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When Jack opened the tenth container he just stood, staring.
Sam said, “Okay, what is it?”
No answer.
Sam leaned over Jack’s shoulders to look. Pallet after pallet of heavy cartons. Each carton was emblazoned with the Apple logo.
“Computers?” Sam wondered. “Or iPods?” Neither would be of any use.
At last Jack moved. He rushed to the nearest pallet, then hesitated. He carefully wiped his hands on his pants. Then he tore away the shrink-wrap and gently, cautiously, opened the first carton.
It was with trembling fingers that he lifted out a white box. On the box was a photo of a laptop.
“That would be great if we had internet,” Sam said. “Or electricity.”
“They ship them fully charged,” Jack snapped, angry at Sam’s interruption. Like Sam had started talking in church. “It’s been so long but . . . but they may still have some charge.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “So you can play some games. Let’s move on to the next—”
“No!” Jack cried, his voice somewhere between anguish and rapture. “No. I have to . . . I have to see.”
He spent five full minutes carefully opening the box, lifting out Styrofoam packing pieces like they were fragile works of art.
It was like watching some unfamiliar but profound religious ritual. Sam found it almost moving. He’d never seen Jack so emotional.
He picked patiently at the small piece of tape that held the laptop’s thin foam sheath in place.
And finally he held up the silver laptop as if holding a baby in his trembling hands.
He turned it over. By now the suspense was even getting to Sam.
Jack closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, turned the laptop over, and pressed the battery indicator light. Two tiny green lights blazed.
“Two!” Jack exulted. “Two! I was afraid it’d be one blinking light.” Then, in a whisper. “Two. That’s maybe an hour and a half. Maybe two hours even.”
“Dude. Are you crying?”
Jack wiped his eyes. “No. Jeez.”
“He’s lying, he’s crying,” Toto called out unhelpfully.
“You need some time?” Sam asked. He doubted any power on earth could convince Jack to move on yet.
Jack nodded.
“Okay. Dekka and I will get the next one.”
The eleventh container was more lawn furniture.
The twelfth container was filled from bottom to top with the greatest sight Sam and Dekka had ever seen in their lives.
This time it was they who stood, awestruck. Overcome by emotion.
There was no mistaking that logo.
“Can you put Pepsi in Cup-a-Noodles?” Dekka wondered.
They leaped at the shrink-wrapped pallets and ripped cans free.
