Love in the Dark

Chapter One

PART ONE - THE FIRST HOUR

Chapter One - Seven Years Later

Laura jolted awake, her heart thudding in her chest, with the deep, sickening feeling that something was terribly wrong. She blinked, trying to understand what had roused her. Immediately she reached for her daughter, checking to make sure that her body was warm with life, and she was still breathing.

Zahara sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer. Zahara had her own bedroom, complete with a very pink bed, but she never slept in it. Laura smoothed back the curly hair that tickled her face and pressed her lips against the little girl's soft cheek.

Slowly Laura became aware that the quiet was too quiet, and the darkness was too dark. The fan that was always on, even in the winter months, was silent and still. The streetlamp that always illuminated the bedroom window, even through the curtains and blinds, was dark. She rolled over and tried the lamp, but as expected, nothing happened when she turned the switch.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her cellphone. The screen was dark. When she attempted to power it on, nothing happened. Even if it had stopped charging in the night, it should still have power. She leaned back on her pillow with trembling lips.

It was happening.

The thing she had been dreaming about since she was a child, the terrible thing. It was starting. She slipped from the bed, careful not to wake her daughter and went into the kitchen. Luckily, she had a gas stove, so she was able to put on a pot for tea. She would have a cup of tea and relish a few moments of normalcy before everything went to hell. She put the kettle on and groped in the darkness for the lighter she kept over the stove, and the novelty candle that she kept on the shelf. The candle said, "My last f**k, oh look, it's on fire!" Laura's lips twisted in wry amusement as she lit the candle and reached for her favorite mug in the cupboard.

When the kettle began to whistle, she poured hot water over her tea bag, added a spoon full of honey, and retreated to her recliner, which faced the front of the house and the eastern windows. She sipped her tea and tried to calm her anxiety.

To the rest of the world, it was just a blackout. It wasn't uncommon to lose power on and off this time of year. Ice and snow brought down tree limbs onto the power lines. But it wouldn't take long before panic set in. When people realized that NOTHING was working. When their battery-operated flashlights wouldn't power on, when their cars wouldn't start, when their solar powered back up system failed. That's when they would realize this was no ordinary black out.

She wanted to get out of the city before people started to realize how bad it really was. It wouldn't take long for it to descend into chaos and violence. People were already exhausted and on edge, having been bombarded with the early signs of The Fall. Pandemics, economic crisis, civil unrest, racial tensions. This would push them over the edge, and Laura wanted to be far away before the looting and senseless destruction started.

She'd seen it all play out in her visions and in her dreams, night after night, since she was Zahara's age.

When the first blush of dawn showed on the horizon, Zahara woke up for herself. She patted out into the living room in her pajamas and her bare feet, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Mama?"

"Good morning, baby." Laura set her tea aside and opened her arms. Her daughter happily climbed into her lap, leaning her head on Laura's shoulder.

"What's happening?" Zahara asked, always eerily in tune with Laura's moods.

"Remember what we talked about?"

Zahara nodded her head against Laura's shoulder, static electricity making her fine hair stick to Laura's neck. Laura had been gently preparing her daughter for this day since the child was old enough to talk.

"Well, its time. I'm going to cook you some breakfast, then we are going to go to Grandpa's house. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Mama." Zahara said bravely, but she clung harder to her mother's slight body. Her mother called this an adventure, but she could feel Laura's fear. She petted her mother's arm, as much to comfort Laura as to comfort herself.

"Okay baby, you go get dressed, and make sure you wear extra warm clothes. I'll make the bed and go make some eggs." Laura eased the child off her lap and went to make the bed. It didn't matter that the apocalypse had started. It didn't matter that she was never going to sleep in this bed again. She must make the bed.

When she had fluffed the pillows and put them in place, she hurried out to the kitchen. She took the eggs out of the fridge and started whisking them up for scrambled eggs.

By the time Zahara came back into the kitchen, Laura was plating up the eggs, along with sliced fruit and cheese and yogurt. Zahara eyed the table suspiciously as she slid into her chair. "That's too much food," she said quietly.

Laura picked up her fork. "We won't be coming back here for a long time," she said gently, "so we need to finish up the fresh food."

Zahara didn't say anything else. She climbed into her chair and started to eat. Laura tried not to let her anxiety show, but it was impossible to hide anything from the little empath. When they were finished eating, Laura scraped their remaining food into the compost bucket. She had already emptied everything perishable out of the fridge. She took the bucket and dumped it in the bin behind the cottage.

It was late February. Nights were still bitter cold, but on most days the temperatures were climbing above freezing, sometimes even into the fifties. It was maple-sugaring weather. She made a few last preparations for the house. There was canned food and water hidden beneath the floorboards. Extra blankets, candles, and supplies are stashed in the crawl-space attic.

By the time she got back to the cottage, the place would be ransacked. She'd seen it in her dreams. Cupboard doors torn right from the hinges, all of the drawers dumped out and smashed, curtains torn down from the windows, furniture destroyed. But the hidden things would remain hidden.

She pulled two backpacks out of the closet. Backpacks that had been packed and ready for years. She put an extra pair of socks on Zahara's small feet before she dressed her in her snow pants, her winter coat, a big hat that covered her ears, a scarf that covered most of her face, and warm mittens. By the time Laura was done, only Zahara's dark eyes were visible.

"Mama, I don't like being bundled." Zahara whined slightly.

"I know baby, but it's a long walk to grandpa's." She pulled a worn brown teddy bear out of the bed. "Don't forget Silly Bear." The child clutched the bear to her chest while Laura wrestled a jogging stroller out of the closet.

"I'm too big for a stroller," Zahara said disdainfully, eyeing the stroller.

"It's not for you," Laura said easily. " It's for the backpacks. They are too heavy to carry the whole way. And just in case you get tired, you can ride with the bags." When Zahara wasn't looking, Laura slid a hunting knife into her waistband, and a machete in its case into the bottom of the jog stroller. Laura locked up the cottage, looking everything over one last time.

Just for the sake of argument, she made one attempt to start her old, rusted pickup truck. She slid into the seat and turned the key, but nothing happened. Not even a click. She sighed and slid back out of the truck, which was now nothing more than a useless gob of metal.