The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid by Scott B. Williams Page B

was telling you about when I left here to take that Beneteau to Trinidad? Well, we were halfway through the passage when the lights went out. What about you, did you see anything when it happened?”
    “You know a mon not supposed to be up all de night’cept when he navigating on de boat. No, I an’ I sleepin’ when dem seh dey seen de flashin’ lights. Only in de mornin’ when I put on de radio an’ de music don’t play, I t’ink somet’ing hoppen. But I got work to do on de boat an’ not to worry, until later in de mornin’ when I try de drill press…an’ she don’t turn. Den I check de cable…and den try de saw. No juice to de shop an’ no light shinin’, so den I paddle to de town an’ find same t’ing everywhere in de island. No mon he can seh what is de reason, but some of dem talkin’ of de lights in de night sky. An’ some of dem say dat mehbe it’s de sun gonna burn up, or mehbe it’s some nuclear missiles fired up by de evil dictators in Bobbylon. But I seh Jah, he strike de Earth wid his mighty hand, ’cause he is displeased wid all dis desecration of his creation.”
    Artie could barely understand what Scully was saying. He was obviously speaking English, but in some strange West Indian dialect that was so foreign it almost sounded like another language. Larry obviously understood him perfectly, though, despite how fast he was talking.
    “You’ve been saying that for years, Scully,” Larry said. “But whatever it was, as far as we know it’s widespread. In St. Thomas, everything’s out. Have you heard any news from anywhere else beyond here?”
    “Some mon comin’ on de sailboat from Fajardo yesterday. He seh all de lights dem dark on Puerto Rico. Lights dem don’t work. Cars dem won’t go. Bus too, an’ de planes dem can’t fly. He seh he comin’ to Culebra because he afraid to stay on Puerto Rico. T’ree million people an’ dem got not’ing to eat on dat island.”
    “Yeah, Puerto Rico would not be the place to be about now, just like I told Artie about St. Thomas. I guess a lot of people from over on the main island will be coming here and to Vieques too when it gets bad, but only those who have sailboats or some kind of old, really basic engines will have a way to get here.”
    “So wot you gonna do, Copt’n? You t’inkin’ to put dis boat in de watah?”
    “We’ve got to, Scully. Sailing is the only way to go. Artie has no way to get home, and he can’t stay here, because Casey is in New Orleans. We’ve got to sail there and try to find her. We need your help, Scully. We’re sailing to the States.”
    “New Orlean? Dat’s in Bobbylon, mon! America de very place dat displease Jah so much he shut off de lights all over de world. A mon not supposed to be sailin’ to dat place in de end time like dis.”
    “Maybe not, but we can’t leave Casey there. What else have you got to do, Scully? You always said Jah was going to destroy Babylon anyway. Maybe now you can see it for yourself. We don’t plan on hanging around after we find Casey. I figure things are going to get real bad up there if the power stays off long enough, too many people who won’t know what in the hell to do. It’s bound to get ugly. But if we get going fast, we hope we can find Casey quickly and get the hell back south to St. Somewhere, where there’s not so damned many people.”
    Scully looked out over the harbor and then back to the disassembled catamaran in the shed. He pushed his long dreads back over his shoulder and reached out to shake both Artie and Larry’s hands. “Okay. I t’ink it’s crazy but if you goin’, I goin’ too. Can’t leave a girl like Casey in dat evil place. We need get her on de boat and wid she friend too. Nice girls dem, and need to bring dem bok to de island. But dis boat she can’t sail like dis.”
    “Absolutely, Scully. So let’s get to work so we can go!”

FOUR
     
    WHEN THE TWILIGHT FADED away in New Orleans, the blacked-out city was darker