Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

by Vincent Keith

  SOLAR STORM

  HOMEWARD BOUND

  VINCENT KEITH

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental. Geographical locations may be real but may not exist as described.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form printed or digital, or any form as yet unknown, without permission in writing from the author, except as defined by fair use.

  Solar Storm

  Copyright © 4/4/14 by Vincent Keith Binder

  Photo Cover Art:

  © NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: unassigned

  ISBN-13: unassigned

  Last Revision: October 19, 2017

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. Lights Out

  2. Gearing Up

  3. Strays and Bad Men

  4. Campfire Stories

  5. Shifting Perspectives

  6. A Fork in the Road

  7. Road Trip

  8. Shared Reality

  9. Survival School

  10. Going to Town

  11. Nothing but Bad News

  12. Northward Bound

  13. Making Tracks

  14. Goose Down Inn

  15. Friendship and More

  16. Old Friends

  17. School Again

  18. Crashed

  19. A Whole New Life

  20. Missed Connections

  21. High Desert

  22. Small Towns

  23. Descent

  24. Pendleton

  25. Restoring History

  26. Good News, Bad News

  27. Waking Up

  28. Back to Work

  29. Plans

  30. Volunteer Army

  31. The Battle of Pendleton

  32. Picking Up the Pieces

  33. Grand Opening

  34. A Good Man

  35. Gift Horses

  36. Unexpected Company

  37. Threading the Needle

  38. Crossing the Bridge

  39. Cannibals? Are You Sure?

  40. Rescue Mission

  41. Hazardous Waste

  42. Strangers in the Night

  43. Breaking Trail

  44. Grand Coulee

  45. Refugees

  46. Delays

  47. Surprises Suck

  48. Regrouping

  49. The Cavalry

  50. Home Again, Home Again

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing is a weird occupation. It is solitary, and yet difficult to do without the support of others. There seem to be as many approaches to the task as there are authors. Along the way, I’ve had encouragement from many people. The kind of encouragement that may have made the difference between finishing or not.

  I can only hope that I’ve done justice to those folks who took the time to read what I’ve written and provide feedback. The most difficult type of feedback to give an author is brutal honesty, and yet it is the one thing that an author needs most. Thanks to their efforts, I know this work is better now than it was when I first ‘finished’ it.

  My friends Mark, Kimberly, and Dana provided encouragement and feedback from the early unfinished drafts and kept me from giving it up. It’s difficult to read unfinished and rough work but they did it and the feedback made the story better. I’d also like to thank my neighbors Chris and Eva who dove in for rounds two and three, and also helped to make the story better. And a big thank-you to Loren Foster, who provided timely and much-needed proofreading. Finally, a very special thanks to two Retired U.S. Army Rangers, Alex and Anton - Hooah!

  These people also made me a better writer, at least better than I was. Any errors that remain are mine; they were mine to start with, and they’ll stay mine until they’re gone.

  Thank you, one and all.

  For my Parents, RIP.

  PROLOGUE

  A gigantic loop of glowing plasma stretched out from the surface of the sun, three times the distance from the Earth to the Moon. It was broad enough to thread a planet through the eye with room to spare. Plasma danced and gyrated above the chaos of the sun's surface, fluid and graceful like a masterpiece of kinetic sculpture. Below the churning surface, swirling lines of magnetic force held the prominence of glowing plasma captive to the sun.

  Inevitably, they crossed paths and connected like the tying of a knot. The crossing of lines severed the loop's connection to the Sun as if tying the knot had snapped the strings holding it in place. An explosive surge launched the plasma toward the edge of the solar system and beyond.

  The coronal mass ejection—CME—was the largest since man walked the face of the Earth. Eleven minutes later, the sun flared again pushing the second storm of X-ray radiation and charged particles toward the edge of the solar system. The storms would arrive in waves. First would be the X-rays traveling at the speed of light, which would reach the Earth in just over eight minutes. Ionized plasma particles of the CME were much slower and yet seventy-five times faster than any object ever made by man. The first would reach the third planet in only nine hours. The second, smaller and slower, would reach the Earth in fourteen hours.

  TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND miles above the surface was the domain of the highest flyers in the catalog of objects circling the earth. The high energy X-rays blasted through the outer orbits, and the civilian satellites died in a flash of ionized circuits. Several of the Russian communication and American early warning satellites survived the onslaught by switching to secondary systems. The newer NSA spy satellites fared a little better.

  Unhindered, the X-ray storm reached High Earth Orbit, home to the geostationary satellites needed for communications, weather, and solar weather monitoring. These satellites occupied a fixed position above the earth and shared a thin shell twenty-two thousand miles above the surface. There was not enough atmosphere to dampen the high-energy X-rays. The radiation hardening which had been so effective in the past failed under the unprecedented and massive onslaught of first one storm then another. Delicate components failed, damaging circuits and causing systems to shut down or malfunction. Secondary systems, when possible, came online only to be hammered minutes later by the second X-ray storm.

  Closer to Earth, the GPS satellites took their share of damage. Few of the thirty satellites that made up the US-run GPS system survived the first X-ray storm, and fewer still survived the second. The atmosphere prevented almost all the X-rays from reaching the surface, but the damage to the satellites had broad-reaching effects to various Earthbound systems. Alarms sounded on sea-going vessels and aircraft as navigation systems went offline. Communication suffered wide-scale interruptions. Mankind had their warning of the incoming CME.

  TRAVELING at a blistering 3,000 miles per second and pushed on by the solar winds, the first CME reached the Earth. The assault by the highly charged particles of the CME tore the Earth’s magnetosphere to shreds. Invisible lines of magnetic force twisted, stretched and snapped. Colossal fluctuations in the magnetosphere generated massive electrical currents in wires, cables, pipelines and rail lines. Some of the satellites that had survived the X-ray storm died as tremendous surges of current melted circuitry and wires.

  On Earth, the huge fluctuations in electrical current overloaded systems, destroying transmission lines and the transformers that connected the high voltage, long distance power grid to local systems. Surges ripped through power grids around the world. Transformers explode
d in showers of sparks and smoke. Power lines melted and snapped, igniting fires. Some fires would die for lack of fuel. Others would grow to engulf thousands of acres, and several would claim cities.

  The immense electric currents generated by the geomagnetic storm caused natural gas pipelines to explode taking production plants with them. Rail lines twisted and buckled, derailing trains and killing thousands.

  Nine hours proved to be too little time for massive government bureaucracies to respond. Bureaucrats argued about the political costs of shutting down all flights until it was too late. Aircraft dependent on electronics to control their flight failed. Only a few aircraft would recover enough control to land. Most would not, and tens of thousands of passengers died. The resulting explosions and fires killed tens of thousands more. Only the military aircraft, some hardened against the effects of nuclear war, remained in the skies.

  Electric lights flickered and died. From space, cities, which once glowed like the constellations in the night sky, vanished in darkness. The only light remaining was that of burning towns, fields, and forests. From the ground, the night sky was lit by the chaotic dance of the Aurora. An Aurora that would be the only light in the night for days and months to come. Tens of thousands fled their homes as wildfires raged unchecked. They headed to the perceived safety of towns, safety that no longer existed. Darkness reigned where once there had been light, and predators sensing the change came forth.

  Local, state and federal emergency services buried under an avalanche of disasters large and small couldn't keep up. Their communications and transportation in shambles, they simply could not respond.

  Most governments viewed the loss of communications and the inability to see what was happening in the world with trepidation. For others, it was an opportunity. Chaos, ever-present yet lurking around the edges of civilization, asserted itself once more in the governance of man's affairs.

  LIGHTS OUT

  Pain lanced through Jack’s head like an ice pick to the ears, sharp and sudden. The screaming howl of an air-raid siren mixed with fingernails o`n a blackboard screeched from the speakers. From the back seat, two dogs added their howling to the cacophony, pushing the sound level from painful to ear shattering. His left hand clenched the steering wheel; his right threatened to crush the coffee mug he was holding.

  Reeling from the aural assault, Jack let out his own inarticulate howl of agony. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes closed in response to the pain in his head. He struggled to open them, fighting the impulse let go of the wheel and cover his ears.

  Forty miles per hour on the well-maintained dirt road had seemed reasonable a moment ago. Now, it was way too fast. Jack stepped on the brake and felt it pulsing under foot, but the anti-lock brake system had its own problems. No matter how hard Jack pushed on the pedal nothing happened. He gave up on the brakes. What little focus he could muster went to keeping the truck on the road and out of the trees.

  Five seconds after the agonizing sound began, it cut off in a shower of sparks. Smoke flowed through vents and from under the dash. It rose quickly and obscured the windshield. Without warning, the brakes grabbed at the rear wheels as if they had a mind of their own and were determined to do the opposite of what Jack wanted. The rear wheels locked for a second and a half. It was enough to cause the truck to lose grip in the back and it skidded sideways on the gravel. Jack spun the wheel to counter the skid. The coffee mug slipped through his fingers, bounced off the rim of the steering wheel and emptied into his lap.

  “Oh, shit!”

  As Jack pulled the steaming coffee-soaked pants away from his seared skin, the engine bucked and died. The steering wheel jerked hard to the right as the power steering failed. He gave up on the pants and fought to point the truck to the side of the road. The wheel was stiff and unresponsive and he had to twist hard to move it. Rocks banged against the undercarriage. The thick gravel at the edge of the road grabbed at the tires and twisted the steering wheel in his wet hands. The dogs slid across the backseat slamming against the door as the truck veered hard to the right. In a final fit of self-determination, the ABS computer locked all four wheels. Sliding sideways the truck bumped against a tree and came to an abrupt stop.

  Thick, acrid smoke continued to pour from the dash, stinging his eyes and burning his sinuses. It filled the cab, obscuring his vision. Fumes tickled his throat and triggered a fit of coughing. Jack fumbled with the safety belt in a rush to get out of the truck. He stumbled out of the vehicle and doubled over as a deeper, throat-tearing fit of coughing shook every bone in his body. Jack gasped for air and coughed again. A quick shallow breath was all he could manage.

  He pushed himself up and reached into the truck. His fingers closed on a bottle sitting between the seats. As he stepped back from the truck, Jack stumbled over an unseen root and landed on his ass. His breath exploded from his lungs, and he gasped for air. Another bout of coughing stole what little air he’d inhaled. Jack downed half the bottle, took a tentative breath and a second swallow. He sipped again, swishing it around before spitting it on the ground. He coughed, clearing his throat. The third swallow of water was enough to ease his raw throat but did nothing to wash away the flavor of burnt plastic, vinyl, and copper.

  As he regained his feet, Jack pulled at the wet jeans and winced at the pain from his scalded flesh. He wiped the soot from his eyes, blinked a few times and wiped them again. The red and white of a stop sign caught his eye. The intersection of the dirt road and California-139 was a hundred yards ahead. Two or three minutes longer and he would have been on the highway doing sixty when the truck’s electronics melted. The thought sent a shiver up Jack’s spine and down his arms.

  With luck, the cell phone would have enough signal to call for help. The closest town, Susanville, was ten miles south on CA-139. It would be a long walk in the dark. Smoke trickling from under the hood pulled his attention away from thoughts of phones and towns to the more immediate problem.

  The dogs, still trapped in the truck, whined and danced around on the back seat. Jack yelled their names, getting their attention. Hoover stuck his nose between the front seat and the open door searching for fresh air. Dusty pawed at the window.

  Jack pulled opened the rear door. “Sorry, I should have let you out sooner.”

  Two huge white dogs jumped out. Dusty pushed Hoover in her rush to escape. Hoover made a half-hearted attempt to snap at her, then shook himself and sneezed. Jack gave each dog a quick pat. Freed from the confines of the backseat, the two dogs wandered off to sniff around, curious about the new surroundings.

  The smoke coming from the dash slowed to a trickle. Most of the insulation had burnt away leaving only melted blobs of smoldering plastic. Jack grabbed the fire extinguisher from the holder under the back seat and hung it from the half open side window. If a fire flared up, an extinguisher at hand was better than one inside a burning vehicle.

  Jack popped the hood before walking to the front. His fingers stretched out under the gap, found the hidden latch and pushed. He lifted the hood and stepped back as a cloud of smoke and steam billowed out, hot and wet with an acrid tang. The ticking of cooling steel and a sizzling sound, like water on a hot skillet mixed with the ringing in his ears. The ringing in his ears made it difficult discern the source of the sounds.

  When the steam cleared away, he saw liquid drip from the hood onto the hot engine. The source of the sizzling sound was no longer a mystery. As he leaned forward, he caught a strong whiff of rotten eggs. The various hoses showed no leaks. He continued searching until he saw the spot where the battery had been. Chunks of plastic rested where once there had been a whole battery. Jack’s gaze tracked back to the dripping hood.

  “Battery acid… Oh perfect, that’s just perfect.” Jack sighed in disgust.

  He closed the hood not wanting to look at the mess any longer. Jack walked around the truck looking for other damage. The brief examination showed no other obvious signs of trouble. There was a dent in the passenger side door whe
re the truck rested against a small pine tree, but it was minor.

  A shorted battery might cause the electrical systems to burn out, shorting the computer that controlled the ABS brakes, frying the radio, and melting the insulation off the wires. It explained everything. Everything except what had caused the battery to short out and explode.

  Jack walked to the back of the truck and popped the hatch on the canopy. The small messenger bag contained several essential or useful items, pocket knife, flashlight, pens, notepad, and dozens of other small items he used every day. He slid the phone from the front pocket and hit the home button. Nothing happened. He tried holding the power button, still nothing.

  “I swear I charged it last night. Crap, this is not good.”

  Jack tossed the phone back into the bag, dropped the tailgate and climbed onto it. A quick tug pulled a medium sized backpack from further back. He unzipped it and pulled out the laptop. He opened it, but it didn’t turn on. Tapping keys and clicking the touchpad also failed to wake the machine. Jack pushed the power button, holding it to force a reboot. Again, nothing happened.

  A nagging suspicion caused him to reach for his camera. He twisted the power switch to the on position, again with no result. Jack opened the battery compartment and swapped what he was sure was a good battery with one he’d charged last night. The camera still wouldn’t turn on. Jack fiddled with the camera as his thoughts coalesced into a theory.

  Jack’s ass hit the tailgate like a sack of potatoes.

  “Oh, shit.” He sat in stunned silence as his mind worked through the theory.

  Dusty cocked her head and watched Jack, waiting. Jack reached out to scratch her ears as he considered various possibilities.

  The chill from coffee-soaked jeans brought him back from his chaotic thoughts. His hand was resting on Dusty’s head.

  “When did you get up here?”

  Dusty was resting on the tailgate with her head placed in easy reach. Jack had been petting the dog for a while without realizing it. The sun had set hours ago, and he was cold and damp.