Survive (Day 1)

by A. R. Wise

  “No I don’t, little brother,” said Porter. “Remember when you asked me to help you quit?”

  “That was two years ago.”

  Porter shrugged.

  Red started the Jeep, and began to back out of Porter’s driveway. “Do you really think Mary will accept Dad’s help if he shows up at her door?”

  “No, she probably won’t. Not unless things get bad.”

  Red chuckled and said, “They’d have to get pretty damn bad for Mary to let that man come anywhere near her kids.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Porter. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Day One – 7:23pm

  Once out of the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and past the tree line, they were greeted by a vast expanse of rolling hills of swaying grass that preceded the southern suburbs of Denver. Dusk had settled on the land like a cool, soothing blanket, draping the once golden grass with a deep azure hue.

  The highway was visible across the fields, far from their lonely road. It snaked its way through the city and plains, and carved a path through rocks, determined to lay as flat as anything could on the rippling expanse. The artery was clogged, traffic seeping as slow as blood from a dead man’s heart.

  Porter pointed to the jammed highway and said, “Look. What’d I tell you?”

  Red whistled at the sight, and then asked, “Where’s everyone going?”

  “Away from the city.”

  “We’re never making it out of Colorado if the roads are like that.”

  “They won’t all be that bad,” said Porter as he took out a laminated map from a pocket in the lining of his coat. “We’ll avoid the highway and take the backroads. Let’s give this Jeep of yours a workout.” He already had a route planned out.

  “Jesus, look at that,” said Red as he eyed the distant interstate. The road they were on was higher than the plains, giving them a vantage of a long stretch of creeping traffic. “I bet its jammed all the way to Castle Rock.”

  “Probably further,” said Porter. “I bet it looks like that all the way down to the Springs.” He unfolded his map, and then refolded it so the relevant portion was visible. “Where’s June live?”

  “Carterville,” said Red. He pointed south. “About fifteen miles that way.”

  “Good,” said Porter. “She’s on the way.”

  “Dude,” said Red, still gazing out at the traffic jam, “if it’s like that the whole way…” He turned to his brother. “We’re never going to make it to Texas.”

  “Yes we will,” said Porter. “One way or another, we’ll get there.”

  Red was silent, mired by uncertainty that was etched in his expression as he stared at the road ahead. Porter saw his brother’s worry, and wanted to ease it, but there was nothing to say. Red needed this. He needed to realize how tough things were going to get. Porter stopped himself from offering a hopeful word.

  They neared a signpost at a t-section. Left to I-25, right to Carterville. When they got to the stop sign and had to choose, Porter asked, “You sure you want to drag her into this?”

  Red looked at his brother, but didn’t have an answer.

  “She’d be better off here,” said Porter.

  “I told her I’d pick her up.”

  They stayed at the stop sign until a car pulled up behind them.

  “This trip’s going to be rough,” said Porter.

  The car behind them honked. Red accelerated and turned right, towards Carterville. “I’m not going back on my word. I’ve got to at least talk to her. I’ll warn her that it’s going to be a long trip, but if she wants to come then we’ll take her. Cool?”

  “Whatever you think,” he said in an admonishing tone.

  “Don’t…” Red groaned, shook his head, and said, “You know who you sound like? You know who used to say that?” He waited a moment, but Porter didn’t answer. He continued, “Dad. He used to do that same thing.”

  “What?”

  Red mocked his brother, “’Whatever you think.’ Dad used to say that all the time, just like you did. That same smug tone. ‘Whatever you think.’” Red sighed. “I hated when he’d say that. You sound just like him sometimes.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Stop picking a fight,” said Porter. “Let’s get your lifelong lover and get a move on.” He checked his watch, grimaced, and then looked out his window.

  Red accelerated, and the Jeep’s engine eagerly roared. They shot down the winding mountain road, well over the speed limit. They came up behind a slow moving, non-descript delivery truck. The sides were white and featureless except for the clean, silver bolts. The truck looked brand new. The tires still had vent spews on them. The little rubber hairs proved that the tires hadn’t been driven long.

  Red encroached upon the oncoming traffic’s lane, but had to swerve back to avoid a passing car. By the time he had another chance the road was curving, and the yellow dotted line turned solid. He cursed in annoyance.

  “Chill out, Speed Racer,” said Porter.

  “What’s this guy’s problem?”

  “He’s going the speed limit.”

  “Yeah, exactly. What’s his deal?”

  “Maybe he’s not from around here,” said Porter, unconcerned. “No one likes driving fast on mountain roads when they’re not used to it.”

  A police car shot by in the other lane, whooshing past them with its siren wailing. Another soon followed, and then a third.

  Porter looked behind them to see where the cops were headed. “Wonder what they’re after. If you would’ve gotten a CB radio in the Jeep like I told you when you bought it…”

  “Don’t start,” said Red.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Then quit saying.”

  They neared Carterville, and the truck ahead slowed for a stop light. When the light changed, the truck stayed parked.

  “The light’s green, asshole,” said Red. He honked, and so did the car behind them. The driver of the truck had been distracted, and extended his hand to offer an apologetic wave. He was wearing a white glove.

  The truck drifted to the right, and then turned into a gas station that only had a few cars waiting in line.

  “Hey, we should get gas,” said Porter.

  “I’m pretty much at full already.” Once the truck had pulled to the side, Red accelerated as if in angry protest.

  Porter leaned over to check the gas gauge. “You still should’ve stopped. I doubt we’ll see many gas stations without long lines from here on out.”

  “We’ll be coming back this way after we get June,” said Red. “We can stop then.”

  Porter watched as the delivery truck pulled into the gas station and parked in back, along the side. Red was driving fast, which didn’t allow Porter the chance to get a good look at the truck’s driver, but he thought the man was wearing a hazmat suit.

  He shrugged it off, convinced he’d see a variety of odd things before the day was through.

  June lived at an apartment complex behind a senior living home. The two buildings looked confusingly similar, as if the apartments had been an extension of the senior living facility, but was sold after the residents died off too fast. The only distinguishing feature separating the two buildings were the bright yellow awnings over the windows of the apartments. The apartments were called Sunshine Row, and the marque featured a dawning globe of yellow blooming from the top with sharp rays, like spears pointing to the sky.

  Red avoided a stop light by driving through the elderly home’s parking lot, and earned several angry glares from the residents who peered through dingy windows. Red came to a screeching halt, nearly within the lines of a single parking spot.

  “You’re such a shitty driver,” said Porter as he looked down at the parking lines his brother had violated.

  “Whatever. I’ll be right back,” said Red before hopping out and jogging away.

  Porter checked his watch, and then looked at the EMP box a
t his feet. He’d made the box out of an ammunition case he bought at an Army Surplus store. Ammo boxes provide nearly perfect protection from electro-magnetic pulses. All he had to do when he bought it was remove the rubber gasket to provide a complete seal. Porter also had a roll of aluminum tape to cover the lid’s seam.

  He removed his watch, and placed it in the ammo box beside his phone. He considered turning his phone on to try and call Mary one more time, but decided it was too risky. Even though experts predicted the coronal mass ejection wouldn’t hit for another couple hours, he knew the science was far from certain. Nothing like this had happened in modern times. No one knew what to expect.

  Porter turned up the radio to listen to another emergency report filled with uncertainty and growing anxiety. He expected to hear the same things over and over as the hosts tried to come to grips with how unprepared the country was for what was about to happen.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ said a quivering male voice. Something about his obvious fear caused Porter to sit up straighter.

  ‘What is it?’ asked his female counterpart.

  A short pause. The signal was marred by static.

  ‘We just got word that… Hold on.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked the woman.

  ‘The AP is reporting that the FBI said we’re… we’re under attack.’

  ‘Under attack?’ she asked, astonished and fretful. ‘From where?’

  Porter turned the radio up.

  ‘I’m trying to get more information. We don’t… we don’t know many details. Someone get me more information! We can’t just…. What? Hold on, we’re getting more right now. I’m sorry. Please bear with us as we try to get more details. Here, here. Okay. The FBI is warning that terrorist cells have been activated following the warning of the coronal mass ejection.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said the woman.

  ‘It gets worse.’ The reporter stuttered before composing himself and saying, ‘The details are vague, but it seems like this is bigger than just extremism.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The FBI said there might be international connections. This isn’t just Muslim extremists. They’re warning that a coalition of anti-American forces are going to use the CME as an opportunity to start a…’

  He paused for only a second, but the silence felt interminable.

  ‘To start what?’ asked the female reporter.

  ‘To start a war.’

  Day One – 8:05pm

  “Red,” shouted Porter as he banged on a door he hoped was June’s. He didn’t know which apartment his brother had gone in, and was hoping for the best.

  An overweight Mexican answered, his eyes wide and one arm behind his back, hiding a pistol from the huge, bearded stranger banging on his door.

  “Does June live here?” asked Porter.

  “No,” answered the scowling man.

  “Do you know where she lives?”

  “Who?”

  “A girl named June. About this tall,” he held his hand up to the middle of his chest. “Blonde hair. Tattoos.”

  The stranger pointed down the hall. “204.”

  “Thanks.” Porter ran down the hall, past a few more doors. “Red,” he shouted again as he banged on the door of apartment 204.

  His brother answered the door shirtless, revealing his sculpted abs and a tattoo of a skull on his right breast that Porter didn’t know he had.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” asked Porter upon seeing his brother half-nude.

  “It’s not how it looks,” said Red. “I was doing like you said and changing my clothes. June had a few of my hoodies.”

  “Here,” said June as she came down the hallway holding one of Red’s hoodies. “Hi Porter. I don’t know if you remember me.” She extended her hand to Porter after giving Red his shirt. Her silver bracelets jangled.

  June was a petite thing, barely five feet tall, and not more than a hundred pounds. Her formerly long blonde hair had been cut short since Porter last saw her. It was curly and haphazard, but still presentable. She looked like a model on a photo shoot trying to look disheveled. Her face was pierced in too many places for Porter to count. Her nose, lip, eyebrow, and ears were adorned with a variety of hoops and spikes. Tattoos adorned nearly every inch of exposed skin except for her hands and face. Even her neck was decorated with a rising phoenix peeking up from her sternum.

  Porter used to insist that he didn’t judge people by their appearance, but that wasn’t really true. He didn’t look down on someone who covered themselves with piercings and tattoos, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t make assumptions about them. June was a gorgeous woman, but the wealth of piercings and tattoos she covered herself with hinted at a damaged psyche. That was an impression he’d never admit, but never-the-less cemented his opinion that June was troubled.

  “I remember you.” His response was curt and short. “Listen, we need to go. Now.”

  “We’re going,” said Red as he slipped into his shirt and wormed his head through the hood. “We just need to…”

  “No, we need to go right now,” said Porter. His earnest insistence alarmed them. “The FBI just announced that we’re under attack.”

  “Under attack?” asked Red. “By who? Aliens?”

  “No,” said Porter, dismayed by his brother’s bizarre response. “Aliens? No. By terrorists, or Russia, or… I don’t know. They didn’t say. All they said was that some foreign power is using the CME as an opportunity to launch an attack against us.”

  “Holy shit,” said Red. “Like what sort of attack? Nuclear?”

  “I don’t… Jesus, let’s hope not. I don’t know. They didn’t say. Whatever it is, we need to get home, now.”

  “Home?” asked Red.

  “Yeah, I’m going to get you two someplace safe. We’ll go back to my place, and you can hide out with my neighbor in the shelter. That way you…”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” said Red. “What about you?”

  “I’m going to Texas.” He locked eyes with his brother and added, “Alone.”

  “Like hell you are,” said Red.

  “I’m not dragging the two of you along with me all the way to Texas. Who knows how long it’ll take to get there? It’s stupid for all three of us to go. I’ll feel better if…”

  “Stop,” said Red. “Just stop. I’m going with you. End of story.”

  “You’ve got June to think of too,” said Porter. “She doesn’t deserve to get hauled a thousand miles through Lord-only-knows what. We’re not just talking about the lights going out anymore. What if they’re right, and we’re really under attack? Do you want to travel through a warzone?”

  “I’m going with you,” said Red.

  “If Red’s going, then so am I,” said June, holding a bag packed with her things.

  “There’s no point arguing about it,” said Red before his brother had a chance to respond. “I’m not letting you go by yourself, and June’s safer with us.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” said Porter. “There’s no telling what’s going to happen.”

  “I know. That’s why you need me. Someone’s got to keep you safe. And no one but me gives a shit about you these days.”

  June was checking something on her phone. “It says here that they caught someone delivering people. What’s that even mean?”

  “Maybe dropping off terrorists at malls.” said Red as he stood beside June to look at her phone.

  “No. Hold on,” said June. “The internet’s slow as all hell right now.”

  “Come on,” said Porter. “You can check on the way.”

  “I bet they had terrorist cells all over the country,” said Red as he followed Porter out of the apartment. “Just waiting for an opportunity like this. Maximum chaos. You know?”

  “Maybe,” said Porter. “I still think you two should go to the bunker.”

  “That’s not going to happen. End of story.”

  They le
ft the complex and headed for Red’s Jeep. June marveled at the amount of stuff already packed into the vehicle. “Good thing I’m small,” she said as she looked at the spot where she was supposed to sit. Supplies crowded her seat, and a bag of guns was on the floor at her feet.

  Porter still had Red’s keys, and he put them in the ignition as he got into the passenger’s seat. The radio came back on.

  ‘…twenty or thirty, maybe more, maybe less,’ said a male voice. It was a different reporter from the one who’d been on when Porter left to get Red. ‘We really don’t know yet.’

  ‘I thought we had longer,’ said a female reporter.

  ‘It’s an imprecise science. We’ve never dealt with anything like this before. We’re lucky we had as much notice as we did. In the past, the ACE satellite would’ve been the only warning we got.’

  “Quick,” said Porter, “Turn off your phones and give them to me.”

  “Why?” asked June.

  Porter opened the ammo box at his feet. “Just hurry. Give them to me.” He snatched their phones away and put them in the box. Next he took out the aluminum tape and started to furiously wrap the container.

  “What’s going on?” asked June.

  Red started to answer, but Porter cut him off, “The CME’s hitting earlier than they thought. If it’s already at the ACE satellite, then it’s moving fast; really fast.”

  “Is that satellite orbiting Earth?” asked Red.

  “No, it’s far away, but they weren’t expecting it to get hit for another couple hours. That means the CME is bigger than they thought.” He turned the radio up.

  ‘The best thing you can do is unplug all of your appliances.’

  “That probably won’t work,” said Porter as if able to debate them.

  ‘And get your family somewhere safe. Hopefully you’ve got supplies. If not, then head to a nearby shelter. If you don’t know where a local shelter is, then go to a police or fire station. They’ll be able to help get you someplace safe.’

  ‘Safe from what?’ asked the female reporter. ‘Should we be worried about getting electrocuted?’