Rockfall

by William Allen

  “Stop for a minute?” I asked Mike, who gave an encouraging nod.

  “Sure,” he said. “Stores won’t be open yet anyway. And we need to make sure Wade understands what we might be facing. He needs to get his family ready.”

  “You think he’ll believe us?”

  “Gotta try,” Mike responded, then more confidently, he continued, “He’s a sharp guy. Don’t let his country boy act fool you.”

  “Ha!” I exclaimed with some force. “He’s just like some of those good old boys we went to school with, Mike. Keeps things close to his vest. I think he’s a closet prepper anyway. Or close enough,” I concluded. I saw when Wade recognized the truck and he gave a wave in our direction.

  Wade’s greeting included Mike. My brother spent a lot of his free time around here even after we finished the initial setup of the homestead, using his superior, at least to me, mechanical and technical skills to not only perform maintenance on the tractors but also helping troubleshoot some of the other stuff I’d picked up as well. For example, Mike was the one who’d figured out how to get my little water mini-turbine kit set up, and wired the array of batteries housed in the trailer and main house additions we’d built. Of course, he was also the one who gleefully informed me, after we’d finished nearly a month of work on the improved water wheel design turbine, that I would be lucky to get enough juice out of the system to run a string of Christmas lights. See, what a brother.

  Once we extricated ourselves from the truck, Mike and I stood there in the driveway and exchanged handshakes with Wade before turning to silently examine the wind damage done to Wade’s crops. Not as bad as I’d feared, but he was definitely going to lose at least a quarter of an acre, if not more. The two row picker I’d tracked down and restored, then readily agreed to allow Wade to borrow these last two years, did a nice job of harvesting the corn, but not even the best system worked when the stalks were already laying on the ground. If he wanted to recover any of that corn, he’d need to do it the old, old fashioned way, and harvest it by hand.

  Still, Wade proved to be thankful for my call, since it had allowed him over an hour to prepare.

  “Don’t worry about it, man,” I said reassuringly. “That’s what neighbors are for. Other than the corn, your place looks good.”

  “That’s right, and my windmills didn’t blow away, thanks to your warning,” Wade enthused, clearly happy to have gotten off relatively lightly. Farmers learned to never underestimate Mother Nature. “How did you know that was coming, anyway? I mean, I know you got word this was coming, but not even the Weather Channel had anything about this until after the fact.”

  “As for the who,” I said, pointing to Mike. “I got word from my brother there. As for the what, well, we need to talk about that a little bit. I’d call it atmospheric overpressure, and I’ll admit I think I just made up that phrase.”

  “But what caused it? Was it something from those earthquakes?” Wade inquired, and I could read the concern in his tanned features. Successful farmers, as a breed, worked under the constant threat of the environment around them. Droughts, floods, and tornadoes all played a part in the cycle of boom and bust. For example, the recent drought running from Central Texas all the way across a large portion of the Western United States forced a lot of ranchers to cut back or completely get out of the cattle business. This created a temporary glut in the beef market, driving down prices that ended up rebounding to higher than ever prices after a few years.

  With Wade’s question, I looked to Mike to decide how much to say.

  “Wade,” Mike said slowly, drawing out the tension. “I had an old friend give me a call late last night with some…troubling news. I can’t go into details, but he was in a position to let me know that a large meteorite was recorded entering the Earth’s atmosphere. It hit in the waters off the coast of China, and well, when it hit, that thing went off bigger than the biggest nuke in the world, maybe the biggest explosion mankind has ever seen.”

  “You mean that wind came all the way from China? That’s…well, that’s disturbing.” Wade seemed at a loss for words, gasping for a moment before a flood of additional questions poured out. “Was there fallout in the wind? Why didn’t they say something about it on TV? And what else can we expect?”

  “I don’t think it was radioactive like you might think,” Mike said, trying to give a more thorough explanation. “That meteorite, when it hit the ocean’s floor, I think it transferred an unimaginable amount of energy into the earth. Part of that explosion would have created huge pressure waves, both in the air and the water. What we saw here” Mike gestured at the rows of downed corn, “was only a taste of what others got, closer to the epicenter.”

  “And you think that’s what caused the earthquakes in China and in California?” Wade’s comment wasn’t really a question as he reasoned out the implications.

  “Wait. They finally announced the California earthquakes on the news?” Mike quickly asked.

  “Just heard it before I came out to start the cleanup. Most the rest of my family is inside, glued to the TV. I heard they had a big one in Los Angeles, and a smaller one up towards San Francisco. That was it, though,” Wade confirmed. “So what else can we expect?”

  As Wade asked his question, I began to run numbers in my head and felt my heart sink yet again. By my calculations, as many as a billion people were most likely already dead. Not just China, but visualizing the map in my head, I ticked off the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia to the south, the Korean Peninsula to the north, and Japan to the islands to the east. Maybe Vietnam and Thailand as well, though I hoped the curve of the Chinese mainland might spare them some of the ocean’s voracious appetite.

  Those thoughts brought me back to Wade’s question, but before I could speak, my brother cleared his throat.

  Mike looked at the ground for a second, not in embarrassment, but to buy time to formulate his answer. I’d seen him do that many times when we were kids, and I was familiar with the phenomenon.

  “Wade, this is going to cause all kinds of problems. That much energy, being released into the planet, well, I expect we’ll see more earthquakes, for starters. Add to that, I expect we will see much more of an impact on the weather. Look for hurricanes forming out of season, and gigantic ones. Also, this will have stirred up Lord knows how much extra particulates into the atmosphere.”

  “Okay, you lost me on that last part,” Wade admitted, giving Mike a headshake. Mike, instead of answering, gave me a look that said, ‘you can jump in any time’.

  “Uh, Wade, I think you can expect this winter to be a very hard one,” I finally said, rejoining the discussion. “It will probably hit earlier, too. Maybe a lot earlier.”

  “What makes you think that?” Wade asked, and I could tell he had an idea, but wanted to hear the words anyway.

  “All the dust and particulates getting blasted into the air. A lot of it will condense back down into water vapor, which will cause its own problems, including a likely increase in rainfall,” Mike explained. “But some will result in clouds of debris, like a volcanic eruption. A big volcanic eruption.”

  “Like that one in Iceland, or Mount St. Helens?” Wade’s question let us know he was on the right path, but he was missing the magnitude.

  “In 1815, there was a volcanic eruption in Indonesia,” I lectured, rejoining the conversation. Mike might know the science, but I knew the history. “Now, back then we were still stuck in the tail end of the Little Ice Age when Mount Tambora blew its stack. Global temperatures were already reduced, affecting agriculture, so this was another body blow to those farmers.”

  “So how bad was it? What are we looking at with the weather?”

  “I can’t give you anything precise, Wade. This may turn out like that windstorm. Just a bunch of wind, signifying nothing,” I hedged.

  My words weren’t very satisfying, but I didn’t want to start a panic if I was wrong. On the other hand, we needed Wade and his family if things went sidewa
ys as I feared. Call it enlightened self-interest.

  “That next year, well, historians labeled 1816 as the Year Without a Summer. The winter was bad, but like the name suggests, the weather didn’t warm up enough for the whole year. Frost was reported in July and August as far south as Virginia, and the problems just got worse the further north you went. Figures I saw showed the loss of two-thirds of the corn crop that year.”

  “Was it just some parts here in the U.S. or did it affect other countries?”

  “The entire Northern Hemisphere was affected,” I admitted, and Wade seemed to sag at the implications. My next comment, though, hit Wade like a punch to the gut.

  “Uh, yeah, and if you are relying on getting anything from California or some supplier on the West Coast, I’d start looking for alternatives.”

  “You think…”

  “We think something really catastrophic may have happened there,” Mike stepped up to bail me out. “They have earthquakes from time to time in that part of the country, so maybe this is just coincidence. But you may have noticed the Internet is down, and Bryan reminded me that a lot of the servers and key systems are located in that part of the country. He also pointed out it was weird that none of the networks were carrying footage from the West Coast.”

  Wade stood stunned by the deluge of speculation and prognostication, so I took that as our signal to hit the road.

  “Look, we’ve got to run into town,” I finally said, then spun out a little white lie. “I’m taking advantage of Mike being down this weekend to pick up a few things, but this evening, I’ll stop back by with Mr. Wizard here and we can strategize. Maybe by then, we’ll get more information from FEMA and have a better idea about what to expect. Whatever happens, I don’t think this is going to mean changes overnight. Seven p.m. okay?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be fine. As you can see, I already have some family over. You mind if they sit with us?”

  I shrugged. “Up to you, Wade. Your house, your rules.”

  Over the years, I’d met most of Wade’s immediate family, and after they got over their kneejerk negative reaction to lawyers, we’d got along fine.

  “You don’t think I need to go and pick up supplies too, do you?” Wade asked the question I was dreading. Yes, he did, but I was also afraid of setting off a panic if one wasn’t already brewing in New Albany.

  “Wade, I can’t answer that question,” I said honestly. “I don’t know how you’re set for food. I can tell you we aren’t going to even stop at the grocery store. I’m thinking it is going to look like a hurricane stock-up party in the parking lot. Just hitting the feed store and maybe Len’s Hardware. Like I said, we think this will have some impact on the weather, but just how much and for how long, I don’t have a clue.”

  With that admission, I gestured to Mike and we took our leave. When we drove away, I watched Wade in the rearview mirror until we reached the turn. He looked troubled, but I figured we would be seeing that expression more often than not this day.

  “Think I said too much?” I asked Mike.

  “No, not really,” he conceded. “We are going to need his help, if things go the way we suspect. Just the five of us, we can’t hold the farm. Not for long, and not against a determined invader.”

  “Does that mean you’re staying?”

  Mike gave me a look, one eyebrow raised in a question, and I wanted to punch him in the arm but instead I stayed focused on the road.

  “Your house, your rules,” Mike jabbed, giving me a snarky grin as spoke.

  Even as supposed grown-ups, my brother and I could still push each other’s buttons like a pair of four-year-olds.

  “Fuck you,” I muttered. “You know you guys have a place here. I just wondered about your job, and Marta’s, too.”

  Mike seemed to ponder the question, but I knew it had to be weighing on his mind. Coming here for the weekend was a no-brainer, since they had already planned the trip anyway. Finally, he gave a sigh.

  “Let’s say we’ll play it by ear. One more week and the kids are out for the summer anyway. I think we have some time before things really start to fall apart. My biggest fear is we get sucked into falling for the normalcy bias, and then wait too long to pull the ripcord.”

  What Mike said made sense. He had many years in with his school district, and simply leaving with less than a week left in the semester would screw up his chances of ever getting another job. This was familiar ground for us.

  Marta, as a registered nurse with her background and experience, could go to work at the main hospital in Jasper or the smaller clinic in New Albany without any trouble, but she would probably end up taking a cut in pay. Mike had already looked at getting on with either the junior high or high school systems in either town, but the loss in salary would have been even more pronounced.

  “We’ll see what happens, but if even half of what we suspect is true, this country has just taken a hell of a lick. I imagine that’s also part of the reason the government is sitting on the truth for as long as possible. Gives them time to get their ducks in a row.”

  “You mean get their bunkers stocked,” Mike pronounced sourly. Of the three Hardin kids, Mike was the most cynical, but Nikki and I attributed quite a bit of that to his time in the Army. Her husband Patrick had the same sort of experiences as Mike, in Afghanistan and Iraq both, and it showed in their mutual distrust in the Powers-That-Be.

  “Yes, something like that,” I agreed. “But enough chatter. Something else, too. You can say goodbye to cheap merchandise coming out of China, and I’m betting half the cargo ships in the world around now are sitting at the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Goodbye to WalMart, too,” Mike said solemnly. Neither of us actually liked the corporate giant. The company had driven hundreds of small town shops out of existence, as well as shuttering too many manufacturing plants in the country as the jobs went overseas, but both of us recognized this new loss. What they had on the shelves, and whatever stock remained in the various distribution centers, represented the sum total of the corporation’s assets for the moment, and all there would be for some time to come. Maybe forever.

  With that sobering thought, I reached for a switch on the dashboard.

  “Let’s see what the Department of Disinformation has in store for us.”

  We spent the rest of the ride into town listening to the radio, and that was when we heard the first real details reported of what the newspeople dubbed the California Quakes. What we heard made my stomach ache, and I knew there was worse likely yet to come.

  We were listening to an AM news station out of Beaumont, but I don’t think it mattered. With the Emergency Broadcast System in effect, the feds were now calling the shots directly, and the newsreaders were doing what they did best. They read from what sounded like a prepared script, broadcasting a FEMA statement discussing the earthquake evacuation efforts underway in California. No mention of Washington or Oregon, and not a word about a potential tsunami. Nothing about the downed roads and bridges, or impending high water.

  Had everybody just forgotten the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunamis? With a death toll estimated north of two hundred thousand, I was shocked not to hear even the briefest mention. Then I thought about the way the news was being managed and decided the administration was only doling out the horror a piece at a time. A cold-blooded analysis might have determined that keeping the shocks to a minimum by dribbling out the news over time might reduce the chance of civil unrest. Hell, they might even be right, but I hated the thought of this kind of Big Brother-style censorship.

  One thing I noted at the end of the looped broadcast was an announcement promising the president would be addressing the country at one pm Central Standard Time. I glanced away from the road and caught Mike’s eye.

  “What do you think he’s going to say?”

  Mike frowned, thinking.

  “Price freeze on all fuel and food for the duration, whatever that is, call up and federalize all National Guard units, and mobilize the m
ilitary reserves from all branches. Declare a state of National Emergency and then suspend Posse Comitatus for the same period. Finally, he’ll wrap it all up in patriotic rhetoric and end things by asking for God’s blessings on us in this, our time of need. Not sure of the order of everything else, but I’ll lay bank on that last bit coming with the opening bars of the Star-Spangled Banner playing in the background.”

  “No bid contracts?”

  “No bid contracts,” Mike agreed. “Guaranteed margins, performance bonuses, and whatever else they can come up with. Trying to mount a recovery might bankrupt the nation, but we know who’ll be receiving the lion’s share of the tax money until things unravel completely.”

  Like many who consider themselves preppers, I didn’t buy into most of the ‘tinfoil hat’ conspiracy theories. On the other hand, I didn’t have much faith in the inherent goodness of our government, either. Mike was even more skeptical than I was, but he had his reasons. In short, we didn’t think the government was going to stint on taking care of their own first, but we also didn’t think this was all a plot by the Illuminati to take over the world.

  We weren’t naïve, especially not Mike. The truth was, we just didn’t think the powers that really ran the country needed to be bothered with secret conspiracies, if they ever did. The big multinational corporations that bought and paid for our senators and congressmen made sure their retained help were kept in the lifestyles to which they’d become accustomed. As long as their surrogates got to slop at the trough, the big boys and girls continued to receive their preferential treatment.

  The big corporations, the multinationals as many liked to call them, worked hard to keep DC packed with their people, both elected and even more importantly from their perspective, the appointees. It was a revolving, or as Mike liked to say, ‘revolting’ door between corporate boardrooms and outfits like the FDA, EPA, and the other various departments originally designed for the betterment of the nation as a whole. Now, they were the puppets of their masters.