by Bruno Miller
His job at the motorcycle shop back home wasn’t cutting it and left him feeling unsatisfied at the end of the day. He felt like it was a dead end with no chance for advancement. He began to consider a career in the military and thought maybe the army would be a good fit. After all, his dad had done pretty well for himself and retired at a young age. His girlfriend, however, wasn’t the least bit thrilled with the idea of him running off and joining the army, and it became the source of countless arguments.
Still, for all the fighting and animosity between them, he still loved her and was worried about her well-being. She had family in the area with a farm outside Olympia, and he hoped she survived the initial attack and was safe with them.
He had good reason to believe she was okay. Kate wasn’t your typical girly-girl, and with two older brothers and a father who were all avid outdoorsman, she had grown up a tomboy. Kate had a can-do attitude and wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. They spent a lot of their free time backpacking and hiking around Mt. Rainer National Park with her husky, Kenai. That dog was a light sleeper and very vocal about any noises he heard during the night around Kate’s apartment complex. There was no way Kenai would let her sleep through the EMP detonations. Another thing that gave him reason to hope was that she drove an ’82 Jeep CJ-7. She would have been able to drive to her family’s property outside of the city and get away from the dangers there.
“Hey, turn that up a little, will you?” Vince asked, looking at the lantern. His dad had the panel box open and was looking over the breakers. Cy had drifted off in thought and hadn’t realized how dim it was in there. He nodded and turned the gas feed up until the light filled the room.
“It should be okay to use the light back here. No one will be able to see it from out front,” his dad assured him.
But Cy was deep in thought again, this time about his mother. She was the exact opposite of Kate—and his dad, for that matter. Cy wasn’t as optimistic about her well-being. His mom was a big-time real estate agent in her own right and an even bigger socialite around Seattle. Her Sunday morning routine consisted of sleeping in and recovering from a busy weekend of parties or social events. She was a heavy sleeper and far from a morning person.
This past winter, he had a pipe break in his apartment, which caused a small flood and forced him to move out temporarily. He ended up staying with his mom for a few days while the repairs were done at his place. Tiptoeing around in the mornings got old fast, but it was better than the alternative of waking her up and subjecting himself to a mini-lecture about how she needed her rest and how not everyone was up and running by seven in the morning. Cy knew the chances of his mother waking up early today and escaping the high-rise luxury apartment building where she lived was very unlikely.
Still, though, he hung on to the hope that the noise of the detonations woke her up and she had made it out of the building. Or maybe the building survived the EMP pulse and remained intact. But he couldn’t help thinking about the high-rises in Indianapolis and how they weathered the blast. There wasn’t a single building that looked unaffected by the bombs. The image of shattered windows and burning buildings flashed through his mind as he tried to put it out of his thoughts.
Maybe Seattle hadn’t been hit. Maybe she was okay. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his mother was all right, he knew otherwise in his gut.
“Cy, are you okay?” His dad caught him off guard with the question.
“What? Oh yeah, I was just thinking…about Mom and Kate. Do you think they’re okay?” he asked.
His dad stopped flipping breaker switches and turned to look at Cy, his expression changing. “I don’t know.” Vince sighed. “It depends how hard Seattle was hit. It may not have been a target at all. Maybe they’re in better shape than we are. From what you’ve told me about Kate, she seems like she can take care of herself. You told me she drives an old Jeep, so she’d be able to make it out to her family’s place.”
Cy nodded as his dad turned his attention back to the panel box and began flipping breakers off again. His dad hadn’t really addressed his concerns about his mother, which told Cy all he needed to know.
“All right, here goes nothing.” Click. Vince threw a larger red switch between the electrical panel for the garage and the power inverter. Cy heard a distinct humming noise, and for a moment, he forgot about his troubles.
“See if you can get water out of the tap at the sink in the garage bay.” His dad tossed him the flashlight.
“Really?” Cy asked.
“Yeah, I’ve got everything turned off but the well pump. There should be enough solar power stored in the backup batteries to run the pump for a little while.”
Cy left the storage room and turned the flashlight on. He found the deep sink in the far corner of the garage bay and twisted the knob on the faucet. The faucet hissed and spat for a few seconds as he waited impatiently. Finally, he was rewarded with a slow but steady stream of water. He stuck his hands into the cool fresh water as it poured out of the tap, then brought a few handfuls up to his face. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the relief the water brought to his dirty, grit-encrusted face. He put his mouth to the faucet and took several large swallows of the clean water before thinking to call out to his dad.
“It’s working!” he yelled between gulps and noticed that his throat didn’t hurt when he talked anymore.
“Good. We’ll fill some containers and take it to the others,” his dad said.
When he had his fill, Cy turned the water off and grabbed a paper towel from the nearby dispenser to dry his face and hands. For the first time since they’d seen the EMPs detonate in Indianapolis, he felt like there was a chance that everything would be okay. Of course, okay meant something entirely different today than it had yesterday.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vince was relieved that the batteries had enough juice to run the well pump. They were lucky the circuit breaker had tripped and done its job when the EMP pulse hit. He wasn’t planning on taking any chances, though, and after they filled the containers of water to take back with them, he planned to throw the breaker again. He was careful to turn off all the breakers in the panel box to the exterior lights and anything nonessential. But even if there wasn’t anything on, the power would still drain out of the batteries. And with the skies filled with smoke, there was no telling how long they’d take to recharge.
Vince and Cy set about filling four of the large water storage containers that he sold with the camping gear in his store. They worked as fast as they could so they didn’t waste any of the power in the reserve batteries. There was a good chance they might need power again to retrieve more water before they saw sunlight and the solar panels could recharge the batteries.
He realized then that adding more batteries to the system to store the DC power from the solar panels would be important. Something else on his growing list of things to do. Car batteries would be the easiest and most available things to use. Most of the cars that were running seemed to have caught on fire, but he noticed several parked vehicles around town that looked intact—at least the ones that hadn’t been parked too close to any burning buildings.
If he could get enough car batteries and link them all together, they could store enough power to have a couple hours’ worth of utilities—enough to supply the motel rooms with electricity and running water for at least a couple hours per night if everyone agreed to conserve and limit their usage. Having water and power would be huge, and it would keep everyone’s morale up, which would be hard to do, given the dire circumstances.
Vince knew firsthand how the lack of basic creature comforts could tear a person down and rob them of the will to live or, at the very least, keep them from exerting any effort to survive. And there was going to be a great deal of effort needed in the coming days and weeks. He would need everyone chipping in and doing their share if they were going to make it. And he wanted to do more than just get by—not so much for himself, bu
t for Cy and Reese and the other kids.
It would be a long time before things returned to normal, and Vince doubted it would ever really be the same as it was. He felt guilty for his next thought, but maybe this was what the country needed in some ways. A hard reset.
In his opinion, the country had moved far from center, and politics had become increasingly divisive over the last couple decades or so. No one listened anymore, and it was all about who could shout the loudest and cry victim in the most convincing way. Special interest groups were running the country and shaping policy more than the elected officials. Vince couldn’t think of a single member of Congress or the Senate who he thought truly represented the people. The presidential elections over the last several cycles seemed more like schoolyard fights between two bullies. No matter who won, you were still going to lose your lunch money.
As far as he was concerned, the last good man for the job was Ronald Reagan, but they didn’t make them like that anymore. The kids growing up today were rewarded for mediocrity, and it was producing a generation of entitlement. Even if another Reagan were to come along, Vince wasn’t so sure he could accomplish anything in the current political climate. Even the media had chosen sides and wasn’t afraid to show their biases. Vince remembered when you could watch the news at night and get straightforward facts about events and decide for yourself. But those days were long gone, and facts no longer carried as much weight as feelings did. The line between news and so-called comedians on the late-night talk shows was so blurred at this point that it was hard to tell the difference. Bipartisanship was dead, and it was all about who could drag the other more deeply through the mud.
But none of that mattered anymore. For better or for worse, this was the beginning of a new era in this country, and they had no choice in the matter. Vince had a saying he liked to use when customers would stop by the garage and see their beloved vehicle in parts and pieces on the shop floor. He would tell them, “You’ve got to break a few eggs to make an omelet.” And it was safe to say all the eggs were broken now. That statement usually got a few nervous chuckles out of the customer, but there was nothing to laugh about now. It was true, though; things always looked their worst before getting better.
They had to remain hopeful. Otherwise, what was the point to all this? Vince had to believe there was a future for the kids and even him. As screwed up as the government was, the survivors would surely rise from the ashes and rebuild. Eventually, they would see the National Guard or FEMA camps for the survivors, although he was less excited about the latter. The question was, how long would it take before the common person was a priority for the government? Surely, it was in self-preservation mode right now and scrambling all available assets. Without communication, that would be tough. It could be weeks, months, or maybe even years before they got any help.
Vince remembered reading recently about the military’s efforts regarding EMP preparedness over the last few years. There were budget battles, and as usual, the wheels of progress moved slowly. But supposedly the military was beginning to implement some plans in case of an EMP attack and had begun to outfit equipment and vehicles for just such a scenario. Of course, he had no idea how far they had gotten or to what extent they were prepared.
From what Vince knew about EMPs, there was a lot of speculation on what would actually happen after multiple detonations. How far the pulse reached and the extent of damage largely depended on several factors. Two things that were mentioned in just about every article he read were the size of the bomb and the altitude at which it was detonated.
He was pretty sure what they had witnessed in Indianapolis was an HEMP or a high-altitude EMP. The higher the altitude, the bigger the affected area. Or so the theory said. In reality, it was better than a traditional nuclear weapon. If it had been a large detonation at ground level, they wouldn’t be here right now. Not that what had happened was good by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it wasn’t game over. Far from it, in fact, if Vince had any say in the matter.
As he and Cy loaded the last of the bright blue five-gallon water containers into the back of Bill’s Dodge, neither mentioned the bodies that lay on the ground by the Ford pickup. Vince sent Cy in to gather the guns they collected while Vince considered what to do. Part of him wanted to let them be and deal with it later, but it needed to be done sooner rather than later. In this heat, the task wasn’t going to get any more pleasant. It was best to get it over with.
Cy exited the store, juggling an armful of guns and wearing his mask again, while Vince locked the door behind him, although he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like it would stop anyone from accessing to the store. The gang of looters would think nothing of smashing the windows and taking what they wanted when they returned.
“You up to helping me move the bodies?” Vince positioned his mask back over his face.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Cy exhaled loudly as he unloaded the weapons into the bed of Bill’s truck and closed the tailgate.
“Let’s use the Ford,” Vince said.
“Where are we taking them?” Cy asked.
“Let’s take them around the outside of the fence to the back of the property.” Out of sight would be best, and later, if they found a piece of equipment, he could dig a hole in the field behind the garage and bury the bodies.
Careful and trying not to get any blood on themselves, they loaded the stiffening corpses one by one onto the tailgate of the Ford. Once they had them loaded, they got into the truck. Cy pushed the empty beer cans and trash out of his way with his feet as he sat in the passenger’s seat.
“What a mess.”
“Yeah, but not really a surprise, considering the people. Hey, check in the glovebox, will you?” Vince asked.
Cy popped open the small compartment. “Ammo!”
Vince leaned over and saw two boxes of shotgun shells. One was birdshot and the other was a smaller box of rifled deer slugs.
“Are they full?” Vince asked.
Cy opened both boxes and inspected them. “A little more than half a box of the number 3 bird load and all ten of the slugs.”
“Good. We’ll need ’em.” He was hoping for more assault rifle ammo, but this was better than nothing. The number 3 load would only be good for close range and probably wasn’t lethal to a human beyond twenty yards, but it would be a strong deterrent at least. The rifled slugs normally used for deer hunting were the real find. Although neither shotgun they had acquired looked to have a rifled barrel, the slugs would be much more accurate at longer ranges. Even in a shotgun with a smooth-bore barrel, the slugs would be accurate from seventy-five to a hundred yards out. It was the best thing they had next to the AR-15 and Bill’s hunting rifle.
Vince fired up the old Ford and put it into gear. He pulled around to the far side of the lot and backed the truck up along the outside fence line of his vehicle storage yard.
“Hang on.” Vince sped up as they neared the edge of the wheat field and then hit the brakes hard once they were over the property line and into the tall grass. The truck came to an abrupt stop as all but one of the bodies tumbled off the tailgate with a sickening thud.
“Wait here. I got it.” Vince threw the truck in gear and hopped out. Wading through the taller grass, he made his way to the rear of the truck and grabbed the pant leg of the remaining body. It didn’t take much effort to pull it out. He considered checking for ammo they might have been carrying but decided against it. He was tired of looking at them and just wanted to bring the water to the others. He closed the tailgate and joined Cy in the truck.
“Are we just going to leave them there?” Cy asked.
“For now. We’ll bury them later.” Vince hoped Cy didn’t think he was being too cold-hearted, but there was no time for that. Besides, those lowlifes didn’t deserve any more of their time. The others needed water, and Vince needed to get back and come up with a plan.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vince dropped Cy off at Bill’s truck and handed h
im the keys. In the trucks, the two headed back to the motel, and for the first time that day, Vince felt like they were making progress and had actually accomplished something besides managing to stay alive. He also realized just how physically and mentally exhausted he was. Even the hard and cracked vinyl seats in the pickup truck felt good right now, and he appreciated the chance to sit, even if it was only for the short time it took to drive across the street.
He was hungry and a little dehydrated, but he was sure he wasn’t alone in that. The others felt the same, he was sure. He didn’t carry much food in the store, but he did have the typical convenience store selection of snacks and candy on the shelves and a glass-front cooler filled with soda and sports drinks. He and Cy grabbed a small assortment of snacks and sports drinks to take back to the others as they were loading up.
It was Cy’s idea, and it was a good one. They would have to ration what food they had, but tonight was an exception. They had all been through a lot today, and as far as Vince knew, none of them had had anything to eat and very little to drink. What they gathered from the store wouldn’t make much of a meal, but it would be much appreciated. Besides, he needed everyone to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day that would surely test their limits.
Vince had multiple ideas and plans in his head. All would take a lot of manpower to accomplish. He would need every able-bodied person to be ready to work tomorrow. Of course, all this depended on the fires dying down and the smoke thinning out enough to see and breathe. He could rig up some more masks, but they weren’t that comfortable and tended to fog up quickly in this heat. Getting anything done while wearing them would be tough at best, and struggling to draw a full breath would be counterproductive. Most of them had breathed in enough smoke already.
