Chosen - Christine Pope (mobile ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“I think so. I’ve read over the instructions a few times. Good thing I learned to solder in my shop class in high school.”

And here I’d thought all we’d have to do was install the antenna on the roof, run some wire, and voilà, we’d be chatting it up with survivors around the globe. I should have known nothing would be that easy.

But he got to it in earnest after that, producing a ladder from the garage and climbing up to the roof, then letting me hand the antenna up to him from a point midway on the same ladder. I had to loiter there for some time, waiting so I could catch the bundle of coaxial cable as he tossed it to me once one end had been attached to the antenna. After he was done on the roof, Jace came down and fastened the wire to the exterior wall of the house with a series of brackets.

“I can handle it from here,” he told me. “You’d better go inside — your lips are starting to turn blue.”

“They are not,” I protested, although truthfully, it was fairly cold outside, probably only a few degrees above freezing.

“I can see them. You can’t.” He grinned at me. “Really, I’ve got this. Isn’t it around time for you to be starting dinner anyway?”

“Chained to the stove, just like I thought,” I remarked, but I leavened the tartness of my words by giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t stay out so long that your lips start to turn blue.”

“I won’t.”

I had to be satisfied with that, so I went in the house and started rummaging around in the kitchen. Outside, the daylight slanted its way toward dusk, and before it got full dark, I heard Jace come inside, although he seemed to go straight to the office rather than stopping in the kitchen to check on the ETA for dinner. Since I was making quickie rabbit stew that didn’t really need babysitting, as it was now in the “let it sit in the pot until you’re ready to eat it” stage, I headed back to the office, where I found Jace under the table we’d designated as the ham radio workstation.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” came his voice, somewhat muffled, since he was facing the wall. “Just need to make this last connection.”

Since I really didn’t have anything better to do, I leaned against the doorframe and waited as he wrenched on something. A few minutes and a couple of muffled curses later, he was pushing himself out from beneath the table and getting to his feet.

“I think that should be it.”

“So let’s fire it up and see if we can find anything.”

He set down the screwdriver he was holding and crossed his arms. “We don’t have to rush into this, you know.”

“After you just spent all afternoon working on it?” I said, both perplexed and irritated by his reluctance to use the radio. “If you didn’t think it was a good idea, then why waste so much time and effort on it?”

“I’m not saying that,” he replied, digging in his pocket for another of those interminable leather cords so he could pull his hair out of his face. I wondered why he hadn’t done that earlier, but maybe having his hair down on his neck had helped to keep him warm while he was up working on the roof.

“Then what are you saying?” I crossed my arms and tried hard not to scowl. “I guess I just can’t figure out why you’re so reluctant to even attempt to find other survivors, especially since we wouldn’t be talking to them, just scanning to see if there is even anyone else out there.”

A long pause. I could tell from the way his mouth tightened and he didn’t quite look at me that he wasn’t particularly eager to explain himself. Maybe not, but I wasn’t about to let this go.

Finally, he jammed his hands into his jeans pockets and said, “All right, what if we listen in and find some survivors, then decide they sound all right and that we should reach out to them? What if they turn out to not be all right?”

“‘Not all right’ as in…what?” I asked, wondering what he was driving at. I tried to think of the worst-case scenario and added, “Like, cannibals or something?”

A grim smile touched his lips. “No, I don’t think cannibalism is going to be an issue, not with all the wild game to be had around here. More like….” The words died away, and he hesitated again. “More like, what if they turn out to be a bunch of good old boys who aren’t exactly thrilled to find an Indian shacked up with a white girl?”

I stared at him. “That’s….” I’d been about to say, That’s ridiculous, but then I realized maybe it wasn’t. It should have been, but…I’d seen enough ugly incidents involving my friend Elena to know prejudice wasn’t exactly a thing of the past, even for someone who was beautiful and talented and came from a family with money. The worst incident had been at a frat party in college, when some drunk asshole told her, “Hey, chiquita, you’re pretty hot. Why don’t you come over here and suck my chalupa?” Luckily, Tori was standing right there and responded by dumping her cup of cheap keg beer over the guy’s head, but I’d never forgotten that scene. I knew Elena hadn’t, either, even though she’d blown it off at the time, telling us the guy was too wasted to know what he was saying. That wasn’t true, though…he’d known exactly what he was saying. And so had she, despite trying to act as if it was no big deal.

So as much as I wanted to brush off Jace’s concerns as being completely unfounded, I knew they weren’t. Just because the calendar said it was the twenty-first century, it didn’t mean that everyone had gotten the memo.

And while intellectually I could understand where he was coming from, I knew I’d never be able to feel that doubt, those misgivings, the way he did, because I’d come from a completely different world. I was a white girl. Sure, I had a Ute great-great-grandmother — if the family legend was even true — but that didn’t mean I could relate to his experiences as someone who’d grown up on the pueblo, who’d come at life in twenty-first-century America from a completely different angle than I had.

“So you see what I mean,” he said quietly.

“Yes.” His expression brightened a little at that, and I went on, “But…can’t we just try it to see if it works? No one will know we’re doing that if we don’t transmit anything, right?”

At least he didn’t try to equivocate. “No, no one will know that we’re listening in. If there’s even anything to listen to. But we’ll give it a shot.”

Jace went to the ham radio receiver and switched it on. When he’d set it up, he’d told me that it was designed to be portable, that if we could locate a different antenna setup, we could even take it along with us in the Jeep if we wanted. Why we’d want to do that, I didn’t particularly know, but it could possibly come in handy one day.

“Well, here goes,” he said, pressing the power button.

A soft hiss began to emerge from the small speakers set up to either side of the receiver. Jace began scanning along the bands, going slowly enough that he could stop if he came across something interesting. All I heard was that hiss, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, but even I knew it was all merely dead air.

And then…what sounded like a faint, tinny voice, a single syllable. “Lo — ”

It cut off with a screech and was replaced by more static. “Damn it,” Jace said, scanning back to the band where the sound had come from. But there was no voice this time, only an angry, crackling hiss.

“What happened to it?” I asked, coming closer, as if somehow I thought my presence would help the tuner lock back on to the signal.

“I don’t know.” He sounded irritated, and I didn’t blame him. All that work, for something that might or might not have been an actual person?

“Keep scanning,” I suggested, and he expelled a breath and continued his slow sweep across the bands. Just more hissing, more static.

My stomach clenched, and I told myself to calm down. Just because we weren’t picking up anything now didn’t mean there was no one out there. The other survivors might not have the skill to operate ham radio equipment, or hadn’t managed to set theirs up yet. It wasn’t as if Jace and I were alone on the planet — the missing supplies and those mysteriously vanished trucks and SUVs told me other people were out there somewhere, and, from the look of it, they seemed to be fairly well-organized. Sooner or later, we’d have to cross paths. Although now, after what Jace had confided in me about his misgivings on that score, I wasn’t sure meeting up with other people would be as beneficial as I’d previously hoped.

“I’m not getting anything,” Jace said at last, then shut off the receiver before turning back toward me. “Maybe I screwed up something in the installation, but it’s dark out now, so I won’t be able to check until tomorrow morning.”

“It’s fine,” I told him, even though I didn’t know if it really was. “I think you did have it working. I just think…no one’s transmitting.”

“Still, I’ll investigate more tomorrow.” He glanced away from me, sniffed the air. “Smells like dinner’s ready.”

“Almost,” I said, knowing that he’d changed the topic on purpose. Still, what did it matter? We weren’t getting anything out of that ham radio tonight.

So we went to the kitchen, which was warm and smelled of good and savory things — proven by Dutchie, who was loitering much closer to the stove than she should be. I shooed her away, and then dished up our food while Jace got her some kibble. Just another normal night…or as normal as