The Final Homestead: EMP Survival In A Powerless World

by Hunt, James

  The Final Homestead

  James Hunt

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  51. One year later

  Copyright 2019 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

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  1

  “Pete, you have to give me a better price than that.” The sound of boot heels paced the hallway in front of the pharmacy of the San Antonio’s Children Medical Center. “You and I have always had a good relationship, and that’s why I told you I didn’t have a problem with the verbal agreement.”

  Mary Bowers was thirty-three, her jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She had olive skin and a pair of stunningly green eyes that sat between clusters of freckles on her high cheekbones. She wore a light blue blouse that flowed down over blue jeans tucked into worn and dusty boots.

  “No, Pete.” Mary stood her ground. The man was always looking for a bargain, and while he was one of their ranch’s biggest buyers, he was slipperier to deal with than his father. She sandwiched the phone between her cheek and her shoulder and reached into her purse to find the notes she had written down for the call. “It was four dollars a pound, not three.”

  A pair of nurses walked by, one of them pressing a finger to her lips, hushing Mary on her way past.

  Mary covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Sorry.” She walked closer to the wall, trying to keep her voice down.

  “Fine. If you don’t want to honor our agreement, then I’ll give Charles Mathers a call and see if he’ll be interested.” Charles was Pete’s biggest competitor, and the only reason Pete hadn’t gone belly up was his business with Bowers Ranch.

  Mary smiled, and Pete’s stubbornness melted away like butter on a hot roll. “I’ll be on the lookout for the paperwork this afternoon. Always a pleasure, Pete.” She hung up, rolling her eyes as she pocketed her phone.

  “Mrs. Bowers?” A young woman in a long white coat two sizes too big held up a paper bag from behind the pharmacy’s counter.

  Mary walked over, grabbing her wallet from her purse to show her RX card. “Sorry if I was too loud.”

  “It’s fine.” The young woman smiled kindly as she took the card, typing its information into her computer. “This place is always loud, but people seem to only enjoy their own noise.” She winked at Mary and handed her RX card back. “You’re all set. Do you have any questions about the medications?”

  “No,” Mary said, cramming the paper bags into her purse. “It’s not my first rodeo. Thanks.”

  With her prescription filled, Mary hurried down the hallway and returned to the children’s surgical ward, where she found her son Jake still reading in the waiting room.

  Mary sat next to Jake, brushing some bangs out of her eyes that had broken loose from her ponytail.

  “Is everything all right?” Jake remained focused on his book and turned the page of the flimsy paperback, the spine crinkled from its folded position.

  Jake Bowers was only twelve, but going on forty. The boy had gone through more hardship in his young life than most people would experience in two lifetimes. He had the same dirty blond hair as his father, but Mary’s green eyes. He was in the middle of a growth spurt and Mary knew that by next year, she would be the one looking up at him during their conversations.

  Mary rubbed her eyes. “Oh, you know, just feeding the world, one head of cattle at a time.” She dropped her hands. “Unless you’re a vegetarian.”

  “Or a vegan,” Jake said, still reading.

  Mary smirked, and then moved her son’s hands so she could read the title of his book. She arched her eyebrows. “The Rainmaker? When did you start reading John Grisham?”

  Jake pulled the book away from his mother’s reach. “Since the library sent me the wrong book by mistake.” He settled back into his chair and continued reading. “He’s not bad.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be relieved to hear it.” Mary checked the time on her phone and grimaced. “Have any of the nurses come out yet?”

  “Nope.”

  Mary sighed, leaning her head back. “It’s already been an hour.”

  “Maybe they’re upgrading me to the premium operating room,” Jake said, feigning elation.

  “Hey.” Mary covered the page Jake was reading with her palm, forcing her son’s eyes to meet her own. “I still get three more months before you become a snarky teenager. That’s the deal.”

  Jake shrank in his seat. “Sorry.”

  Caught between the worlds of child and man, Jake leaned his head against Mary’s shoulder. She could tell that he was worried. Having gone through this dozens of times already, she would have thought they’d be used to it by now. But when it came to his condition, there was never anything routine.

  “What’s that?” Jake asked.

  “Hmm?” Mary frowned when she saw the top of the prescription bag sprouting from her purse. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She quickly shoved it down and zipped the compartment. “Something for your dad.”

  Mary wasn’t in the habit of lying to her son, but before Jake could ask any more questions, a nurse stepped into the waiting room, staring at the clipboard in her hands.

  “Jake Bowers?”

  “Finally,” Mary said.

  The nurse was an older woman, short and round, with a head of grey hair that had just been permed. She quickly scribbled something down on her clipboard, never looking up as she turned back toward the hallway. “Follow me, please.”

  Mary kept her arm around Jake as they passed into the surgical unit, the pair of double doors flapping back and forth after they entered.

  “Room seventeen. Change, and the doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse placed a file in the folder by the door and then disappeared, still navigating the hallways without ever looking up.

  Mary stepped toward the door, but Jake blocked her path. She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Jake rubbed his arm and folded into himself, his changing body providing the awkward angles of puberty. “It’s just…” He finally looked up. “I wanted to go in alone this time.”

  “Oh.” Mary arched her eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, sure.”

  “
I just think it would be good for me to handle it by myself,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “Now that I’m getting older.”

  “I understand.” Mary smiled and then kissed the top of Jake’s head. “I love you.”

  Jake smiled, but he no longer resembled the boy she drove here this morning. “I love you too, Mom.”

  The door shut, and Mary lingered in the hallway. She knew that it was normal for him to want his independence, but that didn’t lessen the sting.

  Mary returned to the waiting room where more families had arrived. Most of the chatter in the waiting room was a combination of nervous whispers, casual conversations, and the news from the television hoisted in the right-hand corner near the ceiling.

  You could always spot the regulars with their calm demeanor who had learned to pass the time by reading or watching videos on their laptops.

  Newcomers always fidgeted in their seats. Nothing held their attention for long, and their search for a distraction only worsened their anxiety.

  Mary found an empty seat next to a woman who sat with her purse clutched in her lap, knee bouncing a mile a minute.

  The woman was young, pretty, dressed in a faded print skirt with polka dots and a white blouse that exposed her pale and freckled shoulders. Her hair was a mess, tied up in a bun that rested on the very top of her head with a ‘leaning-tower-of-Pisa’ attitude. A string of sleepless nights had made their mark beneath her eyes, and she had twisted a packet of tissues to the point of tearing.

  Having been in that same seat before, Mary wanted to help. “Boy or girl?”

  The young mother arched her eyebrows and froze. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your patient,” Mary answered. “Boy or girl?”

  “Oh.” The woman exhaled, and a little color returned to her cheeks as she smiled. “Girl.”

  “How old?” Mary asked.

  “Two.”

  Mary nodded. “It’s always hard to bring them here. Especially when they’re that little. I’m Mary.”

  The young mother released the tight twisted spiral of tissues and clasped Mary’s hand firmly. “Kelly.” She relaxed a little when she let go and returned the crumpled tissues to her purse as she leaned back, mirroring Mary’s posture.

  “I’m waiting on my son,” Mary said.

  “Is it serious?” Kelly asked.

  “It can be, but he has a mild case of AVS.” Mary rolled her thumb against the pages of Jake’s novel, and then explained more when she saw the confusion on Kelly’s face. “Aortic valve stenosis. It’s a genetic heart condition. It causes blood to clog in his heart chambers. Every six months he needs to have a procedure done to drain the blood to relieve pressure.”

  Kelly frowned. “That must be so hard having to come in here so frequently.”

  Mary nodded, staring at her purse, remembering that first day with her son, and how instead of holding him, he was placed in the ICU until he was strong enough to be taken home. “You want to protect them from everything when they’re little. But no amount of baby books can prepare you for that unexpected speech from your doctor after nine hours of labor explaining to you that they’re doing everything they can to keep your child alive.”

  Kelly was quiet for a moment, only nodding along, but then fell into the rhythm of conversation. “Iris, my daughter, kept getting sick, so we took her to our family physician. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong so they had some blood work drawn. Her white blood cell count was practically non-existent. They’re not sure if it’s cancer, but we’re waiting on the test results and—” The tears came quickly, and she covered her mouth to muffle her whimper.

  Mary instinctively reached for Kelly’s hand, squeezing tight, the young mother reciprocating the embrace of strength.

  A few eyes glanced their way, each of them with varying expressions of empathy. Everyone here had reached the breaking point at one time or another.

  After a minute, Kelly regained her composure, making use of the crinkled tissue package as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, love,” Mary said. “I hope that the news is good, or at least as good as it can be in a place like this.”

  “Kelly Ronan?” A nurse entered, holding a blue folder and staring directly at Kelly. “We’re ready for you.”

  Kelly exhaled, her breath trembling as she gathered her purse and stood, Mary rising with her. “Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around Mary’s neck and squeezed.

  “Hang in there, mamma,” Mary said.

  Kelly let go and followed the nurse out of the waiting room. Once Kelly was out of eyeshot, Mary sat down and bowed her head, quietly praying for the young mother and her little girl to be cancer free, and if not, then to have the strength to bear what came next.

  Mary opened her eyes, the hospital still buzzing with activity, and in the next instance the world went dark, bringing with it a stunned silence.

  No lights, no hum of A/C, no chatter of patients or staff or visitors. The waiting room had transformed into a dark hole of which there was no escape, and Mary would float aimlessly for the rest of her life.

  But the silence lasted only for a moment, broken by panicked voices that ricocheted around the darkness

  “What was that?”

  “The power’s out.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “My phone’s not working.”

  “What is going on?”

  Mary remained seated, processing her surroundings. Blind, she fumbled her fingers into her purse until she felt the outline of her phone. She pressed the power button, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach, anchoring her in her chair while she heard others shuffling around in the darkness.

  Mary dropped her phone back into her purse and then removed a hand-powered kinetic flashlight. She squeezed the handle on the side, and light flooded the waiting room, blinding anyone within range.

  “Everyone, just remain calm.” Mary stood and maneuvered her way to the hallway. “Find a nurse, locate your family member, and if they can leave the hospital, then do it as quickly as possible.”

  A slew of questions followed Mary out the door, but she didn’t stop to explain. Every second counted now.

  Mary passed through the double doors of the surgical unit, the scene chaotic as nurses and doctors scrambled to save patients crippled by the loss of the power.

  “All operating rooms are dark, I’ve got twelve kids on the table right now, and the doctors are blind.”

  “All life support in the ICU is offline, we need as many nurses there for CPR that we can spare.”

  “I need a crash cart in room twelve!”

  Mary hastened her pace, finding Jake’s room, and she shouldered the door open. She found her son still dressed in his regular clothes, holding his hands up to block the light.

  “Thank God.” Mary lowered the light and hugged her son.

  “What’s going on?” Jake asked.

  Mary held his face, keeping him still. “Do you remember the rendezvous location where we’re supposed to meet your father if something happens when we’re separated?”

  Jake nodded.

  “That’s where we’re going,” Mary said, her voice teetering on the edge of panic. “It’s going to be very chaotic when we leave the hospital, but we need to keep moving forward. We don’t stop for anything, and we always stay together. Got it?”

  “Y-yeah,” Jake answered, his voice dry. “Stay together. Always.”

  Mary fisted a bunch of Jake’s hair and then kissed his forehead. “Don’t let go of my hand, and keep close.”

  Mary led them from the room. Beyond the beam of the flashlight, screams echoed from deeper in the building, the cries growing more horrific the longer the hospital was engulfed in darkness.

  Eventually, windows provided enough sunlight for her to pocket the flashlight. Pushing her way through the crowded hallways, she found the stairwell, which was already packed with people on a mass exodus
toward the first floor.

  The river of bodies on the staircase flowed in both directions, people either fighting to get out, or fighting to go deeper in search of their loved ones. Mary and Jake hugged the walls, avoiding the worst of the foot traffic. One misstep and both of them could be trampled.

  “Mom, what’s going on?” Jake asked, struggling to keep up.

  “We just need to keep moving,” Mary answered.

  Both she and her husband James had talked about something like this, how the world could be flipped upside down with the snap of a finger. And if this was what she thought it was, then things were going to get worse.

  When Mary and Jake reached the bottom of the stairwell, she shouldered open the door that led them to the outside, their senses bombarded by the harsh light and heat of summer.

  And while Mary couldn’t see, it was what she didn’t hear that confirmed her fears.

  The normal sounds of city life, the cars, the horns, the hum of power lines and the chatter of folks on phones, all of it had vanished. And when her vision adjusted to the sunlight, Mary’s heart skipped a beat.

  The cars along the highway nearby were gridlocked. Motorists were outside of their vehicles, scratching their heads at why everything had suddenly come to a stop.

  The folks in the hospital parking lot stared at their blank phones, whispering to one another in concern.

  “Mom?” Jake asked, still concerned. “What’s going on?”