The Geostorm Series (Book 6): Geostorm [The Pioneers]

by Akart, Bobby

  Most were casually dressed and somewhat haggard from the trip. High-level government officials were used to traveling in first-class accommodations, not troop transport helicopters. They were in good spirits, however, and anxious to get to work. Despite political affiliation, they all shared a common purpose, which was to get the country back on its feet and help as many Americans survive as they could.

  After getting settled into their hotel rooms, they were led to the Taft Room located in the hotel’s second-floor conference center. Massive generators had been brought through coordination between FEMA and the USAASC, the U.S. Army Acquisition Support Center.

  Most of the first and second floors of the Greenbrier had electricity to power lights and audio-visual equipment. A temporary communications center was established in the Johnson and Rayburn rooms located in the former bunkers beneath the hospital. The military personnel were quartered there or in tents on the spacious front lawn of the Greenbrier.

  Once everyone was settled in the eighteen-hundred-square-foot Taft Room, named after President William Howard Taft, the president greeted them with a few opening remarks before turning the presentation over to Marc Ducci and members of his Department of Homeland Security Team, which included the familiar face of Nola Taylor from NASA.

  Ducci first briefed the attendees on the nation’s military readiness. At the risk of their security, the president had diverted military assets to recovery efforts. Their goal was to rescue and protect as many Americans as possible.

  Over the years, the nation’s military equipment had been systematically hardened against the profound impact of an electromagnetic pulse, whether man-made or natural, as was the present case. In the 1990s, a commission was formed, led by Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, designed to study the impact of an EMP attack on the nation’s power grid. It was this report that prompted the government to take action to protect their electronics. It was also instrumental in President Houston’s decision to implement the black start program designed to protect the grid.

  While many debated the wisdom of the president’s decision at the time, as it turned out, the extent of the catastrophe rendered the issue moot. The electrical infrastructure of the nation would have to be rebuilt at some point.

  “What about the death toll, Marc? Is there any way to discern numbers?”

  “Mr. President, to be quite honest, the numbers are based upon conjecture and best-guess estimates derived from the EMP Commission findings. I have a communique from Dr. Peter Vincent Pry, the former chief of staff to the Congressional Committee on EMPs.

  “His estimate, based solely upon the effect of the grid shutdown, is that roughly seventy percent of Americans have perished due to lack of adequate shelter, food, clean water, and needed medications.

  “He was unable to opine as to the loss of life due to societal unrest, but, as we’ve known for months, the mayhem in the larger populations centers was beyond our control. The martial law declaration did very little to control the violence.”

  The president rubbed his temples as he considered the numbers. “Marc, are you sure? Two hundred million dead in a matter of three months?”

  “Well, sir, all of our studies confirm that humans can barely survive beyond three days without fresh water or three weeks without adequate nutrition. Our body’s functions simply fail at those critical stages. As the weeks and now months pass by, and due to our inability to reach pockets of the country that are cut off by the flooding, the deaths most likely rose exponentially.”

  “But seventy percent?” The president was astonished and somewhat skeptical.

  “Sir, Dr. Pry believes the number could be much higher as a result of the catastrophe itself. He pointed out in his summary that the seventy percent figure over three months was based solely on an EMP knocking out the grid. The cataclysmic effect of the geological changes naturally results in a much higher death toll.”

  The president sighed and looked around at the remnants of America’s government. Everyone immediately realized how lucky they were to be alive.

  “Please tell me that’s all the bad news to share.”

  “Well, sir, let me address the transformation our planet is undergoing. Based upon information received from the team at Cheyenne Mountain and from Ms. Taylor, the NASA representative who has joined us once again, we can now confirm that the pole shift has suddenly stopped.”

  Nola Taylor meekly raised her hand to interrupt and be allowed to speak.

  The president saw her before Ducci and called upon her, as he valued her opinion. “Go ahead, Nola.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. I want to clarify Mr. Ducci’s statement so no one gets the wrong impression. None of the scientific data is conclusive. For some time, unknown to us, of course until several months ago, the Earth’s mantle and crust had engaged in a fierce battle to the death.

  “The fast pole shift has resulted in a shifting of the tectonic plates. The hot, gooey mantle has been creating land masses beneath the planet’s surface, but the cold outer crust is tearing them apart. The seismic activity around the globe has been unimaginable.”

  “But Ducci says the reports show the shift has stopped,” interjected the president.

  “It might just be a respite, sir. Regardless, the enormous change in weight in some parts of the world triggers more activity below. Even if the wandering poles have found their final resting spot until, of course, they decide to shift again, the planet will take many decades to find a balance between mantle and crust.”

  Frustrated, the president threw his hands up. “How are we supposed to plan if we can’t predict, much less identify, the current state of affairs?”

  Taylor didn’t try to answer his question because there was no definitive answer.

  After several seconds during which time nobody made eye contact with the president, Ducci continued his presentation. “Sir, at this point, the best we can do is provide you all available information and monitor the situation so a recovery plan can be formulated.”

  The president waved his hand in front of him. “Fine, continue.”

  “We are using our satellite assets to monitor weather as well as seismic events, including volcanic activity. Naturally, to the best of our ability, the rising water levels, too. We’re in the midst of an unprecedented global emergency. The use of the phrase extinction-level event has become cliché.

  “Weather patterns have been disrupted, resulting in changes to farmable lands. It will take time to determine if America’s breadbasket is in the Midwest, or closer to what is now the west, well, um, the southern coast—Idaho, Montana, and Nevada.”

  “I understand,” interrupted the president as Ducci continued.

  “Despite the magnetic reversal ending, for now at least, the waters will continue to rise for some time. Rapid thawing of the permafrost is under way across Canada, Alaska, and the Arctic. Unfathomable amounts of planet-warming carbon dioxide and methane gases are being released into the atmosphere, which will result in wild weather swings. The rains that fell across North America could just be a precursor of things to come.

  “Melting glaciers are wreaking havoc around the globe. The world’s thickest mountain glacier, Taku, located in Alaska’s Juneau Icefield, is a fraction of its former self. It’s just one of twenty major glaciers in the region that are withering away.

  “Likewise, on the other end of the planet, Thwaites, labeled by glaciologists for years as the riskiest glacier due to it being the size of Great Britain, has already accounted for nearly five percent of the planet’s sea-level rise. This so-called doomsday glacier is now melting at a rate so fast that it’s causing all the surrounding continental land masses to disappear.”

  “Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” said the president. “Let me summarize what you’ve told us so far. It’s possible the pole shift has come to an end, but even if it has, the resulting climate change is not only causing sea levels, as well as inland waters, to rise exponentially, but that phenomenon is l
ikely to continue.”

  “Yes, sir,” interrupted Ducci.

  “As that happens, the weight is redistributed, causing seismic activity.”

  “Yes, sir. Both earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are likely for the foreseeable future.”

  “Marc, we can’t plan. We can only react. Does that sum it up?”

  “That’s true, sir.”

  President Houston stood and slammed both hands on the conference table, startling many in the room. “How many more will die?”

  “Sir, according to Dr. Pry, not accounting for casualties related to the natural disasters that have accompanied this event, ninety percent of Americans by the end of the first year. His opinion, due to the fact the power outage has been coupled with the catastrophes we’ve just identified, the timeline will be moved up substantially, and the percentage is likely higher than anything the EMP Commission envisioned.”

  The president fell back into his chair, buried his face in his hands, and fought back his tears.

  “God save us.”

  Chapter 46

  The Hensley Settlement at Shillalah Creek

  Cumberland Mountains

  Southeast Kentucky

  It had been a long time since Sarah had walked ten miles in a single outing, much less along mountainous terrain. The length of the walk was only part of what wore on her. The other was what to do about the fact a FEMA camp full of desperate people was now aware of their new home. On the surface, Fairy and her companion saw a hodgepodge of log cabins with no electricity. However, if they looked at it from a different perspective, they’d see the makings of a new community and a chance of survival. Sarah had to come up with a scenario that ensured her family’s safety while finding common interests with Mayor Rogers and those within her charge.

  “Hey, this looks familiar,” said Carly as Fairy directed them down the slope. It was the exact location she and Levi had used when they first discovered the FEMA camp.

  Fairy tugged on one of the tee-shirt strips Carly had used to mark the trail. “We found strips like these at the bottom of the ridge and got curious. We made our way up and discovered the trail leading along the ridge.”

  Levi and Carly exchanged glances, both immediately recognizing the mistake they’d made. In the future, they’d scrub their trails of marker ribbons and even throw branches and deadfall in the way to obscure the trail’s existence.

  It was early afternoon when they arrived at the camp. The evidence of the battle between the Boones and the rogue operators was still evident. The holes in the fences created by Tommy were loosely stitched together with pieces of chain link. The unusual bulbs in the tall utility lights were hanging by wiry threads, as the occupants of S-53 didn’t have replacements. The generator wasn’t running, prompting Levi to ask why. The answer was simple—it was broken.

  Much like the remaining residents of former FEMA camp S-53.

  A man Levi barely recognized approached them as they arrived at the gate. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted as he hugged Fairy. He looked past her and squinted his eyes to assess the newcomers.

  “Dad, you remember Levi, right?”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I do. You look different in the daytime.”

  Levi extended his hand to shake. “I never got a chance to thank you for that night. It was chaotic.”

  “And I never introduced myself. Peter Parsons.”

  Levi introduced him to Carly and Sarah, who both thanked him for everything he’d done to help free Levi. After some pleasantries, Peter’s curiosity prompted several questions in rapid fire, so Levi explained why they were there.

  “We met up with Fairy and her friend at our camp. It isn’t much, basically some log cabins with roofs that probably leak like a sieve. Heck, we don’t even have beds.”

  Sarah allowed an imperceptible smile. She and Levi weren’t able to talk on the trip over to Camp S-53, so the fact he was downplaying their new home meant he was playing his cards close to the vest. Plus, he was being careful not to lie to the extent of what Fairy’s knowledge was.

  Sarah joined in. “I really wanted to extend my gratitude to you all for helping my son and also to meet Miss, um, Mayor Rogers. I guess. Is she your mayor?”

  Peter replied, “We all consider her to be the leader of this pack of misfits. She’s run a town before, and everyone respects her opinion. She’s doin’ the best she can with little or nothing to work with.”

  “Would you mind taking us to her?” asked Sarah.

  “Sure. Last time I saw her, she was in her office,” replied Peter, which prompted a laugh out of Fairy.

  “Yeah, she sleeps, eats and works in the supply tent. Her desk is a tall crate. Her chair is a short crate. Her bed is three crates put together.”

  “Sounds crate!” exclaimed Carly, prompting the group to begin laughing so loud it attracted the attention of the other residents who’d gathered nearby to study the visitors.

  As Peter led them down the center of the compound to the mayor’s tent, Sarah studied the gaunt faces of the inhabitants of S-53. They were defeated, simply existing until one thing or another ended it for them.

  Fairy left with her friend and said their goodbyes. Peter entered the mayor’s tent, made the introductions, and politely retreated to leave them alone together.

  Sarah and Mayor Rogers immediately hit it off. The two women were both motherly figures to their group and the functional equivalent of tribal elders, the wisdom-keepers and decision-makers who carried the responsibilities affecting their charges on their shoulders.

  Mayor Rogers was tired and did not appear the least bit threatening to Sarah.

  After trading a few compliments, Sarah got right to the point. “Dorothea, I can only imagine how difficult this is for you and those poor folks trying to eke out an existence here. Are you relying solely upon FEMA to continue their food deliveries?”

  Mayor Rogers grimaced and nodded her head. “They’ve not been timely, and the quantity of MREs is dwindling. Far faster than our attrition rate.”

  “Attrition?” asked Sarah.

  “Some of our people are dying. We have mothers who are giving their portion of the food to their kids and therefore aren’t sufficiently nourished. We have desperate dads wandering off into the woods alone in search of abandoned houses or businesses. They never come back. Others have left to return to their homes on foot under the assumption the waters have dropped since the heavy rains ceased.”

  “Does that help your food supplies?” asked Carly.

  “Not really. They were insufficient to begin with, and the other thing that you have to remember is our captors were hogging the MREs for themselves. Some of it was taken elsewhere, presumably to their families.”

  Levi perked up. “Do you have any idea where?”

  “Somewhere north of here. Supposedly, across the New River, as they call it.”

  “Have any of their families or friends come looking for them?”

  “Just two,” she replied, and then she sighed with her eyes closed. “Leonard shot them before I could ask them questions. In any event, that was two weeks ago, and we haven’t seen any outsiders until today.”

  Sarah glanced around at the dozen crates labeled meals-ready-to-eat. “Other than these prepackaged meals from the government, do you have any other means of feeding yourselves?”

  “Well, we do have a couple of hunters who’ve had limited success killing feral hogs. Okay, I call them hunters, but really, they’re just good shots. They’ve killed the hogs, but they really don’t know what to do with them next.”

  “Eat them,” said Carly sarcastically. Sarah gave her a that-was-rude glance, prompting a quick apology. “I’m sorry, I was joking. Do they not know how to field dress it?”

  “No. We have one person who worked in the produce department at IGA, and she’d watched the butchers work before. At first, their efforts were sloppy and inefficient, yielding half the meat available. Also, some got sick because, I guess, they waited too long on
the first couple of kills to clean the meat off the bone.”

  Levi shook his head in disbelief. Every one of these people could have become ill from bacteria. He spoke out of turn as he said, “I could teach them.”

  Sarah’s eyes got wide. She had a plan to work with the residents here, but in her opinion, the Boones had a whole lot more to offer than Mayor Rogers and her people did. “Dorothea, I need to discuss something with you that will come across as callous, so I want to apologize in advance. Okay?”

  “Sure. Our group is too desperate to concern ourselves with hurt feelings.”

  “Good, thank you. We have the ability to take on a couple of small families. By small, I mean parents and a couple of children. They will be able to help us around our place, and they’ll be that many less mouths for you to feed.”

  Mayor Rogers nodded her head and fidgeted as she considered Sarah’s statement. “That’s encouraging. This is no life for children. However, you mentioned the word callous. Is there a catch?”

  “Yes, actually, there is. We have the ability to grow food, perhaps even enough to help you folks next summer when the crops start to come in. In order to do that, I need people who are farmers. Or if they’re not, they need to be able to take over the load of our people, who can then tend to the crops. We all need to learn how to sustain ourselves until our country can get back on its feet.”

  The mayor of Camp S-53 rose to her feet and wandered around the tent, running her fingers through her short gray hair. She reached for a clipboard and began to thumb through a roster of the residents. “You want to pick and choose?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. On the surface, it might appear that we want to take your best people. That’s not the case. We are looking to fill a void with those who can both help us and fit in. Dorothea, you have to understand where I’m comin’ from. I’m willingly bringing in strangers to live with my family. Not under the same roof, but on the same plot of land. If something were to happen, I’d never forgive myself.”