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by Kyle Danvers

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  A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller

  Kyle Danvers

  Copyright © 2018 by Kyle Danvers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  1

  It was just another day and dollar for Joel.

  He watched the world thousands of feet below his cockpit whip past in a blur of clouds and sea, the shadow of the airplane he piloted hurtling across the surface like a massive bird of prey.

  The quiet trip between Alaska and California left Joel with little other to distract him than his thoughts—which would’ve been a good thing for him any other day on the job.

  On a typical assignment, Joel wouldn’t have snapped at his wife before he left for work. He wouldn’t have unleashed on her and stormed out of their new house without saying goodbye—but Shelby also wouldn’t have accused him of picking up flying to avoid her.

  As he watched the ocean twinkle beneath him, Joel couldn’t help thinking about how his wife might feel if they crashed now, if she never saw him again. He wished their last words to each other hadn’t been so charged.

  “You alright, man? You’re quiet today,” Joel’s co-pilot, Aaron, asked, stirring him out of his head.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just exhausted,” Joel answered. It wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough.

  Though Aaron was still relatively new to the aircraft and the company, he’d flown with Joel often enough to know not to press his luck with conversation, so he let it go.

  Joel sighed and watched the clouds dance around the nose of the aircraft. When they finally broke, the craft emerged above a massive range of mountains that clawed up at them. The sky seemed to have changed, gotten brighter somehow since they’d crossed from the ocean to the mountains, and Joel admired it bouncing across the snow on the rocky peaks.

  But when the cockpit lights flickered, Joel snapped out of his head and back into the moment.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Aaron asked, wrinkling his eyebrows at Joel.

  “You didn’t see the lights flash just now?”

  “No? Dude, are you sure you’re okay? You’re scaring me,” Aaron said. “Do I need to call for an emergency landing?”

  “Seriously, the lights flashed. If you blinked you would’ve missed it, but I know I saw it happ—” Joel started but cut himself off when the lights flickered again, staying dark longer this time. His heart hammered against his ribcage. Whatever it was causing this, it wasn't right.

  “What the fuck?” Aaron asked. “Look outside!” Panicked, Joel craned his neck to glance out the wide window. The sky had turned an eerie shade of red above them, the color that followed a fire, and lights so bright they stung Joel’s eyes billowed and flashed in the clouds around them, something he’d only ever seen further north during the summer.

  It couldn’t have been the Northern Lights—they weren’t nearly far enough north to see that—but if it wasn’t, what the hell was it? The sun itself seemed to have exploded, sending slinky tendrils of light falling all around them like a spider’s web, consuming the plane and the horizon.

  And then the sky ignited, blinding Joel and rattling the entire plane. Joel blinked the white out of his vision and froze—all the display panels had gone dark. Joel smashed his fist against the nearest one, hoping some physical force would jar it back into operation, but no luck.

  Aviate, navigate, investigate, communicate. Joel repeated the words in his head like a mantra, trying his best to recall the hours of emergency training he’d gone through for a situation like this. None of it applied here, but what else could he do?

  “What’s going on? Jesus, Joel, the engines have stopped, all of them!” Aaron shouted. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it, but now that Aaron had pointed it out, the lack of the engines’ roar was unmistakable—as was the lack of alarms ringing to alert them to it—a silence so encompassing it turned Joel’s blood to ice in his veins.

  They were gliding, falling out of the sky at God only knew what speed, a glorified paperweight.

  “We’re going down,” Joel said, hearing his words as if he were outside his own body. It wasn’t real, couldn’t be happening—and what the hell was happening? Joel didn’t have the faintest clue.

  Was it a bomb, some ballistic attack from overseas? No, that was insane even to think. If it’d been an attack of that kind, Joel wouldn’t be alive to consider it. It must’ve been something more benign, something natural. Had they accidentally flown into a storm and been struck by lightning?

  No, that couldn’t be it either. The light and beams crackling in the sky above and all around the aircraft weren’t like those produced by any thunderstorm he’d ever seen, and after nearly twenty years in the cockpit, he’d seen plenty of them.

  More than that, though a direct lightning strike would’ve done massive damage to the aircraft, it wouldn’t have wholly incapacitated it. That was the kind of scenario Joel had trained for, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

  “You’re joking!” Aaron shouted, staring at Joel. If only. Joel wished he was flying with someone more experienced, someone who knew the aircraft as well as he did. For all his good qualities, Aaron was as green as summer grass in the A320.

  “What about the APU? Shouldn’t we at least try that first?!” Aaron said, his voice high and shrill. Though Joel highly doubted the auxiliary power had survived whatever surge the plane had endured, he nodded anyway. It couldn’t hurt to try, and it would give Joel a few moments of quiet to collect his thoughts while Aaron fiddled with it.

  He sat in his seat, breathing as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Aaron jumped into action, frantic and scattered. The so-called whiskey compass on the dash, the only piece of machinery in the cockpit still functioning, showed they were heading southeast. Joel didn’t know exactly where they were, but the rocky, mountainous terrain below didn’t make him feel any better.

  “It’s not working,” Aaron said a few moments later, his voice flat and hollow in Joel’s ears like it’d come from another room. Joel wished he had something to say, any words that might comfort Aaron, but there weren’t any. They were going to crash, and it was going to happen fast if they kept falling at this rate. The nose of the plane had already sloped down, and they were hurtling toward the surface at a forty-five-degree angle like a dropped bomb.

  “The radios aren’t working either! What the hell do we do, Joel?!” Aaron asked, beating his fists against the controls, but Joel barely heard him. All he could see and hear was his family, crowded around the breakfast table earlier that morning, each of them hiding behind their phones so they wouldn’t have to talk about the way Joel had erupted on Shelby moments earlier.

  As they continued to fall and the whistli
ng of the wind outside the plane filled the cockpit, Joel wished he’d been a better father, a better husband.

  If only he’d listened, if he hadn’t insisted on picking up this trip for some extra money, he might've been safe at home in his bed lying next to Shelby after the kids had left for school, breathing in her scent of lavender and mint as he nibbled at her neck.

  Now, she might never get the apology she deserved.

  “Joel? Joel!” Aaron shouted, seizing his arm and shaking him. It stirred Joel, but only briefly.

  “Brace for impact,” Joel said as he re-positioned his feet on the rudder pedals. There was a valley up ahead, just visible through the strange light and the thick clouds that distorted it, and with any luck, he might be able to land them there, though there was no telling whether or not either of them would survive the crash.

  If there’d been any passengers on board, he never would’ve considered it, but then again, what other choice did he have? One way or another, the plane was going down.

  Aaron started to cry, something Joel didn’t think he’d ever seen a grown man do, much less in the cockpit. The plane jerked and shuddered and through his tears, Aaron buckled himself into his seat and crossed his chest.

  His mumbled, incoherent prayers filled Joel’s ears as the ground grew larger and larger. But his prayers ceased an instant later when an outcropping of rock caught the side of the plane, and a deafening roar tore through the cockpit. As Joel’s vision spun manically around him, a hellish blur of red, white, and orange, Aaron’s half of the cockpit went missing, replaced by a whirl of fire and squealing metal.

  He opened his mouth to scream, but seconds later, Joel’s entire world jolted to a stop.

  2

  Shelby picked up her desk phone in a hurry.

  “Yes, Mrs. Baker?” her office assistant answered after just two rings.

  “Hi Jess, please cancel or reschedule the rest of my appointments for the day,” Shelby said, spitting the words out before she had the chance to gather her senses and change her mind.

  As guilty as she felt for putting her own needs before those of her clients, what good would she be to them in therapy in her current state? No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking and couldn’t stay focused on anything other than the burning anger in the pit of her stomach.

  “Are you sure?” Jess asked.

  “I have to take care of myself before I can take proper care of anyone else,” Shelby said. “I’ll work over the weekend to catch up if I have to. I just don’t have it in me today.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Please just cancel or reschedule the appointments,” Shelby snapped and felt immediately guilty. Still, Jess was her assistant, not her therapist.

  “All right. I hope you feel better. I’ll put a copy of the new schedule on your desk when I have it ready,” Jess said.

  “Thank you,” Shelby said and hung up with a sigh. Her eyes stung with tears, tears she refused to let fall. She wouldn’t give Joel the satisfaction, even if he couldn’t see her crying.

  What the hell had happened? Just a few weeks ago, she’d been confident and sure, excited about what the future held for her and her family, but as soon as they’d moved into their new house in Porter Ranch, the floor had fallen out from under her.

  Joel seemed to have checked out of their marriage, and Shelby didn’t feel like she knew her children anymore.

  If a client had come to her with these same problems, Shelby would’ve quickly diagnosed them as an irrational fear of abandonment and reassured the client that while it was normal for circumstances in their lives to change, it didn’t mean they were getting left behind.

  Somehow, though, that sentiment wasn’t working for Shelby.

  She threw her notes folder into one of the nearby file cabinets, slammed it shut, and turned the key to lock them away. In that particular moment, she didn’t give a damn about any of her clients nor their problems. The only thing she cared about was getting away from them all—and her feelings.

  It was just after 4 PM when she stepped out of her office without saying a word to Jess or any of her colleague’s clients in the lobby. She had no idea where she’d go when she climbed into her Lexus, but it didn’t matter. As long as it took her somewhere—anywhere—other than the office, that would be enough.

  She tore northeast down Venice Boulevard, ignoring the speed limit signs and risk of a ticket until she reached the light at Overland Avenue and came to a halt. It was far too early in the afternoon for the traffic to have backed up as much as it had.

  Shelby sighed, slammed a fist against the steering wheel, and let out a yelp from the pain of it. She sucked on the edge of her hand, as if that might dull the pain, and noticed a line of cars waiting for gas at the Shell across the street.

  There were a dozen or more, bumper to bumper. What the hell…?

  Shelby’s fingers trembled as she reached to turn on the radio. She’d just tuned to the local news station when the stoplight turned green, and a honk from the car behind her startled her.

  She maneuvered around the cars waiting to get into the Shell and cranked the volume on the radio, but she couldn’t make out the words over the roar of the car’s engine and the pounding of her heart in her ears.

  Each gas station she passed had a similar lineup of cars, and the convenience stores weren’t much better. People hauled cases of water, loaves of bread, and any other non-perishables they could get their hands on out of the stores.

  The last time she’d seen something like this, it’d been during a gas shortage years earlier.

  “This is Adam Smith, thanks for tuning in. We have an update on the situation. Experts working closely with Pacific Energy claim they are investigating an incident at one of their major plants, which may or may not be related to other reported power outages,” the broadcaster said.

  Other reported power outages?

  Shelby took a deep breath, calling back all the training she’d done in mindfulness to try to calm herself down. The corners of her vision blurred in panic, a panic she hadn’t felt in years and one she couldn’t afford to give her power over to now. If she’d had a Xanax handy, she would’ve taken it.

  “At this time, an estimated eight hundred thousand people in and around the Los Angeles area are without power, but Pacific Energy’s representatives assure us they are aware of and working on the issue. They expect power to be restored by midnight tonight, but we will stay up to date on the story as it develops,” the broadcaster continued.

  Shelby didn’t buy it for a second.

  Clearly, neither did most everyone else in town. Why else would they be lining up for gas and water like this if there weren’t any risk of the power not coming back on at the stated time? Did all these people know something she didn’t? And why hadn’t the power gone out at her office?

  Shelby had to get home and fast. Pacific Energy provided the power to their new house, and there was no doubt in Shelby’s mind that her household was one of the ones affected—so much for a quiet evening to herself.

  If the kids were home, and they were sure to be on a Monday, they’d be helpless without power and would undoubtedly create trouble for themselves. Hopefully, they hadn’t gotten any bright ideas yet.

  Shelby worked her way through the traffic as fast and safely as she could until finally she reached Duquesne Avenue. Sure enough, every house she passed on the street was dark. Thankfully, when she parked in their driveway, Nate’s clunker 1990 Honda Civic was in its usual spot—above the giant splotch of oil it had continually leaked on the concrete.

  Inside, the house was so dark Shelby could barely see her hands in front of her, and there weren’t any sounds to suggest either of her kids were home.

  “Nate? Cass?” Shelby called, her voice echoing throughout the still undecorated house. “Are you here?”

  “We’re out on the porch, Mom,” Nate answered, and Shelby’s chest deflated.

  Thank God. The
y were home, and they were safe. Guilt swept over Shelby as she toed through the house, dodging sharp edges at every turn. What if something had happened to them while she’d been out on her planned escape from reality? She never would’ve been able to forgive herself.

  And what about Joel? Would this affect his ability to get home?

  “What are you doing?” Shelby asked and without waiting, threw her arms around Nate, who happened to be sitting in the chair on the porch closest to the back door. His glasses smashed into her stomach, and he pushed away from her by her hips, but Shelby didn’t care.

  Though he reeked of cigarette smoke and she knew he’d only just managed to put out the butt before she’d accosted him, she didn’t dare punish him. Not now.

  “What are you doing, Mom? Jesus,” Nate said, finally working himself free of her grip.

  “Yeah, seriously, what the hell, Mom?” Cass asked as she shoved off the wall she’d been leaning against, her phone in hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  “I was worried about you. I heard about the outages on the radio so I came home as fast as I could get here,” she lied. Neither of them needed to know the real reason she’d come home from work early.

  “Have you heard from your father?” she asked, though she couldn’t believe she cared after the way Joel had treated her that morning.

  “No. I sent him a text, but it hasn’t been delivered yet, so he’s probably still up in the air,” Nate said. “That or his phone got fried in the terrorist attack,” he continued, and Cass snickered.

  “That’s not funny. Don’t say that,” Shelby snapped.