by W. B. Martin
“John,” Paul said. “Amanda and I need to head into Boise today. We’ll take Dad’s old Ford pickup. It seems to be running well now since Isaac worked on it. It will be safe at the secure lot while I’m away,”
“I’ll keep the batteries charged up, so we’ll be on the air each evening if you need to reach us,” John said. “I’ll make sure everyone keeps up on their chores around here.”
“And Julie, you double-check those batteries for John. Don’t let him overlook anything. They’re critical,” Amanda said.
Paul saw the small smile on Amanda’s face as she said it. Then he felt a small tap on his leg under the table from Julie sitting next to him. He knew things would work out.
Chapter 11
Eugene, Oregon (3 months after P-Day)
The months since P-Day had been a mean, viscous time in Eugene. Those that weren’t starting to die from the famine that was in full bloom were subject to death by violence. A new threat had arisen in the area led by a thug who called himself Chairman Z.
Chairman Z had suddenly shown up in the area two months ago and through guile and assassination had co-opted the ‘Occupy Eugene’ gang. His organizational skills had turned the mob into a semi-disciplined army.
The local biker gang had been the first victim of Chairman Z. The bikers were cornered in Creswell and sought a truce to discuss terms of an alliance. Assuming that one criminal gang could find common ground to work with a rival gang, the bikers felt that they could reach a compromise.
Chairman Z compromised right up to the point of machine gunning them to death as they emerged from their strongpoint. Other gangs soon fell under Chairman Z’s control. Regular people still surviving in pockets were soon overwhelmed. Chairman Z’s forces cleaned out all the nearby holdouts and absorbed any food and weapons into their organization. Warlordism had arrived in the Willamette Valley.
As the winter approached, Chairman Z realized that the Eugene area had been picked clean. What crops had been growing had been harvested, but unfortunately the main crop in the valley had been grass seed. Edible crops had been a minority.
One of the strengths of Chairman Z’s command was his working shortwave radio. He had shown up pulling a farm cart with an antique radio stowed in it. Now he was in contact with other areas, keeping these contacts secret so only he knew any vital information, except for one person who was his confidant. She only went by the name ‘the chairwoman’. No one knew her by any other name. After one person who had asked a personal question met a quick death, no one ever asked again.
But Chairman Z and ‘the chairwoman’ were obviously close. And that closeness people soon learned could be dangerous, as ‘the chairwoman’ was especially to be avoided. Her bursts of violence were even more savage than Chairman Z’s. Between the two of them, there was an ongoing argument among their followers as to which one was more dangerous.
“I’ve gotten word of supplies to the north of us. We need to gather up as much gear and food as we can. We’ll take the vehicles we have running. Tomorrow we will head toward Salem. We’ll see if there’s anything left in between,” Chairman Z announced.
“How far do we have to go?” a soldier in the army asked.
‘The chairwoman’ descended on him in an instant. Others who had been standing beside the questioner moved quickly away. A knife flashed against the man’s neck.
“You don’t question orders. Your life is slime. I should kill you as you stand,” ‘the chairwoman’ hissed.
“Stop. Let him live. He fought well at Creswell and for that he may live another day. But make no mistake, any repeat of such behavior will be dealt with immediately.”
“Yes, Chairman Z. I understand. Your orders will be carried out,” the man sheepishly said.
The next day, over three thousand ‘Occupy Eugene’ fighters and their followers gathered to leave. There weren’t enough vehicles for everyone to ride, so many had bicycles for the trek north. All were armed.
Some of the vehicles were stolen Oregon National Guard armored cars from the local barracks. They added considerable fire power to the criminal army. No tanks had been appropriated but the machine guns of the armored vehicles would carry the day against anything they would encounter.
The trip to Salem took two days, but news of their impending arrival had hit earlier. The local gang as well as the local people still alive all headed either east or west. None wanted to stay to defend what little they had.
The ‘Occupy Eugene’ Army marched into Salem to empty buildings. Everything that was worth something had been spirited away for safe keeping. Chairman Z ordered his troops further north.
The area between Salem and Portland was productive farm country. Chairman Z ordered his forces to spread out. Like a herd of locusts they cleaned the valley of anything of value. What wasn’t removed was consumed.
Reaching Portland, the ‘Occupy Eugene’ units had a brief firefight with the ‘Occupy Portland’ crowd. Portland’s forces were less organized and felt the sting of a better commanded army. Heavy casualties resulted as ‘Occupy Eugene’ took control of Oregon’s largest city.
At least it had been the largest city once. Now, the 90% fatality rate predicted by the EMP Commission was evident. Chairman Z’s units scoured the city in vain for supplies.
“There’s nothing left here. You’ve marched us one hundred miles to starve here,” a unit commander shouted. Such insubordination could mean death. But by the grumbling of the men, this was a common feeling. Chairman Z had to be careful. Fear was only part of command. If fear of death by starvation overcame their fear of him, Chairman Z knew he would be in trouble.
“Do you think I know nothing? This is not our final goal,” Chairman Z shouted. “I knew Portland would be picked over. We head north still. We will find plenty of supplies there.”
The unit commander again pressed his resistance. “This is a wild goose chase. Chairman Z doesn’t know squat. We’re all going to starve.”
A shot rang out as one of Chairman Z’s bodyguards put a 9mm round into the protesting commander’s head. He crumpled to the ground. Other men with the bodyguard unit were strategically placed around the milling crowd of concerned troops.
“Now, anyone else want to complain about my command? Speak up,” Chairman Z yelled in defiance. He knew he had to assert himself or die trying. The crowd would cower with his armed guards standing by, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to turn his back on his men.
At least not until they arrived at their destination and the supplies he had promised materialized. Chairman Z knew that his life depended on trusting the information that he heard over the shortwave radio.
“All right tough guys. You’ve had your gripe session. Now return to your troops and get them moving north,” ‘the chairwoman’ commanded. She shoved the two men in front of her and they quickly retreated from her wrath. The group broke up and headed to their troops.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure whether they were going to turn on me or not.” Chairman Z whispered to ‘the chairwoman’. He leaned in close to her and felt the hot breath of a psychotic killer on his cheek. He knew he could only trust his ‘Number 2’ so far. Any sign of weakness and she would turn on him.
“You had better be right about Seattle. Let’s hope there is food there or you’ll be the main course, and I’ll be the first in line,” ‘the chairwoman’ hissed.
Chairman Z knew she would follow through with the not-so-subtle threat. They better show up, he thought.
Chapter 12
Cheyenne, Wyoming
The November wind blasted down from Canada as the American States Security Compact (ASSC) gathered in the Cheyenne Convention Center. Electrical power had been flowing fairly consistently for two months now. That was at least true in the original six states that had been prepared the longest for the CME event. The other fifteen states were in varying stages of being back on line.
Texas seemed to be having the most difficult time getting back to normal. With
its large urban population, it had seen the largest disruption as millions of urban dwellers flooded into the countryside to seek relief from starvation and the violent mobs. And to complicate matters, thousands of Mexicans had headed north when the lights went out in an effort to grab the riches they knew were now unprotected.
The more rural states had advanced the furthest in returning their power grid to functionality. No state was 100% yet, but at least the basic services of life were being provided.
Phone service had been restored on a very limited basis. Most personal phones were destroyed in the Pulse. The states themselves had installed hardened phone service so that communication within each state with its local governments was established.
With phone service possible, the railroads started moving again, using the electronically hardened engines the states had required years ago. But traffic was limited to one train per section since the railroad computer control system had been cooked beyond repair by the sun’s supercharged electrical pulse.
Train control was maintained by humans on phones as it had been done in the early 20th century. Once a train had cleared one section, a phone call confirmed the line was clear and a new train was sent through. It was a slow process, but goods were being shipped around the twenty states to keep people supplied with the basics.
Passenger cars had been added so that limited travel was possible by individuals that had to move around the ASSC area. With no plane traffic and limited vehicle traffic, train travel again became the only viable option. The 1890s were reasserting themselves.
Trains operating meant fuel and food were being distributed to areas in need, as food centers were set up at each local school. Citizens in need of something to eat were assigned a state ID and a school to report to for meals. Two meals a day kept the population alive.
With only the basic foods provided, no one got fat. Gone were the Cokes and Big Macs that had contributed to America’s obesity epidemic. Limited calories provided at the feeding centers meant people were losing weight. Added to that was the fact that everyone now walked or rode a bike, making the side effects of ‘the Pulse’ actually positive in a perverse way.
With the situation stabilized, the governors had decided to meet to discuss their future. Along with the ASSC states, other governments had been invited that had been supportive of their effort.
“I know you have your full report to present, but have you prepared a response to the issues we talked about?” Idaho’s governor asked.
“Governor, we’re ready. I believe we have all the naysayers arguments covered,” Paul said.
“I hope so. Texas has their fellow Southern supporters hopping up and down over some of the policies outlined in our preliminary report,” the governor said.
He referred to the meeting of the original six states two weeks after P-Day. Paul had presented the work that the Idaho School of Economics (ISE) had been working on for the past five years.
The directive of the school’s main benefactor had been to set up a school for the study of the issues that would be involved when a bankrupt United States finally collapsed. As its first and only director, Paul’s mission had been to study possible causes of America’s collapse and then design a government that would avoid such pitfalls in the future. Now his work was being considered by the ASSC.
But there was resistance. Many wanted to just move on with things as if nothing had happened. Their attitude was to fix the electrical grid and its associated parts and get back to normal.
“If we can all sit down, we can get the meeting started,” the Montana governor said to his counterparts. Montana, as one of the original states in the group, had been elected to chair the meeting. The delegates all took their seats around a large square table. The official member states each had three seats at the table.
The observer states sat in a second row of chairs. The governor continued, “We’ve called the roll and all are present. I would also acknowledge representatives from North Carolina, Arizona, Virginia, West Virginia, Nevada, Ohio, Indiana, Oregon, and California. And we welcome our friends from up north; Alberta, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan.”
“Can we complain to the Canucks about the dismal weather they’re sending us?” the Alabama governor said.
“Later. I’m sure they’re wondering about their choice of friends right now also. I think we can be a little more polite to our Canadian partners. They’re in this with us and have been very helpful in making sure gas supplies got flowing quickly,” Montana’s governor said.
Sitting next to the Idaho governor, Paul winced at Alabama’s seeming lack of political tack. He wasn’t sure if this mix of personalities would work. He had read accounts of the first Constitutional Convention and the animosity that had been generated between divergent interests.
“I’d ask Dr. Kendall to present the first report,” Montana’s governor said, “but before we hear from him, I want to emphasize why we’re here. Our so-called leaders in Washington D.C. were well on their way to driving this country into the ground before we were knocked flat by the sun. I think we all know it was only a matter of a few short years before investors would have stopped purchasing U.S. Treasuries. And when that happened, we would have been out of business.”
The South Carolina governor chimed in, “Hell, those investors did stop buying U.S. Securities. The Federal Reserve had to monetize the debt the last few years.”
The Missouri governor broke in, “Those damn fools were only concerned about their next election. When half the Federal budget was borrowed money, the shell game could only last so long. The can you keep kicking down the road eventually hits a wall.”
“Exactly. And our wall came in the form of an electromagnetic pulse from space,” Montana’s governor said. “So we as a group need to determine if we try to resuscitate the dead pig in our yard, or start fresh with a new government.”
There was a hush following those words. The issue was finally thrown on the table. While many of the member states knew the advantages of changing things, old traditions remained important. Especially to the former Confederate States present.
“You know, we tried that route once. It didn’t work out so well for us,” the Alabama governor said.
“But not for want of trying,” the Georgia governor added. “I’ll remind everyone that my state was at the forefront of the founding of this country and compromised much with northern interests to make a united country. Many in my state at that time wished to avoid any connection with the North. Those concerns were brought home when they finally decided to leave in 1861.”
The South Carolina governor joined in, “Damn right. We were the first to say that Washington, D.C. didn’t represent us anymore, and all we got was Yankees burning our farms and starving our people in return. If we are serious about this issue, this is the time to address it.”
“Gentlemen, we are not here to refight the Civil War,” the Montana governor said.
“War of Southern Independence!” Mississippi’s governor yelled.
“I stand corrected. Excuse me for my impertinence,” Montana’s governor offered.
The frustration showed. Paul noticed the Canadian representatives talking quietly among themselves. He was confident that they were discussing whether they had made a mistake teaming up with this bunch. Something had better happen soon, or the meeting would collapse in disarray.
“Fellow delegates,” Idaho’s governor injected forcefully. “There is much history between everyone in this room. I’m sure our Canadian friends could point out that the United States invaded their country multiple times. We should recognize our past right now, but more importantly, we have a future to consider. I suggest we attend to the business of securing a future for the citizens we represent. If Dr. Kendall is ready, we need to hear from him.”
The delegates simmered down as Paul stood up and walked to the head of the table. Large flip charts were moved up by the staff for use in the discussion. Computer presentations were a thing of the
past.
“Thank you. As you’ve all received my report from the first meeting, I’ll cover the highlights.”
The entrance door suddenly opened and the security guard from outside stepped in. The meeting stopped as they all looked in the direction of the disturbance.
“Excuse me, but a General Gale is outside and he says it’s urgent,” the guard said.
The Montana governor motioned to admit the general. General Gale had traveled with the other Idaho delegates to attend a separate meeting being held by the military commanders of each state. They were to discuss security within the ASSC and the adjoining areas.
“Governors, distinguished guests. I bring you news that has just been relayed from our shortwave network. As you know, we have radio operators in different parts of the country and the world reporting on conditions in their area,” Ed said. “At great risk to themselves, they have remained in some of the hardest hit cities. We have just heard from one of those operators stationed in the Bay Area.”
“General, before you tell us, are we confident of this operator’s information?” the Montana governor asked.
“Governor, we don’t have a way to confirm these reports, but other information received from this operator in the past has eventually been confirmed by other radio operators,” Ed answered.
“Good to know. Is this information suitable for all those present or should we only have the member delegates present?” Montana’s governor enquired.
“Everyone needs to hear this.” Ed was emphatic in his answer. The room grew tense in anticipation.
“Then please proceed, General Gale.”
“We have received information that Chinese troops and support personnel are landing in San Francisco. Five large container ships have docked and are unloading food along with military vehicles,” Ed said.
