Everywhere he looked, people were rushing around, going in a dozen different directions. Many of the women were crying, and almost everyone had a look of panic on their faces.
It struck Zach as odd, that he alone among all these people, was calm and walking leisurely. Then it struck him that he was the only one among them who knew exactly what was going on. And more importantly, he was the only one who knew his destination. Everyone else was unsure where to go, what to do, how to protect themselves.
Only he, Zachary Harter, a fourteen year old average kid, had his act together this particular morning.
It gave him a sense of empowerment and a feeling of great strength.
And as he walked down the center of Interstate 35, though the heart of San Antonio, he was a boy without fear. At this moment, he felt like he was king of the world.
He had no idea what time it was. Joyce had given him an old fashioned watch months before. It had to be wound by hand every couple of days, but it kept good time.
Today, of all days, it was at home, sitting on the night table where he’d forgotten it.
He knew it was almost ten thirty when the power went out. Algebra was his last class before lunch, and he seldom got through the class without his stomach starting to growl.
And now, two hours into his walk, the adrenaline started to wear off and his legs started to tire, and he started to feel hunger pangs.
The feeling of invincibility was replaced by a feeling of fatigue, and a desire to sit down and have some food. There’s a fine line between being a hero and wanting a hero sandwich, he decided.
He started looking for a vehicle that was unlocked and would offer him refuge.
The freeway was almost deserted now. Of people, at least. There were still cars pretty much everywhere, spaced four to six car lengths apart when their engines all sputtered and died.
Some were locked, some weren’t.
He selected a Ford F-150 pickup. It was high off the ground, and he reasoned it would be harder for people to see him there.
The windows on this truck were very heavily tinted too, and that was a plus.
He crawled inside, depressed both door locks, and laid across the seat to rest.
-31-
Joyce had her bike assembled in no time at all. Ten minutes after running from her office at a full sprint, she was on her bike, riding through residential streets, on her way to the Interstate 10 connector.
Several panicked people tried to flag her down to ask her for help. Or maybe their plans were more sinister. In any event, she ignored them and biked on past.
It wasn’t that she didn’t feel for them. They each had their own personal crisis they there dealing with. She knew that. But she couldn’t waste time helping other people solve their problems when she had problems of her own.
She knew that Scott had no plans to get out today because of his back. That meant he was still at the compound, seventy miles from his house. And she knew that he’d have to drag one of the all wheel drive Gators out of the Faraday barn and prep it before he could set out to meet up with them. And on a Gator, it would take awhile to get down that mountain.
So as much sympathy as she felt for the people around her, she would not, could not, stop to help them. She had her own problems to deal with. It was up to her and Linda to find and protect the boys until Scott arrived.
After she rounded the last corner before Interstate 10, Joyce came across a uniformed policeman standing in the road. Immediately upon seeing her approaching, he held up his hand for her to stop.
She sped up. He held out both hands and shouted, “Stop! Police!”
Joyce knew what he wanted. If she had stopped, he would have commandeered her bicycle. He’d have said it was emergency police business. And then she’d be afoot, and it would take her hours longer to get to her destination.
So Joyce did something she’d never have dreamed of doing under any other circumstances. She disobeyed an officer of the law and sped right past him. To hell with him. She had her own emergency. And hers was more important.
At least to her it was.
An hour into her ride, Joyce needed a break. She found that although riding a bicycle is something you never forget how to do, having the stamina and wind to ride it for long distances was something that got harder with age.
She remembered riding her bike in her youth, and how she could go for hours without being winded.
Obviously those days were gone forever. After an hour her legs ached and burned, and her lungs fought for every breath.
She was back off the highway now and on surface streets. She looked around her and didn’t see anyone close enough to be a threat, so she stopped to catch her breath.
By car, she was only half an hour from Scott’s house. By bicycle it was a different story completely.
She estimated that she was still a good three hours away now. And that’s if she rode straight through. But the sun was high in the sky now, and she was very quickly becoming exhausted. As much as she hated to admit it, riding straight through probably wasn’t going to happen.
Joyce looked at her watch for the tenth time. She was the one who had the forethought to go on the internet the previous spring and to purchase everyone windup watches.
Jordan thought she was joking. “How can a watch run without a battery?”
“Easy. It has a spring inside of it. You wind the spring and it runs for a couple of days. Then you wind it again. As long as you remember to wind it every couple of days it’ll keep good time.”
Jordan was still skeptical. But Joyce was able to find such watches on the internet, and let each of the boys choose the ones they wanted.
She paid a premium price for them, but they were accurate and not subject to damage from solar flares. Scott’s lost about a minute a day, but Joyce joked that it didn’t matter, because he was always behind everybody else anyway.
It was now almost twelve. She was adjacent to a large park, with a huge stand of trees. She figured this was as good a place as any to hide the bike, take a break, and try out her walkie talkie.
She took the small Faraday box out of her backpack and opened it. She smiled when she saw that Scott had placed a small box of candy hearts in the box along with the walkie and two sets of batteries. Scott had a rough exterior, but he had a romantic side too. And he always knew just the thing to make her smile.
Even in the worst of circumstances.
“Scott, are you there?”
She knew he wouldn’t be, unless he’d made an unscheduled trip into town for some reason. And she knew that was very unlikely, because he was a meticulous planner who seldom did anything on the spur of the moment.
No, it was much more likely that he was at that very moment on the Gator, making a bee-line to San Antonio to meet everyone at his house.
The trouble was, there was seventy miles between the two locations, and Gators didn’t move very fast.
They had tested the radios when they first got them. Even though the owner’s manual claimed an effective range of “up to twenty miles,” that was under ideal conditions.
In reality, the “real world” range was more like twelve miles.
Joyce didn’t expect to be able to raise Scott for at least a couple more hours. But she gave it a shot anyway.
She tried again.
“Scott, this is Joyce. Come in.”
No answer. So she tried someone else.
“Linda, this is Joyce. Come in.”
“This is Linda. Go ahead, Joyce.”
At last. A friendly voice.
“Linda, where are you?”
“I’m sitting in a storm drain under Highway 281. Taking a break and getting a much needed drink. How about you?”
“I’m at a park about a third of the way between work and Scott’s house. I’m not sure I’ll make it there by nightfall, but I’m going to give it my best shot. Have you talked to the boys?”
“No, I’ve been trying every little while. They w
ere instructed not to use their radios unless they were in a safe place. I hope they call soon.”
The radio began to crackle, and a new voice came on.
“Mom, it’s me, Zach.”
“Zachary! My baby! Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. But my legs aren’t used to walking this much.”
“Where are you, honey?”
“I’m sitting in a big pickup on Loop 410. I don’t know where exactly, I forgot the name of the last exit. I’m eating my lunch, and I just now turned on the radio and you guys were there.”
“So you haven’t heard from Jordan either?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Zachary, you’ve got to be strong and brave, okay?”
“Sure, Mom. I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“I know that, honey. But I also know you’re tired, and it is important that you make it to the house before dark. You are the closest one to the house right now. And even though you don’t have a bicycle, you should still beat everybody else. You just have to be tough and push yourself. Okay?”
Linda couldn’t see him roll his eyes.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll be fine. Have you heard from Dad?”
“Not yet, honey. But he has a long way to come before he’ll be within radio range. Honey, do you remember what to do when you get to the house.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He knew the drill. They had talked about it a hundred times before.
“I go into Dad’s office and look in the drawer where he keeps his files. In the very back there’s a red folder with my name on it. Inside the folder are very specific instructions on what to do while I’m waiting on everybody else. I really hate pop quizzes, Mom. How did I do?”
Linda laughed.
“You did great, honey.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, honey. What’s on your mind?”
“While I was walking, I was thinking about some of my friends. In school and on the block. What do you think will happen to them after we’re gone?”
She swallowed hard.
“Well, honey, I just don’t know. I mean, I know they will survive. But they will have it a lot harder than we will because they haven’t prepared the way we have.”
“But they won’t die or anything?”
“No, sir. They won’t die just because the power went out.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, son. Now finish eating and get back on your way, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
She didn’t have to worry about this little trooper. He was holding up well.
The three got off their radios and got back on the road.
-32-
Scott was scrambling. Thanks to his laziness, he was already an hour behind schedule, and he was cursing himself every step of the way.
Once he rolled out of bed and discovered the power was off, he checked his phone. It was dead. He picked up the flashlight on his night table. Dead.
He fairly flew out to the Ford Explorer parked out in front of the house. Then the F-150 pickup. They were both deader than doornails.
The old professor was right. It had really happened. And none of their lives would ever be the same again.
He went outside to the Butler building he’d modified into a Faraday cage. First, he swung open the double doors. In front of him was a huge plywood box covered on all sides by heavy wire mesh.
The mesh on each side of the box was connected with wire ties to allow a steady current of electricity around the box when the EMP hit. He had to snip the wire ties connecting the front of the box with the top and sides before he could open the box.
Once that was done, it was simply a matter of easing the heavy door, which was hinged on the bottom, down to the ground. The door was heavily reinforced to take several hundred pounds of weight, since it acted as a vehicle ramp in addition to a door.
Scott scrambled into the box and jumped on his Gator. He pulled the choke halfway out and held his breath.
It fired right up. The Faraday cage had worked as advertised.
He quickly inventoried the supplies that had already been loaded onto the tiny pickup bed on the back of the Gator. A case of bottled water. A large box of trail mix. A pair of battery operated night vision goggles, and extra batteries. Two two-way radios with batteries. An assault rifle and a 9 mm handgun, with ammunition. A five gallon fuel can, full of fuel to augment the already full tank. Tents, blankets and sleeping bags.
He had everything he needed. He drove the Gator outside the compound and locked everything up. Then he drove down the long and winding drive to the narrow road that fronted the property. He turned right and drove a short distance to the string of high tension power lines he’d follow to his house in the city.
But before he began his journey, he had one more thing to do.
He got off the Gator and took a spool of brown thread. When placed close to the ground, it would be practically invisible.
Scott ran a piece of the thread completely across the roadway, and about six inches above it. He secured it by tying each end to a rock.
Then, in a flash, he was back on the Gator and on the road.
There were two gravel roads that the power company had used to maintain the towers. One ran along the west side of the towers, and about twenty feet away from them. The second was between the legs of the two hundred foot tall towers. That’s the one Scott chose.
His logic was sound. If someone saw him coming from afar and got the hare brained idea to try to knock him off the Gator, it wouldn’t work. It was a fifty yard sprint from the brush to the road beneath the towers. Scott would see them in time to take evasive action.
And if they just wanted to shoot him off the Gator, they’d have to be a good shot. Hitting a fast moving target from fifty yards away wasn’t easy, unless you were an experienced hunter. And at the first sign of trouble, Scott would crouch down to make the shot even harder.
He expected to make good time, helped by the fact that the utility company did an excellent job of keeping their service roads maintained. Although made of gravel, it was very tightly packed and smooth. There were no potholes at all.
In addition, the compound was over six hundred feet higher in elevation than his home in San Antonio. It was all gradual, of course, and barely noticeable over the seventy mile stretch. But it meant there were no uphill grades to slow down his progress.
He looked at his watch, and then the sun in the sky. Then he did some math in his head and figured that, barring any trouble, he’d make it to his house and meet up with everyone else around ten p.m.
He just hoped that everyone else was there when he arrived.
-33-
“Jordan, where are you going?”
His girlfriend Sara had been sitting in the orchestra room, her violin in her lap, looking out the window. Waiting for the power to come back on so they could finish the chair competition they’d been working on.
Suddenly, out of the far parking lot, she saw Jordan, walking quickly like a man on a mission.
The orchestra room had a door that opened to the parking lot, to make it easy for a truck to pick up their instruments for concerts at other schools. Sara took advantage of that fact and quietly slipped out the door to flag Jordan down.
Mr. Rodriguez, the orchestra director, didn’t care. He was sound asleep at his desk in the back of the classroom.
Jordan was somewhat taken aback by Sara’s sudden appearance.
“Baby, get back in the school. You shouldn’t be out here.”
“You’re out here. Why can’t I be?”
She had a point.
“And where are you going?”
Jordan was between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it.
Keeping the whole compound thing a secret from Sara was one thing. Outright lying to her was something else entirely.
“Look. You’re not supposed to know this. The lights are off for good.
They’re never coming on again. None of the vehicles will ever run again. The world has gone back to the stone age, and it’ll be that way for the rest of our lives.”
Sara’s jaw dropped.
“Jordan, what on earth are you talking about?”
“Sara, my dad found some professor’s notes. He predicted this. And my dad believed him, and we’ve been planning for this for over a year now. Since long before we met.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jordan was at a loss. He knew there were no words that would justify his behavior.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going up into the mountains. My family built a safe place to live. Someplace where we’ll still have electricity, and be able to grow our own food. I’m sorry.”
Sara pondered his words. Then tears welled up in her eyes and she looked at him.
Her words were but a whisper.
“But what about me? Where will I go?”
“You’ll wait here with everybody else until your parents come for you. They’ll protect you and care for you.”
She flew into a panic.
“From St. Louis?”
Jordan’s heart hit the floor. He’d forgotten that Sara’s parents were out of town. They’d gone to Missouri to attend some great aunt’s funeral. Sara was all alone.
Sometimes, when under pressure and faced with an important decision, we have a tendency to do something really stupid.
But sometimes, under the very same circumstances, we do something very noble.
Jordan hesitated for only a moment. Then he took her hand and started through the parking lot with her.
“You’re coming with me.”
Sara left everything behind: her violin, her books, her purse. But it didn’t matter. She had Jordan, and she was trusting him to guide her. If he was right, their lives would never be the same again. If he was right, they had only each other. From now on.
Countdown to Armageddon Page 13