” Joyce asked.
    â€œWe think there were at least two plane crashes and one train derailment.” Patrick paused and added, “Those are only the ones we know about.”
    Dale and Joyce Smitty took the news fairly well. Shelby guessed their ages to be at least seventy. No doubt they’d been through many catastrophes in their lives—the aftermath of World War II, the drought of the fifties, the attack on the World Trade Center. Those events and so manymore had affected their entire nation, but they had survived. The elderly couple was testament to the fact that their country had faced terrible times before but had always found a way to endure.
    Max drove cautiously. Shelby wanted to reach over, push his knee down, and force the truck to accelerate. Instead, she worked some dirt from beneath her thumbnail and tried to pray for Carter.
    Why was she so worried?
    He was a good boy, nearly a man now. He would know what to do. He’d lived with his condition since he was four. She could trust him to take care of himself.
    As they entered the outskirts of Abney, Shelby relaxed. Everything looked exactly as they had left it, except the sky. There was no plane debris scattered across the road, no smoldering fires. The red aurora was now tinged with green and blue. Occasionally starlight pierced through. The sight made her dizzy.
    She was suddenly glad that they were crammed into the truck, Max on one side, an old woman she barely knew on the other. She didn’t want to be alone during whatever this was, and she didn’t want to think about the research in her study.
    She shook the idea from her head. They were a child’s thoughts, and she was a woman. She didn’t have the luxury of being afraid, not now.
    Max must have felt her stiffen. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
    She didn’t respond. Why bother? It was one of the differences between them. He would never be able to fully understand the strength of the bond between parent and child. He’d never married, never had