“You get a new mask?” asked Chuck.
“They gave us N95s or something,” I replied. “I don’t know what that means.”
Chuck snorted. “N95, ha, the one I gave you was way better than ninety-five percent. You shouldn’t have let them take it. I’ll get you some more.”
“It’s like he’s preparing for World War Three,” Susie laughed. “You sure you don’t want a cup of something hot?”
“Not hot, but maybe something strong.”
“Ah, yes,” said Chuck, moving off toward the kitchen. He quickly produced a bottle of scotch and two tumblers from a cupboard. “Ice, no ice?”
“Neat is fine.”
He poured a generous dose into both glasses.
“So how’s Luke?” asked Susie. “What did the doctors say?”
“We didn’t manage to see one. A nurse looked at him and didn’t say much except it didn’t look like bird flu. He’s got a fever of a hundred and three. Lauren’s curled up with him under a blanket. They’re sleeping for now.”
“That’s good news, right? Pam came back when you were out, said we can wake her up if you want. She has a degree in tropical medicine, I think.”
I wasn’t sure how tropical medicine might help in this situation, but I knew Chuck was trying to be comforting. It was reassuring that Pam was nearby.
“It can wait till the morning.”
“So what would you think of a little vacation in Virginia?” asked Chuck as he handed my drink over.
“Virginia?”
“Yeah, you know, our old family place in the hills near the Shenandoah? It’s in the national park, only a few cabins on the whole mountain.”
“Ahhh,” I replied, the light dawning. “Time to bug out?”
He motioned toward the TV, still on but with the sound muted. The CNN headline scrolling across the top was about a bird flu outbreak being reported in California.
“Nobody knows what the hell is going on. Half the country thinks it’s terrorists, the other half an attack by the Chinese, and another half thinks it’s nothing at all.”
“That’s a lot of halves.”
“Glad you have a sense of humor.”
Taking a sip from his drink, he grabbed the remote from the kitchen counter and turned up the volume on CNN. “Unconfirmed reports of bird flu have been springing up all over the country, with the latest in San Francisco and Los Angeles, where health officials have quarantined two major hospitals...”
I sighed heavily and took a big gulp of my drink. “I most absolutely do not find this funny.”
“Emergency services all over the country are screwed, cell phone networks jammed,” said Chuck, looking at the news. “It’s a total mess out there.”
“Don’t need to tell me. You should see the hospitals. Has the CDC confirmed anything?”
“They confirmed the emergency notifications, but nobody’s been able to get in to find out what’s going on.”
“It’s taking that long? It’s been ten hours already.”
Chuck took a deep breath and shook his head. “With the internet down and this Scramble virus messing with logistics, nobody knows where anyone is or what they should be doing.”
Rubbing my eyes, I took another sip from my drink and looked out their windows. It had started to snow in earnest, and a steady stream of snowflakes flashed out of the darkness, spinning and swirling with the wind.
Chuck followed my eyes.
“These storms coming, it’s going to be worse than Christmas a few years back, like a frozen Sandy.”
I hadn’t been in New York for the big blizzard in 2010 that had dumped over two feet of snow the day after Christmas, but I’d heard about it. Seven-foot drifts in Central Park with waist-deep snow in the middle of the streets, but there were snowstorms almost as bad every year now. I’d been there for Sandy, though, and a frozen version of that frightened me. New York had become a magnet for perfect storms.
“You guys should just get going,” I said, watching the snow. “We can’t leave. Not with Luke sick like this. He needs to rest, and we need to be close to hospitals.”
“We’re not leaving you here,” said Susie firmly, looking at Chuck. He shrugged and finished off his drink.
“Charles Mumford,” she continued after a pause, “don’t be ridiculous. All this is going to blow over. You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” shot back Chuck, almost throwing his glass at the TV as he pointed at it. “Have you been watching the same stuff I have? Chinese declaring war, a biological attack spread across the country, communications down—”
“Don’t exaggerate. They did not declare war. That was just some minister puffing his chest for the cameras,” countered Susie. “Anyway, look at all this stuff.” She motioned around the apartment. “By God, we could hole up in here and survive till next Christmas with all this.”
Finishing my drink, I waved my hands in the air.
“I don’t want you guys to fight. I think this will blow over and by tomorrow morning things will calm down.”
I turned to Chuck.
“If you want to get going, I totally understand. Do what’s best for your family. I mean it.”
I paused and looked him in the eye, smiling, trying to convey my seriousness.
Sighing, I added, “I need to get some sleep.”
Chuck scratched his head and put his glass down on the kitchen counter.
“Me too. I’ll see you later, buddy.”
He walked over and hugged me, taking my glass from my hand. Susie got up to come and give me a kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered in my ear, hugging me tightly.
“Please go if he wants,” I whispered back.
Closing the door behind me as I left, I crossed the few feet of dimly lit hallway to quietly open our apartment door. Locking the door behind me, I crept into the bedroom, softly closing that door as well.
My whole world was lying on the bed in front of me. In the ghostly glow from the LED display on our bedside alarm clock, I could just make out the forms of Lauren and Luke curled up together. The room smelled humid and lived-in, like a nest, and that thought brought a smile to my face. I stood still and watched them, feeling the wonder and joy, their rhythmic breathing soothing my senses.
Luke coughed, and he took in two or three quick, deep breaths, as if he couldn’t breathe properly, but then he sighed and quietened down.
Silently, I stripped down and gently slid under the covers. Luke was in the middle of the bed, so I curled up around him, with Lauren on the other side. Leaning over, I brushed a lock of hair away from Lauren’s forehead and kissed her. She mumbled and I kissed her again, and then, with a deep breath, I pulled one of the pillows under my head and closed my eyes.
Everything is going to be fine.
Day 2 - Christmas Eve – December 24
7:05 a.m.
I AWOKE WITH a start.
My dreams were filled with confused images of angry men in forests. I was flying, my grip on Luke slipping, and Lauren was gone, sliding down a stairwell, down into the earth, while I floated and floated. A screaming pulled me out of the vision, layers of dreams snapping one from another, until I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping.
Breathing hard, I looked around.
It was pitch black. Wait, not totally black. A thin light hung like a gray halo around the outline of our bedroom curtains. Luke and Lauren were still beside me. Breathlessly, I leaned down to Luke.
He’s still breathing, thank God.
It was quiet. Lauren shifted slightly. Everything was fine.
Shivering, I pulled the covers around me and put my head back down on the pillow. Slowly, my heart stopped thumping, and a dead silence descended. It was too dark. I looked at the clock beside my head. It was off, totally blank. We must be having a power failure.
I picked up my cell phone from the night stand: 7:05 a.m.
It was early, and it was freezing.
Quietly, I slipped off the side of the bed, rummaged in the hamper for my bath robe, and then felt around on the floor for my slippers. Wrapping the robe around me, I shivered and exited the bedroom.
The main room of our apartment was equally dead. None of the familiar little lights, none of the glowing time displays on the appliances. The little Christmas tree on the side table was completely dark. Outside the windows, snow swept by in the muted half-light, the pressure of the wind against the glass the only thing audible, a dull thudding with each squall of flakes.
Walking over near our entranceway, I tapped the digital thermostat on the wall. It was also blank. I crept back into the bedroom and quietly pulled the guest blanket from the closet and laid it across Luke and Lauren, and then pulled out a sweater for myself. I suddenly felt unprepared for whatever was happening.
Thinking of being well prepared, I decided to go and see if Susie and Chuck were up. Pulling on some jeans and sneakers and a sweater, I tiptoed next door.
Out in the hallway, the emergency lighting had turned on, a harsh, white light that spread out from floodlights above the exit stairwell, casting long shadows behind me in the empty space. Standing in front of Chuck’s place, I hesitated but then knocked softly, and then after a pause, slightly louder.
No response at all. Could they have left?
I had a hard time imagining that they’d just leave like that, but then again…
I knocked again, firmly this time, demanding their attention, but there was still no response. I tentatively tried the door handle, and it easily clicked around, the door silently sliding open in front of me.
Inside, the curtains were drawn back, and in the dim light I could see the jumble of bags still on the floor. I looked in the bedrooms, checked in the bathroom, but no Chuck or Susie or Ellarose.
Maybe they left all this stuff for us?
Pulling the blanket off their bed, I wrapped it around myself and shuffled into the living room, collapsing onto their couch. Fear crept into the pit of my stomach.
What happened? Why is the power off? And why didn’t Chuck wake me if something had gone wrong?
I thought of trying to reach my brothers, to see if they were okay. They had an oil furnace in the old house, with enough oil to last the whole winter, so at least they’d be warm if anything did go wrong over there. My brothers were resourceful. I shouldn’t worry about them.
The wind drove hard against the windows, echoing in the lifeless room. Lifeless. That’s how it felt without the comforting, low-level thrum of the machines, without their little lights blinking, motors whirring, unseen but ever present, surrounding me in an electronic cocoon.
But one light would still work.
My cell phone still had power, at least for a while. Like a phantom limb, I felt its pull. Maybe I should go check it, see if I have any messages and remove the battery, save the charge, just in case?
Maybe the cell networks weren’t as jammed up anymore. Or maybe a landline? Do they have their own power? I thought so, trying to remember if I’d used a landline during a previous power failure, but I couldn’t think of anyone who still had one.
I needed to find out what was going on, but how? A radio. They’d still be broadcasting. I didn’t have a battery-powered radio, but I was sure Chuck must have left something in one of these bags. Thank God he left all this stuff.
I glanced out the windows again. It looked brutal outside. Yesterday morning my biggest problem was figuring out how to deliver some Christmas gifts—how quickly the world had changed.
What if Luke is really sick? What if an epidemic is raging out in that snowstorm?
“Little help here?”
My head swiveled around to find Chuck in the doorway, sagging under a load of bags and backpacks. He was awkwardly trying to wedge himself through. Emotion overcame me.
“Hey, are you okay? Is Luke okay?”
I don’t think I was ever so glad to see anyone in my life. Wiping my eyes with the back of one hand, I replied, “Everything’s fine.”
“If you say so.” Again he tried to force his way through, and again he asked, “A little help here?”
Shaking my head to clear it, I jumped up to grab some bags. Susie, also carrying bags, appeared behind him with Ellarose strapped to her front. Tony, our doorman, was behind her and weighed down even heavier than Chuck. Everyone was sweating profusely, and they haphazardly dropped their loads as they entered.
“Want me to do another trip?” asked Tony, breathing heavily, leaning over.
“Why don’t you take a break with Susie and Ellarose?” Chuck sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of one arm. “Maybe fire up some coffee on the butane burner? Me and Mike’ll get the generator.”
“Sounds heavy,” I said cautiously.
“It is heavy,” laughed Chuck. “Come on, chubby, time to get your workout.”
Leaving the rest of them behind, Chuck and I exited into the hallway and walked to the emergency exit to begin our way down the stairs. Obviously, the elevators weren’t working. It was the first time I’d ever been in the stairwell, and the sounds of our footsteps on the bare metal steps echoed hollowly off the cinder block walls.
“So what happened?” I asked as we descended the first set of stairs.
“Power went off about five and I’ve been running up and down since then, grabbing as much stuff as I can before everyone else wakes up.”
“Before everyone wakes up?”
“Call me paranoid, but I’d prefer if as few people as possible know how much stuff we’re going to have socked away in Fort Mumford.”
His apartment was already a military base. I wondered where the perimeter was.
“What I meant was, what happened with the power? Why’s it so cold?”
“It’s cold because the power’s out, and this building is wired for control using the internet. There’s oil in the furnace, but all the controls are digital and the networks aren’t working.
“Ah-hah.”
I remembered a big selling point in this new building was the array of fancy building controls that used the internet, letting you could control the temperature of each room in your house remotely from Hong Kong if you wanted. The problem was that the onsite controls were run off IP networks, and from what Chuck was saying, they were down.
“Shouldn’t the backup generator come on?”
“It should have, but it didn’t fire up, and it wouldn’t run the heating vents anyway. All the building staff are gone. There’s already a foot of snow, and more coming fast. National Guard’s been called out, and they’re telling everyone to stay put. We’ve gotta do this ourselves.”
“Why’d Tony stay?”
“He sent his mom down to Tampa for the holidays to see her sister, remember?”
I nodded. “So, again, what happened with the power?”
We’d reached the third landing, halfway down, and Chuck stopped.
“I was scanning the news channels at about four forty-five when they started reporting power outages in Connecticut, and then, blammo, just after five, the lights went out.”
“Is it the snowstorm?”
The alternatives were frightening.
“Maybe.”
“Did they say anything else about the bird flu?”
“Just a muddled mess,” he replied with a shrug. “Nobody knows what’s going on.”
He jogged down a few more steps.
“Borders are shut down, international travel halted,” he continued, detailing a worldwide collapse like items on a breakfast menu. “CDC can’t confirm or deny anything, but hospitals everywhere are flooded with people reporting symptoms. They’re saying it’s some kind of coordinated biological warfare attack, but I don’t buy it.”
“Why?”
Chuck’s conspiracy-bent mind was always picking behind the news to the “real” story, but for once I was eager to hear his theories. We reached the ground floor and exited to the lobby to take the basement stairs down. We
stopped in the white marble foyer beside the Japanese garden, now starkly lit by the emergency lighting.
“Do you know that nearly ninety percent of the emergency notification systems in America are all supplied by the same company?”
“So?”
“Hack that one company and, wham, instant access to worldwide chaos.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“Chaos, terror, but I have another theory.” He opened the door to the basement. “Invasion.”
He walked down ahead of me.
“Invasion?”
I hurried after him.
He swung open the door to the first storage locker and began checking box tags with a flashlight.
“Think about it. Disrupt government services, cut off supply lines, transportation, eliminate communications, and then confine civilians indoors before decimating the industrial base, in this case by cutting off power. It’s the same cyberattack profile that the Russians used when they invaded Georgia in 2008, more or less.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
He found the box he was looking for, dragged it out, and began opening it up.
“I mean Georgia in Asia, not the Georgia with Atlanta.”
I stared at him. “I got that.”
He finished opening the box and stared back at me.
“Come on, son, grab an end.”
Leaning down, I picked up one end of the generator in the box he’d opened, grunting to bear its weight as he lifted the other end, and we began shuffle-walking it toward the stairs. For the next few minutes we struggled up. It wasn’t that heavy, but it was awkward, and it felt like we were carrying a body. I needed a break by the time we reached the third landing.
“Stop,” I panted, putting the generator down and groaning while I stretched my back. “How much does this thing weigh?”
“The box said a hundred and twenty. It’s a beauty, runs on gas, diesel, pretty much anything that’ll explode.”
“Vodka?”
“That we drink,” he laughed.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped the sweat streaming down my temples.
CyberStorm final Mar 13 2013 Page 6
