The Pulse: An EMP Prepper Survival Tale

by Roger Hayden

  Janice’s attention was drawn to the odd sight Plymouth. People were following it like parishioners after their prophet. The car sped up, but couldn't shake them loose. Suddenly it dawned on her that the Plymouth was no ordinary car, it was Mark's bug-out car coming to get her.

  A sudden sense of relief and happiness swept over her. Mark slammed on the brakes in front of the building and kept the engine idling. He looked frantically for Janice in the crowd. Against his better judgment, he pressed down on the horn as it sounded a muffled blaring. Janice ran toward the car, away from her perplexed co-workers. The mob behind the Plymouth had gained ground and had almost reached the rear bumper when Janice flew to the passenger's side. Mark leaned over and pushed the door open for her, his face filled with both anxiety and relief. Others were crowding closer.

  "Janice, thank God!" he said, and reached across to help her inside. "Hurry up and get in!"

  She swung her legs inside, and plopped down into the seat. Her door swayed open as Mark pulled away from the building and drove in the opposite way, trying to lose the mob following them.

  "Come on, asshole!" a sweaty man billowed out in raspy breaths. "Give us a break here!"

  Janice slammed the door shut, and hunkered down in the seat. The mob tried its best to keep up, but soon the Plymouth moved out of range, bumping over a parking median and onto the main road. They weaved between perfectly still vehicles in their way. Mark feared that their path would soon be blocked by a pack of frustrated motorists.

  "We have to take the back roads," Mark said. "The highway is much too dangerous."

  "What's going on, Mark? Is this an EMP?"

  Mark kept his eyes on the road, taking a moment before answering. "Pretty damn good chance," he responded.

  "What are we going to do?" she asked. "My friends at work are stranded. I didn't know what to tell them."

  "Right now it's the only thing that makes sense. We have to assume the worst. We have to be prepared. This is what it's all about, Janice. We knew something bad was coming."

  "I know, but─" Janice began. She stopped and covered her face with her hands, grief-stricken.

  They pulled off the main road, going back the same way Mark had come. It was longer than taking the highway but safer. Mark looked at Janice sympathetically and trying to think of how to console her.

  "How are you holding up?" he asked her. "Are you okay?" He reached over and placed his hand on hers.

  Janice looked up and sighed. "I was sitting at work, talking with one of our applicants when the power went out, just like that." Janice snapped her fingers.

  "Same thing happened with me."

  "At first I didn't think much of it,” said Janice, “like it was just a downed power line or something, but as soon as I saw the cars, I knew it was something different. Then the cell phones and everything else went."

  "Electromagnetic pulses. That's what they do," Mark said.

  "Yes, but for how long?"

  "What?" Mark asked.

  "How long will it be like this?"

  Mark couldn’t answer. He looked around and took the next turn towards home. Their windows were down allowing in cooling gusts of wind. They passed stranded motorists by the dozens, careful not to make eye contact. It felt wrong to leave them, but there were far too many.

  “There's nothing we can do for them right now. Right now it's just you and me," Mark said.

  "How long will everything be like this?" Janice asked.

  "It could be days, months, or years. The government is supposed to have taken measures to minimize the effects of an EMP blast. There's no telling what they came up with, or what sort of emergency plan they have in place."

  Suddenly in the creeping silence, Mark and Janice heard helicopters in the air; an army of helicopters it seemed. Janice looked into the sky and saw them coming into view. They were painted blue and white, and looked to be law enforcement. Mark grew paranoid at the presence above, as they would clearly identify their Plymouth as one of the few, if not the only, cars moving on the road. However, they flew over them without a care, and over the horizon, out of view.

  They made it back to the house, without any clear answers. Janice was shaken, where Mark was focused. He felt that they needed to get to the bug-out house as soon as possible. As they pulled into the driveway, Mark looked over to Mr. Harper's front porch. His neighbor was no longer there. Only an empty swing remained. They parked, and Mark helped Janice out of the car, holding her hand as they walked back into the house.

  "Silly question," she said, "but our house... is it...?"

  "No power, sweetheart. Just like everything else." Mark led Janice inside. The house was stunning in its silence, and humidity. Mark walked through the living room, shutting the blinds to block any view from outside. Janice sat on the couch, and looked at her silver shiny wrist watch. The hands weren't moving. It had stopped at 9:10 a.m.

  "Thanks you for getting me," she said. “I guess you were right about that old car.”

  Mark turned from the window to look at her. “I never knew for sure. We're very lucky.”

  The smile on Janice's face vanished as a distressing thought came to mind. "Our finances," she said. "What about our money?"

  Mark walked to the couch and sat next to her, placing a hand on her knee. "I'm not going to lie, honey; right now it doesn't look good. Our gold investments should be okay. We have a few thousand in cash stored in the safe. As far as our savings, I just don't know. The banks are down. We can't call them. The ATMs aren't working. Even if we showed up there, they can't do a thing until the system is up. In another day or two the banks will probably be either the most secure or dangerous places on earth. Everyone is going to want cash, and once they realize their credit cards are worthless, they're going to get angry and desperate."

  Janice rested her head on Mark's shoulder, and for a moment they were just quiet.

  "Is it Milledgeville, then?" she asked softly. After doing the math in her head, Janice, like Mark, had soon came to the conclusion that the bug-out house was the place to be.

  "It's looking that way," Mark said. "Why don't you rest for a minute? I'm going to try to get in contact with James."

  Mark got up and walked toward the basement. Janice looked at him curiously. "How are you going to do that?" she asked.

  "I'm going to try him on the radio," Mark answered and continued walking toward the stairs.

  Oh, well. Good luck with that. Janice stretched her legs out on the couch and lay back. Her mind raced in a million different directions. She looked up at the popcorn ceiling and became paralyzed by her thoughts.

  Mark found the radio, secured in a thick metal case. Once it was set up on the table, it looked like something from an old war movie. The 500Hz main transceiver sat in the middle, fitted with plastic knobs and buttons. At the end of an attached, coiled cable was the receiver. Mark flipped the power on and could hear static through the handheld microphone. The radio ran off of a 12-volt battery attached inside. It was an ideal means of communication in emergency situations. Mark trolled the frequencies, moving through its digital display, searching for anything resembling radio activity. He reached 1407, which was a station he knew James sometimes frequented.

  "Red Raven, Red Raven, this is Badger Beast, do you copy?"

  He released the button on the handheld mic and waited. There was nothing but static. Mark continued. "Red Raven, come in Red Raven, this is Badger Beast, do you copy? Over."

  A sudden sound crackled over the mic. "Badger Beast, this is Red Raven. Over."

  Mark was elated. As a result, he fumbled slightly with the receiver.

  "Awesome! So glad you're there. Over," Mark said, foregoing any type of radio etiquette.

  "How you holding up on your end? Over," James asked.

  Mark held down the button on the handheld and spoke. "It's pretty bad here. Possible EMP strike occurred early this morning. All power is out. All devices. Bug-out vehicle is operational. Over."

 
"Same here. EMP has spread to Milledgeville and beyond. Over."

  "What is the status of our rally point? Over." Mark asked.

  "Rally point is a go. Over."

  "Great, we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Over."

  "Sound good. Over."

  "Will see you soon. Over and out," Mark said.

  Mark switched off the radio and set down the hand mic, pondering their urgency. He estimated that they had at least a week or two of normalcy, waiting for emergency assistance like everyone else. But even before the black out, things had reached a tipping point. All the economic problems and general discontent going on throughout the nation only needed one match to light the fire. Driving to Milledgeville days after the fact would almost guarantee trouble at the hands of an even more desperate mob. They had to leave soon. Mark went to the living room and stood over Janice as she lay on the couch, still deep in thought.

  "I think we should leave tomorrow morning," he said.

  Janice sat up and stared at Mark, considering his suggestion, but she looked more worried. "What about our house? All of our stuff?"

  Mark sat down next her, sinking into a plush cushion. "We’ll take everything we possibly can. We’ll hide our valuables, or pack them up. It's going to take some work, but we can do this."

  Janice seemed wary of Mark's suggestion. "Do you really think we need to leave so soon? We don't know what could happen. They might have the power back on in a few days. Like you said, they have protocols for this sort of thing."

  "Janice, we need to do what we've been planning for all this time. We have to take advantage of the bug-out house. We're not going to stay there forever, but it's going to be safer in the long run. Think about it. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it's going to get out there. The more dangerous it gets, the more unlikely our chances are to ever make it to Milledgeville." Mark paused. “Listen," he said, leaning in closer. "I talked to James. Milledgeville's almost two hundred miles away, and they're going through the exact same thing we are. We have no idea the scope of this."

  Janice nodded but still couldn't feel the same urgency Mark did about leaving. "If we waited a couple of days, we could then leave late at night if we had to. It would be safer out. Fewer people, fewer everything."

  "We can't sit here and wait for them to come for us. You saw how many people chased after my car in your parking lot. That was, what, a few hours after the attack? How do you think those same people are going to react after three days with no power?"

  Janice said nothing as Mark placed his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. "I don't want to do anything that you don't want to do. Just consider it. Think about what I'm saying. I'm only concerned about our safety. You're my wife, and I can't do any of this without you."

  Janice felt her eyes water but tried to not to get more emotional. Everything she had dreaded was happening at a frightening speed. She looked into Mark's eyes and tried to arrive to an answer.

  Chapter Nine

  Pandemonium in Atlanta

  Monday, September 21, 2025 8:45 A.M. Atlanta, GA

  Interstate 75 was a nightmare, typical of Monday morning rush-hour traffic. Terrance had left his house a little later than planned and was on his way to Dearborn, Michigan, in his eighteen wheeler semi. As of now, the forty-foot trailer hitched to his glossy red cab was empty. Thirty pallets of copper wire awaited him in South Carolina then on to the Wolverine state. By his own estimate, he was an hour behind schedule, which, in the trucking business, was not a good thing. He knew I-75 would be a pain, it always was. Once he found himself in the thick of it, he tried to think of alternative routes, but few existed. He called other drivers on CB radio, asking them how far the gridlock extended. The news wasn’t good, and Terrance soon found there was no way around it. Traffic was going to be crawling no matter which route he took. He only had himself to blame for any delays. If only he’d gotten out of bed earlier and hit the road.

  He thought back to that morning. The cool bedroom, the soft pillow tucked under his head. It was still dark outside, and then the alarm clock buzzed. "Ten years," Terrance muttered under his breath as he finally sat up in bed that morning. "Ten more years and I'm done." He had a lot of years on the road. Could he do ten more?

  Terrance felt the absence of his family every time he left home. He believed, over the years, that he would get used to it. Having a steady job, after all, wasn't something to take for granted. Even with Christina working, they were making just enough to get by.

  His boys were in high school now, and all Terrance and Christina asked and hoped for was that they graduated. If they could make it that far, their parents would feel they had done their jobs. Terrance stared ahead, squinting against the rising sun. The light was blinding, even with his sunglasses on. Traffic clogged the road as far as he could see. "Dammit," he said, downshifting to a crawl. Terrance hated to be late, especially when it involved his haul, but had little control of the situation. He held the CB microphone in his hand and spoke, hoping someone was listening.

  "Any way around this cluster in the Big A?"

  A static-filled voice replied over the radio. "Clears up in about six miles," the man said.

  "10-4,"Terrance said back, "You see the 85 exit up there, Big Boss?"

  "That's a go," the man responded.

  "Good thing. Got to get to the Carolinas before noon."

  "What's your 99?" the man asked.

  "Dearborn, Michigan."

  "Good luck with that, buddy," the man said.

  "Thank ya'much," Terrance said as he hung the microphone up.

  He had left the house later planned. Just a few more moments with the wife and kids had cost him dearly, but his next three weeks on the road would be lonely. In the end, he thought it was worth it. Terrance decided to crank up the radio and listen to some old-school R&B, which only made him think of Christina. He tipped the bill of his hat down to deflect the sun's blinding beams and took a sip from his large, steaming coffee cup. He’d picked it up at the 7-Eleven where he had fueled up before starting the journey.

  The coffee tasted good, and it looked to be a nice, ordinary day, when suddenly, everything changed. Suddenly a bright flash streaked across the sky like some kind of all-encompassing lightning bolt. Following the flash, Terrance noticed silence on the radio. His switched to his CB radio, and heard nothing, not even static. His engine sputtered out, and a thin, wavy line of smoke rose from under the hood. Terrance stomped on the gas pedal, but the truck didn't respond. He shifted to neutral and coasted a few feet before applying his brakes to avoid hitting the station wagon in front of him. He shifted into park with a quick jerk of the stick and then applied the parking brake.

  "Shit," Terrance said, removing his hat and wiping a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His truck had died, and he wasn't even out of Atlanta yet. Of all the unpredictable bullshit in the world, he hadn't expected it. Maybe it was a blown gasket. Maybe the battery had failed. Something, somehow, had triggered a shutdown. In all his time driving, Terrance had never experienced a complete and random shutdown in the middle of the Interstate. He gripped the wheel with one hand and turned the key repeatedly in the other. He heard mechanical clicking noises from the steering column and little else. Then he heard nothing. The truck was deader than a twelve-hour roadkill.

  He shifted from neutral to park to reverse and tried to start the truck in each gear. He was afraid for a moment that he was holding up traffic behind him and pushed the hazard light button on his dashboards. The lights didn't work anymore than the radio or anything else inside or outside the truck worked.

  Terrance glanced into his side mirror, and then looked ahead. Traffic had stopped in both directions. And overhead traffic sign which had flashed “Heavy Congestion Ahead” a moment before was completely blank. Every car was frozen in time. Terrance rolled down his window manually and looked outside. A motorcyclist passed slowly in between lanes, gripping his handlebars to maintain balance as he doggedly pushed the bik
e forward with his legs. Terrance watched as the cyclist inched down the interstate. Drivers in cars around his truck appeared riddled with confusion.

  Hundreds of engines had shut down in unison. Drivers were left at the mercy of their once reliable vehicles, stopped dead. It was only morning, and already hot. The weather forecast predicted peaks in the high nineties throughout most of the day. Terrance saw no coincidence in any of it, and believed something major had just happened.

  To get a clearer picture, he decided to get out of the truck. No matter what he did, or how many times he turned the key, the truck wouldn't restart. Terrance climbed down the steps onto the pavement of the interstate, and slowly walked in between cars on the five-lane highway to see if was any better up ahead. Other drivers and passengers had the same idea. Hoods opened, children cried, frustrated drivers cursed under their breath, and all the while, Terrance observed everything, trying to get an idea of what was happening.

  "Just stay in the car, Linda, I'll handle this," a nearby man said. He sounded confident but looked totally dumbfounded as he examined the engine of his white four-door Buick Regal. His wife ducked back inside and sat anxiously watching from the passenger's seat.

  "Son of a bitch!" another man shouted as he fiddled with the connectors of his car battery.

  "What the hell is going on?" A woman asked a girl who was standing next to her. They stared at their smart phones in disbelief.

  "My phone's out," a man said.

  "Mine too," another responded.

  Terrance hustled some distance down the road before he stopped and turned around. He reached into his pocket to pull out his older model flip phone. He was a man who still used road maps. Even his modest flip phone was completely dead, like the other more recent models of the people around him. He held down the power button, waiting for the screen to flash on, but nothing happened. He opened it from the back, took out the battery, then placed it back in. No results.