BEYOND THE GRID: An EMP Survival story

by Connor Mccoy

  Jacob slowed down so he could peddle down the middle of the road, cutting between the stalled vehicles. It was bizarre. Yesterday the roads Jacob traveled had been lined with confused people looking for help, answers, anything. The stillness of this current scene sent shivers down his spine.

  Jacob then pedaled past a four-door car that was just off the side of the road. It had smashed into a tree. The impact had crumpled the hood and engine compartment, but worse, it had killed the driver and front passenger on impact. The backs of the two unfortunate souls easily were visible, and before Jacob could stop or turn away, he pedaled within easy sight of their faces. They had smashed into the dashboard so deeply it seemed as though the foot of a giant had squashed the pair into their car.

  Jacob picked up the pace to get away from the car. He felt so ill that he had to skid to a stop. He huffed and wheezed and, for a while, he thought he would throw up.

  “Damn it!” he repeated through heavy breathing. The visage of those two dead people had shaken him up badly. He never had seen people so gruesomely killed, not in person. No R-rated shoot ‘em up film could have prepared him for this.

  It took a few minutes for Jacob to get his bearings. He felt well enough to start riding again, and he vowed to put a great amount of distance between himself and this scene in a hurry.

  Middleburg. Let me get there soon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Doc Sam rapped on the wooden door. With the soft wind blowing through his hair, Cowell watched the door with his hands in his pockets. Though he tried to remain composed, he had remained on edge even while accompanying Doc Sam on the about forty minute-walk to this fish and bait store. It probably was because the enormity of this situation finally was weighing down on him. He couldn’t even feel safe in this small town.

  The doctor must have read his mood on the way here, because he said, “I wouldn’t worry yourself. Trapp’s crime rate is one of the lowest in the state. Most of us know each other. We’re a well-behaved lot.” He chuckled before adding, “It’s when the refugees start pouring in that we might have a problem. That’s why we’re going to have you set by the end of the day.”

  The door opened, breaking Cowell’s train of thought. A black gentleman with a white puffy beard stuck his head out of the doorframe of the fish and tackle store. “Hey, Doc!” the man bellowed with such volume that it stung Cowell’s ears.

  “Moses!” Doc Sam nodded to Cowell. “This here is a stray I picked up. Alexander Cowell. We need to build him a get home bag, that is, if you still got the supplies.”

  Moses stepped out into the sun. He rubbed his long flannel shirt, his hand grazing a yellow stain near the bottom of the shirttail. “Oh, I packed for Doomsday, baby. I have more than enough for whoever you throw at me.” Chuckling, he walked toward Cowell. “Hi. Moses Travers.” He offered his hand. “Lifelong Virginian.”

  Cowell took Moses’s hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you,” Cowell said. Moses acted very friendly, despite his messy appearance. In addition to his stained shirt, he also was wearing old khakis that sported holes at the knees. As Moses walked back to his store, Cowell also took note of a limp in his right leg. Perhaps age or an ailment had struck Moses, though Cowell wondered if Moses possessed a colorful history overseas like the doctor. Birds of a feather do flock together, Cowell thought.

  “Come in.” Moses wagged his right finger. “Let’s get you started, Mister Alex.”

  I prefer to be called Mister Cowell. However, Cowell quickly decided decorum should be the least of his worries. Doctor Sam said Moses could help, and Cowell was eager to get on with matters.

  “Sit, sit.” Moses repeated it as he loaded the wooden table with a bevy of supplies.

  The shop owner had led Cowell and Doc Sam into this back storeroom. Cowell coughed. The air in here was stagnant and hot. Doc Sam must have thought so too. The first thing he did was open the storeroom’s only window. Fortunately, the storeroom also offered a green couch for Cowell to sit on while Moses sorted the supplies.

  “So, tell me, Mister Alex, where are you trying to get to?” Moses asked. “With everyone’s cars shut down, you’re going to have to get there on foot.”

  Cowell cleared his throat. “My residence is actually in Vienna. I would like to go there if possible, but it’s also close to D.C.”

  Doc Sam whistled loudly. “No kidding.”

  “Too close.” Moses’s eyes widened. “You’re going to have scores of folks between you and there, and many of them are going to be scared shitless. I wouldn’t want to be close to them when things start turning ugly.”

  Cowell grimaced. “Right. Yes, Doctor Samuel has told me how dangerous it would be to try going there, so I wasn’t seriously entertaining it. Instead, I’d like to go to Fall Crossing.”

  Doc Sam raised an eyebrow. “Fall Crossing?”

  “Yeah. My older sister lives there and she’s the only family I have that’s close by,” Cowell said.

  “So, you don’t have a wife or kids?” Moses said.

  “No. No, nobody of that sort,” Cowell said, “my mother passed in January and she was divorced from my father. He lives in Florida. Last I heard my stepfather was in Connecticut, but that was a week ago. I couldn’t begin to guess what happened to him.”

  Doc Sam hovered over Moses. “Fall Crossing is an interesting choice. It’s pretty far, much closer to Richmond than up here. But that’s a planned community. I’m amazed part of your flock ended up there considering you don’t exactly go for people who want to live off the grid.”

  “Well, my sister and I never saw eye to eye on a lot of things,” Cowell said.

  “Planned community?” Moses turned his head to look at Doc Sam. “What’s so special about that? There are planned communities all over the country.”

  “Well, a special planned community.” Doc Sam picked up a water bottle from the table and stared at it. “It’s not like the folks who just say, ‘Hey, you can build here, but not over there, to preserve the forest?’ It’s a liberty community. They put out the word that they want folks who think and live a certain way to come and settle there, help build the town. In Fall Crossing, they want you to be self-reliant, value hard work and independence.” He looked at Cowell with a wry grin. “In other words, you’d be knocking on everyone’s door in that little community to get interviews with the kids.”

  Moses frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just a little joke,” Doc Sam replied, “Don’t mind it.”

  Cowell shifted in his seat. He didn’t want to reveal his occupation and he was glad Doc Sam did not speak of it. Although Cowell could do without the doctor’s jest that referenced his past practices with the Avery family.

  “Anyway, I very much would like to get on with this,” Cowell said. “Given what happened yesterday, Fall Crossing probably would be the best place for me. I’m sure you both would agree.”

  “I agree.” Doc Sam scratched his chin. “Those folks know how to live off the grid and likely already are prepping the town for what’s to come. But on foot, that’ll take days to get there from here. You do know this won’t be a quick jog.”

  “I do.” Cowell straightened up. “Please, let’s move on with my get home bag.”

  “Right.” Moses patted a folded-up poncho on the edge of the table.

  “Now, this is a rain poncho. Since you’re going on a multi-day trip, you’re almost certainly going to need this. Now, don’t go thinking you just can stand out in the rain because it’s just a little water on you. Too much rain can cause hypothermia. Remember, your clothes are going to stay wet for a long time. It’s not like you can pop them into the dryer while you relax in a comfy bathrobe.” Moses took hold of the poncho in his right hand. “This little baby will go on you real easy.”

  Makes sense, Cowell thought.

  Moses turned to a set of what looked like cigarette lighters and a small plastic bag beside them. “Now, these are fire starting tools. Lighters and tinder. Usefu
l for warmth and cooking food.”

  Cowell eyed the plastic bag. “Tinder?”

  “Oh, tinder is just the material that starts the kindling burning.” Moses pointed to the bag. “You don’t want to be hunting around the forest looking for stuff to burn, especially if it’s wet out. I know you’re a babe in the woods compared to the rest of us, so we want this to go easy for you.” He picked up the bag. “Rip ‘her open, stick the tinder on the ground and light it with the lighter. Instant flame.”

  “Great,” Cowell said. Short and sweet. He understood everything Moses had said so far. He was starting to feel optimistic about his chances.

  Moses fished out a folded-up map from the pile. “This is pretty self-explanatory. It’s a topographic map that’ll tell you about forests, hills, rivers, streams, all that stuff. Trust me, this is invaluable, especially without GPSs or Google to bail you out. Comes with a compass, too.” Moses then pointed to a paper pad and pen. “Since we can forget about jotting info in our phones, it’s back to good old-fashioned pen and paper. This is great for writing down anything you think you ought to remember later on.”

  “That’s very important,” Doc Sam said with a note of sternness. “You may need to scratch down info on a landmark you see on the way, something you want to keep in mind later on.”

  As Moses brushed his hand across the table, he knocked over a small rectangular hand radio. “Whoops.” He picked up the radio. “Yeah, ordinarily we’d pack one of these too.”

  “I know. It doesn’t work anymore,” Cowell said grimly.

  “Actually, I packed a whole bunch of these babies away in a faraday cage.” Moses switched on the radio.

  Cowell’s heart quickened for a moment, hoping he would hear an emergency transmission of some sort, perhaps a government official finally laying out what had happened and what the people should do. But even after turning the dial, the radio spewed nothing but crackles.

  “It still might come in handy,” Doc Sam said. “You have no idea who might be out there. Someone, someday, may be able to get back on the air.”

  Moses exhaled slowly. “You right.” He set the radio back down. “We still should hold out hope, shouldn’t we?”

  Hope. Is that all we have to go on? Cowell bristled. He was in the middle of a situation with no ounce of certainty from any of the institutions he had been told to rely on while growing up. Now, nobody could count on the American government, the police, or the military coming to the rescue. Everything from here on depended on their—his—ability to fend off both man and elements with whatever tools or cunning existed on hand.

  As Moses pushed aside some of the small clutter, his hand revealed a small pistol and a can of pepper spray. As Moses lifted his hand, it was clear he wanted to show off these two items. “Now, we have to make sure you get to Fall Crossing in one piece. Aside from Mother Nature, man might be your greatest challenge.”

  Cowell’s stomach turned. He figured he would need weapons but viewing them did not make it any easier.

  “The key is keeping anyone who’s looking to make trouble away from you. If an attacker’s approaching, you got to drop him before he gets close. If they got a knife, it’s going to be your ass. Hell, if they got strong muscles behind their hands, you’re going to be lying dead in the leaves anyway.” Moses held the pistol. It was a compact weapon, smaller than any gun Cowell ever had seen in his life, yet its trigger and barrel remained a stark reminder that a gun, however small, would be a deadly one.

  And he might have to use it.

  “Once you reach Fall Crossing, I strongly urge you to train yourself in firearm use. Hopefully, they’ll offer you shelter until you get up to speed,” Moses added.

  Cowell nodded. “Of course.” Mentally, he laced his thoughts with sarcasm. Get up to speed. It’s like I have to relearn how to deal with the world.

  Moses continued to show Cowell everything he would need on the trip to Fall Crossing, including packed food and a canteen to hold water, along with water bottles that would sustain him for the journey. Moses also gave Cowell a book that contained survival instructions and tips.

  “This will speed things along,” Moses said, “I don’t have time to give you the crash course, but I think between what I told you and this little book, you’ll be in good shape.”

  Cowell rapidly flipped through the small manual. He stopped more than once when a term or phrase confused him, such as the “gray man” theory. The book provided instructions on how to blend into a populated area, to go unnoticed by appearing to be as inconspicuous as possible to passers-by. Another page dealt with putting out a fire in the wilderness. Additional flips of the pages instructed Cowell on stringing food up in a tree to remove it from the reach of animals. The book also talked about how to recognize signs of approaching bad weather.

  Damn, this book really is helpful.

  He looked up. Moses already had packed up a bag. Cowell frowned. The “get home bag” was actually a large backpack. It was certainly bigger than Jacob Avery’s bag. It looked more like a camping bag.

  “It’s, uh, certainly big,” Cowell said with a nervous laugh.

  “Yeah, since you’re going to Fall Crossing, we decided not to take any chances with you,” Moses said.

  “But I’m sure this is a big imposition,” Cowell said. “I’m taking a lot from you.”

  “Like I said before, I packed away a lot of supplies for just such an emergency. Even this won’t be a major drain on my inventory.” Moses set the pack on its back on the table. “But, for a haul of this size I would ask for some compensation.”

  “Right, right.” Cowell put the book away, then fished in his back pocket for his wallet. But just as he pulled it out, he grumbled. “Oh, of course. I forgot dollar bills don’t have the value they used to. What would you like me to do for you?”

  “Nothing too complicated. And the good news is you can be done in less than a day.” Moses marched past Doc Sam toward the back of the storeroom. “Just a moment.”

  Moses returned a moment later with a cardboard box. “Now, this is filled with special canteens.” Moses slammed the box down on the couch seat beside Cowell. “All empty, ready to be filled. Now, you’re new here, so you haven’t been to Jellico’s.”

  Cowell shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Alright. No problem. It’ll take a little walking, but you can spot it easy. Jellico’s is an orchard. Since the power went out, the owner, Ian, has been arranging people to do some work there in exchange for fruits, oranges, grapes, pears, things like that. There’s also a well where you can draw water. Now, I’ve got an IOU with Ian, so he’ll let you draw what I need. Your job’s going to be twofold.” Moses picked up one of the bottles. “You’re going to fill these with water. I’m going to take these babies and purify the water inside them so it’s suitable for drinking. Now, the second half of your job is to fetch me a crop of grapes and potatoes.” He tapped his right leg. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. Just do that, and it will pay for the additional help I’m giving you.”

  “That doesn’t sound hard, although I’ve never picked potatoes before or drawn water with a bucket out of a well,” Cowell said.

  “I’ll write down some instructions to help you out. It’s not difficult.” Moses pulled out a pad from his front shirt pocket. Once he fished out a pen from his pants pocket, he began writing.

  More stuff I have to learn, Cowell thought. Still, retrieving the water and food that Moses wanted was a fair and just payment for all that Moses had done for him. Besides, picking crops sounded like an interesting learning experience.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jacob huffed. Even with his physically fit frame, trying to handle this bicycle exhausted him. If he had ridden a bike consistently throughout his adult years, he probably would not feel this wrung out. Only his determination to reach Middleburg kept his feet to the pedals.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind buffeted him. It was so strong that he nearly fell over. Where did t
hat come from?

  Jacob realized that at some point along the way he had left the trees behind and now was riding against fully open air. The highway stretched some distance without the cover of trees, exposing it to gusts of wind. A coating of gray clouds passed by, indicating that a storm might be approaching.

  Another punch of wind nearly knocked Jacob down. He put on the brakes. He was simply too exhausted to keep pedaling and stand against the wind. He would have to walk the bike across this road until the wind died down or the highway was shielded by trees again to block some of the gusts.

  As he trekked down the road, his mind turned to someone he had not thought about in a while. He wondered what Sheryl was doing right now. She had to have realized that the world situation had deteriorated so badly that fleeing her hometown was her best course of action.

  Jacob recalled their past conversations. He had instructed her on how to escape from a populated area that was shut down and in a state of anarchy. Make yourself invisible, for one thing. With the proper clothing, you even can make yourself look like a man to decrease the risk that a rapist or a thief will think you’re an easy mark.

  Sheryl had listened, though sometimes she seemed amused by her brother’s words. Jacob’s scenarios sounded so outlandish. How could things turn so bad? Jacob admitted he wasn’t Nostradamus, that he wasn’t predicting anything would happen for certain, but there was nothing wrong with preparing for a possible disaster just in case. And as Jacob pointed out, large metro areas still could suffer wide scale blackouts, as New York City had in 2003. Major storms could leave large populated areas in tatters, as Hurricane Sandy had done to New Jersey and New York in 2012.

  Of course, yesterday’s solar event dwarfed all of those disasters combined. Jacob hoped Sheryl had understood her current situation early on and got out before the area was engulfed in a major conflagration, either fire, riots or something worse.