Whiteout

What a nightmare. One minute I was sitting in my car listening to Rogan. The next, I was listening to car horns blaring. Why, goddamn it? Did these assholes think they could create an open road by being assholes? 

Whatever. I waited for Joe to come back and explain to me why he didn’t love Trump anymore. But he didn’t. So I had to inch forward toward the GWB with nothing to distract me from the stupidity of all the other commuting stiffs trying to shoehorn themselves onto the bridge.

I’m old enough to remember doing this with a newspaper on my knee and glancing down to read the news when traffic stopped. Then creeping forward a few feet. Rinse and repeat. It occurred to me to turn the radio on. I found a preset AM news station, 1010 WINS: “All the news. All the time.” 

“We’ve lost Christy. We’ll get back to her financial report as soon as we can. Meanwhile, here’s Frank with the sports. Hey Frank, the Giants, are they for real?”

“We’ve been disappointed too often to build our hopes up, Manny. But you never know. It’s a weak division, and JJ McCarthy has strapped the team to his back. Stranger things have happened.”

I have been a Giants fan since God was a boy. So I know the tease. No one gives them a chance. They win a few games. Everyone starts to believe. Then it's zero for the rest of the season. But at least they’re not the Jets.

Another 45 seconds of chit-chat, then a break for commercials. Manny gets back on the air. “We still can’t reach Christy,” he says. “But it looks like it’s going to be a tough day for the markets. What’s up with the weather, Rocco?”

“The forecast calls for one of those perfect fall days, Manny. Plenty of sun, but the heat will be manageable. It’ll be a great weekend for apple-picking. Today’s high will be in the low 70s. But keep a sweater handy as we expect a cold snap.”

Plenty of sun? Sure - in front of me. But in my mirrors, I can see a bank of black clouds sliced with lightning. It’s weird. The lightning flashed sideways - not toward the ground. And the clouds didn’t look normal. They were like a tight cluster of enormous black globe grapes with luminescent black edges. They were darker than any clouds I had ever seen.

“The internet appears to be down,” Manny said on the radio. Any news on that, Mr. Producer? The radio went silent for a few seconds.

Then Manny said, “Don’t tell me. Tell the listeners.”

A new voice came on the air. “We appear to have lost both the internet and cell service, Manny. No reports yet on how wide the outage is. How long before it’s back up. Or even what caused it. We are having trouble reaching anyone in the Mayor’s office.”

“Sorry folks,” Manny said. “We call ourselves a news station, but we don’t appear to have any news.”

Very funny, I thought. But not helpful. What would be helpful is some clue as to when this traffic would start moving. As if the radio people had read my mind, I heard Manny say, “Let’s go to Heidi in the 1010 chopper. Hey Heidi what’s the traffic situation?”

“It’s a mess. Manny. There are backups on all the crossings. The tunnels are an hour. The Triboro’s looking at 40 minutes. The GWB isn’t moving at all. It’s hard to see from up here, but … Jesus, what the fuck is that…" The radio went dead.

“Heidi?”

“Heidi?”

“Sam, have we lost Heidi?”

“We have.”

“What’s going on, Sam.”

“I don’t know. No one knows.”

I inched up 10 feet. And that’s it. Minutes tick by. Nada. A few people get out of their cars. I join them. Nobody’s phone is working. In front of us is the broad expanse of the Hudson River. Across the river is Manhattan, stretching from the bridge down through midtown to the financial district at the South end of the island.

I am old enough that I can still see the twin towers in my mind. But of course they are long gone. But the thought makes me wonder if we’ve had another terrorist attack. However, the island is bathed in pure sunlight (just like the day the Towers were hit, I thought), and I can’t see any smoke.

But I can see that the southbound traffic on the West Side Highway is as stuck as we are. Jesus Christ. I’m going to be sitting here for hours. The only time it's been this bad was during the Halloween blizzard three years ago. The forecasters missed that one, too.

People were getting out of their cars. Why not? The radio wasn’t telling me anything beyond what I already knew. No internet. No cell service. Just the old-time AM/FM of my youth.

It made me wonder what the kids would make of all this. They won’t know what to do with themselves, I thought with the smugness of a man raised before today’s technological excess. It was small consolation for the bad knees and declining eyesight. But it was something.

I turned my car off and joined the small crowd twenty feet in front of me. We were strangers in a lifeboat. Nobody made any introductions. It wasn’t a social event; it was a mutual support society. But support against what, nobody knew,

Once I established I had nothing concrete to offer, everyone went back to speculation. No one had any expertise in electronics or communication systems. So we passed the time by comparing today's event to other shutdowns.

We ran through our memories of the big 2003 Northeast blackout. Some of the younger members of our little group were hazy on that one. We shared our experiences during Hurricanes Sandy and Irene. I felt like I won that one, as I had lost power for over a week both times. 

But some grizzled old smoker said he had no service for two and a half weeks. I think he was exaggerating. But there seemed to be no profit in mentioning it. Another guy was fretting that he'd miss a job interview. We all tried to care. 

I kept glancing at my phone hoping for better news. But it just sat there impassive and unhelpful. 

“What’s that?” A crisply dressed woman pointed her finger above my head. I turned to see the black clouds were closer than before. And I could see a massive flat green-grey expanse pushing through the base of the darkness. The sky above was filled with churning smoke, roiling inside enormous transparent spheres. It reminded me of Independence Day, except somehow more alien.

No one spoke. Until someone said it looked like one of those Oklahoma tornado storms.

But it didn’t. I’ve seen the videos. These clouds weren’t like those. There was nothing underneath them. No debris swirling. No trees whipping back and forth. No touchdown. In fact, it was eerily quiet. 

No one was honking anymore. Everyone was out of their cars. Many pointed into the blackness to inform their neighbor of something they'd seen. But no one was listening. Misery may love company. But fear is a solitary pursuit. Nothing feels as lonely as wishing you could hug your loved ones tight while they're miles beyond your reach.

I stared at the useless phone in my hand. I wished I could call my wife. I had always let her know how the commute was going. Usually it was just to moan about some delay. But now I had real news and no way to tell her. I wondered if she had cell service. It would be nice to know how big this thing was. It might clue me in on how long it would last. 

The people around me murmured. Things had changed. The grey-green shape dropped lower out of the clouds. Its horizontal vastness extended beyond anything I could comprehend. Finally, the full width and breadth of this alien object were revealed as the bottom curved up into the sides. 

The whole mass moved silently toward us. I have never felt so helpless. I looked around to see a way out. Others seemed to think the same. But most people just stared at the blackness unmoving.

Then the hum started as all the car engines left on shut off together. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was more a vibration than a noise. More a massage than a vibration. Like it wanted you to lie down and sleep,

Around me, people did just that. They lay down. In their business suits and jeans and yoga clothes and sweaters and mechanic's shirts, they lay down. All of them flat on their backs. They looked peaceful, rested, serene with their eyes closed. They reminded me of the stone knights lying supine on church floors, staring heavenward in eternal supplication.

Then the ash started to fall. At first I thought it was snow. A weird weather anomaly. But when it touched my face and hands, it didn’t melt. It wasn’t wet. It wasn’t even cold. In fact, it felt warm.

Ahead of me, two young women stood resolutely. I couldn’t remember seeing them before. They wore long white coats, the kind that scientists do. As far as I could see, we were the only ones not lying down. But I couldn’t see far. I reached them just as the whiteness blanked everything else from sight.

"We should get in a car,” I said. They looked around quizzically. 

“What car?” they replied.

"Any will do.” I answered

I looked around. There were no cars. We were in a winter field in a snowless blizzard. The asphalt under my feet had been replaced with trampled grass in compacted dirt. Leafless trees surrounded us, their tops joining like the vault of a Gothic cathedral. 

The women told me to follow them. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Shouldn’t we stay where people could find us? I couldn’t see where we could go. But they were determined. “Follow us,” they repeated. And they started walking. I remained where I was. They turned and said once more, “Follow us. We have a landline.” So I followed them.

They walked to the trees. Gorse bushes grew between the trees. The women walked through them as if nothing was there. The brambles ripped at my clothes. I felt pinpricks of pain. Blood spots appeared and multiplied. I stopped to catch my breath and grab my phone.

Still nothing. My frustration increased. Before, a loss of service was an inconvenience. A reminder of how much we had come to rely on these damn things. Yet now, when I really needed it, it was useless. I kept staring at the blank screen because I didn’t know what else to do. 

I looked up to follow the women, amazed but relieved they still lived in a house with a landline. But they had disappeared. I called out. But received no reply. If I had thought that old technology would save me when the new stuff no longer worked, I was apparently the butt of a cosmic joke. 

 The ground got wet. What was once hard and dry was now cool and slippery. My feet began to sink into the earth. The morass sucked my shoes off. I fell to my knees, pushing my hands into the mud, trying to find them. I reached down, elbow-deep, but felt nothing except the smooth mud grasping at my forearm as if to pull me after my shoes.

Behind me I heard a rustling. I turned. Behind me was a form that looked like a person in a funhouse mirror. It must have been 12 feet tall. Its enormous head seemed to touch the lowest branches of the towering trees. The rest of the body was impossibly skinny. It had no face, no features.

I hunkered down, trying to make myself as small as possible. Whatever it was, it stood still, while its head twisted to scan its surroundings. Then it started to move off. I took out my phone and opened the camera. As it left, I took photos until it disappeared into the white.

Fear gripped me. I had to get away. I skittered across the greasy mud, trying to find roots to push against while I grasped the gorse bushes to pull me along. The ground gave way. I fell down a black, dimension-less hole until I hit a hard slope that curved into a stone floor.

There was no light. But I could see everything. I knew I was in a castle cellar. I looked back. The slope I had fallen down had disappeared, replaced with a stone wall. Everything was stone. Across from me stood a dark wooden plank door with a huge wrought-iron handle. I grasped it. The heavy door eased open a few inches, then stopped.

I reached my fingers through the slit but could find no reason for its immobility. Exhausted, I sat down. I reached into my pocket. And pulled out my phone again. I knew it was useless. Even if service had been restored, there was no way it would reach down here.

I was wrong. There was a signal. I stared at the screen to make sure I had made no mistake. The bars stared back at me. I dialed 911. It rang. Someone picked up.

I heard “911, what is your …” and then it went silent as my battery died. I cursed. Why? Why now? I wanted to smash my fist into the wall. But I couldn’t, as the walls were now only feet apart and I was being crushed in my tomb.

Then I felt my pillow. Relief hit me hard as I realized it was just a nightmare. Oh, sweet Jesus, that was terrifying. I felt as if I had just run a marathon. But here I was safe in bed, at home. The darkness was gone. Morning light shone through the gaps in my curtains.

I fumbled for my glasses. I put them on and reached for my phone. I held it up to my face. The home screen popped open. I hit the New York Times icon for a news update. My screen told me, “Cannot connect. An active connection is needed to view this content. Retry.”I checked the gear wheel. My wifi and cellular were turned on. But nothing was connected.

Goddamn technology, I thought. 

I got out of bed. Opened my curtain. Outside, I could see nothing but white light and what looked like white ash falling. I stared in horror, my nightmare made real. My phone was in my hand.

A thought struck me. I lifted it and hit the photos icon. It opened. My screen contained nothing but photos of a tall, skinny white entity with an enormous faceless head moving through a forest.