One Week Later (Revised)

We've been without power for a week now. The lines snapped under the weight of falling ice-encrusted branches and we plunged into darkness. They've been trying to get it back on-line, but there have been setbacks. Some supermarkets are still open in the daytime and some in the night with generators. People buy canned goods and water to get by until we are reintroduced into the twenty first century.

Most gas stations are out of power too, but hopefully they will get them back up soon. They usually prioritize their efforts, give power to critical needs like hospitals and fire departments. I get into my car and drive, hoping to find fuel. I have a quarter of a tank left and hope maybe there is enough to drive far enough that I will hit the edge of the power outage and find an open gas station. I have nowhere else to go so I don't necessarily need the gas, but there is no heat in the house. At least in the car, I can stay warm without having to wear three sweaters.

It is a strange sight on the road, feels like I'm in a post-apocalyptic movie like Mad Max, but without my leather jacket, a cool car, or guns in the trunk. The roads have yet to be completely cleared. It's an obstacle course so filled with debris that I have to squeeze my way through on most small roads or drive over the small branches if I can.

There is hardly a person in sight, especially none out walking. Once in a while, there are a few cars that pass, but most of the time an eerie silence pervades. None of the street lights are working. All the stores are closed even though I'm in the busy downtown area and it's the middle of the day on a Tuesday. I almost expect to see a tumbleweed to blow across the road or a pack of stray dogs to run up along side the car.

Almost as if on cue, a deer appears in the middle of the intersection in front of me. It studies me for a moment and then bounds off into a side street. I weave around a fallen street sign and keep driving, sporadically checking the rear view mirror for signs of marauders in disheveled dress on gas-guzzling ATVs.