The mood changed when the first tree dropped. Three more fell. Then a cacophony of crisp pops, like Chinese fireworks on the Fourth of July. This was no longer a party. Before that moment the large group of friends had been drinking and reveling the unexpected day off and the pings of the ice on the metal roof. The forecasters were never on target, and they had given up listening to them a long time ago. The sound of children playing filled the old wooden house, as adults drank Baileys and Coffee and made collages from old magazines.
“The power is going to go out,” said Dylan, when the trees began their attack.
“Don’t say that. Take it back.”
The light in the room turned brown and a deep hum filled the house.
“Take it back now.”
“I take it back,” He said, apologetically.
The ice continued to fall. The trees continued as well. The sound of chandeliers dropping all around them was ominous.
Then everything went black.
“This is your fault. You shouldn’t have said it.”
Seriousness ensued. The candles were brought out, flashlights located, and blankets piled into the living room to make the five children a warm pallet on the hideaway bed. The music shifted to Radiohead. Sad songs played until the laptop battery died. The refrigerator wasn’t humming. There was no sound beyond the collapse of the trees outside. Everyone went to sleep.
When Suki woke in the morning she could see her breath. All around her were sleeping bodies- on the floor, the bed, in the futon. She ached for her sons but they were downstairs in the pile of dreaming children. The house was brittle, and she carefully went downstairs to make sure the children were warm enough. Her two sons were wrapped up with their arms around each other. Soon enough, the whole house began to wake. There was no coffee, no heat, and an excess of hang over. The decision was made to evacuate. It was a scene from a horror movie, except everything was sparkling outside. You are never supposed to split up when zombies attack. Still, the group went separate ways to find places of refuge that had some sort of heat.
The entire town was a wasteland. There were no batteries. The liquor store was sold out. Only the McDonalds was open. The line that wrapped around the building of cold and hungry people smelled like the Soviet Union. They ate sausage McMuffins and drank black coffee while they charged their cell phones. Each person was isolated in their misery, and yet they all shared a common fate.
They landed at Donna and Jason’s home. Thanks to the wood burning stove and the open invitation, it had become a haven. Twelve people, four dogs and two hermit crabs had found themselves piled into the living room. Blankets brought from home created a giant sleeping pallet for the families to share. The bashful nights were spent snuggling family, the roar of the fire the only sound. The front porch was converted into a kitchen where a constant percolator of coffee was brewing. Ice chests full of salvaged food from silent refrigerators lined the wooden walls. The kitchen became an art studio and poker arena. Children covered paper with markers while adults traded chips of red, white and black. Wine flowed. There was laughter. A sweet six-year-old voice sang “Nowhere Man” and “Help”. Bound together the disaster became beautiful. The sun tumbled out, creating a dazzling display of diamonds outside. The roads began to thaw; only the trees covered in a blanket of ice blocked the paths. Cheers erupted when power trucks went by, heroes from across the nation working on the lines that had left the majority of the city in quiet darkness. People came out of their homes and talked to their neighbors for the first time. They shared food, chainsaws and firewood.
Out of the depths of ice and fallen trees, out of cold and darkness was born warmth never to be seen again. Together, we were dirty. Together, we did not go hungry, or become cold. Together, we survived. We laughed, and sang, and played. Three days later the sound of refrigerators humming and heaters coming to life took everyone home. Life returned to normal. Insurance companies were contacted.
By the time the next ice storm would appear, we would all be prepared with our kerosene heaters and generators. We would have a stash of batteries, candles, flashlights and Ramen. The next time, we would weather it alone. It would never be that warm again.
