Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  The governor had issued a state of emergency. Authorities were conducting a massive manhunt for all sleeper cell operatives. So far, they had only captured the driver of the failed vehicle-bombing plot in Austin. Hakeem should never have allowed himself to get caught. And Asgar was determined to ensure that not one more man would find himself in the arms of the authorities.

  The National Guard had been deployed to federal buildings, transportation centers, and utilities. Schools were closed. Air travel was shut down. Stadiums were closed and major events canceled. It was harder than ever to move freely around the state, and Asgar believed it was only a matter of time before they government discovered their warehouse. Texas officials had deployed every necessary resource to keep the terrorists at bay, or so it seemed.

  That would all change soon enough.

  Asgar gathered many of his top lieutenants in a darkened room of cracked concrete walls and cobwebs, where they formed a circle over a table filled with blueprints, photos, and maps. A hanging light, swaying slowly like a pendulum, illuminated the table. There were ten men in all, including Asgar in the center, slowly scratching his thin, graying beard as Bosra stood in the corner of the room, silently watching the proceedings before him, as always.

  Their collective anticipation was unlike any previous meeting between the lieutenants. As he spoke, Asgar commanded their attention and quiet restraint. What ISIS had managed to accomplish under his steadfast leadership, for them, was nothing short of miraculous. Most of them were in their late thirties, older than the younger recruits. They had raised funds, recruited jihadists, and helped establish safe houses for their operations. And they were confident that Asgar was a man true to his word. The Americans would pay.

  Asgar’s robed arm extended to the center of the table where a typed list lay, printed in Arabic, near a large, leather-bound Quran.

  “We have done well so far, my brothers. Several of our brothers have clogged the FBI hotline with bomb threats made against malls, parks, schools, stadiums, bus stations, and everything else you can imagine. You’ll see many of these locations listed here.”

  He paused and held up the list for the men to see. Then he set it down and continued.

  “I paid Farid a visit at his home earlier. He has been overseeing the hacking of government social media accounts, from the pentagon to the CIA, flooding them with a bombardment of potential targets.”

  He reached down, his beaming, slightly wrinkled face, marked by the folds of his smile. He held up another piece of paper written in Arabic.

  “This is our official target list that Farid helped me leak to the media. The media, useful as always, believe it to be genuine and have already published the targets on their news sites, but we will not attack a single one of these places. No, my brothers, we have something much larger in mind.”

  Asgar was met with smiles from all the clean-cut men around him, who had changed from their westernized attire of polo shirts and slacks to the green-camouflage-patterned fatigues of an ISIS jihadist. The message was clear: they were ready to deliver the fatal blow against the enemy.

  Asgar continued in his booming oratory voice. “Less than two percent of the Texas population works for law enforcement or the armed forces. We have them spread so thin that our plan is now ripe for attack. And attack we will.”

  From the corner of the room, Bosra eyed the group, seemingly indifferent to the proceedings. Outside, men could be heard calling to each other as they moved crates and loaded ammo into their rifle magazines. The sleeper cell was working at a rapid pace, fueled by sense of duty to the cause.

  Asgar waved his hand over the blueprints below. “None of you is surprised to hear that we’ve been studying the Dallas nuclear power plant for some time now. The FBI obviously considers such places hot targets for terror attack. It should come as no surprise that every water, gas, or utility structure will be under maximum protection. It’s not going to be easy.”

  Asgar paused as the men looked to him waiting to hear the solution. The very idea of going near such a sensitive target during a state of emergency seemed insane. Asgar believed he could convince them otherwise.

  “We will move at this target and seize it with several of our most highly trained jihadists. Every single one of them understands that they are not coming back. All they have to do is get inside the plant. We know exactly where to place the explosives. We know how much is needed to rupture the cores. Upon impact, the explosion will release enough radioactive particles into the air to wipe them out everything for hundreds of miles. But we will be long gone by then, brothers. I can assure you.”

  From the other side of the table, Tarik, a tall, slender man with scarred hands and bad teeth, interjected a note of concern. “And what happens if they do not reach the target? What happens, my leader, if they fail?”

  Asgar seemed to revel in the query. He clasped his hands together, and rather than being angry at one of his lieutenants expressing doubt, he seemed taken with the question.

  “I’m glad you brought that up, Tarik,” he said with a smile. “That brings me to the next step in our plan. Please,” he said, motioning to the door, “follow me.”

  Bosra moved to the door and opened it, and the men shuffled out, with Asgar leading. Outside the room was a large open bay, with men moving around in a hurry, carrying weapons and gas masks to a line of parked vans outside a loading dock. In the middle of the bay was a large and unmistakable five-ton military cargo truck. The cargo bed was completely covered with green tarp over the frame, and the truck itself looked like a model from the 1980s.

  The lieutenants had seen the truck before but hadn’t been filled in on any details. Asgar casually strolled to its back end and signaled Bosra to open the tailgate. “Gentlemen, once you see this, all your concerns will be put to rest”

  Bosra pulled the bolts on both sides of the tailgate and lowered it gently against the truck. From eye level, the men peered inside, curious, but could only see darkness. Asgar pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it inside.

  “I have full confidence in our brothers to complete their mission. With Allah’s guidance they will hit their target.” Asgar paused and raised a stern finger. “But if, by chance, the Americans stop them, we will detonate this beautiful thousand-pound nuclear bomb.” Their eyes widened as Asgar pulled a remote device from his robe pocket. “And I possess the device that not only arms the bomb, but will detonate it in a matter of minutes.”

  The men stood speechless as the younger jihadists continued their hasty preparation for war.

  “But… Salah,” Tarik said, standing before the truck, and realizing the enormity of the power that was in their hands. “You didn’t tell us you were in possession of a bomb.” He paused, beside himself. “Where did you get something like this?”

  Asgar placed the remote device back in his pocket. “Patiently… and very carefully. The southern border is wide open, my brothers, and I have taken full advantage of this.”

  “Why not just use this device and end this now?” asked Wasim, a shaggy-haired and muscular Middle Eastern man with a tidy mustache. “That way our men don’t have to sacrifice their lives as the—”

  Asgar quickly cut him off. “Because we will never have the opportunity to use this weapon again. It is for one time only. We must save it, if we can, for the best possible use.” A note of frustration had crept into his voice. “Do you know how long it took to secure its transport? How much money it cost? How many of our brothers worked and sacrificed to provide this? We don’t simply detonate the bomb just because we have it. Texas is only the beginning. Do you understand?”

  Wasim looked down with a sheepish nod. “Yes, my leader.”

  “Good.” Asgar turned to the others. “I see you eyeing the remote device in my pocket. I want to remind you that it is no good to any of you. For, you see, I’m the only one who has the knowledge of its code.”

  Takir put his arms out with a nervous laugh. “Salah! You’re not
suggesting that any of us would…”

  “Just don’t forget who has the control here,” Asgar said, eyes piercing. “Now we have a lot more to do, so let’s get to work!” He slapped his hands together as Bosra lifted the squeaky tailgate and locked it shut.

  The lieutenants dispersed throughout the busy bay. They moved with a purpose as the younger jihadists continued loading equipment. They were all men dedicated to a singular cause—away from their families and fueled by desire of victory against an impervious enemy. They were prepared to change history forever and bring about the dawn of a new age of jihad—an age of mass slaughter against the Americans.

  Burke’s black Ford Fusion raced across Interstate 20, with one hundred miles left to reach Dallas. They had passed several National Guard checkpoints that slowed traffic to an unimaginable degree on the otherwise open stretch of road. What they had so far experienced driving east, however, paled in comparison to the westbound traffic. People were evacuating the state in droves. The numerous terror warnings had the population on edge and hundreds of thousands of people fearing for their lives in the wake of the festival bombings.

  Rather than evacuating like so many on the opposite side of the interstate, Angela, Burke, and Martinez were headed straight into the heart of danger. Their only hope was that they’d get to the power plant in time. Imminent risk surrounded them at every turn. Though Angela and Burke were apparently on the FBI’s radar, they hadn’t warranted any notice at the checkpoints, and were waved through by National Guard soldiers—many of them young and seemingly overwhelmed by all the activity.

  They had a tremendous task ahead of them, with no guaranteed outcome of success. In any other circumstance, Angela would flee from danger, out of concern for her family. But the attacks, she believed, wouldn’t stop with any particular city or state. They had to face ISIS head-on, or the threat would follow them wherever they relocated. Part of her, however, wanted justice for Doug. Perhaps more than any other reason.

  During the lengthy drive, they had plenty of time to discuss their options and strategize. Once everything settled in, and Martinez realized what was at stake, he was taken with the cause and ready to do what was necessary to stop ISIS from carrying out their most heinous attack. He sat in the back seat, actively reaching out to every contact he had in the Outlaw militia. They wouldn’t be hard to convince, he explained. The Outlaws were always looking for a good fight. But there was no report on the numbers yet, who they could count on, and when they were expected to meet up.

  Angela let him do his work as he made multiple phone calls and tried to explain the situation the best he could.

  “Hudson, we need all the guys we can get,” he said, now on his third or fourth call. “Shit’s about to hit the fan real soon. We know where they’re going to strike, and it’s going to happen soon.” Martinez paused as a loud, uncompromising voice came through the phone. “Look, I understand a lot of people are leaving. But if they hit this nuclear plant, you’re not going to get far enough in time to escape the radiation. We have no other choice but to stop it.”

  Angela sat in the passenger seat, watching the road ahead as traffic moved steadily along the four lanes—that was, until the next checkpoint. The gridlock on the eastbound interstate, separated by a dry canal, was a clear sign of what people were thinking. True fear was evident in every motorist they passed. The news on the radio was abuzz with terror warnings and reports detailing emergency measures implemented throughout the state.

  “The president is expected to address the nation within the hour with an urgent message to all Americans. Several aides, speaking on condition of anonymity, have revealed that the president is prepared to ask Congress for authorization of war against the Islamic State, something many believe the administration has taken great lengths, over the years, to avoid. But with thousands of Americans dead, women and children among them, and ISIS sleeper cells still at large, many analysts say that the president has no choice but to take definite action against a ruthless terror organization that has made no secret of its war against the United States.”

  Burke shook his head and took a drink from his water bottle. He hadn’t said much the past hour, and Angela was curious to know where his head was.

  “Better late than never,” he said, in reference to the report.

  Angela, however, had doubts. “What does that do for us now?”

  “Guess it’ll keep more of them from coming here. Take out the leadership.”

  “But ISIS is everywhere,” Angela said. “Iraq. Syria. Libya. Europe. Where would they even start?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve spread like an infestation,” Burke said.

  He paused and glanced at her, his voice somber. “They get to those nuclear reactors before we get there, we’ll die along with everyone here.”

  “We have to survive,” Angela said, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail. Her worn but finely shaped face remained intense and focused. She was physically smaller than both Burke and Martinez, but so far had been able to handle herself well in every situation calling for physical strength or bravery. They had made it this far.

  “Let me ask you this, Agent Gannon,” Burke continued. “Say we get there and the plant is well secured and under control. Would you be satisfied?”

  Angela stopped and thought to herself. “Of course I would, but I would recommend keeping an eye on the place. At least until Asgar is found and the threat eliminated.”

  Burke let out a heavy sigh. “That was exactly what I wanted to do. Find that son of a bitch and end this.”

  “We’re doing the right thing,” Angela said. “You have to believe that. I need you with me on this.”

  Burke held out a hand above the steering wheel gesturing with a “well” stance. “I’m here, aren’t I? Been with you every step of the way, right?”

  Angela nodded, hoping for just a bit more enthusiasm on his part. But they were so tired.

  A massive gray cloud encompassed the sky ahead. Flickers of lightening could be seen from miles away. They weren’t counting on a storm in their midst, but there was so little under their control that they had to face whatever was coming.

  Angela pulled her phone out, wanting nothing more than to talk to her daughters. She was afraid for them, even though it seemed as though they were safe—for now. She figured, if anything, that it was time to check in with Chief Drake. He could at least tell her what the status was on security for the deadliest targets in Texas. Last they spoke, he was distracted and antsy—clearly overwhelmed by the unfolding chaos. Perhaps he had a better handle on things now.

  His first words on the call were less than encouraging.

  “Gannon? Where the hell are you? The FBI has been up my ass all day!”

  “I’m safe, sir, but I can’t get into all the details. I need to know if they have placed adequate security at the power plants. Dallas, specifically. We have information that ISIS is ready to attack. Could be a matter of hours.”

  “Dallas?” Dark said. “Is that where you’re at?”

  She glanced at Burke with a look of panic across her face. “No sir. But I’m greatly concerned from the intel we received.”

  “Are you still playing CIA, Agent Gannon?”

  “Sir?” she said.

  “You and that Burke are nothing but trouble. The gruesome twosome. You wanna do someone a favor, get to the station now and talk to the FBI so they can focus on these terrorists and stop asking me about you.”

  She could tell from the way the conversation was going, there was no reaching the chief. A sudden suspicion came over her that the call was being listened to. “Are they with you now?”

  “What?” Drake scoffed. “Agent Gannon, you are way out of line. This insubordination I will not stand any longer. Tell me where you are!”

  “I’ve got to go,” she said, hanging up. She looked at Burke with a defeated expression. “That could have gone better.”

  “Forget it,” Burke said. “We’ll just hav
e to stick with the plan or die trying.”

  “Wonderful advice,” she said with a near smile.

  Ending his latest call, Martinez leaned forward. He was lying across the seat with his injured legs propped up. Angela thought about the promise she made to Gloria. She intended to honor her word and make sure to keep Martinez in the background. By the looks of him, she didn’t think he’d object.

  “I’ve talked to about ten Outlaws so far. Seven have committed. The other three are out of state.”

  “Ten men?” Burke said.

  “I’m just getting started,” Martinez said, defensively. “You have to understand. A lot of these guys do prepping. And when the shit hits the fan, as in this scenario, they take their families and leave.”

  Burke pointed to the eastbound lane to his left. “Doesn’t look like anyone is getting very far with that plan.”

  “I’m sure I can get more guys in on this thing. They believe in protecting this country, and everyone I’ve talked to so far knows how the government dropped the ball.”

  “You’re doing great,” Angela said, trying to keep him motivated.

  “Just keep making those calls,” Burke said. “I don’t know how many jihadists we’re looking at here.”

  Martinez leaned back against his seat, dialing the next number on his list. Seven wasn’t a bad number considering the last minute nature of everything. Burke kept driving at a steady rate of ten miles over the speed limit, trying not to draw any attention.

  Angela’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she closed her eyes and took a breath in an attempt to control her nerves. She thought of a time in the future when the entire ordeal would be over, ISIS defeated, and the country safe. It seemed like a fantasy, far out of reach. But the thought of having her daughters near, together and safe for the rest of their lives, kept her going.