7.What were some of the long-term consequences of PF Day for society in terms of physical, emotional, and financial problems? (Examples: millions of deaths, post-traumatic stress, financial meltdown, etc.)
8.How did Bracken, Alex, and Calvin change throughout the story? What specific things made you aware of those changes?
9.How did Bracken and his family perceive Ben’s personality while he stayed with them?
10.How did the presence of Bracken’s grandparents help the family?
11. How did the death of Robin’s dad, the near-fatal appendicitis of the little boy in town, and Robin’s difficult childbirth affect Bracken’s mom’s confidence in her medical knowledge?
12.What did people speculate about baby Joey’s unusually large head and intelligence?
Questions and Answers
How likely is a coronal mass ejection like the one in the book to happen?
The story portrays a "perfect storm" scenario, so it is unlikely but still a possibility. There are solar events happening every year and some are quite large, but not only does the CME (coronal mass ejection) have to be huge and highly charged magnetically, it has to hit the Earth's atmosphere just right in order to cause the kind of destruction portrayed in the story. The CME itself rotates, one side being positively charged and the other being negatively charged. If the CME hits Earth's atmosphere with the same polarity, positive-to-positive or negative-to-negative, the CME pulse will be repelled into space, much like what happens when you hold two magnets together with the same poles facing each other. But if it hits the opposite polarity and the CME's magnetic field is strong enough, the Earth's magnetic field may collapse and the surge will quickly circumnavigate the globe, likely taking down most, if not all, of the power grids and short-circuiting a large percentage of all electronic devices. There are only a few places in the world that manufacture the 125 kilowatt transformers that are the backbone of the power grids; if a majority of those transformers are fried, it could take years, maybe even decades, to replace them.
What would be the greatest dilemma for humans if something like this were to happen?
It would be hard to pinpoint one problem that would be the greatest, since so many things would most likely cause millions and maybe even billions of deaths. Immediately with the electromagnetic surge, up to two thirds of vehicles on the road would experience engine stall and traffic lights would blink off, causing a multitude of traffic accidents. Some people might be electrocuted by surges through the power lines and electronic devices, and workers at power plants may die in the explosion of transformers. Within a few days, people who rely on ventilators, dialysis machines, and other electronic devices would probably die as the fuel for the back-up generators runs out. Pharmaceutical companies would run out of supplies of medicines and within a few months, people who rely on medicines to stay alive may die. Remember, no manufacturing or drilling for and refining oil can occur without power. Food supplies will run low and many people will have to loot or fight for food. Sewage treatment plants will not be operable, so sewage will back up on city streets, causing all sorts of diseases; diseases for which medicine is no longer available to cure. Finding clean water will become a priority very quickly as cities will no longer be able to pump and treat water. Keeping warm will be a struggle in colder climates, as not that many people have heat sources that do not require electricity or fossil fuels to run.
Find Out More
"Our sun is approaching a period of high turbulence, referred to as the solar maximum, with many scientists suggesting a peak in activity around 2013." This activity could result in a coronal mass ejection, which, under the perfect circumstances, could cause the collapse of the power grid as portrayed in How I Became a Teenage Survivalist. Find out more about solar superstorms and coronal mass ejections (CMEs) by visiting:
NOVA Secrets of the Sun
www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/space/secrets-sun.html
The Sun's Wrath: Worst Solar Storms in History
www.space.com/12584-worst-solar-storms-sun-flares-history.html
NASA Science: A Super Solar Flare
http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2008/06may_carringtonflare/
Solar Superstorm Could Knock Out US Power Grid
http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/04/us-solar-superstorm-idUSBRE8721K820120804
Learning how to survive without electricity is all about creative problem solving. Think about everything in your life that runs on electricity and try to figure out a way to replace each of them. The links below show how Bracken's family and friends solved some of their most pressing problems. Find out how to become a survivalist:
How to make pop bottle "light bulbs"
www.guardian.co.uk/enviroment/2011/dec/23/sunlight-bulbs-plastic-bottles-light#
How to make a homemade washing machine
www.off-grid.net/2010/04/22/diy-washing-machine-and-homemade-laundry-soap/
How to make a wood-burning stove from an old hot water heater
www.instructables.com/id/Convert-a-Hot-Water-Heater-Into-a-Wood-Stove/
How to make a hydraulic ram pump to pump water
www.instructables.com/id/Hydraulic-Ram-Pump/
Acknowledgements
Thanks to the folks at the Office of Letters and Light for sponsoring the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) contest during which this book was written. The motivation to write this book from start to finish in the month of November 2011 came from their inspirational and humorous emails. I encourage everyone to support this worthy cause through donations, and maybe even to try the writing challenge sometime.
A huge debt of gratitude is due to my lovely friend Landi Quinlin for editing the book and making insightful suggestions on how to make it better before I submitted it to the publisher. Big thanks and much love to the family and friends who read the manuscript and offered ideas and support, including, but not limited to, Jan Powell, Lee Powell, Myrna Hopkins, Amanda Eldridge, Sue Greffer, Jean Newton, Chyre Buntz, Vona Edwards, South Holt R-1 School students, and fellow authors Tracy Lane, Judy Pierce, Patricia Vanasse, Monica Strang, and Whitney Grady.
Big thanks to my pal Jim Conlon of Scout Productions for the creation of the fabulous trailer for the book, to John Morris for his keen camera work, Brad Boe for the awesome special effects, Phil Meyer for his marvelous narration, and to the kids, teachers, and parents at South Holt High School who starred in it, particularly Mac Kelly, Gavin Graupman, Hannah Smith, Macala Shirley, Jonn Casey, Landi Quinlin, and William Barton.
And finally, thanks to my dear husband Jonn Casey, my wonderful children and grandchildren, my loving parents and parents-in-law, and all my extended family and friends. Without you all, none of this would have been possible.
About the Author
Julie Casey lives in a rural area near St. Joseph, Missouri, with her husband, Jonn Casey, a science teacher, and their three youngest sons. After teaching preschool for fifteen years, she has been homeschooling her four sons for ten years. Julie has Bachelor of Science degrees in education and computer programming and has written four books. She enjoys historical reenacting, wildlife rehabilitation, teaching her children, and writing books that capture the imaginations of young people.
Find out more at www.julielcasey.com.
A Message from the Author:
Thank you for taking the time to read my book. I would be honored if you would consider
leaving a review for it on Amazon.
Time Lost
Teenage Survivalist II
Julie L. Casey
Copyright © 2014 by Julie L. Casey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher.
Book design by Julie L. Casey
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0615986944
Printed in the United States of America.
For more information, visit
www.teenagesurvivalist.com
or
www.amazingthingspress.com
For my family
without whom survival would be pointless.
Chapter 1
Crumpled Memories
Time had always played a minor role in my life, lurking in the shadows, only bursting out to assert its pompous self-importance in the excruciatingly slow last three minutes of history class or the gut-wrenching last thirty seconds of our football game, when the other team had the ball and the chance to eek out the win. On other occasions, it would sweep events in front of it, in a hurry to get them over with and out of the way, like during our all-too-brief lunch periods or gone-in-a-flash summer vacations. But mostly, Time was something I never thought about; it was just another ever-present force like the geomagnetic field surrounding the earth. Who could have known that both those constant, universal forces could be brought to their knees in a matter of seconds by a force greater than both of them?
I can barely remember back when Time worked to my advantage, when it embraced me in its comforting arms and held my hand during long stretches of happiness. I remember walking to the park every day with my mother, one hand held securely by her, the other holding onto the snack she always brought me when she picked me up from daycare after work. We’d walk slowly to the swings while Mom would ask me about my day and laugh at the cute little things I’d say. Then we’d swing together, mom on the next swing over, her hand covering mine while I grasped the chain of my swing. She’d help me swing that way, unlike the other moms, who pushed their kids from behind. I remember thinking that she was the coolest and most beautiful mom in the world, and I the luckiest boy. I have one particular picture of her in my mind: she is leaning back in the swing, her golden hair flowing out behind her; her eyes are closed and her mouth is curved into a big smile. I’m not sure if this is a real memory of her or one I’ve created to cope with the loss of that happy time.
Another snapshot I guard protectively, locked away in the chest of treasured memories in my mind, is of her opening the present I gave her that last Christmas before the split. I remember my dad taking a rare break from his endless pursuit of financial success to help me find the perfect gift for her, one that I was sure would ease the tension that I could feel growing in our household. I had an idea of what I wanted to get for her. Mom was a nurse at a family clinic just a few blocks from our house in North Kansas City. She always wore a nurse’s watch pin on her sweater to use when she counted a patient’s heartbeat. Mom always wore a sweater over her scrubs; she was always cold, even in the summer, when she complained that the air conditioners made her feel like she was in the arctic. A few weeks before Christmas that year, her watch fob broke, and she had had to carry the watch in her pocket instead of pinned to her sweater. In my still-childish, 12-year-old mind, I thought the broken watch was the source of her sadness and somehow the reason she was suddenly less available to me in the evenings, often leaving me at home alone until after dinner. Sometimes Dad would even get home before she did, and I could tell it upset him that she wasn’t there.
Dad took me to countless jewelry stores that Saturday before Christmas, until I finally found the perfect one: the watch face was set in a gold, heart-shaped case and suspended by a gold chain from a red, enameled bow, which had a pin on the back. As with all nurse’s watch pins, the clock face was upside down so that Mom could see the second hand whizzing around while she took a patient’s pulse. It was expen-sive—I remember Dad pulling out three hundred-dollar-bills to pay for it while he half-joked that just because my name was Benjamin didn’t mean I should spend all his “Benjamins.” It was the most I’d ever seen him spend on anything; I think he felt the importance of the gift, too.
On Christmas, Mom sat off by herself with a little sad smile, watching me as I excitedly opened my new Xbox 360 and several games to go with it. Then I gave her my gift. The jewelry store had wrapped the gold box with a big red bow and I had made a little card shaped like a heart with a picture of us swinging drawn on it. Mom’s eyes got all teary when she saw the card and when she opened the box, she merely smiled and held it against her chest, murmuring,
—Thank you, my sweet boy.
It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for. I had envisioned her exclaiming with joy and embracing Dad and me in a giant hug, but she just sat there, trying not to cry. I remember being so confused and disappointed by her reaction and when I looked at Dad, he looked sad too. I think that is when I knew our family wouldn’t be together much longer. I don’t know how I knew; I just did. I grew up faster that day than in all the twelve years preceding it.
After the holiday break, I was almost happy to be back at school. I was already tired of playing video games by myself all day. Sometimes, one of my friends’ moms would come pick me up and take me over to their house to spend the day, but since no kids my age lived in my neighborhood, I spent most of the holidays at home alone. Back at school, at least I had people to talk to for a good chunk of the day, which was a relief, even if I had to do some homework along the way. On the bus rides home from school, though, the loneliness would begin to swell up in my chest again, especially when we passed the park filled with happy toddlers and doting mothers. Even though I was way too old to swing and hold my mom’s hand, I remember thinking that I’d give away everything I owned just to be able to spend another day with her in the park, while Time looked the other way and let us be for a while.
Time was no longer good to me; when I was alone, it crept along like a slowly melting icicle, but on the rare occasions that my parents would spend time with me, always separately and desperate to win my favor, Time would flow like a raging river after the spring thaw. One bright, cold day in February, Dad moved to an apartment in the heart of Kansas City, just a few blocks from where he worked as an accountant on the 14th floor of the tallest building in Kansas City. I remember counting the floors of that building one day and discovering that it was really the 13th floor, but Dad explained that people were superstitious about the number thirteen, so they skipped it in tall buildings.
One unexpected benefit of Dad moving out was that he made a point of picking me up every weekend and actually doing things with me like playing video games and taking me out to eat. We got closer than anytime I could remember in my life, but at the expense of getting further away from Mom. Their divorce was final the summer after my 13th birthday, which is on April 13th, and I began to believe in the evil of that number. It seemed that being born on the 13th had destined me to an unlucky life. Mom seemed happier than she’d been in a long time and, for some reason that angered me. When I found out that she had been dating one of the doctors at her clinic, I was furious—how could she betray both Dad and me, choosing someone else over us.
I began to beg Dad to let me move in with him and before the next school year started, he agreed to ask Mom. She was adamantly opposed to the idea at first; I thought it was because she didn’t want to look like a bad mother. I picked fights with her many times over stupid little things and at other times I was just angry and sullen. Finally, she reluctantly agreed, as long as Dad could arrange to drop me off and pick me up from my same school.
After I moved in with Dad, I began to see less and less of Mom. I just couldn’t get over the fact that she was to blame for the breakup of our family. Even our phone conversations became strained, and I began to ignore her calls when I saw her name on the caller ID. Once, when I was staying at her house on the weekend, she had her new boyfriend over to meet me and have dinner with us. I could barely be civil. If Mom deserved the blame for turning my world upside down, then this man had to be the reason she did it; he had to be more important to her than me. I was filled with anger and loathing toward him, and it was all I could do to get through dinner without choking on the baseball-s
ized lump in my throat. I didn’t see much of my Mom after that night. I made up excuses like I was staying at a friend’s house or I didn’t feel good, to avoid my weekends with her. I figured she’d rather spend the time with her new man anyway.
Mom and Lyle got married just before my 14th birthday, completing the misery of that unlucky year. I was forced to walk Mom down the aisle since her dad had died before I was born. I refused to say anything, though, when the minister asked, Who gives this woman to be married to this man?, I just let her go and went to sit down, with my eyes on the floor for the rest of the ceremony. I didn’t want to add a picture of this travesty to the treasure chest of memories in my head. After the wedding, Mom moved into a nice new house with Lyle and sold our family home. Now my childhood was boxed up and stored away like the memories of my happier days.
Chapter 2
The Day Time Stopped
My 13th year was when my family fell apart, but my 14th year was when my whole world, or more precisely, the whole world, collapsed. I had thought 13 was the unlucky number, the year that Time turned its back on me, but I was wrong; that year, it was I who had turned my back on Time. The following year, Time was turned back for everyone.
The August of my 14th year, I started high school at a charter school a couple of miles or so from our apartment and rode the school bus every day, which I despised. Dad promised that he would buy me a car when I turned 16, so I wouldn’t have to ride the bus anymore, but that was still a year and a half away. As usual, I didn’t like school much, except that I had made the Freshman Football team, not because of size, but because of speed. I liked football, mostly because it gave me something to do after school while Dad was still at work, and it meant I didn’t have to ride the bus back home. Dad would pick me up at 5:30, after practice, and we would grab a bite to eat before he took me home and went back to the office for a couple more hours of work. Mom tried repeatedly to get me to come to her house when Dad worked late, but I always made excuses to avoid it.
Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3] Page 15
