Empty by Suzanne Weyn Page B

don’t leave me.” But it was too late. He’d gone.
    â€œThey’ve siphoned all the gas from our tanks!” someone shouted.
    Outraged voices rose up on every side. She didn’t even know that word— siphoned . Niki could see well enough to take several steps forward along with the crowd around her. “What’s happening?” she asked a girl who had come into focus to her right.
    â€œSome of the Mariner players have sucked the gasoline from our cars.”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Niki gasped. “How’d they do that?”
    â€œDon’t they usually stick a hose into the fuel tank or something like that?” the girl replied before she rushed forward with the rest of the crowd that was running off into the darkness beyond the bonfire.
    There was more shouting. Down in the parking lot, motors revved but wouldn’t start.
    Niki inched her way forward. Most of the shouting was indistinct. She heard thumping and pounding, another crash of broken glass. More curses. Occasionally, she could make out a clear sentence:
    â€œStop hitting him. Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

CHAPTER 7
    Gwen stretched out on her couch with a scratchy blue blanket held over her head with one hand, a flashlight held with the other. Propped between her stomach and her knees was a tablet onto which she’d uploaded a book titled Sustainable Future . From it, Gwen was poring over an article called “Residential Wind Turbines.”
    The reading wasn’t easy to understand. The article had subtitles such as: Designing and Carving Wooden Blades ; Alternator Theory and Design ; Winding Coils ; Fitting Magnets into Homebuilt Alternators ; Governing Systems ; Yaw and Tail Design and Construction ; Wiring and Fabrication ; Construction Details .
    In fact, it seemed pretty much impossible to imagine converting to wind power. And yet, the article said it could be done. It also said that—as an individual—it might be easier to work with solar energy. What intrigued her about wind energy, though, was that Luke had so much old motorcycle junk lying around. Wire and motors and all sorts of metal were piled in the shed behind the house.
    Tom and Carlos had been on the right track when they’d suggested that Luke had access to stolen gasoline. But it was only enough to keep their old furnace going at sixty degrees and to fuel a small generatorfor a few hours in the evening. The rest of the gas Luke sold at high prices.
    When Gwen wanted to know why he didn’t keep more for their own use, he said, “You like to eat, don’t you? We need that money for food. Besides, I have to buy the gas from the black market guy, which means filling a truck with gas just to go get the stuff.”
    Gwen scrolled down to a subhead titled: History of the Wind Turbine . She learned that windmills were used to grind grain in Persia as early as 200 BC. The first electricity-generating wind machine was installed in 1887 in Scotland. In America, by 1908 there were seventy-two wind-propelled electric generators. By the 1930s, windmills for electricity were common on American farms.
    Outside, the wind howled. She pictured a wind turbine with its blades spinning, producing enough electricity to light their house.
    Gwen switched off the tablet. Maybe it was useless. There was so much she’d need to know before she could think about building a wind turbine and installing it on their roof.
    Luke and two of his friends stomped through the front door into the enclosed front porch, laughing raucously, in a tone that told Gwen they’d been drinking. They reeked of gasoline and body odor as they dragged in an array of various plastic containers—juice and milk jugs, large water jugs, and even soda bottles, along with red containers.
    Tossing off her blanket, Gwen left the tablet on the couch. Going toward the porch, she recognized the strong odor of gasoline before she even got there.