The Storm Rises (The Solar Storms Saga Book 0)

by Kyle Pratt

  “Major Franklin left here with General Gordon to defend the Salem Armory,” Colonel Thompson said as he sat. “Please continue from that point.”

  For the next few minutes, Franklin outlined the events of the last few days, focusing on the battles with the Sovereign Militia and his theory of another group in the Lebanon area.

  The mayor leaned forward. “So, the Sovereign Militia couldn’t have been the ones that attacked the people in Lebanon?”

  “No, not the unit we battled at the armory anyway.” Franklin shook his head. “The group that killed the people in the Lebanon meadow had to be another and, I think, a better-trained group. From the time provided by an eyewitness to that attack, the battle at the armory happened at about the same time as the attack in Lebanon.”

  “There was a witness?” The police superintendent’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yes,” Franklin said. “Neal Evans, a navy vet hiking to his home in Washington State. He believed the attackers had night-vision gear because of the swiftness of the attack and the low number of noncombatant casualties.”

  Those across from Franklin nodded, but, at the head of the table, the governor continued to stare blankly.

  Disconcerted, Franklin looked away.

  “Could these attacks have been coordinated?” Thompson asked.

  “Possibly.” Franklin nodded. “The unit we battled wanted to become an affiliate of the Sovereign Militia. There could be other associated units.”

  “I believe this meshes well with the reports we’ve received from other National Guard units and refugees,” Thompson said.

  “Yes.” The mayor sighed.

  “We have a serious threat south of the city.” The police superintendent shook his head. “More police and soldiers come to us daily, but hunger and thirst are driving many civilians to looting and violence.”

  “We can’t provide for or protect everyone,” the mayor added.

  Discussion continued for nearly an hour. When it ended, everyone, except the governor, stood and left the room. Thompson escorted Franklin out of the building. As the two approached the convoy, soldiers led the militia prisoners across the lawn toward the building they had just left.

  “What will happen to them?” Franklin asked.

  “They’ll be shot … well, after we finish interrogating them.” Thompson shook Franklin’s hand. “Have a safe trip.”

  * * *

  Within an hour, the convoy left Salem and headed north along familiar roads toward Portland. A clear blue sky promised a warm day and Franklin could almost imagine that this was a normal drive, except for the abandoned cars and occasional groups of people walking along the freeway edge. The last few days seemed surreal, like a nightmare lingering into wakefulness.

  Franklin bit his lip and focused on the here and now. Millions, perhaps billions of people faced dehydration, starvation, and disease. Thinking of humanity so broadly made the problem abstract. His thoughts turned to his own family. As the world collapsed into chaos, how could he protect them? For the rest of the drive north, he struggled to find solutions for basic needs like food and water, but death for millions haunted every idea.

  The convoy slowed to a stop at a new wood-and-barbed wire gate near the Portland Cyber Intelligence Center. Three sentries held M4s; another knelt by an M2 machine gun. Keller spoke with the gate guard and within seconds all the vehicles were waved through.

  The drivers parked the rigs in the lot next to the center. Franklin stepped from his Humvee as General Sattler emerged from the nearby building.

  Franklin saluted.

  “I’m glad you’re back.” The general thrust out his hand and the two shook. “What did you find?”

  “Remember the conference call with General Abbott? He stated that you were promoted to brigadier general for the duration of the emergency.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  From his pocket Franklin pulled the star patches he had bought from the uniform shop. “You’re going to be wearing these for a long time.”

  General Sattler stared at the patches for several moments. “That conclusion doesn’t surprise me.” He nodded toward the base office building across the street. “Neal Evans delivered your report yesterday. The situation here is deteriorating rapidly. Gang fights, looting, robbery ... your report and what you just said is a confirmation of our own growing dilemma, but I want to hear your latest news.”

  The last few words barely pierced Franklin’s worried mind. How were Carol and the boys doing? “Uh … yes, sir. But when I’m done, I’d like to check on my family.”

  “Certainly.” General Sattler nodded. “We’re establishing a defensible perimeter and moved your family and others into the secure area.”

  Franklin sighed in relief and grinned as he followed Sattler into the building.

  Just inside, he stopped and stared at a nearby light. “You’ve got electricity working?”

  “Just in this area.” Sattler continued down the hall. “We’ve brought in several additional commercial generators and electricians are working around the clock.”

  Feeling better about the current situation, Franklin strode to catch up.

  * * *

  Driving a deuce and still wearing the ACUs he had lived in for the last five days, Franklin weaved as he attempted to follow the scratch-paper map the general had drawn.

  A bump caused him to look away from the paper as the vehicle rolled onto the sidewalk. Franklin yanked the wheel, steering the vehicle back onto the pavement. “Eyes on the road,” he mumbled.

  Spotting the desired street sign, he turned left and then into a driveway. Before he could turn off the engine, Carol stepped from the front door onto the porch.

  Franklin grabbed a backpack full of MREs and water bottles as he stepped from the truck.

  Carol smiled wide and called back through the screen door. “Boys, your dad is home,”

  His sons bounded out of the house to greet him. Carol followed the boys at a more demure pace but with an equally welcoming smile.

  “Where have you been?” Logan asked. “What happened?”

  Franklin hugged his boys. “Let me change and freshen up.” He passed the backpack to James. “Here, take this into the house for me.”

  “How long can you stay?” Carol asked as they embraced.

  Mountains of worry tumbled from him as they kissed. “Maybe the weekend.” He shrugged. “If things stay calm.”

  Holding hands, she led him toward the house. “There was a man here yesterday.”

  “Was his name Neal?”

  Carol smiled. “Yes. Thank you for the letter. We were worried.” She leaned her head on his shoulder then wrinkled her nose and leaned away. “There’s water in the bathroom upstairs if you want to wash up.”

  Just like the hotel in Salem, Franklin spotted the water jugs in the bathroom. He found his toothbrush and razor on the counter and put them to good use. Then he removed his smelly uniform, stepped into the tub, and gave himself a sponge bath with cold water. When he stood in front of the mirror in clean clothes, he could almost imagine nothing had changed for him and his family—except this wasn’t their home.

  He toured the four bedrooms upstairs. The chest where they kept the shotgun, pistol, and ammo sat in a corner of the master bedroom. He worked the combination and checked. The shotgun and most of the ammo were inside, but not the pistol.

  Many of the trinkets, rugs, and furniture were unfamiliar, but mixed in with them were other pictures, clothing and memorabilia that he did recognize. All of this left him with the feeling of a man stuck in an alternate universe, somewhat familiar but not quite.

  Franklin bounded down the stairs and found his family in the living room. “This seems like a good house, bigger than our old one, but how … when did we get it?”

  “Lieutenant Poole came by our old home two days ago.” Carol brushed back her hair. “He said the owners of this house were visiting Australia, and would probably never return, so the army requisitioned
it.”

  “That makes sense.” Franklin nodded, even though he felt bad for the previous occupants. “It wouldn’t make sense to leave a home empty when it is within walking distance from the base.”

  “Then why did you drive the big truck here?” Carol asked with a grin.

  “That’s our moving truck,” Franklin said. “General Sattler told me you had moved closer, but that many of our belongings were still in the old house. I figured we could gather the things we need and want tomorrow.”

  His sons nodded. “I’ve gotta get a lot of stuff,” Logan said.

  “You were supposed to be gone only two days,” James said. “What took you so long?”

  “The EMP has caused a lot of problems.” Those words seemed totally inadequate to the turmoil, hunger, and death he had encountered. After a deep breath, he described the bedlam at the nearby hospital; then he talked about the refugees at the Portland airport with no place to go, but he didn’t mention the shooting. He then described how dark Salem had been that first night.

  “Darkness is everywhere now.” Carol looked out the window. “With so little electricity.”

  “Do they turn the power off at night?” Franklin asked.

  Carol nodded. “Just after sundown for the homes.”

  “They did the same in Salem.” Franklin inhaled a deep breath. “The first night I was there, a nearby armory radioed that they were under attack. We went and ….” There was so much he wanted to say. Carol would want to know how fast civilization was collapsing, but how could he tell her, or the boys, about extracting information from Dick by stabbing him? How could he tell them about all the people who had been murdered or killed … about the flames and smell of the funeral pyre? Perhaps later, alone with Carol, he could say more. He stared ahead lost in his thoughts.

  “I’ll get you something to eat.”

  He smiled, grateful for the diversion.

  Later, as Franklin ate, he recalled his imagined meal from yesterday. That breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee seemed grand compared with his actual dinner of cold ravioli and an MRE. He threw the remains in the trash as he listened to the boys banter over a chess game. So much had already been lost.

  “Dad, will you play the winner?” James asked.

  “Tomorrow. Time for bed. Lights out in five minutes, boys.” Carol ushered their sons upstairs

  Franklin put his plate in the sink. Carol strolled down the stairs, entered the kitchen and kissed her husband.

  “Where’s the pistol?” Franklin asked.

  “You were always one for sweet talk.” She leaned close and whispered. “Join me in the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

  With every passing moment, the world fell deeper into the abyss of chaos, hunger, and despair, but as he followed his wife up the stairs, he thanked God for the one thing that really mattered: he and his family were safe.

  Day Seven

  Portland, Oregon, Saturday, September 10th

  It might have been a normal early morning drive with the family, except for the pistol on his hip and that he drove a deuce-and-a-half truck. Carol sat beside him. The boys had opted to ride in the back.

  The night chill clung to the morning air, but the rising sun shone through the side window as Franklin drove past the steel-and-barbed-wire gate. So much had changed in a week. The small compound of the Cyber Intel Center had expanded to encompass the University of Portland and surrounding neighborhoods. This area, like that in Salem, had limited power and water. Perimeter gates, fences, and walls were under construction around the clock.

  The guard waved him through the gate and Franklin turned left along an empty street of shuttered and boarded buildings.

  A few blocks later, he turned down a residential street; several people ran from their homes and waved frantically, trying to get him to stop. A man ran at the truck.

  Carol gasped.

  Franklin yanked the wheel right and missed the man by inches.

  A thump came from the back of the truck. James laughed.

  “Are you okay?” Carol called over her shoulder.

  “Yeah,” James shouted. “Logan fell, but he’s fine.”

  Another person stood waving in the street.

  Franklin drove around him.

  “They’re hungry,” Carol whispered as she stared at the adults, children, and dogs that dotted the roadside.

  “Yes,” Franklin replied, keeping a watchful eye for anyone else who might try to stop the truck. His family was a bit hungry, but these people would soon be starving—and they knew it. Leaving the defensive perimeter around the base with his family might have been a mistake. He pressed the gas.

  At the back of his mind, a thought niggled like a thorn, painful and irritating. How soon would hunger turn to desperation, chaos, and rioting? He would keep his family close to home, and as safe as he could.

  “There’s the street.” Carol pointed.

  Torn from thought, Franklin pulled the wheel hard to the left, inducing another thud and a laugh from James.

  Franklin backed the deuce into his driveway and parked. As he stepped from the vehicle, Ted hurried over from next door.

  “How come that truck works, but so many others don’t?” his neighbor asked.

  “Hi, Ted. Good to see you.” Franklin forced a grin.

  “Oh, yeah. Hi, Dirk. Glad to see you’re okay.”

  “You too, Ted. I don’t know the details, but military vehicles are built to withstand EMPs.” Franklin turned to Carol as she helped the boys from the back of the truck.

  “Hi, Dirk.” Another neighbor joined them, but, unable to recall his name, Franklin just smiled and nodded.

  Carol passed the house key to the boys and they ran to the house, then she smiled and greeted both neighbors.

  “How are you doing for food?” Ted asked.

  “None here,” Franklin interjected. He had no intention of telling Ted about the backpack full of food and water he had brought to the other house, or the remaining supplies Carol had taken from this one.

  “I still have some food, but a lot of it will spoil soon.”

  “Your frozen stuff?” Carol asked. “I thought you had a generator.”

  “He does,” the other neighbor interjected.

  What was his name? Franklin stared, but couldn’t remember.

  “Ted’s been sharing power with others. Running extension cords to my house and others, but it uses more gas.

  “I’m low on gas.” Ted frowned.

  “Eat what you can,” Carol suggested.

  “I barbequed some three days ago and used all the briquettes I had.”

  “Use our barbeque.” Carol smiled and turned to her husband.

  He had bought the propane grill last summer and had three full canisters that would probably never be refilled. “Use it.”

  “Thanks.” Ted smiled. “Several people have food that will go bad, I’ll see if we can get a few other grills and organize a neighborhood barbeque. Bring what you have. You’re all invited.”

  Ted and the other man hurried across the street before Franklin could object. All he wanted was to move his family to safety and then relax with them for a few precious hours. He had no interest in attending a block party.

  Carol waved to the neighbors gathering across the street, and then she clasped Franklin’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they stepped toward the house. “Ted is doing the same thing we are.”

  “I’m not annoying anyone.”

  She giggled. “He’s just trying to survive. We should help.”

  Franklin drew a deep breath. “What can we do?”

  The boys bounded out the front door. Each held a box brimming with trophies, models, games, and baseball bats.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Carol opened the screen door. “The games might be useful.”

  “Maybe even the baseball bat.” Franklin grinned.

  Inside, Carol stopped him. “Could the base spare some gasoline for Ted’s generator, or m
aybe some food?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt there’s any extra food, and the modern army runs on fuel, but I might be able to help Ted and some of our other neighbors.”

  Carol cast him a questioning glance.

  “The general is converting an empty warehouse into temporary housing. He’s starting to bring in electricians, plumbers, carpenters, and others with needed skills.”

  “Ted is an insurance actuary.” Carol shook her head. “Ron manages a department store. I don’t know what Bill did, but he’s retired.”

  “I’ll see about getting some gas.”

  For the rest of the morning, the family filled the truck with boxes of belongings. Just past noon, Franklin walked out the front door with the last load.

  Ted strolled over and stared into the truck. “Did you hear about the murders on the next block?”

  “No.” Franklin pushed the last box into the back, leaving just enough space for his sons to sit during the return trip.

  “An old couple was killed and the house ransacked. I think they were looking for food. We can hear gunfire every night now.” Ted sighed. “I’m glad Carol and the boys are safe.”

  “Safe has always been a relative term.” Franklin leaned on the tailgate. “They’ll be safer, but is anyone safe?”

  “No.” Ted shook his head. “A lot more people are going to die.” His eyes were sad, but his gaze held firm. “Most of us aren’t going to make it through the winter … I’ve run risk assessments for many years; I know that the odds are I won’t see next spring.”

  “No one knows the future.” For the first time, Franklin felt a connection with Ted. “We’ve all just got to do the best that we can and hope … maybe pray a lot more than we have in the past.”

  “I agree.” Ted nodded slowly. “I hope you come to the block party this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” Franklin forced a grin on his face as he pulled the keys from his pocket. “The grill is on the back porch, and the gate is unlocked.” He paused for a moment. “I’m going to try to come back later with gasoline for you.”

  “That would be a big help.”

  Carol and James exited the house, followed by Logan wearing a football helmet and pads. Both the boys ran past her and jumped into the back of the truck.