07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

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“You’ve been fed and taken care of as best as we can manage,” Meredith said, looking at all the
taut, frightened young faces turned toward her in the basement. “And now there’s just one thing I want
to ask of you in return.” She made an effort and steadied her voice. “I want to know if anybody knows
of a mobile phone that connects to the Internet, or a computer that is still working. Please, please—if
you even think you know where one might be, tell me.”
The tension was like a thick rubber cord, dragging Meredith toward each of the pale,
strained faces, dragging them to her.
It was just as well that Meredith was essentially well-balanced. About twelve hands
went up immediately, and their lone five-year-old whispered, “My mommy has one. And my daddy.”
There was a pause before Meredith could say, “Does anybody know this kid?” and an
older girl spoke up before she could.
“She just means they had them before the Burning Man.”
“Is the Burning Man called Shinichi?” Meredith asked.
“’Course. Sometimes he would make the red parts of his hair burn up way over his
head.”
Meredith filed that little fact away under Things I do not want to see, honest, cross my
heart, ever.
Then she shook herself free from the image.
“You guys and girls, please, please think. I only need one, one mobile phone with
Internet access that still has power right now. One laptop or computer that is still working now,
maybe because of a generator still making electricity. Just one family with a home generator still
working. Anybody?”
The hands were down now. A boy she thought she recognized as being one of the Loring
siblings, maybe age ten or eleven, said, “The Burning Man told us that mobile phones and computers
were bad. That was why my brother got in a fistfight with my dad. He threw all the mobiles at home
in the toilet.”
“Okay. Okay, thanks. But anybody who’s seen a working mobile or computer? Or a home
generator—”
“Why, yes, my dear, I’ve got one.” The voice came from the top of the stairs. Mrs.
Flowers was standing there, dressed in a fresh sweat suit. Strangely, she had her voluminous purse in
her hand.
“You had—have a generator?” Meredith asked, her heart sinking. What a waste! And if