No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset

by J. S. Donvan Donvan

  Mila sat quiet and reserved as Rob turned the ignition off. She thought of her earlier urgency, of wanting to get to the cabin as soon as possible. After seeing what had become of their town, their streets, the neighboring city, she had thought her mind made up. But something about the familiarity and comfort of their home made everything better.

  It was hard to explain to Josh and Kelly the importance of uprooting their lives for an undisclosed period. And then there was her job. What of the hospital? What of her patients? Could she really leave it all behind? She was beginning to feel a little bit like Josh.

  But she also trusted Rob’s instincts. His quick thinking had assured her so far that they had a chance. She thought of Chet, the man who had harassed her. She was lucky to have her gun on her. How many more people were out there, closing in on their neighborhood, just like him?

  “All good?” Rob asked and turned off the ignition switch.

  Mila and Kelly said, “Yes,” in return. Being told to pack for potentially months in a short amount of time and space was a bit overwhelming. This much Rob understood.

  “Just focus on the necessities,” he said. “We can always make two trips if needed.”

  They opened their doors and stepped out. Rob went to Kelly and knelt down in front of her, offering a light hug.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. Her face still looked shaken.

  “OK, I guess. Just a little hungry.”

  Rob took her by the hand and led her inside as Mila followed. It was getting dark and the air was stuffy.

  “I’ll open some windows,” he said.

  “Come on,” Mila said to Kelly. “Let’s see what we can pack for you.”

  They went off down the hall as Rob opened the living room and kitchen windows, letting in a cool breeze. He thought about the house and how much he wanted to take everything. Were they doing the right thing by abandoning it? Was there any other way? He eliminated his doubt as he walked toward Josh’s room. His son could be heard rifling through his closet.

  “How’s it going in here?” he said, pushing the door open. His blinds were open, and the sun was rapidly descending. A lush, orange sky could be seen outside the window. They were running out of time. Traveling in the mountains at night posed its own challenges—their headlights could be seen for miles.

  Josh threw a pile of clothes onto his bed. His room was a mess of video games, shoes, skateboard, and books lying everywhere.

  “What am I actually supposed to pack here? I have no idea.”

  Rob strolled in and took a seat at the end of his bed. “No electronics. They’re useless now. Clothes. Hygiene stuff. Winter jackets. Blankets. It’s going to get cold up there.”

  Josh stood in the middle of the room, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it.”

  “We won’t be there forever. All I ask is that you understand that the safety of this family is my top priority,” Rob said.

  “Yes, Dad. I get it.” Josh bent down, grabbed another pile of clothes, and tossed it on the bed. “This is the worst day of my life.”

  Rob stood up and approached Josh, helping him sort through his clothes. “Things will get better, I promise.”

  Josh didn’t respond and just seemed to hang his head in defeat.

  “After you get packed, I need your help with a few other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Making sure that your sister and mom are good to go. We’re the men of the family, Josh, and we need to act like it.”

  Josh grabbed his cell phone. “My friends. They could still be at the museum, or they made it home. But I’ll never know, will I?” He threw the phone across the room, hitting his dresser.

  “We have work to do, Josh,” Rob said. “It’s time for you to put everything behind you for now and do what’s best for your family.”

  Josh turned to Rob, surprised by his matter-of-fact tone. He was too exhausted to argue any longer. There was nothing left to say.

  They walked to the garage together. Helicopters raced above the house, giving them chills. With only an hour or so of precious daylight left, they got to work.

  The Datsun was quickly loaded with everything that could fit inside the trunk and on the top of the car. Rob wrapped containers and boxes over the top railing with bungee cords like they were going on extended vacation. Josh thought of the cabin and what he was going to do out there. He liked to fish and then noticed his pole in the corner near the washer and dryer. He grabbed it and then remembered something else.

  “Do we still have room for my tackle box?” he asked Rob.

  Rob finished fastening the last bungee. “Yeah, there should be some room in the truck.”

  Josh went into the house to get it. After the initial shock, their trip was beginning to feel more like a vacation. Rob did a mental check of everything they had packed so far: emergency food kits, medical supplies, bug-out bags, weapons and ammunition. In the meantime, it seemed as if everyone was packed and ready. Mila and Kelly brought their bags out. Josh soon followed. For Rob, it was a sobering sight to see. They were really leaving.

  ***

  After packing everything they needed, the family took the forty-minute drive to the cabin with a quarter tank left of their gas and a jumbled congestion of vehicles along their path. They left their house with the windows closed, locked, and covered, hoping to return home soon.

  It was early evening as Rob drove up the winding hills of Bear Lake Mountain Road to where a quaint three-bedroom cabin awaited, far into the mountains and away from the civilized world. Rob knew the roads well, and he also expected to find a few others who had cabins in the area. People, like him, who prepped. With no way of knowing who had made it or not, Rob didn’t hold any expectations, but little by little, he was sure people would began to arrive.

  His people owned bug-out vehicles as well with escape plans similar to his. He trusted each of them and was certain that they could stave off the elements together and live off the land safely in relative harmony.

  The camp community consisted of two families and two couples—all resourceful preppers—who had had purchased the cabins in the event of a national crisis or disaster. They were residents of Nyack, except for one Long Island family, and they were also frequent customers to his store. He hadn’t seen a lot of them in a while and hoped that they were OK.

  “Have you heard from anyone else?” Mila asked, referring to the prepper group.

  “No, not yet,” Rob answered. He fiddled with the emergency radio in his lap, trying to get a decent signal. “I hope to see everyone soon, or at least in the next day or two.”

  Mila grabbed the radio from him. “Let me see that. You need to keep your eyes on the road.”

  Not much more came over the radio. There were continual advisements for residents to stay inside their homes, almost as if that was the government’s only plan. But beyond that, they weren’t any closer to finding out who was behind the EMP and why. The time wasn’t right and the government wasn’t speaking. There would be no real answers for some time.

  Twenty miles from the cabin, Kelly was knocked out, resting after some ibuprofen Mila had given her. Josh stared out the window as Mila dug through her purse.

  “Damn it. Forgot our passports.”

  “Don’t worry, I grabbed them,” Rob said.

  “Oh,” Mila said, relieved. “Thank you.”

  “What do we need passports for?” Josh asked.

  Rob’s eyes looked into the rear-view mirror. “Just in case we have to leave the country.”

  “You’re serious?” Josh asked.

  Their lack of response told Josh all he needed to know.

  Mila looked out the window and then covered her mouth.

  “What is it?” Rob asked.

  “I was on shift tonight. Oh no. We should have at least swung by the hospital. They’re going to be so worried.”

  Rob gently placed a hand over hers. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who didn’t show.”


  “But what about our patients? Surely there has to be some kind of backup generator or something. Right?” She looked at Rob, frantic and waiting for an answer.

  “Yes. I’m sure there are. You need to put it out of your mind. Just for tonight.”

  It all fell like a bad dream. Their very livelihoods had changed. Bills, school, work, exercise, family time—all routines given an immediate moratorium. What would their new routines consist of?

  “Almost there, gang,” Rob said as they ascended a narrow hill leading to a dirt road where the cabin awaited. He could see the small wood structure in the distance, concealed under a patch of redwood trees. It stood ten feet in the air on wood beams—to keep wildlife and bugs from getting in. Wooden steps led to the front door. Beyond the windows, the house was as black as the night sky.

  The air was cool and the town below was indistinguishable from the blackness of the forest. Rob had always wondered what a city without lights would look like in the evening—what things must have looked like two hundred years before. During their trip, his question had been answered, and there was no comfort to what they had seen.

  ***

  They soon settled in, unpacked, and moved everything into their three-bedroom cabin in the rolling hills of Bear Mountain. Within the camp, there were five cabins total spread throughout three acres of forest. The others soon showed up, just as Rob expected. There was Peter and his wife, Krystal. The Santos family—Carlos, Mayra, and their children Gabriel and Antonio. Elliott and Reba, an older couple, who had long relocated to their cabin after retirement. And Brad and Ashlee, a young couple with five children.

  The initial reunion between families was heartfelt and affirming. The families were excited to see each other and overwhelmed by the crisis that had sent them into mountains. But now, the real work was upon them. They were going to have to hunker down and work together if there was any chance of survival.

  Days passed, then weeks, and their routines soon became second nature. The days consisted of fishing, hunting, cooking, boiling water, gardening, and most importantly, learning from each other. There were even a few rooms set aside for the kids to go to school. It was life in the wilderness among a tight-knit group of people who trusted each other, motivated by their mutual longing for the return of normalcy so that they could go home.

  Two months had passed and Rob’s family hadn’t left camp. Too many troubling developments were announced over the radio. Gunshots and looting could be heard from the town below. From their carefully placed lookout tower, Rob could see fire and smoke almost daily from his binoculars. Nyack didn’t look to be faring too well from afar. The faith and hope that had brought the camp together was put to the test with each day they remained without answers or assurances.

  Their “temporary bug-out” had extended past the two-month mark, and the news had gotten worse. The power grids were no more repaired than the cars on the road. The town was too dangerous to venture into. Their supplies were dwindling even with an emphasis on rationing. But plans were in the works for a supply run. It had to happen, despite whatever madness had gripped their town below.

  Rob was on a morning walk when he ran into Peter, who had just finished his guard shift.

  “Morning, Rob,” said Peter, an energetic gray-haired man in his fifties. He and his wife, Krystal, were both well-to-do realtors and among some of Rob’s most loyal customers—when he’d had his store.

  “Hiya, Peter,” Rob said.

  Peter held a hunting rifle in hand, a camouflaged jacket, and black boonie cap. He looked worn from his long guard shift.

  “I just wanted to share something real quick.”

  Rob looked on, interested. “Sure. What do you have?

  Peter brought his hand to his chin. “I was thinking about what you were talking about the other day. About when you and Mila went into the city to get your kids.” Peter stopped, took his boonie cap off, and wiped his forehead.

  “What about it?” Rob asked.

  Peter’s eyes were intense and wide. “They’re doing that everywhere, not just through the Bronx and Manhattan, or wherever you saw it. It’s part of a nationwide operation to clear the most densely populated areas of the country.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rob said. “Where did you hear this?”

  “From a buddy on my mobile HAM signal. It’s called Operation Urban Breach. A classified operation where they make room for complete militarization.”

  Rob flashed him a skeptical look, but wasn’t entirely dismissive. What he had seen was every bit as Peter described.

  “They know that after the EMP millions of vehicles are nothing but useless hunks of metal blocking the road. So what is the government going to do, just leave them there? Who owns the roads, Rob? Think about it.”

  Rob was deep in contemplation. Everything Peter was saying made sense. It just seemed so… impossible. How could the government pull off such a thing?

  “And no word on who attacked us and why?” Rob asked. “Two months later and none of your buddies know.”

  Peter shook his head. “Haven’t heard anything.”

  Rob thanked Peter and went about his morning hike. At the very least, he had quite the story to tell Mila. He walked up a cliff and examined the open fields and tiny houses miles away. Thin waves of smoke trailed in the distance. It always smelled like smoke because something was always on fire.

  For the time being, nothing was going to change. The outdoor life was just like any other. They were a community of people who lived in the area, dedicated to one united goal of survival. And so far, it was working. Two months in the mountains had left them disconnected from their normal lives, wondering if it was still possible to make the transition back to who they were before.

  Despite the relative anonymity that surrounded them at camp, the times were changing. And on the afternoon of Sunday, November 19, things were about to get a lot more interesting. They had been discovered. And it was no accident. The men who watched them from a safe distance believed them to be thieves, for their latest supply run had crossed into gang territory.

  About a hundred yards from the camp, a black fedora hat rose from the bushes, revealing a tall man in a leather jacket. He had a small group with him. Bulky, intimidating men with tattoos, scars, and gold teeth, while some were missing teeth. The man, along with his gang of convicts, had taken over Nyack and claimed it as their own. Now they had an outside threat to deal with.

  Mayor Jenkins called his men to advance, and they hiked up the latest hill, getting closer to the stretch of cabins before them. They had been staking it out for some time, studying their activities, defenses, and routines. The gang held their rifles close to their chests and moved with a stealth similar to the maneuvering that saw their prison escape.

  Jenkins halted them again. They heard something not far ahead.

  “What is it?” Larry asked. His braided hair hung over his jacket.

  “We need to be careful from here on out. These people are armed and they know the area ten times better. They’re not going to be as easy as the preacher and his folks. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Larry said.

  They waited for a few minutes and then advanced further. The men were itching for a shootout. Murder was on their mind and vengeance in their hearts.

  Grid Down Book 1

  Before the Attack

  Arthur Jenkins sat in his cell at the Rockland County Correctional Institute, eager to start the day. His parole hearing was in one hour, and if things went as planned, it would soon be the last time he woke up staring at the cracked-cement walls surrounding him. Six years of the same routine had long worn on him. Six years of being told when to get up, when to eat, what to do, and when to do it was a never-ending drudgery of unimaginable strain.

  He was surprised by how quickly the years had passed and even more surprised to see how much he had adjusted to it. Years prior to his incarceration, the very idea of him ever going to prison was absurd. As a small-ti
me land developer with large ambitions, he had his sights set on running for mayor in the upper-class village-town of Nyack, New York—where he resided with his wife, Teresa.

  He sought office as an independent outsider, but had been easily defeated by incumbent mayor, Jeanine Layton, three consecutive times. Stunned but undeterred by his losses, he remained more determined than ever to win the next election through any means necessary.

  The door to his cell creaked open. A mustached and burly corrections officer, Sergeant Rutzler, stood with one gloved hand resting over his belt, near his pistol, and the other holding the door.

  “Rise and shine, Jenkins,” he said. “Your hearing begins in an hour.”

  Fully dressed in a gray suit and tie, Arthur turned his head slightly to the side, barely taking notice of the officer. “I’m well aware of that, thank you.”

  Rutzler placed his hand over his gun. “You know the drill. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Arthur did as he was told, and faced the small window that overlooked the prison courtyard. Beyond the courtyard was a tall fence with rolls of concertina wire running along the top. Far beyond the fence was the slightly visible outskirts of Nyack. Arthur would often stare out the window of his cell as the world passed by year after year, imagining all the people going about their daily lives, free to do as they wished. He envied them to the point of sickness.

  An associate’s voice rang through his head. “You do the crime, you do the time.”

  But Arthur had done his time as far as he was concerned.

  “Let’s move,” Rutzler said, jerking him out of the cell. He led Arthur down a darkened hallway past several cells on both sides. As he glanced through the long vertical window slits on each door, Arthur could see his fellow prison mates, up and moving about.

  “We’re going to swing by the cafeteria, but make it fast,” Rutzler said, guiding Arthur along with hand against his back.

  “Not a problem,” Arthur said. He walked with a confident, easy stride. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping the parole committee waiting.”