Cut Off [Part 1]

by Perrin Briar

  “I already have,” Mrs. Cairns said. “At least, I tried to. But the phones are dead.”

  Michelle was surprised Mrs. Cairns had actually taken things into her own hands until she realized about now was the time of her favorite daytime soap opera. She would do anything for those awful shows.

  “Did you use a cell?” Michelle said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Cairns said. “Still no good.”

  “Let me try mine,” Michelle said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She entered her bedroom to fetch her phone. The moment she picked it up she noticed the screen was black. Perhaps it wasn’t charged? She picked the cell up. The charger cable was still attached to it.

  She returned to the living room.

  “That’s odd,” she said. “Maybe the charger is broken?”

  “Everything’s off,” Mrs. Cairns said.

  “What do you mean?” Michelle said.

  “The machines and computers,” Mrs. Cairns said. “All the electronic stuff. None of them work now. I went downstairs to speak with Aisha. None of her stuff works either. I even went outside to check. There isn’t a single light on in any of the other buildings.”

  “Hmm,” Michelle said. “The whole town must have lost power. Or a single grid, or however they organize these things. That’s happened before, right? But usually it’s when there’s a big storm…”

  Mrs. Cairns shook her head.

  “There was no storm,” she said. “It’s a very nice day.”

  “Maybe a transformer blew or something?” Michelle said.

  She wasn’t really aware of what a transformer was or what it did, but she knew it had something to do with generating electricity.

  Mrs. Cairns shook her head.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I am concerned. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  Michelle wasn’t sure what to think. She was beginning to get anxious too.

  “This is really strange,” she said. “How about the radio?”

  Mrs. Cairns shook her head again.

  “Honestly, I tried everything,” she said. “Nothing works. Like all the other machines. My father always said these devices wouldn’t save us.”

  “Wait,” Michelle said. “Can you hear that? Something outside. A car?”

  They stopped speaking and listened intently.

  Michelle moved to the window. She edged her blinds aside to look at the parking lot. Most of the cars had already gone for the day. Most of the local residents were at work. Her own car was still there, a beaten up old Honda Accord with dents adorning every inch. It was fifteen years old if it was a day. They were the only wheels Michelle could afford with her modest waitressing earnings.

  The sound of the car engine approaching was clear, but Michelle couldn’t make anything out yet. Beneath the sound was something odd that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Bigger than a normal car engine, she thought.

  “Someone’s coming,” Michelle said.

  “Shh,” Mrs. Cairns said.

  A truck pulled onto the parking lot. It didn’t have the appearance of any truck Michelle had ever seen before. It was military, painted a solid shade of green, not camouflage. Two or three men stood in the front cab. Another man manned the huge gun turret on the top.

  Michelle gasped. She’d never seen anything like it on United States streets. Once, she went on a trip to Mexico for spring break. The police there drove around in large pickup trucks with guns mounted on the back like these. But to be fair, she’d been far too drunk to remember much else from the trip.

  She watched, waiting for a moment as the truck made a slow circle around the parking lot. The man on the turret was scanning the area for something.

  But what? Michelle had no idea.

  There weren’t any distinct markings so far as she could see, not that she was an expert with such things. The men appeared to be United States Army stock, but again, she didn’t get a good look at them.

  She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Unfortunately, it wasn’t caused by the beer she’d had the previous night. She moved back from the window, concerned they might spot her.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Cairns said, getting up slowly from the couch.

  “Shh,” Michelle whispered, raising her hand for Mrs. Cairns to stay put.

  Michelle had no idea who these men were or what they were doing here, but she had a bad feeling nothing good would happen if they knew she was eyeballing them.

  Just what were they up to?

  3

  Reid

  Reid had finally overcome his mild panic attack. He cursed himself for being weak. This was the worst time to lose the plot. This was the time for making logical choices, for taking action.

  The other workers were still in their offices. Reid didn’t meet a single other person in the parking lot as he approached his Jeep. It was old, but had never been anything but reliable over the years. He’d forced himself to do all the repairs himself, in case of an emergency like this ever presented itself. Get stuck in the middle of nowhere during an apocalypse and what were you going to do? Call the AA?

  The only question was, would it start after a dangerous dose of EMP?

  Reid hoped it would. He’d spent a great deal of time online, reading up on anything and everything about the subject. The general consensus was most older cars would start restart after an EMP. Newer models would struggle, what with all their fancy high-tech nonsense, but Reid’s Jeep was old enough to have none of it. To open a window you had to actually use your arm and turn the handle—imagine that!

  Still, he breathed a sigh of heavy relief when the engine ticked over.

  “There we are,” Reid said. “No harm, no foul.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot and was secretly glad he hadn’t accepted that big job in the city. He shivered, thinking how it must have been going down in Philly right then. Or worse yet, what could happen in the near future.

  If Reid was right and this whole situation was what he thought it was, there would be no food deliveries. No fresh water. No instant access to information. And that was to ignore the fact that in the city, many people had weapons. Many would have guns. It would descend into total chaos as people who had never once in their life felt the pang of real hunger would suddenly find themselves removed from their endless supply of potato chips and cheeseburgers.

  At yet, at the moment, there on that road, everything looked completely normal. So far.

  It was the calm before the storm, Reid knew. The shock of the new reality would settle in. After that was when the fireworks would begin.

  There were a few cars on the roads. Pretty normal for this time of day. With comparatively few old cars on the roads there wasn’t likely to be the rush hour traffic that struck the town each day. But there would be panic, people rushing to get out. He would need to take that into consideration.

  The traffic lights were out. There weren’t any police officers on patrol, marshalling traffic. No, he thought. They would be busier with other things. Many other things.

  Reid turned the radio on. He’d expected static, but instead, there was nothing. It had been fried. He turned it off.

  It was odd to feel so… cut off, Reid thought. He had always been a bit of a lone wolf, but even he felt more isolated than usual. What would it feel like to those addicted to their smart phones and social media?

  The office buildings and stores had blank expressions, no light behind their eyes. It was eerie. And no one had come out yet. That was the weirdest thing. Usually, people would be walking their dogs or going for an afternoon run. But Reid couldn’t identify a single person getting a breath of fresh air.

  Because they’re afraid, he thought. It was better to stay indoors when something bizarre and unfathomable was gripping the nation. That’s what the warnings always said, didn’t they? Please stay indoors for your own protection. Keep all doors locked and stand clear of the windows.

  Reid drove slowly tow
ard his apartment. He wouldn’t have a lot of time before things began kicking off. Still, he wanted to drive carefully. The last thing he needed was a problem with his vehicle.

  And it was all too easy to do something dangerous, like accidentally running someone over. Or hitting something left in the middle of the road and taking the jeep out of action. He needed to get to his farmhouse in the country. It was about twelve hours distant, but that was on a regular day. This was certainly not one of those. Who knew how long it would take for him to get there.

  Reid checked the rearview mirror. There was the sound of a large truck approaching from behind. It passed him on the outside going seventy on what was a low-speed road. It was a military cargo truck. Probably packed with soldiers.

  Reid kept his eyes on the road and made sure to stay as close to the hard shoulder as possible.

  Just a few minutes from his apartment building, and he came across a barricade. Here we go.

  A single cop stood in the middle of the road, a hand held up for Reid to stop. His police cruiser was parked across the road. The rest of the road was blocked off with that yellow crime scene tape often seen on movies and TV series. Pretty poor considering the local police’s resources. They had been given a nice big bonus for stamping out the majority of crime in the town.

  Reid wasn’t concerned. He hadn’t done anything wrong. The cop wasn’t about to haul his ass to jail.

  Then again, Reid wasn’t sure how the police and military would attempt to cope with this new crisis. They might enforce a curfew or set up multiple roadblocks like this one. If the town went into lockdown it could severely disrupt Reid’s plans to leave.

  Perhaps that was the real reason people hadn’t come out of their offices and homes in town? A message had somehow gotten out to them?

  Reid would do whatever it took to escape this town. Staying there now would be a slow, drawn-out death. Without the intricate shipping system their modern technology had developed, no food would arrive. Chaos would ensue. The police and military could only control the masses for so long. They were hideously outnumbered.

  Reid pulled to a stop before the police officer. The officer already had a hand on the butt of his pistol.

  “What’s the problem, officer?” Reid said politely.

  He was a normal civilian, he told himself. He was a normal guy concerned about a roadblock in the middle of the road. That was all. He would do whatever an authority figure told him to do. At least if he projected that image, the cop might believe it.

  The cop didn’t reply. He maintained his steely glare.

  “License or identification,” he finally said.

  Or identification? He was meant to say, “license and registration.” It told Reid a great deal. The authorities didn’t care who drove which vehicle. Only who.

  Then Reid realized the cop’s radio almost certainly wouldn’t work. He didn’t believe the police would have developed two-way radios with built-in protection against EMP blasts. No matter their level of funding.

  Reid took his wallet out of his pocket and handed the cop his ID.

  “What’s your destination?” the cop said.

  “Just heading home,” Reid said. “I work at a computer. No power, so I decided to take the day off.”

  He gave a small smile. What was more normal than that? Besides, the authorities would usually want everyone to stay in their homes.

  The cop nodded and handed back the license.

  “Do you have any weapons?” he said.

  “No,” Reid said. “My girlfriend is an anti-NRA thug. She would never let me possess one.”

  There was no girlfriend, but a man with a girlfriend was more likely to stay put.

  The cop took him in, appraising him.

  Reid wondered if the officer was going to make him step from the vehicle and give him a pat down. If he did, there was no way he could miss the Glock tucked in his waistband.

  Reid did his best to look relaxed.

  He’d never so much as pointed the Glock at a living person before, only used it at the firing range. Today might be the day when he would have to break that rule. He sure hoped it wouldn’t need to be right here and now with an officer present. There might come a time—and soon—when the Glock could be all that stood between life and death.

  What would he be willing to do to keep possession of the gun? He didn’t have an answer for that, but he feared it soon wouldn’t be long before he did.

  The cop was still glaring at him.

  Finally, he tore his eyes away and faced the car that pulled up behind Reid. He waved his hand to signal he could continue on his journey.

  “Thank you, officer,” Reid said.

  The moment Reid pulled away, his phony smile soured into grim determination.

  It had already started. The police had their own agenda. It was unlikely to be in sync with Reid’s own best interest. The officers would become fragmented, unable to keep their units updated with the latest developments and newly issued orders. If something went wrong, there would be no calling for backup, no assistance. They would be on their own.

  Reid pulled onto the parking lot of his apartment building. He caught sight of a large military truck as it pulled away. It was driving slowly, the turret gun manned by a soldier, head turning left to right.

  Searching. For what?

  The extra-large pickup certainly wasn’t a civilian model, but a model Reid hadn’t seen before.

  The driver browbeat Reid as he pulled away.

  Reid let out a breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. He watched the truck turn a corner in his rearview mirror. With that sort of raw fire power, they could pepper him and his vehicle in mere seconds. His Glock would be as effective as a peashooter.

  Time. That was the key element in all of this. In a little time, the authorities would fracture, breaking off into their own bands, preparing for their own survival. They would be the ones with the biggest guns. The biggest kids in the playground. But in their strength they would also represent the largest target. Others would want their weapons. In either case, Reid wasn’t equipped to fight people armed like that. His Glock was no match for automatic rifles, especially if they were handled by well-trained soldiers and police officers.

  Reid took another steadying breath as he parked his Jeep. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to get in his apartment and prepare his supplies. Then, he needed to gather all the food and water he could, as fast as he could. Finally, he needed to get out of Dodge.

  The roads might be blocked. It wasn’t something he’d taken into account before, that a curfew might be put in place, especially not so fast. But having seen how the police and soldiers were reacting, his views were already beginning to change.

  He needed to get out of there as fast as possible, before things took a nasty turn for the worst.

  The parking lot sat in the middle of the apartment blocks on each side, like a type of courtyard. The lights in the apartment buildings were off.

  Reid took out his pocket LED flashlight as he approached his apartment. It was clean and tidy, matching his logical mind. Little natural light ever streamed through the windows, and today was no different.

  He had a pull-up bar in one doorway and free weights stacked neatly in the corner. He was glad he’d put in the hard workouts. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed it. Was he strong enough to endure the difficult road ahead?

  Reid knew his apartment like the back of his hand. It was small, but well-organized and comfortable. He had a bedroom, living room, and small kitchen. He moved quickly through it.

  He didn’t get a sense of sentimentality in the slightest about leaving the majority of his possessions behind. Most people would pack up everything they had, wishing to begin their lives all over again somewhere else. Not Reid. He grabbed what he would need.

  In the kitchen, he took every piece of food and placed it in plastic shopping bags. He left anything that might spoil too quickly. He came away with canned food, sugar, rice.r />
  His camping stove with additional fuel containers was already packed in his bug out backpack. He cursed himself for not having done more with it when he’d had the time. It sat in one corner of his bedroom. It didn’t have a single mark on it. He’d bought it new from the store and hadn’t used it. He hadn’t even been camping in the past few years.

  Yes, he was definitely missing a lot of skills if he wanted to survive. He would need to develop them over the ensuing days and weeks.

  There wasn’t a single peep from his neighbors. It was deathly quiet. The background hum of cars was absent. When you were used to noise, it became background. Only now, when it was no longer there, did he notice it.

  Reid made quick journeys to his Jeep without seeing a single other person. His arms were loaded with bags stuffed with food.

  Then, he brought his bug out bag. It not only contained the camping stove, but water purifier tablets, a compass, a first aid kit, and other odds and ends.

  Maps. He’d forgotten maps.

  He’d intended on buying them for months now. He’d continually put it off. That had been a part of the angst he’d been feeling. He never confused that emotion with despair. It was more like intense discontent. He’d been strongly motivated in some areas of his life—such as exercising every day, but severely abated in many other areas.

  Like buying damn maps.

  Never mind. He’d just figure it out as he was going. How hard could it be? He remembered the route. Mostly. He’d taken the road north out of town, then headed west… But from where?

  Even if he knew, it likely wouldn’t be as simple as that. Some roads would no doubt be blocked off. Others completely impassable. That was where the value of maps came in.

  Reid cursed himself for his laziness.

  Still, he needed to keep moving. He had to prepare himself. He checked his watch and made the decision to be gone within ten minutes. His wristwatch was kinetic, meaning there was no battery, and was powered by Reid’s movement alone. It hadn’t been cheap, but in situations such as this, it was worth its weight in gold. In truth, Reid didn’t know if regular watches would work after the EMP or not, but it was better to be on the safe side.