by Mic Roland
Plan B: Revised
(Book 1 of the Siege of New Hampshire series)
by Mic Roland
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Plan B Revised
©2014 Wolf & Gypsy Design
All rights reserved.
* * *
To my wife, for all her patience and support,
And to my many pre-readers who helped knock off the rough edges and kept the characters from doing anything too incredibly stupid.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems, without permission from the copyright holder. Short excerpts by reviewers are permitted.
This book is a work of fiction. The names and characters are fictional. If anyone feels a character might be based upon them, they should perform this simple test: If the character behaves badly, or is sinister, it’s not you.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Trying to get out of town
Chapter 2: Good deed quagmire
Chapter 3: No room at the Inn
Chapter 4: A ride to the O.K. Corral
Chapter 5: New dawn, new direction
Chapter 6: For lack of easy options
Chapter 7: Thugs and Doom People
Chapter 8: Roadblocks
Chapter 9: Evasion and camping in the rain
Chapter 10: Kevin and the carjackers
Chapter 11: Escape into the void
Chapter 12: Captured as looters
Chapter 13: Deadly problem
Chapter 14: Walnut Hill and homecoming
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Chapter 1: Trying to get out of town
If movies and books were reliable guides, the collapse of modern civilization was supposed to come suddenly. A comet impact, a nuclear attack, or a giant lizard rising from the sea — it would be something that sent people running into the streets screaming. Square-jawed heroes with cool tactical gear would swashbuckle their way through all adversity, hot brass flying, against all odds.
Starting out quietly — as an inconvenience — was not the usual movie plot. Giant lizards sell better. They are not only more exciting, but have the added benefit of making it obvious which way to run.
Who runs screaming from an inconvenience? Most people just grumble and wait, assuming that things will return to normal. But what if “normal” does not return?
Martin pushed through the revolving door into the brightly lit lobby. Between the doors and the teller windows stood a woman holding brochures. Seeing Martin enter, her professional smile warmed slightly.
“Good morning,” she said in an official sing-song tone. “Welcome to Bank of Boston.”
“Hey. Hi, Susan.” Martin smiled back. “Not at your window this morning?”
“No. It’s my turn to work the lobby.” She held up her handful of brochures.
“I see the curls are back,” he said.
“What? Oh.” Susan looked down and reflexively pulled at her curly hair. “Yeah, I don’t like to straighten it too many times.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “The curls look good.”
Martin could see over Susan’s shoulder, one of the bank managers frowning at them from within his glass cubicle.
“I guess if you’re working the lobby, you won’t be taking my deposit this time.”
“Guess not. I’ve got another hour ‘on deck’ to go.”
Over Susan’s shoulder, Martin saw the frowning manager stand up quickly, and stride towards them. Martin plucked a brochure from the cluster in Susan’s hand.
“Was there some question here?” The manager said. Susan, startled at the sudden voice behind her, stepped aside. The manager looked back and forth from Martin to Susan: a schoolmaster on a mission to ferret out bad behavior. His smile carried a hint of menace.
“Actually, yes,” Martin answered calmly. He glanced down at the open brochure. A headline caught his eye — something about linking accounts. “Your employee, here, was just explaining to me about linking accounts. My firm has a corporate account with your bank…” Martin held up his deposit bag. “I thought I might, um…” His eye quickly scanned the brochure again. “… qualify for…one of your premium personal checking accounts. Is that right?”
The manager’s face quickly switched from angry schoolmaster to smooth maitre d’. “Oh? New accounts? Yes sir. I would be happy to assist you with that.” He held out his hand for Martin to shake.
“I’m Mr. Skinner, branch manager. Why don’t we step into my office?” Without looking away from Martin, the manager said over his shoulder, “I’ll take it from here, Ms Price. You may resume your duties.”
As the two men walked towards the glass cubicle, Martin glanced over Mr. Skinner’s shoulder. Susan mouthed the words “thank you” and gave a sympathetic little smile.
Halfway to the manager’s cubicle, the lights flickered a moment, then went off completely. A mixture of worried gasps and annoyed groans rose from the other cubicles. A pair of emergency lights popped on in the lobby corners, even though the room was well lit by morning light through tall windows.
Mr. Skinner stopped and looked up at dark ceiling fixtures for a few seconds. He cocked his head, expectantly. “Where’s that generator?” he muttered to himself.
“Um. Please excuse me, but I have some issues to attend to.” Martin gestured his approval. Mr. Skinner walked briskly towards the back room door. He impatiently poked at a keypad a few times with no results, then, fumbled with a ring full of keys.
Seeing the other tellers apologizing to their customers and the worried look of Mr. Skinner scurrying from teller to teller, Martin could tell he would not be making the deposit for awhile. He ambled back towards the front door with half a plan to return on his lunch hour. Susan glanced around, holding her brochures like a bouquet, looking unsure if she should stay at her lobby-greeter post or not.
“Looks like I won’t be talking with your Mr. Skinner, or making any deposits for awhile. Guess I’ll come back later when the power’s back on.”
“Sure. I hope it’s not out for too long.” They parted with smiles and shrugs.
Outside of the bank, State Street looked as it always did. Pedestrians walked toward their offices with briefcases, coffee cups or donut bags. The cars, delivery vans and cabs still flowed along, albeit slowly.
The traffic lights at State and Congress were dark, but the drivers were cooperating with each other, even negotiating left turns and cross flow. Boston drivers have a reputation for being rude, but that is usually towards outsiders who do not follow the unwritten rules. These drivers all seemed to know the rules and were making the best of it.
Further up State Street, beyond the traffic lights, stood mesh construction fences. Martin wondered if the work crew had severed a power cable. Workers in hardhats were slowly climbing up from their pit. They looked more annoyed than alarmed. If they had cut a power cable, they clearly did not realize it. As Martin walked back to his office, everything looked like a normal autumn morning in the city.
Nothing stood out as unusual in the lobby of Martin’s building either. Large windows always kept the small lobby bright. The elevator button did not light up when he pushed it. The floor indicator lights were dark too. Martin groaned. Is this dumb thing broken again? They just had it fixed. He noticed the two ceiling lights were out. Ah. Our building lost power too.
The old, narrow elevator was out of service almost more than it was in-service, so the trudge up the five flights of stairs was nothing new. The darkness in the stair well, however, was new. A soft glow from emergency lights at the third floor landing cast lon
g angular shadows. None of the other emergency lights had come on.
The fifth floor offices of EdLogix were twilight dim, even though it was 9:30 in the morning. Light from the small windows did not carry very far inside the old brick offices.
“Hey Brian,” Martin stood before his boss’s desk. “No deposit for now. The bank lost power. I see ours is out too…” Brian had not looked up or replied, but stared at his iPhone. Martin dropped the bank bag onto the desk. “Hellooo Brian.”
“Oh, sorry, what?” Brian pulled the ear buds out of his ears.
“Couldn’t do the deposit.” Martin pointed at the bag. “Bank lost power. Us too, I see. Wonder how long it will be out.”
Brian held up his phone. “I was listening to the news, hoping to find out what’s going on. WBZ was off the air for awhile, but they’re back on now. So far, no one knows much.”
“I’m wondering if it was that construction they’re doing up on State Street,” suggested Martin. “You know, workers cut something they shouldn’t have?”
“I don’t think so,” said Brian with a little shake of his head. “It’s bigger than just State Street. News is spotty so far, but it sounds like all of Boston is out.” He tapped at his phone and studied the screen.
“BostonDotCom was listing neighborhoods affected, which was most of them. But they haven’t updated for over 10 minutes. CNN’s got nothin’. FoxNews said there’s power outages in New York and DC. Tweets have been rolling in like crazy.”
Martin took out his phone and pulled up his feeds. “Hmm. I’m getting them too.”
City of Manchester NH@Manchester_NH: Serious traffic delays due to power outage. Avoid downtown. #manchtraffic
WMUR TV@wmur9: State budget meeting postponed. Power out in Concord. #nhbudgetmeeting
Professor Calhoun@HistoryCzar15: Cultures 101 test postponed. Exeter Academy closed due to power outage. #peahistory
“Looks like parts of New Hampshire are out too. We must be having another good ol’ fashioned New England power grid failure.” Martin sighed.
Brian was still looking at his phone. “I’m getting some retweets from my brother. Lincoln Park is out, Englewood. Shedd Aquarium, Near North Side. So this extends out to Chicago too? Oh, now something from St. Louis. Check out the hashtag #outage.”
Martin tapped that in and scanned the feeds as they quickly scrolled down his screen. Most were the inane reactions of the clueless, with little useful news.
Jared Dunkel @ShowMeCity54: St. Louis trying to save on elect. bill? Laaame! #outage
Chad Inumbral @ChadsBaltimore: What’s going on with the lights? #outage #wantmypowerback
Rebecca Sophia @BeccaInBedford: Hey, No power!! Seriously!? I’m missing my shows!!! Someone will pay! #outage #noTV
One tweet caught Martin’s eye as he scrolled.
Southwest Airlines @SouthwestAir: Due to #outage, SWA offices and website temporarily offline. We hope to be back online soon. #southwest
“Southwest is offline?” Martin said. “Their headquarters is in Dallas. Weren’t you saying Texas is a whole other power grid from us?”
“Yes it is,” said Brian. “So, this is something bigger than just another one of our usual Northeast blackout things.”
“You were talking about EMPs a couple weeks ago. Think that’s what it was?” Martin asked.
Brian shook his head. “I thought that at first too, but I don’t think so now. I mean, a burst big enough to take down that much of the power grid should have totally fried delicate stuff like our cellphones. But they’re working fine.”
“A solar flare then? I see some tweeters out there think it was a solar storm.”
Brian shook his head and shrugged. “That would only fry stuff that was plugged in, but my phone was plugged in. There’s no scorching, or signs of a surge. This is more like when an ice storm takes down power lines, but without the ice.”
Martin pocketed his phone. “Anything this widespread doesn’t sound like it’ll be back online in an hour or two. What do you want to do about the Madison proposal. It’s due Friday.”
Brian tilted back in his creaky chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “I know. I know. We’re actually in pretty good shape on Madison. Without power, no server, router or internet, it’s not like we can do much around here today. I already told Amy and Shree they could go home. You should go too. We’ll see how things look tomorrow.“
“Sounds good. I’ve got my sections of the proposal on my laptop. I can finish them up tonight. We can merge it all together tomorrow morning. I’ll just go get my stuff and catch an earlier bus.”
At his desk, Martin picked up his desk phone to call home. No dial tone. He felt stupid at forgetting so quickly. Force of habit, he comforted himself. He tried his cell phone, but all he could get was the “All circuits are busy” message. He tapped out a quick text message home.
“Mon.9:30.Pwr out in Bos. Office closed. Going 2 get bus.”
The screen said “Message Sent,” but he wondered if Margaret would get it. At least the voice call’s “all circuits busy” recording was a clear-cut failure. Text messages were more like notes in bottles. Who knew when — or if — they ever washed ashore?
He began shoving his laptop into his messenger bag, but stopped.
Wait. What if there are no busses? He remembered a previous long and fruitless wait for busses that never came.
He plopped back into his chair and blew out a long breath through pursed lips.
If there are no busses, I might have to resort to Plan B. Better take the other bag, just in case.
He pulled a scruffy gray backpack from under his side table. A quick inventory confirmed what he already knew: his Plan B bag was not ready. There were extra clothes, a rain poncho, some basic first aid tidbits and miscellaneous small camping items, etc. The water bottle was there, but the energy bars had long ago fallen victim to snack attacks and never been replaced. If he caught a bus, the energy bars would not be missed. But if he could not get a bus? Fifty miles was a long way to walk on an empty stomach.
He shook his head to dismiss the thought. He told himself he would not have to walk. That was simply a remote possibility: a Plan B. He wanted to believe that the day’s worst-case scenario would be a tediously long bus ride. He assured himself he would be home by dark.
Martin slid his laptop between the clothes in the backpack and traded in his leather business shoes for a pair of worn sneakers. In the office fridge, he scrounged up a bagel, leftover from their client meeting the Friday before. It was a bit dry, but there were no mold spots yet, so he stuffed it in the backpack.
It could be a long bus ride. He was avoiding thinking about the alternative.
“Guess I’m on my way, Brian,” said Martin. “See you tomorrow, hopefully.”
“Eh, maybe, maybe not.” Brian pointed to his phone. “Getting unconfirmed reports that London might be down too.”
“Whoa.” The news impressed Martin, but he did not let it sink in very deep. He had a bus to catch. “Well, one day at a time. Let’s touch base tomorrow and see how things are then. Get that Madison thing all buttoned up. I’ll call you in the morning. Take it easy, Brian.”
“Yeah, I will. Be careful out there.”
When Martin stepped back out into the bright of day, the city looked different. The sidewalks were full of people. Most of them stood motionless, looking at their phones. They reminded Martin of an old sci-fi movie where the army of invading robots all stopped in their tracks for lack of instructions because the hero had destroyed the mother ship.
Those not staring at phones milled around in small groups, talking, like they did when a fire alarm emptied a building. In this case, it appeared to be every building. Some chatted together, but most were tapping on, or staring at their phones. A few looked like they were talking to someone.
Did they get a connection? Martin tried his phone again. The same circuits-busy message played.
As he made his way through Liberty S
quare, he heard a familiar loud voice over the murmurings of the crowds.
“Spare Change Nee-ews. Only a dolla. Help da homeless help demselves.” On the steps in his usual archway, stood a wrinkled old man with a Popeye face and white walrus mustache.
“Hey Tony.” Martin called out and waved. “Where ya been?”
“Hey pard’ner. Yeah. Had to take a few days off. My hip was killin’ me.” Tony held out his plastic cup and armful of newspapers. “But I’m back in the saddle, so to speak. Paper mister?”
Martin slid a five dollar bill into the cup and took a paper. Tony nodded his thanks, then waved his cup at the crowds. “Heck of a crazy show goin’ on today, eh? Lookee all these people.”
“Yeah,” Martin said, suppressing an impish smile. “What did you do, Tony? Pull some fire alarms to get more customers on your sidewalk?”
“Wha? No. I never even…” Tony’s eyes flared wide, but then squinted from a broad grin hidden beneath the mustache. “Aw, ya got me dat time. Heh, no, but that’s a good idear. Have to remember me that for later. Nah, these folks ain’t in a buyin’ sorta mood. All nervous nellies. Guess power’s out in all these buildings ‘round here. Heard there’s people trapped in elevators in that tall glass one over there. This one over here had a generator going for awhile up on the roof, but something went kablooie.” He pointed to a roof across the square where a ribbon of black smoke trailed up over the cornice.
Tony pointed to the left. “People from that brick one there were talking about folks in wheelchairs trapped up on the ninth floor. No elevators, ya see. A bunch of them young lawyer types from over in that other building just went in to carry ‘em down the stairs. I might have to stop doin’ my weekly lawyer jokes. Them guys are alright.”
“So, Tony.” Martin said. “Sounds like this crazy show isn’t just around here, but all over. You gonna be okay? I mean, with the outage and all?”
