When The Grid Went Down

by Nick Randall

  “Are you crazy?! We just nearly got killed!” said one of the men.

  “Mike did get killed!” said another of the men, referencing the dead man in the shotgun seat.

  The Bronco didn’t even stick around. Its driver swung the car around and took off back down the road, headed for the safety of the Compound.

  It was a useless cause, Gale could see. His men were not prepared to fight. The best thing they could do at this point was head back to the Compound, meet up with this father, and decide what to do from there once daylight had hit.

  Without a word, Gale slammed the door shut, turned the Blazer around, and followed the retreating Bronco.

  The Parkers were still shooting even after both the Blazer and the Bronco had disappeared behind the corner.

  “They’re pulling back!” Robert yelled over the gunfire. “Hold fire, don’t waste ammo!”

  The group ceased firing as both of the enemy vehicles disappeared around the corner. They waited for a few moments to make sure that the vehicles didn’t return again before lowering their weapons.

  “Is everybody alright?!” asked Bruce, swapping mags in his 1911.

  Everyone confirmed that they were indeed fine and not hit.

  Randall ran straight for the first Hi-Lux to find Thomas laying in the back. His face was beaten, bloodied, and barely recognizable, and his fingers each twisted.

  Though weak, Thomas was still conscious. He was strong and he was a fighter. Randall knew he would make it even if the recovery period would be long and painful.

  Thomas managed to get out two words to Randall: “Thank you.”

  Randall smiled and wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but didn’t for fear that it would exacerbate Thomas’ pain.

  “Let’s get this stupid log out of the way!” barked Marcus, running over to it while trying to sling his AR-15 over his shoulder. “Randall help me out with it!”

  “Claire, Jane, keep an eye out for more vehicles!” ordered Robert, as he and Bruce ran over to assist Marcus and Randall with moving the log.

  Chapter Two

  Eventually, the group managed to move the fallen log and climb back into the trucks.

  They made their way back to the lake cabin at Priest Lake but were extremely careful about the route they took just in case they were to be followed.

  As they were on a dirt road in the middle of the woods, they didn’t come across anybody else walking on the road, to Randall’s relief. The very fact that they had two trucks that were still working after the EMP attack meant that they were now extremely wealthy people. The overwhelming majority of vehicles were in no working condition at all, and only the older vehicles without computerized systems were still running.

  The only thing was, Randall knew those kinds of vehicles were now rare…very rare. If they came across anybody desperate for a working car, there would be a fight.

  The group saw no indication that they were being followed. No headlights through the trees or down the road in front of them or behind them. Everyone blew a big sigh of relief.

  Dawn was breaking out and the sun shining over the north Idaho mountains when they finally made it back to the lake cabin.

  Barry, Christine, Angela, and Susan were waiting for them.

  Marcus and Robert got out first and quickly carried Thomas into the cabin.

  “Jane, keep an eye out for enemies,” Robert ordered Jane when she tried to lend a hand.

  Her older brother of twelve years yelling orders at her was something that Jane didn’t exactly enjoy, but she understood the direness of the situation. Her trusty old lever action hadn’t left her hands all night, and she didn’t suspect that it would for the rest of the day either if she was to be the designated watchman of the group.

  Thomas was taken into the one of the bedrooms and laid on the bed. He was tended to by Christine, Susan, and Angela while the rest of the group met with Barry in the dining room to explain what had happened.

  “We’ve been up all night waiting for you,” said Barry, solemnly. “And we may be up for many more nights after this one. We’ve all got a target on our backs now. This is life-and-death, you all understand this, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  At 78 years of age, Barry’s wisdom and experience made him the de facto patriarch of the family. Everyone who ever knew Barry had always held him in high regard, and his family members were no exception.

  “We made sure we weren’t followed,” said Robert.

  “Yeah, but just because you didn’t see anybody doesn’t mean you weren’t,” Barry said back. “And we’ve got two of their trucks now, they’ll want ‘em back.”

  “Many other people will too,” Randall spoke up. “Those two Toyotas are among the very few vehicles that are in working condition. We’ve got to keep them hidden and use them sparingly.”

  “So what do we do then?” said Claire, sitting next to her husband Robert and holding his hand. “Wait here? Evacuate to somewhere else?”

  “This is a good location,” said Randall. “Access to water, good land and resources, secluded, and enough room for everybody. We leave, we’ll be exposed and we may not find anywhere better.”

  “We may not even be as secluded as you think,” said Bruce. “If we were followed, we could literally be attacked at any minute.”

  “Jane’s outside on patrol for now, she’ll alert us if she sees anyone or anything,” said Robert.

  “I didn’t see any headlights following us after we moved the log,” Marcus claimed. “But like dad said earlier, that doesn’t mean we’re truly safe.”

  “So I ask again, what do we do now?” said Claire, and the whole room fell silent.

  Finally, Barry broke the silence. “We shouldn’t leave this place yet. Our two priorities now need to be seeing to it that Thomas has a good recovery and that no one from the Compound finds out about this cabin. We’ll need more people on patrol and we must always be on our guard from now on.”

  “How are we doing on supplies?” asked Randall. “Food, water, medicine, clothes, fuel, ammo?”

  Since Randall had just arrived to the cabin the last day, he had no idea about the amount of provisions the group had.

  “We’ll worry about that later,” said Barry. “We have enough stuff to get by for now.”

  The tone of Barry’s voice communicated to Randall that they were running low and would need to be replenished soon. He had known his grandfather long enough to know that was what he was really saying.

  Bruce went into one of the rooms and less than ten seconds later came back with a Remington 870 pump action shotgun.

  He racked a 12 gauge round into the chamber, rested it next to the front door, and said, “Anybody tries to break in who wants to harm us, nail ‘em with a double-aught buckshot round from this.”

  “Uh…we’ll need a lot more than just a shotgun at the door,” said Robert.

  “So what do you suggest?” Bruce asked his son.

  “From now on, everybody needs to carry a pistol on them at all times,” said Robert. “And I mean at all times. It’s the only way to ensure everybody will always be armed and ready to fight in an emergency.”

  “Do we have enough pistols to go around?” Randall asked.

  After taking a quick inventory of their available firearms, it turned out the group had just enough handguns for everyone to carry one holstered on their belt.

  Randall was surprised that the group had as many guns with them as they did, but Marcus informed them that they had planned to go target shooting when everybody met up at the lake cabin before the EMP had struck, so they had all brought quite a few firearms and ammunition up.

  Susan and Angela came back into the room and announced that Thomas was now sleeping with Christine staying in the room with him. They had bandaged up his wounds, applied splints to his broken fingers, and given him a glass of cold water.

  Randall looked out the front window of the cabin and to the lake. On the good side of things, his bro
ther had been rescued and was now safe and recovering from his injuries, they had two working vehicles, and no one had been hurt during the rescue mission. At long last, his entire family was united together under the same roof.

  But for the bad, he knew they would need to replenish their supplies soon, and they were now official enemies of the largest survivalist community in north Idaho.

  And to add to the already dire situation, they still had no idea about what was going on. Who had launched the EMP? How was the American government reacting? Was the US at war? How much of the United States had the EMP affected? When would things go back to normal, if ever?

  So many questions and yet so few answers. It had been a full month since the EMP had gone off and Randall felt so helpless knowing absolutely nothing about what was going on with the outside world.

  Randall’s mental and physical exhaustion finally gained control of him, and he fell asleep in the chair.

  Chapter Three

  The Compound

  Lewis Butler stood in his office in the Compound, hands on his hips, in complete disbelief at the attack that had just taken place that night.

  “How many of our people are killed or wounded?” Butler asked George.

  “None dead, but two guards were shot,” replied George. “Both of them are in the infirmary now, one may not make it. He was bleeding pretty badly, took a rifle round to the lung. A few of our vehicles’ tires were also spiked so we’re replacing them now.”

  Butler cursed himself under his breath for being so stupid. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility that Thomas’ people would attempt a rescue mission to save him, let alone so soon. As a result, he hadn’t put his guards on high alert for the night.

  This was a mistake Butler would not mistake again. He promised himself that right then and there.

  The gunfire had awoken all of the residents in the Compound, and they had come out of their homes and were now assembled on the main streets below the main building, shouting and demanding answers. Facing them and re-assuring them that things would be fine was the last thing Butler wanted to do, but he knew he had to soon or else he would lose power.

  In the years prior to when Butler had built the Compound, it had been a very controversial and large scale project that garnered much press attention. But two thousand people were drawn to live in it not only because of Butler’s promise that a community of like-minded survivalists could live together and depend on one another in times of strife and disaster, but also because Butler had promised them that they would be safe no matter how bad things got. The large wall that surrounded the residential homes and other buildings represented that safety, and it had been effortlessly breached by the invading party last night.

  Now the residents were scared, and understandably so. Many of them had small children. The two men who had been shot last night and were now in the infirmary fighting for their lives had wives and children of their own.

  “Where’s Gale now?” asked Butler, referring to his other son and George’s brother.

  “He took two vehicles and went after them,” said George, anticipating an angry reaction from his father.

  “Dammit he needs to be back here!” shouted Butler so loudly and forcefully that even George was startled despite anticipating it.

  “He will be soon,” George assured him after a moment of silence. “I know he will.”

  Butler thought of his third and last son, Gerald, killed a couple days before in a violent skirmish with Randall and Thomas. Out of his three sons, Gerald was the most gentle and the one who would always seek a peaceful resolution first. He believed in his father’s survivalist mentality and in the mission of the Compound, but he was the least prone to resorting to violence. He had gotten along well with the members of the Community and knew almost everyone’s names. He was a true extrovert and someone liked people, in contrast to Butler, George’s, and Gerald’s more introverted and violent prone nature.

  The shouting from outside hadn’t died away, and if anything it had gotten more intense. If Butler didn’t get out there soon, they would come knocking on his door.

  Finally, Butler told George: “Let’s go.”

  Butler stomped outside, stepping over spent shell casings in the process, George following him.

  Around half of the Compound’s residents were gathered on the street and still yelling and shouting. The few men guarding Butler’s office building were having an unsuccessful time getting them to calm down.

  Butler raised his hands, indicating for the people to quiet so he could speak. They did and the floor was Butler’s.

  “I know you all are scared and want answers about the gunfire you heard last night,” began Butler.

  “DUH!” someone yelled, and many more yelled in agreement.

  Butler raised his hands again and they quieted down.

  “We’re living in the aftermath of what is easily the worst attack in the history of our nation,” said Butler. “Based on our intelligence, the power grid is completely down all across North America, and things aren’t getting back to normal for a long time. These are dangerous times, and there are bad people out there who want to harm us.”

  “What happened?!” a woman shouted impatiently.

  Rose McGarry stepped forward grasping the hands of her two small children, a boy and a girl. Her face was reddened and tears streamed down her cheeks. Despite Butler’s tough nature, he couldn’t help but sympathize with her.

  “My husband was one of the guards who was shot last night by those murderous invaders,” she said. “They don’t know if he can make it. We have the right to know exactly what happened, and we deserve to know right now.”

  There was another moment of silence. All eyes and attention were on Butler. Finally —

  “Alright, you want to know exactly what happened? You all want to know exactly what’s taken place and why two of our people are fighting for their lives in the infirmary now? I’ll tell you what happened.”

  He paced back and forth a little bit before continuing:

  “A couple days ago, my son Gerald and two more of our men went out on routine patrol. While they were out there two men got the drop on them. They shot and killed my son without asking questions.”

  Butler knew that wasn’t true. Actually, the opposite had happened and it was Gerald who had gotten the drop on Randall and Thomas, who were forced to shoot to defend themselves.

  But Butler continued, his voice cracking:

  “I don’t know about all you people, but you do not harm any of my family and get away with it, and you most certainly do not… you most certainly do not kill my son and expect to get no retribution. So I sent out Gale and more of our men to find those two bastards and bring them to justice. They captured one but the other got away and made it back to his group. We questioned the prisoner, Thomas Parker was his name, for answers on who he is, who his people are, and why he killed my son. The tough son of a bitch wouldn’t give up anything no matter how hard we tried.”

  Butler rubbed his fists, which were still bruised from beating Thomas the night before. Rose and the rest of the crowd continued listening intently.

  “So last night, Thomas’ brother and the rest of their gang snuck into our walls. It was my fault I didn’t have more guards on high alert, and I accept responsibility for that. They broke in, shot two of our men, stole two of our trucks, and took off with our prisoner. My son Gale went out after them, and he isn’t back yet, so for all we know they killed him too.”

  “That’s what happened, you swear to God that’s exactly what happened?” asked Rose through tears.

  Butler looked at Rose, and then said, “That is exactly what happened. That is the whole truth. These people are a threat to our community and they have shown more than once that they are willing to commit murder. We cannot let them terrorize us or anybody else for that matter and get away with it. It’s up to us to go out there, find them, and put a stop to them. If we don’t, more of our people will die.�
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  A short man in the crowd, Dale Smith, stepped forward next to Rose.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Lewis, I truly am,” said Dale. “But we came here to your community because you promised we would survive together. If we go out there after these people, even if we win, we’ll only lose more of our own.”

  Several members in the crowd murmured in agreement.

  “We have to go out and kill those murdering bastards, or else they’ll be back sooner or later,” said Butler. “It’s a risk but one we have to take for the good of the community.”

  “This is a personal vendetta for you, not something that’s good for all of us,” countered Dale. “Even if this Thomas Parker fella murdered your son in cold blood, it sounds to me like the whole reason his people came here was just to rescue him, and that alone shows they’re a tight family and won’t go down without a fight. Maybe if we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone too from now on. The whole thing will die down.”