EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME

by Mike Whitworth

  "Wayne, can I ask some questions?"

  "Sure thing Yeti."

  "Mayor, how many armed men do you think you can muster?"

  "Maybe 200 to 300, if we are lucky, maybe 400. Nearly all the men in town have rifles and most of them hunt, or used to hunt."

  "Wayne, how can we disable the MRAPs?"

  "Well," I thought as I spoke, "from what Cap told me, they are too heavily armored for rifle fire to have any effect, and they are designed with a heavily armored V-shaped bottom to deflect explosions from below. They do tip over easily though."

  "OK," Yeti smiled, "let's dump their asses over!"

  "How can we do that without getting shot?" the mayor asked.

  "Well, let me tell you," Yeti said, and proceeded to do just that.

  I looked at Yeti with newfound respect. I knew I liked the boy, well, loved him like a son really, but I had no idea he was that smart. The mayor agreed to Yeti's plan with no changes. Julie gave me a glance that told me she was both impressed and surprised by Yeti.

  We made our way to the meeting place. When we arrived, there were already about 80 men with rifles present. They all sat quietly, hidden from view of the town. I was amazed at the discipline they showed. More armed men were arriving every minute. In ten minutes there were over 200 men in the hollow. It was an army, no more, no less, and cooperation I never thought possible so early after an EMP event.

  I loved Cap like a father, but I suspected his perception of the aftermath of an EMP was based more on his personal wartime experiences than he knew. But so it is for everyone; our past lives color the present and there is no way to avoid the tint of a lifetime of experience.

  When there were about 250 men present, Yeti asked the mayor to stop anyone else coming in and send them after shovels, and picks, and hoes, and any damned thing that people could dig with. He also asked for all the black spray paint that could be had as well as black paint of any kind. A momentary thought crossed my mind that Yeti was going to drive the intruders away with graffiti. I didn't know how close to the truth that was.

  Yeti chose a position were everyone could see him and began speaking. He was eloquent and poised, far from his usual timid self. But he was growing out of that, I thought. As he lost weight he gained confidence. He was still a big boy—a huge boy—but the shape of the man he would become was beginning to peek through. I felt like a proud papa as I watched him.

  "Men, my name is Yeti and here is what we are going to do." Yeti spoke for maybe two minutes and I could see the grins grow on previously worried faces. An excitement flowed into and through the crowd. It began to infect me as well. I saw Julie was excited too. For the first time since the EMP, I felt more than just vague hope. I had a feeling that, as long as there were men like Yeti, our country would recover and maybe even surpass what it once was. I even wondered if Yeti might not become the next president of the United States, if there ever was one again.

  There was silence when Yeti finished speaking, yet the grins and an overall feeling of almost joy were palpable in that green-ringed swale. One young man about Yeti's age raised his hand. "Are you that Yeti?" he asked. I noticed more than a few puzzled looks from the older folks present, and a few younger men and boys that suddenly stared intently at Yeti.

  "If you mean the gamer, Yeti, yes that is me."

  "Wow! I can't believe it, I actually get to meet Yeti."

  The man beside him asked, "who is Yeti?"

  "Just the best gamer ever on the planet," the young man said. "He is famous throughout the World Wide Web."

  "People," Yeti said, "there is no Internet any more. This is real life—but it is still a game; a game in which we need to outsmart the intruders and win with as little damage to us and the MRAP's as possible. Those MRAPs will give Mountainair protection as long as there is fuel to be had; they will be security for you and your families through the bad times that lie ahead."

  "We will follow you!" the young man said. His words were followed by a quiet murmur in the crowd, and a large number of fists thrust into the air. Yeti had won these people over. If I could sell as well as this throwaway boy could speak, I would have been a millionaire several times over by now.

  With Julie and I, Yeti spoke little, choosing rather to hide in his shyness; a shyness that was not present now. Soon, Yeti had chosen and directed several groups of men. I could see what he had in mind, but I was again surprised at his astuteness. He chose a group of scouts; they were obviously all runners but two. These two were really fat, if anything, even fatter than Yeti. He then chose a group he called the Engineers. This was the largest group; all were strong fit men. The rest he called the Snipers. These were the least fit and soon were calling themselves the 'Fat-Boys of Death'.

  I smiled to myself. Let them enjoy their fatness while they had it. A year from now, any that were still alive would be much thinner. If the food situation was as bad as I thought it would be, I suspected more than a few people in this town would die of starvation in the coming months.

  Yeti approached me as the various groups of men quietly left for their assigned roles. "Wayne, could you lead the sniper group."

  "You mean the Fat-Boys of Death?"

  "Yeah."

  "Can they shoot?"

  "I don't know, but it doesn't matter because we have plenty of rifles in that group. I want you to meet them back here in one hour. In the meantime please get with someone who knows the town well and decide where you want your men stationed to cover as much of the town as possible. It goes without saying to keep them out of sight and well-protected."

  I smiled. This was getting good. I was thinking I had my head of security for the caravan, if Yeti would go with me. "Of course. I know the ballistics of the weapons the intruders have thanks to Cap, so I can site the snipers in locations that are as safe as possible." I paused. "Yeti, you do know that we will lose some men in this?"

  "No, Wayne, I don't think we will. Please make the snipers as safe as possible and put them in locations where they can hunker down. Their safety is more important than the accuracy of their fire."

  "You got it!" I headed off to do my job.

  Chapter 9

  Wayne

  As I mapped out possible sniper positions with two of the town's veterans, I wondered if any of the residents had obeyed the orders blasted out by the intruder's megaphone for all citizens to gather, unarmed, on main street. I hoped no one would be that foolish, but I was afraid there would be a few. There always were. I hoped the intruders didn't kill them before we had 'Operation Fat Boy' underway. I had not picked the name, the Fat-boys of Death had, and it spread throughout the townsfolk at light speed. I reckoned gossip in this town was a bitch.

  In any event, as the sniper positions were chosen, sniper teams moved out to occupy them. These were sniper teams that would make Cap grimace. They were groups of four to eight men, mostly armed with bolt-action rifles, usually .243, .270, .308, or 30-06. Most were scoped. There were a dozen or more Mosin Nagants, as well as slab-sided 30-30s and the occasional oddball, including an antique Hawkin muzzleloader that had come west in the 1830's with family, according to the owner.

  Other equipment the teams carried included lawn chairs, blankets, water jugs, and what must be the only junk food left in town. The man with the Hawkin rifle had two unopened boxes of Twinkies, no less. This whole operation seemed like it might end up as one giant clusterfuck, until I saw the determination on the faces of the residents. Then I knew we would succeed. I just hoped there weren't too many casualties.

  Preparations went on through the night. The Scouts told us that the intruders had about fifty citizens under armed guard on Main Street. The intruders showed no desire to move on or even check out the rest of the town. They seemed almost cocky, giving complete trust to their overwhelming armament. That made me wonder if they really were feds.

  The two overweight guys on the scouting team were now among the citizens guarded by the intruders. Each had a small radio that one of the
town preppers provided from his homemade faraday cage. These guys were relaying info to the Scout’s team leader as they could. That meant we had eyes on the ground.

  In any event, we now had an accurate count of how many there were. Apparently I overestimated their numbers a bit. The count now was 24. A couple of the townies were Iraqi veterans and knew much more about the MRAPs than I did. They said that the three MRAPs were jam-packed to hold this many, and—at least in normal times—that many men for three MRAPs was unusual. I wondered if, in spite of EMP hardening, some of the fed's MRAPs had failed. It wouldn't surprise me. Low bid contracts always present a few surprises.

  About six o'clock the next morning, Yeti found me and said, "Wayne, we are ready."

  I motioned to my assistants, three of the more fleet of foot of the Fat-Boys of Death, and they set off to start the ball rolling. I went to my own sniper position in the church steeple. I took both the Mosin and the 30-06. The light was just becoming good enough for shooting when Operation Fat Boy commenced.

  Simultaneously, three loud disturbances punctuated with gunfire began in town. The locations were far enough away to be out of sight of the MRAPs. Each disturbance was marked with a smoke column to guide the intruders to the location.

  The intruders scrambled back into the MRAPs and each MRAP headed toward one of the disturbances. Yeti said they would be eager, but I had no idea they would be this eager.

  They left two men holding M4's on the captured citizens. I was amazed the intruders had not killed everyone in the crowd by now, but they had not. As soon as the MRAPs were out of sight, more than 80 men filed out of nearby buildings and pointed rifles at the two intruders guarding the crowd. The two men put their guns down and hands up. I wasn't sure if they were smart, or just cowards.

  I watched from my perch as the first MRAP approached the closest disturbance at about 20 mph. The road, that appeared solid from my vantage point, collapsed under it and the MRAP slowly rolled over on its side. It was out of action and townies detained each of the intruders as they, with difficulty, exited the MRAP. Soon, this was repeated for the other two MRAPs.

  Other than diversionary rounds fired, not a single shot was needed to capture the intruders. The Fat Boys of Death had not fired a single shot. Just as Yeti said, we had no casualties. I found out later that the intruders had only two minor injuries that occurred when the MRAPs overturned. I was impressed and very pleased. I dislike having to kill people. This was a good day.

  Once the intruders were under control, they were marched to the school gym and kept there under guard. I walked to the nearest MRAP to see how it overturned. The engineers had dug trenches with slanting walls. The tilt of the trench walls was enough to dump the MRAPs over on their sides. The trenches had been covered with boards, cardboard, etc. painted black. A scattering of the ubiquitous New Mexico dust made them look just like the rest of the street. In the weak morning light, the traps were not discernible to the MRAP drivers. Apparently every possible path the MRAPs could have taken was trenched.

  I watched in amazement as crowds of townies hauled the MRAPs out of the ditches and back onto their wheels. In less than an hour, each MRAP had mechanics swarming under the hoods getting them ready for service again. The DHS emblems were painted out and new signs were painted on. The signs said Mountainair Fat Boy 1, Mountainair Fat Boy 2, and Mountainair Fat Boy 3. I was impressed. Yeti seemed everywhere at once, both directing the action and, even more often, listening to his men and giving the go ahead for what they proposed. Yeti was a natural leader.

  I was still watching the action when Julie showed up. "Quite a boy, our boy!"

  "Yes he is," I said, "I am amazed."

  "We may lose him to this town,"

  "I hope not, but you may be right. From everything I read about the possible aftermath of an EMP event, such cooperation as this is not supposed to happen."

  "Maybe that's because writers are lonely and socially inadequate people who seldom truly understand human behavior?"

  "You might just be right," I said as more than 400 men in a small podunk New Mexico town pulled together to protect their neighbors and themselves. I saw no one that day that was simply out for himself, although I am sure there were some like that in town, as there are everywhere. However, here they were in the minority. I wondered how well this cooperation would continue if food and water supplies became tight.

  I thought I knew how things would go down after an EMP. Now I had to reevaluate my predictions. Would this sort of thing affect my plans for a caravan? Would entire towns along the way form armies and try to take what we had and/or kill us? Would towns be cooperative to travelers, and, even more important, receptive to traders? Because it was a trader I wished to become. I wanted a caravan of goods and a company of strong men to accompany me, including Yeti, all the way back to Indiana.

  For a while now I had been thinking that the safest way to get home was to make my companions and myself of value to anyone we encountered. From the history I read, and history was an interest of mine, the only people allowed to pass unharmed through the territories of many early peoples were traders. Traders who brought valuable goods, be it flint, iron, daggers, axes, needles, or whatever the people needed, were often protected by decree of the local rulers. However, I could not count on protection because there were no kingdoms.

  Any trade caravan needed to be large and better armed than any brigands it might encounter. I would begin to form my caravan here in New Mexico. Surely, among the townsfolk there were a few good, solid people who craved adventure. These I would seek out and try to interest in my idea. I also knew that some others might know better than I what might work and so I must listen to them. However, I must maintain control as caravan leader if I wanted to get home to Lucy and Ben. Once I was home, another leader could take over the caravan. All I wanted was to see Lucy and Ben once more.

  There were a few things in our packs that would make good trade items. I would identify more and see about trading for them as best I could. I envisioned the caravan would start small, both in goods and number of men, and grow by astute trade and recruitment as we traveled east. Before I could start building the caravan though, I had to get Julie to her father's ranch.

  I sought out the mayor. I found him in the street watching as men filled in the excavations that trapped the MRAPs.

  "Hi Wayne," Bill said. "I think that went really well."

  "So do I Bill. Actually I am amazed it went that well."

  "But we lost three citizens because we were not ready. I am afraid that was my fault."

  "It was no one's fault, Bill. There is no way any of this was predictable. I was probably more surprised by the intruders and their MRAPs than anyone else. It was unexpected."

  "Well it sure turned out differently than what the DHS seemed to think these MRAPs were capable of."

  "That is because your town pulled together. That is a testament to you, Bill."

  "No, they are just a lot of really good folks. Also, it is a small town and everyone pretty much knows everyone else. That helped a lot."

  "I agree. I can't see this happening in a big city."

  "Me either, Wayne. But what helped most was Yeti's plan. He is really something. When I first saw him, I would have never thought it possible."

  "Nor I," I said, "but there was something about him when we first met that impressed me. Did you know he is a throwaway?"

  "No."

  Apparently his parents died some years ago. His relatives took in his brother but sent him to Child Protective Services because he was too big and fat. He has spent most of his life as an orphan."

  "That is too bad, but he is welcome here any time, as are you and Julie of course."

  "Thanks Bill. That means a lot, but I have to get home to my wife and son."

  "Where are they?"

  "Indiana."

  "That is a long way."

  "Yes, it is. I am curious to know how you plan to provide security for the town."

>   "Funny you should mention that Wayne. That has been troubling me very much of late," Bill laughed.

  "Might I suggest you call a meeting with the folks you have working on it, a few folks in town who might be knowledgeable, and see what you can come up with? I will be glad to contribute ideas."

  "Wayne, I appreciate the help very much, but I thought you were going to leave right away?"

  "Soon, Bill, but seeing this town survive and do well is important to me. I am not going anywhere right away. I have to get Julie back to her dad's ranch before I can leave for Indiana anyway. Besides, we may need to come back here if something has happened at the ranch."

  "OK Wayne, we can sure use your viewpoint and knowledge of what is happening outside of town. I will set up a meeting and let you know when and where."

  "What do you plan to do with the intruders, Bill?"

  "The police chief is trying to find out who shot our three citizens. That person, or persons, will be tried, and if convicted of murder, hung."

  "What about the rest?"

  "I don't know yet. A few folks are talking about letting them stay, but most people just want them gone. More than a few want to hang all of them. It is a touchy situation. Right now the police chief has them all under armed guard."

  "Any idea if they are really feds?"

  "No, not yet. We will know soon enough. They do seem to have proper ID though."

  Bill and I shook hands and I went to find Yeti and Julie. Julie was in the café, so I joined her. She was sitting at the table in the corner as close to the kitchen as possible, and away from the front entrance. I didn't know if her table choice was deliberate or unconscious, but I figured the intruder's invasion of the town left a mark on both of us.

  "Are you anxious to get to your dad's ranch?"

  "Of course. I am worried about him."

  "I have a meeting about town security with the mayor and some others. We can leave after that. I suspect the meeting will be tomorrow."

  "That will be fine. It will be dark soon anyway. Where do you want to camp?" Julie asked.