//------------------------------//
// Cut the Cord 
// Story: The Coming Storm 
// by Jay911 
//------------------------------//


MAY 27



        For the first time in several days, I woke without being poked or prodded.


        And it hurt far more than the poking or prodding ever did.



        Despite my new form, I went through my normal routine, being in my home again. From my bed straight to the bathroom, to tend to my needs. Well, I didn’t try to brush my teeth, but I guess I’ll have to figure that out sometime eventually. Or do I? Horses don’t brush. Right?


        Next I went down the hall and peeked in the two guest rooms. Both were empty. So was the bathroom across the hall from them. Continuing past the basement stairs and the back door, opposite one another, I entered the dining room.


        On the table, atop the papers and mail that was the last indication of my sister’s existence, was the small bag I’d put in the truck when we left the mall. A couple of bottles of water and some granola bars, plus my phone, which had its cable snaking out of the bag and into a wall socket. I ignored it for a minute, passing through the clearly empty open-plan kitchen beside the dining room, and went into the front room/living room.


        Also empty.


        Out in the driveway, my little sports car sat where I’d left it the week before, having rented the SUV to camp in at the track.


        The SUV was gone.


        I didn’t know what to think. Had Jill abandoned me? Was she off on a mission of her own she didn’t bother telling me about?


        Had she been abducted?


        I shivered as the duality of that last possibility hit me. I’d first been thinking of her being grabbed and hauled away by persons - or ponies - unknown, but the concept that she’d been ‘raptured’ while I was asleep made me want to wet myself in fright. I had no desire to be the only creature left in the world.


        If there’s a God, take me, whereever you’ve taken all the rest of them, I begged.


        I went back into the dining room and checked the phone - what I obviously should have done in the first place. I know. I’m smart, but I’m not smart.


        I had a text message from an unfamiliar number.


        I’m going back to the mall for a bit to make our ‘meeting time’ we promised on our radio message. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back this afternoon. If you need anything, call or text me. -J.


        It was sent at 9:34. The phone, if it was keeping correct time, said it was just after 11 now.


        I opened one of the water bottles and slurped it down, wishing I had something - anything - in my pantry. I’d planned it that way; I ran myself out of everything perishable on purpose before I went on vacation, so that nothing would spoil while I was out. I’d planned to do grocery shopping on the Sunday, on the way home from the races.


        I couldn’t even make pancakes.


        There was a single sleeve of saltine crackers way in the back of the pantry, and half a jar of peanut butter. I had no idea if it would work for my palate, but I tore open the wrapper, scooped them through the spread like it was dip, and choked them down anyway. I didn’t gag or send them back up, so I considered that a small victory.


        Over in the corner of the living room by my easy chair, which I had no desire to sit in since it felt weird on my new frame, was a scanner. I couldn’t transmit, but I could at least listen in and see if either Jill found somebody, or somebody found us.


        Of course, though, the radio persisted in its stubborn silence.


        I turned on my TV, but only the two empty studios we’d seen on the TVs in Wal-Mart were broadcasting, their signals unchanged. I shut it off again and wandered the house.


        Smelling the ‘wet dog’ smell I’d recognized the day before, and now having the resources to do something about it (at least, as long as the power kept the water pressure up), I went and had a shower.


        Luckily, I had a fairly large walk-in shower, and not a regular old bathtub - I don’t know if I’d’ve been able to stand up in one of those. As it was, I had enough room to move around and do my thing. Washing wings - especially obstinate ones - was a new experience, of course.


        I spent a long time in the shower. I’m not sure if tears mixed in with the wastewater pouring off me. I’m not even sure if alien ponies can cry. All I know is I said my goodbyes to Sue and the boys, and my dad on the other side of the country (or, rather, most likely not), while inside that shower stall.


        My basement had a sun patio off one end of the house, with a sliding glass door letting people out to soak up the rays. Today it let a pony out instead, and I shivered like a dog to shake off the water, then curled up by the edge to watch the world (not) go by.


        What do we do next? I wondered. Is there even a ‘we’ left? I was still not ruling out the possibility that Jill would weigh her options and decide to just move on. I really had no idea who she was except for the past few days we’d spent together. I could have completely the wrong idea about her.


        I felt a tinge of guilt even thinking about that, considering how kind she’d been to me - letting me in to her ‘home’, sharing her accumulated scavenged spoils with me, and even accompanying me to see what happened to my family.


        I sat there on the deck and sulked for a while, just watching the river across the back yard as it flowed uninterrupted, ignoring the departure of almost every creature that graced its banks.



        I blinked and startled awake some time later - my coat was dry, and I had no idea how long I’d been out. Was I sleeping a lot longer than usual? Do alien pegasi need more than 8 hours a day?


        The sun was still decently high in the sky, so it wasn’t too late in the afternoon. As I continued to wake, my ears twitched, and I realized what had woken me.


        I snapped my head up to focus at the point my ears were telling me to. A deer was standing rock-still on the opposite bank of the river, in the woods, watching me.


        I slowly got to my hooves, not taking my eyes off the doe. It held its ground.


        Stepping as silently and slowly as I could down the short staircase to the back lawn, I breathed and kept my eyes focused in the same spot, trying not to let my mind think of a cartoon school principal sneaking up on the animal from behind.


        I was halfway across the lawn when something occurred to me. “Hello?” I called out softly. “Can you understand me?”


        Who were you before this happened?


        The figure across the river didn’t respond. Didn’t do anything but stare at me, and flick its white tail once.


        ... or have you always been a deer, I went on to myself.


        I made it to the bank on my side of the river. We were no more than twenty feet away from one another. The deer actually was a few inches taller than me, I realized, mildly miffed at that.


        “You got any friends?” I asked, still speaking softly as if raising my voice would make it bolt. “Do you have any idea what happened?” Could you even tell me if you knew?


        Suddenly, its head shifted, just as my ears twitched again. It was looking towards the road, and I was hearing something in the direction as well.


        I hazarded a glance to the highway and felt my heart skip a beat as I saw a black SUV crossing the bridge northbound and decelerating.


        Motion before me made me look back at the deer. Unlike any other deer I’d seen, which would have just turned and sprinted off, this one focused back on me again, took a cautious step back, stamping a hoof in the duff, and then backed away slowly, only turning and running after it was well within the cover of the foliage.


        I didn’t spend much time dwelling on the encounter - instead, I turned and galloped across the back yard, up the hill that connected it to the front, and met the SUV just as Jill parked it under the tree, where she’d stopped the night before.


        Did she have somebody with her in the passenger seat?


        The driver’s door opened with a glow, and she hopped down. “Good to see you’re upOOF!”


        I barrelled into her and threw my forelegs around her in a hug. She laughed and put a hoof around my shoulders. “Hi,” she started over.


        “Thank you,” I said in a muffled voice directed into her mane. “For yesterday. And everything else.”


        “No problem,” she answered, releasing me. She was about to say something else, but a sudden growl put my fur on end.


        “Stop! No!” Jill commanded, and I was aware of her ‘passenger’ bounding out over the center console and onto the ground beside her. A black-and-white spotted creature circled around her a couple of times, then set to sniffing me.


        A dog?


        My thoughts went back to the same kind of thing I’d been thinking about the deer. Was this someone who’d heard our distress call and come running?


        “What the-” I stammered.


        “Easy,” Jill laughed. “Down, boy. She’s okay.” To me, she added, “He was wandering around near the mall when I got back there. I think maybe he broke out of a firehouse.”


        I took another look. Indeed, the canine was a Dalmatian. “Uh..” I understated.


        “I’m pretty sure he’s not like us,” she said. “I mean, he wasn’t human before. He seems too dog-like for that to be true. But he’s … how do I put this? … Spooky smart.”


        “Dals are smart breeds,” I said, my head on a swivel as I tried to keep him in view, as he continued to sniff me out and went on to the surroundings shortly after. Irritatingly, I noticed my wings were in full freakout mode again, and grit my teeth to will them to close up once more.


        “More than that. Like this. C’mere, buddy. Say hello.”


        The dog immediately abandoned his pursuit of whatever scent was on the front lawn and hurried over to Jill’s side, pivoting towards me and holding out a paw to shake.


        “Could be trained well,” I countered, letting it bump my upraised hoof.


        “She’s like me,” Jill directed at the dog. “She’s my friend.”


        The dog hunched down on the ground, crawled to me, and turned over to show its belly - a sure sign of submission.


        I patronizingly rubbed its underside with a hoof, getting a wag and a … grin? … in response.


        “The mall was deserted,” Jill went on. “Both of them. Except for him.”


        “Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to add.


        “Oh! And I thought maybe we’d try something different tonight.” She turned away and opened the back door of the SUV with her magic, using it also to bring out several grocery bags.


        “What’s this?” I asked.


        “Well, presuming we have a working stove here since we’re at a place where the kitchen appliances aren’t just props, I figured we could do a little better than salad.”


        “Oh?” I said, watching as the bags floated past me, following her towards the front door.


        “C’mon, buddy,” she said, and the dog leapt to its feet, chasing after her. I decided that ‘buddy’ had the right idea, and fell in line.



        Jill was taking things out of the bags in the kitchen when I got inside. “I should have asked first thing,” she said apologetically. “Are you okay?”


        “Yeah,” I said with a long and drawn-out sigh. “I’ve made my peace. Thanks. Again. For everything.”


        She shook her head. “Don’t mention it.” After a pause, she added, “Did you have a bath?”


        “Shower,” I nodded. “But I used up every drop of shampoo. Sorry.”


        “Oh of course,” she shot back playfully. “What am I gonna use?”


        “Didn’t you just come from a department store?” I walked closer and inspected what she was unpacking, and blinked. “Spaghetti?”


        “You up for that?” she asked. “Crap, I didn’t even think to ask if you liked it or not.”


        “No, no, that’s great,” I nodded. “I’m kind of surprised. Everything I’ve put in my face over the past four days has grown out of the ground.”


        “I don’t think we’re true herbivores,” Jill shrugged. “Both of us have subsisted off something other than fruits and veggies so far.”


        “Yeah,” I said, thinking back to the peanut butter. I surveyed all the ingredients, now that they were out of the plastic bags, and put on a look of dejection.


        “What’s wrong?” Jill asked, picking up on my disappointment.


        I couldn’t help but pout, ears folded back. “I wish I could have meatballs,” I said, waving a hoof across the pasta and cans of plain tomato sauce, with a handful of small jars of spices.


        Jill patted me on the head. “Remember the last time you tried meat, sweetie.”


        “Hush,” I frowned good-humoredly. “Anything I can do to help?”


        “Point me in the direction of your pots, and get the stove going, two burners please, one high and one low.”


        I did as requested, feeling a little better - okay, a lot better - now that I wasn’t the only living thing in earshot again. That thought reminded me of my encounter just before she returned, and I told her excitedly about the deer.


        “That’s amazing,” Jill observed. “I’ve seen tame deer all over Calgary and the towns that surround it, back home. Some even eat right out of your hand if you’re patient enough.”


        “I’m not sure that this one was just tame,” I said. “I got a really weird vibe from it.”


        “Vibes, maaaan?” Jill joked.


        “Like him,” I said, gesturing to the Dalmatian, who had just ascended the stairs from the basement after taking his own tour of the house, and apparently deeming it fit for habitation. He glanced up at me, then laid down beside the dining room table.


        “I know, I know,” she responded, filling one of the two pots with water. “I don’t know what to think of it, but it’s definitely something we should keep studying. I’ll take some notes after supper - which is what I did last night, by the way. I filled a whole notebook so far and I’m working on the second one.”


        “Cool,” I nodded. “You must write fast. What’s his name, by the way?”


        “Well, he answers to ‘Buddy’,” smirked my cooking partner.


        The dog looked up at us, then put his head back down. I could’ve sworn he either sighed or rolled his eyes.


        “Oh, I thought that was just a placeholder,” I said.


        “That brings up another point I want to make, but I’ll wait ‘til after supper to make it.”


        “Oh?”


        “After supper,” Jill nodded, seeming serious all of a sudden.


        And so we continued making the meal. I discovered a couple of jugs of milk in the fridge that I’d somehow missed Jill putting away - I must have been distracted with Buddy - and I chugged one all the way down, much to Jill’s amusement.


        I commented on how proficient she was getting with her TK magic, and she assured me she was practicing it every chance she got. She told me it was an interesting sensation, like she was just willing things to move around and they simply obeyed her. Then she commented that it wasn’t as easy as she made it sound, and I said I understood, gesturing to my wings. Still, I filed her advice away for the next time I had a chance to try to get my feathered appendages working.


        I wonder if after three tries and failures I can turn this body back in under the lemon law, I said, smirking to myself.



        We had some late lunch/early supper about half an hour later. Jill, of course, used a fork on her pasta, telekinetically manipulating it to spool spaghetti around the tines.


        “Now you’re just rubbing it in,” I jokingly groused as I mashed my face into my plate, eating the ‘pony’ way.


        “I could feed you if you want,” she teased.


        “No thanks,” I said, leaning away. “Too ‘Lady and the Tramp’ for me.”


        “Aww,” Jill giggled, then fell silent as we both took a few more mouthfuls.


        “This is good,” I said when I came up for air at one point. “Thanks for thinking of it.”


        “I figured you were tired of the salad bar,” she responded. Then, almost out of the blue: “What do you want to do? Go back to the Wal-Mart or stay here in your own bed?”


        I stopped eating and lowered my head. “There are too many memories here,” I said, contradicting the earlier assertion that I was ‘over it’. “Plus it doesn’t feel like my own bed any more.”


        “Uh-huh,” Jill nodded, then continued eating without another word.


        At that moment, a chirp sounded from the radio over in the living room. At first, I thought we were getting our first indication of other life, but then with falling hopes I realized what it was.


        “What was that?” Jill asked.


        “Power’s gone out,” I said, looking over to the stove and microwave, both with their digital clocks dark. “Scanner switched over to internal batteries.”


        “Ohhh,” Jill said with a frown.


        I thought the empty world couldn’t have gotten any quieter, but now I heard it without a fridge and freezer running. “That took a lot longer than I thought it would,” I said. “I figured without human intervention it’d all break down way sooner.”


        “Does that change anything?” Jill asked, taking up her second-last forkful of spaghetti.


        “Probably not,” I shrugged. “I don’t want to stay here, and the work we’ve done already in the mall is better than nothing. Maybe we can find some solar kits and windmills to run the important stuff, like radios and fridges.”


        “We’ll need to plant a garden,” she said.


        “Yup,” I agreed.


        “What’s our goal? Just sit there and survive and hope somepony comes across us?”


        I didn’t even react to her unusual terminology this time. “Until we know how wide this reaches, I don’t know what else we can do. Maybe probe out on patrols, see if something else in the GTA survived. The mall is in between the two major highway corridors through this part of the world. It makes sense to stay there and let people come to us, I think.”


        Jill set down her fork on an empty plate; I had finished some time before. “You are so messy,” she said, regarding me with a (somehow pitying) smirk.


        I couldn’t see my face, but I could imagine it, drenched in tomato sauce. “I couldn’t help it, I had to have my snout in my food all night. Teach me how to magick things up and around.”


        “You need one of these, I think,” she smiled, tapping her horn with a hoof. After a moment, she said, “Can I ask you something?”


        “You just did,” I joked.


        “Ha ha. I mean, can I ask you this. I’m handling this really well as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know why, but I am. I think maybe it has to do with me having my, um, ‘butt picture’, and my magic abilities. I think I’m adapting really well to being a unicorn pony all of a sudden, and maybe it’s because of the magic I seem to have now. But… well, you.”


        “But me,” I nodded.


        “You, um…”


        “I don’t have a ‘butt picture’,” I said, using hooves to make approximations of finger quotes, “I can’t use these wings, and the big ticket item, I’m now batting from the other side of the plate.”


        “Er. So to speak.”


        “And you’re a little spooked about how I’m not so spooked.”


        “When you put it that way,” she shrugged, trailing off.


        “What point is there in freaking out about it?” I asked rhetorically. “I changed species. Why’s changing anything else supposed to matter? And more importantly, what can I do about it?”


        Jill just blinked.


        “I can’t do anything to change it,” I said. “I can only play the hand I was dealt. I learned that a very hard way when I was very young. There’s no point in worrying over what’s happened, because it’s in the past, and it’s already done.” I gestured with a hoof at myself. “This is already over and done with.”


        Jill was quiet for a long moment or two. “So… you’re resigned to being like this for good?”


        “Can’t do anything about it,” I shook my head. “Or if I can, I haven’t figured it out yet. Have you?”


        She shook her head in response. “I get your point. We’re ponies now. Nothing we did caused us - as far as we know - to become like this. So logic dictates that nothing we do is going to change us back.”


        “That’s about the size of it.”


        “Including you being…”


        I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Including me being a girl,” I said. “What, did you want me to blurt it out?”


        A faint smile crossed her muzzle briefly.


        “So,” she said. “You’re committed to ponydom and don’t want to stay here.”


        I nodded.


        “Well, I think you should leave Tom here. I know Jill’s staying behind.”


        I blinked, even though I understood what she was saying. Sort of. I thought. “She is?”


        “I’m sticking with you,” she clarified. “But there’s nopony who knows Jill Dannon, and I sure don’t look like her anymore. And the same can be said for you and Tom Wright.”


        I couldn’t deny it, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise; she was on a roll.


        “Henceforth, I shall be known as... “ She paused for dramatic effect. “Swift Quill.”


        “‘Swift Quill’?” I echoed, an eyebrow raised.


        “I came up with it on the way back from the mall. It just popped into my head and seemed… right. Don’t you think?”


        “It’s certainly unique,” I had to agree. “And I guess it fits you. There’s no denying you’re fast, especially with that magic, and what you’re good at - besides the magic - is literally…”


        “A quill,” she beamed. “Say it. Say my name.”


        I was tempted to blurt out ‘Heisenberg’, but instead, I said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Swift Quill.”


        The new Swift Quill giggled and squirmed on her chair. “That sounds so cool!” she gushed. “That’s me from now on. Now you have to make one up for yourself.”


        “Buh,” I stammered. “Hey, this is a big decision. You just sprung it on me two minutes ago. Give me some time.”


        “Better figure it out before we find somepony else,” she winked. “It won’t do to tell them you’re ex-Tom and still searching.”


        “I’ll come up with something,” I muttered, my ears folding back.


        Swift grinned, her eyes brightening. “There’s half of it already. You’re so dark all the time… you are going to be Stormy something.”


        I sat up straight, unknowingly flaring my wings out. “What?! Wait a second, I didn’t agree to that!”


        “Too late,” she sang. “I hereby dub you Stormy. Just think, if you weren’t so surly half the time, you could have avoided this.”


        I frowned. “Are you really serious?”


        She smirked again and pointed a hoof at me. “See? Exactly like that!”



        I spent the next half-hour gathering up things I wanted to take from the house. This wasn’t going to be my home any more, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t find uses for some things that were here.


        “Did she go bananas on me, Buddy?” I asked after spitting out the handle of a backpack full of items onto the living room floor. Jill - I mean, Swift - was using the shower while the water pressure was still good. We’d have to come up with something manual at the store if we wanted to enjoy that human luxury in the new world.


        Buddy was lying on the couch, silently watching me cart stuff into the living room from various places throughout the house. Or was he passing judgement on my choices?


        I found a spare duffel bag in the front closet and pulled the zipper open, loading some more items into it. In a moment of weakness, I collected all the photos from the walls and side tables in the house and packed them away along with my - Tom’s - wallet.


        “Don’t tell her,” I said to Buddy as he looked on. “I just want to … it’s just in case.”


        Just in case what? I asked myself. In case you turn back into a human? In case you come across someone you know and have to prove who you are?


        I giggled humorlessly at that last bit - “No really, see I have his driver’s license, this proves I’m him” - and this time I’m 99% certain I saw the dog cast a sarcastic look my way.


        All in all, I ended up with five bags of stuff. A lot of it was useful things like radios, kitchenware, and tools; some of it was mementos like I mentioned above, and some of it was just stuff I thought might come in handy somehow. I was a scout; being prepared was drilled into me from a young age. And when you needed something, odds are you’d need it again, so make sure you have it.


        “Thanks for leaving a couple of towels,” Swift said, coming down the hallway from the bathroom. She had one in her magic grip, rubbing it against her hide to dry it, and one wrapped around her mane.


        “That’s a decidedly human trait,” I said, nodding towards her head-towel.


        “Says you,” she smirked back. “For all you know all sentient species do this.”


        “Whatever,” I said. I turned back to the pile of stuff on the floor. “I could use some help with some of this.”


        “Whoa. Traveling light, are we?” she joked.


        “Out of everything in this house,” I said, waving a foreleg around, “this is what I consider my worldly possessions worth keeping. Cut me some slack.”


        “I know, I’m just teasing. Hold still a second, I want to see if I can do something.”


        “What now?” I said, half-fearing what was about to happen. To my relief, it was as mundane as magically lifting two bags and tying their straps together, then hanging them over my back like saddle bags.


        “Oh, so I’m a pack mule now?” I retorted.


        “It is your stuff,” Swift pointed out.


        So, with two backpacks on my back and my ‘secret’ duffel’s handles held between my teeth, I led the three of us out of the bungalow my grandparents had built in 1948 and towards my new life.


        Swift opened the tailgate of the truck and let Buddy get in first, then levitated the two bags she was carrying in, followed by aiding me with the three I had. She went around the passenger side of the truck after helping me up into the driver’s seat.


        “Ready?” she asked me.


        I stared at the dark and empty house.


        “No,” I murmured. “But it’s time.”


        Starting the engine, I backed the SUV out from under the tree and drove up the driveway.



MAY 28



        I decided to get an early start on the day, since it - and the days to follow - was going to be filled with back-breaking work to get some power back to our new home.


        The first and easiest thing to do, while we sourced more renewable projects, was to use the gas and diesel generators that were on sale in the various places all around us. Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Lowe’s, and Canadian Tire would have made a killing off me, if only there was still a concept of money. Especially since I ‘acquired’ a little flatbed trailer for behind the SUV to haul my, well, haul back to the homestead.


        Another fire inspector’s nightmare of extension cables ensured the noise - and worse yet, exhaust fumes - were far enough away from us to be able to be ignored. I dragged the final cable up to the electronics section between my teeth, and let it fall to the ground. I had a specific thing I wanted to test out our power on, because it’s something I’d been craving ever since the Internet packed it in (and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I was cleaning out my house).


        Over to my supplies I went and extracted an oversized green padded binder. Taking it back to the electronics section, I unzipped it, flipped through the pages with a hoof, and then very gingerly, with my nose, coerced an item out of a sleeve, praying to avoid causing any more scratches than the ages-old item already had on it.


        While balancing the item on my nose, because I’d forgotten to plug in the power beforehand and I didn’t want to set it down while I did so, I forced the connectors together with my forehooves, lighting up a display and then lighting up my face with a grin.


        Very carefully I set the CD down in a tray and let it be drawn into the disc player. When the disc was recognized by the player, I tapped the track seek button until the one I wanted was cued up, and then hit play.


        A couple of drum beats later, electric guitar began blasting through the electronics section of Casa Wal-Mart. At 6:36 AM.


        Ahhh, I sighed to myself, sitting down before the speakers, shutting my eyes, and smiling. I wish I’d thought of this sooner. Then again, ‘the cloud’ has evaporated, and all my music is gone.


        Listening to the piece carry on, my thoughts drifted. Did you turn into a pony, Eddie? If you did, I bet you couldn’t do this any more. That’d be a true crime against humanity. Or pony-ity. Ponydom? Ponyness?


        “What are you doing??” Swift half-groaned-half-mumbled as she staggered sleepily over towards the electronics section.


        “Oh. Shit! Sorry!” I squeaked, and turned the volume knob down. “I forgot it was so early. I just wanted to make sure my power solution was- ...Wait.”


        I stared at her as she stared back at me with low-lidded eyes, a nonplussed expression on her face. Buddy wandered over to see what the fuss was about as well.


        “I woke you up?” I asked her.


        “No, I was mini-golfing,” she snarked back at me.


        I grinned. “I woke you up.” I jumped at her and pointed with my hoof, first at myself, then at her. “I woke you up! Hah! So there, sorceress!”


        She rolled her eyes and turned around to walk away, muttering something about tying me to the rafters later.


        “I woke you u-up,” I said in a quiet little singsong voice, hopping from pair of hooves to other pair of hooves, dancing around in a circle. “I woke you u-up, for a change it wasn’t me-e, getting roused from slee-eep, I woke you u-up!”


        “Laugh it up, featherbrain,” came a fading voice from towards the kitchen area.


        I giggled and turned around to get back to work on the power problem. Buddy had become disinterested in our little fracas and went over to inspect the ham radio on its cart.


        “Oh crap! I probably should have plugged that in first, shouldn’t I’ve?” I said to him. He just looked at me and then went to follow the antenna cable, probably out of curiosity than anything else (far as I know, he hadn’t really explored the place yet).


        I pulled the plug on the music and dragged the cord over to the ham radio stack. Unplugging it from the dead wall socket, I plugged it into the generator’s cord, and heard the radio across the aisle chirp as it powered up.


        As I trotted back towards it, hoping I wouldn’t find a surprise retaliatory twig or rock in whatever Swift was preparing for breakfast, I heard sounds coming from the radio and quirked an eyebrow. Odd. I would have figured I’d have had to re-do the distress call after power was interrupted.


        Then I realized they weren’t sounds that either Swift or I could make. Not at this point.


        I galloped to the radio and cranked the volume, holding onto it from both sides afterward as if it was a balloon that’d float off if I let it go.


        “-pect to be at your point in another 24 to 36 hours. I’m on ...foot, so it’s slow going. I hope your silence is just that the power gave out and that you haven’t left. ...Or worse. If you get this, please answer back. I heard your call, and I’m the only ...person I’ve seen for days.” The voice cracked. “Please give me a sign that you’re out there. ...All right then, I’m shutting down to save battery. I’ll turn on again at quarter-to again. I hope you hear me then.”