Grid Down: The Beginning - An EMP Survival Story

by Roger Hayden

  She glanced at her three-piece, queen-sized bed. The blankets were tossed around and hanging over the side. Something beyond her own tiredness wasn’t right, and she was going to find out what had happened.

  She walked down the hall, past both Josh and Kelly’s rooms and into the living room. A subdued sunlight shone in through the thin drapes covering the window. She approached the front door, where the keypad for their home alarm system was. The digital screen was blank, which was odd, because the system was supposed to have a back-up power supply in the event of an outage. She pressed buttons on the keypad, just to see if anything would happen.

  “Unbelievable,” she said under her breath.

  She unlocked the front door and opened it, squinting as she looked outside. Their neighbors across the street, the Rockwells, didn’t look to be home. Their cars weren’t in the driveway, and the garage door was shut. The barks of neighborhood dogs echoed in the silence.

  She grabbed her keys and a jacket and opened the door as sunlight hit her face. She walked to the driveway, blocking her eyes, to where her silver Kia Sportage was parked.

  Her retired neighbor, Ken Blackwell, stood at the end of his driveway looking around in his straw hat, suspenders, and gloves. He was an old-fashioned man who spent most of his mornings in the backyard tending to his vegetable garden.

  “Morning, Mila,” he said.

  “Good morning, Ken,” Mila said, startled.

  “How’s that night shift treatin’ you?” he asked.

  “So far, so good,” she replied. She stuck the key in the door and opened it.

  “Goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

  She turned around and brushed her dark hair out of her face. “No. The power’s out, and I just wanted to check on something.”

  “Lost power here, too,” Ken said. “Looks like the whole street is down.”

  She got in, put the key in the ignition, and after a careful turn, all she heard was a sputtering click. She tried again. Nothing.

  “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s temporary,” Ken said in his usual calm tone.

  Distracted, Mila agreed with him and walked to the end of the driveway.

  Houses on both sides of the street were quiet with little activity. Three houses down, she saw her neighbor, Allen, with his sleeves rolled up, messing with the engine of his Ford Taurus. She turned the other way and saw a garbage truck broken down in the middle of the road, its doors and hood open, with two garbage collectors examining the engine.

  “You all right?” Ken asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, returning to the house. She felt the warm hood of her car as she walked by, and thought of the other car they had in the garage, a red four-door 1979 Datsun: their bug-out vehicle. It was the vehicle they had for a number of reasons. It had low gas mileage, easy-to-repair-parts, and a low-key design. And most importantly, the lack of computerized components were susceptible to electromagnetic pulses. The more she began to add things up, the more resolute she became.

  She waved to Ken and went back inside, straight to the kitchen in search of the Datsun keys. She opened their miscellaneous kitchen drawer and searched through tape, pens, markers, receipts, and finally discovered a key chain with some old keys on it. She snatched them up and went to the garage.

  From what she understood about nuclear EMPs, they produced damaging electrical currents with the ability to disable and destroy power grids and electronic components. Upon impact, high-frequency surges travel to the ground and trigger electrical components to exceed their voltage.

  A solar flare phenomenon was something else she had heard about. The sun regularly released broad flashes of powerful magnetic rays that, if they reached Earth, would damage electronics considerably. Whatever had happened, Mila needed to get moving.

  She stopped at the living room window when she noticed a man walking by. He looked lost and out of place. His hair was short and disheveled, and his face looked dirty. He wore a blue mechanic’s jumpsuit and walked with a slight limp. A cigarette rested behind his left ear.

  He glanced at the house and then kept walking. Mila backed away from the window, out of fear of being seen. After a moment passed, she took a quick look and didn’t see anyone. She raced through the living room toward the garage and opened the door, instinctively flipping the light switch. There wasn’t even a spark.

  She walked inside the darkened garage and passed a large shelving unit on the side of the garage stocked with canned goods and emergency food kits. The dust-covered Datsun was right across from the shelves. Her hands clutched the door handled and pulled open the squeaky driver’s side door. She sat on the smooth vinyl seat as its rusty springs squeaked.

  “OK, here we go,” she said, putting the key in the ignition.

  With one turn, the engine sputtered to life. It choked and heaved as black exhaust blasted out of the tailpipe. Mila pressed her foot against the gas pedal as the dashboard lit up with a barrage of engine lights. Excitement gripped her heart.

  But there was so much to be done, she didn’t even know where to start. If an EMP was at play, she knew the plan: they’d bug-out to the mountains. The most important thing, she knew at the time, was getting the kids.

  She revved the engine while examining the fuel gauge. They were at half a tank. They would need more to drive to the city and back. She turned the ignition off. It was time to get Rob, get the kids, and move on to the bug-out phase. Surprised by how naturally the thoughts came to her, she felt in control. Whatever happened had happened. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

  There was running water, still warm. Mila took a quick shower and got ready as fast as she could. She threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, put on a pair of sneakers, and opened their closet.

  Inside was their biometric safe. She unlocked the safe and looked for her snub nose .38 Special revolver. It rested there next to their passports and an envelope containing five hundred dollars in cash. She grabbed the revolver, shut the safe, and looked around. There was something else.

  She suddenly remembered the radios. Next to some boxes on the floor was a protective metal case with several high-frequency handheld radios and one emergency hand-crank radio inside. As a rule of thumb, Rob had usually kept the handhelds charged. She grabbed the case and fled the room, hoping there was nothing else she might have forgotten.

  She opened the garage and tossed her purse inside the Datsun. Just out of the shower, with her hair tied back, she was already sweating. The thought of her next hospital shift crossed her mind. She had to warn her co-workers and make the sure the patients were okay. Rob. The kids. The hospital. It was too much to think about all at once.

  “One thing at a time,” she told herself.

  She knelt down next to the car and opened the radio case, seeing three 50-mile GMRS/FRS two-way radios, chargers, and the emergency chargers. Rob had a radio at the store, and she hoped he had it on him. Familiar with how to use it, she switched it on and stood up.

  The bright sunlight shone into the garage. She walked away from the Datsun and looked around outside, relieved when she didn’t see anyone. It was time to hit the road.

  “Rob. If you’re there, answer me.” She waited. Nothing but static came through. “Rob. Are you there? If you can hear me, let me know. I’m coming to the store. Wait on me.”

  She turned to open the car door when a voice crackled on the other end.

  “Mila!” Rob said.

  “I’m here, Rob.”

  “You’re awake? Listen to me. Something bad has happened. Just like we discussed. Looks like an EMP.”

  “I know. I’ve got the Datsun packed and ready to go. My car won’t start. We’re going to have to drive into the city and get the kids.”

  She waited for a response, but only static came through. “Rob?”

  She walked back into the garage and next to the driver’s side door when she felt the presence of another person behind her. A shadow entered. She spun around, startled. Her heart ne
arly stopped when she saw the man, instantly recognizable and leering and smiling with crooked yellow teeth.

  “Mila, are you there? I lost signal,” Rob’s voice said. “Hold on, I’m coming!”

  She was frozen in place, unable to respond.

  “How ya doing?” the man asked. She could smell his oil-stained mechanic’s jumpsuit from where he stood.

  “Name’s Chet.” That much was evident by the name patch stitched on his chest.

  “What do you want?”

  Chet smiled wide and raised his arms to the top of the garage, holding onto the small ledge. He began to rock back-and-forth on his heels. She looked beyond the man and hoped to see Ken. The revolver was in her pocket and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  “My car broke down about a mile down the road that way,” Chet said, pointing in the direction he had come from. “Can’t find anyone to help me. I saw you were having a little car trouble yourself and thought that maybe we could help each other.”

  “How exactly can we do that?” she asked.

  “I’ll take a look at your Kia, and maybe you can give me a ride into town.”

  “No thanks,” she said.

  Chet examined the Datsun. “Going somewhere in this thing?”

  Mila felt angry. Violated.

  “I don’t really think that’s any of your business. I would advise that you call a tow truck.”

  “Good idea,” Chet said. “Can I use your phone? My battery died.”

  “I’m sorry. The power is out throughout the entire block. Our phone isn’t working.”

  Chet lowered his arms and took a step forward. “You don’t like me, do you?”

  Mila felt the bulge of the revolver in her pocket.

  He noticed her growing anxiety. “I won’t take offense if you don’t. But I would hope that you’re not judging me by my appearance alone. I could really use some help.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do.” She took a step toward the garage door to close it just as he took another step in. Mila stopped.

  He looked at her and smiled out of sheer amusement. “There’s plenty you can do. Trust me.”

  Unstoppable

  Rob cautiously approached the door outside where Bernie was standing with his face pressed to the glass, pleading with Rob to let him in. Through the bars on the door, he could see the sense of dread on Bernie’s face. Rob unlocked the door and opened it slightly as Bernie rushed in. He quickly closed and locked it again.

  Bernie was out of breath. He held his suit jacket over his shoulder. His white button-down shirt was covered in sweat, as was his face. He leaned over, bracing himself on his knees, gasping. Rob handed him a bottle of water.

  “All right. Take a breath, Bernie,” Rob said, standing over him.

  Bernie raised his head, guzzled the bottle of water, and then wiped his mouth. “I told you this would happen. We’re under attack. It’s clear as day!”

  Rob went over to the front window and pulled the shades down, blocking out the sunlight and prying eyes. “That much is obvious, yes. We’ve been hit with an EMP.”

  Bernie stood up a little, finally catching his breath. “Whatever it was, power’s out through the entire town.”

  “The entire town?” Rob asked.

  Bernie nodded. “It’s out at the court house, that’s for sure. I went there, ready to report for jury duty when it happened. At first, I’m thinking, no big deal. Then I saw the cars. All dead in the water. Tried to call a cab, but the driver was just sitting there in the middle of the road. Cell phones. Nothing. Computers. Nothing. Then I thought about the local prison.” Bernie walked closer to Rob with fear in his eyes. “How long do you think they can keep that place under control?”

  Rob nodded understandingly and then walked over to one of the aisles. He grabbed a camouflaged tactical backpack and began loading it with supplies from the store.

  “What are you doing?” Bernie asked.

  “What does it look like?” Rob asked, going down the aisle and tossing items inside his bag.

  “Looks like you’re on a shopping spree.”

  Rob set the bag down on the floor. It was nearly full. “I’m getting out of here. In two weeks, this town will be out of food. The grocery store shelves will be empty. Without trucks delivering food and goods, there’ll be nothing coming in.”

  Rob pulled at both ends of a draw-string, clinching the bag shut. “The EMP has dismantled the power grid. We’re looking at a minimum of two months before power grids can be repaired and back online.”

  “So just like that, you’re leaving?” Bernie asked, astonished.

  Rob brought his bag over to the counter and set it down. He went behind the counter, took his non-functioning laptop, and slid it into a cubbyhole. “I have to get my family together. Then we’re going to hunker down for as long as it takes.” Rob didn’t go into too much detail. Bernie had a big mouth. However, Rob wanted to at least set him in the right direction.

  Bernie looked desperate and afraid, and Rob never liked to see anyone like that. “Bernie. I want you to take what you need from the store. Think of the basics. What’s going to get you through the next two months? You and your wife. Then I’d suggest you lie low until things blow over.”

  Bernie was flummoxed. “I have a business to run. Mortgage payments. You do, too. We can’t just walk away from everything and hide in the mountains.”

  “Think about it,” Rob said, placing a metal case on the front counter. “Things are only going to get worse from here on out.”

  Bernie seemed to get the picture. “It was the Russians, wasn’t it? Just like I was saying before. They’re trying to start another Cold War.”

  Suddenly someone else banged on the door from outside, causing Bernie to jump. Rob pulled another case from under the counter, small and plastic. Inside were a 9mm Beretta pistol and three full magazines. He opened the case, keeping an alert eye on the door.

  Mr. Clayton stood at the door, frightened. “Hey, Rob. Let me in. Come on, no hard feelings, eh?”

  Bernie looked back then at Rob. “Clayton? Nah, don’t let that asshole in.”

  Rob sighed and quickly moved from the counter to the door. He unlocked it and let his landlord slip in. “What’s wrong? Car doesn’t start?”

  Clayton looked exasperated. He took off his ball cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Couldn’t even get the engine to turn over. What the hell is going on out there?”

  “It’s an EMP,” Bernie answered. “The Russians hit us real good.”

  Clayton shifted and turned to Bernie, giving him a funny look. Then he switched to Rob. “What are they saying on the news?”

  Rob walked behind the counter, where his work stereo rested on a stool, powerless. He opened the metallic case he had set down earlier, revealing a two-way GMRS/FRS handheld and an emergency radio. He wound the radio’s hand crank as Clayton and Bernie waited quietly. He tried both FM and AM stations but received nothing but static.

  “Can I buy one of those from you?” Bernie asked. Clayton jumped in and asked for one too.

  Rob took a breath and placed the radio back in the case. He spoke as he stuck the handheld in his pocket. “We’re closed. And I’m locking up until further notice. You guys get what you need and be on your way home, where it might be safer.”

  Both men seemed overwhelmed. They looked at Rob, expecting answers and solutions. But he had very little to give.

  “Find your families and stay close to them,” he reiterated. He glanced at Clayton in particular. “And don’t forget that my lease doesn’t run out on this place for another two months.”

  “Of course. I would never do anything like that,” Clayton said sheepishly.

  Another knock came at the door. Rob was nearing his wits’ end with visitors. This time it was Carol, the curly, red-haired woman who owned the book store.

  “Rob? Are you in there?”

  Bernie turned to the door and rolled his eyes. “Oh no. Not h
er.”

  “Let her in,” Rob said. He then lifted his backpack onto the counter, dug into his pocket, and pulled out the handheld radio, hoping to hear Mila’s voice on the other end. But there was no way to know if she was even up, let alone trying to reach him on the radio.

  “Why the metal case?” Clayton asked, referring to the container with the radios inside.

  “Blocks damaging magnetic waves,” Rob answered. Clayton looked intrigued.

  “Hello, Carol,” Bernie said as he let her in, locking the door behind her.

  Carol nodded. “Bernie.” She walked farther in, approaching Rob. “People look really lost out there. None of their cars work.”

  Bernie stepped in with the answer. “It was the damn Russians, I tell you. Hit us with an EMP.” He stopped and turned to Rob. “Isn’t that right, Rob?”

  Rob looked distracted, fiddling with his handheld. “I can say I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was an EMP. Where it came from, there’s no telling just yet.”

  Carol scoffed. Her blue blouse was darkened with sweat and her flimsy sandals didn’t look strong enough to make any kind of long distance walk to Nantucket city, where Rob knew she lived.

  “From what I’ve read, it’s much more likely that this was some kind of solar flare,” Carol said.

  Bernie threw his arms in the air, frustrated. “What are you talking about? Rob said it’s an EMP, and he’s the prepper expert here.”

  Carol was undeterred. “The idea that a nuclear electromagnetic pulse could disable vehicles and electronics is a myth. Why don’t you try reading about it? The most you’re looking at with an EMP is maybe a massive failure of power grids. NASA has already estimated that a solar flare, striking the earth from the sun, might hit within the next eleven years. How can you disregard that?”

  Bernie waved her away. “Ah, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And you do?” Clayton interjected.

  Rob latched the snaps of his backpack and scrutinized his three bickering guests. “Enough. I need to get moving. Just take what you need and get home to your families.”