Page 4 of Tara's Warriors

Tara shot out of her seat, Mel not far behind, as they ran down the steps to where Jillian stared at the sky.

“Jesus Christmas, child,” Tara said as she slapped a hand over Jillian’s eyes. “You’re going to blind yourself staring up at the sun like that.”

“It’s okay,” Jillian said pulling at Tara’s hand. “It’s so pretty!”

Tara looked up, wondering what the big deal was. When she caught a glimpse of the horizon, she sucked in a harsh breath.

The sky was full of rainbows. Arching, dipping, shimmering ribbons of light danced through the sky on an invisible breeze.

She probably would have stood there burning her eyes out if Jillian hadn’t wiggled away. “It’s so pretty!”

Tearing her gaze from the sky, Tara forced herself to focus. “It is, but we can’t look directly up. Instead, look right above the trees in that direction, so you’re not staring at the sun.”

Jillian did, and once Tara was sure she was okay, she gave Mel’s hand a tug.

The other woman rubbed her eyes as she looked down at the ground. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is, but what is it?”

“Looks like the northern lights.” Camila, a stunning black member of their crew and a high school science teacher, said from behind them. “Like something hasreallydisrupted the ionosphere.” She must have caught their blank look because she explained. “It’s a layer of the atmosphere made of electrons and electrically charged atoms and molecules that surrounds the Earth. I’m thinking maybe it was a massive, never-before-seen-by-man solar flare, maybe? It’s hard to say for sure, but that would explain why all the electrical systems got fried. Nobody’s car will start, all our phones are out, but a few people’s smart watches still work. Almost like a huge EMP washed over the world.”

Tara had heard of EMP’s before, and she sucked in a terrified breath. “What if it was an attack? Lacey mentioned learning about different types of attacks we may face in the future in one of her Army classes. Could it have been an EMP attack? Could we be at war?”

Camila shook her head, her black dreads with their golden beaded ends clicking. “No, nothing that I know of could generate a reaction like that in our atmosphere. It had to be from the outside coming in, not the other way around.”

Mel gave a shaky laugh as she glanced back at her bus. “You know, when the dealer told me the backup generator was shielded against EMP attacks, I thought he was joking. Now? I’m really fu—” She glanced at Jillian, who still stared raptly at the skyline above the trees. “I’m really fudging hoping he was telling the truth.”

“What should we do?” Tara asked. She scanned the small rise toward the bulk of the camp and took note of some truly angry, worried looking people.

Mel followed her gaze and frowned. “Let’s pull everyone in. Cluster the tents around the bus, get everyone close. With none of the cars working, and the closest town a good ten miles away, I don’t want anyone wandering off by themselves. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“Good call.” Tara lowered her voice. “We’ve got a lot of off duty police and firemen here, but I’d still feel better if we were all in one place.”

“Maybe it was just regional,” Mel said in a hopeful voice. “Maybe most of the country is okay, and they’ll send help.”

“Maybe,” Camila echoed as she glanced at the sky. “Just in case, let’s get our supplies together and see what we have. We might be here for a few days without help.”

“Right, right.” Tara mentally went through how many cases of water she’d brought, along with a variety of snacks. “Okay, Camila can you stay here with Mel? I’ll take Jillian and gather our people up.”

“You got it,” Camila said. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

Seven hours later, a cheer went up as the sodium lights glowed bright in the stables and along the edges of the parking lot.

“Oh, thank God,” Melissa said. “Thank you sweet baby Jesus and let there be light.”

“Amen,” Tara added in heartfelt relief.

“Damnit,” Camila snarled from nearby. “We almost got this bitch working!”

Tara turned to find her friend handing a twenty-dollar bill to a smug-looking, gray bearded, overall-clad man in his mid-fifties.

Larry, the owner of the farm that housed the Renaissance Festival, took her money with a tense grin. “Told you my boys would get the barn generator running before you got this fancy piece of shit going.”

“Hey, now!” Ben, Camila’s husband, yelled from inside the bus. “It’s not my fault some fucking moron wired this unnecessarily complicated NASA engineered battery all wrong. Or that I have to try and fix this hot bag of monkey crap without a manual!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Larry said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna see if I can get me some of Martha’s fine stew. You and yours are more than welcome to join us. Got plenty for everyone. Martha decided to cook up half the meat in the freezer so it wouldn’t spoil.”

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