Geostorm The Pulse: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The Geostorm Series Book 2)

by Bobby Akart

  “What the hell?” said Eddie, angry at being awakened.

  “Shhh!” admonished Karl.

  Levi joined in. “Something’s out there. Quiet.”

  The crunching in the snow stopped, and then the loud-pitched, earsplitting sound of something clawing the outside of the plane frightened the guys.

  Eddie started to squirm, and then he felt the pain of his broken arm. “Oh, gawd, that hurt.”

  “Shut up, Eddie,” ordered Karl just loud enough to be heard.

  The movement outside stopped. The guys held their breath and remained completely still, waiting to see what would happen next. It only took a second for them to find out.

  THUD!

  Something large rammed the side of the tail section, causing Karl’s side of the plane to dent inward. Eddie screamed and the guys began shouting a ripe mixture of profanities.

  BOOM!

  The next attack on their shelter was harder this time.

  “What do we do?” asked Karl.

  Levi replied calmly, “Keep your rifle trained on the opening. Shoot anything that moves!”

  “What if it’s a bear?” asked Eddie.

  “Then we frickin’ kill it!” shouted Levi. Then he began to implement some defensive measures. Animals in the wild aren’t interested in human interaction. He’d watched survival shows on the National Geographic Channel that revealed the things to do if being attacked by bears. “Pound the top of the plane and yell. That should scare it off.”

  The guys began to bang the top and sides of the tail section with their fists while Eddie stomped his feet to assist. All three yelled in an effort to frighten away whatever was pounding Karl’s side of the wreckage. After a moment, they stopped and listened.

  Thirty seconds passed and they couldn’t hear a sound. Eddie was the first to declare victory.

  “I think we scared him off.”

  Karl agreed. “I think you’re—”

  BOOM!

  The noise reverberated in their ears like a bass drum being pounded with its felt-covered beater.

  The creature slammed into Levi’s side of the plane, denting the tail section so hard that it jabbed into his ribs.

  Levi was pissed. “That’s it!”

  He forced the backpack out of the opening and scrambled out of the wreckage, using his arms to pull himself forward. He rolled out onto the snow and immediately rose to one knee with his rifle trained on his side of the aircraft.

  But there was no target in sight.

  “What is it?” asked Karl.

  Levi replied, “Hold on.” He rose to a low crouch and began to inch toward the side of the plane. His eyes darted into the dark forest, searching for signs of movement. As he got closer to the point of impact, he swung back and forth, thinking he heard footsteps. He wished he had his night-vision scope, but they were now illegal in Ontario.

  The snow had stopped falling and the skies were beginning to clear, allowing the stars to peek through. Levi steadied his nerves and took in a deep breath of fresh Canadian air. It would’ve been invigorating had it not been for their circumstances. It was getting colder as the storm passed over them, leaving them at great risk of exposure.

  “Levi!”

  “Yeah, sorry! I think it left, whatever it was.”

  Karl shouted back, “I’m comin’ out.”

  Seconds later, the two guys were walking around the plane, feeling the fuselage as they used their hands to guide them in the low light.

  “This had to be a moose,” said Levi.

  “Maybe even a bull,” added Karl. “Something, maybe antlers, scratched the side of the plane. It was like nails on a chalkboard.”

  Eddie chimed in, “Yeah, well, I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m cold, my arm is killing me, and nobody’s comin’ for us. I vote we head out of this snow-swamp crap and find help.”

  Levi approached the opening to the tail section and reached his friend, who was standing several feet away.

  “Eddie, we can’t go anywhere right now,” said Levi. “If it stays clear, we can try in the morn—”

  Levi never finished his sentence. The thumping of hooves in the snow preceded the throaty, airy grunt of an animal approaching them. Levi reacted on instinct.

  He raised his rifle and fired in the dark toward the clomping sound. The bullet whizzed past Eddie and struck a tree, shattering the bark and embedding with a thud.

  “Run, Eddie!” shouted Karl, who also raised his rifle.

  Eddie ran between the guys, who both fired into the darkness toward the baritone grunting creature.

  One of their bullets found the target. The animal let out a cough, followed by a groan before it hit the ground so close to the guys that white, powdery snow flew onto their faces.

  “Got him!” said Levi.

  “No, I hit him,” said Karl as he pushed ahead of Levi to confirm the animal was dead.

  “Come on, I fired first,” argued Levi.

  “And missed.”

  Levi joined his side and Karl flicked on the lighter. Two gaping bullet holes appeared between the bull moose’s massive velvety antlers. The eleven-hundred-pound male was dead.

  The guys spontaneously tried to exchange high fives but missed each other’s hands due to the darkness.

  “Team effort, right?” asked Levi.

  “I’ll take it. Our first kill. But how are we gonna get it back to camp?”

  Karl and Levi began to laugh when Eddie joined them.

  “This ain’t over,” he began, causing Karl and Levi to notice the seriousness in his voice. “Listen.”

  Levi held his breath to listen to the sounds of the Hudson Bay Lowlands. The wolf chorus had begun again.

  Chapter 21

  American Airlines Flight

  United States Atlantic Seaboard

  For some unknown reason, a chill came over Chapman and the hair rose on the back of his neck. A feeling of dread overcame him, but he fought it off, visibly shaking his shoulders and sitting a little taller in his seat. Neither he nor Isabella had been able to sleep. In part because they were hyped up as they flew toward a new adventure with unknown challenges, but mostly because they were enjoying each other’s company.

  Their whirlwind romance had developed at lightning speed and with an unexplainable urgency. It was based in part on physical attraction, but it first developed out of mutual respect for one another’s intelligence.

  Chapman wanted to keep the conversation going to avoid worrying about what would confront them once they landed at John F. Kennedy airport in Queens, New York. They’d been holding hands for hours, bonding in a way that allowed for physical touch and subdued public intimacy. To the casual observer, they looked like a nice couple who’d enjoyed the trip of their dreams to Paris and were exhausted from taking in all of the sights at once.

  He tilted his head toward Isabella and asked, “May I ask you an honest question?”

  “Yes, of course. There should always be honesty between us.”

  “Isabella, you’re a beautiful, brilliant woman. I find you extremely attractive and funny at the same time, especially with the thing about the butter knife.”

  “That was not a joke, Chapman.”

  “Okay, let me add badass to the list of things I adore about you.”

  “You are preparing me for something. What is it?”

  “No, no. I promise. No surprises from me. It’s just that, um, you are perfect in every way.”

  She laughed and kissed his hand. “In your eyes, yes.”

  “I think it would be in any man’s eyes. Have you ever married or had a serious relationship?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Prince Charming,” she replied with a joke. “I saw you in action earlier, remember?”

  “Oh, that was just an act for your benefit. I saw you watching.”

  “Liar!” she exclaimed loud enough to attract the attention of a man seated across the aisle. She lowered her voice. “You didn’t see me. You were flirting.
”

  Chapman blushed. He was busted. “Okay, I do flirt too much. But it’s harmless, usually. Truthfully, I’ve never wanted to have a serious relationship. Have you had any?”

  “No. I have taken lovers, but it was not emotional.”

  Chapman didn’t understand French women, so he treaded lightly as he broached the subject of their first night together. “Is that what you thought about me, you know, the first night?”

  Isabella laughed. “No, you are different. You are a man who has my interest beyond sexual attraction. Perhaps a man who has something much more.”

  “So you decided to try before you buy?”

  Isabella was confused. “What?”

  “It’s an American saying. Retail stores offer the consumer the opportunity to purchase their products without commitment. If the customer keeps the product, then their credit card is charged. If they return it, then they don’t pay. It’s called try before you buy.”

  Isabella stuck her chin out and shrugged. “I suppose it is the same. I want to know someone better before I invest any time with them. In the past, no man has caught my attention to be more than a try before you buy item.”

  Isabella paused and then asked, “Have you been married or had a serious love in your life?”

  “Not really. I love my job, and in my free time, I enjoy learning about the planet. I always thought a wife or even a girlfriend would get in the way of that. You know, pull me away from my passion.”

  Isabella laughed and bent across the armrest to kiss him. “You see why I have never taken a husband. Men are demanding of my time. They get jealous of my career and research. They want me to have babies and stay home to cook dinner. That is not who I am, so I have remained single.”

  Chapman digested her statement and decided to avoid the topic of children. They’d just met, and it was far too early to talk about things like marriage and kids. He relayed his true feelings. “I think you and I are the same. We love what we do, and our greatest fear is that a relationship would stand in the way of our aspirations. Before you, I’d never met a woman who would be my partner as well as the love of my life.”

  Isabella looked into his eyes in the dimly lit cabin. “Do you think I am that woman? A partner?”

  “Yes, and the love of my life.”

  Isabella began to shake her head, feigning disagreement. “Chapman Boone, you do not know me. I am very difficult to be around. I am strong headed. Have you noticed that I am always right?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “Well, sometimes I am not right. I need a man who will remind me when I am, um, too much.”

  “I will do that for you.”

  “You must also remember that I am my own person capable of making my own decisions. I do not need a man to tell me what to do or take care of me. I have been independent for too long.”

  Chapman loved to hear her open up. “Okay, that is a fair request. However, will you let me pretend to take care of you?”

  “Oui, of course. I hope that you will. I just do not want you to feel an obligation.”

  Chapman reached out to touch her face. He kissed her and then whispered into her ear, “Equal partners.”

  “It is agreed, equal partners, um, as you Americans say, with benefits.”

  “Oh, yes. I like the benefits.”

  She pushed him away and then suddenly blurted out, “STEVE!”

  Isabella was looking across the aisle through the portholes on the north side of the aircraft. Chapman’s first assumption was that she’d seen an old boyfriend in the midst of their intimate conversation. He pressed his back against his seat so she could lean across his lap. Then he saw what she was referring to.

  STEVE was an acronym for strong thermal emission velocity enhancement, a mouthful to be sure. STEVE was an atmospheric phenomenon that created a rare aurora-like glow that appeared as a ribbon of light in the sky. It was a somewhat rare occurrence caused by a wide ribbon of superheated plasma creating the streak of light purple and green light extending across the night sky.

  “Impossible,” she muttered.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” added Chapman. “If the pole has shifted as we suspect, then this aurora can’t be happening in Canada unless—”

  His sentence was cut off by his partner, Isabella. “Dipoles. The north magnetic pole has shifted across Siberia, but a second geomagnetic pole has remained closer to true north.”

  “This could explain the severe weather anomalies,” added Chapman. “And animal confusion.”

  “Do you know what else this means? The South Pole is likely shifting and may have, in fact, split into two regions like the north magnetic pole.”

  “The hot ribbon of ionized gas that everyone on the plane is admiring is bad news for our planet,” cautioned Chapman. He lowered his voice so he wasn’t overheard. “Isabella, this could have a catastrophic impact on the balance of the Earth’s geologic formations. We’ve always known the Earth to have two dominant poles and several very weak quadrupolar poles, of which there are, mathematically, about eight. However, in modern history, these weak departures of the local geographic field have little physical impact on the planet. From what I can see of the intensity of this STEVE, the dipolar effect could possibly create movement in the tectonic plates.”

  Isabella whispered back, “Volcanic, earthquake, and wide temperature swings.”

  Chapman grimaced. “Yes. The upheaval could change the face of the planet.”

  They sat in silence, digesting the ramifications of what other passengers were declaring to be the most beautiful sight they’d ever witnessed.

  Chapman noticed the sky brightening toward the east, and he checked his watch. He craned his neck to search for lights along the Atlantic Seaboard, but couldn’t see any. He performed the time calculations in his head. Either the aircraft was woefully behind schedule, or America was in the dark.

  Chapter 22

  American Airlines Flight

  United States Atlantic Seaboard

  Long-haul transatlantic flights can be exhausting for crew and passengers, even aboard the massive luxury airliners like the Boeing 777. The crew, including flight attendants, were encouraged to take periodic breaks in the lounge and six tiny windowless bedrooms known as crew rest compartments, or CRCs.

  A secret staircase leads to the bedroom area nestled behind the cockpit and above the first-class passenger rows. The crew members could stretch out, pull a curtain closed, and immerse themselves in quiet solitude courtesy of sound-blocking BOSE headsets.

  Captain Chuck Whittaker decided to take a respite during the final hours of the Paris to New York flight. He stretched his six-foot-three frame into a bunk bed that felt more like a coffin than a place to sleep. It was cramped but better than trying to nap in the body-hugging seat in the cockpit.

  He’d been flying American Airlines jets for twenty-seven years. Retirement was on the horizon, and he’d become more excited about spending the rest of his life on his farm outside Charlotte, North Carolina, than flying his final hours as a commercial pilot.

  Captain Whittaker had received a message from American Airlines dispatch in Fort Worth, Texas, that flights originating out of Europe would be blocking passenger access to the internet. Initially, there was no explanation, and he spent the first half of the flight speculating with his copilots about the reasons.

  When he decided to lie down and rest, he assumed the internet restrictions applied to the CRC as well. Nonetheless, he picked up one of the iPads provided in each bunk and launched the Safari app. He was shocked to find complete access to the web.

  He was even more shocked to learn what had happened in Eastern Europe. Rumors were rampant as to the cause of the widespread power outage that had thrust much of the continent into darkness. He scoured the web looking for credible, verifiable reporting on the reasons for the widespread collapse of the European power grid. Theories ranged from cyber attacks to excessive heat conditions to squirrels eating through electrical lines
.

  He was devouring every article he could find when the lead flight attendant came to the CRC and advised him that the first officer needed him back on the flight deck immediately. She didn’t know why, only that it was urgent.

  Whittaker checked his watch. They were an hour and a half from their later-than-scheduled arrival at JFK due to unusual headwinds. He slipped on his shoes and shoved the iPad under a pillow. He told the lead flight attendant to advise all of her crew to be prepared to wrap up cabin service quickly if notified.

  He raced back to the cockpit and was greeted by First Officer Connor Shields, who got right to the point. “Chuck, we’ve just been advised by JFK tower to divert.”

  “Why?”

  “The FAA, on orders of the president, has grounded all commercial and private aircraft across the continental U.S. Once all inbound flights are on the ground, air travel is suspended until further notice.”

  “Any explanation?”

  “Nope, and I pressed them.”

  Whittaker ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He got settled into the captain’s seat and buckled up his harness. “Okay, where are we headed?”

  “Um, we don’t know yet. All they would tell us was that JFK will not be able to accommodate our landing there and to stand by for another destination.”

  “Not be able to accommodate? Seriously? They used those words?”

  Shields nodded and held his hands up with a shrug. “It takes a lot of runway to land one of these birds. There aren’t that many in the vicinity of JFK that can handle us.”

  “Sir, fuel is also an issue,” added the other copilot of the enormous aircraft. “We pretty much fought upper-level winds during the entire trip across the ocean. We’re not in a position to go runway shopping.”

  Whittaker took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay, let’s get AA operations on the line and try to get some answers from our people. Meanwhile, raise JFK tower and—”

  “Chuck,” interrupted Shields, “they’ve just advised us to continue this circular holding pattern. It extends from Long Island southward along the coast to the mouth of Delaware Bay and back up again.”