Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  In the silence that followed, the late afternoon sun seemed to burn with a peculiar strength, casting the room in a fiery orange light. The silence was broken when Selene suddenly screamed and pushed away from the bar, stumbling backward with her dog wrapped in both arms.

  “No, it hasn’t been thirty minutes,” she said. “They said thirty minutes. It can’t happen yet! It can’t be real!”

  This set her dog off, who began to bark like he was being killed. The frantic barking was ear-piercing in the small room, and Elna had to fight an urge to cover her ears.

  “Please, someone shut that dog up,” Garret snarled. “It’s hard to think with all that yapping.”

  “He can’t help it,” Selene said. “He’s afraid!”

  “We’re all afraid,” Garret snapped, “but we’re not screaming at the top of our lungs for no reason.”

  As Selene petted the dog in an attempt to calm him down, Elna reached under the bar and picked up the landline phone that was stored on a shelf there. She lifted the receiver to her ear but got no dial tone. She turned on the nearby FM radio, but it didn’t work either. No static, no response, the little red light didn’t even come on.

  “I’m telling you, that dog is driving me nuts,” Garret said.

  Malin placed a hand on his best man’s arm, but Garret shook it off. Elna’s father pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at the blank screen, as if he were unaware of the tension. Clearly, he still intended Elna to take charge of the room. With a sigh, she stepped up on a small footstool behind the bar so all of the guests could see her. She wasn’t sure what to say, and her heart was pounding so fiercely that she’d become light-headed.

  Pop, say something. Do something. Put away the phone and help me.

  “Um…okay, everyone,” she said, but her voice cracked. “Let’s not panic.”

  The barking of the Bichon Frise had finally stopped, but only because Selene had covered her dog’s mouth with her hand. Elna heard muttering, whimpering, and cursing all over the room. Only Malin was dead silent now, clenching and unclenching his fists on the bar top.

  “We need to come up with a plan,” Elna said. A task which would have been a lot easier if there hadn’t been so many chattering people in the room. She could scarcely think.

  Her father tossed his cell phone onto the bar. “It’s dead,” he said. “Can’t call out. Can’t even get the screen to light up.”

  She was about to ask him what they should do when he signaled for her to continue.

  “We need a plan,” she said again, all too aware that every eye was on her.

  “Can we get off the island?” Malin asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Elna said. “The drawbridges are designed so that if the power goes out, counterweights cause them to automatically rise. It’s so boats can pass.”

  Malin clapped a hand to his own forehead. “So we’re stuck here for how long?”

  “Until power is restored,” Elna said.

  At this, the room went dead silent. Even the dog had finally stopped making noise, as Selene paced back and forth in front of the west-facing windows, drawing her long shadow across the room. Afternoon was giving way to evening all too quickly, the orange light taking on a slight purplish hue.

  “We need a—” Elna almost said it a third time but caught herself.

  “It’s no use,” Garret said, interrupting her. “It’ll be night soon. We can’t do anything but light candles. If the power’s not restored by tomorrow morning—and it won’t be—then we can take inventory of what you’ve got on the island.”

  “We have a powered water pump system,” Elna said, “with a backup generator. We’ve got canned food.”

  “How much?” Garret asked.

  Elna pictured the food pantry in her mind. How much would it last the handful of people on the island? “Maybe a week’s worth,” she said. “Plus, we have a stocked freezer and a small garden. We’re not a big operation here, as you all know, but we’re not without means.”

  “And we have plenty of wine,” her father added.

  Selene groaned loudly. “So we just have to stay put for the night with no idea what’s happened in the rest of the country? With no electricity? No phones?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Elna replied, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. She almost succeeded. All of this would have been so much easier without the guests. She dreaded having to deal with them if the problem persisted. She wasn’t good around people; especially strangers. “I’m afraid so. I think Garret’s right. In the morning, we can figure out what to do.”

  “We get off this island is what we do,” Malin said concern etched across his face. “We swim, we float on a log, we do whatever we have to do, but we get off this island. That’s it. I have a fiancée to return to. She’s all the way in Las Vegas, and she’s waiting for me.” To punctuate his point, he smacked the bar with his hand loudly enough to make Elna jump.

  Dabbing a sheen of sweat off her upper lip, she gazed through the west windows. The sun was dropping too fast. Night was in a hurry to arrive, ready to cast them into its hopeless dark. She shuddered at the thought.

  Reassure the guests, dummy, she scolded herself. That’s your job.

  “It’s okay, folks,” she said. “We have comfortable accommodations for you tonight. We’ll figure this all out in the morning.”

  Her father had an uneasy smile plastered on his face, but he nodded at her and gave her a thumbs-up. Clearly, he wanted to reassure her that she’d handled it well, but she didn’t feel reassured. Not at all.

  2

  Garret spat a big gob of chewed-up bagel as he spoke. It landed on the table near the bowl of raisins. Elna quickly covered it with a napkin then tried to surreptitiously wipe it away. They were sitting at tables on the shaded veranda overlooking the parking lot, a crisp morning breeze sweeping over the island from the Pacific. Elna hadn’t slept well that night, and she had a pounding headache. By the looks of the people around her, she wasn’t alone.

  “I’m not claiming to be a scientist,” Garret was saying, a bit louder than necessary. His big face seemed redder and rounder than ever, and his thick fingers were crushing the life out of the bagel. “I’ve just read some things about EMPs. I know what we’re dealing with better than most of you. That’s not bragging, okay? That’s a fact.”

  Selene was nibbling on a bit of prosciutto, her dog curled up in her lap. The morning looked so ordinary. Elna had experienced a thousand mornings like this on the island: guests on the veranda, sunlight streaming across the bay from the east, wind stirring the vines. No smoke billowed up in the distance, no sign of the apocalypse carried on the wind, but one glance at her dark cell phone screen told her the truth. Something was very, very wrong.

  “So tell us what you know,” Selene said. “Or maybe I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I’m getting to it,” Garret said sharply. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before, and his dark hair looked like he hadn’t bothered to run a comb through it. “Basically, what we’re dealing with is a nuke—or, in this case, dozens of nukes. They explode in the ionosphere and create a massive electromagnetic pulse.”

  “But we didn’t see any sign of explosions,” Malin said, swirling a bit of cold coffee in a ceramic mug, his own breakfast lying untouched on the table. “We didn’t feel or hear any shockwaves.”

  “Dude, they could have been detonated hundreds of miles from here,” Garret said. “A big enough EMP can impact a huge area. They said all of North America.”

  “I know they said it,” Malin replied, gripping his forehead. “I just have a hard time accepting it.”

  “What does an electromagnetic pulse do?” Selene asked.

  “It causes a rapid increase in charged particles,” Garret said, ripping another bagel in half. “Then it sends out a massive wave of electrical currents, and basically, any piece of modern electrical equipment in the area gets fried. Cars, phone systems, computers, the whole power grid. Bl
asted. Wiped out. Gone!” And with that, he stuffed another chunk of bagel into his mouth and bit down hard, as if taking his frustration out on the food.

  “You’re being a little overdramatic,” Malin said. “Fried? Blasted? Wiped out? I don’t think so. It could just cause transformers to overload, trip circuits breakers and stuff. Let’s not forget, you run a construction company. Anything you know about EMPs came from Google searches, not from actual training or expertise.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Just that we should take it all with a grain of salt,” Malin said. “A lot of websites are full of alarmist content. They deal in worst-case scenarios. Our situation might not be so bad. We don’t know that every piece of electronics is destroyed. We don’t know anything yet. Why assume?”

  Elna nodded, not because she knew Malin was right but because she wanted him to be. “It wouldn’t take much to overload the power grid. Might be a while before they can get it up and running again.”

  “Powered things can be repaired,” Malin said. “It’s not going to fry everything.”

  “Dude, it’ll burn out the circuits,” Garret said. “Complete obliteration. Stop with your wishful thinking.”

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Selene said. “I never should have asked. Please stop talking about this.” She seemed on the verge of tears. The woman had looked distressed from the moment she’d arrived on the island, but now she appeared to be on the verge of some kind of breakdown. “Please!”

  Elna’s father rose from his seat and stepped over to the porch railing, leaning heavily against it. He’d been sitting with an older couple, the white-haired and bent septuagenarians, Joe and Rita Dulles, and they held hands as the others spoke. Elna envied them the comforting touch, but that was a thought-trail she didn’t want to go down. Another guest, Norman Davis, sat across from them. A portly middle-aged African American gentleman, Norman had a broad, handsome face and seemed especially fond of long-sleeve dress shirts and khaki pants

  “Nope, sorry,” Garret said. “Nobody wants to be wrong more than me, but an EMP big enough to affect the entire continent is going to burst power lines, fry circuit boards, kill vehicles on the road, and knock airplanes out of the sky. Think of all those screaming passengers, man. Damn. That could have been me and Malin! One second, flying along, going about your business, and the next second you’re falling out of the sky like you got swatted by the hand of God. We didn’t see the chaos because we’re stuck here in the middle of the ocean, but hell got unleashed yesterday evening.”

  Malin shook his head, pushing his untouched breakfast away from him. “None of us are experts on what an electromagnetic pulse can do. You’ve read a few articles, that’s it. What good does frightening everyone do? You’re just getting people worked up.”

  “Not wanting to hear the truth won’t make it go away,” Garret said, tossing the remaining chunk of bagel onto his plate so hard that it bounced and went sailing off toward the parking lot.

  This caused Selene’s dog to growl and give a halfhearted yip. Elna’s dad finally turned to face his guests, crossing his arms over his chest. His long wispy hair had fallen in his face, and he shook his head to get it out of his eyes. Despite his slight build, George Pasqualee could command attention when he wanted to. The look in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way his heavy eyebrows drooped down, the bulge of muscles in his hairy forearms—Elna paused with everyone else, waiting for him to speak.

  “I’m with him,” her father said, nodding his head at Malin. “Maybe he’s wrong, maybe he’s right, but let’s not start talking about everything being blasted or airplanes falling out of the sky unless we know it’s true.”

  Norman, who had been quietly enjoying his bagel, spoke up then. “We shouldn’t do or say things that will cause undue stress. Better to stay calm and see how things play out. That’s what I say.” He had a deep, soft voice.

  “Exactly,” Mr. Pasqualee said. “Right now, we have to figure out what we’re doing next. Let’s assume this’ll get fixed soon and keep a positive attitude, okay? And then we go from there.”

  He gave Garret a lingering look, and their fierce gazes met somewhere in the air between them. Garret finally shrugged, pursed his lips, and leaned back in his chair. Elna wanted to agree with her father, but she couldn’t quite get there. How could they pretend like everything was going to be okay?

  “Hey, your call, Pasqualee,” Garret said, holding up both hands. “It’s your vineyard, after all. Yeah, we’ll have power in three hours. There you go. I said it. Now what?”

  “Let’s assume this might last a few days,” Elna’s father said. “What do we need to do to get through that time? Elna?” He gestured at his daughter.

  She sat up straight. Yes, this was where she was most comfortable: analyzing the problem and finding solutions. “What do people always need? Food, water, and shelter. We’ve got plenty of shelter.” She gestured at the building over her shoulder. “No problem there. We have the water pumps for the vineyard. Food will last a few days, maybe, right?”

  “Everything in the freezer will go bad,” he replied. “We’ve got cheese and crackers that should keep for a while, some canned vegetables.”

  “Or we drink ourselves under the table and sleep until this mess is over,” Selene muttered, furiously petting her dog.

  Garret scowled at her and seemed on the verge of saying something. Why did he always look so hostile? Finally, he blew his breath out loudly and stood up.

  “I think we should gather up all the tools you’ve got around the property and bring them together to one place,” he said. “You never know what we might need, and we won’t want to go searching around if there’s an emergency.”

  “Emergency like what?” Malin said. “The power went out. That’s all.”

  “I happen to think he’s right,” Elna’s father said. “Let’s break up into small groups. We’ll round up anything of use and bring it back to the tasting room. We’ll store everything there for easy access.”

  “Do we have to?” Selene said with a sigh.

  “Isn’t it better than sitting here and imagining the worst?” George said, giving her a pointed look.

  Selene hugged her dog tightly and bowed her head. “I suppose so,” she said softly, after a moment.

  “Good. Elna, you take a group to the water tank and see how much fresh water we have stored,” he said. “Run the longest hose to the main building. It should reach. Take these two with you.”

  He pointed at Malin and Garret, and Elna fought an urge to groan. She was tempted to argue with him—she just wanted to go alone—but what was the point? With a curt nod, she rose from her seat and beckoned the two men.

  “Follow me,” she said.

  Elna was at her wit’s end with Malin and Garret. Despite being groom and best man, and apparently years-long friends, the two had very different personalities, and they constantly bickered making her wonder if they were always like this or if it was simply the stress of Malin’s upcoming wedding and their current situation. By the time they reached the water storage tank, the two had debated ad nauseum whether or not fried electronics could be repaired neither willing to concede to the other.

  “You’re telling me an overloaded electrical transformer can’t be fixed?” Malin said.

  “We’re talking about circuits that have been burned out,” Garret replied. “What don’t you get about that? Burned out!”

  Malin scrubbed his face with his hands, his gold university class ring glinting in the morning sunlight. His gelled hair was starting to fall apart, stray blond strands sticking in various directions.

  The water storage tank sat in a small clearing amidst the vineyards. It pumped fresh water for irrigation. A metal ladder led to the top of the tank, and Elna made sure to get in front of the men so she could climb. Anything to put a little distance between them.

  “Okay, when it’s full, this tank holds 8,000 gallons,” she said, mounting the ladder. “I’ll check
the level. You guys root around for loose tools.” She pointed to a small storage shed at the edge of the clearing. “You’ll find some stuff over there.” Just wander away, guys. Wander far, far away. Please!

  She reached the top of the tank and opened the small hatch to peer inside. It was a little less than half full. The vinyl tank liner made the water seem dark and murky, though she knew it was relatively clean.

  Maybe 3,000 gallons, she thought. A little more. With no power, the pump won’t work. We can use the generator, as long as it still has fuel. But how long will it last?

  “Surely it’s enough,” she muttered, as she started back down the ladder.

  In the end, they ran their longest irrigation hose from the water tank all the way to the tasting room. It reached the back door with just a little bit of slack left. Malin and Garret had rounded up some gardening tools: rakes, hoes, spades, shears, brooms, loppers, and more.

  Elna’s father, Selene and her dog, the Dulleses, and Norman were already gathered there. Canned food had been stacked on the bar alongside numerous bottles of water and boxes of crackers and snacks. Malin and Garret set the tools in the corner.

  “Backup generators aren’t working,” her father said. “Won’t even start.” As he said it, he hoisted a large 12-volt battery onto the bar. “But these lead-acid batteries still seem to have some power. Not sure if we can make use of them.” He hoisted a second battery beside the first one.

  “Water tank is half full,” Elna told him, arranging the tools thematically: snipping tools over here, long-handled tools over there.

  “We tried a few of the vehicles,” Norman said. “They won’t start. Heck, they don’t do anything. Interior lights don’t come on when you turn the key.”

  Elna caught Garret giving Malin a meaningful look, eyebrows climbing his lined forehead. See, dude, I was right, the look said. Elna cringed at the unnecessary intensity of it making her wonder what else was behind that look.