by RH Fox
“Katy, can you keep an eye on my class for a few minutes? I need to run out to my van.”
“Sure! Can you swing by my room and grab my water bottle on your way back? It’s getting hot out here!”
“Yeah,” Dreia said distractedly and hurried toward the building mumbling to herself about coincidences.
She detoured by her classroom for keys, then jogged out to her minivan with her children’s faces on looping repeat through her mind. Having once sworn never to drive a mom-mobile, practicality had trumped vanity when the kids started getting involved in activities. For the last five years she’d carted sports equipment and kids from place to place, keeping her love for the big dual sliding doors her dirty little secret. Right now she’d give anything for her children to be sitting behind them instead of forty miles away.
Her clicker battery had been dead for months, and she kept forgetting to pick up a new one. So she unlocked the door manually. After climbing into the driver’s seat, she hesitated. A deluge of emotions had her hand shake a bit, and the key clanked quietly against the ignition. She closed her eyes for a moment. Every mile between her and her children seemed to expand until she almost couldn’t breathe.
What if. . . ?
The thought of being forced to use what she’d spent years learning and gathering shot a rush of adrenaline through her body. The reality of what it would mean petrified her, and she gave the key a hard turn to end the ominous suspense.
Nothing happened.
No warning lights came on, no beeping or annoying grinding sounds issued from an engine giving its best effort to turn over. The silence thundered in her ears.
Dreia didn’t bother trying again and climbed out of her van. Shaky legs carried her around the corner of the school to the street. It was completely still. Blackburn Elementary was tucked back into a quiet neighborhood, but it was rare for there to be no traffic at all. Standing motionless and holding her breath without realizing it, Dreia closed her eyes again and concentrated on listening. The only noise came from the playground. She strained harder and visualized the much busier streets a few blocks outside the neighborhood, listening for any proof traffic was still moving. There was none.
Dreia released her breath and opened her eyes. Her first instinct was to grab the get-home bag she kept in her van and start walking. Abbie and Chase filled her mind and the desire to immediately head toward them was powerful. She took two steps toward her van before the noise from the playground stopped her. A surge of protective responsibility overcame her as the faces of her students flashed through her mind as well. Uncertainty held her frozen to the spot as her mother’s heart warred with her teacher’s. They were so intricately linked, it was impossible to separate them.
Finally, Dreia gave in and ran around the front of the building. She didn’t slow down upon entering, despite students in the hall giving her disapproving looks, and beelined straight to the front office.
“Where’s Rena?” she practically yelled, out of breath.
The school secretary looked up, startled by the abrupt interruption.
“I think she’s . . .” Beth started.
Her voice trailed off as Dreia moved past her and barged into the principal’s office without knocking. Rena Fostich looked up in surprise, her cell phone dangling from her hand.
“Grab your car keys and come with me,” Dreia ordered.
“Excuse me?” Rena asked, eyebrows raised.
“I need to show you something. Come on.”
Dreia spotted a purse on the bookshelf in the corner and barely stopping herself from digging through it herself. She handed it to Rena instead and took a few breaths, before continuing in a calmer voice.
“Humor me. I need you to see this yourself.”
Rena hesitated, but finally pulled the keys out and followed Dreia to the parking lot. When they stopped next to her car she began pressing the clicker to no avail.
“Just manually unlock it and try to start it,” Dreia said impatiently.
Rena climbed in and turned the key, but as Dreia suspected, the engine remained silent.
“What the . . . I just got a brand new battery last week!”
“Come here!” Dreia turned away and headed back to her van. She slid into the driver’s seat and waited for Rena to catch up, then made a show of turning her own key several times.
“Alright. You have my full attention. What’s going on?” Rena asked, not one to beat around the bush. Her calm demeanor and direct nature were just a few of the qualities that made her an outstanding principal.
“It would be better if I could tell everyone at once, rather than over and over again each time a new person finds out,” Dreia replied, her mind already putting together a plan of action. “I’m going to run back out to the playground and get some of the others. Have Beth help you gather all the adults who aren’t with students, and let’s meet in the conference room. Wait, the conference room doesn’t have any windows. Make it the library instead.”
Rena grabbed Dreia’s arm before she could sprint away again, concerned about what could make one of her most level-headed teachers so anxious. “Seriousness, on a scale of one to ten?”
Dreia locked eyes with her to respond. “Twenty.”
Rena’s mouth went dry. She nodded once and headed back to the office at a brisk clip.
2
Fifteen minutes later, Dreia stood in a room filled with her colleagues. She’d managed to prioritize where her immediate focus needed to be and tucked the worry for her own children away for the time being. Besides Rena and the six teachers that could be spared from playground duty, the group included the head custodian, all five resource teachers, both secretaries, three teacher’s assistants, the school nurse, and the vice-principal. Being abruptly rounded up in the middle of the school day cast a feeling of apprehension over everyone.
“We’re all here now. What in the world is going on?” the art teacher called out.
Rena nodded for Dreia to start, which caused some whispers. Like most teachers, she much preferred being in front of students rather than other adults and never volunteered to speak at meetings.
Dreia took a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy, but I promise you I’m being absolutely serious. I’m sure everyone’s noticed by now that the electricity isn’t the only thing out, that your cell phones won’t turn on either.”
Everyone nodded, and many were surprised to see others agreeing. Dreia decided that being blunt was going to be the most efficient approach to what she was about to drop on them.
“Has anyone ever heard of an EMP before?” She looked around the room where faces remained blank. However, she could tell a few recognized the term by their widening eyes, even before a couple hands slowly went up.
“Aren’t they the people who drive ambulances?” one of the younger teacher’s assistants asked, looking around for corroboration.
“Those are EMTs,” the school nurse replied. Her condescending tone earned her dirty looks from the other two teacher’s assistants.
Dreia cleared her throat before continuing, “EMPs are a type of attack. Not a lot of people have heard of them, but our government’s known about the possibility for years. Unfortunately, not much has been done to safeguard our nation’s resources against one, and I believe that’s why the power’s out.”
Noise erupted in the room.
“People!” Rena’s authoritative voice rang out. “Let Dreia talk, please. We have students to think about.”
That got everyone’s attention, and they turned back toward the front. Many looked extremely dubious.
“I’m only making a guess at this point, but it’s an educated one. EMP is an acronym for electromagnetic pulse, and experts have repeatedly warned that a nuclear blast in the atmosphere could cause one. Scientists have tested the theory and found that the resulting energy pulse disturbs the Earth’s magnetic field. There’s been speculation for years now that a large one could send a str
ong enough pulse to knock out massive portions of our power grid. Some have also suggested it could affect things that are heavily reliant on electronic components, even if they aren’t plugged in at the time of the pulse. This becomes extremely concerning when you think about how much we rely on electricity now, including things we often don’t associate with electricity. Like most of our cars now.”
“Wait. Are you saying our cars don’t work either?” Linda, the vice principal, looked alarmed.
“Give me a break!” the PE coach called out. “I’ve never heard such absurd, conspiracy theory, BS. If you believe it, then I’ve got a deal for you on some oceanfront property in Arizona.”
Several people snickered, wondering if it was just an elaborate joke after all.
“Then why won’t my car start, Sam?” Dreia asked. Her dead serious expression quieted the room.
“Probably a dead battery,” he smirked. “Responsible adults usually keep an eye on their car’s indicator lights, Dreia.”
“Does that explain why my car won’t start?” Rena asked in a chilly tone.
Sam’s smirk fell away, quickly replaced with an irritated scowl. “All I’m saying is that the idea someone pulled off an attack on the United States of America is ridiculous. We’ve been on high alert for that kind of thing since 9/11.” Sam stood and walked to the door, pausing there to look around. “I don’t have time to listen to this when I could be prepping for my next class. Are the rest of you really going to sit here and waste your time on this nonsense?”
Lots of people shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but no one joined Sam at the door. For those who weren’t sure what to believe yet, the fact that Rena was backing Dreia spoke volumes.
“Suit yourselves,” Sam said irritably, letting the door slam shut as he walked out.
Dreia didn’t paused before continuing, “Look, I know what I’m telling you sounds like the plot of a sci-fi movie, but there’s no other explanation for the power being out, all our phones dying at the same time and cars not starting. And, I’ll be honest with you, I almost started walking home as soon as I realized what had happened. Instead, I’m standing here, sounding like a fool I’m sure, hoping to convince at least some of you that we need to act fast.” She stopped and looked around for some indication that she’d made the right call.
The head janitor spoke up tentatively, “I watched a tv show recently that claimed the sun could cause problems like this. It talked about something that happened to the telegraph lines back in the 1800’s.”
“That was the Carrington Event, Steve. I’ve read a little bit about solar ejections, too, but scientists don’t think vehicles would be affected in that type of scenario. EMP’s have more destructive power and in theory could reach a wider array of electronics,” Dreia answered.
“What about things that takes batteries?” another teacher called out.
“I’m not sure. The consensus seems to be that it depends on how high in the atmosphere the bomb detonates and how close you are to ground zero. What we know so far is that our phones and cars are dead, but in my opinion that’s not really surprising since they’re made of so many electrical parts. Has anyone used something that takes batteries since the lights went out?”
“I used a flashlight in the utility room to check the fuses. I keep one in my toolbox,” Steve answered.
“Okay then, it’s possible that some battery-operated devices still work. That, or Steve’s toolbox acted as a Faraday cage.”
“A what?” the nurse asked.
“A Faraday cage. It’s a metal container believed to protect electronics from an EMP. There are ways to make homemade ones. Steve’s toolbox may have provided that protective barrier purely by accident. Especially if it and the flashlight were both metal.” Dreia looked at Steve, who nodded. She sighed, “Look, I’m not an expert on any of this. I’ve done a lot of reading about EMPs, but I really don’t know all the answers.”
Dreia looked around the room to see how everyone was responding before she continued.
“Right now, people everywhere are sitting at work, or home, thinking this is only a power outage. I don’t think it’ll take long before they figure out it’s something worse, though, especially when they realize their cars won’t start. EMP scenarios have become popular fiction the last few years, leading to more exposure for the subject.”
“Exactly, fiction,” someone called out. “It really does seem farfetched like Sam said.”
“Most fiction has roots in truth,” the librarian interjected sagely.
When several people nodded in agreement, Dreia went on. “I’m sure there’s others just like me, who have some knowledge of EMPs, trying to explain it to their coworkers and families as I speak. Now, a lot of people will hunker down and wait for help to arrive. They expect someone, like the police, military, or government, to step in and fix everything. They’re not the people we need to worry about right now. The first danger’s going to come from troublemakers who realize the police don’t have any mobility. With that being said, we need to get our students home, and in turn get home to our own families, as soon as possible.”
When it was clear Dreia was finished talking, everyone looking around the room to gauge each other’s reactions. Finally, Linda stood up and they all focused on the vice principal.
“You specifically said, ‘the first danger’. What comes next?”
Dreia hesitated when all eyes swung back to her. She was afraid the entire truth at once would cause some to scoff and walk out like Sam had. Right now, she needed their trust and cooperation. The safety of six hundred students depended on it. On the other hand, she’d become friends with many of these people in the last four years. Not only did they deserve the whole truth, she was confident most of them would remain calm and focused on the students. Because that’s what teachers did.
Taking a deep breath, she made eye contact with each person in the room as she answered. “The biggest danger will be when the millions of people waiting for help realize that none is coming. If this really was an EMP, the power loss is not temporary. I’m talking no electricity, no food deliveries to grocery stores, no gasoline shipments for cars or generators that might still work, no running water . . . no medication production. For a long time.”
Dreia let that sink in. The citizens of the United States had just been sent back a century and were nowhere near capable of surviving the way their ancestors once had. She could only imagine what was going through the heads of those who’d never thought twice about their dependency on collective society for survival. You could hear a pin drop.
While the others processed the terrifying implications of what was unfolding, Dreia wondered if her husband had found her note in his emergency bag yet. Matt had half-heartedly agreed he needed the bag, since he worked in the city too, but he was nowhere near as conscientious about keeping it in his vehicle as she was hers. His former Marine Corps mindset was that if an emergency happened he could handle things as they came, instead of worrying about planning ahead. She hadn’t double-checked his bag in a while and prayed he hadn’t left it lying in the garage again, which he was prone to doing when he cleaned out his truck.
Allowing her thoughts to turn to her kids, Dreia fervently hoped they’d listened to at least some of the instructions she’d tried to give them over the years and immediately headed home as soon as it became clear it wasn’t a normal power outage. With each beat, her mother’s heart commanded ‘get home, get home, get home’. Feeling torn again, between a mother’s instinct and responsibility toward her students, she forced her attention back to the people in front of her.
Some of her colleagues were murmuring to each other in worried voices. Others were simply sitting motionless in appalled silence. Dreia came to the chilling realization that she was the most knowledgeable person at the school right now, and if she didn’t do something, six hundred kids would be left stranded and scared for who knows how long. It was time to jolt her colleagues into action, so she coul
d go home to her own children knowing she’d done the right thing.
“I know everything I’ve told you is scary and overwhelming, but our students are counting on us to keep them safe and reunite them with their families before we go home to ours. I think I have a plan for how to get it done.”
Everyone turned back to Dreia expectantly and she took a deep breath before laying out her idea.
3
After Dreia explained the first stage of her plan, everyone scattered to set it in motion. The teachers still on the playground were filled in, though it took several minutes to convince them it wasn’t a hoax. All the classroom teachers were tasked with delivering their classes to the cafeteria once the students were prepared for dismissal, where the music teacher would lead a sing-along. Several of the teacher’s aids would stay with the students as well, to supervise behavior. Meanwhile, the rest of the staff would undertake the colossal task of organizing the safe delivery of six hundred students to their homes with no working buses.
Back in her own classroom, Dreia paced up and down the row of hooks on the wall helping students make sure they put everything in their backpacks.
“Samantha, go get your school box please. Blake, your jacket’s still on your chair,” she reminded.
“Mrs. Bennett, why are we taking our school boxes and reading books home? You never let us take them home,” Bayley pointed out.
“This is a special occasion, kind of like a holiday,” she explained. “I want you to have something to read while the lights are out.”
“How are we going to read with the lights out?” Samantha asked innocently.
“I’m sure your parents have candles. You can pretend you lived long ago, like we studied at Thanksgiving,” Dreia patiently explained.
“Do we have to bring them back?” Marky piped up.
Dreia carefully considered how to answer that. The last thing she wanted to do was scare the kids. Telling them the lights may never come back on would definitely cause uncertainty and fear.
