Roman was silent for a long moment—and then at last decided that it was best to prepare Fred as best he could. “I think it’s a massive solar storm. The evidence is pretty clear. Our cell phones aren’t working. My truck’s radio is not picking up any stations at all. A solar storm of sufficient magnitude to kill all power would block all radio signals, at least for a day or two until the worst of the storm passes. An EMP event could do it too, but the sky is clear of mushroom clouds and there were no blinding flashes.”
A pole mounted electrical transformer blew up as they drove by it. That was a bad sign; the storm was intensifying. Soon electrical wires would overload with induced electricity from the sun’s storm, blowing out transformers and setting fires. Roman explained that to Fred and said, “Buried pipelines will also carry large induced currents and heat up. The induced current will speed up corrosion at an astronomical pace, causing gas and oil leaks that—combined with the high voltage current in the pipe—will cause explosions and fires to erupt from the ground.” Fred just looked at Roman with numbness. Roman didn’t think he was getting through to him.
As Roman drove, he saw and heard other transformers blow and houses burning. Plugged in appliances, such as fans and coffee pots, were melting all over the city. Roman told Fred, “By tomorrow the city could be full of raging fires. There are no working fire departments now, or water pressure to fight with.”
Fred sputtered, “Are you crazy? This can’t last! It can’t! It’ll all blow over in a day or two.”
Roman, feeling pity for him thought to himself, “As of yet there probably aren’t a thousand people out of the six and a half million in the metroplex that’s aware of what’s happening, and what’s going to happen. Fred can see it, and he won’t believe it.”
Roman drove the side streets as he worked his way parallel to the interstate. Cars were stalled along the streets they were travelling. He had to weave in and out between many of them, once or twice moving onto the sidewalk or the edge of someone’s yard to get past clusters of cars. No one tried to stop him, although he received curious looks; his was one of the very few vehicles still moving. The people he saw on the streets appeared to be bewildered more than anything.
He knew that this bewilderment would in time turn to concern, and then to panic as people realized they had no water and very little food. Within a day or two, the solar storm would pass, and radios would work again. Those with battery-powered radios would avidly listen to whatever stations they could get. Then, as news of the worldwide situation spread, panic and rioting would begin in earnest.
Roman drove past a small local grocery store. It was too early for the looting—yet. That would pass.
Turning back to the store, Roman removed a model 1911 .45 caliber pistol from his glove compartment and tucked it inside his waist band. Fred stared at him with outright fear.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Roman took his keys and went into the store. He bought as many canned goods as he could with the cash he had on him, nearly two hundred dollars. He already had plenty of food stockpiled, but as currency was now worthless, he wouldn’t walk away from an opportunity like this. The register didn’t work but the owner manually added up the total and Roman told him to keep the change. Roman tried to tell the storeowner to bolt the store down and haul off as much food as he could for his own use, but the owner’s interest was instead in jacking his prices.
Fred asked Roman why he had stopped to buy food. Roman remained silent for a moment. How could he make Fred face reality? Then he said patiently, “Fred, there is no more food coming to the grocery stores. Where will you get food to eat?”
Fred said, “FEMA or the National Guard will bring food and water. Just like New Orleans, right? We just have to hold out for three days, maybe four, and then relief will come. They’ll get everything straightened out.”
Roman thought to himself, “He has no clue that the government cannot rescue three hundred million people. That kind of denial kills.” Trying one last time, Roman explained, “The government can’t drive anywhere anymore, and even if they could they don’t have the resources. There will be no more food at the stores and everyone will be starving very soon. Your best bet is to get out of town, way out into the country. Look for pecan trees, oak trees and mesquite trees. Pecans are your densest calories, acorns next and mesquite beans last. Pecans you can eat raw; acorns need to be boiled three or four times until they are no longer bitter; and mesquite beans need to be cooked if they are dry. Those are the only native plants that have enough calories for a person to survive on. The nuts and beans will be gone by spring, so if you find any, stockpile as much as you possibly can.”
Fred was actively ignoring him, as though he thought Roman was crazed.
They finally arrived at the end of the residential area. It was time to get on the interstate. The highway wasn’t as blocked here on the outskirts; a truck or car every five hundred yards or so. Most of them had managed to pull over to the side. But as he headed for the ramp Roman’s truck started sputtering badly and nearly died. As the storm went on, he was losing more fuses, and would until nightfall. After dark, the fuses would be shielded by the earth’s mass. The question was, how many would he lose and how far could he get?
He decided to change fuses one more time and get as far from town as he could, then pull over and wait for dark before changing fuses a third time. He had six sets, more than he thought he would have ever needed—but at this rate they wouldn’t get him home, not in the daytime. Roman restarted the truck and pulled up onto the interstate, southbound, pistol at his side and the determination to get home to Sarah.
Roman continued trying to explain to Fred. “A solar storm hit in 1859, known as “The Carrington Event.” It was the most powerful storm that had been observed to that date. It was mostly notable because the telegraph had been invented fifteen years previously, and wires had been strung. Electricity usage was in its infancy. Even so, magnetic fields from the coronal mass ejection induced direct current voltage into the wires, overloading and heating them up. Fires started at telegraph stations, caused by the current overload. The earth’s magnetic shield fluctuates in strength over thousands of years. At the moment the shield is fifteen percent weaker than it was in 1859, making a storm of the same power of the Carrington storm fifteen percent more powerful.
“The grid has grown exponentially. The nation is completely and tragically dependent on an interconnected power grid that is millions and millions of times larger than in 1859. Back then, the food distribution system was significantly different. Food was grown locally and wasn’t dependent on fuel driven vehicles. This storm appears to be bigger than the Carrington Storm, maybe a lot bigger. Transformers all over the country are blowing up, transformers that can take three years to replace under normal circumstances. Under these conditions they cannot be replaced. The transformer manufacturers rely on electric power to build their transformers and there is no electric power. A chicken and egg kind of thing.
“A cascade of failures has already started. Like rows of dominos falling, civilization’s key touch stones are falling rapidly right now. No electricity means no fuel will be pumped. After the storm passes some of the vehicles that are paralyzed will be operational again. Those that do run will only run as long as there is fuel in their tanks. The gas stations will not be pumping gas because that takes electricity.
“No electricity means no refineries will be making fuel. No electricity means no water will be pumped by the giant electric pumps required to keep city water pressure up. You get what I’m saying, Fred?”
But Fred would not look at him, instead staring out the window in silence.
As the miles passed, Roman thought of Sarah, worrying about what she was thinking and doing right now. He thought, “Sarah is a strong woman, intelligent and tough. She’ll be all right. She’ll stay home and wait for me. We have a decent chance to survive as long as we keep our heads. Fred won’t make it; he doesn’t want to face facts.”
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Yet though Fred would not listen, Roman had to keep trying to get through. “On average the human body will die or become inoperative within three or four days without water. That will be the first primal motivation: thirst. Thirst is going to hit soon, and hard. People are going to start moving to whatever bodies of water are near them. Rivers, creeks, lakes, whatever they can get to. But it will be untreated water. Dysentery will become nearly universal, and then will come cholera and typhoid—diseases caused by unsanitary conditions. Those fortunate enough to survive all of that will be riddled with intestinal parasites.
“Tens of millions of people are going to die from thirst and panic and disease before they started starving. Even with water, the average human body will cease to function within three to four weeks without food. Fred, history has shown starving people take to their feet, become frantic in search of food, and will walk miles every day. Hundreds of millions of starving people, people sick from contaminated water and weakened by hunger, vulnerable to any sickness that comes along, will start walking out of the cities. You will be in their path.”
Roman believed from his studies that the best that could be hoped for was a three percent survival rate. Ninety-seven out of every one hundred people were going to die within the next year. Those people just standing around their stalled cars were already as good as dead. Fred wasn’t going to make it; he wasn’t trying to understand. He was refusing to understand on purpose.
At times they were able to reach fifty miles per hour, even in limp mode. They would be slowed down on the up hills and speed up on the down hills.
Roman knew the food supply he had built up would support his family for a long time. Every bite of food that he might give to anyone else would extend that person’s life by a few hours, but was also shortening the lives of his own family members. Ethics and morality had nothing to do with it; the calculus of survival would inform Roman’s actions from now on.
Roman quit talking. They were nearing the point where he would drop Fred off—and he frankly couldn’t wait—when he saw a highway patrol car. It was on the side of the road, stalled. As Roman came close, the patrolman stepped out into the middle of the right lane and held his arms up for Roman to stop. Roman had no intention of stopping and moved over to the left lane. The patrolman waved more frantically—and then Fred grabbed the wheel, screaming at Roman to stop and wrestling with it. Roman slammed the brakes, and the truck skidded to a sideways stop just feet from the patrolman, who now had his pistol out and aimed it right at Roman’s head. Roman ducked just as the patrolman fired. The bullet missed Roman’s head by a fraction of an inch and went out the windshield.
Roman snapped his own pistol up and pulled the trigger. His .45 caliber hollow point hit the patrolman in the chest and he went down, dropping his pistol. Roman jumped out of the truck and ran to the officer. One look told him the man wouldn’t survive. Fred walked up beside them as the officer said hoarsely, “Only wanted a ride,” and died.
Fred was shaking. Looking at him with disgust, Roman demanded, “Just what the hell did you think you were doing? I was going around him!”
Fred said, “He’s a police officer. He was signaling for us to stop and you kept going. You were supposed to stop.”
Roman, angrier than he had ever been, snarled, “You idiot—you stupid bumbling idiot—you almost got me killed and you damn sure killed him. If you hadn’t pulled that stunt we would have been past him no problem. You’re getting out here; I don’t want you near me again. I’ve been trying to tell you but you won’t listen. Civilization as you have known it is gone, completely and utterly gone. There are no policemen anymore. There is no government. This is just another man with no authority over anyone. He wanted to steal my truck and set me on foot. You’re going to die a slow, horrible death because you won’t wake up to reality—you and your wife. Your best bet is to shoot your wife and kill yourself—it’ll save you both needless suffering.”
Fred stared at Roman in open-mouthed shock as Roman got back into his truck, slammed the door and drove off, shaking with anger. As he topped the hill, Fred was still in the middle of the road, mute and dumbstruck.
Half an hour later and at the crest of another rise, Roman noticed that there wasn’t a stalled car within sight in either direction—although there were columns of rising smoke in all directions. It would be a good place to wait for dark. He pulled over to the side, packed his backpack, and headed for the nearby trees, pistol and truck keys in hand.
Only one vehicle drove past, although several men and women walked past. They did not give Roman’s truck more than a glance. As the sun set, the sky became filled with the eerie green shifting glow from the Aurora Borealis. He knew that a solar storm strong enough to cause cars to stall out was probably stronger than the 1859 storm. He had expected that he would be seeing the Northern Lights tonight. In 1859, the lights had been so strong that people had read newspapers by their glow. Roman had hoped they would be bright all the way down to Texas. If they were, he would be able to drive without headlights, giving less warning that he was approaching to anyone inclined to stop him.
He was right; the Northern Lights were bright enough to drive by, almost like driving by a full moon, something he had not done since courting Sarah. Roman drove on home without further incident. He passed several groups of people walking down the highway, some of whom waved hysterically at him, some gathered around bonfires—but none of them appeared to be armed and no one tried to stop him. Most of them just seemed to be in a mental fugue. He passed a lot of brush fires that had been set by hot electrical wires and exploding transformers. And he passed several houses burning.
When finally he arrived home, Sarah ran out from the house carrying a shotgun, just as Roman had taught her. They hugged hard for a long time without saying anything. Now that he was home safe, she started worrying about their children and grandchildren. Soon trouble would arrive at their doorstep.
Chapter 2
Adrian Hunter stood at attention with his platoon while they received their immediate marching orders. They were to march to the barracks and grab their gear, then march in formation to the arms room to draw their rifles and ammunition. Then they were to march in formation to the motor pool, climb aboard the deuce and a half trucks that would be waiting to transport them to the choppers, climb into the choppers, strap themselves in and ride. When the choppers landed they were to assume that they were landing in a hot LZ, get off the choppers and hit the ground, assess the situation and wait for the lieutenant to provide further instructions; most likely to set an immediate perimeter, taking advantage of whatever terrain they had available.
Adrian loved the army. One reason was because the army left nothing to chance. The army told you what, when, how, how much, how often, where, and everything you needed to know except why. The army wasn’t much on explaining why.
“Why” was always the subject of intense rumor. There were three kinds of “why” rumors that cropped up. The first was the completely false rumor; the one manufactured for amusement. These were generally designed to frighten, but were ridiculous upon consideration and provided needed laughter. Roman would always fondly remember the rumor that was spread during his first days of introduction to the army. As they were lined up to begin receiving inoculations, word spread that the final shot would be with a square needle into the left testicle. Three men passed out on hearing it.
Then there were the speculative rumors. Mere guesses that were all over the place and rarely came close to accuracy.
Last, and best, were the semi-informed rumors. These were generally started by senior NCOs who overheard officers talking or glimpsed paperwork somewhere. This information would be passed on to the other NCOs, and then the rest of the troops. Ultimately the more accurate and most sought after were spread by company clerks. If a rumor could be traced to a company clerk, it was gold. Company clerks actually ran the army, and everyone except the officers knew it. The NCOs were careful not to allow the o
fficers to know this truth; things just worked better that way.
Adrian had this one pegged; it came directly from their company clerk. The Post Commander, as a result of the recent grid failure, had dispatched combat teams by helicopter to food warehouse complexes. The troops were to seize and hold the warehouses while waiting for the transport group to show up with trucks and additional men. Transport was scrambling at the same moment. They were putting together heavily armed convoys that would go out, commandeer commercial freight trucks, get them running, and bring them to the secured warehouses.
The trucks would be loaded with non-perishable foods and driven back with armed escorts to Fort Hood, unloaded, and sent back to the warehouses. Repeat until warehouses were empty. Simultaneously other heavily armed helicopter and convoy groups were heading towards fuel storage depots, to do the same thing with fuel. According to the company clerk, Fort Hood had, on average, fifty thousand troops stationed there, and another fifty thousand dependents. One hundred thousand mouths ate a lot, and it normally took just two weeks to whittle through Ford Hood’s entire inventory of supplies.
The Post Commander knew that with the grid down, no more food would be in-coming. Either he sent troops out to get food, or there would be mass starvation on Post. Adrian suspected that this was a well-vetted contingency plan from way back. The probability of a major solar storm wiping out civilization had been known for many years. It had been the subject of multiple congressional hearings, although Congress had never taken any action. It was just lucky that the army was excellent at contingency plans. No doubt this one had been named “Operation Full Stomachs” or something creative like that.
Adrian was sitting in the open door of the chopper with his legs hanging out. He would be the first on the ground. This was a position of honor. At twenty-four years old, he was in the prime of his life. He was in exceptional physical condition. He had been trained in the toughest combat schools the army had, and excelled in each of them. He had two full combat tours behind him and numerous secret missions. Adrian had seen more than his share of combat; he had dispatched more than his share of enemy combatants—under some of the worst conditions imaginable. He was completely cold and ruthless when under fire. His men would follow him anywhere, anytime, without question.
A Distant Eden Page 2
