by N. C. Reed
“Next is Nathaniel Caudell. Nate, say a few words for the crowd,” Clay urged.
“A few words,” Caudell said flatly and everyone broke into laughter. Except Clay, who nodded ruefully.
“Just call me Nate,” Caudell said then. “This is my wife Christina,” he introduced the young and very pregnant brunette next to him.
“Hello,” she said politely with a bow, almost a curtsy. “It's a pleasure to meet all of you,” she said as she cradled her belly with her hands.
“How far along are you?” Patricia smiled in spite of herself.
“Twenty-eight weeks, give or take,” the blonde beside the girl waggled her hand in an 'iffy' motion.
“Good for you,” Patricia nodded and even Alicia seemed to be pleased to see the young expectant mother.
“My sister Kaitlin,” Nate indicated the woman who had spoken, “and her son Nathan who is sixteen. She's an RN,” he added to Patricia, explaining why it had been Kaitlin who had commented.
“Wonderful!” Patricia clapped her hands. “A medic and a nurse!” she smiled. “Best news I've had today,” she promised.
“Pleased to meet you,” Kaitlin smiled. She was older than her brother it appeared, perhaps mid to late thirties, with dishwater blonde hair and a tanned face full of freckles.
“Hi,” Nathan nodded. “I would say call me Nate, but that's taken,” he grinned and everyone laughed.
“Could call him deuce I guess,” Nate said.
“That's taken!” Leon the Deuce said at once and the Sanders all laughed.
“It's nice to be here,” Nathan grinned. “I've never seen a place like this except on television,” he admitted.
“You ain't seen nothing yet!” Deuce told him. “Soon as we can, we 'll take you to see the whole place!”
“Hey, can I get in on that?” Jonathon asked, overcoming his shyness for a second.
“Sure!” Leanne replied this time. “More the merrier!”
“Hey, don't forget me!” Janice said.
“We won't,” the twins replied in unison, bringing another laugh from the whole crowd.
“And finally, Jody Thompson,” Clay finished as the exchange between the kids finished. Jody nodded silently.
“Jody is pretty much the strong, silent type,” Barnes offered when the other man didn't speak. “Occupational hazard, I guess,” he added, earning a glare from the quiet man. Thompson then turned back to the family.
“I am glad to meet you,” he said quietly, his voice deep and almost melodic. It was clear that was all he had to say at the moment.
“And with that, what time is it kids?” Clay asked. Leanne held up the older tablet they had decided to sacrifice to the storm's effects in order to have at least some way of watching. There was an old wireless router hooked up inside that would almost certainly fry, but both it and the tablet were purchased second hand just for this.
“We've got just over an hour, give or take,” Leanne reported. “Our notifications aren't working very well at this point due to massive interference, but the storm hasn't showed any signs of slowing.”
“Well, I suggest we spend that time talking and visiting and eating and what have you,” Clay clapped his hands together. “I think we've got marsh mellows and the makings for S'mores if I'm not mistaken. So everyone gather around the fire, which may soon be our only source of light other than the light show mother nature is giving us.”
-
“Sir, we need to make a statement while we still can,” the Secretary of Defense said quietly. Several generals and two admirals were behind him with angry faces and sullen attitudes. They had not been fully briefed on the pending disaster until an hour earlier, not being in the loop with NASA. The first they had heard of it was the statement from the press after the news went public. To say they were pissed would be a severe understatement.
“And say what?” the President snorted, still in complete denial. “That the sky is falling?”
“Sir, we are on the edge of a major disaster here,” the Secretary told him. “There are things we have to get done while we can. FEMA has only just been alerted and it is far too late for them to preposition anything to help those affected by this. Assuming this is as bad as is predicted, we will be fortunate not to lose millions over the next two to three months.”
“Have the military pass out the food,” the President waved a hand.
“We don't have the manpower to do that, Mister President,” one of the generals said flatly. “A majority of our people are trapped overseas or at sea. Less than fifty percent of our available manpower is on the continent.”
“Then use the National Guard!” he thundered.
“Their equipment for the most part is not hardened against EMP,” the same general replied. “Most of the gear they keep on hand is for training purposes. The gear they do have that's hardened is kept at storage areas near seaports, in most cases too far to reach them before the whole country goes tits up.”
“Stop telling me what can't be done and tell me what can!”
“You can try to calm the populace,” the Secretary told him. “Prevent as much panic as possible and put off violence until the last possible second.”
“Why can't we stop the violence from happening in the first place?”
“Because we don't have the manpower or equipment to try and contain two hundred and eighty million people,” the Secretary said simply. “That's the estimate of how many Americans will be hungry in the next week to two weeks. Stores are emptying now and in some cases are already stripped bare. Deliveries that can make it in the next hour may make it, but several trucks have gone missing since this hit the news. Stolen or hijacked, we don't know. Where gas is still available it's selling for one hundred dollars a gallon. Why I don't know, since our money will be worthless without a FED to back it up.”
“We're facing a disaster the likes of which has never been seen before, sir,” he concluded. “A calm statement will help postpone it, but won't stop it.”
“Then why bother?” he asked glumly. “I may as well not do it.”
“Fuck this,” the general growled. “I'm going to do what I can while I can. You can stay here or come help me,” he told the others. Three remained resolutely in place. The others broke ranks and followed their comrade out the door.
“Get back here!” the President called. “Get them back,” he ordered the Secretary.
“How would you suggest I do that, sir?” the man sighed. “If you aren't going to act then there's no reason for us to continue this conversation. Good luck, sir,” he added as he followed his subordinates.
“This can't be that bad,” the President said yet again. “Right?” he asked the three remaining military commanders.
“It looks pretty bad, sir,” the remaining Admiral nodded. “It's hard science and pretty well established. We expect to lose most of our naval forces. The submarine force should be all right, but we won't be able to contact them with new orders. Most have been ordered to lend assistance to surface vessels when and where possible. Our surface fleet that is at sea will be effectively wiped out. Sitting ducks for anyone in a submarine to sink at will. We will essentially no longer have a naval force worthy of the name.”
“The bulk of our combat equipment is overseas,” an Army general took over. “What is left here is equipment that was home for rebuild or even for surplus. There's very little new equipment on hand at the moment. We won't be able to field much of an army until we can retool our equipment. Basically back to foot soldiers with man portable weapons and hopefully some artillery, though their effectiveness will be dampened by lack of GPS and computer guidance. Can't have one without the other,” he shrugged.
“It will make defending against any attack difficult at best,” the second general agreed. “It might be weeks before we know of an attack, and then take weeks to muster a force to deal with it. Our ability to respond quickly will be gone.”
“What about the Middle East?” the President a
sked.
“I assume that Israel is in the process of launching their air force on a mission to nuke Iran about now, if it's not already on the way,” the admiral admitted. “It's what I would do in their place. They are also likely to do the same thing to Syria and Egypt, though perhaps not. I don't think they'll attack Saudi, but I would imagine that Saudi has given them overflight permission in exchange for not being attacked. Again I have no direct knowledge of that but it's what I would do.”
“We can't let that happen,” the President was shaking his head. “That would incite even more violence. Stop them.”
“We can't, Mister President,” was the simple reply.
“What do you mean, 'we can't'?”
“Which word gave you the most trouble, sir?” the man was clearly regretting not leaving with his comrades. “We can start there. We have no way of preventing such an attack, if it is in fact occurring. Simple as that. Our radar and satellite tracking systems are not working correctly, limiting our ability to locate said strike, if it is happening. Our planes that are in the air when the wave hits will be lost, along with their crews. We aren't going to find anyone willing to be up in flight when that happens.”
“But the Jews can?” the President snorted.
“The Israelis have a history of having pilots and soldiers willing to do the impossible, sir,” was the reply. “Including go on suicide runs into enemy held territory. So yes, they do.”
“So what can you do, then?” The question rang with contempt.
“We can leave and stop putting up with this bullshit,” one of the Army generals had heard enough. “Shouldn't have stayed this long. I'd wish you luck, but it would be a lie.” The other two hesitated a few seconds but then followed him out without further comment.
The President picked up his phone and dialed a number.
“I need air time,” he told his Press Secretary. “All major networks. Half an hour from now. Make it Order of the President. Use the FCC if you have to. I'll be there before you're finished telling them that I'm going to address the false report of impending disaster by enemies of the United States in an effort to undermine our democracy.” He hung up before the Press Secretary could say anything and started writing a note of what he was going to say.
“Sky is falling,” he snorted to himself. “How did I surround myself with so many incompetent people?”
-
“It's almost show time,” Leanne said softly from where she and Leon the Deuce were talking to Nathan and Johnathon. Janice was sort of sitting with them but also trying to listen to the adults, and be where she could watch Gordy. Abigail was fighting to keep a grin off her face at the girl's obvious crush on her brother, which he was intent on ignoring or perhaps hadn't noticed yet. Either way the puppy dog look was amusing to her.
“How long?” Clay asked.
“No more than fifteen minutes probably,” she estimated, then looked at her brother.
“Sounds about right,” he nodded, glancing at the tablet. “We should know for sure if the tablet stops working.”
“What do you mean 'if'?” Alicia demanded. “We did all this because you said it would kill everything electronic!”
“Something as small as the tablet might make it,” her son shrugged. “Nothing connected to the grid or large enough to catch a full dose of the storm will survive. It's just that simple.”
“This better not have been for nothing,” Alicia grumped, arms crossing as she sat with an angry look on her face.
“Alicia, do you even realize you just hoped the world suffers a disaster so that you won't have been inconvenienced for no reason?” Angela asked her, voice acidic. “I really did go wrong with your raising, somewhere,” she continued before turning her back on her daughter.
“Man, I get it,” Barnes said softly to Clay. “Don't want to meet her indeed.”
“Told you man,” Clay shrugged as Lainie joined him, her arm going around his waist.
Talking fell away as the countdown kept ticking it's way toward disaster.
-
“. . .dent of the United States,” the announcer finished as the President walked into a Press Room that was far less crowded than it should have been. He saw cameras from only three networks.
“Did you make this Order of the President?” he asked his Press Secretary.
“I did,” the man nodded. “This is all that's left in town apparently. The rest had decided you weren't going to say anything.”
“Humph.” The President ascended the podium.
“My fellow Americans,” he began. “I know there has been a great deal of panic in the last few hours. An unscrupulous employee, no doubt left over from my predecessor's administration, has chosen for reasons that remain known only to her to foment this falsehood, perhaps in the hopes of making a quick dollar on the suffering of others. By creating that suffering herself, in fact.”
“I know the reports that have been circulating sound terrible, but the truth is that things are and will remain just fine. Yes, we may experience some temporary communications disruptions but that is normal with any solar flare and nothing to be alarmed about. Angry perhaps,” he smiled, “but not alarmed. We 'll just have to catch those shows on a rerun,” he tried to make a joke. No one laughed.
“I want to reassure you that I will be bringing the full might of the Justice Department against this woman for creating this unparalleled situation of panic and false crisis. I will not rest until the perpetrator of these lies is in prison for causing this disruption, and she will be held accountable for every loss of life this panic creates.”
“Let me be clear; there is no impending doom approaching our planet. Reports to the contrary are simply a fabrication of a sick mind. You can see for yourself that we still have power, our televisions and computers still work, cars still-”
The lights went out, leaving the room in momentary darkness until the battery powered lights flickered once, then again, and then themselves went out. The was a moment of complete stillness before people began to panic in the darkness. Just long enough for one reporter to ask;
“You were saying, sir?”
-
The storm hit the atmosphere with all the force of a battering ram against a cardboard door. Had it been the result of a weapon, it would have been massive overkill.
Every satellite that was still functioning, hardened government satellites intended to withstand the effects of occasional solar flare ups, practically melted in the ensuing storm. Solar panels that provided electricity for the satellites overloaded, sending surges of power through the entire system before the panels themselves died completely. Wires in some cases fusing together while delicate circuitry that could have withstood most anything else simply shut down, fried beyond repair.
The wave hit the atmosphere and spread across it. In most such cases the radiation from the particles would be reflected back into space. Not this time.
The waves of energy came through the atmosphere as if it wasn't there, bombarding the planet with radiation and electrical energy the likes of which had not been seen by anyone living. The lights against the sky were quite beautiful, and would have been enjoyable had those that knew what they meant not been sick with worry. No one had ever seen such a brilliant display of aurora against the sky. They would continue to see it for days to come as the effect eventually died completely.
The second wave hit two minutes and fifty-nine seconds after the first, completing the destruction of every major power grid, every internet system, every phone system, every system of any kind, any where that depended on electrical circuitry. Modern technology in ninety-nine percent of the world ceased to exist only a few seconds afterward.
Planes still in the air lost power and crashed to the ground, adding to the chaos that was already present even before the lights went out. Many of them were planes caught over the ocean when the news broke, with no way to get anywhere they could land in the time they had available. No one would ever know their
fate in all but a few cases, such as one lucky plane whose pilot had the sense to fly toward the island of Bermuda and carefully ditch his plane just as the power went out throughout the ship, enabling most of the passengers and crew to get out before the giant jet sank beneath the wave.
The pilot was not one of the lucky ones.
A few scientists in places where research could still be carried out would one day determine that this storm would measure two-and-a-half times the force of the Carrington Event's estimated strength, making it the most destructive single event source in all of recorded human history with the exception of the Great Flood.
And that would be before death tallies began to be made.
For all intents and purposes, the world had stopped at sixteen minutes after seven, Sanders local time, on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday evening in early November.
It would not be restarting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
-
“Tablet's fried,” Leanne sighed, tossing the appliance on the ground. “Happy mom?” she asked tartly. “It wasn't for nothing.”
“Don't you sass me, young la-”
“If you open your mouth again tonight I may slap it closed,” Angela Sanders turned on her daughter in a fury that shocked everyone, though no one more than Alicia herself. “These kids worked their ass off to make sure we could save something when this happened and have at least basic things we'd otherwise have lost. You have done nothing but bitch and whine and moan and complain through the entire thing, up to and including this minute! If you think I'm joking, try me,” she warned when Alicia seemed about to respond. “I will knock you square into the middle of next week,” she promised darkly.
No one spoke for a few seconds, so shocked they had been at the normally sedate Angela's explosion. Leon the Elder's cackling laughter broke the silence finally.
“Hot damn!” he slapped his leg. “This whole thing just may have been worth it just to see that!”
The rest of the family broke into laughter as a red-faced Alicia decided not to defy her mother. Instead she got to her feet.
