“Maybe your phone was damaged.”
“It’s not only my phone. It’s everybody’s phones.”
Lexi didn’t reply. Focusing on the environment, she noticed the lights had gone out, and there were many casualties. “The electricity is out too, right?”
“Yes.” Joe quietly mused Lexi was more than a pretty face and a country singer. However, he kept his thoughts to himself. “I’m guessing whatever electrical grid the stadium was on has been reduced to nothing.”
“Let me get this straight. Phones aren’t working, the electricity is out, and for some unexplained reason a jet happened to slam into a stadium filled to the max at an event seen around the world?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “That’s about it in a nutshell.” He offered Lexi a water bottle. “Take a sip of this. I bet you’re thirsty.”
“I am.” Lexi downed several gulps of water then handed the bottle back to Joe. She repositioned her legs and grimaced when she noticed her ankle swelling to the size of a baseball. She recalled what her dad had told her about crowded places where a terrorist group could make a spectacular event. She came to the realization this was more than a jet losing control causing the electricity to go out.
“Are you okay?” Joe asked.
“I’m not and neither will anyone else be.” Lexi coughed, holding her sides.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we are on our own. Hear any sirens?”
“No.” Joe scratched the top of his head.
“Any helicopters?”
“No.”
“See any police or first responders?”
“No.” The concern on Joe’s face became evident. “What are you getting at?”
“An EMP,” Lexi said matter-of-factly. She had no emotion in her voice, more like replying to the question about what was for dinner.
“Who are you?” Joe asked. His opinion of Lexi changed from one of being another pretty face to a woman who was in the know. “EMPs aren’t mainstream. Most people don’t believe in them.”
“I believe in them,” Lexi said. “To answer your question, I’m Lexi Carter.”
“I know. I was watching you sing the National Anthem when all hell broke loose. I know you’re Lexi Carter, one of the most recognizable country western singers in the U.S. The only person who wouldn’t know you would be living behind a rock in Timbuktu, and without any radio or TV.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lexi admitted.
She became quiet, musing how fame made even the simplest of tasks difficult, like grocery shopping. She had started shopping for groceries online because when she went to the grocery store, she was mobbed by fans.
“You’re uncomfortable with fame, aren’t you?”
“I can’t even go grocery shopping without being mobbed. I like to think back to my roots, to being the daughter of Harold and Wanda Carter.”
Joe tossed Lexi a confused expression, like he should know who her parents were. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t know your parents. Are they famous or something?”
“They’re regular folks. My daddy was a long-haul driver, and my mama stayed home to raise me and my brother.”
“Okaaaay,” Joe said slowly, drawing out the word. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Lexi shrugged. “There is no other shoe, except my parents were preppers, and they taught me the signs to look out for during an EMP. From what you explained, and what I’ve seen, it’s the only logical explanation, now that my brain has cleared and I can see straight.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Joe sat next to Lexi, leaning his back against the wall. “I haven’t introduced myself.” He offered Lexi a hand to shake. “I’m Joe Buck, and—”
“I know who you are.”
Joe was perplexed. “You know me? We’ve never met.”
“Not formally,” Lexi said.
“Then how?”
“Really?” It was Lexi’s turn to question Joe. “Although, I must admit I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember your name. It just came to me now.”
Joe’s heart was in his throat, wondering if he’d had a one-night stand with her during a drunken binge before she became famous. He could barely remember himself after he tied one on, much less remember who he’d been with. He had done a lot of dumb things during his youthful bravado stage.
“Three years ago, I was in a honkytonk,” Lexi explained. “I believe the name was Hungry’s. Before one of my songs, I looked you in the eyes and said this song is for you.”
“I remember that moment. It’s something I could never forget,” Joe said. “Why’d you say it to me? I mean, so many guys—”
“Joseph Buck.” Lexi put a hand on his. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“You’re Lexi Carter, the country singer.”
“I was your neighbor years ago. We lived on the same street, and I had the biggest crush on you.”
“Believe me,” Joe said. “If we lived on the same street, I would’ve remembered you.” He cracked a smile. “I remember all the pretty girls.”
“You wouldn’t have given me a second look back then. I was a skinny, gangly kid, and you were about fifteen.”
“Oh, wait,” Joe said, tapping the air with his index finger. “I remember. You’re Lonnie’s little sister, Alexa.”
“You got it. I dropped my real name. I go by Lexi now.”
“What ever happened to Lonnie? I haven’t talked to him in forever.”
“Last I heard, he was in jail,” Lexi said.
“For what?”
“Murder.”
Chapter 8
“Come on,” Ethan Crossfield said. “We need to get back to your brother.”
“What about my mom?” Kinsey asked. “We have to keep looking for her.”
“We will. Let’s help your brother first, then we’ll find your mother.”
“Okay.”
“Stay right behind me, and try to keep your eyes focused straight ahead. There’s lots of things you don’t need to see.”
“I’ve already seen it. Kinda hard not to.”
With the tub of ice propped against his hip, Ethan retraced his steps.
