by JEFF MOTES
I glance at my watch, it's 4:15. Then it hits me, no cars have passed by. I look around. Cars are stalled everywhere. People are milling about. I rush back for my phone, it's dead. Oh crap! It’s actually happened! Somebody has done it. Doesn't matter if it was the Russians, Chinese, or Islamic Terrorists, somebody has struck the U.S. with an EMP weapon. I wonder if the whole US has been hit or only the Eastern Seaboard. That will make a big difference in the long term, but for now, in this moment, it makes no difference to me. My truck is dead, as is every vehicle as far as I can see. Cell phones are dead. I look off the interstate at an intersection wondering if the electric grid is down. The traffic lights are out.
Over two hundred miles from home and dead in the water. I’ve been through this mental exercise before. It’s played through my mind many times. I’m not scared, but I am concerned. I scan the businesses on the side of the interstate. There, on the service road, is a bicycle shop. It’s a small business and not one of the megastores. The sign says, ‘Ralph’s Bike Shop.’ The door is open. Here is my chance. I have two hundred dollars in my billfold. That won't be enough for what I need. Opening the back door I reach under the back seat and open the metal box bolted to the floor. From within the box I pull out several anti-static Mylar bags. I open the first one. It has my old iPhone and a LED flashlight in it. I turn both on. Yes! They power up. No cell service though. The next bag has a Magellan GPS device with maps of Alabama already loaded. Yes! It works. Two more bags, these a little larger. From one, I pull out two Baofeng two-way radios and turn them on. Yes! They work. From the same bag I remove a night vision monocular (NVD), turn it on with the filter cap still on. Yes! It works. The last bag has some miscellaneous items, like a USB battery charger, and backup battery. I’ll check those items later. Those guys on the survival forums knew what they were talking about. The metal box worked like a Faraday cage and protected my devices.
Plus one for The Plan.
However, those items weren’t my main objective. I want a bike. At the bottom of the box, I pull out a Merchants Bank envelope with one thousand dollars in cash and a drawstring bag with four ¼ oz. gold eagles and twenty 1 oz. silver eagles. This is something I always load up when going out of town. Putting the money and coins in my pocket, I lock and close the door. My Glock 19 is in my waistband. From the console, I get an extra magazine and put it in my left front pocket. I lock the door the old fashioned way, by inserting the key and turning it. At the moment, everything seems calm and I see no threats. Now off to the bike store.
Ralph’s Bike Shop is right across from my truck on the service road. The exit ramp must be at least a half mile away. A half mile to the ramp, another quarter mile down the ramp, then whatever distance it is to the service road and then to the bike shop–over a mile. I think I’ll climb the fence and cross the ditch. If I get the bike, I won’t be able to come back this way. But if I get the bike it won’t matter about the extra mile. I walk to the fence and consider the best way to cross without breaking a leg or spraining an ankle. That would be bad. I carefully climb the fence and am on the ground on the other side in only a few minutes. I glance back at my truck, wondering if I should have brought my pack. It has been less than an hour since the EMP and people probably won’t be getting desperate for a day or two, so the pack and other items in the truck are probably safe for the time being. At least I hope so.
I cross the ditch, noticing some people watching. They don’t appear to be a threat, so I continue to the bike shop. When I walk in the clerk announces, “The power is out and our computers are down.”
“I’ll be paying in cash.”
“Cash? All right, come right in. My name is Ralph. I’m the proprietor of this here business. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a quality cross country bike and a trailer.”
“I’ve got several options for you,” Ralph says. “If you’re wanting quality, then I suggest this bike here. It’s made of lightweight titanium, has adjustable suspension, quick release tire clamps, and 18 speeds.”
I notice the price tag—$395. Wow! “Okay. How about a trailer?”
I follow him over to a row of trailers.
“This one would work well, made of the same material and spring shocks. It also has a nylon top to help keep things dry.”
I glance at its price tag—$225. Wow, again. Although normally I would do a lot of research before making this kind of purchase, that’s not an option now. “I’ll take both,” I say. “I’ll also need an air pump, a couple of tire repair kits, a water bottle attachment and water bottle, and a chain lock.”
“I’ve got all that.” Ralph gathers the items together and walks to the counter. He starts writing my ticket and adds the cost. The total comes to $720. “Since, you’re paying cash,” Ralph says, “let’s call it $700 and no tax.”
I pull out the envelope and pay him $700.
After finishing at the counter, Ralph helps me get things situated on the bike. We mount the pump and water bottle. After some small talk, I head for the door with the bike complete and trailer attached.
“I wonder what knocked the power out and how long it’ll be out?” Ralph says.
“I’m not sure,” I say, “but I think we’ve been hit with an EMP weapon. I don’t think the power will be back on for a very long time.”
Ralph shakes his head. “Whatever you say, but it’ll be back on in an hour or so is my guess. Probably lost a major transformer somewhere.”
Not wanting to get into a debate about it, I respond, “You might be right.”
Getting on the bike I head to the road. When I reach it, I stop and consider things. It’s too late to get through town and into the country before dark and I don’t want to be traveling after dark, at least not yet. I’m going to have to pedal the long way around. Should I spend the night in the truck? How secure is that going to be with people walking the interstate during the night? What if someone comes looking for things in vehicles while I’m sleeping in the truck? I don’t want that encounter. Further down the service road I see a Drury Inn and a Hampton Inn and, right in between them, an old Family Inns of America. I turn down the road to the motels and pull into the Family Inn parking lot.
The door is open to the small lobby. I chain the bike to a steel pole and walk in. There is a Pakistani man behind the counter.
“The power is off and our computers are down,” he says.
“That’s not a problem,” I reply. “I have cash and only need a room for one night.”
“Okay, it’s $75 plus tax,” The clerk says. He puts a sheet of paper on the counter and a pen. The wheels begin turning in his head. He glances at the camera on the wall, the blank video display, and then the dead computer. “Cash?”
I show him some money. He pulls the paper off the counter and says, “$75 please.”
I pay him and ask for a ground floor room. He hands me a key to room 114. As I walk out, he puts the money in his pocket.
After unchaining the bike and stowing the chain, I pedal back up the service road to the off ramp. There are quite a few people walking now, all of them coming down the off ramp, while I’m riding up the ramp. A few give me an odd look, and a couple try to talk. I don’t like being rude, but I keep going without saying a word. When I arrive at my truck everything seems to be okay. Time to load up and head to the room. It’s 6:45 p.m. I need to get moving. I don’t want to be biking here in the dark.
Chapter 12
John
Ready for the Night
The Day
I move the bike and trailer to the off-road side of the truck. There aren’t many people walking past now, and those that do are sticking to the middle of the road.
Walking back around to the driver’s door I insert the key and unlock the door, then hit the power unlock button, and of course nothing happens. Duh! The electronic systems are shot. I guess in these newer trucks, the computers handle all controls. I climb in the truck and unlock the other doors manually.
> I move to the passenger side of the truck and open the front door. On the passenger seat is a candy bar and a pack of peanut butter crackers. The crackers go in my shirt pocket and I open the candy bar and take a big bite. My stomach is craving something sweet. Getting the opened bottle of water from the front cup holder, I drink it all. Now, time to work.
I search through the glove box for anything useful. Inside is the registration, insurance card, a state map, and a few other papers. The same map is already in my pack, so I leave it. There is nothing in here of any use right now. From the console, I get another spare magazine for the Glock and two single magazine holsters for my belt. I clip both to my pants right in front of the multi-tool on my left hip. I insert this magazine, loaded with 147 gr. Remington hollow point sub-sonic 9mm rounds in the back holder, then the one from my left pocket into the front holder. This magazine is loaded with 135 gr. Hornady Critical Duty 9mm rounds. There is also an LED light in the console, one of those single AA models. They are bright and cheap. I turn it on. It works. It’s definitely going along. Thinking, I pull the bigger Fenix light from my belt. It works too. Good. I was wondering if these LEDs would work after an EMP. There are a few other useful things inside including nail clippers, note pad, pen, and a USB thumb drive. I have no idea if the thumb drive will work, but it’s light so I put it in my front pants pocket. I already have the other items in my pack, so these will only be duplicates. There are a few other things, though nothing worth taking.
Moving to the back of the truck, I search for anything useful. Removing all the Mylar bags from the metal box, I place them in my pack. On the floorboard is an Academy Sports bag containing two-one hundred round boxes of 9mm Winchester full metal jacket (FMJ) rounds. These are definitely going in the pack. I open the tailgate and slide the cooler to the edge. From within I pull a dozen bottles of water and four Gatorades out of the icy water and put them in the plastic Academy Sports bag. After draining the water from the cooler I slide if back up on the truck bed, then place the bag of bottles in the trailer. I remove the box of MREs from the rear seat and place it in the trailer. There are six complete MREs in the box. From underneath the rear seat I grab a single man tent and sleeping pad, also placing them in the trailer. I consider my tool bag for a moment. There are some nice tools in there, but there’s no way I can take the whole bag. All the tools I might need for the trip home are already in my pack, so I decide not to take anything from the bag. Then a thought pops up in my head and I grab the crescent wrench from the bag, go around to the driver’s door and, reaching in, pop the hood. I unhook the positive side of the battery. From my shirt pocket I take pen and paper and write a short note – You’re welcome. I lay it and the wrench on the battery and close the hood. I know that was a useless gesture, but heck maybe somebody can get some use out of it. Electrical energy is a valuable item right now. No need to let the battery drain out and go to waste.
From the back seat I remove my laptop from its case and try to turn it on. It’s dead. Bummer. It’s only been two weeks since I bought it. It took more than two days to get all the software loaded and set up. Setting it on the floorboard, I pick a hammer out of the tool bag and proceed to smash it to bits until I find the hard drive, then I smash the hard drive. My dead iPhone gets the same treatment. They don’t work, and I’m not going to take them with me. As a matter of principle, I don’t want to leave any of my data, private or business, lying around. I lock all the doors, pull my pack from the back seat, and close the last door. Stowing my pack in the trailer, I walk around the truck one more time. It was a good truck. I’ve had it for two years. A Ford 4X4 STX. That baby cost me $50,000. Well, two years’ worth of 0% interest payments, anyway. Now it’s just a marvelous piece of useless metal and plastic. I open the fuel door and place the key inside, walk back to the bike, and start pedaling down the interstate heading for the hotel.
The trailer is heavy and it makes getting started difficult. I adjust the gears until I find a happy one and continue down the interstate. Driving down the off ramp, I pass a few people without speaking. It’s getting dusk and I want to be off the road. Ten minutes later, I pull into the Family Inn parking lot. Room 114 is on the ground floor about halfway down the building. Opening the room door, I draw my Glock and clear the room. I don’t want any surprises. I push the bike and trailer inside, close the door, set the deadbolt and door latch, then make sure the curtains are closed. Turning on my flashlight I point it toward the ceiling, washing the room in white light. From my pack I locate an emergency candle, set it up in one of the provided drinking glasses, and light it. I place it in front of the mirror, trying to get as much illumination as possible. It’s not bright, but that’s okay, I don’t want anybody knowing I have light anyway. I place my flashlight back in its holster.
Opening my pack, I pull out three items. One is a tall nylon pull string bag, the other two are molle type equipment carriers. Out of the nylon bag I remove a Kel-Tec Sub 2k 9mm folding carbine. This carbine uses the same magazines as my Glock 19, which makes things simpler, especially for my purposes. Unfolding the carbine I lock it into position, remove the magazine, and make sure the gun is unloaded. Out of the second bag I retrieve a Burris Fast Fire III red dot sight. It’s mounted on a quick detachable picatinny mount. I turn it on. I’m in luck. It works. I thought these micro-electronics would still work after an EMP, but wasn’t sure. I mount it forward on the upper forend top rail right behind the front sight, then I mount an IR laser sight to the left side rail. I unscrew the thread protector from the end of the barrel, exposing ½ x 28 threads. From the final bag I get a Gemtech GM9 sound suppressor. I drop the thread protector inside the bag and screw the suppressor onto the end of the barrel. After inserting the magazine I chamber a round and place the carbine on the bed beside me. I double check my billfold to make sure the tax stamp for the suppressor is there. I don’t want any trouble with an overzealous police officer or federal agent. One more thing. My night vision monocular (NVD). I place it by the carbine.
I remove my boots and blow out the candle, lying down on the bed. I’m exhausted. My day started very early this morning, and this is the first time my mind hasn’t been busy working on problems or developing and executing plans. Tomorrow I’ll plot my route home. For now, I lay back and relax. Thinking of Will and the folks back home, I wonder if they’ve figured out what’s going on. We’ve talked about this very event many times. Our plans for such an event are well laid out and written down. If Will follows the plan, he should be fine until I can get home in a week or so.
I end the day praying to God, asking for his protection as I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 13
John
Heading Home
Day 1
My eyes open. No need to look at my watch. Its 5:00 a.m., the same time I get up every day. The same time I’ve gotten up nearly every day as far back as I can remember. The same time Dad got me up every day as a kid. It didn’t matter if it was a school day, Sunday, or a holiday. I was up at 5:00 a.m.
Well, that’s not exactly true. There were those days when Kathy kept me up late at night and those mornings when she kept me in till late. There hasn’t been one of those days in over two years. It’s still dark in the room, with only a faint light seeping around the edges of the curtains. That’s one thing motel curtains have always impressed me with, their ability to block out all light, regardless of the time of day. I turn my flashlight on low, point it toward the ceiling, and wash the whole room with soft light.
I pick the room phone up checking for a dial tone. Nothing. Then I try the lamp. Nothing. Nothing happens when I flip the bathroom light switch either. I retrieve my Glock from the nightstand and tuck it and its holster into my waistband. I open the curtain slightly and peer out, studying the surroundings. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, except there are no streetlights, no building lights, and no traffic moving. Seeing nobody moving around, I unbolt the door and lift the latch. It’s eerily quiet. I’ve never
been in a city that the sounds of traffic couldn’t be heard regardless the time of day. I detect the faint smell of smoke. I had hoped I was wrong about the EMP and that things would be ordinary again. They’re not. The world has changed and it’s going to get bad as soon as everybody else figures it out.
Another door opens two doors down and a man steps out wearing jeans, no shoes, and no shirt. “Good morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I grunt back.
“Looks like trying times ahead,” he says conversationally. “What you reckon happened?”
I don’t feel like getting into a conversation this morning. I’ve got too much to do. “Not sure,” I answer. “Looks bad.”
The man lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and says, “I’m thinking it might be an EMP. I was talking with some coworkers last week who call themselves preppers. This seems like something they described. If it is, we’re screwed.”
“Yeah it’s scary for sure,” I reply. “Where are you from?”
“Meridian, Mississippi,” the man answers. “How the heck am I supposed to get back to Meridian?”
“How about riding a bike?” I suggest. “I’m going to south Alabama and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Yeah right, as if I could pedal a bike that far. No, I’m just going to sit here a few days and see what happens. The government will be around to coordinate things soon.”
“They might,” I say, “although I wouldn’t count on it. If you want a bike, there’s a bike shop a little ways down the road.”
“Nah, I’m just going to wait it out a little longer. If things don’t look up in a day or two I’ll get a bike then.”
