by Ward III, C.
The small town of Lake City housed approximately 850 permanent residents. On the weekends, especially this weekend, the town’s population quadrupled in size with vacationers like Victor from the metro areas of lower Michigan.
“That it is. Good luck this weekend with the crazies, and be safe on the roads. The kids and I are camping at the rifle range, so if you’re up that way, feel free to stop by for a s’more,” said Victor as they crossed the road, knowing the sheriff would be too busy with drunken tourists tonight.
Strolling halfway down the boardwalk, they finally found an open patch of beach to claim. As expected, Zavier had a stream of melted double chocolate running from his hand, down his arm, and then dripping off his elbow.
“Well, at least you’ll taste good for the fish in the lake,” Victor told him with a smirk. By the time he could negotiate Zavier’s shirt off without covering it in more chocolate, his brothers were already diving into the water.
Victor spread out a beach towel, took his shirt off to enjoy the summer sun, and then stacked their clothes on one end of the towel. Lying back on the stack of clothes, he decided to shut his eyes for a minute…
Victor woke to the sound of metal crunching, glass shattering, and tires squealing. He sat up quickly, seeing his children in the water looking and pointing beyond the beach to the main road. Victor turned around just in time to see a small sedan hit the curb and go flying down the hill directly toward him. He dove left and rolled in the sand just as the front of the car slammed into his beach towel, bouncing violently, then continued into the lake with an enormous splash.
The car was still afloat but sinking fast. As Victor dove into the water, he could see the driver’s face smashed against the steering wheel. His boys reached the car at the same time. “Curtis, try opening the passenger door!” Victor was shaking the door handle and pulling on the driver’s side with no luck.
Curtis shook his head.
“Michael, toss me a fist-size rock from the beach!”
Michael made it to the shore in record time, found a big rock, and threw it to his dad. In one smooth motion, Victor caught the rock, palmed it, and then smashed the driver-side window. The car began filling with water as he reached in to unlock the door. He had to put his feet against the car and pull on the door with both hands to counter the resistance of the water flowing in.
The car went under water as everyone on the beach watched in horror. Victor surfaced with the driver a short time later. He pulled the driver to the shore using a lifeguarding sidestroke he had learned during Combat Water Safety Swimmer training in the Marine Corps.
“Someone call 911!” Victor yelled to the gathering crowd. Victor laid the driver out flat, then did a quick look over for bleeding. He tilted his chin back and put his own ear and cheek to the driver’s mouth while looking at the driver’s chest for signs of breathing.
“My phone’s dead.”
“Mine is too.”
“Dad, my phone is dead too.”
Looking beyond the crowd on the beach toward town, Victor could see a small pillar of black smoke drifting up. But there were no sirens, no other traffic noise, no nothing. He looked at his watch. Nothing on the screen. “You there! What time is it?”
“I don’t know; my watch is dead too!”
Victor looked at his boys, who all wore a confused look. “Grab our stuff. Let’s go.”
“What about this guy?” said someone from the crowd, pointing to the driver.
“He’ll be all right. Unconscious for now. Maybe a concussion. Carry him up the block to the fire department if you want. EMTs should be on duty,” Victor said as he turned to leave.
“What’s going on, Dad? Where are we going?”
“I have an idea. Let’s go find the sheriff.”
The intersection where he found the sheriff was chaos. Cars were smashed into each other, some had crashed into buildings, some on the sidewalk, and others had stopped in the middle of the road.
“Sheriff Bohner, you realize what just happened? Do you know what an EMP is?”
Victor couldn’t tell if the sheriff was in shock or if he was just that cool calm and collected. “Yeah, unfortunately I do. It’s the worst of the doomsday scenarios. You think this is it?”
“I do. You probably know that we are in a major shitstorm here. This is your show, but I would try to gather as many of these people as you can find and explain what just happened. Tell them the truth. We don’t know if it was a solar flare, a localized EMP attack or countrywide. Many of the tourists may want to make their way back south toward home. You and I know that’s a bad idea, but I would let them go. There’s four times the people in this town as normal because of the holiday, which means resources will be depleted within a few days. It’s about to be the wild, wild west.”
“What are you going to do?” asked the sheriff.
“My boys and I are going to go gather our camping gear. We’ll be back in a couple of days. I’d recommend getting the city council together to begin coordinating emergency action plans. Whatever is left of this town when we get back, we’ll help out anyway we can.”
“Happy Independence Day,” said Sheriff Bohner as he turned and headed up the street toward the center of town.
“Come on, boys. let’s get our stuff out of the Jeep.” Victor said to his boys. But when he looked back, all three of them were standing on the sidewalk with the same look of terror they had coming out of the haunted house last Halloween.
“Dad, what’s an EMP? What’s happening?” asked Curtis.
“OK, boys, this is going to be hard to wrap your head around. I’m not sure if I believe it just yet myself. An EMP is an Electromagnetic Pulse. Imagine a large tidal wave of electrical radiation rippling through the air. Every modern electronic has a solid-state microcircuit built to operate on a tiny amount of energy. An EMP’s energy tsunami will overload and fry those tiny microcircuits.”
“How do you know that is what happened?”
Victor held out his arms and spun around. “Look around. I knew it as soon as the cell phones and wristwatches were dead.”
Michael asked, “What caused it?”
“That is a great question. The best-case scenario, this is a cosmic event. Maybe a large solar flare from the sun. It wouldn’t be the first time in history. If it’s solar, this might be an isolated incident and help could come sooner or later.”
“Worst-case scenario?” asked Curtis.
“We are under attack. An enemy could have nuked us from high altitude, most likely a few of them across the country. If that’s the case, life as we know it will never be the same. EMP is the worst kind of attack, because our society will collapse within days, citizens will start robbing and killing each other for food. People will freeze and starve to death during the winter without electricity and fuel. Then, when there is hardly anyone left, the enemy rolls in and conquers the land with little to no resistance.”
“Nuked us? Won’t we all die from radiated acid rain or something?” Michael asked, looking pale.
“No, you’re talking about getting radiation sickness from fallout. That’s caused by ground-burst nuclear weapons that kick up radioactive particles into the atmosphere, then fall back to earth. High-altitude weapons don’t do that. I didn’t even see a flash or a heat wave, did you? You know what also sucks? Even if our phones did survive, most likely the communication satellites overhead at the time probably got cooked, meaning we couldn’t call anyone anyway.”
“So where are we going now?”
“To grab our guns from the jeep and then to the grocery store on the way back to camp. I don’t want us to be anywhere near population, even this town, over the next few days.”
Zavier asked, “If the cars don’t work, how are we getting back to camp?”
“We walk, son. We walk.”
PLOUTONION OPENED
Unlocking the gates of Hades.
Every day was a leg workout day for Kevin and the other security staff who chose to climb the
eighteen-story (plus sublevels) stairwell to the “Crow’s Nest” overlooking Michigan Central Station’s property and surrounding neighborhood. There was a secure elevator that could take him to the top, but that would be cheating. Starting his workout at the very bottom of the substructure stairwell, Kevin slung his M4 across his back, then started the incline hike slowly, taking two steps at a time, leaning into a deep lunge and straining his leg muscles with each lift. He typically made it ten floors before having to climb the stairs like a normal person.
It was right about then that the stairwell lights unexpectedly went out, causing him to stumble and crash into the darkness, landing heavily on his shoulder. After a few disorientating seconds of self-evaluation, painfully rotating his arm in wide circles, and wiggling his fingers, the emergency lighting flickered to life.
“The hell was that?” he muttered out loud. Expecting an eruption of chatter, he examined his radio to make sure it was powered on and dialed to the correct channel. It was.
“Base, Base, this is Leprechaun.” Silence.
“Base, Base, this is Leprechaun. Power failure in the stairway to heaven, over.” More silence.
That’s not good, he thought. He unslung his rifle for better control and started bounding up the stairs as fast as his already-burning thighs would allow. Once he got to the top, he burst through the fire door to the Crow’s Nest to find himself looking down the barrel of a rifle.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s Leprechaun! What are you doing out here Fred? You better lower that thing before I beat you with it.”
The guard dipped his muzzle slightly so he could see clearly over the sights. “Sorry. Something happened.”
“Yeah, I know. The lights just went out in the stairway,” Kevin said, clearly irate.
“No, I mean out there, man,” Fred said, ignoring Kevin’s anger and pointing toward the large northwest-facing windows. “Something’s not right. It’s like someone hit the pause button. Everything just stopped.”
They both walked over to the artistically cracked windows matching all the others while also being mirrored so their surveillance activities wouldn’t draw attention to the inconspicuous dilapidated building. Kevin immediately noticed the CCTV camera displays were off. He picked up one of the several pairs of binoculars sitting on the window ledge.
“Look at the highway,” Fred instructed.
“Residual morning traffic?”
“Look closer, man!”
Kevin zoomed in, then focused on the closest stretch of highway, where cars where at a standstill. Instead of bumper to bumper as usual, they were stopped with abundant space between vehicles, and all the drivers were outside, wandering around on the road. Kevin scanned down a busy city street that held the same strange activities.
“You see?” Fred asked. “Do you hear that?”
Kevin shook his head while still observing, trying to understand the phenomenon.
“Exactly! Nothing! It’s fucking quiet, man!”
Lowering the binos, he watched a thick black smoke column protruding swiftly from the downtown city center, darkening the would-be-clear sky. It appeared that Detroit proper was on fire.
“What happened there?” He tilted his chin toward the smoke.
“A damn plane fell out of the sky! Fell right into the city, man!”
“Your comms work? My radio is dead.”
“Nah, man, I tried to call on the phone. Hard line is down too.”
Kevin instructed Fred to run down to the Security Operation Center to report everything he had seen. He then unlocked the weapons cage, pulling out a large spotting scope and a .338 Lapua bolt-action rifle, then attempted to power on the Kestral weather meter with ballistics calculator—only to find the electronic device completely inoperable.
What was normally a one-hour observation post turned into an all-day standing. Today, he didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred being up here, able to use his own two eyes to witness the events taking place in the city. Eventually, another security member came to replace him.
“Hell of a day, eh, Leprechaun?”
“You got that right.”
“Tell me what you got here, then head down to the cafeteria. All-hands meeting from the head shed in fifteen minutes. That includes us, too, for a change.”
Kevin gave a quick synopsis of what had happened throughout the day and handed over the detailed range card he had sketched with distances and elevation adjustments for several visual reference points. He doubted they would need it, but it had kept him busy and vigilant for the several hours he’d been up in the Crow’s Nest.
By the time he made it to the cafeteria, it was standing room only. Everyone was there: janitorial staff, kitchen staff, administrators, a bunch of suits, people in lab coats, and even the shuttle bus drivers. He squeezed in against the back wall, where he found a few of his coworkers.
A man dressed in slacks, an untucked button-up shirt, absent tie, and quarter-rolled sleeves climbed on top of a table near the front of the cafeteria. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention? Please, please take a seat if you have one. For those who do not know me, my name is Dr. Neville, Project Operations Director of this facility. At approximately eleven thirty, the United States was attacked by several EMP weapons—”
Like kicking dirt on an anthill, the crowd quickly became agitated, buzzing with questions and erupting concerns.
“Please. Please. Let me tell you what we know as of now.” Waiting for the crowd to settle, he paced the length of the long table, looking down, running his hand through his hair, looking like someone who’d had an all-night executive board meeting. “An EMP is an Electromagnetic Pulse weapon designed to destroy electronics. This is what caused our power failure this morning. Since then, we have been running on emergency generators. The bad news is this attack just crippled our nation. The way of life as we have known it is over. The good news is an EMP is a line-of-sight weapon, and the one that hit us was off the East Coast somewhere near southern Virginia. Anything out in the open was surely fried. But if underground or heavily shielded, there is a good chance electrical equipment could be salvageable. Being subterranean is why our emergency generators and equipment are still operational. I know that you all have a lot of questions and are concerned for your family’s well-being, but first I’d like the Director of Security to make an announcement.”
Holding his hand out, he helped Mr. Dellione step up onto the table. “Hello. Most of you know me or my security staff. What I am about to say may seem extreme or even fabricated, but please believe everything I am about to propose. As Dr. Neville has said, life as we all know it has changed. This crisis will not be fixed today, tomorrow, or even next week. You need to take the next couple of hours to reflect on this calmly and rationally. Anyone who wants to take a look at the city, which is now in a state of flaming chaos, you are welcome to accompany security to our eighteenth-floor observation post. Some of you may wish to remain secured in this building for the next three to five days until generator fuel is depleted. Most of you will probably want to get home as soon as possible. What we all need to understand is that all our shuttle vehicles, even after being in the garage, are inoperable except for two. But even those two are useless on the blocked roads. This means when we leave this building, two hours from now, we will be on foot, carrying only the clothes you are wearing and a small food satchel put together by our considerate cafeteria staff.
“My job is to not only protect this building, but also all of you. My security staff also wants to get home, and in doing so, will offer an armed escort through the city. Located on the wall behind you are four routes which we will be traveling. Write your name below the route you wish to take. The choice is up to you to either tag along with us, go on your own, or stay here. Good luck. May God grant you a safe travel. From this day forward, self-protection and perseverance are individual responsibilities. Keep your powder dry.”
As Mr. Dellione stepped down, the room exploded in conversat
ion and debates. Kevin quickly made his way to the door before a tidal wave of people would trample him in a stampede. As he rounded the corner, he ran directly into a familiar face.
“Anny, is it?”
She looked at him, clearly shaken, then instantly barraged him with an array of questions.
“Leprechaun? Ah, hi. Where are you going? What are you going to do? Are you leaving with the rest of them? This is bad. This is really bad!”
“I’m not sure yet. I have no reason to get home, so I might sit tight to formulate a semi-intelligent plan of action. You are right: this is bad. The next steps need to be smart. It’s only day one, and the gunfire inside the city sounds like the Iraq invasion.”
“I don’t mean the EMP. Yeah, uh that’s bad too. But something worse—much worse—has happened. You should come with me right now!”
Kevin was rational, quick thinking, and generally a good judge of character. He knew that knowledge is power, and she had high-level information that he did not. At that moment, he decided his short-term survival strategy was best fit for a well-balanced team, and hopefully he had just recruited his first member.
He leaned forward in the office chair with his elbows on the conference table, rubbing his temples with both hands, trying to soak in what Anny had just described to him as potentially a new plague. This wasn’t his kind of battle—he preferred an enemy he could see and outmaneuver strategically. “You think they are related? The timing…EMP and this new pathogen?”
“I couldn’t begin to speculate. In the big scheme of things, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “What does matter is that we lost power, lab cultures were compromised, the air filtration was down for over ten seconds. Contamination procedures were broken because of the crises topside. I’ve voiced my concerns already about the possibility of infected people running around inside this building, getting ready to march right out into the population!”