Event Horizon (The Perseid Collapse Post Apocalyptic Series)

by Steven Konkoly

  “A false flag ploy?” asked the town selectman.

  “The bigger event is the false flag. Whatever they did to turn off the lights, that created the crisis.”

  “The government announced that a space-borne object broke up over the U.S and hit the East Coast. It explains the shockwave,” said someone deep in the crowd.

  “But not the EMP. I’ve studied this stuff. Meteorites don’t cause electromagnetic pulses. Only nukes and solar flares do that. Did you notice how they haven’t given an explanation for why your cars don’t work or why the lights are out? That’s because it doesn’t make sense. Instead, they say, ‘widespread power outages have been reported.’ No kidding, Sherlock. I couldn’t microwave my breakfast burrito this morning. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  The group broke into open laughter.

  Man, I love this, Eli thought.

  “I’m not buying the asteroid story, and neither should you. They’re watching the skies 24/7, detecting and analyzing inbound space objects years away. Ain’t no way they missed one as big as they claim. Judging by the blast wave we all experienced, I’d say they detonated a nuke over the water in the Gulf of Maine. Far enough away to minimize civilian casualties, but close enough to let us know that something big happened. I bet they did this up and down the East Coast where most of the people live.

  “I know this sounds extreme. I’ve gone over it in my head time and time again, trying to come up with a different scenario. Until the Milton Mills massacre, that is. I recognized the military’s handiwork immediately, I’m ashamed to say,” he said, letting those words sink in.

  “I’ve held you up long enough. If anyone is interested in learning more about the Maine Liberty Militia, we’ve set up a table in one of the smaller rooms down the hall. We’re looking for volunteers. Prior military experience is preferred, but anyone with basic firearms experience or a willingness to learn is welcome. We’ll provide the training and the firearms to keep the people of this town safe.

  “I know what you’re thinking; if the government hit team can take out fifteen of Eli’s best-trained men, what chance do you stand? I’m not going to BS any of you; we’re not training anyone to be a Navy SEAL. Militarily, we’ll never be a match for the teams roaming these parts, but if we organize quickly, they’ll back off. They’re in this for the long game. If they can’t keep us isolated and scared, they’ll switch to less drastic tactics or disappear completely.”

  “Does that mean the government won’t bother with us?” asked the selectman.

  Eli shook his head and grimaced. “The government’s still coming. They’re too vested at this point. The only thing we can do is change their early tactics. Save some lives. Keep your eyes open for strangers and any suspicious activity. Once word gets out that we’re not afraid, they’ll start employing some hearts and mind shi…stuff. Pardon my language, ma’am,” he said, directing his apology at the woman holding a toddler.

  “He’s heard worse, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling nervously.

  “One last thing everybody, before we all melt from the heat,” he said, fanning himself with his hand. “Two of my men were shot dead in Waterboro yesterday afternoon. The suspects, who may be women, were last seen driving toward Limerick along Route 5. Witnesses say the suspects shot them in cold blood and took their vehicle, a Black SUV. This happened around one in the afternoon, so if they made it to Limerick, they might have cruised through town maybe fifteen or twenty minutes later. Was anyone in town yesterday afternoon?”

  A few hands rose toward the ceiling.

  “Do any of you remember seeing a Black SUV? I imagine a functional car would stick out, right?” said Eli.

  A man with a grizzly beard and unkempt hair answered. “I remember it. We were out in front of Flannery’s Variety,” he said, nodding at Gary.

  “I was rationing out the last of the ketchup,” said Gary, stirring up a little laughter.

  “The SUV went by pretty fast, so I didn’t really see much. I don’t think it’s the one you’re looking for. This one had out-of-state plates. The back passenger window was rolled down, and Ken got a good look. Said there was like six people shoved back there. Ken Haskell thought he recognized one of the kids in the back seat, but he wasn’t sure. I just figured they were some lucky out of towners. Be a weird coincidence.”

  Eli had to proceed cautiously. Like his fictitious Special Forces hit-team, he was playing the long game. Nearly all of the vehicles acquired at the Milton Mills border crossing had out-of-state license plates, which would inevitably raise dubious questions about his fleet of functioning automobiles. He’d instructed his brother Jimmy to swap out the license plates at the church. Every vehicle they drove out of Milton Mills was supposed to have a Maine plate. Non-negotiable. Instead, Jimmy gave his son, Eli’s nephew, the shiniest late-model luxury SUV on the lot, and trusted his shit-for-brains son to change the plates himself.

  He wondered how many bong hits it took for his nephew to erase that data, knowing it was likely gone by the time the kid turned the key in the ignition. He was truly sorry to lose Jimmy, but in this newly arrived “dog eat dog” world, they were all better off without Nathan. Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to shake hands and thank his nephew’s killers. He still planned to personally skull fuck each and every person who left a mountain bike on the side of the road in Waterboro, before cutting their heads off and jamming them on a tall stake.

  I’ll blame it on the government, too!

  “I’m not a big believer in coincidences,” said Eli. “I assume Ken isn’t here?”

  “Out hunting. He’s got a few hundred acres up Sawyer Mountain Road,” said Grizzly.

  “Mind pointing out his place for me? I should probably talk to him. It will save the sheriffs a trip, not that we’re likely to see the cops again. Still, better safe than sorry. Right?”

  “I’ll show you the way, right after I sign your list. I’ve taken a few tactical carbine courses,” said Grizzly.

  “I’ll take you up on both offers. How about we take a drive up together once this settles down?” Eli suggested, wondering where Grizzly might land in his organization.

  Chapter 9

  EVENT +53:12

  Sanford, Maine

  Harrison Campbell heard the increasingly uncommon sound of a car engine echo through the barn. Car tires crackled along the dirt driveway a few seconds later, drawing his attention to the open door. One of his armed sentries stepped into the brightly contrasted opening.

  “It’s Glen. He’s got a woman in the car. I don’t recognize her.”

  Campbell placed the ham radio headphones on the communications desk and stood up, his back crackling as he extended fully upright. The past two days hadn’t been kind to his aging frame. There was no doubt about that. He’d slept on a cot next to the radios, his Kenwood transceiver scanning preset AM frequencies used by militia groups regionally and nationwide.

  Sleep didn’t come easy, as reports of civil disorder, fires, and a near complete breakdown of the nation’s essential services infrastructure travelled in high frequency radio waves to anyone who cared to listen. Information was spotty at best, but he’d gleaned invaluable information about the event from the airwaves. Cities beyond the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California and the Cascades in the Pacific Northwest seemed to have suffered less of an EMP disruption than the rest of the nation. None of the cities on the West Coast had power, which made sense given the interconnectivity of the nation’s electrical grid, but vehicle and home electronics remained mostly unaffected. California was a long way from New England, but it gave Campbell a glimmer of hope. Not all of the country was down for the count.

  News from the international community gave him mixed feelings. Amateur radio stations in Europe and other parts of the world confirmed that the event appeared to be confined to the United States. This was bad news, since it validated the growing theory that the United States had been targeted. It was also good news, however, since it l
eft the international community intact to render aid.

  The Council of the European Union had held an emergency session yesterday, to be followed later today by a full meeting of the European Parliament. The general consensus among radio reports seemed to indicate that the European Union would authorize a comprehensive recovery package, to be implemented immediately. Transmissions from U.S.-based radio stations questioned the intentions of these efforts, spurred by reports that the United Nations had reassembled in Geneva to discuss “options.” To some, this was bad news. It didn’t matter at this point. The United States was falling apart fast, and Campbell seriously doubted they could pull out of the deep dive without foreign intervention.

  He rubbed his eyes and walked between the timber benches to the door, catching sight of Glen Cuskelly and his supposed mystery guest as they approached. He recognized her immediately.

  “Carol, is everything all right? Is Brian okay?”

  The grave look on Glen’s face told him nothing was all right.

  “Brian’s fine, Harry. He’s home watching the kids, but we have a big problem.”

  “Come on in,” he said, gesturing for her to enter the barn, “unless you’d prefer to talk inside the house. Mary would be glad to fix you up a cup of tea. All I have here is some dreadful coffee.”

  “No, I think we better talk in here. Probably make sense to look at some maps while I’m talking.”

  “All righty then. Make yourself at home. Good to see you, Carol. Especially in light of what happened to Randy. You’re all still more than welcome to stay on the farm here if you don’t feel safe at your house.”

  “Feeling safe is a relative term nowadays,” she said, “but we may take you up on your offer. They killed Randy’s entire family.”

  “I’m really sorry. I know your families were close,” said Campbell.

  Carol’s eyes watered, and he left the topic alone as they made their way to the “situation room” in the back right corner of the barn. He lit the two-burner propane camping stove under the tin pot.

  “Hope you don’t mind reheated coffee,” he said, taking a seat across from her at the table, next to Glen.

  “That’s fine.”

  “So, what brings you to Sanford, Carol? It can’t be the coffee,” he said, eliciting a muffled laugh.

  “My husband didn’t feel comfortable leaving the property, given what happened to Randy’s family, or he’d bring the report himself,” she said.

  “Perfectly understandable.”

  “We shut ourselves in after finding the Cushmans slaughtered—and they were truly slaughtered,” she said, glancing at Glen.

  “Never seen anything like it. Whoever did that is an animal,” said Glen.

  “His radio was stolen, along with the chapter’s supplies. Paperwork too, as far as we could tell. We figured we were next, since Brian was his deputy commander. Maybe whoever did this just wanted the chapter’s stockpile.”

  “Seemed a bit more personal than that,” said Campbell’s deputy.

  Carol nodded and fought back tears.

  “If Glen knows the rest, you don’t have to tell it, Carol. I understand.”

  “No. It’s our new reality. We have to get used to things like this, I guess,” she muttered.

  “Not if we can get to the bottom of it quickly enough,” said Campbell.

  “So, Bill Fournier stopped by on the way back from town. He had some interesting news. Eli Russell was at the Old Town Hall riling up the people about military assassination teams and an upcoming government invasion.”

  “That’s Eli for you,” said Campbell.

  “Bill said he’s recruiting. From what he could tell, Eli added about ten names to his roster after the meeting. I guess he really pitched his militia hard, saying it’s the only thing that will stand between freedom and martial law. I guess there was some kind of Special Operations massacre at the border, or so he claims. Jimmy, his brother, was killed. Brian says good riddance. I didn’t know the man, so I couldn’t say.”

  “You’re better off never having known him. Trust me on that. I figured it was Jimmy that killed the Cushmans. He’s a hard-core ex-con. Spent most of his adult life in prison. I’d heard some rumors that he was putting together his own little spin-off crew. Sounds like they met with disaster out in Milton Mills. Good riddance indeed. With Jimmy gone, you guys shouldn’t have anything to worry about, but the offer still stands. We have plenty of room out here, and Mary would love to have the company. Glen and the gang ain’t cutting it for her,” he said, patting his deputy on the shoulder.

  “Here’s the thing. Randy’s truck was missing, right? Gray Chevy Avalanche?”

  “Yeah,” muttered Campbell.

  “Bill remembers seeing a big gray four-door pickup truck behind the town hall. It grabbed his attention, because he thought Eli’s meeting would be the last place on earth he’d find Randy. He couldn’t get a close enough look to confirm it, thanks to the heavily armed goons keeping people’s noses out of the parking lot.”

  “Carol, let’s bring your family over to Sanford. Actually, we should bring everyone in the Limerick chapter here until we sort this out. If Eli is behind all of this, it’s just a matter of time before he makes the rounds.”

  “How big of a group does he have?” asked Carol.

  “He has pretty much everyone we kicked out over the past five years, plus anyone we won’t take,” said Campbell. “Best guess, Glen?’

  “Sixty or seventy, depending on how many he can gather. Judging by the number of vehicles he has running, I’d say he gathered most of them.”

  “If he grabs ten volunteers every time he opens his mouth, York County is going to empty into his camp pretty quick. At that point, we’ll welcome the government with open arms,” stated Campbell.

  Chapter 10

  EVENT +54:37

  Limerick, Maine

  Kate stood in the basement next to her father-in-law, listening to Abby Walker explain Alex’s solar power diagram and the steps they took to hook up the bank of panels on the barn to the house’s battery system. Tim had called Kate off the perimeter to verify their work before they flipped the transfer switch.

  “Sounds like you followed his directions step by step, Abby. Not sure why Grandpa Fletcher and your mom called me in to check on your work, but I assume it has something to do with sharing the blame if the system self-destructs?” she said, raising an eyebrow at the adults.

  “This is going to be a long apocalypse,” grunted Tim.

  “Wait until Alex gets back,” said Kate, winking at Tim.

  “It’s working fine, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Abby, waving a yellow handheld instrument. “The new controller is blocking the flow of electricity because it can’t detect the battery bank charge. I tested the input beyond the controller with a voltmeter.”

  “Looks like you’re having fun, Ms. Tesla. If everyone concurs this is set up right, throw the switch.”

  “We have Emily and Ethan watching the connection in the barn. You never know…Alex’s log indicates that the bank of panels on the barn have never been tested with this gear. They have a fire extinguisher,” said Samantha.

  “Mom, it’s fine. The electricity is already flowing from the panels through the barn. This won’t change anything,” said Abby, shaking her head. “Ready?”

  “Go for it,” said Kate.

  Abby flipped the transfer switch, and nothing happened at the circuit breaker box. She pointed behind them at two side-by-side LED monitors wired to the battery bank, which consisted of 16 deep-cell, 12-Volt AGM batteries mounted on a thick wooden table in the center of the room. Red and black wires ran back and forth across the batteries, in a pattern that made little sense to Kate. She believed they were connected in parallel, whatever that meant. The monitors showed green numbers, which she assumed was a good sign.

  “It’s charging. The one on the left is set to measure the charging current and the one on the right is a multifunction monitor. It’s showing 12
.6 volts, which means the battery bank is about ninety percent charged. Based on the calculations in Mr. Fletcher’s book, the system is rated to provide 2880 amp hours, which should be enough to run lights at night, the security equipment, the pump for the well, and other appliances if absolutely necessary. Long term, we’ll have to closely monitor the charge and discharge rates. It’s all in the book. We should probably take a close look,” said Abby.

  Everyone clapped and congratulated Abby, who looked slightly embarrassed, but continued.

  “We replaced the controller, inverter and both monitors, but we don’t have any more backups.”

  “Is the system still vulnerable to an EMP?” said Kate.

  “We disconnected the grid-tie inverter, but according to Mr. Fletcher’s book, the wires connecting the panels to the house will probably conduct enough of the EMP to fry everything. If we get hit again, we’re out of luck.”

  “Well, I doubt that’ll happen. How many times in one lifetime do you get EMP’d?” said Tim.

  “Once is more than enough,” Samantha remarked. “Great job, sweetie. Your dad would be really proud!”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I didn’t understand half of what you said, but it sounds like we have a new power Czar at the compound. Congratulations on your promotion, Abby,” said Kate.

  “Sure, Mrs. Fletcher. Thank you. So, where are we going to set up the surveillance monitors?”

  “We wanted to ask you about that, Kate,” said Samantha. “Alex didn’t leave any instructions about where to set up the station. Everything is wireless, so it can pretty much go anywhere. We just need to plug in the monitors and the receivers for the cameras and sensors. Abby said she’ll have the wireless router set up in less than thirty minutes.”