Page 23 of Trigger Discipline

CHAPTER 9

PSYWAR

There was a winter break when both Blake’s parents worked. Normally, he was schlepped off to a friends house. Or his mom hired some high schooler to make sure he actually left his bedroom and got some fresh air.

But that time his parents hadn’t organized anything. He didn’t remember why. But they trusted Blake home alone.

Which, in theory, was fine. In practice, a total disaster.

On the second day he had stuck a slinky in the dryer.Why?He had finished his book and the babysitter couldn’t drive him to the library for a new one.

The metal slinky was destroyed. Looping twists of thin wire all wrapped around each other, melted in some parts, and tangled beyond repair.

That’s what the cell tower in front of them looked like. A giant ruined slinky.

It was barely recognizable. He could have easily walked right past it having no idea what it used to be.

Gabriel looked morose. He was staring up at the tangled heap for a solid three minutes. Eyes flicking around the damage, tracing the lines of metal. For what, Blake didn’tknow. There was no way the thing was salvageable, even if they had more than a small tool kit with them.

Gabriel wiped his hands on his pants. Without looking at Blake, he began trying to climb up one of the ruined lines of metal. He wasn’t quite tall enough to make the foothold, and the sight of him jumping for it was comical.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

Gabriel nearly growled in frustration. “Trying to climb up. I might be able to get to the box.”

What box?Blake looked through the pile of charred metal. Even if he could find the box, which was a big if, the thing was destroyed. Useless without the height. They didn’t make cell towers that tall just for fun.

“Gabriel,” he said, the name sitting strange on his tongue. Formal. Weighted. But he couldn’t bring himself to call him Gabe. “We need to find another way.”

His lips pressed together. “Thisisthe mission.”

“The mission is a fucked up slinky.”

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. It made his helmet wriggle on his forehead. Blake didn’t explain. Instead, he moved away and looked up at the sky.

Their mission was to reestablish communication. Communication wasn’t necessarily limited to a cell tower. There were thousands of ways to communicate; they just had to find the right way.

Anything with electricity was out. The power grid was down. Or melted. Whatever, same thing. But humanity communicated before electricity, didn’t they? They used to be able to send messages across oceans and continents. All without expensive cell phone plans.

Ignoring Gabriel’s exasperated expression, he tried to step back and look at the broader picture. Sometimes the details didn’t make sense unless you could see where they were supposed to go.

A way to communicate…

And like a winning hand ofSolitaire, the pieces all flitted into place.

Whirling around, he missed the confusion coloring the soldier’s face as he began.

It had been a while, but he thought he could remember everything from that afternoon. Thinking back, he tried to remember that day. The one where his mom had been gone, so his dad had pulled the blinds. They were still in pajamas even though it was already past noon. With plain turkey sandwiches and a handful of potato chips on a Styrofoam plate, he’d been sitting on the floor, leaning against his father’s legs as the TV flickered.

If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the narrator’s posh, English accent.

“You know Morse code, right?” he called over his shoulder as he began digging through some rubble.

Gabriel blinked at him. “Kind of. Why?”

“Trains,” he mumbled as he dug, pulling a big chunk of cement attached to rebar away. With his fingertips, he pried a perfect piece of wood free. The bit was about three inches tall and one inch wide. Probably part of a leg to a table. He held it up for Gabriel’s inspection.

“Trains? What are you talking about?” he asked as Blake tossed the wood piece to him. Gabriel caught it easily. Blake climbed the pile of rubble, looking into the walls of the destroyed building. Part of the bricks were melted, but most of the building had been crushed when the cell tower collapsed through it. Blake guessed it used to be an apartment complex. A couch was teetering from the second floor, and he avoided lingering under it.