The Unit, Mike Lynch [i am malala young readers edition TXT] 📗

Little Billy came flying down the stairs. His legs barely kept him upright as his feet swooshed past each carpeted step. "Has it come on yet?" he asked, his animated demeanor equally matched by the hopeful tone in his voice.
Still exhausted from another restless night of sleep, Sam rubbed his bloodshot eyes before he threw a glance at the unit. "No, not yet...if it ever does."
His nephew brushed back a clump of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Oh, okay.” Billy fixed his attention on the device, as though the hopes imbued within him might cajole the apparatus to life. After a minute of intense focus he shrugged his shoulders and trudged back up the stairs, darkness slowly encompassing him like a malevolent creature sliding its long, sinewy fingers around its prey.
Billy's father pushed back from the kitchen table and threw down his napkin. "I don't know why you can't be more encouraging to the boy; you're his uncle for goodness sake. There isn't much for him to look forward to. You could at least give him a little encouragement like, 'not yet, but it will soon,’ or 'that thing will be humming in no time.'"
Another argument with his brother was the last thing Sam wanted. "You know I don't put much stock in rumors. Everybody I talk to says it's going to be soon, but what do they know? It's always a friend of a friend of a friend who knows when it's going to happen."
"Wasn't losing his mother enough, or do you feel it's your duty to add to the boy's misery?" He picked up his crumpled napkin and set it once again in his lap. "There is still a little thing called hope you know."
A small shaft of light slipped through a narrow gap between the curtains, giving the darkened room the barest of illumination.
"Is it sunrise already?" Billy's father picked up his glass of water and downed it in one gulp as he was apt to do when he was in a surly mood. "I swear, morning is coming earlier each day."
"You know it is." Sam regretted the words the moment he said them. If there was one thing his brother couldn't stand, it was when someone agreed with him in a condescending way. If this conversation had taken place twenty years before, they'd already be rolling on the floor, locked in mortal combat. "I mean, you know how the scientists have told us we're down to about four hours of darkness a day, and even then it's more of a twilight glow."
Billy's father let out a sigh. "Soon there won't be any night at all, if things keep going the way they are."
"If only we were that lucky."
“Yeah, if only,” Billy’s father said under his breath. He picked up the last cracker from his plate, but stopped just as he was about to take a bite. "A necktie? Isn't it hot enough for you? You have to go around wearing something that only makes you feel hotter." He grabbed his t-shirt and gave it a tug. "It's four in the morning and I'm already burning up."
They both knew how things were, but that didn’t make the situation any easier. In fact, their relationship had taken a marked turn for the worse the last few weeks—just waiting around for the inevitable to happen. It made people squabble over the most inconsequential things. "I thought I might go in to work today. You know me. I’m not much for just sitting around the house. If I'm doing something productive, then I can at least get my mind off...you know."
Billy's father let out a laugh of contempt. "Work? What's the point of that?"
It was like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall. His brother had always been the impetuous one. Once his mind had been made up about something, no one or nothing could ever change it. And he was too tired to try. Sam picked up his briefcase and started for the door.
"When are you going to stop blaming yourself for what happened?"
Sam stopped dead in his tracks, but kept his back to his brother.
"The doctors said there was nothing you could have done for Jenny. When are you going to get that through your thick head?"
"Couldn't I?" Sam drew in a long, painful breath. "I could have tried harder to save her."
A soft hand rested on Sam's shoulder. "The paramedics said the CPR you administered on her was nothing less than heroic, but when a person suffers a major heart attack—"
Sam jerked away. Even though he stood only inches away from his brother, it felt more like a mile. "Don't you get it? You didn't see that look in her eyes. For one fleeting instant Jenny was there, and then she was gone. How do you explain to a ten year-old boy that his mother...?" The rest of what he was going to say became lodged in his throat. “Why does God always take the good ones?”
"All this self-recrimination is doing nothing but killing you a little bit each day." Billy's father paused a moment. "I'm probably the last person in the world who should be telling you this. After all, you and I have had our ups and downs over the years, but you need to forgive yourself. Believe me, I know what it's like carrying all the things you wish you could change from the past strapped to your back. You can't change the past, but there is someone who can help you let it go."
This time it was Sam who let out a laugh of contempt. "What's done is done, and as for change, all the things Jenny told me about sacrificial love, forgiveness, and a better world that awaits us—they all died with her."
"You're wrong about that, but if you don't realize it soon, it could be too late."
Sam grabbed his hat hanging on a hook by the door. "Tell Billy I expect to be home around one."
A raging inferno met him the instant he stepped onto the porch. Houses, cars, sidewalks, streets, anything and everything that lay exposed for any length of time faced the murderous fireball of light set high in the sky. He wondered just how long their house could last under the relentless pounding of the sun's rays day after day. No matter, he thought, and donned his wide-brimmed hat, setting it low over his eyes.
At a hurried but steady gate, Sam eyed car after car parked haphazardly on both sides of the street. Even though the office where he worked was only a mile away, no more than a ten-minute's walk, the trip would be much more pleasant if he could have driven. He smiled at the thought. It had been months since he had seen a car going anywhere, let alone one on his street. What he wouldn't give for bumper-to-bumper traffic right now.
"Hey, wait up!" a voice called from behind.
Sam turned and watched Billy run up to him, his backpack in tow.
"You shouldn't be out here on your own," he scolded his nephew, but then gave him a pat on the shoulder after he flashed a broad grin.
"I know," Billy said between winded breaths, "but I didn't want to be late for school. Dad, well he's kinda busy right now."
"Uh huh." Sam pulled Billy's hat over his ears. "So do they still have school?"
"Sometimes. If enough kids show up."
The two of them started up the street together.
"I admire those teachers of yours. Despite all that's taken place, they're still in their classrooms every day in case students show up to learn."
Billy didn't reply. He kept his eyes forward, his backpack at his side. "Do you think they'll turn on the unit anytime soon?" he abruptly asked after a brief period of silence slipped between the two.
Sam looked down at his nephew and considered how he could answer that all important of questions. Billy’s searching gaze bore into him. Someone that young could only see the obvious benefit of what the unit going on meant, but did he truly understand what the significance of it really was? "No one really knows, but it will probably happen sooner or later. That's what the scientists tell us anyway...and the politicians."
"I wish it were today. It's always so hot." He looked up at the sky. "My dad said there used to be clouds in the sky, and water fell from them. In the winter, we'd have snow. Have you ever seen snow?"
Sam's thoughts flashed back to his youth, to those times when he and his brother had snowball fights, or duels with icicles that had formed on the eaves of their house.
"Now it's daytime most of the time, and the sky is always red. It feels even hotter today than yesterday." Billy wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow. "I wish the unit would go on. It sure would feel good. And right after that, I'll be with my mother again. Won't it be nice with all of us in heaven together, Uncle Sammy?"
All of us, he wondered. Was that even possible? "I know your mother believed such things."
The earnestness that rested on Billy's lips spread to the rest of his face. "It's not hard. All you have to do is believe."
"This is your street," Sam said abruptly. He looked down the hill and observed several boys with backpacks heading towards Cochrane Elementary School. "Looks like they'll be having class today. That should occupy your time for a while."
"Okay, Uncle Sammy. I'll see you later." Billy waved goodbye and darted off to his friends.
Sam could do nothing else but watch, watch and hope today was a good day for his nephew.
A little further on, the stores on either side of the street, most of them former restaurants and mini-marts, had been shuttered for months. A waste of time and money, he thought. A soft laugh pushed out of him. What did it matter? If the owners wanted to protect their property against looters or the elements, that was their prerogative.
He stopped and peered into one of the old cafes. The Blue Parrot had been one of the most popular hang-outs on this side of town. Even through the dirty window he could make out the glitter ball suspended from the ceiling, the juke box in the corner, and the dance floor that witnessed just about every dance craze of the past fifty years. Today, it was a relic of the past, a silent sentinel of all the good times gone by.
Sam caught himself. With the little time he had left he didn't want to squander it reminiscing about the salad days of what was. He spun around and headed straight for the Bailey Brothers Insurance Company building across the street. A pair of hinges offered