by Harley Tate
“I’m going with Madison. If this is nothing, I’ve got dibs on Mrs. Sloane’s peach pie.”
Brianna chewed on her lip. “Is your mom at home?”
Madison nodded.
“How are you planning to get there? You don’t have a car.”
Madison shrugged. “The bus. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ve done it before.”
“Don’t take the bus. You could get stuck halfway there.” Brianna glanced at Tucker. He nodded. “We’ll take you.”
“No!” Madison looked up, shaking her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve got family waiting for you.”
Her roommate smiled. “You’re family, too. Besides, Sacramento’s on the way to Truckee. If we leave now we can stop for gas, load up on supplies, and still make it to your mom’s place before traffic sets in.”
Madison thought it over. Hitching a ride with Brianna meant she’d be sure to get home before the CME reached Earth’s atmosphere. But she’d be putting Brianna and Tucker at risk. They should be worrying about their drive upstate, not whether Madison and Peyton made it to Sacramento.
She walked over to her desk and fished around in the drawer before pulling out a small pencil box. She opened it up and handed a wad of cash to Brianna. Madison always kept a stash of cash in case of emergencies. This definitely qualified. “If you’re taking us, then I’m buying supplies. It’s the least I can do.”
Her roommate took the money with a grin. “Deal. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Six
MADISON
Davis, CA
1:00 p.m.
Madison stood in the middle of the largest sporting goods store in town, unsure where to even begin. After filling up the tank of Brianna’s Wrangler, they had headed straight there.
It still seemed like overkill. She leaned toward Brianna. “I thought your parents were totally stocked. Why are we shopping? Shouldn’t we just get on the road?”
The distance between her and her mom made Madison nervous. She just wanted to get home, lock the doors, and relax, not pile a cart full of camping gear.
Brianna frowned, her big brown eyes intense as she stared at Madison. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?” She waved at the display of sleeping bags in front of them. “You really think any of this will be here in a few days? What if we have to bug out? What if we don’t make it to the cabin? We need to be prepared to be on our own.”
Madison shook her head. “Even if it’s as bad as Tucker says, it’s just a blackout. We’ve all lived through those before.”
“Not for a decade.” Tucker stopped beside her, a sleeping bag under each arm. “Once people figure out this isn’t a temporary thing, you really think they’ll wait in line for these?”
He waggled the bags before dumping them in a cart. “Think about it. No electricity means no central heat, no microwaves, no electric stoves. If we don’t have ways to stay warm and cook food without power, we won’t survive very long.”
Brianna agreed. “Think about all the people we know who don’t have more than a few days’ worth of food. You’ve seen the refrigerators on campus. Half of them only have beer and ketchup.”
“Expired ketchup.” Peyton added another two sleeping bags to the cart and pointed at the cold-weather gear. “You should grab a jacket. Maybe some clothes. Something you can wear for a while.”
“Cargo pockets. Look for lots of pockets.” Brianna patted the side of her pants. “I can put ammo or a knife or first aid supplies in here and not even notice it.”
“Ammo?” Madison’s brain must have misfired. She couldn’t have heard Brianna right. “For what? Hunting?”
“Yeah, but defense, too. If things go south, we’ll need to protect ourselves.”
It was like someone had swooped down and taken all of her friends and replaced them with crazy militia members convinced the end of the world was just around the corner. “You’re overreacting. All three of you.”
Brianna shook her head and headed toward the food section. “Keep telling yourself that and you’ll starve or get shot before the month is over.”
Madison’s mouth fell open and she stood there, gawking as Brianna and Tucker disappeared around the corner of an aisle.
“She’s got a flair for the dramatic, I’ll give you that, but you should listen to Brianna. It makes sense if you think about it.”
“Only if you believe the worst of people.”
Peyton snorted. “Guess I have more experience with that than you do.”
Without another word Peyton walked away, headed toward the hunting section. Madison stood alone, feeling like the only one of her friends who hadn’t completely lost her mind. She picked at a nail as she thought about Peyton’s comment. He was right.
Between his non-existent mother and jerk of a father, Peyton had seen the worst in people. Madison couldn’t say the same. Her parents had always been there for her, supporting her no matter what. Did that mean she was sheltered?
Was she wrong in thinking most of humanity wouldn’t devolve into petty criminals? The Girl Scout motto popped into her head: “Be prepared.” It wasn’t enough to be willing to help out. Ever since she had been a Brownie, her troop leaders explained that a Girl Scout needed to not just be willing to help, but to know how.
That applied even more so in an emergency. She couldn’t help people if she wasn’t prepared. Maybe she didn’t agree with her friends’ dire outlook on society, but she understood the desire to be prepared. It wasn’t overreacting or putting herself ahead of others.
Stocking up on supplies now meant she could do more to help those in need later when it really mattered. She didn’t have to hunker down in some fortified cabin in the woods like a hoarder. She could use her skills to support others who hadn’t thought this far ahead.
Madison put the last of her hesitations behind her and pulled out her phone. She tried to call her mom, but only got the same recording she’d heard a hundred times that day: All circuits are bust now, please try your call again. With a frown, Madison sent her mother another text:
I’m on the way home. Stay safe. I’ll be there soon.
She didn’t know if it would ever be delivered, but she needed to try. After shoving her phone in her back pocket, Madison headed to the cold-weather gear. She needed a winter coat and a good pair of boots to start.
Half an hour later, she tracked down Peyton in the firearms department, her arms already tired from lugging a parka, boots, gloves, pants, and as much other clothing as she could carry, across the store. She dumped it all in his cart and exhaled. “I’m as ready for a hike in the mountains in the dead of winter as I’ll ever be. A bunch of it was on clearance too.”
“Great.” Peyton didn’t even look up. His eyes were trained on the case of handguns in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying a gun.”
“How? Are you planning on coming back in a couple weeks?”
Peyton glanced up at Madison with a confused expression when a clerk appeared.
“Can I help you?” The man appeared to be a little younger than her dad, mid-forties most likely, with a haircut that screamed military. The tattoo peeking out from under his uniform polo could have been a globe and anchor. Marine Corps.
Madison smiled as he glanced at her. If the world weren’t about to end, this would be fun.
Peyton pointed at a handgun in the case. “I’d like to buy this one, please.”
The clerk raised an eyebrow and Madison bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Peyton had no idea about the gun laws in California. The closest he’d ever been to a handgun was standing next to a security guard at one of his dad’s music launch parties.
Madison had grown up target shooting with her dad and knew the laws in California were only getting tighter. Brianna had complained more than once about the unfairness of it all every time a new law was passed.
After a moment, the clerk nodded. “Okay. I’ll need your
driver’s license, proof of age, proof of residency, and your Firearms Safety Certificate.” He pulled out a stack of papers from under the counter. “Then you’ll need to fill out this form. If everything checks out, we can do the safe handling demonstration.”
Peyton’s eyes almost crossed. “Wait a second. I don’t even know what half of that means. Can you start again?”
The clerk flashed one of those smiles that said he’d been there a million times before, but he obliged. “First time, huh?”
Peyton nodded.
“All right. First, you have to be twenty-one to purchase a handgun. From the looks of the pair of you, you’re probably cutting that a little close. It’s eighteen to buy a shotgun or a rifle.”
Peyton glanced up at the wall of shotguns behind the clerk.
“If you are twenty-one and still want a handgun, I’ll need proof of residency. So something like a utility bill with your name on it or a lease.”
Peyton pulled out his wallet and fished his driver’s license out, but the clerk waved him off.
“That’s not enough. It has to be something else.”
Madison could feel the tension rolling off Peyton in waves. He gritted out a question. “What next?”
“You need a Firearms Safety Certificate.”
“How do I get that?”
The clerk pulled out a pamphlet and what looked like a multiple choice test. “You’ll need to study and take this test. Thirty questions, twenty-three correct is passing.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
Peyton’s shoulders sagged. “Then what?”
“Then you fill out the application, I take your thumbprint, and you perform a safe handling demonstration. A certified instructor will have to walk you through the safe handling instructions and you sign a statement saying you completed them.”
“Is that it?”
“Nope. Even if you do all that, you still have to wait ten days before you can pick it up.”
Peyton huffed, angry words slipping out almost beneath his breath. “This is bullshit.”
The clerk half-laughed. “Tell me about it. The legislature has really gone overboard if you ask me. I don’t even know why we still sell firearms in this store to be honest. Now with all the new laws that just passed, we probably won’t be selling ammo either.”
Madison tilted her head. “What new laws?”
“Not only do we have to have a license to sell ammo now, but anyone who wants to buy ammo has to have a four-year permit that requires a background check to get.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish. But that’s not even the half of it. They’ve also completely changed the definition of assault rifles and made it illegal to own a magazine holding more than ten rounds. If you get caught with one now, the government confiscates it and you have to a pay a fine.”
“What? That’s crazy!” Madison thought about Brianna and her parents. “What about all the people who bought them before the law was passed?”
The clerk shook his head. “They have to either remove it from California, sell it to a licensed dealer, or turn it over to the police.”
Madison couldn’t believe it. “Why didn’t we hear about these new laws when they were up for vote?”
The clerk shrugged. “You did. You just weren’t paying attention. The politicians who supported them made it sound like all it would do was take dangerous weapons off the streets, not make it impossible for mom and pop shops to sell guns and ammo or make it a crime to own something that the Constitution says you can.”
Peyton leaned back, his palms flat on the counter to keep from falling over. “This is crazy, man. How do you keep all the laws straight?”
“If I don’t, I can go to jail. Gives me a pretty good incentive.”
Madison patted Peyton on the arm. “We should get going. You’re not buying guns or ammo today.”
“Guess not.” He held out his hand and the clerk shook it. “Thanks for the info.”
“Anytime.”
Peyton turned to Madison as she grabbed the cart handle. “Let’s find Brianna and get out of here. I don’t want to be out on the roads when people start figuring out what’s going on. Especially not without a gun.”
Madison nodded. Part of her was glad Peyton couldn’t buy one, since he didn’t know the first thing about gun safety or how to even shoot one. But she wouldn’t have minded a rifle or a shotgun of her own just in case.
Pushing the cart toward checkout, Madison spotted Brianna and Tucker, their own cart loaded up with everything from propane and a camping stove to freeze dried food and a water filtration system. Between the two carts, they were as prepared as four college kids could be.
Brianna and Tucker waited until Madison pushed her cart up to meet them. “Ready?”
She nodded. “One question, how are we going to pay for all this? I gave you my emergency cash, but it’s not nearly enough.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Peyton stepped forward, shiny black Amex in his hand. “My dad didn’t cancel the credit card, remember?”
Madison exhaled. “Keep the receipt. I’ll pay him back later.”
“Pfft. You will not. He owes me. Besides, after tomorrow, money’s not going to be worth a damn thing.”
“Assuming anything actually happens.”
“It’s happening, Madison. The sooner you come to terms with it, the better.” Brianna pushed her cart up behind Peyton’s in line. Tucker held back and waited for Madison.
“I know you don’t think it’s as bad as they do, but NOAA doesn’t lie. They wouldn’t have sent out an alert if it wasn’t serious.”
Madison scrunched up her nose. “Why haven’t you gotten any more? Why hasn’t the government come out and said something?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. The first alert went out hours ago.”
Tucker scratched at his moppy black hair. “I don’t know. But phones haven’t been working right. The alert system could be down, too.”
“Maybe.” Madison fidgeted in line, her unease over the whole day growing by the minute. They’d wasted too much time in the sporting goods store. They needed to get out of there and get to her mom’s house. Soon.
Peyton’s turn in line finally came and he stepped up to the counter. “Hi. I’ve got two carts to check out, please.”
The cashier glanced first at the carts and then at Madison and Tucker. “That’s a lot of stuff. You sure you can pay for all of it?”
Peyton flashed the credit card. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I’ll need to see some ID. And I’ll have to use the manual imprinter. Our credit card processing isn’t working.”
Peyton stacked the first set of supplies on the counter. “Whatever works.”
After what seemed like forever, they finished. Peyton and Madison took hold of the carts loaded up with supplies while Brianna held the mile-long receipt.
“You sure your dad’s okay with this?”
“I’m sure that right now I don’t care.” Peyton pushed his cart a little harder, jumping up onto the bottom rail as it sailed through the parking lot. “Race you to the car.”
Madison smiled and gave her cart a shove. “You’re on!”
The two of them careened to a halt inches from the back of Brianna’s Jeep as a series of beeps sounded through the parking lot.
Madison pulled out her phone and Peyton did the same.
The screen lit up with something she’d never seen before: Emergency Presidential Alert.
She glanced up at Peyton. “Are you getting this?”
He nodded as Brianna and Tucker caught up to them. “What’s going on?”
“Check your phones. We’re getting an alert.”
Madison’s friends pulled out their phones and the four of them stood in the parking lot staring at their screens as another message popped up.
Emergency Presidential Alert.
Severe Space Weather Warning in this area un
til 08:00 AM PST. Take Shelter Now. Dusk to Dawn Curfew in Effect.
Madison reread the message four times before she glanced up at her friends. Tucker was right. Something big was about to happen and they were still thirty miles from her mom.
Brianna beeped her car unlocked. “Everybody load up. Shit’s about to get real.”
Chapter Seven
TRACY
Sacramento, CA
3:30 p.m.
There wasn’t enough room in the Suburban for all the supplies Tracy needed. Her brows knit in a scowl as she stared at the cases of water and Gatorade already loaded up on the flatbed. She needed a whole convoy full of water and food if the growing fear in her gut was anything to go by.
People milled around her, all typical weekday afternoon shoppers. A man with a flatbed like her own, full of industrial paper towels and cleaning supplies. A woman with three little kids and a cart full of snack foods and diapers.
Was she the only person in the city freaking out? Was this all in her imagination?
Joe had taken it seriously. He’d told her the risks of an extreme geomagnetic storm. Her husband had talked about space weather before.
Tracy pulled out her phone and tried her husband. Instead of ringing, she received the same network congestion message that plagued her all morning: All circuits are busy, please try your call again.
She opened text messages and scrolled through them again. Where are you, Walt?
Her concern over the safety of both her husband and her daughter was starting to take its toll. She’d downed a soda and two ibuprofen earlier, but it hadn’t made a dent in the tension headache behind her eyes.
If she couldn’t reach them, all she could do was prepare for the worst and hope they either stayed put somewhere safe or made it home in one piece. She wouldn’t be much good to anyone if she didn’t finish this trip and get back to the house.
Pushing the flatbed down the aisle, Tracy tried to focus. What would they need if the power stayed out? Water. Paper products. A way to dispose of trash. Food, food, and more food.
