Broken Lines Omnibus: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

by James Hunt

  Mitch’s arms fell to his side, deflated.

  “What do you mean?” Ben asked.

  “The man I identified just now had nothing to do with the EMP attack, or the coup to overthrow the government,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  “Then why would he confess? Why would he turn himself in and say he did all of these things that he had nothing to do with?” Ben asked.

  “Penance I suppose.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “To help him, as he helped me.”

  “Do you have any proof? Anything that can back up what you’re telling me? Because you’re going to have to give us something to overturn the written confession we have.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t, but if you could just let me speak to him, have a few minutes alone—”

  “Oh, no,” Mitch said. “There’s no way in hell you’re seeing our guy alone.”

  The blinds to the waiting room were closed, blocking them from the rest of the office. Ben could still hear the bustle of people outside, their voices talking about the weekend, what they were going to do that night.

  All of it was still pretty surreal to him. He couldn’t imagine what some of the people in this very office did to stay alive during the outage. The worst of human nature seemed to turn on when the power went off.

  Whatever really happened between people during the blackout was between them. He knew that most cases would get thrown out, because there just wasn’t enough evidence.

  Ben had to pull something tangible out of this mayhem. He needed to prove to himself and the rest of the country that what people did wasn’t okay. He wanted to show that the line of right and wrong was a very clear one, and those that tried to cross it would be brought to justice.

  “There might be one piece of evidence that I could give you, but I’m not sure if it still exists,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “I kept a journal, detailing the plans of the attack and the rebuilding process we wanted to go through.”

  “Who has it?”

  Dr. Wyatt looked back through the one-way glass at the suspect, standing alone in the room.

  “Mike Grant,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Day 21 (Cincinnati)

  The vibrations from the bike made Mike think his still-healing ribs would crack back in half.

  After they passed through Carrollton he found himself struggling not to turn around. Fay wasn’t outside when they drove through. He even made a point to slow down, scanning every piece of sidewalk up and down the street, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  A shot of guilt ran through him, but it was only for a moment. Once it passed it felt as though it had never happened at all.

  Mike led the caravan of vintage Harleys and the Jeep. Sam, Nelson, and Kalen were on their own motorcycles, while Anne, Katie, Sam, Sean, Mary, Nancy, and Erin were packed in the Jeep along with whatever supplies and weapons they could fit with them.

  Mike’s hands felt as if they had pieces of steel wedged into them, and each time he tried bending them the steel would crack. He had to pull over a few times, turning the four-hour drive into six hours.

  Most of the time when he pulled over he would say it was for bathroom breaks, but Anne knew what was happening. She gave him some pain reliever between stops. Everyone else just figured it was for his injuries. No one knew about his hands except Anne.

  The abandoned cars became more frequent the closer they moved to the city. When Mike saw the massive green signs telling them Cincinnati was ten miles out, Mike pulled everyone over.

  He took a few seconds on the bike, focusing on stopping his hands from trembling before he approached the group.

  Nelson walked with a slight waddle after getting off the bike. Katie laughed at him.

  “Hey, I’ve been on that thing for almost six hours. Cut me some slack,” Nelson said.

  “How is everyone on fuel?” Mike asked.

  “Jeep’s looking okay. We have about a quarter tank,” Anne said.

  “I’m running low,” Sam said.

  “Me too,” Kalen replied.

  “Same,” Nelson answered.

  “I don’t have much left either,” Mike said. “We should still have enough to make it into the city, but if things go bad I want Kalen to jump in the Jeep with Sam, and you guys head as fast and far as you can in the opposite direction. Nelson and I will hang back, try and buy you all some time.”

  “Whoa, what?” Katie asked.

  “As much as we all want to believe this is the real deal I want us to have an escape plan if things go south,” Mike answered.

  “But the radio signals. They kept coming in. This place wouldn’t keep sending them if it wasn’t safe, right?” Nelson asked.

  “Hopefully, but we won’t be the only ones that came across the signal, and we won’t be the only ones who have wandered into Cincinnati,” Mike said. “Everyone keep your eyes open.”

  Mike climbed back onto the Harley. The seat was a hard composite and the metal grips didn’t offer much comfort for his hands. In another time he would have loved to have a bike like this. He remembered when he was younger watching “Easy Rider” how much he wanted to ride across the country, going on adventures. Now, all he wanted to do was dump the bike he was riding in a scrap heap and watch it burn.

  The group turned off onto the first exit they saw for Cincinnati and made their way into the city’s streets.

  Most of it was what Mike had expected. Storefront windows were smashed. Trash was everywhere. The road was so cluttered with cars Anne had to take the Jeep onto the sidewalk for a bit.

  There was something off about the way the cars were left in the street. They were abandoned after the EMP blast, which he was sure of, but the cars seemed too organized. It was as though they were roadblocks.

  Mike glanced down a few side streets on their way and could see that every road heading toward the center of the city had similar clusters of cars, but the crossroads were completely clear.

  There also weren’t any signs of people. They’d been riding for almost ten minutes and Mike hadn’t seen a single soul. The deeper they went into the city the less disheveled it appeared to be.

  Then Sam caught Mike’s attention, pulling up right next to him and gesturing up to some of the windows in buildings above them.

  It took Mike a minute to see them because they were fairly well hidden, but he noticed the slight movement in the windows.

  Men with rifles were stationed in different buildings on the fifth floor, keeping a bead on them.

  The road finally cleared out and just before Mike could accelerate four armored trucks converged around them, blocking any escape.

  Soldiers got out of the vehicles with their guns pointed at Mike and the rest of his group. They moved in close. Mike put his hands in the air. The rest of the group followed suit.

  One by one, the soldiers removed everyone’s weapons. They were forced to get out of the Jeep and line up on the sidewalk, keeping their hands behind their heads.

  One of the soldiers pulled Mike aside and patted him down.

  “How’d you find us?” the soldier asked.

  “We heard your message over the radio,” Mike said.

  The soldiers piled the guns and supplies they found in the Jeep into one of their trucks.

  “I’ll want those back,” Mike said.

  “Where’d you get the vehicles?” the soldier asked.

  Mike didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to play twenty questions with someone who just had a gun to his head.

  “What is this place?” Mike asked.

  The soldier flashed a smile.

  “Shelter from the storm,” he said. “We’ll collect your vehicles and any rations you have. All of your personal effects will be returned to you after the interview process.”

  “Interview?” Mike asked.

  “Just to make sure you’re… safe,” the soldier said.

  One of the armored trucks stayed with Mike’s gr
oup, and they were escorted deeper into the city. The longer they walked, the further Mike’s jaw dropped.

  People were driving around in cars. Every person Mike saw walking on the streets looked clean and healthy and had the attitude of someone heading to work.

  They finally stopped at a bank high-rise that was guarded by two soldiers. When the doors to the building opened the first thing Mike felt was the cool rush of air hitting his face as he walked through the entrance.

  “Oh my God,” Kalen said.

  All of the kids rushed to the large industrial fan sitting in the lobby, pushing each other out of the way, letting the air blow past their faces.

  Mike stared up at the ceiling bulbs illuminating the depths of the offices and down the winding hallways.

  “The power’s on for the entire building?” Mike asked.

  “We have everything functional in this building on the first floor except the A/C. We only have the capacity to run that at the hospital and living quarters. That’s why we have the industrial fans here,” the soldier answered.

  “The hospital is up and running? With doctors?” Nelson asked.

  “Yes.”

  Mike knew what everyone was thinking, because that’s where his mind went despite trying to block it out. The doctors here could have saved Jung’s wife.

  “The interviews will happen on a one-on-one basis. Every person will be evaluated and their value will be determined based on the interviewer’s assessment,” the soldier said.

  “Their value?” Nelson asked.

  “We have everyone keeping this place running based on their previous occupation. If you want to stay, you have to work. We don’t have the luxury to keep loafers,” the soldier explained.

  “And what happens to those people that aren’t useful?” Katie asked.

  “They don’t stay.”

  “What about kids?” Anne asked.

  “Their value is based on their potential. If the interviewer determines that they could be of use once they turn sixteen, then they stay.”

  Mike watched Freddy smiling in front of the fan. His hair was blown back, and then he moved out of the way to make room for Sean and Kalen. Freddy just wouldn’t stop giggling.

  The soldier led them down the hall of the first floor and sent them into separate rooms, with the exception of the kids, whom Anne insisted on having one of the adults stay with.

  The soldier brought Mike into a small office where a young man, barely into his twenties, sat behind a desk with a few sheets of paper. He gestured to the seat across from him.

  “Please,” the young man said.

  Mike pulled the chair out and sat down, keeping his hands in his lap under the cover of the desk.

  “My name is Paul,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Mike,” he answered, not accepting the handshake.

  Paul withdrew his hand, a sad smile spreading across his face. He leaned forward on the desk, attempting to draw Mike in.

  “I can imagine it’s been difficult out there. No power, no food, no water. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. The power is coming back on. We already have most of the city on our side. It’s just a matter of time before we take all of it back,” Paul said.

  “On your side?” Mike asked. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and we’ll see how it goes, okay? So, where are you from?”

  “Pittsburgh.”

  “Go Steelers!”

  Paul’s attempted enthusiasm didn’t change Mike’s expression. Paul brought his fist down from the air and rested his hand back on the table, returning to his list of questions.

  “What’s your birth date?”

  “January 12, 1971.”

  “Married?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “Twenty-five years.”

  “Has your spouse survived the blackout?”

  Mike paused before answering.

  “Yes.”

  Each time Mike responded Paul would jot down notes and mark little checks along the sheets in his hands. Mike tried getting a look at what Paul was writing, but the print was too small for him to see.

  “What was your occupation before the blackout?” Paul asked.

  “Welder.”

  “And how long were you in that occupation?”

  “Twenty-five years.”

  “You chose the girl, huh?

  “What?”

  “You said you’ve been married for twenty-five years, and you’ve been a welder for the same amount of time. Based on your birthday it sounds like you met your wife either in college or right after and then decided to stick around. You’re from Pittsburgh, so you grabbed the first good-paying, steady job you could find to support you and your new wife.”

  “How many of these questions do I have to answer?”

  Paul glanced down at his sheets of paper. He flipped through them, mouthing the numbers to himself.

  “Looks like we have quite a bit more to get through,” Paul said.

  “What is this for?”

  Paul set the pencil and clipboard on the desk. The pleasantry act dropped, and Mike saw the focus in Paul’s eyes drilling into him.

  “Do you know what this place is, Mike?” Paul asked.

  “No.”

  “This is a chance for us to start over. A place for this country to rebuild, make us great again. You’ve seen what it’s like out there. People are losing their minds. They’re starving, dying, and killing each other over cans of food. We can bring them back from that.”

  Paul picked the clipboard and pencil back up. He flipped back to the page where he left off and the smile returned to his face.

  “So, what have you been doing since the blackout?” Paul asked.

  ***

  The questions took over an hour. After they were done, Mike was shoved out the back door of the building and left in a fenced-in lot by himself.

  One by one, the rest of his group joined him. Kalen was the next person out, followed by Nelson, Sam, Anne, Freddy, Claire, Jung Jr., Mary, Erin, Nancy, and Katie.

  “That was different,” Nelson said.

  Freddy ran up to Mike and wrapped his arms around his legs. Mike patted the top of his head.

  “You okay, bud?” Mike asked.

  “I didn’t like it,” Freddy answered.

  “What happened in there?” Anne asked.

  “They kept asking questions about you guys. Where we lived, my birthday, what I liked to do for fun.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Nelson said.

  The rear door opened and a man they hadn’t seen before dressed in army fatigues entered. Judging by the way the men behind him were following, Mike guessed that he was someone important.

  “Who’s in charge?” he asked.

  Everyone’s eyes turned to Mike.

  “You’re with me. The rest of you will stay here.”

  The soldier’s men grabbed Mike and pulled him back into the building.

  Mike was dragged through the winding hallways, deeper into the building. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to remember his way out. The journey finally ended outside a small office door.

  One of the soldiers entered while the rest stayed with Mike in the hallway. Whoever was inside, Mike figured was important. The soldier stepped out and kept the door open.

  “The colonel will see you now.”

  “Colonel?” Mike asked.

  The office was completely empty with the exception of a desk, one filing cabinet, and a folded American flag in a case that sat on top of it. The colonel, clean cut and shaven, sat behind the desk. Mike could see the finely-pressed creases of the uniform.

  “Have a seat,” the colonel said, without looking up from his work on the desk. “I’ll be with you in a moment. You’re dismissed, Blake.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Blake saluted, turned on his heel, and closed the door when he left. There was only one other chair in the roo
m. Mike sat down and noticed the name “Col. Cadogan” embroidered on the front of his uniform. The colonel was scanning pages of a file.

  “Those our answers?” Mike asked.