Dawn's Light

  Rowe, Amber — twenty-five, the Brannings’ other next-door neighbor. Her husband left her two weeks before the outage with three children under three, and she’s having a terrible time managing. The Brannings try to help her as much as they can.

  PROLOGUE

  ON MAY 24, CIVILIZATION AS WE KNOW IT COMES TO AN end. Plumbing doesn’t work because the water treatment plants run on electricity. Trucks and trains don’t run, so stores run out of food. Generators are rendered useless. In this major meltdown of life, people are stranded where they are, with no transportation, no power, and no communication. Crime runs rampant as evil fills the void, and desperation becomes the only moral guide many people recognize.

  Eventually, word makes its way to Crockett, Alabama, that the event was caused by a star — a supernova named SN – 1999 — which is emitting electromagnetic pulses every few seconds. With no assurance of when the star might burn itself out and allow them to rebuild, people are left with a choice: will they hoard what they have until it all runs out, or will they share with those around them who are in need?

  The Brannings, an upper-middle-class Christian family, who pride themselves on their righteousness, respond like everyone else at first: they hole up at home, hoarding their food, paranoid that interacting with others will force them to share the few provisions they have. The children are angry that their lives have been disrupted. They’re bored without visual and audio entertainment. Deni, the twenty-two-year-old, is frustrated that she won’t be able to get to Washington to start her new job and be with her fiancé, who lives there.

  When Doug Branning finally comes to grips with the fact that this is not going to end soon, he breaks down before God, realizing that he’s not equipped to function without technology. How will he support his family? How will he provide food? How will they survive? As he struggles to find answers, he begins to realize that God has a purpose for him and his family through this trial. People around him have great needs — physical and spiritual. The Brannings begin to understand that they have much to learn, and much to give.

  When Deni’s eyes open to the true character of Craig Martin, her fiancé, she breaks her engagement. She’s begun to fall in love with Mark Green, a high school friend who lives in her neighborhood. But Mark is the son of a convicted killer, and when a neighbor is shot by an unknown assailant, people assume that Mark committed the crime. He’s thrown into a dark and broken prison system. Deni and her family help to find the true killer and clear his name. As they do, Deni sees Mark’s noble acts of forgiveness toward those who persecuted him, and falls more deeply in love with him.

  The blackout continues for a year, and the Brannings learn to work together to survive, until God gives them their ultimate test . . .

  ONE

  BETH BRANNING SAT ON HER BIKE A BLOCK UP THE STREET from Alabama Bank and Trust and watched the hungry mob waiting in the rain. The violent May thunderstorm pounded and cracked like special effects on a Hollywood set, drenching those who waited to get their money. If her parents saw her they would freak. It was no place for a thirteen-year-old, they would say.

  Even from a block away, she could feel the tension and thrill of those who would go from poverty to plenty in a matter of minutes. Armed deputies surrounded this bank and all the others in Crockett, along with the few running vehicles in town — sheriff’s department patrol cars, ambulances, fire trucks. Clearly, they expected violence. The banks had been closed since the power outage began a year ago, crushing the economy and leaving even Beth’s family poor. With the poor and homeless so desperate, no one with cash would be safe today.

  The newspaper warehouse was on the other side of Crockett, so she turned her bike around, careful not to tip the bike trailer she pulled. Rain or shine, she had to deliver papers. Raindrops pricked her skin, soaked her softball jersey, and made her shiver. It would take longer to prepare her stacks today, since she’d have to wrap the papers in plastic to keep them from getting wet. She might as well get it done.

  As she turned the corner onto a less populated road, a bolt of lightning flashed in front of her, thunder cracking instantly. Her heart kicked through her chest.

  People got struck by lightning riding bicycles all the time. A great-uncle of hers had been fishing in a boat when lightning struck him dead. She had to get to shelter. She looked around for a safe place to wait it out, and saw the Cracker Barrel up ahead. It, too, had been closed for a year — since the power outage began — but its rustic porch would shelter her until the storm passed.

  She pulled her bike onto the parking lot and rolled it up toward the porch, wishing they’d left their famous rocking chairs out. Lightning burst and thunder crashed again, making her jump.

  Her clothes were soaked, and beads of water ran from her long blonde curls into her eyes. She shivered, wishing she’d listened to her parents. There were probably tornados coming, and the winds would pick her up and blow her away, like Dorothy and Toto.

  Leaving her bike and trailer in the rain, she sat on the porch floor. Hugging her wet knees, she heard a sound from somewhere behind the building. A garbled cry, a muttered curse.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  She sprang up and crept to the end of the porch.

  “Please . . . I’ll give you the money!”

  Her breath caught in her lungs as she peered around the side of the building.

  Two men — one on his knees, facing her. The other stood behind him, holding a revolver to the kneeling man’s head.

  Beth’s knees went weak, and she crouched, making herself smaller. The man with the gun wore a black raincoat with the hood pulled up. She couldn’t see his face. But the one on his knees looked young — no more than twenty-five. His wet hair strung into eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  She watched, frozen, as the gunman bent and pulled a stack of bills out of the other man’s pocket. He shoved it into his, then cocked the pistol against the back of his victim’s head.

  The gun went off . . . . the victim thudded forward.

  Beth’s scream drew the killer’s cold gaze.

  Get away! Get help! She lunged for her bike, picked it up. Her necklace caught on the handlebars, breaking the chain. The cross pendant fell, and the bike tumbled into the mud. She heard pounding footsteps behind her — no time to right the bike. She would have to run.

  As she leaped over it, the gun fired again. Hot wind whizzed past her calf, and she fell over the bike, flipping quickly onto her back to defend herself. She screamed again as the killer came closer, aiming for her chest.

  She raised her hands to cover her face. “I won’t tell!” she squealed. “I didn’t see anything! Please . . .”

  His eyes were piercing, death staring her down. His finger curled over the trigger.

  Lightning exploded again, hitting a nearby tree. Thunder cracked like an axe . . . or another gunshot. From the edge of her vision, she saw movement. A man with a chest-long beard and a dirty T-shirt came out of nowhere and tackled the killer, knocking off his aim.

  Beth scrambled to her feet and grabbed her bike. She heard the grunts of the two men wrestling for the gun as she leaped onto the seat. Standing on the pedals to move the weight of the trailer, she felt the bike’s tires slide in the mud.

  As she reached the street, the gun went off again. She looked back. Her rescuer had fallen. The killer leaped over his body, aimed his gun at her.

  Her bike slid again, and she fell. He fired again, missing.

  She righted the bike and pumped the wheels, putting distance between them before he pulled the trigger again.

  “You say a word, and I’ll kill you and your family, Beth,” he shouted after her. “I know where you live!”

  Shivering, she realized her name was on the back of her jersey. Why had she worn it? Why had she even come out today? He must know her family — her father and mother, her sister or brothers. Flying for her life, Beth rode toward home, praying the man wasn’t following her.

  TWO

  K
AY BRANNING HAD MADE UP HER MIND — IF SHE HAD TO fight for her cash, she could do it. She’d waited a year to get her hands on her family’s assets, and even though the banks were only authorized to give out two percent of each account’s holdings each month, that would still net them nine hundred dollars today. And given the collapsed economy — and the rock-bottom prices — nine hundred dollars was almost a fortune.

  Thieves were expected to come out of the woodwork today, but no guns were allowed inside the ropes surrounding the bank’s property, except those held by law enforcement officers. Before Kay and the rest of the bank’s customers could even get into the line that snaked Disney-style through the parking lot and out into the street, they went through a pat-down for concealed weapons. Thankfully, Kay’s husband, Doug, was an armed deputy standing guard over the crowd, so at least the Brannings had a shot at getting their money home safely. Others had family members waiting outside the perimeter, armed and ready to escort them home.

  The doors had opened two hours before, though Kay had stood in line for three hours before that. Already, thirteen people had been arrested trying to smuggle weapons past the ropes. Thirteen bank robberies averted. So far, no bullets had been fired, but the day was young.

  Kay stood under her umbrella watching the door, waiting for those in the bank to clear out so another group could go in. Hank Huckabee, her neighbor, came out smiling like a lottery winner.

  Deni, Kay’s twenty-three-year-old daughter, stood near the sheriff’s van, juggling her umbrella and her notepad as she interviewed a man who’d just given the teller a bloody lip. He sat in handcuffs with the other lawbreakers in the van, whining out his story as if Deni were the judge. Deni was too gutsy for her own good, but Kay knew better than to interfere in her daughter’s work. Deni would kill her if she pulled mother rank. Instead, she caught Doug’s eye, mouthed, “Your daughter,” and gestured toward the van.

  Picking up on her concerns, Doug stepped closer to the van. But Mark Green — Deni’s boyfriend who was also a volunteer deputy — had beaten him there. He stood with his department-issued rifle ready, not intruding on the interview, but making sure that Deni was safe.

  Doug winked at Kay, and she nodded that Deni was fine. They could count on Mark to keep her safe.

  “You are not getting this money!”

  Kay turned at the sound of the anxious voice. Her next-door neighbor Amber Rowe stood two rows away in the roped-off maze, shoving her estranged husband away.

  “You can’t have it, Mike! It’s not fair. I have three children to support!”

  “It’s my money. I earned it.”

  Kay might have known the jerk would show up now, after abandoning Amber and their three babies a year ago, right before the outage. He’d moved in with another woman, and since then had done nothing to help his own family survive.

  “I earned it too — raising your babies!” Raging indignation tightened her wet face. “You don’t have any paperwork! They won’t let you have it.”

  “I’m your husband,” he bit out. “Your paperwork is my paperwork.”

  “I’ll fight you for it! So help me — ”

  Kay caught Doug’s attention again, and gestured toward Amber.

  Kay could tell from Doug’s expression that he took Amber’s situation as personally as Kay did. Kay and Doug had spent the last year helping the abandoned family survive. They’d both considered hunting the deadbeat down and dragging him back home. But they’d figured Amber had enough children to care for.

  Doug crossed the parking lot to the man who had once been their neighbor. Taking his shoulder, he said, “Hey, pal. Long time no see.”

  “Don’t start with me, Doug,” Mike said, shaking him off. “I just want my money.”

  Doug nodded. “So how do you want to split it?”

  Mike’s lips stretched tight over his teeth. “I’m not splitting it. I made every penny of it. She hasn’t earned a cent.”

  “Sounds fair,” Doug said. “By the way, you’re up to date on your child support, right?”

  Mike stiffened. “I don’t have to pay child support. We’re not divorced.”

  “Does your girlfriend know that?”

  Mike bristled and looked around at the disapproving stares. “Why don’t you stay out of this? It’s between me and my wife.”

  “Why?” Doug asked, getting nose to nose with him. “I’ll tell you why, my friend. Because Kay and I have been helping your wife take care of your children for a year now. You remember your children, don’t you? Three toddlers with a dad who abandoned them during the worst crisis in history?”

  Mike’s teeth came together. “She threw me out before the outage,” he said, as if that made it better.

  Amber’s jaw dropped. “What? I did not!”

  Mike’s declaration ignited something in Kay’s heart. She knew the real story. Amber would have forgiven him and taken him back at any point along the way. Kay had even kept the children twice while Amber suffered the indignity of going to Mike’s girlfriend’s house and begging him to come back. He’d refused.

  And now he was here, trying to take the money Amber needed to feed her children. No, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Amber was crying now. “I never threw you out. I needed you despite what you’d done, and everybody knows that.”

  Doug took Mike’s arm. “Come on, pal. Let her get the money, and you two can negotiate later.”

  Mike’s teeth came together. “Don’t make me hurt you, Doug.”

  “I’m sorry,” Doug said. “Did I hear you right? Are you threatening a law enforcement officer?”

  The line moved up. Kay was almost to the front — the next group to go in. If she could just get Amber into the bank to withdraw her money before Mike could get to the window . . . Ninety-eight percent of their account would still be there to fight over in court. But almost a hundred people stood in line between Kay’s place and Amber’s.

  Kay called back, “Amber, come up here.”

  Amber looked at her. “I can’t, Kay. I’ll lose my spot.”

  “You’re taking my spot.”

  Rain pounded harder, a stark percussion to the day’s events. “I can’t do that.”

  “Amber, get up here now!” Kay cried.

  Amber scurried out of the line, her umbrella clashing with those around her, and ducked under the ropes.

  The man who’d waited hours behind Kay protested. “She can’t bust in front of the rest of us!” he shouted. “Lady,” he said to Amber, “I feel for you, having a dog like that for a husband, but nobody is cutting in front of me. I’ve been here for five hours!”

  “It’s okay,” Kay said. “I’ll go take her spot. We’re trading.”

  Mike stepped over the ropes, pushing between people to follow Amber. “I’m coming with her!”

  Doug blocked him. “My wife only gave up one spot. You heard the man. No one else in front of him.”

  Mike shoved him. “You’re crazy!”

  “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that.” Doug pulled his handcuffs off his belt. “You’ve just assaulted a sheriff’s deputy.” He snapped a cuff on Mike’s wrist. Mike jerked his arm back, and Doug twisted him around. “And there you go, resisting arrest.”

  The people in line around them applauded as Doug dragged Mike to the sheriff’s van, where several others in handcuffs waited.

  But Amber was still upset. “How could he do that? Doesn’t he care anything about his children?”

  Kay put her arm around her and pulled her hood up to keep the rain off. Amber was young enough to be one of Kay’s children, and she’d done a valiant job trying to keep food on the table. She’d worked alongside the rest of them, planting food in their front lawns, raising rabbits and chickens, and chopping wood.

  “Don’t worry about him. Doug will stall him until you get the cash, and then you can ride home with us. Doug will escort us. Nobody’s taking your money.”

  Amber’s distressed gaze followed Mike to the van. “I don?
??t want him in jail, though. He’s my children’s father.”

  “Hush now,” Kay whispered, forcing Amber to look at her. “They probably won’t hold him long.”

  “Maybe I should give him some of it. I don’t want him to hate me.”

  It was clear that Amber still loved her husband. The pain of his abandonment had run deep, and she hadn’t gotten over it. “You can decide that later,” Kay said. “Or let a judge decide. But right now, you need to go in there and get your money.”

  “But now you’ll have to wait hours longer to get your own money. It’s not fair.”

  Impatience sharpened Kay’s tone. “Mike getting your money — that’s what wouldn’t be fair. I can handle a little inconvenience.”

  As soon as Kay was sure she’d calmed Amber down, she followed the line back to take Amber’s place. Her gaze scanned the hundreds of people in a line that snaked through the parking lot and across the four lanes of highway in front of the bank. She hoped she got her money before dark.

  Lightning flashed and thunder cracked a few seconds later. Of all days to have to stand in the elements.

  She wished she’d told the kids not to deliver their papers today. She’d rather they were hunkered inside, out of the storm.

  The line moved forward, and she watched as the guards at the door let the next twelve in. Amber got inside. Kay glanced at the sheriff’s van. Mike was still trying to talk his way out of the handcuffs.

  THREE

  “YOU ARE SO LYING, DUDE. AND IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY.” Jeff Branning sat backward in a straight-back chair, arms folded on the back.

  His friend Zach had been lying on Jeff’s bed, arms crossed behind his head. But now he sat up. “I’m not lying, man. My dad would know.”

  Jeff got up, shaking his head skeptically. “So he told you the Pulses are getting weaker? Are you sure he wasn’t yanking your chain?”

  “He was dead serious.”