Finally it registered. The woman allowed Levi to help her from the car. Celia was there now, and Levi passed the woman to her.
“Get her away from here and over by our truck. I’ll get the driver out.”
“Hurry, Levi! The gas—”
“I know, get out of here, now!” Levi dug in his pocket and handed her the truck keys. “And back the truck away from here as quick as you can.”
Celia started toward the truck, dragging the rescued woman along in a stumbling run. Levi dived through the passenger door to reach across the now lucid driver and unlock the driver’s side door. He reached for her buckle, but she beat him to it.
“I’ll get your door open—” Levi began, but she was already tugging at the door handle.
“Jammed!” she cried and clawed her way from behind the wheel and over the center console as Levi backed out of the car to give her room. He helped her scramble out the open passenger door.
“Can you walk?” Levi asked.
“I can run. Which way?”
Levi grabbed her arm and ran toward where Celia had backed the truck fifty yards away. They were halfway there when the wreckage ignited with a whoosh.
The first victim was sitting on the open tailgate, obviously in shock. Levi helped the driver sit beside her friend. He retrieved two bottles of water from behind the truck seat and carried them back to the women. The driver accepted both gratefully, but the passenger continued to stare off into space.
“You’re bleeding, Levi,” Celia said.
Levi looked at his bloody right elbow. “Must have done it on the window.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Celia moved to the cab and returned with the small box and another bottle of water to wash the wound. She got it as clean as possible before she smeared it with antiseptic cream and bandaged it.
“That’ll have to do for now.” She lowered her voice. “What are we going to do about them?”
Levi’s face hardened. He looked down the road. There were two more wrecks in the distance and it was obvious cars were still moving, but traffic was beginning to back up.
“We leave them. We can’t wait for help. Emergency services will be totally maxed out, even assuming there’s any way to contact them. If we don’t get through this mess fast and make the turn onto Route 1114, we’ll be stuck here for hours. And between the Northern Lights and all these transformers popping, it’s obvious something is wrong. If we’re lucky, it’s localized, but we have to assume the worst. We have to get the family to safety, now!”
“We can’t just leave them here, Levi! One of them is in shock. She may have serious internal injuries.”
“She might, but what can we do about it? We saved their lives, but now we have to worry about our own family.” He nodded toward the women on the tailgate. “They’re on their own. You know I’m right, Celia.”
Celia hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. Levi hugged her, then fished more water and some protein bars from behind the truck seat and moved back to the tailgate.
“I’m sorry, ladies, but we have to leave. Our kids are home alone. I expect with all the accidents, the police and EMTs will be here shortly,” he lied. “We’ll leave you some more water and protein bars, but then we have to leave.”
The driver stood and helped her friend stand as well. Levi set the meager supplies at their feet.
“I understand,” the driver said as Levi closed the tailgate. “And thank you so much. We’d both be dead if not for you.”
“No problem,” Levi said, “I’m sure you would have done the same for us.”
They all stood in awkward silence until Levi nodded and moved towards the driver’s door. Celia hesitated a moment and then nodded and moved toward the passenger side. Levi opened his door, muttered a curse under his breath, and called back to the women.
“Where do y’all live?”
“About seven miles north, in a subdivision a half mile off 421. We were on our way to work,” the driver said.
“Is that before the turn for Route 1114?” Levi asked.
“Yes. Our road is about a mile before the turn.”
“Well, we’re going that way, so we can give you a ride home,” Levi said.
“But my car … and that … that other car … is the driver …”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s beyond help,” Levi said gently, moving back toward the tailgate as Celia matched his movements on the other side of the truck.
“It’s really best if you let us take you home,” Levi said.
“But … I can’t leave the scene of an accident, and Brenda’s not right. She needs to go to a hospital, I think … I just can’t …”
Levi and Celia were both by the women now.
“Ma’am, despite what I said, I’m pretty sure no one’s coming, at least any time soon. Y’all need to get off the road,” Levi said.
“But the police … I mean isn’t it a crime to leave the scene of an accident …”
“The other car isn’t burning,” Celia said. “I have some paper and a pen in the glove box. Leave your name and number on the other car and the police can contact you when they arrive. How’s that?”
“I guess so,” the woman said.
Celia retrieved an old envelope and a pen from the truck and scrawled a note. Levi trotted over and jammed it under the wiper on the intact passenger side of the windshield, doing his best to avoid looking at the corpse draped across the crumpled hood. Moments later they were all squeezed into the cab of Old Blue as Levi wound through wrecks and cars that had stopped to help. Twenty minutes after that they helped the women into the driver’s house and were back on US 17/421 headed north.
“I’m glad we helped them, Levi,” Celia said softly. “It was the Christian thing to do.”
Levi didn’t respond immediately.
“I’m glad we could help too,” he said finally, “but I expect the world’s just become a crueler place, Celia, and it’s likely charity, Christian or otherwise, may not have much of a place in it. And my family will survive, no matter what I have to do.”
Chapter Two
The White House
Situation Room
Day 3
3 April 2020
The Honorable Theodore M. Gleason, President of the United States of America, glared down the long table at the Secretary of Energy. The man didn’t meet his gaze, but continued reading, tension in his voice.
“Between 0500 Eastern Daylight Time on 1 April and 1700 Eastern Daylight Time yesterday, 2 April 2020, a solar storm of unprecedented magnitude released a series of massive coronal mass ejections, all of which struck Earth. The number of impacts is unknown, as the first events destroyed measuring instrumentation. Global damage is severe.”
The Secretary paused. A glance at the President was met with a stony stare. He quickly continued.
“Damage assessment of the North American power grid is ongoing, but in excess of sixty percent of the two thousand one hundred high voltage transformers are confirmed damaged beyond repair. Percentages for medium voltage transformers are similar. Damage to millions of smaller distribution transformers to residential and commercial service drops is more difficult to assess, but sampling suggests a failure rate over seventy percent. Power is out across all of North and Central America. Though the transformers were a known vulnerability—”
“Then why weren’t they addressed?” The question was quiet, for all its career-killing potential.
The Secretary of Energy stalled. “Excuse me, Mr. President?”
“It’s a simple question, John. If these transformers were so damned vital, why wasn’t the issue addressed?”
“With respect, Mr. President, everyone in this room knows why. Those transformers are forty-five feet tall with a footprint of over two thousand square feet—larger than most single-family homes. We have to close roads to move even one of them. And they’re custom built for each site, so it’s not just a matter of keeping a few interchangeabl
e spares on hand; ‘addressing the issue’ requires one hundred percent spares. Even if the government mandated one hundred percent spares, the private utilities would have to raise rates by three hundred percent or more to pay for it, and neither the utility industry nor their various regulators have ever deemed rate increases of that magnitude politically feasible. Both parties have been kicking this particular can down the road for a long, long time, Mr. President. Time has run out.”
Gleason visibly struggled to contain his rage, and the room grew silent, awaiting his outburst. It never came.
“Very well,” he said, “there’ll be time enough to get into causes later. What’s important now is restoring power. How long are we looking at, bottom line?”
The Secretary of Energy took a deep breath. “Bottom line, Mr. President? Years. Spares to recover in the short term simply don’t exist, nor does the capability to produce or ship them. Most are, or I should say were, manufactured in Germany and South Korea, and even if limited manufacturing capability is restored, global demand will be tremendous. Every country that restores or develops manufacturing capability will undoubtedly restrict exports until domestic needs are met, which means we have to develop our own capability in the midst of this chaos. There are only five manufacturing plants in all of North America even capable of manufacturing HVTs, and three are in Canada. Our current most optimistic estimate is power restoration to forty to fifty percent of the US within a decade—”
BANG! Coffee cups jumped in their saucers as Gleason slapped the table.
“UNACCEPTABLE! Don’t sit at this table and tell me what CAN’T be done! Get off your ass and start finding me solutions to this problem.” Gleason looked at his watch. “It’s a bit after nine. We’ll reconvene at three and I expect a plan from you for getting power back in months, not years. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” the Secretary of Energy said, stuffing papers into his briefcase.
Gleason nodded at the rest of his cabinet. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned. Be back here at three p.m., prepared to update us in your various areas of interest.” He looked at his Chief of Staff and the Secretary of Homeland Security. “Doug, Ollie, stay back please.”
The pair nodded and kept their seats while the rest of the cabinet members rose and filed from the room. When the door closed behind the last to leave, Gleason turned to Oliver Crawford, Secretary of Homeland Security.
“How bad is it, Ollie?”
“It’s bad, Mr. President. Within forty-eight hours every major city in the US will be ungovernable. We need to get you up to Camp David Compound and soon. The First Family will go via chopper, of course, but the others will go by motorcade with armed escort. If we wait much longer, they may have to fight their way out of the city.”
Gleason nodded and turned to his Chief of Staff. “Okay, Doug, work with Ollie’s people to start the move but not until we finish our meetings today.”
Doug Jergens nodded and scribbled on a legal pad.
“Mr. President, we should go ahead and get the Vice President and his group headed toward the NORAD Complex in Cheyenne Mountain, in accordance with the Continuity of Government plan,” Crawford said.
“Good idea,” Gleason agreed. “How about the Mount Weather complex? Is FEMA ready to open for business?”
“It’ll be tight, but we can accommodate senior military, members of Congress, and their families and staff. Not all underground, but the surface complex is huge too. We’ll manage, providing we can round them all up.”
Gleason shot him a questioning look.
“Easter recess, Mr. President. It was to start today, but there were no major votes scheduled in either house, and a lot of legislators took off last weekend. No telling where they all are now, and with comms down, they might be tough to locate.”
Doug Jergens nodded. “Most of them probably wanted to get some campaigning time in.”
Gleason snorted. “Elections! We’ll be lucky to have a friggin’ country in November.”
“Ah … about that, sir,” Secretary Crawford said, “have you thought about the way forward.”
Gleason’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Crawford took a deep breath. “The only way I see surviving this with any sort of national government intact will likely require using the Constitution as toilet paper, something damn near impossible without a cooperative legislature. We both know there’s a pretty fair chance we might not be holding elections in seven months. If that happens, whoever shows up here and now is going to be in power a long time. We have some control now, and we’d be foolish not to use it.”
“You’re suggesting I just abandon any legislator who might present future problems?”
Crawford shook his head. “Not at all. If a legislator is in town, we put them, their family, and staff on the bus for Mount Weather, regardless of their party or perspective. But I’m betting that will be a minority. And if they’re NOT here, or don’t contact us, I see nothing wrong with restricting use of our very limited resources to finding and transporting those members of Congress we believe to be most beneficial to the country’s recovery. It’s all about the national interest.”
“As dictated by us?”
“Well, yes, sir, but I’d probably avoid that particular verb,” Crawford said.
“Point taken. Both points taken, actually.” Gleason turned to his Chief of Staff. “Doug?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Draw up a priority list of our favorite legislators and render all possible aid in getting them up to Mount Weather.”
The White House
Situation Room
3:00 p.m.
Gleason walked into the room, motioning his cabinet secretaries to keep their seats. They stood anyway and waited for him to settle into his own seat before they sat back down.
“All right, folks,” Gleason said, “let’s get started. I want a brief, and I stress brief, overview of the situation from the viewpoint of your particular problems and challenges. Is that clear?”
There were nods around the table.
“All right, we’ll start with State.” Gleason gestured to a woman sitting to his right. “You’re up, Dot.”
Dorothy Suarez, Secretary of State, nodded. “Thank you, Mr. President. All of our embassies have hardened backup generators and radio stations. We’ve heard from all of them. In brief, the global situation mirrors our own, especially in the northern hemisphere. Civil unrest is accelerating. Our facilities are all on high alert. Our foreign counterparts are, like us, currently assessing the way forward. Initial indications are the southern hemisphere may have escaped the brunt of the impact. Specifically, the southern portions of both Chile and Argentina, all of Uruguay, Paraguay, much of Sub-Saharan Africa, Australia, and New Zealand are reported to have electrical power. Rio Grande do Sol, the southernmost state of Brazil, may also have escaped relatively unscathed.”
“Threats?” Gleason asked.
“I’ve consulted with both the Agency and Defense.” She nodded toward the Secretary of Defense. “Secretary Ballard will touch on that as well, but our consensus is there are no immediate foreign threats. Frankly our biggest concern at State right now is getting our people home.”
“Understood. Sounds like we should hear from Defense next.” Gleason nodded toward the Secretary of Defense.
“No one is in a position to launch a conventional attack,” the Secretary said, “and the consensus is a nuclear attack would be pointless, as we would meet it with an overwhelming response from our submarine-based nukes. However, long-term viability of our overseas bases is dependent upon the infrastructure in the host country, and that’s impossible to assess. After consultation with the Joint Chiefs, our recommendation is the repatriation of US military personnel by the most expeditious means, leaving behind only a skeleton force to maintain and secure the bases pending our eventual return. We can start repatriation of both military and State Department personnel an
d dependents via navy ships.”
“How about equipment?” Gleason asked.
The Secretary of Defense grimaced. “Anything we can’t fly or sail home will be at risk, Mr. President. We will bring away all our forward-deployed tactical nukes and as much other equipment as possible. But we’ll have to leave a lot. Armor, missile batteries, or other equipment will be pre-rigged with demolition charges so the ‘stay behind’ force can destroy them quickly if necessary to keep them from falling into the hands of those who might use the equipment against us.”
“How are you going to resupply the stay-behind force?”
“The numbers will be small, Mr. President, and we’ll leave them enough resources for several months. We’ll reassess sixty days down the road and decide whether to pull them out or resupply them. We didn’t feel we could in good conscience abandon our entire overseas infrastructure with incomplete intelligence and seventy-two hours of study.”
Gleason nodded. “It sounds like a prudent approach, so proceed. But you said use the navy ships to ‘start’ repatriation. Does that mean you don’t have sufficient transport capacity?”
“That’s correct Mr. President. Accommodation space is tight on navy ships already, and we’ll have to make multiple trips. Quite frankly, I doubt things will hold together long enough to allow that. My next suggestion was to authorize military commanders on scene to charter commercial vessels and purchase food and stores. The question then becomes payment and what to do if ship masters or bunker suppliers refuse our offers.”
Gleason reflected a moment. “Payment will be by voucher, guaranteed by the full faith and trust of the US government. Should anyone refuse to accept vouchers, use all necessary force. Just try not to piss off anyone with nukes.”
The Secretary of Defense nodded, and the President looked across the table. “Agriculture.”
“Domestically, this couldn’t have hit us at a worse time, Mr. President,” said the Secretary of Agriculture. “We have limited stocks of recently harvested winter wheat and barley, but less than five percent of this year’s grain crop has been sown. Getting the rest of the crop in and cultivating it all is going to be tough with fuel shortages. Internationally, things look better. It’s just past harvest in the southern hemisphere, and there are substantial crop surpluses in southern Latin America, Southern Africa, and Australia/New Zealand. We’re trying to get grain purchase contracts in place. The big unknown is cost.”
Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 Page 2
