“Bring your guns; we don’t know what we’re gonna find.”
“Shoot first, look second?” one of the men asked.
“Maybe, if they give it up, we may let them off easy. Be ready for anything.”
The men had been working their way west on the interstate, scavenging from the abandoned cars and using them for shelter at night. Sometimes they could siphon some gas and barter that for food. They were looking for a gang to join in Hillsboro.
Jason kept still, not wanting to confirm his presence by moving forward. He couldn’t make it to the end of the underpass before they would intercept him and to retreat would only expose him to the highway above. The conversation became muffled, but he understood enough to know they were coming down and they were a threat. There were sounds of movement now from above.
The sounds were coming from the direction he was headed. Were any of them coming from behind him? Jason quietly laid his trace down and unshouldered his backpack. His Ruger was at the ready position. He ruled out running. They were too close and he didn’t have a head start. He couldn’t move fast with all his gear, the travois and backpack, and would be an easy target. His only advantage was the men above didn’t know exactly where he was. Be still and wait. Let them come to him.
He was in the dark of the underpass, just before the pale light that spilled down from the gap in the lanes, splitting the dark tunnel into two segments. They could come from the end or the middle. His eyes were now adjusted to the dark of the underpass; he would have a moment’s advantage and he knew he had to use it. Adrenalin rushed through him. He began to shake.
They sound so casual about taking everything from me. They’ll kill me just as casually. He knew there would be no negotiating his way through this encounter. Images of the wild chase two days ago flooded his mind. This time there was no outrunning them and no hiding from them.
Three men came down to the road level at the far side of the underpass. He could hear them talking. They were still sheltered by the abutment.
“Do we go under?” one asked.
“He may be armed,” the leader replied.
The men waited, not sure what to do next.
“I don’t hear anything. Think he’s heard us?”
“Maybe, one of you go back up and be ready to come down in between the lanes in case this guy’s armed,” the leader directed.
Jason heard movement but no one came into view. He waited forcing his breathing to slow and listened carefully. They have to give themselves away when they move. Don’t move, wait.
Then two men stepped into view at the far end of the underpass. Jason took aim. He knew they could not see him in the greater darkness. Before they stepped out of the moon light, he opened fire. One man went down immediately; the other fired wildly into the dark and then fell from Jason’s return fire.
Where was the third? He listened. There were footsteps above. Jason backed out of the underpass and crawled up the embankment on the south side of the highway. He saw the man’s shadowy image coming across the far set of lanes. Jason fired at the shadow. The man fired wildly back. A few more shots from Jason sent the man running west on the lanes towards Hillsboro. Jason climbed up on the road and shouted as if calling to another shooter, “He’s running west, see him?” He then fired one more round in the direction the man fled.
It was over in a moment. Jason stood shaking and panting.
Are they dead? Then panic set in. Get moving! He didn’t know who might have heard the gunfire and how quickly anyone might come. He didn’t want to be there to find out. Got to get to the woods. He ran back down to the local road, shouldered his pack, grabbed the travois and started running through the underpass, past the men he had shot. One lay still. The other made sucking sounds as he struggled to breathe. Jason shuddered but kept going.
On the other side of the underpass, he turned right and climbed up the embankment to the still-raw slope where the interstate sliced through the side of the hill. Jason ran along its base away from the underpass until the slope became less steep. He strapped the travois to his waist and shouldered his backpack, then moved diagonally up the slope, crawling, scrambling and fighting the drag of the pack and travois. He needed to reach the cover of the trees at the top. From there he could defend against anyone following. His hands clawed at the rocks and dirt, trying desperately to gain the top of the slope and the cover above. The stones scratched and cut his exposed skin. He struggled with the loose slope, pressing his body against it when he started to slide backward, then crawling upward again.
Finally Jason got though the bushes at the top and into the cover of the trees. He lay down, drenched in sweat and blood, completely out of breath. After a few moments he crept back to the edge and looked out to see if anyone was coming after him. The road below was silent. Through his binoculars, he thought he saw a shadowy figure moving south on the local road he had used. Otherwise, all below him was still.
Jason returned to his gear and with great effort dragged it a few more yards into the underbrush and lay down in a laurel thicket. The fear, the panic and now the realization that he had killed without warning and maybe without need overwhelmed him. He started to shake.
He sensed a line had been crossed; what effects it would have on him, he could not say. Are we going to become barbarians? Is this what it will take to survive? Finally, the adrenaline drained from his system. His shaking subsided as he sank back in exhaustion. Slowly his body relaxed and sleep began to envelope him.
Jason awoke some hours later as the eastern sky began to promise the sun’s arrival. He had a raging thirst. He was covered with dirt and blood. His hands were cut and sore from clawing his way up the hillside. He fumbled around in the pre-dawn light to retrieve his canteen. After several huge gulps, he splashed a little on his hands and face. He avoided thinking of the night’s events. Sitting against a tree, he stared at the bluing sky, then searched his surroundings with his ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. His mind drifted back to the day of EMP burst that previous summer.
Chapter 2
Jason was at his computer in the fitness gym he owned when the power went out. It was four in the afternoon in Hillsboro on a Thursday, a bright, late summer day. Stepping out of his office, he realized the whole gym was without power so he went to the circuit breaker box in the rear of the building. All the breakers were in their normal position. Puzzled, he went back out to the front of the gym and stepped out onto the street. He was not alone. The gym was located in downtown Hillsboro, in a mixed-use block with offices, shops and restaurants. Horns were blaring, cars were stopped dead in the streets; some had hit other cars. Drivers were shouting; people were standing around outside the buildings. Many were looking up in the sky, as if expecting to see something.
“The power station must have had a problem,” one man standing next to him opined to no one in particular.
“Was there a lightning strike? I don’t see any storm clouds,” another person spoke.
“What happened to all the cars?” another asked.
Jason wondered himself. There was something more serious going on than the local power station shorting out. He tried his cell phone…nothing. Going back inside, he had the receptionist try the land line with the same result. No electricity, no vehicles running, no computers, no cell phones; this was not a simple power outage. A further check revealed there was no radio or TV either.
Jason had read about EMP bursts and the threat they posed to the U.S. He began to think the unthinkable. He hurried to the back room and made sure the service door was locked. Then he stood on a bench in the gym area and announced that due the power outage, the gym was going to have to close and no showers could be taken. People began mumbling and grumbling, many coming up to ask questions that Jason could not answer. All he could tell them was that he couldn’t keep the gym open without any power and he needed to let his employees go home. The power seemed to be out over a wide area.
After the m
embers had departed, Jason gathered his staff together.
“The power seems to be out all over town. You’ll probably have to walk home. Cars don’t seem to be running. Get some bottles of water and grab some snacks from the vending machine. I’ll open it for you. If you’re going in the same direction, walk together as far as possible just to be safe. Some of you have a long way to go so don’t delay.”
“Is it dangerous?” one young instructor asked.
“I don’t think so, at least not at the present. But it’s best for everyone to get home as soon as possible. I’d stock up on essentials right away, just like if you were facing a big snow storm. There’s no telling how long the power will be out.”
“Should we plan on coming in tomorrow?” another asked.
“No. Don’t come to the gym until the power returns.” What he left unsaid was that the power could be out for a very long time, if this event was what he thought it was.
“What about our cars?” another asked.
“What can you do? If they don’t run, you got to leave them.”
“And our phones don’t work.” There were murmurs of agreement; everyone had tried unsuccessfully to phone or text someone.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with that either.” Jason responded. “The only thing I can think is that everyone is better off at home. Downtown may get a little crazy if everyone is stuck here.”
With that Jason opened the vending machine and handed out the power bar snacks to everyone. Soon the gym was empty. Jason collected the remaining food from the machine and the back room, put it in his backpack, grabbed half a dozen water bottles and put them in the pack. Then he emptied the register and safe of all the cash. As he was leaving, he suddenly froze in the doorway: Maggie was flying home today. She had called Jason earlier, from the plane, to let him know when she would get into Charlotte.
Jason and Maggie lived in the hilly suburbs just outside of Hillsboro which was located in the northwest corner of North Carolina. It was a medium sized town of approximately 200,000 people, nestled in a small valley of the Appalachia Mountains. The economy was supported by some small, local manufacturing, and an old nineteenth century inn which enjoyed a modest tourist trade. It had the problems of urban blight and unemployment found in many mid-sized cities along the east coast. With those problems came its share of the usual accompanying vices: addictions, theft and prostitution.
He quickly locked the door to the gym, grabbed his mountain bike and rode over to the local airline ticket office. His mind raced. What time did she call? Did her plane take off before the power went out? As best he could remember, she called him from the plane at three pm, about an hour before the power went out.
The manager was alone in the ticket office when he arrived. She was confused and flustered about what had happened but Jason could offer no explanation. After he got her settled down, she checked her printouts for departure times. They confirmed Maggie’s call; the plane had taken off before the power went out. It had probably been over Maryland or Virginia at the time of the event.
Jason wondered how extensive the power outage was. Could a plane survive it? He was afraid of the answers. Another man came into the office to check on a flight. He spoke of seeing a plane literally fall out of the sky when the power went out. It must have crashed more than fifty miles to the west. This was not a local phenomenon.
Jason slipped out of the office as more people were coming in, anxious to find out about loved ones flying. Downtown there was a growing panic as people tried to comprehend the situation. Some people were shouting that everyone should go to City Hall. Some were shouting everyone should go to the police station, they would know what was going on. Most people were just standing around, still confused and not knowing what to do. Leave my car, here in the street? Walk home? How do I contact my wife or husband? What about my kids at school? Some people were asking everyone around them these questions. When asked, Jason’s advice consisted of, “Leave your car. You can’t do anything about it. Go home or go to school and get your kids and then go home. Stock up on food and water, just like for a big snow storm.”
As he pedaled home his thoughts kept returning to Maggie. The sky was ominously quiet, which only lent credence to what that man in the ticket office said he saw. Could she really have crashed? A knot grew in his chest. She had picked this day and flight to avoid the crush of business travelers heading home at the end of the week. Now had that choice proved deadly? Who could have known? The ‘what ifs’ plagued his mind. He began pedaling faster and faster, covering the ten miles to his home in record time. The conviction that Maggie was gone kept growing inside of him.
At home, he went from room to room, not knowing what to do, his mind paralyzed by the awful realization. The silence was unnerving. Out of habit, he kept trying his phone and the television. Then he went into his bedroom. He found himself pulled towards the closet. It was a large, walk-in space that he shared with Maggie. Reluctantly he opened the door and stepped inside. It smelled like her. Jason reached out and pulled one of her dresses close to him. It was her favorite party dress. She’d last worn it on their anniversary when they went out to dinner and dancing, something Jason didn’t really enjoy but Maggie loved. He pressed it to his face and breathed deep. Her scent filled his nostrils. He began to sob into the cloth.
Wrenching himself away, he stepped back out into the bedroom. He approached her dresser and began to touch the items she had placed on it; her hand mirror, perfume, powder, the picture of the two of them at the beach. He gently opened the dresser drawers taking her clothing out, touching the items and pressing them to his face. He tried to pull her back to him with touch and smell. Ever more frantically he began to open each drawer, grabbing the clothing, pressing it to his face; faster and faster until the drawers were all opened and clothing strewn around the floor. Choking on his sobs, he collapsed and pulled all her garments up close to him and just cried. He spent that night working his way through a bottle of whisky, alternately pacing the rooms of his house or slumped on his couch.
The next day dawned bright and clear. Jason awoke with a throbbing headache and a twist in his gut. He checked his phone, TV and computer…nothing. The situation was serious. Even in the worst disaster, one had some communication. Now there was silence. What to do? He paced around his living room for some time, disoriented by the information blackout. His thoughts turned to his family. His mother lived alone in Florida, in a retirement community and his only brother was in California. His father had left the family when Jason was eight. He had lost his job and fell into a depression. Finally he just cut and ran, leaving the family to fend for themselves. He disappeared rather than face the daily needs of his family when he couldn’t provide for them. Before the power went out it had been easy to transcend distance and keep in touch. Now they were so remote, with a possibility of never seeing or hearing from them. The thought was so odd, so final that he dismissed it from his mind.
Energy. Was the gas still working? He checked and it was, but he needed the barbecue lighter to light the stove. How long will that hold out? He knew he could not count on the gas for long. He began to take stock of his situation. He checked his propane tanks, camping stove gas and gas left in his vehicles. Food needed to be inventoried as well. Jason was a bit of a survivalist and kept a six month supply of emergency food in the basement. Maggie accused him of being a closet Mormon, to which Jason would reply, “Yep, and I’m thinking about a second wife.” Maggie would then respond with something on the order of, “Over my dead body…or hers.” And they would chuckle over this running joke. JHe loved Maggie’s possessiveness. The memories kept coming. His sadness grew with each one.
Maggie was quite glamorous. Jason always said she could have been a model and joked that he had married above his station. That comment had seemed to become more painfully true over the last two years. Maggie had always said that Jason seemed to have the spirit of a golden retriever, loyal, protective and always trying to be
helpful. He realized there was some truth to her characterization. She was so successful that he sometimes didn’t see how he fit in to her life. He was not sure how he helped fulfill her in their relationship.
Maggie was a rising fashion executive and spent much of her time in New York. Their being apart so much of the time did nothing to help cement the marriage and Jason feared it was only a matter of time before he got the notice from her that she had decided to relocate to New York, something Jason would never do. He loved the mountains and woods, and the thought of living in New York City made him shudder. He loved Maggie, but deep inside he knew something would always be missing in their marriage. Bittersweet tears came again and again as he thought of her.
After writing out a list of things to do, he made some coffee and had a small breakfast. Then he just stared at the list. Taking action seemed to elevate the improbable into reality. He kept waiting for the TV to come on and explain everything. Outside, it was unnervingly quiet. The quiet you hear when a snowstorm blankets the town. But now there was nothing moving, no cars on the roads, no planes in the sky. He stepped outside and listened carefully. The background hum from the interstate that ran past the town to the north was absent. No contrails or noise from jets flying overhead. Jason stepped back in the house and sat down. This was real. This was the big event. The unthinkable had happened. With a snort, he stood up.
If the worst has happened, what do I do? What do I want to do?
Chapter 3
In the first few days after the EMP burst, Jason took inventory of his supplies, and then set out to fill the gaps. His supply of food would last for many months if supplemented with what he could forage and hunt from the woods and fields surrounding his home. He also set out to supplement his supply of ammunition. Along with his 9mm semi-automatic pistol, a .223 Ruger carbine, Jason owned two shotguns, a 20 gauge, which Maggie shot occasionally, and a 12 gauge.
After the Fall (Book 1): Jason's Tale Page 2
