The lights flickered, casting the inside of the crowded subway train car into brief seconds of complete blackness. Then the train came to a sudden stop, causing me to lurch forward, clumsily bumping against an old man holding a walking cane who was standing next to me. The silence created by the stillness of the train was replaced by the din created by the passengers voicing their alarm and consternation.
After a moment the voice of the train operator sounded through the overhead speakers. “Ladies and gentleman, there has been a power outage. The power will most likely be restored very soon. Please remain calm and stay where you are.”
My stomach churned and the palms of my hands broke out into pools of sweat.
“We’re going to be late for work,” Carl said in a hushed voice into my left ear. He was standing on my left side.
“Lots of people are,” I said. The old man who I had bumped into was having a coughing fit. He had a handkerchief over his mouth and was spitting phlegm into it.
I looked at Carl. “Why are you whispering?”
“Don’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
Beads of perspiration began to pop up above his upper lip. “There’s something in the air.”
I did feel it also, but I said nothing. I bit into my lower lip until it hurt.
While the lights remained on for the next hour, the air conditioning had shut off as soon as the train stopped. When no one showed up to open the doors, several men tried unsuccessfully to pry them open. Those of us who had been standing, sat on the dirty floor. Most of us who had cellphones had them glued to our faces.
“I can’t reach Janet,” I said to Carl who was talking to Jill, our department secretary. I left another message for Janet and then put the phone in my suit jacket pocket.
“Jill says the entire coast is experiencing a blackout,” Carl said, giving me a running narration of everything Jill said. “She says there was a breakout at the county jail.”
“What about Jessup Davis? He said he would kill both of us if he ever got out of prison,” I said.
“What about Jessup Davis?” he said into the phone, looked at me and shrugged. “Dan is still expecting us to come in.”
The old man beside me was leaning back against a pole attached to the seats. He had his cane between his legs. His pallor was chalky white and he had his eyes closed. His breathing was labored. Despite my pleading, no one would give up their seat for him.
When the doors were opened from the outside, there was a muted cheer from the passengers. Two cops and two men in subway worker uniforms, all holding flashlights, stood along the rim of the doorway.
While I had seen the darkness in the tunnel through the train window, it wasn’t until I looked through the open doors that I realized fully that there were no lights in the tunnel at all.
“Everyone is going to need to walk to the next station, which is only about a hundred yards away. We’ll take you in groups of twenty. We’ll take those of you sitting on the floor, first,” one of the cops, said.
There was some expressions of disgruntlement among those seated. Carl and I stood up along with the others who had been sitting on the floor. I then helped the old man stand up, held onto his arm, and carried his cane as I pushed my way to the door.
“This man is sick,” I said to one of the cops.
“I’ll take him,” the cop said as he held out his arms, and then helped the old man climb down onto the path along the tracks.
I handed the cane to the cop, and then leaned out and watched as the cop lit the way with his flashlight while holding onto the old man.
Carl and I were in the second group of twenty that left the car. We walked in a single line, each person holding onto the person in front of them. The glow of the station lights kept on by auxiliary power could be seen in the distance, but once we passed the train, we were shrouded in darkness. As we entered a portion of the pathway that was so dark that I couldn’t see Carl, who I was holding onto, the line came to an abrupt stop.
The light from a flashlight was scanning the faces of those in front of me in the line. Suddenly the beam of light from the flashlight shone in my face. It provided enough light to see that the person holding the flashlight was the cop who had assisted the old man.
“Have you seen him?” the cop asked, his voice strained, almost frantic.
“Seen who?” I asked. I knew even before he answered who he was asking about. I had taken responsibility for the old man for a short time, and now that it seemed he had gotten lost in the darkness, I was overwhelmed with guilt.
“That old man.” He tapped me on the shoulder with the old man’s cane. “He’s disappeared. One minute he was there and then he vanished. I don’t know how he got away from me.”
I wanted to punch the cop. How could you lose an old man? I thought.
The cop quickly moved on to those behind me, shining the flashlight in each person’s face. We proceeded on, reaching the station platform just as a second ladder was set up to hasten getting the train passengers out of the tunnel. Carl and I climbed the same ladder, and wound our way through the throng on the platform who were waiting for the power to be restored, and climbed the stairs leading up to the street. It was nearly 11 AM and the traffic on the street was at a complete standstill, yet many drivers honked their horns, the sound of which echoed between the skyscrapers. The streetlights and crosswalk lights were off, as were the neon signs on the store fronts and in the display windows. The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians, most who seemed to be wandering while awaiting the return of electricity. Carl and I waded into a stream of individuals headed the direction of the street where the building housing the City Attorney’s Office was located.
Like so many of those around us, I kept my cellphone to my face, trying to reach Janet.
Before we entered our building, Carl put his phone in his pocket.
As we entered the lobby, a cop, the building manager, and a woman in paramedic clothing, were standing at the open door of one of the elevators and calling up the dark elevator shaft.
“Please answer us,” the cop yelled.
*
It was a little past 7 PM when Carl and I walked out of the building. The last red streaks of twilight crossed the burgeoning night sky. In the street the traffic was clogged, with several of the vehicles looking as if they had been abandoned. There were still quite a few people on the sidewalks. We stopped at the small grocery store near our office building to buy bottles of water for the long walk home. The shelves were mostly empty. What was left was in a state of disarray. Pete, the store owner, had placed battery operated camping lanterns around the store. The lighting was dim, but adequate.
“I have a few bottles left in the backroom,” Pete said when I told him what we wanted. “But it’ll cost you,” he added.
“Cost us?” I asked.
“A hundred bucks a bottle, cash” he replied.
“That’s price gauging,” I said. “You do realize we’re lawyers?”
“In the darkness we’re all the same,” Pete said, his lips curled in a sneer.
Carl took out two one hundred dollar bills and placed them on the counter. Pete took the bills and put them in his pocket.
“I’ll be right back,” Pete said, and then he opened a door behind the counter and went into a back room and closed the door.
I turned to Carl. “Do you always carry around that much money?” I asked.
“I was going on a date later tonight, but obviously that has been canceled.” When Pete didn’t return, Carl asked, “ What’s taking him so long?” his voice tinged with annoyance,
I went around the counter and opened the door just enough to peer in. Inside it was pitch black. In my entire life I had never willingly entered a room with so little light.
“Pete?” I called out, almost squeamishly.
All day I had been repressing my fear of the darkness, something I had experienced since childhood, but it wasn’t darkness alone that would send chills up my spine. I feared being without electricity more than anything else.
“Help me.” It was Pete.
I opened the door all the way. In the pale light cast by the lanterns I saw Pete’s head and shoulders sticking out of the blackness of the back wall of the store room. His face was contorted into an expression of terror and pain. Then the wall, the blackness, swallowed him. I pulled the door closed and ran around the counter.
I grabbed Carl by the shoulders. “The darkness is taking us,” I stammered.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, a look of bemusement on his face.
“We have to get home,” I said. “Forget about the water.”
I grabbed two of the lanterns and ushered Carl out of the store. I handed one of the lanterns to him and said, “Hold on to this as if your life depends on it.”
Only the beams of vehicle headlights, flashlights, and flickering of candle flames, stood out in the dark shadows cast by the early night that had overtaken the city. As we walked along at a hurried pace, I tried to tell Carl what I had seen happen to Pete.
“It makes no sense,” he said.
As we kicked purses, cellphones, ball caps, backpacks, and pieces of jewelry, out of our way as we walked down the dark streets, a number of times I said, “None of this makes sense.”
A few blocks from my house where Carl usually turned the corner to go to the apartment building where he lived, Jessup Davis stepped out of the shadows of a store doorway holding a lit lighter. He held a gun in his other trembling hand that he pointed back and forth at us.
“This dark, it ain’t natural. So don’t either of you move or I’ll blow your heads off,” he said, his voice quivering. He flicked his lighter closed.
“Jessup, this isn’t the time to . . .” I began.
“Shut up,” he screeched as he pointed the gun at my head. “You two got me sent to prison. I escaped from one hellhole to enter another one – this city – and I need money to get away. Hand over your cash.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” Carl said.
Suddenly Jessup turned the gun on Carl and shot him in the arm. “The talking is over.”
Carl dropped the lantern. It went out as soon as it hit the cement. He clasped his hand over the spot where the bullet had entered his bicep. Blood quickly seeped through his shirt and suit jacket forming a large dark red stain. He looked like he was going to pass out.
I swung my lantern, hitting Jessup in the side of the head. He dropped the gun and stumbled backwards into the dark doorway. In an instant, the blackness surrounded him, and pulled him into it.
Holding the lantern in the crook of one arm, I put my other arm around Carl to hold him up. “We’ll go to my house,” I said. With Carl leaning against me, we hurried past the mostly dark houses. In a few windows the glow of candlelight shone, but we saw no one. The silence was tactile; like having cotton stuffed in my ears. We stopped briefly in the front of my house as I stared at the dark windows.
“Please, God, no,” I mumbled.
By the time I got Carl through the front door, he was ready to collapse. I helped him to a chair and handed him the lantern. “I’ll be right back,” I said.
“No, don’t,” he slurred.
For a moment I froze, paralyzed by the realization that I was inside my worse nightmare; a world with no electricity. It was Carl’s painful groan that snapped me out of it. The light from the lantern and the ambient light in the room allowed me to quickly find the candles and matches in the corner table drawer and return to where Carl was sitting. I lit the two candles and placed them on the stand next to where Carl was sitting, and then removed Carl’s jacket. I ripped open his bloodied shirt and looked at the bullet wound. The bullet had gone all the way through, and despite the amount of blood loss, the wound didn’t look life threatening. I ripped his sleeve off and tied it around the injury. “I have to look for Janet,” I told him.
“Go,” he said, weakly. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
I grabbed the lantern and started down the hallway toward the kitchen. It wasn’t until I reached the door leading to the basement that I saw it was slightly ajar. I opened it and shone the light from the lantern on the stairs. Beyond the steps the rest of the basement was dark.
“Janet?” I called out. There was no response.
I walked slowly down the stairs, keeping the lantern close to my chest. At the bottom I took a step onto the floor and heard the crunching of glass under my shoe. I bent down and saw that it was Janet’s glasses I had stepped on. Also scattered on the floor were fuses, some of the dozens I kept in the basement utility closet. I ran back up the stairs and slammed the door closed and then ran into the living room. The candles were out and Carl was gone.
I collapsed on the sofa, holding the lantern, and closed my eyes.
I awoke with a start still holding onto the lantern that glowed dimly. Hazy morning light was shining through the windows. I quickly stood up and placed the lantern on the coffee table. I ran through the house flipping on light switches and turning on kitchen appliances, relieved to see the glow of light bulbs and hear the buzz and whirring of the appliances. I went to the front door, threw it open, and stepped out onto the porch. Current hummed through the electric lines.
Now, practically alone, in terror I wait until it runs out.
#
author bio:
Steve Carr, who lives in Richmond, Va., began his writing career as a military journalist and has had over 260 short stories published internationally in print and online magazines, literary journals and anthologies since June, 2016. He has two collections of short stories, Sand and Rain, that have been published by Clarendon House Publications. His third collection of short stories, Heat, was published by Czykmate Productions. His YA collection of stories, The Tales of Talker Knock was published by Clarendon House Publications. His plays have been produced in several states in the U.S. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize twice. His website is https://www.stevecarr960.com/. He is on Twitter @carrsteven960.