by Mike Kraus
5:48 AM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
Cold, dank air hissed around Leonard as he stood silently on the catwalk contemplating his next move. He had tried to keep track of the time since he saw the mass disappear out of the top of the processing station but had quickly lost track amid the sounds of the underground. While the echo of the diesel generators had long since disappeared, gravity still pulled and pushed liquid through the pipes, causing all manner of noises to emerge around him. Sounds of water flowing, air rushing and the creak of the metal catwalk enveloped him, distracting him from counting the seconds.
Since his headlamp had died, he hadn’t dared move for fear of attracting the attention of the mass that had disappeared. While it had retreated once he saw it, the fact that its entry into the processing station’s control room coincided precisely with the failure of the generators filled him with dread. As his legs began to ache from standing for so long, though, he began to rationalize his fears, convincing himself to move forward. What else am I going to do, stand here for the rest of my life?
While the processing station was pitch black, Leonard knew its general layout and that the door to the control room was just a few feet away. He began to shuffle forward, keeping the sounds of his boots on the metal to a minimum as he inched towards the stairs he knew were there. His toe softly impacted with the metal of the first stair and he flinched, half-expecting the mass to reappear. When nothing but the sounds of the station continued, he began to slowly climb the stairs, wincing with every creak and groan.
Leonard held his hands out in front of him as he approached the top of the stairs. He took the steps even slower now, not wanting to misjudge where he was stepping and fall backwards. As he finally approached the top of the stairs, he reached for the control room door and his hand fell upon the cold steel of the door handle. Taking a breath, he pushed down on the handle and swung the door inwards, one hand out in front of him as he walked into the control room.
While this processing station was newer than most that had been built in the underground system, it still conformed to certain safety standards. One of these standards was the mandatory requirement that there be battery-powered backup lights inside the control room and a small stash of emergency flashlights as well, in case of a total system failure. Leonard groped along the wall, searching until he felt what he was looking for. He grabbed the large metal handle with both hands and took a deep breath, tugging it downwards.
A bright spark near his hands made his eyes shut involuntarily and a soft beeping sound came from speakers in the ceiling as several emergency lights inside the control room powered on, bathing the room in red. Leonard blinked several times, adjusting his vision to the light, thankful that the newer stations were going with red emergency lights instead of white ones. Red lights interfered with night vision less than standard white lights did and made it easier and faster for his eyes to adjust to. Leonard shrugged his shoulder pack off and set it on the floor, looking around at the control room.
The room was in surprisingly good shape compared to what he had expected. There was virtually no interior damage aside from a few broken window panes and some shelves that had been knocked loose from their wall fittings. Overall the room was in excellent condition, and the place was tidy as well. A row of levers, buttons and computer screens lined the front of the station directly underneath the main windows. On the opposite side of the room from the door Leonard had entered through, a spiral staircase descended down into the maintenance room containing the diesel generators and other equipment that passed through the control room.
If memory served Leonard correctly, the emergency flashlights and headlamps were stored down in the maintenance room. As he understood it, the logic was that workers in the control room had emergency lighting that was sufficient to do their jobs, but the workers in the maintenance room below would need portable lights for any repairs that had to be carried out. Personally, Leonard thought this was a terrible system and had voiced complaints about the low number of emergency lights for years, but budget concerns outweighed most minor safety concerns.
Leonard walked over to the spiral staircase and carefully descended into the maintenance room, gripping the rail tightly as he walked, on guard for any structure problems. When he reached the bottom he squinted as he looked around, trying to make out any familiar shapes in the near-darkness. While there were a few emergency lights in the maintenance room, several of them appeared to be burned out. After a few minutes of looking, he eventually found his target: a larger white cabinet at the far end of the room. Leonard approached the cabinet and flung it open, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw its contents.
10:05 AM, March 29, 2038
Nancy Sims
Nancy peeked over the edge of the barn window and peered into the yard. She had laid motionless in the hay for what felt like hours. Even though the “thing” had long since departed, the hairs on the back of her neck were still raised and she was still concerned that it was out there, somewhere, waiting for her.
Her gaze darted back and forth over the yard, house, corn fields and highway beyond. There was no sign of “it.” After several more minutes of watching, she crawled to the ladder leading down into the barn, cautiously looking over the edge. Below her she could still hear the cows moving about in their stalls. Nothing looked or sounded amiss, so she began a slow descent into the barn, pausing after each creaky step to make sure there was nothing coming after her. Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she began to relax, feeling safer since she hadn’t seen anything or anyone.
Unsure what to do next, Nancy walked back across the yard to the house, glancing around as she went. She knocked on the door again, softly at first, then louder. There was still no answer. When she had arrived last night, this seemed a bit odd, but explainable. Today, though, after what she had seen, she was more suspicious. Weighing the odds of facing down a farmer with a shotgun versus standing around in his yard, Nancy opted for the more proactive approach. She reached for the door handle and turned, half-surprised when she was met with no resistance.
Nancy swung the door open, the smell of mothballs and apple pie greeting her as she took a step into the home. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she shouted. She didn’t hear a reply, or anything else for that matter. Taking this as permission to enter further, she walked through the doorway and closed the door behind her.
The house was well lit thanks to a large number of windows with shades that were all open. Directly in front of her was a wooden staircase leading to the second floor, while the living room lay to her right and the kitchen to her left. As she became used to the smell in the house, the mothballs were gradually replaced by a well-used and lived-in scent, clear indications that this was in no way an abandoned home. The aroma of food, the smell of bath products and even the scent of diaper cream all leapt out. Whoever lived here couldn’t have been gone for long. Where they went and where they were now, though, was a good question.
Nancy stepped cautiously into the kitchen. It was relatively clean with a few dirty dishes piled in the sink. Glass-paneled cabinets hung from the walls and a pie sat on the counter in a glass baking dish wrapped in plastic wrap. While the smell had made Nancy’s mouth water when she first came into the house, the sight of the pie caused her stomach to grumble loudly as she realized just how hungry she was.
Forgetting all about her initial fears, Nancy rushed to the pie and tore off the plastic wrap, grabbing a piece of it with her hands and devouring it greedily. As she ate, she realized that she hadn’t eaten in… How long has it been? A day? It feels like it’s been a week. Who knows how long I was unconscious, though.
After the third slice, Nancy opened a cabinet above the sink and took out a glass. She filled it with water from a pitcher on the counter and drained it, then sat down at the kitchen table with her pie and continued eating. When she finished devouring the entire pie, she leaned back in her chair. Hunger satiated, she looked around the kitchen
and noticed a sheet of paper taped to the front of the refrigerator across the room.
Edgar – Thanks for looking after the place while we’re away. Help yourself to anything in the fridge and enjoy the pie. – Helen
Once she finished reading the note, Nancy felt bad for eating the entire pie, then she grew puzzled. There hadn’t been a single slice of the pie missing and she hadn’t seen anyone else around the house or barn, either. The note certainly explained why the owners were gone, but that mystery was now replaced with wondering who “Edgar” was and why he wasn’t at the house.
Nancy continued to scan the kitchen when she spotted a phone hanging on the wall. She virtually sprang from her chair and grabbed it. She hurriedly dialed 911 on the keypad and held the phone up to her ear. Her face slumped when she realized that the phone was dead. She went to the refrigerator next, an old relic that looked like it would be more in place in the 1990’s than now. She opened it and grimaced at the food that was already beginning to spoil due to a lack of electricity.
10:07 AM, March 29, 2038
Marcus Warden
The sounds of crows squawking loudly atop the bus woke Marcus from his sleep. Light streamed in through the dirty, broken windows, making him squint as he began to stir. As he pushed himself up, the pain returned to his hand and he winced as he clutched it to his chest. Once in a sitting position, Marcus peeled back the bandage and looked at the cut, breathing a sigh of relief. While it had crusted over and was still slightly red, there was no sign of any infection. Being careful not to pull any of the scab off, he removed the bandage, doused it with the last of the open bottle of vodka and wrapped it up again, more firmly this time.
Time to get moving, he thought as he began to crawl along the overturned seats towards the door of the bus. As he passed over the pieces of the broken lantern, he sighed. Damn shame. At least I still have matches. Marcus had been in a rush when he passed through the last convenience store and hadn’t thought that he would need to take more than one lantern with him. The decision made sense at the time, but in retrospect it seemed quite foolish.
After climbing out onto the side of the bus, Marcus pulled a map out from his backpack that he had found at the convenience store and stretched it out across the bus windows. He sat cross-legged in front of it, comparing his location to where he needed to go. By his estimations, he was between five and seven days away from Richmond, assuming that he would have to walk the entire way. If he could find a working car or even a bicycle, though, that would cut his time down drastically. Hell, a skateboard or pair of rollerblades would do the trick, too.
Marcus smirked at the thought and looked at the next day’s travel route. From what he could tell, there were a few gas stations along the way, so he could stock up on supplies and hopefully replace the lantern. The bigger worry would be getting over the Appalachian Mountains in the next day or two. Once he was past those, though, it would be relatively flat going all the way through Charlottesville to Richmond, and on a highway, no less. Might be some folks still left that way, too… doubtful, but worth a shot to check it out.
While the highway Marcus was near led him straight through Staunton and Waynesboro over the mountains, the more direct route was to cut through farmlands until he reached the outskirts of Charlottesville and then take the highway to Richmond. This meant missing out on two larger cities, but it would save him a day or so of travel time.
Marcus looked up at the sky and then down at his watch. After a few seconds, he realized that the second hand had stopped moving. He let out a yelp and quickly pulled out the stem, giving it several swift turns and waited for it to start moving again. Most people used purely digital watches (if they used them at all), even if they were made to look like mechanical ones. Marcus, though, much preferred the simplicity of a pure mechanical watch, one made without wires or circuits. While this old-fashioned decision had meant that his watch had survived the EMP, it also meant that he had to pay close attention to it to make sure that it didn’t wind down. He sighed as he reset the time, trying to estimate to the closest hour based on the position of the sun.
After fiddling with the watch for a few moments, Marcus folded up the map and jumped down from the side of the bus, landing with a grunt. He folded the map up and stuck it in his back pocket, then gave the bus a final look before heading down the highway, marching East at a brisk pace.
7:07 AM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
Half a dozen flashlights, a box of MREs, a dozen gallons of water and four hard hats with fully charged headlights greeted Leonard as he opened the cabinet. Along with them, there were various and sundry medical supplies, spare tools, wire and safety harnesses. While the emergency lights in the maintenance room may have been neglected, someone had clearly paid close attention to safety regulations when stocking the supply cabinet.
Nearly a decade ago, emergency requirements for processing stations and maintenance rooms consisted of nothing more than a few flashlights and spare helmets. However, that all changed when a large system failure triggered the collapse of part of the sewer system, trapping seven workers for five days until they were rescued. While none of them suffered serious injuries, the lack of food and water – save for what they had brought in themselves – had triggered a change in the emergency management operations. This led to new regulations about how much food and water was required to be stored in key locations in the system, as well as things like spare tools and other potentially life-saving accessories.
Leonard tore open the box of MREs, realizing upon seeing them that he hadn’t eaten in quite a long time. He was thankful for the improved regulations that meant he wouldn’t starve or die of thirst. He grabbed several MREs from the box, along with a gallon of water, a flashlight and a hard hat. He flicked the switch on the hard hat’s headlamp, smiling broadly as the darkness retreated in the face of the bright beam.
As Leonard started to ascend the stairs to devour one of the MREs, he happened to glance over at the large diesel generators across the room. The smile he still wore from finding the supplies slowly waned and he dropped what he was carrying on the stairs. Leonard walked over to the diesel generators, circling them and staring at them in the light of his newly-acquired headlamp.
The twin diesel generators were massive, nearly as tall as he was, but they looked like they had been through a warzone. The steel casing on the generators had gaping holes in it that made it look like it had taken a trip through a metal press. Underneath the casing there were more holes torn directly through the generators themselves, ripping straight through the solid iron blocks clear through to the other side. Unlike damage done in an explosion, though, these holes were cut with laser-like precision in clean, concentric circles in one side and out the other. “What the hell?” Leonard whispered, kneeling down to peer through one of the massive tears in the generator.
No way was this caused by the quake, he thought. Another thought popped into his head. Wait… if these were running when I got here….
Leonard’s thoughts trailed off as he put together the timing of the events that occurred shortly after arriving in the processing station. Son of a bitch, it was those things. But how?!
The only explanation for the damage to the generators was that the mass he saw outside the control room door was responsible. But how could that possibly be true? It was some kind of smoke or bugs or something. None of this made sense to Leonard. In his decades of engineering experience he had seen and repaired his fair share of catastrophic equipment failures. He had even witnessed the immediate aftermath of a generator nearly exploding, causing half of it to rip apart, embedding thick chunks of steel and iron into nearby walls and ceilings. To have a set of diesel engines ripped apart with clean and orderly holes going straight through them in a matter of minutes, though, that was a new one on him.
Whatever had caused this to happen, Leonard concluded, was exceptionally dangerous. Nothing he had ever heard of could cut through steel and iron so qu
ickly, yet here was the evidence in front of him, plain as day. Why the mass he saw at the control room went after the generators instead of him, though, was yet another mystery stacked on top of a growing pile.
8:07 AM, March 29, 2038
Rachel Walsh
Rachel pulled an ALICE pack from a storage shelf in the basement and began collecting cans from the ground. Beans, ravioli and tuna fish were jammed into the bottom of the bag. She hefted it once, judging the weight. Satisfied, she turned to a metal locker in the corner and opened it, pulling back the copper mesh that lay inside. A row of flashlights and batteries stared back at her. She grabbed one of the pocket flashlights, opened it and inserted the batteries. She clicked the button on the back and smiled grimly as the bright beam of light pierced through the shadows of the basement.
You thought of everything, darling, even the EMP.
When Rachel had finally agreed to the building of the basement “bunker,” she had done so under one condition: if it was going to be done, it was going to be done right. There was enough food and fresh water stored in the basement to last their family for five years. An internal heating and cooling system had been set up with filtration to the outside. Redundant plumbing had been installed. Even the electronics had been carefully double-shielded from potential electromagnetic pulses by encasing the basement in a copper mesh and storing the electronics themselves in copper mesh coated lockers. The expenses had been high and the likelihood of them ever needing any of it had been low, but still they did it anyway. Thank God.
