To the “civilian”, the concussive boom accompanied by a flash of light seen from the living room is something to behold, a transformer across the street has blown. This civilian lacks anxiety, fear and so on because of the solar system they installed, not so much the solar panels at this moment because of it being 9 pm on a Saturday but the backup battery that is now keeping the lights on and the diesel generator that will fire up soon to assure the batteries stay topped off.
Down the street lives a military veteran of some sort. To him, it is unclear because to his neighbors as to what branch/theater of conflict he has seen, served it is not advertised. He does not wear camo or a hat saying veteran. Either it was something in his past, and he lives in the moment now, or this was a time he does not wish to remember. This conjecture is on this writer’s part, nothing more. The concussive boom felt in his chest, the flash of light and the lights going down taps into the primal part of his brain.
Back to the training programed into him. He slows his breathing and his heart rate. Logic tells that this is nothing but a power outage.
Neighbors wander from their homes into the dark street, approaching each other with flashlights. An odd bonding takes place as familiar faces, people who have seen each other for years but never really spoke, discuss lightheartedly when will the zombies appear and so on. Two of this group are calling the power company getting a prerecorded message about crews soon to arrive to fix downed power lines.
Out of the darkness appears the civilian, the protagonist of this tale. He offers a smile holding a pot of hot coffee. “My powers still up… party at my place?”
These “Neighbors” with this “Veteran” follow the “Civilian” up the hill to the source of light, the civilian's home.