Survival EMP Box Set | Books 1-4

by Lopez, Rob

  “Right.”

  “We want to make sure we get off on the right footing. We also want to make sure we have something left to preserve. The environmental committee on the senate is concerned with the amount of hunting being done in the mountains. We’re destroying precious biodiversity out there. I’ll be passing new National Parks legislation to limit the hunting and require everyone to carry permits. The crops we grow this year, and the fish we now get from Lake James, should ease the transition from a hunter gatherer lifestyle. I think it’s time to crack down on such macho pursuits.”

  “I agree,” said Connors. “It’ll make it easier to root out the outlaws if we don’t have a bunch of hunters getting in the way.”

  “I notice you have a steam locomotive running, and you’ll be bringing in coal shipments.”

  “That’s right.”

  “The environmental committee is a little concerned about that too. This is a chance to start over, and we don’t really want to go back to our polluting ways. A limit to the amount of coal that can be sold will also be implemented. We’re talking to an engineer about how we can harness the power of water and wind to create clean energy.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Is the steam locomotive really necessary?”

  “As soon as you can create an environmentally friendly alternative, I’ll be happy to use it, but in the meantime, we need the train.”

  Jeffries frowned. “It could take a while. Well, as long as we keep our carbon footprint low in other areas, we should be able to limit the damage. Like I said, I want the reconstruction to start as it means to go on. Environmental awareness is so important now that we rely on nature to keep us alive.”

  “Anything else you want to discuss?”

  “No, that’s everything. I’ll get the Draft Bill presented to the senate. I don’t see any problems getting it through. Actually, there is one more thing. It’s something of a delicate matter.”

  “Yes?”

  “I received a report of a rumor that, uh, you might be engaged in some kind of activities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, it’s not entirely clear, but someone mentioned drugs.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I hesitate to mention it, but, like I said, I had a report.”

  “Really? And was there any evidence in this report?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  Connors made a show of being annoyed. “After everything I’ve done, and the sacrifices I’ve had to make, it’s really not okay to have to contend with old rumors that were quashed in army hearings in the past. I don’t see why they should resurface now. This is an insult.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t believe them myself, but I felt it was my duty to let you know.”

  “This is the kind of crap that destroys morale. If I can’t command the trust of my troops, and of the senate, then I might as well resign now.”

  Jeffries sat up in his chair, alarmed. “Don’t do that.”

  “If a man’s reputation can be destroyed on mere hearsay, with zero evidence, then we can forget about justice or civilization. It’s just mob rule.”

  “Please, I’m not accusing you. And I agree. Without due process, there is no law, and everything will collapse. You have my full support in this, and I’ll see to it that it goes no further.”

  “I don’t need this, Jeffries. I’m busting my balls out there.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful. Please, forget I ever mentioned this.”

  “And who made this allegation?”

  “I’m bound by confidentiality to keep this anonymous.”

  “I have the right to know my accuser.”

  “There’s no formal accusation, okay? Relax. This issue is over. I’m not about to be swayed by street talk. We have a serious job to do, and I need you to keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be talking to the senate and recommending that we award you with an official commendation for all your efforts. Frankly, we wouldn’t be here without you. I think a little gratitude is in order, and possibly another promotion too, with commensurate benefits. There, I can’t say fairer than that. Are we good with this?”

  Connors acted peeved. “Having this kind of stuff said behind my back doesn’t inspire confidence in me.”

  “Trust me,” urged Jeffries. “I’ve got your back. I understand this is a sensitive issue for you, though I’ll confess I didn’t realize you’d be this sensitive about it. But I hear you now, and it’s done. Just leave it with me.”

  “Okay,” said Connors reluctantly. “I’d better get back now.”

  “Sure. Thanks for dropping by.”

  Connors walked stiffly to the door. When he shut it behind him, however, he loosened up and smiled to himself. Outside the building, Taft waited for him, holding the reins of their horses.

  “Well?” asked Taft.

  “We got what we wanted,” said Connors, slipping on his riding gloves. “A little more, in fact. They’re planning to ration the coal. We’ll get Fat Danny to sell some on the black market for us. Demand is guaranteed.”

  “You sure you want Danny to handle that as well? He’s already running the whorehouse and the meth lab. Don’t think it’s a good idea to put too many eggs in that basket.”

  “I think it’s a very good idea, actually. Means we only need to pay off one guy. There is one other thing that came up, though. Someone talked to the governor about the drugs. Find out who it was.”

  “And?”

  “Bury them. I don’t want to hear about the issue again.”

  17

  J-Class 611 steamed majestically through the Swannanoa Gap, pistons pumping and chains rattling. The engineer, Jane, had taken her through once already, bringing back the first coal carriages from Round Knob. Now she was running light again, with just the tender. The fireman shoveled coal into the furnace, and Jane leaned out of the cab, wind in her hair and greasy smoke in her face. It felt good taking the old girl through her paces and, as she’d promised to Connors, the locomotive ran like clockwork. It was just too good not to. The track ran high along the side of the wooded valley, the ground falling away on one side to the creek down below. Jane switched to the other side of the cab as the track curved to follow the contour of the valley, the locomotive picking up a little speed on a downslope before it began its climb to the tunnel. Dangling branches flashed close by her head as she checked the track was clear, and she pulled her head in quickly as one such branch splintered on the cab superstructure.

  “Gonna clean take your head off, one day,” remarked the fireman, latching the furnace door.

  Jane laughed. “That’s what my pa used to say,” she said.

  “Trees have had too much chance to grow with nothing coming through here. If you don’t lose your head, you might lose your eye.”

  “We’ll soon get them cut down again,” said Jane, peering through the smaller cabin port at the front.

  Looking to see the tunnel, so she’d know when to open the throttle for the climb, she failed to notice anything wrong with the track until it was too late.

  Several rails had been detached from the sleepers, the dog spikes lifted and scattered in the ballast. The rails on one side lay askew, and Jane shut the throttle and hit the brakes, the brake shoes grinding against the drive wheels and the wheels squealing as they slid along the track.

  It wasn’t enough. When they ran out of rail, 611 lurched and hit the sleepers, bumping hard and keeling over.

  “Jump,” shouted Jane, feeling the locomotive go.

  The fireman needed no further encouragement, and was right behind her when she jumped.

  Slipping off the mossy end of the sleepers, 611’s right wheels sank into the ballast, scattering gravel, but she was still leaning, and her momentum carried her on, while gravity pulled her down. Fighting her fate, the grand old lady dug in deeper, and for a moment it looked like she might stick herself in the soil and go no farther, but the weight of the boiler hung over the air above the cr
eek, and neither the soil nor the ballast had the strength to hold that. Slowly the locomotive tipped right over and hit the slope hard, snapping trees like twigs as she went down on her side. Steam billowed out as the wall of debris built up in front of the sliding behemoth, and coal from the tender was catapulted into the creek when the locomotive finally came to a halt.

  Jane watched the pall of smoke rise from the valley as she lay by the track, her leg broken, and she cried.

  *

  Saul Wilhelm was a bore. It was what made him good at his job.

  Trained as an engineer, he was meticulous in his attention to detail. He took his work seriously and worked hard to master whatever he turned his hand to. Unfortunately, he took everything in life seriously, and people thought he had no sense of humor. No one had ever seen him laugh. If greeted and asked how he was, he would literally tell people how he was, right down to the last detail.

  People who knew him well enough opted simply to wave. It was less time consuming.

  He preferred machines to people, and when Black Mountain needed someone to singlehandedly run the plant at the North Fork dam that abutted the reservoir of Lake Burnett, he overwhelmingly won the vote, in spite of not having put himself forward. It turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  Saul had never been to a filtration plant in his life, and had only completed a single module in hydraulic engineering for his degree, but machinery was machinery. He moved into accommodation on the site and devoted his time to figuring it all out, step by step. Many of the processes had been automated, and when the power died and the backup generator also failed, the system shut down. Saul couldn’t do anything about the power, but he studied the system, from the intake tower to the outflow pipes, and used the manual controls to keep the water flowing. He spent two weeks working on the backup generator and finally got that working too, bringing the auxiliary pumps on line. The water treatment was a different matter, as that required a knowledge of chemistry. There were ample supplies of chlorine, alum, phosphate and fluoride at the plant, but Saul didn’t know in what proportions to add them to the mixing tanks, so the water went out untreated for the most part, though the Burnett reservoir provided some of the cleanest water in the state. Still, Saul spent many a night studying the manuals and texts at the plant, especially the books in the lab, with the aim of getting this last detail right, even though nobody asked him for it. It was a labor of love, and the various complexities absorbed him. He wasn’t one to admire the view across the lake, even when it was calm enough to reflect the mountains in the background or the birds flying overhead. For him, true beauty lay in man-made systems and how they’d been put together.

  The students from the college who’d been armed as militia in the past and sent to guard the dam thought he was a little creepy, and kept their distance once they discovered the paucity of his social skills. This suited him fine. They occupied the redundant offices, and Saul lived with the machinery.

  The arrival of the Asheville militia and the detaining of the students was a minor interruption, and he was allowed by the new authorities to continue his work. The new militia, however, housed themselves in the main plant buildings and kept a close watch on Saul, fearful that he would poison the water if he had a chance. Nothing could be further from Saul’s mind, but they wouldn’t leave him be. As a result, he spent a lot more time outside, especially at the intake tower.

  One evening, as it was getting dark, he left the intake tower and walked the footbridge to the dam. It was Friday, and he knew most of the guards would be inside, playing cards and gambling what little they had. Stuck here with him for days on end, the boredom was getting to them as, unlike him, they had nothing to do.

  Well, they were supposed to mount patrols around the reservoir, but most of them were homesick and their hearts weren’t in it. With no conceivable threat, and away from their commanding officer — whom Saul had never seen — they goofed off, messed around or slept. Friday was game night, so only one guard would be outside, except he too would find himself a quiet spot to nap, usually in the pump house.

  Saul tramped the boards of the girder bridge, thinking about which book in the lab he’d tackle for his evening read, when movement caught his eye.

  A fleeting figure appeared in the woods by the plant, then disappeared. Saul squinted, wondering if the low light was playing tricks with his eyes. One morning during the winter he could swear he’d seen a bobcat walking around the buildings, but he couldn’t be sure whether it was just a domestic cat. Now he had the same feeling again, as he caught glimpses of stealthy movement.

  Whatever was moving was too big even for a bobcat, however, and there seemed to be more than one. In fact, there was a lot, and he knew bobcats never moved in packs.

  And he didn’t think there were wolves in these parts.

  Something flitted between two buildings, and Saul saw it was a man. One minute he was there, the next he wasn’t.

  Curious, Saul continued to watch, thinking maybe the commander had sneaked up to check on his troops.

  The sight of a couple more armed men running around a corner made him think that the commander had brought some friends. Perhaps it was some kind of exercise.

  The appearance of an armed man at the end of the bridge, his face blacked out and his rifle pointing at Saul, quickly dispelled that delusion.

  “Hands up and get over here,” hoarsely whispered the rifleman.

  Saul wasn’t armed, so he complied. More armed men scooted through the compound. When Saul reached the end of the bridge, the gunman ordered him to turn around and put his arms behind his back. Again, Saul complied, and his wrists were locked together with a zip tie.

  It was very reminiscent of the last time the plant was attacked, and Saul felt calm, if a little inconvenienced. The gunman took his arm and gently steered him to the treatment building where the large chemical tanks stood floor to ceiling. When he got there, he saw the guards lying face down on the bare concrete floor, their hands clasped behind their heads. A ring of gunmen surrounded them, rifles pointed. The table where the guards had been playing cards had been tipped over, dollar bills spilled on the floor. One of the gunmen was a boy, and he collected up the guards’ rifles.

  The door opened again, and the guard who’d been napping in the pump house was pushed through at gunpoint, his face a picture of terror. Ordered to lie down with his comrades, he dropped down to his knees and begged for his life, thinking he was about to be executed. The faces of the gunmen certainly looked uncompromising.

  None looked more serious, however, than the leader, who was dressed like a real soldier, complete with armor and battle rifle.

  “You’re the engineer,” the leader said unequivocally to Saul.

  “I’m the engineer,” parroted Saul. It didn’t occur to him to ask how the stranger knew.

  “Cut him loose,” said the leader.

  Saul’s bonds were snipped off.

  “I want you to show me the outflow pipes,” the leader said.

  So far, this seemed reasonable to Saul. With the leader and some of the others, he led them on a tour.

  “Does this pipe feed Black Mountain?” asked the leader, pointing to one of a cluster.

  “No, that’s Pipe 7. Pipe 2 over there serves Black Mountain.”

  “And the others feed Asheville?”

  “No. Pipe 4 feeds into the line from Beetree, then goes on to Asheville, Weaverville and Hendersonville. Pipe 1 links Fairview, Gerton and Goodluck, then connects to the line from Mill River, feeding lower Asheville. Pipe 3 …”

  “Enough,” said the leader. He turned to one of the men behind him. “Leave the pipe that goes to Black Mountain. Blow the rest.”

  They hurried past with packages that reeked of sulfur.

  “What do you mean, blow the rest?” said Saul.

  “Exactly that,” said the leader. “Shut down all the pipes except for No. 2.”

  Saul was put out. “I put a lot of work into getting
those pipes flowing,” he said.

  “I know,” said the leader.

  Again, Saul never thought to ask how he knew.

  “People need that water,” he said.

  “The pipes are going to be blown,” explained the leader patiently. “If you don’t shut them down, the reservoir will leak its contents down into the valley. I don’t care either way, but I think you’ll want to shut them down.”

  That made perfect sense to Saul, and he went into the pump house, grabbed a wrench, and proceeded to lock down the required pipes. When he was done, he was escorted back to the treatment building and given a chair to sit down on.

  The leader addressed the prostrate guards.

  “I’m going to ask you where you’ve come from. If you answer me, no harm will come to you. But you will answer me. Where are you from?”

  “Asheville,” said one, glancing nervously up.

  “Fairview,” said another.

  “Acton.”

  “Asheville.”

  “Asheville, please don’t kill us, please.”

  “Asheville, shut up, Carl.”

  “Now listen carefully,” said the leader. “My name is Rick Nolan. I want you to remember that name. Your homes are under occupation. You need to get back to them. You’re being led by a dictator. You don’t know what’s happening to your families or your friends. I suggest you find out. Today, I’m going to let you go, so that you can get back. If you don’t go, and if you come against us bearing arms, we’ll shoot you. You’re on the wrong side in this war. Go home.”

  Outside, there was a chain of explosions that sent shock waves through the floor. The leader nodded to the gunmen and boy, and they all filed out, walking backwards and keeping their weapons trained on the hapless guards. When the last one left, he shut the door.

  For a while, nobody dared move. Then they all began speaking at once, first blaming each other for being caught like they were, then speculating on the leader’s name, and whether anyone had heard of him. They speculated or dismissed the warnings about what was happening back home, then began to worry about who might be the friends or allies of these gunmen? If they didn’t know, how could they avoid retribution for attacking them? And who was the kid?