by Akart, Bobby
Chapman cut her off. He was blunt. “My father’s coming with us.”
“Sir, you can’t take a corpse out—” she began before Levi screamed at her, “He’s not a corpse! He’s our father. Treat him with some respect!”
“Sir, I’m sorry,” the nurse apologized. “Um, it’s just hospital procedure. The morgue will have to do some things before he can be released for transportation to a funeral—well, um, I’m not sure exactly what will happen next under the circumstances.”
“Exactly,” said Chapman. “Give me some more sheets.”
“Sir, there are procedures,” protested the nurse. “His body will decay rapidly after the first twenty-four hours and become potentially hazardous to anyone who comes in contact with him. He must be embalmed as soon as possible.”
“We’ll take care of it,” said Levi, not really sure how they’d do it.
“Mr. Gehlbach will do it,” said Chapman, referring to the well-known mortician in Corydon. “He and dad are friends.”
The nurse was unsure whether she should stand her ground, and then an uproar occurred in the hallway when two men began to fight one another. She shrugged and led Chapman in the dark to a cabinet.
“Here are sheets and large hypothermia blankets,” she began as she loaded up Chapman’s arms. “Wrap your father in these blankets first. You need to keep his body cool, which will slow the process of decay. The sheets will help absorb the fluids that will be escaping.”
“Thank you,” Chapman said sincerely.
“Mr. Boone, I’m serious when I tell you this. Within twenty-four hours, his body will begin to decay. You don’t want to waste any time getting it embalmed or buried.”
“I understand. Thank you for trying to help him.”
She patted him on the arm and exited the room, leaving the three of them alone in the dark. Chapman explained to Levi and Isabella what they needed to do. Within a few minutes, they’d lovingly wrapped Squire’s body so it resembled a mummy prepared to be placed in a sarcophagus.
Levi kept petting his father’s head. He was sullen and quiet now, his anger having subsided as the reality set in. Chapman squeezed Isabella’s hand and whispered, “Thank you.” Her indoctrination into the Boone family had been eventful.
“Okay,” Chapman began with a sigh. “We’ve gotta take him to the truck. It’s not gonna be easy pushing this thing through the hallways.”
Levi stepped up to the gurney. His voice was cold, unemotional. “I’ll carry him. Elevators don’t work anyway.”
“I can help,” offered Chapman, but Levi was insistent.
“No, I’ll need you guys to clear a path. I don’t care how beat up I am. I can find the strength to carry our father home with dignity.”
Chapman peeked into the hallway and discussed the most efficient way to get Squire out of the hospital without creating a scene. He retrieved the rifle from Isabella, who agreed to follow Levi.
With Chapman holding the rifle at low ready in front of him, the unruly crowd became calm in waves, parting the hallway to open up a path. Even as they made their way to the ground floor, the melee with the riot police found a way to take a respite, allowing the Boones to exit with their deceased father.
Outside, Levi became emotional again, and his arms began to tire. Chapman took over the duties of carrying Squire the remainder of the two miles to where they’d parked their truck. Not a word was said between the three of them as they walked alongside refugees who’d given up any hope of getting to the hospital. Once they’d learned the power grid was shut down again, they began the arduous task of returning to their homes.
Finally, the truck was in sight. Isabella took the rifle and jogged ahead with the keys. She opened up the rear hatch and moved the gear they’d brought with them for the trip, which included a spare can of fuel. She waited stoically for Chapman to arrive, and as if their minds were in perfect sync, they looked at the rapidly building clouds overhead.
One at a time, and then in a huge outburst, raindrops began to pelt them. Chapman stood in amazement. His father had prayed for months, begging God to bring rain to his orchards.
And now, the angels were crying.
Chapter 16
The West Wing
The White House
Washington, DC
President Grant Houston, escorted by his entourage of Secret Service personnel, rushed through the West Wing of the White House as staffers frantically collected files, laptops, and personal effects to be transported with the president to Raven Rock, Pennsylvania, one of several underground military installations available to the president in the event of a nuclear attack or other catastrophic event.
Two days prior, the administration had ordered a mock bugout of the White House, conducted under the supervision of his chief of staff, Angela O’Donnell. There were certain protocols put in place by past administrations, but in his relatively young presidency, an actual emergency drill had not been conducted.
O’Donnell expressed her displeasure in the way the first drill went after it was over. The staffers didn’t give it a full effort, as she put it, most likely because they didn’t perceive the threat of a solar storm as being real. Their lack of preparation resulted in the chaotic scene within the West Wing today.
O’Donnell was waiting outside the entrance to the Oval Office with Nola Taylor, from NASA, and Sandra White, from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, or FERC.
The president saw her and immediately picked up the pace. “Where do you want me? Roosevelt Room or the Oval?”
“Oval, sir,” she replied, gesturing toward his office with a nod of her head. She and the two women accompanying her stood back a pace as the president and the Secret Service personnel passed. Seconds later, the group was settled in and the president began to pace the floor. The first thing he did was peer through the curtains overlooking the South Lawn, which was abuzz with activity. Military personnel and their armored vehicles were scurrying in all directions while large cranes were adding concrete barriers in place along the inside perimeter of the White House grounds. The once pristine and well-manicured grass had been torn from its roots, resulting in a muddy mess. The White House had been converted to a castle, surrounded by soldiers and a moat, which had begun to form due to the recent heavy rains.
“Where did this rain come from?” he asked Taylor. “I know our forecasting ability has been limited, but my daily briefing mentioned nothing of this monsoonal downpour.”
“Mr. President, after we speak, I’m attending a briefing with representatives from NOAA. Apparently, this might be a side effect, of sorts, resulting from the magnetic reversal.”
O’Donnell stepped in to interject, “The weather will have no bearing on the decision we’ve made to move to Raven Rock, sir.”
“I understand, Ange, so let’s get right to it,” said the president.
He’d grown increasingly cross with his chief of staff and illicit lover. Perhaps it was the mounting pressure upon his shoulders as a result of the pole shift and his decision to intentionally take down the nation’s power grid. Or it was her constant badgering of him to simply abandon his duties, walk away from the presidency, to disappear to a secluded mountaintop or island in New Zealand. He didn’t share her pessimistic outlook as to the fate of the country from this catastrophic event and therefore wasn’t prepared to abandon ship. As a result, they’d had cross words with one another, and for the first time in many months, they’d slept apart the night before.
“Sir, if I may,” began White, seeking approval from the president to speak.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, as requested, it appears the National Guard has taken control of the utilities in Indiana and Michigan, together with the smaller, isolated regional cooperatives around the country. Only Texas has refused to cooperate with your directives, sir. The governor is still weighing the ramifications of your request.”
“It’s not a damned request,” said President Houston forcefully. He turned
to O’Donnell. “When we’re done here, I want to speak to that pompous ass in Austin. Who do those Texans think they are?”
“Sir, they’ve always been fiercely independent,” replied White. “Their grid will not suffer a cascading collapse like the Eastern and Western Interconnection will.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Ms. White, but these geostorms don’t play favorites, do they?”
She nodded. “Nor do they discriminate, sir. While it is true their grid is independent of the rest of the nation, a series of solar flares will have a devastating impact on their state as well.”
The president appeared puzzled and glanced over at O’Donnell and Taylor. “Did you say series of solar flares?”
White stepped back and allowed the representative from NASA to answer. “Mr. President, our Space Weather Prediction Center, in conjunction with the European Space Agency and the scientists at the ALMA Observatory in Chile, have confirmed a series of Earth-directed solar flares are imminent. We’ve further confirmed that little of the Northern Hemisphere will be spared.”
O’Donnell added, “Mr. President, governments from Moscow to Beijing to Tokyo are taking protective, continuity-of-government measures in light of these findings. We’ve begun the evacuation of the White House to several facilities around the country. Aircraft are on standby at Andrews Air Force Base to shuttle personnel to their appointed locations.”
“Where are we going?” asked the president.
O’Donnell hesitated and fidgeted somewhat. She avoided contact with White, who was not included in the evacuation plans, meaning she was on her own. Taylor, at the president’s insistence, had become a last-minute addition to the roster. Nonetheless, for security purposes, she didn’t disclose Raven Rock as his destination. “Sir, you and the closest members of your staff will be sent to an undisclosed location.”
“Um, I understand.” He turned to Taylor. “What is the timetable for these geostorms to hit us?”
“Mr. President, based upon our modeling, North America will begin to see the effects of the geomagnetic storms in twenty-four hours, with the full brunt of the highly charged particles infiltrating our atmosphere in thirty-six hours.”
“What does that look like?”
Taylor gestured toward a chair. “May I sit, sir? I haven’t slept in a day or so.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied. He motioned for everyone to take a seat except for his two constant companions, the Secret Service team who guarded each of the entrances to the Oval office. “Please continue.”
“The pattern of these energized particles reaching Earth’s atmosphere will be more episodic than continual. With the weakened magnetic field in some places, these particles will be able to reach the surface of the planet rather than being distributed through what’s left of the ionosphere.
“The galactic cosmic rays, which have been a continual threat as the magnetic field weakens, will be relentless in their intrusion. Our atmosphere will only deflect the slower, less dangerous particles. As a result, humans will be highly susceptible to skin disease and eye damage.”
The president turned to O’Donnell. “Haven’t we included in the martial law declaration a series of warnings and suggestions about this?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve included the warnings as well as suggestions on how Americans should govern themselves when exposed to the sun. Hopefully, they’ll heed the warnings.”
The president turned his attention back to the lifeblood of modern civilization. “Okay, now, let’s talk about the anticipated impact on electronics. Whether Texas toes the line or not, we’ve done all we can to allow for a restart of our grid. The military and governmental offices have been instructed on how to shield electronics from these harmful particles. How will we be able to measure the impact of these geostorms on our way of life?”
Taylor responded bluntly, “To be honest, sir, we’re sitting ducks. We do have France and Eastern Europe to guide us. The geostorm that struck them a week or so ago caught their governments off guard. As we’ve discussed, the relatively benign solar event had devastating consequences for anything associated with electronics, from the power grid down to cell phones.
“They’ve focused their efforts on trying to restore power and recover from the geostorm without regard to the continual threat, until now. Unfortunately, it’s too little, too late. You did the right thing, sir. It gave America a chance to rebuild once the magnetic poles stabilize.”
O’Donnell interrupted. “You mean return to their original position, right?”
“No, ma’am. I intentionally used the word stabilize. It’s quite possible, even likely, based upon the historic record, that multiple poles may result from this extraordinary geologic event. They may stabilize for many years, even thousands upon thousands. Or, as has occurred in the past, they may return to geographic north and south.”
“When will we know this?” asked the president.
Taylor looked over at White, who sat emotionless, lending no support to her whatsoever. “Um, sir, basically, we’ll know when it’s over.”
The president shook his head. “You can’t predict it?”
“No, sir. Like this pole shift, the signs were there, but the rapid movement caught the entire scientific community off guard. It was possible in theory and occurred in the past, as I’ve pointed out in our previous briefings, but it had not happened during the period of advanced technology. This is new ground, sir.”
“We’ve talked about so many scenarios, and truthfully, I’ve governed on a reactionary basis. Now it’s time to get down to brass tacks. How bad can it get?”
Taylor rubbed her temples. “Worst case, we could be experiencing a terminator event. Because we are at the end of one solar cycle and the beginning of another, the sun may experience cataclysmic magnetic field collisions, resulting in gargantuan tsunamis of plasma charging across the solar disk for weeks at a time.
“During these solar tsunamis, gigantic sunspots will form near strong magnetic field lines, which are cooler than other parts of the sun’s surface. These are similar to the active regions being reported at ALMA now.
“The sun will begin to eject this plasma in all directions, and inevitably, Earth will be bombarded. In our atmosphere’s weakened state, the planet could be subjected to a continuous barrage of solar winds, stripping away our protective shield. The face of the planet as we know it will likely change forever.”
“What’s the best case?” he asked.
“The poles return to their geographic north and south just as quickly as they shifted,” Taylor responded. “The planet will go through a period of turmoil, but it will not experience the type of cataclysm I’ve just laid out.”
The president was desperately seeking answers or any information to provide hope to the nation and himself. “What are the odds of either of these happening? Just give me your best guess.”
Taylor grimaced. “It could go either way, sir. I’d honestly say fifty-fifty that the poles return to their previous geographic location. Or they continue to wander, resulting in a climatic change modern man has never seen, nor imagined.”
Chapter 17
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Chapman began to carefully place his father’s body into the back of the truck when Levi reached out and gently tapped him on the arm. “Just a second more. Dad has begged and prayed for rain. Let him take on a few drops before we head home.”
Levi cradled his arms under Squire’s body, and the two brothers held their father as the raindrops pelted their faces. Salty tears mixed with the fresh rain, allowing the men to hold their father in a group hug that strengthened the bond between them.
They finally succumbed to the increasing intensity of the downpour and placed Squire inside. Their touching moment was short lived as refugees disrespectfully interjected themselves.
“Hey, give us a ride to Toledo!”
“Are you headed toward Gary?”
“Listen, I’ll buy your gas from you,” said anot
her, prompting a battle for the Boones’ precious fuel.
Isabella was shoved against the side of the truck, and a burly man tried to wrestle the five-gallon plastic container out of Chapman’s grip. This proved to be a mistake.
Levi jumped on the man’s back and wrapped his right arm around his neck. He forced his left arm behind the man’s head. The man began to swat at Levi, but his defensive move only allowed Levi to strengthen his grip. He grabbed at Levi’s forearms, but Levi tightened his grip.
He had a crazed look in his eyes, one driven by frustration and anger. His father had been taken from him and there were people responsible. Levi wanted to exact revenge, but for now, the man attacking his brother would do.
The man loosened his grip on Chapman, who fought off a man and a woman who tried to use the melee as an opportunity to steal the fuel for themselves. Isabella joined the fray, turning the rifle around to use it as a club, weakly but efficiently hitting the woman attacker in the back of the head. She fell face-first in a puddle of muddy rainwater.
Chapman rolled around and forcefully brought his knee up into the man’s groin, and the man let out a groan. Winded, he fell, hitting his head on the step rail just below the doors.
Chapman scrambled to his feet and retrieved the fuel. Isabella pointed the rifle at the bystanders, who immediately backed away. They both noticed the fight at the rear of the truck simultaneously.
“Levi! Ease up! You’ll kill him!”
“Don’t care,” growled Levi as he began to hoist the man off the ground with his death grip. His attacker’s eyes were closed and his large body was growing limp.
Chapman glanced around and set the gas can on the ground. The rain picked up and he rushed to stop his brother. A couple made a single step toward the fuel, and Isabella threatened them by pointing the rifle, first at the man and then at the woman.
“Levi, you gotta stop,” urged Chapman. “Look, he’s passed out.” Chapman tugged at his brother’s powerful arms, making sure to make eye contact as he pleaded with him to let go.
