With each turn of his wheel, James remained vigilant of any people in his way. The last thing he wanted to do was to hit anyone. But he also had to be prepared for anything. If a mob formed and tried to block his way, there would be little time to react, and he was determined to get through.
He moved through the narrow space between a bus and a movers’ truck and saw that the driver’s side door to the truck was left open and in the way. “No…” he said, worried. He tapped on his horn and then pressed it harder as he neared the open door, but no one responded. He honked his horn again when a man stuck his head outside the window and looked out, astonished to see a Pontiac driving between lanes and headed toward him.
The driver swung back inside and closed the door mere seconds before James would have had to hit the brakes. Instead he pushed through, increasing his speed past them and reaching a momentarily clear patch of road before the inevitable gridlock ahead. The downtown exit was in a few miles away and the stopped traffic was getting even worse.
There were lanes and lanes of cars, nothing moving, and people everywhere. James didn’t know how much farther he was going to be able to get. And strangest of all, he noticed an encompassing cloud of black smoke rising from the city. Something had happened. A fire? One thing was clear. Amassed foot travelers were no longer headed toward the city. Many had turned around, and they were all moving away from it.
5
Haystack
His blaring horn seemed to cause most people to instinctively move out of the way. There were others, however, who weren’t so easily persuaded. James felt that the longer the search, the less likely the chance of finding Marla. The bronze Pontiac coasted just under twenty miles per hour as James repeatedly tapped his horn to clear the road. No one had been so bold as to directly block him yet, but James wouldn’t put it past anyone to try.
He gripped the wheel with unflinching determination, prepared for any sudden obstacles getting in his way. A crowd ahead thinned as he drove between and around the gaps. Once clear, he accelerated down the road with the buildings of downtown in view. He was close. The thick smoke rising into the air seemed to be coming from central west, the heart of downtown. From afar, it looked bad, and he could only imagine what it was like up close. He slowed and maneuvered around vehicles blocking the road.
The exit to Delingpole Central was close, but he couldn’t go as fast as he wanted; not without hitting something or someone. Swaths of people walked along the side of the road. He’d never seen anything like it. And there were still plenty who remained with their vehicles. The absence of police and emergency vehicles was stunning too. He figured that it’d only be a matter of time, or at least he hoped so. He had passed countless people stranded and several accidents already. How much worse were things going to get?
He veered into the left exit lane, closing in toward downtown. Passing a line of cars, he stopped at an intersection with vehicles on all sides and no working traffic lights. Worst yet, the smoke he had seen from miles away had drifted closer. He could smell it through his air vents. He moved around the three lanes of traffic the best way he could, bouncing against a median. Once clear, he drove cautiously across the intersection, mindful of all the cars around him, most but not all vacant.
City hall was only a few blocks away, though James wasn’t sure how close he could get. The road ahead was becoming more blocked and difficult to maneuver. He’d have to find a safe place to park and go on foot. It seemed to be the only plan that made sense. The smoke was getting thicker as he encountered more people fleeing the area, rushing past his car, many without taking notice. There was real fear on their faces, men and women alike. James drove around three lanes of full gridlocked traffic and barely enough room to maneuver through. On the right of his passenger side was a narrow alley between two buildings: the perfect place to park.
A group of people rushed past him with terrified expressions. Something bad had happened or was happening up ahead, and no one was sticking around too long. All the vehicles in his path had been abandoned. Of course, Marla could have long fled as well, but he had to make sure. Without giving it a second thought, James exited the clogged highway ramp and turned down the alleyway, the rumble of his Pontiac echoing between the building walls.
He parked in the middle next to a stack of crates. Ahead was a direct path to Main Street, which would offer little in the way of passage. It had to be 9 or 10 a.m. in downtown St. Louis. He let up on the gas, looking around to make sure nobody was watching him or the car.
He parked halfway on the sidewalk to avoid completely blocking the alley. He then sat at the wheel for a moment with the engine idling. To turn it off brought fears that it wouldn’t start again. The first time might have been a fluke. Without the Firebird, they’d be on foot like everyone else, walking endless hours to get home.
Seeing no other options, he turned it off. The engine ceased, and there was no going back. He opened the door and heard a stampede of footsteps rush by at the other end of the alley. He had begun to draw his own conclusions. Either it was a natural disaster or a terrorist attack. There weren’t too many other answers left.
James locked and closed the door as ash began falling from above like snowflakes. The two buildings he stood between had back entrances, both closed and bolted shut. No one had come outside yet or seemed to notice him. For a moment, he felt safe, fortunate even to have found a spot to leave his car.
He slipped on his jacket and moved quickly out of the alley. He stopped short of the sidewalk, where a steady stream of people hurried past him. He heard several faint sirens and though, Finally. There were working vehicles after all. He could also hear the distant whooping whir of an overhead helicopter, though it was nowhere to be seen.
James turned down the sidewalk, approximately three blocks from city hall, and walked against traffic of people leaving the area. Off to the sides were one-way streets filled with empty vehicles. The noxious fumes grew stronger amid the thickening smoke drifting over the city.
A group of businesswomen moved past him with their fists to their mouths, coughing with their heels and sandals clicking across the pavement. James glanced into the windows of buildings as he passed them. Everything was dark inside. The same went for a particularly frenzied hotel lobby where a line extended from the front desk to the nearby bar.
He just had a few more blocks to go. The smoke was getting so thick, however, that it was harder to see. James reached the end of the street, holding a sleeve to his mouth, and looking in hopes to find the source. Far ahead, he saw the pluming clouds of black flowing from Third Avenue near the Hudson Building. He saw the glimmer of flames, buried underneath thick smoke. Ash continued to rain down from above. James squeezed his way through a crowd and darted across the road.
He continued past an enormous church and deeper into downtown. The entire journey felt surreal. People passed him by with frightened, serious faces, engaging in little conversation and only moving forward. Survival instincts were on display everywhere. Different scenarios passed through James’s head. Was it a bomb? Arson? A missile? James hadn’t a clue, and that scared him.
His pace increased as he moved through another crosswalk, wiping his face of ashes. The dome-like structure of city hall came into view. For the first time since his Pontiac miraculously started, James felt real hope. Marla had to be there. Maybe she knew what was going on. The answers plagued James. He stopped upon reaching the sidewalk and gripped the vertical iron bars of a nearby park fence, staring up into the sky. There were two helicopters now.
His eyes followed them as they hovered past, unloading hundreds of gallons of water onto the Hudson building. Several other people stopped their quickened pursuit out of the city to stand and watch, eyes transfixed on the unusual sight. James had seen aerial water drops during forest fires but never in a highly-populated metropolis. After dropping the water, they flew into the distance, fading from view.
The smoke was only getting stronger and worse, but
James trudged on, hurrying toward the front of city hall with its grand bohemian architecture and cypress trees on both ends. From what he could see, it looked as though the building was being evacuated.
James’s pace increased as he circled the front, trying to distinguish the many faces rushing past him. He began to call out for Marla with his hands cupped at his mouth. He spun around, looking in all directions where tall buildings, people, and vehicles merged together in one giant blur.
He walked back, scanning the area more closely. There were cars parked all along the spaces in front. He looked across South Tucker Street with its six lanes of stationary traffic. The clerk court building across the street didn’t appear to have any power, nor did the justice center across from it.
The police station was only a few blocks away. If their offices weren’t being flooded with desperate citizens right now, James didn’t know of another more likely time. Perhaps Marla and her team had gone there. He sat against a cement pillar and coughed from the increasing smoke in the air. He had to get his mind straight. The city was under attack. That much was clear. And he was probably putting himself in more danger just by being there.
“Excuse me, sir!” James said to a suited man hurrying by.
The man stopped for a moment and looked at him.
“What happened here?”
“Not sure,” the man said, shaking his head. “Power went out and then an explosion went off in the Hudson building.”
“A bomb?” James asked.
The man began walking away as a female associate caught up and took his arm. “Your guess is as good as mine, pal,” he said, hurrying away.
James thanked him and watched as they walked on. The building across the street was emptying out as well. A steady line of employees still poured out from both exits, fanning out in the street. They squinted into the daylight, staring at all the abandoned cars in the road. They moved quickly from the building, herded by others who seemed to grasp what was going on.
James continued to observe them when he suddenly caught sight of a news van from Marla’s station parked on the end of the sidewalk in front of him. He jumped up and rushed over, full of hope. “Marla!” he called out again and again as he steadily advanced. The van’s back doors were open, and he saw some of the crew, standing there huddled together. Their attention was inside the van, and no one took notice as he ran up, calling again for Marla.
He pulled the door open the rest of the way in a near frantic heave, startling them all. “Marla!” he shouted again. Like some distant dream, he saw her sitting inside the van near a series of blank monitors, fiddling with the knobs. She turned to him in disbelief as the two men outside stepped back.
“James?” she said. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I came to get you!” he said, between exasperated breaths.
She moved toward him, crouched down and trying to process his sudden presence. “But I thought you were at the retreat.”
James glanced at the two men outside the van. He recognized the clean-cut chubby man with the black puff vest as Dean Warren, Marla’s cameraman. Next to him, with his slicked black hair and light beard, was Raul Ortiz, the driver.
“James?” Dean said, as surprised as Marla was. “How are you?”
“Hey, Dean,” James said with a pat to the shoulder. “Raul,” he then said with a nod.
“You drove?” Marla said, stepping outside as ash continued to fall around them.
He pulled her in close and squeezed her. “It wasn’t easy, but I’m so glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too.”
James stepped back and spoke in a direct, emphatic say. “I came to get you out of here.”
“The van won’t start,” she said, not seeming to grasp the urgency.
Raul stepped forward, cutting in. “I’ve tried everything. Thought it was a bad battery, but we’re not the only ones.” He waved toward the line of vehicles beside them.
“A bomb went off?” James asked. He could see that they were all still shaken and on edge. Raul had oil marks on his face and stains on his hands. Dean had a bruise on his cheek and was leaning against the van for support. Marla wore a light jacket, zipped up to protect her from the increasing ash in the air. James saw the anxiety and trauma on her face as she tried to recollect everything.
“We had just finished our interview with the deputy county commissioner outside the information center over there,” she began. “We were all wrapped and ready to go. Then an explosion happened a few blocks over, and we… we just. I don’t know. I told Dean to follow me, and then things just seemed to go haywire from there.”
“My camera stopped working,” Dean said, pulling a shoulder camera from the van to show James. Its lens was cracked. “I dropped it too, but I’m not paying for it!”
“That’s the least of your concerns,” Raul snapped. “Wasn’t your fault. You were pushed over.”
“Pushed over?” asked James.
Dean sighed and looked away, ashamed as Marla elaborated. “I shouldn’t have asked you to get a closer shot. We were almost stampeded.”
“It was no one’s fault,” Raul said with finality.
“You saw an explosion,” James continued. “Did you see any bright lights in the sky? Anything?”
“Bright lights?” Raul asked, skeptical.
“No, this was a ground explosion,” Marla said.
“And we don’t even know if it was a bomb,” Dean added. “Could have been anything.”
But James knew better. This was no coincidence. It seemed well-planned and executed. St. Louis was in a panic, and for the first time, he began to realize the scope of the attack.
“Listen, Marla,” James said, taking her arm. He then looked to her crew. “This could get worse. Let’s go home.”
“Wait, you drove here?” Raul asked.
James stared past him, hesitant to respond. “I was pumping gas and then one big flash later, I’m on the ground and the power’s out.”
“Wait? By our house?” Marla asked with deepening concern.
“I’ll keep it simple,” James continued, addressing the whole group. “You’ve all heard of an electromagnetic pulse, right? They’re trying to take out our power grid.”
“Who?” Dean asked outright.
James turned to him, fit to be tied. “You tell me. You’re the news crew.” He took a deep breath, calming himself, and apologized. “I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve read about this. I’m sure you all have.”
“Yeah, but an EMP?” Dean said.
Raul turned to him. “You got a better idea, genius?”
“Solar storm,” he answered. “It’s every bit as likely.”
James took a step back with Marla’s hand in his. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
“Wait,” Marla said, pulling her hand away. She turned to her crew, worried. “I’m not just leaving them behind.” She paused, observing the growing chaos around them. “This is why we’re here. This is news.”
“It doesn’t matter,” James said, again taking her arm. “I’ve got a car, now let’s get out of here.”
“Your Jeep?” she said, turning toward him.
“No, the Firebird.”
Marla covered her mouth and laughed in disbelief. “You actually drove it out here.”
“Yes,” he said, growing impatient. “Now, please…”
Marla looked at Dean and Raul, hesitant, and then back to James. “Can we at least take them back to the station?”
James cringed at the thought. There would be no more rides for friends, strangers, or co-workers. He and Marla had to get home. He didn’t know exactly why, but he just knew it. He had to trust his instincts.
More and more people were outside of the buildings, along the street and leaving downtown in droves. James heard the distant aerial rumbling of more helicopters. The few signs of remaining technology were encouraging, but there was no denying that the city was in a disarray.
“I
f we do get out of here, and that’s a big if, we’ll try for the station,” James began. “We have fifteen miles of dangerous road to travel back home.” He pointed to the lanes of still traffic before them, vehicles frozen in time. “You think this is something. You should see the highway.”
Marla took his arm in both hands, pulling him close. “Okay. We’ll all leave together.”
Raul quickly shrugged her off. “I’m fine here.”
“No, Raul, please,” Marla began.
“I’m staying with the van, and that’s final. I’ll get her started soon enough.”
James shook his head and tried to reason with Raul, having changed his mind and wanting to help. “The circuits are fried,” he said. “You can check for yourself.”
“Well, I’m not leaving either,” Dean pronounced. “We’re liable for this equipment.”
“Forget the equipment,” James said. But he was about done with arguing about it.
“Go on,” Raul said, waving him off. “Get out while you can.”
“Come on, guys,” Marla said. “James is right. This is serious.”
During their back and forth, James stepped away and scanned the area around them. He heard something faint but noticeable. The absence of engines, motors, construction, and sirens made it possible. Through the distant conversations of people leaving all around them, a rumble echoed through the air, followed by a tremor in the road.
“Look!” James said, pointing ahead. Several blocks ahead, they could see fire bursting from another building. Marla and her team turned around, unable at first to see it. Then the flames leaped higher and brighter, and it was impossible to ignore. “Another explosion,” James continued. “Convinced yet?”
Marla leaned close to Raul, speaking with authority. “Let’s go.”
This time, he nodded in agreement without a hint of resistance. James could see the acknowledgment of danger in his eyes. Dean shut the back doors as Raul pressed the automatic lock on his key chain. Out of habit, he pressed the button repeatedly, but to no avail. Marla took her purse and linked arms with James as they left the van and walked quickly past city hall. Raul and Dean soon caught up. They continued to stare down at their phones, trying to get them to turn on.
Hideaway (Book 0): An EMP Thriller Page 5
