by Max Wyatt
There was another fence on the other side, but there was no gate. If he rammed that, he would be stuck on the wire and exposed. He was trapped with no way out.
Another shot rang out behind him. He ran the car back toward the entrance and the men that were chasing him. He lined up the one with the pistol and gunned it. The car hit a gathered lot of boards and roared up like a leaping tiger and grabbed the dirt, spitting it up under the tires and charged.
The man flung himself out of the way and Finn slammed through the entrance again. Oddly, there were no more shots fired. He tried to calm his speeding heart, but adrenaline was racing through him and he could only white knuckle the steering wheel.
What a stupid stupid waste that had been. I could have been killed.
He needed another way to get over to that access road. Ahead was a body and fender shop—or it used to be once. It was boarded up, but there was only a curb and a stretch of grass between him and the road. He winced when the car scraped on the curb, envisioning his oil pan and exhaust being peeled off as he clawed his way over the obstacle.
He whipped the car onto the road and fishtailed. He compensated, but the car was still under too much momentum and it swerved in the other direction. Finn was losing control. He let off the gas, though it was the last thing his body wanted to do. The need for fight or flight was on him and all he wanted was to keep going as fast and as far as he could.
The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. The entrance ramp was directly ahead of him. He breathed once, twice, again and eased the car onto the ramp.
Traffic was heavy, but moving at a good pace. In the far distance, he thought he might be able to see some light. Maybe it was just more cars.
He would need to find gas eventually; he didn’t have enough for the full trip. But for now, he just blended in with the rest of the people running from civilization into the complete darkness of a night longer than any of them had ever faced before.
Focus. Focus. It had a new meaning now.
He tried to think about the grid, about how the power could be controlled, manipulated, torn from the professionals who regulated it and used as a tool for extortion.
His mind tried to run some ideas as to how this could have happened: a virus, a flaw, a worldwide back door access…something. But the focus wasn’t on the power grid. It wasn’t on his job or his inability to outguess the hackers.
Finn would never truly know if that man holding the gun got out of the way of his car in time. He was pretty sure he had, but there was a thud right at the end he couldn’t forget.
Finn looked straight ahead and drove as far from civilization as the road would take him.
Chapter Twelve
Erik
“We do not negotiate with terrorists!” The senator from Ohio slammed his fist down on the table hard enough to make the coffee cups bounce. He wasn’t the only one using the table as a punching bag.
“We don’t have choice,” Representative Harris yelled to be heard over the tumult. For an elderly woman, she had a very powerful voice. “People are dying out there! People in hospitals, in nursing homes…”
Hatchett from Ohio made a disgusted sound and waved it off as negligible. “Just because they can’t afford to bribe senators does not mean that…”
“How dare you!” the dishes danced again to Hatchett’s repeated poundings on the table.
“That was uncalled for…”
“She’s right!”
“That’s slander!”
The noise level rose higher and higher. Erik sat on the side of the table, in the recesses used to store aides and researchers until needed. His boss, the honorable Senator from Connecticut Robert Hays, leaned back and watched the show like it was an episode of Jerry Springer. He turned and caught Erik’s eye and grinned. Erik bit his lip and looked away. It was one thing for a senator to find this funny, but an aide who found things funny soon found himself out of a job.
“What is so goddam funny?!” Erik whipped his head around. Busted! But it wasn’t him that was the focus of the verbal attack, it was his boss. Though Senator Hays didn’t look the least put out by the complaint, and if anything his smile broadened wider than ever.
“I love the way you make sure that no one can get a moment’s peace until they’ve heard you out, Senator Hatchett.” He smiled, full of equanimity and good spirits. “I remember my son being the same way, it brought back a lot of memories of family outings. Of course, he grew out of that stage by time he was five…”
That earned him a polite chuckle from around the table.
Senator Hatchett’s face purpled. Given his girth and the way his pulse beat erratically at his temple, he was a victim of high blood pressure, and likely shouldn’t be getting himself aroused in such a manner. Erik watched with the innate curiosity, wondering if a heart attack would put an end to the proceedings or not. “So you’re telling me that you agree with this…”
“I am trying to tell you in plain and simple English, Senator…” Hays raised his voice. He was former Marine, a Major. He knew how to be heard. “…and I will make my position clear if you would please stop your braying for a moment and allow someone else to agree with you!”
In the shocked silence he nodded to Representative Harris. “With all due reluctance to have to side with the honorable gentleman of Ohio, I have to agree that paying the ransom, as well as being ruinous, is also an invitation for further extortion. We are losing people, as you say, and I am painfully aware of that. In many parts of the country, there are impoverished people who will be feeling the full brunt of the heat tomorrow and not have any way to avoid heat stroke.”
He stood. He wasn’t the tallest man in the room - that was Representative Babcock at six foot seven. Though Beanpole Babcock was certainly not the broadest – Senator Williams of Wisconsin was said to tip the scales in excess of four hundred pounds, but Hays automatically drew attention to himself. He was a presence, he entered a room and he owned it, even if he’d rather not.
“No, we’re not paying the extortion.” He held up a hand to quell the objections that blossomed around him like a fireworks finale at a Fourth of July spectacle. “We do not have the authority in this room to make such a deal anyway, so it’s a moot point. What we need to do is to determine what we can do. Right now, we are only losing power, which,” he said quickly to Harris as he opened his mouth again, “I admit has tragically deadly consequences. But can this go further? We still have internet for the most part, it’s protected…”
“The grid was protected,” Hatchett grumped, agreeing obviously despite himself.
“However,” Hays talked over him, “we cannot assume that these people, whoever they are, will limit themselves to an attack on only one thing. Can they control air traffic? Can they control the dams, the nuclear generators, the trains, infrastructure? Will they return with renewed threats?” He shook his head sadly. “No, as much as it pains me, we cannot save a life today at the expense of five more tomorrow.”
“People are evacuating the cities,” Representative Green said quietly. She rarely spoke, but when she did, it was usually to say something that everyone else had missed.
“Good!” Hatchett boomed, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat as though something was going his way for the time being. Erik looked at him and saw a pompous idiot who had no idea what that meant in real terms. The chaos outside would only escalate the crisis, not aid it in any way.
“So why bother?” Green continued.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Hays said, holding his hand up to silence Hatchett. Erik watched in awe as it worked. Hatchett allowed himself to be commanded by Hays with nothing more than a raised palm.
“They want money. A lot of money. Money isn’t worth anything if you can’t spend it,” Green said, her brow beginning to crumple. “If the cities are open for looting and riots, if the supplies are all gone and the people fled, what’s the point of asking for money? Where would you spend that k
ind of a fortune that isn’t being plagued by the same terrorists that want the money?” She held out her hands palms up. “There’s no point to any of this.”
Hays looked at her for a long moment. “I suppose they could spend it when all this blows over.” He said thoughtfully. “If we give into their demands…and no, Senator, we are not giving into their demands, I am speaking hypothetically, if we were to give them their money, they simply need to wait…”
“For what?” Green insisted. “Even if you had an army to grow rich down to the last man, that’s still a lot of money. You can only spend so much. Unless it’s not the money they’re after.”
Erick felt a pull on his sleeve. Hay’s junior senator, William Johnson, gave a half shake of his head, indicating Erik should follow him into the hallway. Erik looked between him and the table. It was finally getting interesting and Green was asking questions no one else had brought up. He didn’t want to go, not yet.
But that wasn’t his job, was it? Erik sighed and followed Johnson out, the good dog coming when called.
“Erik, how are you doing?” Johnson said, smiling and shaking his hand when the door had shut behind them and they were safely alone. Johnson was a handsome man, with a good ten years’ experience on him. Short and somewhat round, he gave kind of the impression of a chipmunk. He also was smart as a whip and would be a senator himself someday, provided the government still needed senators in a ten years’ time.
“Uh, fine…” Erik said, his mind on the conversation Green was having in the conference room. “I guess, yeah…”
“You look tired.”
Erik tried not to laugh. No one slept since the ransom demand had come through. Word had it that the President was on Air Force One not because of his emergency visit to London, but so that he could use that as an excuse to get some sleep. London went dark while the president was on route; he never made it there.
“I think everyone has been losing sleep today,” he tried to smile at the junior senator, but failed, grimacing instead.
“Well,” Johnson clasped Erik’s shoulder in a companionable way, leading him down the hall, steering him away from the conference room. “Why don’t you get some rest, huh?”
Erik stopped, confused. “But the senator…” he said, looking back at the door. “I have…” He held up the folio of papers he kept with him for the senator to grab should he need information. It was his job to anticipate what the man required before he needed it, and to do so discreetly.
Johnson laughed as though Erik had said something witty. “You know, of course,” Johnson said, leaning in to speak as another man exited the room and started walking in the opposite direction. He spoke just under his breath, so quiet Erik could barely hear him. “…that United States Senators are given space in special…safe areas in case of attack by foreign powers.”
Erik nodded, though what that had to do with him he had no idea.
“You are also aware that such protection extends to family members?”
“Uh…sure…?”
Johnson frowned, stepping back and looking at Erik as though he’d suddenly gone stupid. Apparently, Erik was supposed to be reading between the lines somewhere in there.
“…and that such facilities do not, repeat do not have accommodations for aides?” He stared at Erik until the bulb clicked on.
“Are you saying that…”
“I’m not saying anything at all.” But Johnson shook his hand again. The way you would before you left on a long trip. “Just that you look tired. You need to take care of yourself, Erik, we need you here and in good health. Take a few days in the country, or maybe in the mountains. Somewhere you can relax and just catch your breath and get caught up on your rest.”
The door to the conference room opened and shut again quietly. Another aide staggered out, clutching a briefcase that wasn’t clasped shut properly and was spilling papers everywhere. This was an aide Erik knew well. A woman who was fairly new in the office. She looked red-eyed and panicky and took off running as soon as the door shut behind her, leaving a trail of documents in her wake.
“But I can’t run out in a crisis…” Erik protested, watching Marjorie fading into the distance.
“No, nor are you. This is just a temporary issue with a few terrorists. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about.” He took the papers from Erik’s numb hands and smiled, then just turned and walked back into the conference room as though nothing were the matter at all. The door closed with a dull thud behind him, shutting Erik out completely.
Erik swallowed hard.
Marjorie had run.
He at least walked with dignity to his car. At a very rapid pace.
Traffic in DC was never pleasant. At nine o’clock at night, it was nearly tolerable. But not this night. Not this time. Erik was well and truly caught in the gridlock of legend. Traffic crept slowly and Erik gave up on any thoughts he had about going home for clothing or any of the supplies he’d purchased. He’d get…something on the way to Pennsylvania. There had to still be a store open on the way. Gas stations too. You need gas. He had a half-tank, but that wasn’t going to get him that far.
The traffic surged and he almost wept in relief. The stoplight was out, completely. They had been using it as four-way stop, but too few people seemed to understand how that worked. The light had been replaced by a traffic cop and things were moving again.
Erik drove past the cop and looked up at the face of man resigned to his fate. Whatever happened to the capital was going to happen to him. He wasn’t running, he wasn’t hiding. He was standing in the night surrounded by flares and directing traffic, because that was his job.
Erik bit his lip. It was wrong to run and hide. He didn’t want to flee with his tail between his legs, but he had orders. Hell, he would rather be directing traffic. It somehow became noble, even honorable.
His phone still showed no service. There was no way to determine if he had internet; data wasn’t connecting either.
Last he’d heard, New York was completely black. LA wasn’t responding anymore and Las Vegas, the sin capital of America, was preparing for heat stroke and exposure. Erik stopped at the next light, treating it like a stop sign with no policeman there to direct traffic. There were only so many officers that the city could spare, and the lights were out all over.
He settled in for a long wait as cars moved forward one at a time. All this time spent burning gasoline and going nowhere. It would take hours to get to Pennsylvania. Hell, it would take hours to get out of DC.
He spared a prayer for his sister, for his parents. Then he added one for himself.
For the world, he had no prayer to cover what he felt, what he believed.
The world had finally come to a close and it wasn’t due to nuclear attack. It wasn’t a climate-ending meteor, or even global warming. There was no great rending of the earth’s crust like in the disaster movies.
Civilization was coming to an end, and with it all of man’s greatest creations, because someone had simply turned the lights off.
Somehow, that was just too poetic to laugh at…
…and far too tragic to cry over.
Chapter Thirteen
Harper
“So how long do we keep going?”
They’d been driving for an hour. Going west. South. Whichever direction the road took them so long as it wasn’t back the way they came. Without the map app on their phones, they were running blind. Trying to remember highway numbers and getting into arguments every time they found a green sign with names of towns on it they’d never heard before.
Harper leaned against the door, watching out the window as fields passed by. Trees. The occasional darkened house. Was the power out, or were people asleep? It was after midnight.
For once Tara didn’t have a snappy comeback. “I don’t know. I don’t want to waste what gas we have. I knew where we were right until we came to that last town. Now I’m not so sure.”
Harper turned her head to look at
her. Tara’s face was pale in the lights from the dash. Her shoulders slumped. Wisps of hair escaped from her ponytail, making her face look soft, vulnerable. Harper bit her lip, realizing that all this sniping at each other had gotten them nowhere. They needed each other more than ever and to do that they needed to get along.
“Want something to eat? Drink?” she asked, gesturing at the boxes and bags piled behind them on the seat, the things all the way in the back.
“We should probably save it…”
“We also need to keep our strength up, right? How are we supposed to make good decisions if we’re hungry or dehydrated?” Tara shot her a look. Harper shrugged. “Survival 101. I’ve been camping enough times to know that much at least.”
Tara chuckled wearily. “Okay, then some water. I am thirsty.”
Harper unsnapped her seatbelt and leaned over the seat, fishing around under things until she found a case of water and could ease out a single bottle. She debated taking one as well, and almost didn’t, but knew her little speech was liable to come back and bite her so she bent a little further, trying to reach the next one.
And hit the side of the door, hard, as Tara screamed and wrenched the wheel all the way to the left.
For a moment there was the dizzying feel of sliding, the sound of tires squealing on pavement. Dazed, Harper clutched at the seat, water bottles flying, stifling a scream of her own as she waited for the impact that would end everything.
Only nothing happened.
Just that. Nothing. The car came to a halt, facing…sideways?
Harper turned her head carefully, wincing at the twinge in her neck. They were facing trees.
“What happened?”
Tara’s hands were clamped on the steering wheel so tight she might have been welded to it. “I saw…something.” Her breath came in short gasps.
She’s shaking, Harper realized. The unshakeable Tara was…shaking.
