“This missile can be put onboard a tanker ship, or maybe a submarine, and shot into the atmosphere about three hundred miles up. A rocket out of the Atlantic launched over the East Coast would take out power to that area and have a domino effect on the rest of the three U.S. power grids, including one right here in Texas. A missile shot out of the Gulf of Mexico, off the coast of Houston or Louisiana, can be detonated over the Midwest and potentially take out all the grids at once, leaving all of America, and possibly some of Canada and Mexico, in the dark. One can even be dropped from a satellite right over the middle of our great country.
“When the grids go down, it destroys huge expensive transformers that are mostly manufactured in Europe. It takes about two years to make one and another six months to get here by boat during optimal conditions. We as a country will need a lot of these to get back up and running.
“Our jobs here at the office are done. I want to thank you all for a great eight years.”
“Wait just a minute!” came a stern voice from the back of the room. It was Janice, one of our medical assistants. “So you’re saying we are getting fired? I have a family and I really need this job. I do a good job here. We all do.”
“Janice, I don’t think you understand what has happened here,” I replied. “None of us have a job anymore, including me. Our job, all of our jobs now, is to survive and take care of our families.
“Let’s get to the ‘what do I do now’ part. There should be enough natural light in here for anyone who wants to take notes.
“I know that everyone here lives in a different direction from this office. For those that may not know, I live in McKinney, exactly nineteen miles from here when walking. Don’t ask me how I know this or you may think I’m off my rocker. The rest of you live between two and forty miles away, as far as I know. You all need to walk home.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” asked one of the patients. “I’m not walking all the way home. Besides, someone will be by here soon to help us.”
“Really?” I was getting a little annoyed, but I had to make my point. “Who’s going to come?” I asked.
“The Police, of course. They will help all of us.”
“The Police?” I asked, with a touch of sarcasm in my voice. “How will they get here?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said the patient. “They just will.”
“Who here personally knows a Police officer? Raise your hand.” To my surprise almost everyone raised their hands. “OK, keep your hands up if the officer you know has a family,” I said. Almost all the hands stayed up. “OK now, keep your hands up if you believe the officer you know will run around trying to help a bunch of people they don’t know before they check on their own families.” All the hands went down. This one I expected.
“Most of these good people are no doubt stranded, just like you, and will be making their way home on foot to ensure the safety of their families. There won’t be many who will return to work after that.”
“What’s that bag you got there?” asked a man from the back of the room, who I didn’t recognize. I wanted to be careful about my answer. I was suddenly aware that my backpack was creating a lot of attention. I had grabbed my get-home backpack from the truck after I checked to see if it would start. Some prepared people might call it a bug-out bag. But with a wife, three kids and a dog, I was going to need a hell of a lot bigger bag if I wanted to bug out. Right now, I just wanted to get home…and quick.
“OK, everybody. Let’s stay focused,” I announced, trying to get their minds off my backpack. “You really have two choices. You can stay here and take your chances of somehow being rescued by our government, or you can decide your own destiny by walking home.
“Both will be dangerous and overwhelming, but I believe that walking home is the only chance for each of us. If you will take my advice, I would recommend we figure out which direction we are all going and team up for at least part of the journey. If we had transportation, I would drive each of you home. But since we don’t, I’ll be heading north to McKinney, and soon. Anyone heading that direction is welcome to join me.
“There are a few things you need to know, whether you are staying or going.
“You have a window of about three days before people realize that the power is not coming back on and there is no more appreciable law enforcement to keep the peace.
“Anyone who remembers Hurricane Katrina will recall what happened when just a part of one city, New Orleans, was transformed into complete chaos—with violence, rapes and killings in a matter of a couple of days when the power went out and there was no more food and water.
“You have 24-48 hours before every grocery store is cleaned out completely…and they will not be restocked without functioning food trucks. There is an Albertsons one mile south of here, at the southwest corner of Preston and Forest Lane. They will only be taking cash, I assume. I will stop there on my way out and get as much food and supplies as I can buy, and I’ll take the best cart with me to push home. These carts can hold up to 500 pounds and will carry a lot of goods.
“We have about eight five-gallon Ozarka water bottles full in this office. We will divide this evenly among all here. I again advise each of you to get home as quickly as possible, before things get really bad. Any questions?”
The group was silent. I was shocked that there was not one question after I told them their lives were about to change forever. Then I realized they were all stunned. Well, at least they believe me, I thought.
One of my front desk girls began to sob loudly. “My babies…my babies,” she cried. “How am I going to get to them? They are in daycare and I can’t call anyone.”
“Listen,” I told her. “The daycare is going to hold on to all of the kids until the parents come. What city do you live in?” I asked, feeling a little bad that I didn’t know. She had been my employee for two years.
“I live in Mesquite,” she said, “about fifteen miles away.”
“OK,” I told her, “if you get started quick you can get there by tomorrow morning. Who else is going in that general direction?” A man and two women, all patients, raised their hands. “OK,” I said, “there you go.
“Let’s get grouped up, unless you are staying here. Those heading north with me, stand here; south over there; east on this side; and west over by the desk there.” Everyone grouped up except four people I didn’t recognize. They were new patients, I guessed. They just sat in the back…
* * *
Chapter Two ~ McKinney, Texas
Joy and the boys were at gymnastics when the lights went out.
I never got why a two-year-old and four-year-olds should have gymnastic classes. To Joy’s credit, they did love it, except for Jax when they did backward flips. He would say, “Mommy, tell Ms. Kelly not to put me upside-down because I don’t like it.”
Having three boys was crazy, to say the least. Last week Jax said, “I don’t like the Big Bad Wolf because he eats little pigs.” Hudson then said, “Jax, you eat pigs; we all do.” Jax responded with, “Yeah, I love ham and bacon.”
Hendrix was finishing his second somersault when everything got quiet. “Who turned the light off?” he asked, giggling as a two-year-old will do when anything unplanned happens.
“Let’s get all the kids over to the main desk. Does anyone have a flashlight?” asked one of the head trainers.
Joy got the boys together and started putting on their shoes and socks. After a few minutes of fumbling in the dark, she remembered the flashlight on her cell phone. “Thank you, Lord,” she said, as she pulled her phone out of her purse. She pushed the power button and nothing happened. No sound, no screen. “Oh shit,” she said. “No no no no no! Please God, not this...” She grabbed the kids and didn’t wait for Hudson to fool around with his shoes.
“‘Where are we going, Mommy,’” asked Hudson. “We have to start the car, Sweetie. Let me try it before we get in.” She said a prayer out loud as she turned the key. There was nothing… No
sound, no clicks, no motor turning over. Just…nothing...
“OK, boys,” she said, seemingly without a care in the world. “We’re going for a walk. Hudson, let’s get your shoes on.”
In a flash she remembered to check her trunk space. There she found the get-home supplies I had left her. “Thank you, Lord, for that,” she whispered. “Please watch over my boys as we head back home.” She had been going to gymnastics for months and knew that it was about ten miles to get home.
“OK, guys,” she said in a fun, let’s-go-to-the-park kind of voice. “Let’s see what Daddy left us in the backpack.” “Yeah!” came the almost immediate response from all the boys at once. She started with the main part of the pack and found the water, snacks, ravioli and spaghetti.
“Mommy, I want bisquetti,” said Hendrix. “Hold on, Sweetie,” she said. “Let’s look at everything first.”
Then she started on the outer pockets. The first one held the Swiss Army knife and four sets of light rain gear. Three kids’ size and one adult. The next one held the flashlight, matches and sunscreen. Thank God for sunscreen, she thought to herself. With Jax and Hendrix both being fair redheads, they tended to burn easily. The last pocket contained $600 cash in 20s, 10s and 5-dollar bills. It also held her M&P shield 9mm with a loaded magazine with 9mm hollow points, two extra magazines and 50 9mm ball shells.
“What’s that, Mommy?” asked Hendrix. “That’s Mommy’s gun,” said Hudson matter-of-factly.
“How do you know what that is?” asked Joy. “Well,” said Hudson, “it looks like my play gun but it’s shinier and Daddy left it for us, so it’s yours.”
Joy was a bit nervous about the gun, as she had only shot it at the range a few times, but she felt a little better having it. “OK, guys. Time to go,” she said as she glanced at her watch. It read 10:02 a.m. and the second hand was still. “OK,” she said out loud. “It must be about 10:20 now and we have a long way to...”
“Where are you headed?” came a voice from directly behind her. She instinctively swung around, still holding the backpack.
There stood a man, only feet away from her, with long greasy hair and a heavy blondish beard. He was carrying a plain paper bag with something in it, but she couldn’t tell what. From the smell of him, she thought it must be cheap beer.
“Where you headed?” he asked again, but this time added “Sweet Darlin’” to the end. “Nowhere,” she said. “Please leave us alone.”
“You don’t have to act like that to me, especially now,” the man said. “What do you mean?” she said, trying not to upset him as she thought about which pocket the gun was in.
“Get behind me, boys, and stay there.”
“I mean, bitch, that no one’s coming to help you,” he said. “You’re all alone right here right now.” He took a step toward her and quickly grabbed her left arm.
She screamed “Get the hell off me,” as she kicked him in the groin. By this time the boys were all crying and saying, “Leave my mommy alone!”
He fell to his knees, cursing at her. She reached behind her, not turning her back to him and frantically checked the pockets for the gun. In the second pocket she found it and pulled it out, leveling it at the man’s chest as he gained his composure.
He was pissed. “You’re going to pay for that,” he snarled. “Back up and leave us alone,” Joy told him. Her finger was now on the trigger. “I don’t want to shoot you but I will if I have to.”
“You wouldn’t do it. You’re scared. I can see it in your eyes.” He reached for the gun and she squeezed the trigger. She couldn’t believe she was going to have to shoot someone in front of her boys. The trigger was stiff and for a moment she was confused. Was the safety on? Did the gun jam? Oh God, this wasn’t good. He lunged for her in an awkward drunken motion and grabbed her hair.
She squeezed the trigger again and nothing. As he yanked her head toward him all she could hear was the boys screaming “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”
Was this it? Was this the end? How did this happen so quickly? In a last-ditch effort she brought the gun up to the side and hit him just above his left ear with a thud.
He screamed and fell to the ground, holding his head, with blood pouring from between his fingers. Before he could say a word she hit him again, this time swinging backhand from left to right, catching him on the bridge of his nose. She heard a sickening crunching sound and now blood was pouring from his nose. He started to choke on the blood as he was trying to talk. The boys had stopped screaming and were quietly sobbing just behind her, at her feet.
She took a step back and looked at the gun. Think, she thought. Just think! She checked the magazine. Yes, there were bullets. She checked the safety and it was off. Then it dawned on her. Lance had always said he would load and insert the magazine into the gun. He would not have put a live round into the chamber as long as the kids could be in the car.
She racked the slide and saw the indicator telling her there was a round in the chamber. In a jolt she realized she was not paying attention to the man in front of her. She pointed the gun at the man and screamed, “Do you want me to shoot you now? In front of my children? Is that what you want?” But he didn’t respond. He didn’t move. He wasn’t even choking anymore.
“Mommy, is he OK?” asked Jax through his tears. “He’s just sleeping, Honey. We need to go right now,” she said.
She was calmly looking around the parking lot as they walked off, looking to see if anyone was watching them. Inside she was panicked. Oh my God, she thought. Did I just kill someone? How can I explain that? How am I going to get my boys home safely? We have ten miles to go!
Before she knew it, they were a half mile down Stacy Road towards home. Now the boys had stopped crying and were saying they were tired and wanted to stop walking.
She could see someone a few hundred yards ahead of them, coming towards them, pushing a grocery cart. She put her hand on the gun and started to walk to the other side of the street. As the figure got closer she could see it was a young woman of maybe 22 or 23 years old. She was emaciated and looked sick. She was pushing a large grocery-store cart with two small plastic grocery bags in it.
“Hello,” Joy called from across the street, as the lady came into hearing distance. “Whatcha want anyway?” asked the sickly looking lady. “I just want to talk to you for a minute,” said Joy. She remembered what Lance had said about trying to get a grocery cart to carry goods and, more importantly, haul the kids. “Where did you get that cart?” Joy asked. “I just found it and it don’t matter where,” replied the girl with a bit of sarcasm. “I was just asking so I might be able to find one too,” said Joy. “My boys are getting tired and since our car broke down we have to walk a ways.”
“So you want my cart—is that it?” the woman laughed. “Well, you’re not getting it. So sorry your luxury SUV broke down and now you have to slum it like the rest of us.” Joy could now see that she was missing more than a few teeth and looked strung out. She decided to push the envelope, even if it made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t about to take this cart by force, even though she knew she could. But she had to find a way to get it.
“When was your last fix?” Joy asked boldly. “What did you say?” retorted the girl, sounding offended. “I’m sorry,” added Joy, “but I just thought maybe you could use some extra cash. Guess I was wrong.”
“Now wait a minute,” replied the girl, her interest now obviously peaked. “What are you willing to give me for my groceries and cart?” “I don’t want your groceries,” said Joy. “I just need the cart.” “What are you offering?” asked the girl, with a bit of a smile, like she was about to negotiate a large real-estate deal. “How about $10?” Joy replied.
“Are you kidding me? I gots to walk another three miles and without this cart it’s going to take me a while. I want $100 and no less, or we’re done here.” The shaking girl was feeling confident, to say the least.
“How are the wheels on it?” Joy asked, without agreeing to the pr
ice. Without hesitation the girl danced around the cart like Vanna White, lifting the cart on each corner and spinning the wheels. “See? Good as new. I don’t get them carts with the squeaky wheels. Them’s for suckers.”
“Mommy, I’m hot,” said Hudson. “Me too,” chimed in Jax and Hendrix. “I know, boys,” she replied. “Just give me a minute.”
Joy knew this cart was easily worth the $100 the girl was asking, but she needed to get some information first. She wasn’t too familiar with this area and wanted to find a grocery store sooner than later to stock up on what she could.
It was then that she noticed the cart said Target on it but the grocery bags said Kroger. “Why do your bags say Kroger and your cart is from Target?” “Does it really matter?” asked the girl, still a bit sarcastic. “It does if you want to make a deal,” exclaimed Joy.
Next World Series (Vol. 1): Families First Page 2
