Norman had been chasing signals for sixty years, and of all his myriad hobbies and interests, it was one of the old man’s favorites. He’d talk about it with anyone who seemed remotely interested, and even those who didn’t. But a few friends and former students would show momentary interest, mostly for the nostalgia quotient, and at some dinners they’d allow themselves to be dragged into a session on the shortwaves.
“They’re not goddamn shortwaves,” Norman would chastise them. “I’m not some trucker with a CB talking about Smokey in a blanket or what have you. It’s HAM. Short and long waves. I can talk to Canberra on this thing.”
Perry unspooled the reel of long-line antenna, looping it around the luggage rack on top of the car, then gave the radio’s hand crank a couple dozen turns for power and switched it on. He keyed the microphone and called out, using the frequency on which Norman could most often be found.
“CQ, CQ, this is, uh”—he looked down at the map to see where the hell he was—“Somerset County, PA, looking for you, Aurora, Illinois, on two hundred thirteen megahertz. Come in.”
He waited but heard only static.
He tried again, and this time, halfway through his call, the radio squawked angrily, three times in a row, as with someone keying it in irritation. Norman’s voice came through, loud and mostly clear.
“You’ve got to say ‘over,’ dummy.”
Norman was there, up at dawn as usual, and sounded undiminished. Perry keyed the mic again. “Hey, Norman, it’s Perry. How you holding up?”
“Best as can be expected. How’s things out east? Over.”
“Like the early part of a zombie movie, before the brains start to fly,” Perry said. “I’m headed to the folks’ place in Iowa. Want me to stop in on you?”
No answer. Only static. Finally:
“For the love of Christ, will you please say—”
“Over! Sorry, over. Want me to stop in? Over?”
“What would you do here? Over.”
Perry thought for a good long while. “Not much, I guess. Over.”
“Thanks for thinking of me, kiddo. I’m fine. Worry about your folks. You’re a good man. Over.”
Perry thought for a long moment, then keyed the mic again. Something about Norman had always brought out his tender side, and he could feel the emotion welling in him just hearing his old professor’s tones.
“What are we gonna do, Norman?”
There was a long pause, Perry added “over,” and Norman finally answered.
“The only thing humanity has ever done. Wait and hope.”
Perry smiled. Norman had been saying that for as long as he’d known him. It still helped.
“The house is freezing,” Norman said. “I gotta go hit the generator for an hour. Stay safe, kiddo. Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
14.
Aurora
After she’d seen the porch lights on at Norman’s house, Aubrey had sat quietly for a moment, listening. There was a low humming sound coming from Norman’s driveway.
She got up and headed toward it, walking at first, then picking it up to a jog as her concern mounted. She knew the house; she’d been there several times over the years. The professor was a gregarious and capable host, inviting former students, old colleagues, and an occasional neighbor for long, boozy dinners that had left Aubrey feeling awkward. She honestly didn’t know why he included her. She tried to decline the invitations, preferring to see Norman one on one in a more neighborly way, but he’d kept at her, insisting she belonged, as long as she didn’t bring that shit-for-brains husband of hers. He’d actually said that, while she and Rusty were still married, which had simultaneously enraged and delighted her. Who had that kind of nerve?
Norman was always there for her. When she was debating starting her conference business, it was Norman who told her to do it. When she agonized over kicking Rusty out of the house, Norman was the one who told her she must.
“I can’t believe I ever got involved with him,” she’d said.
“Low self-esteem,” Norman had replied, then shrugged. “You see these things. You gotta get over it, though.”
The moment she reached his driveway, she could tell there was something wrong. It wasn’t just the porch light that was on; the kitchen and living room were lit up too, even though sunlight was streaming through the windows. Aubrey called out.
“Norman?”
No answer. She walked up the driveway, and the faint humming sound grew louder. It was coming from around the side of the house. She called Norman’s name again, got no answer, and reached the garage.