Beyond Borders: Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction (The Lone Star Series Book 2)

by Bobby Akart

  Palmer turned around to the desk under the wall-mounted television and began to reveal her loot. “Two butcher knives and a couple of knife sharpeners. Also, forks and spoons.”

  “Wow, this is great stuff,” said Riley.

  Palmer reached to the floor and set a cardboard box on Riley’s bed. “No, there’s more. He asked me to watch the kitchen while he went to the bathroom. I found an empty box and really went to work. Added some hard plastic plates and bowls. A manual can opener. An enamel coffee pot with coffee and a small aluminum pot for cooking.”

  “Coffee?” asked Cooper.

  “You bet, and a stick lighter to build a campfire to brew it over.”

  Cooper got out of bed and used the restroom. Palmer had retrieved some snow in an empty plastic trash can. The melted snow worked to refill the toilet tank reservoir.

  He took a dry bath towel and wiped the grime off his face. Normally clean shaven, he imagined his face with a full beard as he rubbed his whiskers. He had a razor, but he thought he might go to the old-time western look.

  He returned to the room, and then Riley took his turn in the bathroom.

  “Palmer, are they fallin’ apart down there?” Cooper asked. “Other than arguing about who shot John, is anybody talking about how to get home, or where they’re gonna get food, for that matter?”

  “You know, I didn’t stay that long ’cause those jerks from the Stockyards were right in the middle of it. Plus, I had work to do.”

  Riley emerged from the restroom and approached the window. The snow was letting up and the skies were clearing somewhat. “Coop, we better get going. We need to firm up our deal with Pacheco and Morales. With all of this food, we definitely need their help.”

  “You guys go on,” said Palmer. “I’m gonna study the atlas from Daddy’s truck and mark out a route. I looked at it some this morning.”

  “I know, seventeen hundred miles to the house,” said Cooper. “Wasn’t it about two hundred miles to the border?”

  “One-seventy,” replied Palmer.

  Cooper sat at the end of the bed and pulled on his boots. “Well, it’s like we talked about. One stretch at a time; otherwise it will be overwhelming.”

  “How far do you reckon we can travel in a day?” asked Riley.

  “Pops used to say thirty miles on a good day,” said Cooper as he watched the last remnants of the blowing snow. “Today is not a good day, for sure. But it’s like Pops always said. Just keep movin’. You’ll get there when you get there.”

  Chapter 19

  November 26

  The Armstrong Ranch

  Borden County, Texas

  By four o’clock that afternoon, the constant monitoring of the radio revealed nothing new except there were no new reports of nuclear bombs dropping from the sky. Major gave up on the HughesNet internet connection. The only explanation he had was that their low Earth orbit satellite had gotten caught up in one of the nuclear blasts. The odds were one in who-knew-how-many millions, but that was the way it went sometimes.

  Over Lucy’s objections, Major and Preacher decided to stick their heads out of the gopher hole. Armed with a portable radiation detector she’d purchased on Amazon, the guys powered up the device, cracked the hatch to the bunker and pushed it onto the straw-covered floor.

  Fortunately, they’d forgotten about their plans to leave a pony in the stall. Most likely, their hands and the Geiger counter would have been trampled by the startled horse.

  After several minutes, Major opened the hatch and grabbed the device. He and Preacher confirmed the findings, but they had to show Lucy before they were given clearance to leave the bunker.

  Major recalled an old Bulgarian proverb he had learned. The man was the head of the family, but the woman was the neck. Where the neck turns, there will be the head watching!

  While Miss Lucy allowed her husband the illusion that he was the lion, the proverbial king of the castle, it was she who ruled the roost.

  After his wife gave him a kiss with a nod of approval, the two men readied their rifles and emerged into the cold, fresh air outside the bunker. They closed the hatch behind them and covered up their tracks with straw.

  “Should we take the truck?” asked Preacher. “We can cover more territory and get back underground.”

  “Yeah,” replied Major. “Let’s feed the critters out at the barnyard first. Plus, we can gather some eggs. Before we go back down, we’ll check the horses’ water and feed.”

  “Let’s ride,” said Preacher as they headed toward the feed truck. “I hate to say this, boss, but your prized F-450 may be toast.”

  “Yup. It was a pickup, but it was loaded down with electronics.”

  “Listen, Major,” started Preacher as the guys got settled into the front seat. Preacher turned over the engine and immediately adjusted the heat. “We haven’t talked about the kids ’cause I don’t wanna upset Miss Lucy. I’ve watched them three grow up. They’re levelheaded and smart. Plus, they’ve got the survival instinct.”

  The older truck rattled up the gravel driveway toward the main gate. The heat began to warm the cab while Major stared silently out the window.

  Preacher gripped the wheel but began to nervously wiggle his fingers. “Boss, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  “Nah, Preach, not at all. I have a hundred percent confidence in the kids. Trust me, I’m danged worried about them. Miss Lucy said a prayer and is certain God’s guidance will get them home to us. I don’t disagree. However, the obstacles of weather, food, and water don’t concern me. It’s who they run up against that worries me the most.”

  “Oh, yeah. Our fellow man. Aren’t human beings wonderful?”

  Major pulled his hat over his eyes and readjusted it. He let out a sigh. “I’ve seen people do horrific things to one another during my career in law enforcement. I mean, so god-awful that you couldn’t make a movie about it.”

  Preacher approached the front gate, and the men stopped the truck for a moment. Nothing appeared out of sorts, so Preacher turned along the fence toward the barnyard.

  Major continued. “Here’s the thing, Preach. Prior to this EMP attack, people had laws and law enforcement to deter them from doing despicable things to one another. Now the rules don’t apply. Law enforcement may try to keep the peace for a while, but I believe that will stop in favor of protecting their own. The kids will encounter desperate people looking for food or willing to take anything they may have by force. The scenarios running through my mind are making me nuts.”

  “I get it, Major. I wish we could go looking for them, but that’s impossible. Heck, I wish they were armed. They had to cross the border into Canada, and those folks are very strict.”

  “Back in the day, I’d tell my new recruits that firearms and gunfights are not the best solution to a hostile situation. Now, if you don’t have a gun to defend yourself, when it really gets bad, you’ll probably die.”

  They approached the chicken coop first since the setting sun was taking away their natural light. Preacher positioned the truck so the headlights shone on the chicken yard and the coop. The men exited the truck, with their weapons.

  “We’ve gotta carry these at all times, Preach. Sidearms too. Even though the power didn’t go out in Texas, some of the same issues the rest of the country is experiencing will apply here.”

  “Like what?” asked Preacher as they approached the barnyard.

  “America was a ticking time bomb ready to explode,” started Major. “I think our nation was in decline. I always felt deep in my gut there would be a shock to the system. You know, some catastrophic event that would upset the apple cart.”

  They began to gather eggs in two baskets from Miss Lucy’s prolific egg-laying hens. She considered her chickens to be one of her best food preps.

  Major continued as they worked, taking a moment now and again to survey his surroundings. “Not all shocks are catastrophic, including something as brazen as what happened on 9/11. But when the right one com
es along, like this one, well, it’s kinda like explosives. We’ve worked with dynamite. We gotta handle it gently, and it’s best not to light up a cigarette around the stuff. Semtex, the military-type stuff, is different. You can drop it, kick it around in the dirt, and even toss the brick on a bonfire. Nothing will happen. It requires the right detonator to cause an explosion.

  “To me, America began to look like a tractor trailer rig loaded with Semtex. It kept getting filled up but was only as dangerous as a truckload of lettuce. However, add the right detonator and you’re the push of a button away from totally devastating life as we know it.”

  “Armageddon,” muttered Preacher as the men returned to the truck with nearly four dozen eggs. “Really, societal collapse.”

  “There ya go,” said Major. “It’s been comin’ on for years. Our morals are in decline. Society has become undisciplined, unrealistic, and selfish. After the Depression years in the thirties, through World War II, Americans were taught that frugality and prudence were prized virtues. Communities were cohesive, and usually activities revolved around the church. People were brought up with a conception of proper morals and the ability to distinguish between right and wrong.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” added Preacher. “Every month there’s another mass murder and people slough it off. Yesterday, people stormed into a Walmart and pert near beat each other to death over a curved-screen television on sale.”

  The men pulled out the feed bags and walked around dispersing corn to the chickens and pigs.

  Major continued. “Decades ago, events like these would create major news headlines and spark conversations. Now, despite the fact it’s depressing, immoral, and sometimes vulgar, it isn’t considered catastrophic. It’s the new normal.”

  As they finished up, the stars were shining brightly, and the cold night air settled on Armstrong Ranch. Major pulled his coat closer, trying to ward off the chill caused by the weather and his concern for his kids.

  “Major, do you think the kids understand this? Do they know what to expect when they hit the road?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Chapter 20

  November 26

  Texas Homeland Security Operations Center

  Austin, Texas

  Governor Burnett had spent the entire day in the SOC, watching reports come in from around the world concerning the situation in the rest of the country. She was also able to monitor in real time the law enforcement activities within Texas.

  After she’d received the reports from Beaumont and Port Arthur about looting and streams of refugees entering the state at Interstate 10 over the Sabine River, she instructed the Department of Safety to close access to the bridge and to notify Louisiana Highway Patrol officers on the other side of the state line that the bridge was unsafe for pedestrian travel.

  Despite the EMP destroying electronics on automobile systems, some cars along the Gulf Coast were not impacted, probably due to their distance from the point of detonation. Thousands of people were trying to cross over the Sabine River bridge while sparse vehicular traffic was moving as well. One person was injured when they inadvertently stepped off the sidewalk along the outside of the bridge into traffic, which resulted in two broken legs.

  Governor Burnett saw the bridge closing as a test or experiment for a broader range of options dealing with the border. If it succeeded, she’d expand the closings to all the interstates tomorrow under the auspices of exercising safety precautions.

  At six o’clock that evening, she planned on addressing Texans via radio, television and emergency band radio broadcasts. She had not ordered martial law because, for the most part, the citizens of Texas were behaving and helping one another. The only hot spots for Texas law enforcement agencies on this first day of the collapse of America was near the state line with Louisiana and in El Paso, where the city was having difficulty controlling their overcrowded conditions.

  The governor had just completed a meeting with the federal liaison from the Department of Homeland Security and three members of the FEMA operational team within the state. They briefed her on what they knew of the federal response in the rest of the country but were not able to provide her any information on the potential for a broader war. They were also tight-lipped on what, if anything, the president might ask of her during a phone call that was scheduled in five minutes.

  Governor Burnett asked to be left alone in the conference room, not to prepare for her conversation with the president, but rather, to weigh the pros and cons of secession at this moment of crisis. The dilemma for her was a moral one. Politically, she despised Washington and its career politicians for what they’d done to America. It no longer resembled the freedoms envisioned by the Founders.

  She, and her predecessors before her, had taken Texans through many economic sacrifices in order to protect the state from a catastrophic event like this one. On the one hand, she understood the perception of Texas turning its back on the nation would draw the ire of every citizen of the rest of the country. However, how could she justify to her constituents that she was going to open the state and its limited resources to millions of others? If folks were at the grocery stores cleaning out the shelves already, imagine what would happen when they were told to share with millions of people entering the state rather than their own families.

  A gentle tap on the door of the conference room interrupted her thoughts. It was her chief of staff.

  “Governor, we have the president on the line. You’ll be on speakerphone with her and Charles Acton, her chief of staff.”

  “Thank you,” replied the governor, looking down at the satellite phone she’d been provided earlier. “Do I press this button in the center?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Also, please be mindful to let the other party finish their sentence. There can be a slight delay, which will result in you talking over one another.”

  The governor nodded and pressed the button. She paused for a moment and listened to background conversation coming from the White House.

  “Good afternoon, Madam President.”

  “Governor, thank you for taking my call,” started President Harman. “These are trying times, to say the least. There are many issues, both domestic and internationally, to attend to that have delayed my reaching out to you. My apologies for that.”

  Peaches and cream. She wants something.

  “We understand completely, Madam President. It’s our hope the country will not be subject to further attack, naturally.”

  “Same here, obviously. Our military stands ready to defend the United States, and our response to this heinous act will be dealt swiftly once we’ve received all the facts. That’s not the reason for my call, however.”

  The governor shifted uneasily in her seat. The president still had command of the armed forces, including the hundred thousand plus based within the Texas borders. Now was not the time to appear confrontational.

  “Of course, Madam President. How can I assist?”

  “Well, frankly, Governor, we’re not quite sure yet. I realize, of course, that you have your hands full with safety obligations to the citizens of Texas, but we all have to look at the big picture. Luckily, the power grid of Texas appears to be unaffected by the attack.”

  Not luck, Madam President. Planning and preparedness.

  The president continued. “We will utilize one of our hardened aircraft as a shuttle flight between Andrews and Lackland in San Antonio. I’ll be sending a team of advisors from Homeland Security, Health and Human Services, and Commerce to assess your situation and how we can use Texas’s good fortune to help the rest of the nation during this catastrophic event.”

  Governor Burnett was silent, not because she was being mindful, as her aide had admonished regarding the use of a satellite phone, but she wanted to choose her next words wisely. She needed time to make a decision before Washington opened the floodgates and dumped their problems on Texas.

  She finally spoke after an excruciating five seconds. “That’s a
wonderful idea, Madam President. We do have our hands full today, and tonight I need to address my fellow Texans. If you’d like to send your contingent tomorrow afternoon, we can have our ducks in a row and a much better idea of how we can help.”

  The president paused, but Governor Burnett could hear conversation in the background. She waited until the president finally addressed her.

  “I suppose that’s the best we can do, Governor. I will let our people at FEMA and DHS know that you’ll be available tomorrow afternoon and they should plan accordingly. Thank you.”

  “It was a pleasure—” started the governor before she was interrupted by a rapid beeping sound emanating from the phone. She pressed the center button, totally disconnecting the call. “Well, I guess that conversation is over.”

  PART THREE

  Sunday, November 27

  Chapter 21

  November 27

  Deerfoot Inn & Casino

  Calgary, Alberta, Canada

  The snow had begun to taper off the night before, so the group of five took two-hour shifts with the horses to allow everyone ample sleep. Barring an unforeseen weather change, they planned on leaving at first light.

  Thus far, the rodeo kids’ ability to make quick, informed decisions had served them well. Immediately after the EMP hit, they were quick to reach a logical conclusion that North America was in big trouble. They’d gathered their things and headed for adequate shelter, for them and their most valuable assets, the horses.

  Growing up, they’d learned that situational awareness helped protect them from untimely accidents and unforeseen events. Awareness is ninety percent of preparedness. Cooper had repeated this phrase repeatedly since the lights went out.

  Once they’d arrived back at the hotel before everyone else, they’d established a regiment to rest and watch over the horses. Palmer quickly set about foraging for food and supplies while others in the hotel spent their time in the lobby complaining or bemoaning their condition.