One Second After by William R. Forstchen

playing tag. Several grills were set up, food cooking on them.
    He slowed as he spotted someone standing down by the road, her arms folded, just gazing off towards the mountains. He pulled up, again a bit uncomfortable with how many people turned at the sight of his car.
    The woman looked at him. There was a flicker of recognition.
    â€œMa’am, I owe you an apology.”
    â€œI think you do.”
    She was still dressed in her business suit, but the high heels were gone, replaced with a battered pair of sneakers.
    He opened the door and got out and extended his hand.
    â€œLook, seriously, I apologize. I had my kids with me, my mother-in-law, and frankly . . .” He hesitated.
    She relented and extended her hand and took his.
    â€œSure; I understand. Guess I’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.”
    â€œJohn Matherson.”
    â€œMakala Turner.”
    â€œCurious name.”
    â€œMy granddad was stationed in Hawaii during the war. Said it was a flower there. Talked my dad into using the name.”
    John couldn’t help but let his eyes drift for a second. She was tall, even without her heels on. Five ten or so, slender, blond hair to shoulder length, top two buttons of her blouse unbuttoned.
    It was just the quickest of glances, but he knew she was watching. Strange. If you don’t check an attractive woman out, even for a second, it’s an insult; if you do, there might be a cold, icy stare.
    She smiled slightly.
    â€œWhere you from?” John asked.
    â€œCharlotte. Supervising nurse for a cardiac surgical unit. Was coming up here to attend a conference at Memorial Mission Hospital on a new procedure for heart arrhythmias.
    â€œNow, could you do me a favor and tell me just what the hell is going on?”
    â€œThat reminds me,” John said. “Look, I’ve got to do something right now. Will you be here in ten minutes?”
    â€œSure.”
    He got back into the car, hesitated, and looked at her.
    â€œI’m heading to the drugstore right now. I need to get something. If you want, you can come along.”
    She didn’t move.
    â€œI’m not trying to pick you up or anything. Really. I got to get some medication for my daughter. Just I can answer your questions while I drive.”
    â€œOK. Don’t seem to be going anywhere else.”
    It was only several more blocks to the shopping plaza with Ingram’s market and the CVS drugstore. The parking lot was nearly full, but no one was about.
    He got out and looked at the drugstore, disappointed; it was dark. Damn, it must be closed, but then he realized the absurdity of that; all the stores were dark.
    â€œI think it was EMP, like I just said,” John said, continuing their brief conversation.
    â€œHad the same thought.”
    â€œWhy?”
    She smiled.
    â€œI help run a surgical unit. We had a lot of disaster drills, especially since nine-eleven. We did a scenario on that one, EMP. It wasn’t pleasant. Kept me awake thinking for nights afterwards. Hospitals aren’t hardened to absorb it; the emergency backup generators will blow out along with everything else, and you know what that means.”
    â€œYou’ll have to tell me more later on,” John said. He pulled on the door and it swung open.
    Inside was a minor bedlam, a harried clerk behind the counter shouting, “Please, everyone, it is cash only. I’m sorry, no checks. . . .”
    John walked past her to the back of the store and the pharmacist counter. One of the regulars was there, Rachel, her daughter was one of Elizabeth’s friends. One of a line of a dozen people, a heavyset man in his early forties, bit of a tacky suit, tie pulled down and half open, was at the counter.
    â€œListen to me!” he shouted at Rachel. “I need that prescription filled now, god damn it.”
    â€œAnd sir. I keep trying to tell you, I’m sorry, but we don’t know you, we