Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story

by Holden, J. J.

  “Okay, I’m going to start with some news,” Arnerich interrupted. “All roads leaving Denver-Aurora are blocked off. No non-military traffic outbound without a permit, which the Denver mayor’s office is the only one authorized to issue.”

  He paused, and the stunned room went as silent as David himself. Since when did a mayor have the right to ignore the Constitution? He couldn’t possibly think he’d get away with it… Unless he knew something that David didn’t. Something about the situation they were experiencing.

  David’s heart sped up at the thought. Whatever that something was, it couldn’t be good for the people of whom he liked to think himself a protector.

  The captain coughed into his hand. “I see that doesn’t sit good with you all. Yes, well, that was my reaction as well, but I’m told the governor signed off on it. That being said, the mayor has ordered us to assist with the enforcement of this blockade. And it couldn’t come at a worse time—we’re already stretched thin, preventing looting and securing private prop…eh, I mean securing the resources in stores. That’s continuing, too, by the way, ‘until the assets of use to the community’ have been relocated somewhere easier to secure.”

  Another officer, whom David couldn’t see through the crowd in the room, said, “You mean, somewhere easier to hide the loot? That can’t even be legal. Shouldn’t we be arresting him, stopping him from doing that, instead of helping?”

  Arnerich pursed his lips and paused before replying, in a low voice, “I don’t ever want to hear that kind of talk again. We will do as the mayor orders. He’s in the chain of command, several pay-grades above my head. Let him worry about any legal fallout and follow orders. Because, in the end, you can be one of us, or you can be one of those sorry jackasses out there wondering if their kids will eat tonight.”

  An awkward silence followed, and it stretched on and on. Apparently, the officer who’d spoken what was on David’s mind, too, had chosen not to fight it further. And as much as David wanted to think of the man as a coward, he wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to disobey orders, either. There was probably a damn good reason for all of this, even if no one bothered to tell a beat cop like him. Besides, he could do nothing to help people if he handed in his badge. He kept telling himself that, but it still didn’t feel right.

  “What this means,” Arnerich eventually continued, “is that we’re doubling up the number of units patrolling major paths of egress from Denver metro, specifically to prevent anyone from leaving. I have reliable word that Denver has also absorbed Aurora’s police department into D-P-D, and we’re working with their officers in the field.”

  Another officer said, “You mean, they’re pairing us off to make sure Aurora P-D toes the party line.”

  “If you want to think of it like that. I don’t.”

  Someone asked, “What about people trying to come in?”

  Arnerich shook his head. “Everyone’s trying to leave, not come in, but if they do, detention is the order of the day—not ‘arrest’—and then delivered to the nearest high school campus.”

  Detention, not arrest… David shook his head. Same thing, but one sounded scarier to the sheep, more than likely.

  Orien, beside him, said softly, “The rumors are true, then. They’re turning the schools into FEMA camps.”

  David glared at Orien. “Bullcrap. I didn’t see any FEMA vehicles. This is all the mayor, with the governor’s blessing. But maybe he has a reason we don’t yet know.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he does or not. We work for him, not the people.” Orien shrugged. “I like eating.”

  Arnerich continued his speech. “High schools are being used to ‘humanely house’ such trespassers,” he said, emphasizing the word like it had a bitter taste, “who we’ll detain there until their alleged legitimate business in Denver is authorized, after due diligence.”

  “Whatever that means,” someone said.

  Arnerich banged on his podium with his bare knuckles, hard. “Stop this crap right here. We’re cops. We protect people, but the mayor tells us how we’ll do that. Those decisions are above my pay grade, and they’re sure as hell above yours. Anyone who doesn’t want to lead or follow better get the hell out of the way, and I’ll remind you all that there are plenty of people who would love to take your job. Hell, half of them would do it just for the food. Never mind the free coffee and donuts.”

  Polite chuckles in the crowd, though laughing was far from David’s mind. He repeated in his head, over and over, that the mayor had a damn good reason for all of this. It was too deliberate, too well organized, to be some knee-jerk reaction from the mayor’s office. This smacked of a contingency plan being enacted. That helped him feel at least a little better about following the unorthodox orders. A little.

  After the briefing, Orien suggested they just go on patrol rather than going “home,” because their shift would have begun in a couple hours anyway. David hadn’t felt like going home to do nothing but sit around anyway, so he had agreed.

  As they pulled out of the parking lot, David asked, “What’d you think of the latest addition to our job description, rookie?”

  Orien was silent for a moment, and David was about to re-ask, in case he hadn’t been heard, when he answered, “I think it’s to protect all of Denver’s neighbors. Things aren’t too bad, yet, but soon, we’ll be stopping hordes of angry, hungry Denverites from looting and overrunning the surrounding towns. You know, like the Berlin Wall.”

  “Oh, come on. First, it’s nothing like the Berlin Wall. You’re too young to even remember it. But you can’t think protecting our neighbors is a bad thing, in and of itself, can you? Questions of legality aside, protecting people from each other is mostly what we do all night anyway, right?”

  Orien looked right at David, his expression inscrutable, long enough that David started to feel uncomfortable.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?”

  Without a pause, Orien said, “I told you what I think it is. But I get the sense you think it’s something else. What’s on your mind with all these leading questions?”

  David drove onward without replying. Only a block further, as his gaze danced between mirrors, gauges, and what was in front of him, he saw one of those ration stations Orien had mentioned. Outside it, dozens of people had lined up to get their allotments. He’d heard those included everything from rice to toothpaste. And it was all distributed under the watchful eyes of armed National Guardsmen and some clerk from the mayor’s office, who was walking down the line with a clipboard and stopping to talk to each person. Likely, he was taking names and issuing the vouchers for their subsistence-level food and necessities.

  Thank goodness police officers didn’t have to stand in those lines, bathed in sweat from the uncharacteristic May heat, begging for permission not to starve like those poor people. No, his worst problem was that he didn’t rank highly enough to have coffee included in his allotment. Hopefully, once the program had been in place longer than a day, they’d give him some fresh grounds, too. Or he could buy them off someone who did get that.

  But the deeper truth was darker than mere coffee woes. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t push away the more worrying suspicion that this had nothing at all to do with protecting neighboring communities, and everything to do with keeping “those people” in Aurora from taking their own stuff somewhere else, and that the Denver powers-that-be wanted to keep that from being consumed so they could loot it later. If the mayor could basically annex Aurora with no vote, no say, not even a discussion…then there was no reason he wouldn’t take other communities’ resources, too. Here in Denver, they called it “requisitioning,” but if they started doing it in neighboring communities, David could only think of one word to describe it.

  Looting.

  He prayed the mayor would stop short of “requisitioning” what belonged to those other towns, too.

  The radio crackled, but at least the two news radio hosts came through clearly enough for Chr
istine to understand, without too much effort.

  Man: And now for our Sunpocalypse Updates. Situation normal, all messed up.

  Woman: Hehe, that’s not how that figure of speech goes, Jim.

  Man: This is a family network, Stacy. (laughs)

  Woman: Yes, it is, Jim, and we thank our listeners for tuning in to hear all about what’s going on. How are the supplies? I know you heard back from the mayor’s office.

  Man: I sure did, Stacy. They’re telling us that many of the smaller stores continue to report shortages in some categories, particularly dairy and produce. But they also have a message for those wanting to leave Denver—

  Woman: Stay put, folks; you’re safer in your own homes.

  Man: That’s exactly right. At a news conference only an hour ago, the mayor detailed portions of his exciting new plan to weather this temporary storm. And it is temporary, they assure us.

  Woman: As part of that plan, the larger stores have been requisitioned for the duration of this crisis—

  Man: This temporary crisis.

  Woman: —So that Denver citizens can rest assured, the city can ensure all its citizens receive the basics for comfort and survival. But Jim, we all know how much food restaurants waste. The mayor’s plan stops that, thank goodness. All restaurants—the biggest wasters of food—have been closed by order of the mayor’s office.

  Man: Right, Stacy. And don’t forget, as we were the first to tell our listeners, all roads in and out of the Denver-Aurora metro have been sealed. So if you’re planning on leaving—

  Woman: Foolishly.

  Man: If you’re foolishly planning on leaving, your best bet is to use the smaller surface streets and farm roads, but you take your chances. The travel ban is here for everyone’s protection, but it won’t work without your help.

  Woman: Stay home. I can’t say it enough. And if you see someone trying to leave despite the ban, let someone know about it when you go for your allotment. These are scheduled to begin at your closest bigger grocery store or market. We can’t all get by when we don’t all work together.

  Man: If you travel, be aware of your surroundings and avoid groups of people. There are isolated reports of looting, and there was a small riot near West Colefax and Broadway.

  Woman: Fortunately, local police and National Guardsmen were able to peacefully disperse the protestors, with no loss of life—

  Christine turned the radio off. At Mary’s questioning look, she said, “Saving the battery. The talking heads aren’t saying anything new.”

  Mary shrugged. “Okay. You know, that’s where I live, that riot area.”

  “Yeah. I’m glad you’re here, not there. I haven’t seen any looting or riots here.”

  “True.” Mary nibbled at a cold can of raviolis, one of the few Christine had left. “You must make a lot more than me to afford your place.”

  Christine grinned. “Not as much more as you’d think. I just pay way more of my paycheck to live in this neighborhood, so the kids can go to a nice school. I couldn’t bear to think of one of them getting hurt just because I saved a few hundred bucks on rent living somewhere else.”

  Mary finished chewing a ravioli and swallowed, then washed it down with water. It was all they had to drink, now. “Oh, I talked to some of the neighbors, today, like you asked.”

  “And?”

  “And, they don’t know what’s going on, either. No one seems to know what to do. A few people left, but most are staying put.”

  Christine flatlined her lips. Her earlier decision to leave had become less certain since that morning. Maybe Mary would have a different perspective. “So, what do you think of relocating? My mom has a farm, and it’s outside of Denver, away from the looting. Plus, she has too much food, on her farm. We could eat salad again.”

  Mary froze with her loaded fork inches from her mouth. She put it back in the can and left her fork inside. “Are you serious? You heard the news. Everyone should just stay put until help comes.”

  “What if it never comes?” Christine didn’t think that was likely, but she had to plan for the worst and hope for the best. “Things would get pretty bad in the city, right? I think it would have to.”

  Mary shook her head. “No way. Pretty soon, FEMA will start air-dropping food, or they’ll figure out how to reorganize older semi-trucks and start shipping socks from China again. It’ll get back to normal in a few days.”

  “How can you be sure?” Christine certainly wasn’t.

  Mary smiled wanly. “How can you be sure it won’t? Look, if we leave, we know you’ll be putting your family in some danger. If we stay, it’s a ‘might,’ and that’s better than ‘for sure.’”

  Christine wrung her hands under the table. Maybe her friend was right. Was it wise to certainly risk her family on a maybe? Then again, if the national transportation network didn’t get worked out soon, what would happen to the cities?

  But this was America. It was hard to believe anyone would starve—not here. They’d figure out how to get food into the cities, how to turn the satellites back on… The city was working on getting supplies to everyone in the meantime…

  Everything would be fine, soon. Yeah, she’d ride it out at home. Plus, it would be safer for her kids to stay put. All the radio stations were saying so; even the mayor said so.

  “Okay.” Christine forced her hands to relax, wiping them on her jeans. “We’ll stay and see how it goes. We can always get out later, if things take a turn for the worse.”

  Mary grinned, and again picked up her can of raviolis. “Bravo. Best news I’ve heard all day,” she said while nodding her head at the radio. “What time is it?”

  Christine glanced at her watch. “Oh, damn. Almost eleven. We have to get up early to make it to our distribution point for tomorrow’s allotment at nine, tomorrow morning.”

  On that note, she stood, gave Mary a hug, and said goodnight, then trudged up the stairs to bed. In her room, she glanced at the closet with her loaded backpack. Should she unload it? No, she’d keep it ready—just in case. “Plan for the worst, hope for the best,” she repeated to herself.

  But, as tired as she was, her troubled mind made it difficult to fall asleep. The last time she glanced at her watch before darkness overtook her, it was after 1:00 a.m. before she fell into a fitful sleep.

  10

  Monday, June 1st

  Christine dreamed of a riot outside that caused her house to shake hard enough to knock over the refrigerator, which landed on Hunter—the teen was always foraging for food, it seemed—hard enough to injure him severely. He called out to her, terrified, but could only whisper. She urgently needed to hear what he was trying to say, but the shaking kept her from getting to him. His mouth moved again…

  “Mom.”

  The view of her kitchen became her bedroom, lit by a small nightlight in the corner. Her son wasn’t under the fridge, but kneeling beside her bed, shaking her and whispering her name.

  “Wha.. What?”

  “Mom, wake up. Someone’s downstairs, and your friend is still in the guest room. I’m scared; you have to get up.”

  Adrenaline surged, competing with sleep-fog. She stopped herself from leaping out of bed, though, freezing to listen to the silence as her body awoke, and the fog continued to flee.

  For long seconds, she heard nothing. Then, the tink of glass-on-glass, and a thump. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

  Darcy was asleep beside her, as she’d been more frightened than she liked to admit and had asked if she could sleep in her mom’s room “to keep her company.” But at the bang below, she stirred and sat up.

  Christine reached for her hand and whispered, “Stay quiet, and don’t argue.”

  Hunter glared at his sister and shook his head, though Christine had no idea what irritated him this time.

  Finally feeling awake enough to move without being clumsy, she slid her feet off the bed and sat up. “You two stay here. If you hear me yell, lock the damn door and climb ou
t the window. I’m going to take a peek—”

  “Mom, that makes no sense,” Darcy hissed, though her words were a bit sleep-slurred. “They’ll hear you.”

  “I’ll be quiet, I promise. But I don’t want to sit here until they come up. They’re in the kitchen, and I have to check on Mary.”

  She ignored their whispered pleas and walked with deliberate, careful steps to the door. She always left it ajar at night. Though she had made sure all the hinges in the house were well-oiled, she was thankful she didn’t have to try to use the doorknob. Oiled or not, those always made some noise.

  Once outside the room, in the hallway upstairs, she was also glad Bryson had insisted on tongue-in-groove flooring, rather than the hardwood floor she’d wanted. It didn’t creak like oak planks could have, except for one spot in the hallway’s center.

  She took three deep breaths at the edge of the stairwell, with its open view to the living room below, and then held it so she could listen better. Scuffing sounds came from the kitchen, but the living room seemed silent.

  A soft voice came, definitely from the kitchen. “Man, I’m telling you, there’s still people in here.”

  A second man, with a deeper voice, replied, “No car in the driveway. We’re cool. Relax, dude.”

  “You relax. Let’s just get what we came for and leave.”

  “Or, here’s another idea. How about we search the house? If people are here, they gotta have their good stuff with them, right? We’ll take it from them.”