by T. L. Payne
Chapter 1
Chicago O’Hare International Airport
Chicago, Illinois
Day of Event
Terminal Three of Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport was filled with pissed off passengers. After a four-hour delay, Maddison Langston was feeling cranky herself. Her flight from San Diego had arrived at eleven that morning. At three that afternoon, her connecting flight was still not boarding, even though the plane sat at the gate.
When the lights in the terminal cut out and the flight departure screen went blank, Maddie sighed.
Looks like my flight will be delayed. Again.
Sitting in the dim light, Maddie pulled her cell phone from the Silent Pocket faraday backpack Uncle Ryan had given her. Although she had promised him she would keep her phone in the bag while she was in the airport, she was having social media withdrawal. She was not as concerned about a thief scanning her RFID chips as he was.
She pulled the charging cord from the pack and started to plug it into an outlet before realizing that it would not charge with the power off. Maddie tapped a social media app on her phone, but it would not load. Her phone did not have a signal. After shutting it down and restarting it half a dozen times, it still wouldn’t connect to her wireless service provider.
To pass the time, she listened to songs from her music library. She usually listened to her favorite music using streaming services. Luckily, she had a few games on her phone.
Maddie looked up to see an angry man in a sport coat and trousers with one knee on the American Airlines service counter. The terrified woman behind the desk had her back pressed against the wall as far from the out-of-control passenger as possible.
Maddie pulled the earbuds from her ears.
Two men had gripped the arms of the angry man, who was yelling obscenities at the woman, as the woman yelled for security.
“Why can’t you tell us what the hell is going on? My flight was supposed to leave three hours ago. Now the lights are out, and it is freaking hot as hell in here,” another passenger yelled at the petite woman.
“I do not have anything to tell you. I am in the dark too,” she said.
“Oh, is that your attempt to lighten the mood? Destress the situation? Did they teach you that in customer service school?” the man mocked.
“My cell phone isn’t working. I need to use a phone. I have to call my husband. He’ll be expecting us to arrive in Nashville any minute,” a woman called out.
A tall man in a sports jersey and jeans stepped forward. He towered over the other passengers. Holding an arm up, the man said, “Listen up, folks. All this yelling and getting aggressive with customer service is not going to get us answers that the woman clearly does not have.”
“Well, someone sure as hell better start explaining pretty damn fast,” the man in the sport coat barked, shaking his arms lose from his captors.
“Look around you. It is a chaotic mess in here. It is not just American Airlines flights that are delayed. No planes have taken off or landed here in over an hour. The power is out to the airport, and something has disrupted the phones, including cell phones.”
An explosion rattled the windows. The ear-piercing sound of metal on concrete was followed by the cockpit of a jet skidding down the runway. Maddie had not considered that planes might collide mid-air without access to tower control for guidance. People hurried from the shopping area of the terminal, dragging their wheeled bags behind them. They huddled near the window, staring at the burning wreckage of the plane on the tarmac.
Maddie rose slowly to her feet. Grabbing her backpack from its position beside her, she flipped it over her shoulder, and reached for the extended handle on her suitcase. The terminal was in darkness, dimly lit only from the windows where a surreal show of flames and black smoke was casting long shadows toward the center of the concourse.
As Maddie stared out the window with her mouth open wide at the flaming, smoking, twisted mass, a second Boeing 737 dropped from the sky in pieces, scattering onto the runway and bursting into flames. The lights were out and there was no cell service, and planes were also colliding in the sky above them.
Maddie came to a startling realization. It had happened. The EMP or electromagnetic pulse her dad and Uncle Ryan talked about had really happened. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. Maddie’s feet would not move, even though her brain said run.
She could not catch her breath. While her fellow travelers stood with eyes peeled to the horrid sight and their mouths wide in shock and terror, Maddie ran.
Her bag’s wheels skipped off the floor of the concourse as Maddie bolted toward a family restroom. Her backpack smacked the wall as she spun around to turn the lock. Maddie dropped her pack and suitcase by the door and slid to the cold tile floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she sobbed, rocking side to side. Mixed with the crushing fear was a pang of guilt. She had mocked her dad for his paranoia. A wave of grief threatened to crash over her without mercy. As she cried, the years of repressed grief burst to the surface as she recalled the training and warnings her father had tried to communicate to her throughout the years.
Maddie had not cried this much since the accident. The day her dad died. The day her world changed forever.
As the tears flowed in torrents, Maddie rested her head on her arms. She was startled by loud banging behind her. She jumped to her feet and spun to face the door, her heart pounding against her chest. In the blackness she could not see her hand in front of her face. Maddie pulled her phone from her back pocket and activated its flashlight feature. Holding it over her head, she turned and looked around the small room.
I cannot stay in here forever.
How long before a plane came crashing through the terminal? How many were up there circling the airport? How many had diverted from their flight paths to land after they lost their navigation system and contact to the control tower? Pilots would only have line-of-sight to avoid a mid-air collision. How soon would it be before they ran out of fuel? Maddie's thoughts raced.
She had to get some place safe right now. That was what her dad always told her. The longer she hesitated, the more dangerous it would be.
Maddie stood and blew her nose. She bent over to reach for her pack.
She froze.
Maddie's heart dropped. She was stranded in one of the country’s busiest airports in the middle of one of the most populated cities. And she had never felt more alone.
Maddie turned and put her back to the door. She slid once more to the floor, curling her arms over her head.
Dad was right.
Her friends had called her father, Greg Langston, a doomsday prepper—a title that brought Maddie embarrassment. Before he died, her father had taught her and her brother, Zach, survival skills and how to prepare for disasters. She never took it as seriously as she should have.
“What do I do, Daddy, what do I do?” she cried.
Her mind raced, searching for answers. Images of her rolling her eyes as her dad lectured and instructed her and Zach on what to do in a world-ending scenario brought a new round of guilt and shame.
“You were right, Daddy. I am so sorry I mocked you. I didn’t listen to you, and now the shit has hit the fan, and I do not know what to do.”
She slumped to the floor and curled into a fetal position. Time seemed to stand still in the tiny, cold room. She stared at the shadow cast by her cell phone. Her mind went blank. She slid into a familiar numbness. Sleep had been her comfort, her only solace in the days and weeks after her dad had died. S
he wanted to go there. She let her breathing slow.
She was shaken back to reality by the sound of the growing chaos outside the bathroom.
Maddie heard her dad’s voice in her head.
“Maddison Grace Langston, pay attention. Someday you might find yourself alone when the shit hits the fan and you will need to know how to survive and get home.”
She sat up, brushing loose strands of hair from her face.
The get-home bag her dad had given her containing all the essentials to survive on the road was in her dorm room in Ohio. It would do her no good now. But she had the Every Day Carry items with her. Uncle Ryan had picked up where her dad left off in making sure carrying her EDC was a habit. Maddie looked down at the plain, waterproof backpack on the floor next to her. There were times in the last few years she had resented Ryan for trying to take her dad’s place. At that moment, she was grateful he had.
Maddie rose to her feet and walked over to the sink. She looked in the mirror. Mascara streaked her face. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot. She ran her hand through her long blond hair, pulling it into a messy bun on top of her head and securing it with the hair tie from her wrist. She stared at herself in the mirror.
“You’ve got this, Maddie. You can do it.”
She pointed to the mirror with her index finger.
You have to.
Unzipping her carry-on bag, Maddie was relieved that she had brought her hydration pack on the trip. Knowing she would need to run every day to maintain her current level of endurance, she had thrown it in her bag. Pulling the vest pack from her suitcase and emptying all the pockets and pouches, she quickly inventoried its contents. With the Jelly Belly Sports beans, sports gels, and energy bars, she had about ten thousand calories with her. Her hydration bladder and water flasks held at least two liters of water. She added the weight up in her head. She would be carrying around ten pounds.
When running a marathon or endurance race, she didn’t take the hydration bladder or as many energy gels. There was an aid station along the route, and her crew would take position between stations in case she needed a quick pick-me-up. Maddie had carried that much weight when she did backcountry and trail runs, so she knew she could.
In a Ziploc bag were two headlamps, extra batteries, a compass, and a multifunction mini tool—all requirements from her last race. From her everyday carry pack, she removed the emergency bivvy bag, her Sawyer MINI water filter, and a LifeStraw personal water filter. Maddie shoved them into kangaroo pouch of her vest pack, along with a Ziploc bag of socks and thermals. The last thing in was a weatherproof jacket.
Maddie undressed and pulled on her running tights. After putting on a tank top, she put on a fresh pair of socks and slid on her running shoes. She wished she had not chosen to bring the red ones. They would stand out too much, but there was nothing she could do about that now.
Gathering up the water flasks and bladder, Maddie filled them in the sink. She pushed the bladder into the pouch and placed it in the hydration vest pack.
Placing her arms through the arm holes of the vest, she adjusted the straps across her chest. Her runner’s pack was a vest-style. It wrapped around her, fitting snuggly against her body. She tugged on the cords. It felt snug and secure. After placing the soft flask in the front pockets, she strapped one squeeze flask to her wrist. Lastly, she pulled on her dad's Marine Corps Marathon headband, and adjusted it to cover her ears.
She looked down at the half empty suitcase. Her clothes lay strewn about the floor. She picked them up and threw them into the bag. Maddie did not consider herself overly materialistic, but her suitcase contained some of her favorite clothes. It pained her to just leave them there.
This is crazy. How am I going to run all the way to St. Louis?
From her Silent Pocket faraday backpack, Maddie retrieved her earbuds, car keys, and a pack of gum. As she placed them in the right side pocket, her hands shook so badly that she dropped her car keys on the floor. She was alone in Chicago and the end of civilization as she knew it had occurred—just as her dad had predicted. She was scared shitless and was not afraid to admit it. Maddie shook her head, attempting to fight back the tears that threatened to spill down her face.
Harden up, Maddie.
No one was coming to save her. If she were going to make it, she would have to protect herself. She could not afford to let self-doubt and indecision keep her prisoner in the airport.
St. Louis was about three hundred miles away. The previous week, she had run the New Hampshire 100-mile endurance race in twenty-six hours. So, with needing recovery time between runs, it would take at least a week or more to get home.
How long will it take if I have to avoid dangerous people?
She wanted nothing more than to sit back down on the cold tile floor, curl into a ball, and stay there until her mom came to her rescue.
Mom is not coming, Maddie. Mom is stranded in California.
She had gone with her mother to San Diego. They had brought her grandmother home from the hospital. Her mother wanted Grand to enjoy her last days at home in her own bed surrounded by the things she loved, including her one-eyed dog, Jack. The sudden realization that her mom might not be able to make it back home to Missouri shook her to her core. She had been so focused on herself that she had not even thought about where her mom and brother were. When she had last received a text message from Zach, he had been coming back from his school field trip to Washington, D.C.
Maddie placed her hands over her face and rubbed her forehead.
Where did he say they had stopped?
Maddie retrieved her cell phone from the floor beside her suitcase, opened her messages app, and clicked on the last message from Zach. He had been in Marshall, Illinois right before the lights went out.
Maybe the lights aren't out there?
Although she was unsure where Marshall, Illinois was, she doubted it was anywhere near Chicago. His bus had been heading southwest back to St. Louis.
He will be all right. There were six teachers on the trip. They’ll get him home.
She checked for cell service one last time before putting her phone in the front pouch of her vest. The light from the phone shined through the mesh fabric. She patted her pockets, adjusted her straps and pulled the cords tight.
Time to get going.
Maddie slowly unlocked and cracked opened the door. The scene out in the corridor was even more chaotic than before. She could hear raised voices and crying.
How long was I in there?
She checked her watch. It was four o’clock. She had at least two hours before it would be dark. Walking down the terminal toward the main hall, she could see that most of the activity centered on the restaurant area of the concourse. People were fighting over what was left of the food.
She needed a map. She had seen a place that sold books and newspapers when she had gotten coffee earlier.
They should have maps. There are tourists here, right?
Maddie raced around a corner and saw a floor to ceiling mural of the city of Chicago. It would not replace a paper map that she could take with her, but it would give her a direction to head out in at least. Not knowing the scale of the map, she made a fist and stuck up her thumb, using it as a ruler to calculate distance.
“Which way are you heading?” the man asked.
A male voice startled her, causing her to jump. She twirled around to find a man in his mid-thirties. Beside the man stood a woman, maybe a little younger than him, and a girl of about ten years old.
“Um—I — south,” Maddie stammered.
She chastised herself. She had just given out critical information to a stranger. She could hear her father scold her.
OPSEC, Maddie, her dad would say.
Operational security means keeping your big trap shut about what you have and where you plan to go. She was sucking at this already. She looked down at her feet.
“Your dad serve?” the man asked, pointing to Maddie’s Marine Corps buff.
“He did. Did you?” she asked, pointing to the U.S. Army National Guard Minute Man logo on his hat.
“I did.”
“Two tours in Iraq and four in Afghanistan,” the woman added.
“Yeah, my dad spent a lot of time in those places too.”
“Is he with you?” the man asked.
Maddie looked away and swallowed hard, resolved to fight back the tears. She would give anything to have her dad with her right now.
“I’m Rob Andrews, by the way, and this is my wife April and our daughter Emma.”
Emma gave a timid wave as April stepped forward and extended her hand. Maddie shook it and said, “I’m Maddie Langston.”
“Look, it is getting bad in here. It’s going to get worse in the city very soon. We're not going to wait around for the lights to come back on. We’re getting out of here, and it looks like you have the same idea,” Rob said.
“Um—yeah, I mean, I was thinking about it. With the airplanes crashing, I was trying to decide how to leave to avoid the runways. I need to head toward Interstate 55, but that is southwest, and it looks like most of the runways are in that direction.”
“You could go due south and then cut over, say, around here.” Rob pointed to 143rd Street on the map mural.
“I wish I had a map to take with me, in case I have to adjust course quickly.”
“I have a map. We are heading south too. We live about fifty miles from here. You are welcome to join us until you need to head west.”
“I don’t know if I should.”
“You shouldn’t be out on the streets alone. It’s not safe on a regular day, but now with the power being out…”
Maddie was leery of leaving the airport with strangers, but he was right. It wasn’t safe to go alone. Safety in numbers, as her dad would say.
She looked the man over. He had been in the military like her dad. He had his wife and daughter with him.
It should be all right, right?
“Okay. When do you want to leave?”
Chapter 2