the interruption is not known at this time. Regular programming will resume as soon as possible. Please stay tuned.”
Quint sat on the couch with the Twentieth Century Digest in his lap. Brandon turned the channels for more news. He felt the knob slip into place with a soft “thump” for each channel that came up. It was weird turning a knob after having soundlessly flown through channels with a remote all his life. Brandon thought of Stephen’s crack about bad electronics and smiled. But he had to admit—to himself—that making something physically happen and hearing it happen was kind of cool. At five fifteen p.m. he “thumped” to a channel that had a bulletin with fresh information: “There has been a massive power outage in New York City and surrounding areas. The cause and extent of the outage are being investigated. Regular programming will resume as soon as the problem is corrected. Please stay tuned for reports of further developments.”
Brandon kept turning the channels. Gradually the situation became clear. New York City was not the only place affected. Power was out in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and parts of Canada. Quint checked the bulletins against the entry in the Digest . Hours passed.
Stephen’s watch beeped. “Eight thirty.” He yawned.
Quint closed the Digest and stood up. He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched from side to side. “I can’t talk now, my brain’s shot. Y’all got a place t’sleep?” No one answered him. Quint nodded. “I’ll go out and bring some food back. Y’all can clean up and sleep here tonight. We talk this out in the mornin’, okay?”
“Okay,” Brandon said.
Quint gave his head a shake and walked out the door. In half an hour he was back with what looked like a bucket of fried chicken. Only it wasn’t fried chicken.
“Jambalaya,” he said. “From the French Market.”
Brandon, Stephen, and Sarah followed him into the kitchen and took seats around a battered Formica table. Quint divided the bucket among four plates. Jambalaya turned out to be a spicy dish of rice, vegetables, and a kind of meat Brandon didn’t recognize. He jabbed a strip of it with his fork and turned it around, wondering if it was alligator or turtle.
“Just eat it,” Stephen whispered to him.
He did and was surprised it tasted so good.
When dinner was over, Brandon turned on the TV again. Most places in the Northeast were still without power. Quint threw some cushions and blankets on the floor. Everyone took a turn in the bathroom.
“Tomorrow we talk,” Quint said when everyone had found a spot on the floor. He switched off the light.
Brandon awoke with a start. The gray light in the room told him it was early, but he was too awake to close his eyes again. Stephen and Sarah were sleeping on either side of him, but where was Quint? He got up and stepped carefully over Stephen. He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, and the small room where Quint kept most of his stuff. A chill ran down his back when he realized Quint was gone. Then he heard a noise at the window and went to look out.
Quint was climbing the steps with a newspaper and a brown paper bag. Brandon breathed with relief and opened the door for him. Soft light spread over the room, and Stephen and Sarah stirred on their cushions.
“Good mornin’,” Quint said as he stepped inside.
They gathered in the kitchen. Quint threw the bag on the counter and the newspaper on the table. The New Orleans Times-Picayune for November 10, 1965, unfolded to its front-page headline: POWER FAILS ACROSS NORTHEAST. Quint took the Twentieth Century Digest off the counter and opened it to the page he had dog-eared.
“Y’book quotes a wire service report—word for word— that’s in the paper today,” he said to Stephen. “Y’book had the report before the report was even written.”
Stephen was silent.
“Y’all are on the level,”
Quint sat on the couch with the Twentieth Century Digest in his lap. Brandon turned the channels for more news. He felt the knob slip into place with a soft “thump” for each channel that came up. It was weird turning a knob after having soundlessly flown through channels with a remote all his life. Brandon thought of Stephen’s crack about bad electronics and smiled. But he had to admit—to himself—that making something physically happen and hearing it happen was kind of cool. At five fifteen p.m. he “thumped” to a channel that had a bulletin with fresh information: “There has been a massive power outage in New York City and surrounding areas. The cause and extent of the outage are being investigated. Regular programming will resume as soon as the problem is corrected. Please stay tuned for reports of further developments.”
Brandon kept turning the channels. Gradually the situation became clear. New York City was not the only place affected. Power was out in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and parts of Canada. Quint checked the bulletins against the entry in the Digest . Hours passed.
Stephen’s watch beeped. “Eight thirty.” He yawned.
Quint closed the Digest and stood up. He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched from side to side. “I can’t talk now, my brain’s shot. Y’all got a place t’sleep?” No one answered him. Quint nodded. “I’ll go out and bring some food back. Y’all can clean up and sleep here tonight. We talk this out in the mornin’, okay?”
“Okay,” Brandon said.
Quint gave his head a shake and walked out the door. In half an hour he was back with what looked like a bucket of fried chicken. Only it wasn’t fried chicken.
“Jambalaya,” he said. “From the French Market.”
Brandon, Stephen, and Sarah followed him into the kitchen and took seats around a battered Formica table. Quint divided the bucket among four plates. Jambalaya turned out to be a spicy dish of rice, vegetables, and a kind of meat Brandon didn’t recognize. He jabbed a strip of it with his fork and turned it around, wondering if it was alligator or turtle.
“Just eat it,” Stephen whispered to him.
He did and was surprised it tasted so good.
When dinner was over, Brandon turned on the TV again. Most places in the Northeast were still without power. Quint threw some cushions and blankets on the floor. Everyone took a turn in the bathroom.
“Tomorrow we talk,” Quint said when everyone had found a spot on the floor. He switched off the light.
Brandon awoke with a start. The gray light in the room told him it was early, but he was too awake to close his eyes again. Stephen and Sarah were sleeping on either side of him, but where was Quint? He got up and stepped carefully over Stephen. He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, and the small room where Quint kept most of his stuff. A chill ran down his back when he realized Quint was gone. Then he heard a noise at the window and went to look out.
Quint was climbing the steps with a newspaper and a brown paper bag. Brandon breathed with relief and opened the door for him. Soft light spread over the room, and Stephen and Sarah stirred on their cushions.
“Good mornin’,” Quint said as he stepped inside.
They gathered in the kitchen. Quint threw the bag on the counter and the newspaper on the table. The New Orleans Times-Picayune for November 10, 1965, unfolded to its front-page headline: POWER FAILS ACROSS NORTHEAST. Quint took the Twentieth Century Digest off the counter and opened it to the page he had dog-eared.
“Y’book quotes a wire service report—word for word— that’s in the paper today,” he said to Stephen. “Y’book had the report before the report was even written.”
Stephen was silent.
“Y’all are on the level,”
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