RIGHTEOUS GATHERING
Book one of the Righteous Survival EMP Saga
By: Timothy A. Van Sickel
All rights resevred
Copyright 2016 Timothy A Van Sickel
Original and modified cover art by Luz Adriana Villa and CoverDesignStudio.com
Dedicated to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who inspired me, and my wife and family who encouraged me.
Table of Contents
Contents
Author's Foreword
TRIGGER WARNING!
Chapter 1 I Knew, September, 2018
Chapter 2 No Plan, September 11. 2018
Chapter 3 The Funeral Late July, 2011
Chapter 4 Gathering, September 11, 2018
Chapter 5 Getting Janie, September 11, 2018
Chapter 6 Electricity, June, 2016
Chapter 7Activated, September 11, 2018
Chapter 8 The Kids, September 11, 2018
Chapter 9 Bacon, Spring 2014
Chapter 10First Night, September 11, 2018
Chapter 11 Second Morning, Farmstead, September 12, 2018
Chapter 12 Second Morning, Central City, September 12, 2018
Chapter 13Hunting, November 2008
Chapter 14 Moxham Burning, September 12, 2018
Chapter 15 Returning Home, September 12, 2018
Chapter 16 Security, 2015
Chapter 17 Getting Home, Part 2, September 12, 2018
Chapter 18Back Home, September 12, 2018
Chapter 19Moxham, Day 2, Herc's Story, September 12, 2018
Chapter 20 Wagerly's Compound, Day 2, September 12, 2018
Chapter 21 Moxham, Night 2, Herc's Story, September 12, 2018
Chapter 22 3rd Morning, Farmstead, September 13, 2018
Chapter 23 Central City, Day 3, September 13. 2018
Chapter 24 More Central City, Day 3, September 13, 2018
Chapter 25 Moxham to Davidsville, Day 3 Herc's Story, September 13, /2018
Chapter 26 Home Again, September 13, 2018
Chapter 27 Wagerlys' Compound, September 13, 2018
Chapter 28 Wagerlys' Compound, September 14, 2018
Chapter 29 Farmstead, Day 4, September 14, 2018
Chapter 30Day 4 Herc to Central City, September 14, 2018
Author's Foreword
I have read many series about the collapse of the Western World; every scenario from mutant viruses causing zombie-like uprisings, EMP attacks causing the collapse of the grid, to general economic collapse due to bad policies. I have even read part of a romance series set during an EMP-type collapse. I have felt that all of these series of novels have lacked one very important aspect--religion--or a religious morality.
This series of books follows a man, his family, and surrounding community, through a devastating EMP attack on America. The man happens to be a born-again Christian who tries to follow his moral compass at every twist and turn. He has brought up his family to be God-loving Christians, willing to help out their fellow man, if at all possible. And he associates and surrounds himself with like-minded people.
Setting priorities, and following what he believes to be right through the eyes of his morality, is what sets this series apart from others like it. Ninety percent of Americans believe in God. Seventy-seven percent of Americans say they are Christians. Twenty-five percent of Americans say they are Evangelical Christians. In rural America, I assume that number is higher.
So how will Christians deal with a collapse scenario? That is the question that this series of novels tries to portray. I am not a scholarly priest. I am not a survival specialist. I am neither a farmer nor a gun expert. But I truly felt called by God to write this novel as a Christian man who does think a collapse of some type may occur.
The people in this novel are fictional characters. Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. I live in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where the story is based, and the towns and places do exist or are loosely based on real places. I hope you find what unfolds on the following pages to be exciting, intriguing, entertaining, and in some ways uplifting.
Trigger Warning!
ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!
PROCEED WITH CAUTION!
This novel contains characters that are openly religious. Their actions, words and thoughts are based in their Christian faith. In this novel people pray, and even quote scripture. The characters try to follow their Christian principles in dealing with very difficult decisions. They try to follow a moral code based on biblical teachings. If you find this offensive, you may not want to read this novel. You will also find minor swearwords and slightly objectionable language in order to keep the story real.
Chapter 1 I Knew, September, 2018
A sense of normalcy and peace returned to our mountain-top neighborhood… that is how I hope this story ends. Here is how it begins. I knew right away. There was no wondering, no second thoughts, no confusion. I knew immediately that bad things had happened; the world had changed.
I was sitting on a split-log bench by the chicken coop, looking out over our farmstead, enjoying the day, enjoying the beautiful creation we call earth. And then everything changed in an instant. The first thing I did was pray.
Earlier that morning I had checked on a renovation project one of my crews was working on in Davidsville. The job would wrap up in the next few days. My lead carpenter gave me a list of items we would need to finish up the small details. Paying attention to the details is the difference between a repeat customer or just another job completed. Going that extra bit means repeat business and referrals. It also gives you the satisfaction of knowing you did your best. I always try to do my best.
Then I had stopped to meet with a woman who was looking to renovate her patio area to incorporate a small pavilion with an outdoor kitchen. She had seen one we did on Benshoff Hill, and the extra effort on that job was now paying off.
I was taking the rest of day off, which means a day off the job site, working on proposals and taking care of paperwork, the insurances, permits, making sure we complied with all the newest regulations, researching products, etc. So I was back at my property. My wife had told me about a hole in the chicken coop, so I had repaired it before heading to the office to design the pavilion/kitchen. It's a constant effort to keep the coyotes, foxes and fisher cats away from the chickens and ducks.
I sat there smoking a cigarette, one of my bad habits left over from when I had a lot of bad habits. I was casually looking at the contrails in the sky above me. There were three of them, not uncommon in the skies of western Pennsylvania, mostly jets heading out of or into the Washington and Baltimore area airports. It was a beautiful day with clear blue skies. The goldenrod were brilliant at the edge of the pasture, and the chickens were still fussing from me working on the fence. I noticed a couple of redwing blackbirds dipping and dodging along the fenceline. It was the kind of day that I thank God for. But then, it wasn't.
One of the contrails puffed, puffed again then sputtered and disappeared. I immediately noticed that the other two did the same, their contrails showing a distress in their flight. And I knew what had happened, no second thoughts, no confusion. I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket, dead, confirmation. September 11, 2018.
Transfixed, I continued to watch the sky as three small silver specks headed towards earth; the dead airplanes succumbing to gravity. I began to pray for those on board, as I knew they were tragically and frantically dealing with the inevitable. I prayed that they knew Jesus and were saved. I prayed that their hearts would be comforted in knowing their salvation even in the fac
e of death.
Then I wondered, "Is this it? Is this Armageddon? Is this the Rapture? Am I going to see the face of God? Am I going to see the golden streets of heaven?" I have not always been a Christian but I rededicated myself to the Lord many years ago, and believe fully that I am saved through Christ's blood and God's grace.
So I continued to pray, asking for forgiveness, and thanking God for blessing my life as he has, praying for my children and grandchildren, and humanity as a whole. And I watched as the goldenrod swayed in the breeze, and the redwinged blackbirds flitted about, and the three silver specks plummeted to earth, growing in size as they rapidly neared their inevitable fate.
And I waited. For the Rapture. For the heavenly choirs. For the pearly gates. For the streets of gold. I waited to see the face of Jesus, my savior! And I watched the swaying goldenrod, the redwinged blackbirds, the clucking chickens, and the white clouds against a clear blue sky; and the dim fireball on the horizon as a silver speck disappeared over the far mountain treeline.
This ended my prayers and began a bit of panic. I'm still here. No golden streets, no face of God, no heavenly chorus. Did I get something wrong? Is my heart not pure enough? Was it all a myth? "No!" I cried out loud. "God, please forgive me for anything I have done against your will! Please forgive me for not following you, as I should, for straying from the path you wanted me to follow! Dear God, may your grace and forgiveness be upon me in Christ's name I do pray!" I wept.
But there I was, with the blue skies and billowing clouds, the swaying goldenrod, the blackbirds diving and dodging, the chickens still clucking and scratching. And I prayed again, this time for my wife, my children and grandchildren, and all of God's people. I prayed that I was not pure of heart but that they were. That they were seeing the golden streets, joining the heavenly choirs and fully experiencing the love of our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ.
The BOOM from the explosion over the horizon, where one of the plummeting airplanes had turned into a fireball, ended my prayers. I was still here, no Rapture, at least not for me. And I knew what had happened. Life on earth had just changed in ways no one could predict, but some of us had prepared for, including my family and me. We had been hit with an EMP, Electro-Magnetic Pulse, and anything with electronic circuitry was dead. Grid down, computers down, most vehicles dead, transportation systems grinding to a halt, factories, hospitals, grocery stores, modern farms, all shut down in one terrible instant.
Was it an attack? Was it a sun flare? Doesn't matter I suppose. But life just radically changed for all of humanity.
Chapter 2 No Plan, September 11. 2018
It is time to start moving. No more contemplation and prayer. Three minutes past EMP, and there is no time to waste. Chaos is no more than 48 hours away, maybe less. I have to bring my loved ones home. My beautiful wife, my kids, my grandkids; those I can help that is, those here in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. My family is far flung, brothers and sisters as close as Pittsburgh and as far away as the west coast, and a stepdaughter in the Rocky Mountains with her husband and two sons.
We had all talked about something like this casually, maybe too casually. And we had all agreed that the farmstead would be our safe place. But I'm very worried that our plans are way too casual. Bringing my family home is going to be a challenge. Just finding my family is going to be a challenge!
I'm still in shock, semi-panic. I know what I saw, what has happened. My closest loved ones are all in town, twenty miles away. How many stalled cars, accidents, fires, panicked civilians, panicked police officers, are between them and me? How am I going get them home? What am I going to have to do to get them home?
I need to find my wife first. Her office is on the outskirts of town. She is way smarter than me in many ways and, as always, she will be the rock that will pull us all together. She is tall and has exotic mixed-race beauty, with emerald green eyes, but her troubled life, coming to age as a mixed-race woman, long before that was accepted, has given her common sense and compassion far beyond most people’s ability to understand. Along with my faith, she will keep me grounded. My stepson and daughter-in-law live only a few miles further into town. They will be next, then their children. I'm going to have to wing it from there.
The chickens are clucking because of my sprint towards the house. The blackbirds scoot to the other end of the meadow. My dogs start barking and bouncing as if it's time to play. "No play time now my friends," I say as I make a mental list of what to bring, what I may encounter. Weapons, water, cash and first aid are what keep recurring in my mind.
I step in the door and grab the keys for the old van, then head towards the barn. I glance at the cluster of windmills on the nearby ridge top, the blades slowly turning in the morning breeze. "How long before those towering hulks begin to fall apart?" I wonder out loud. The circuitry controlling the pitch and direction of the blades is surely fried, the automatic shutdown system is fried. Without the control systems, the towering beasts are useless, and in the next big storm will spin out of control and literally fly apart.
My own small wind turbine is dutifully spinning away, generating electricity. Hopefully the Faraday cage surrounding the powerhouse, with all its control systems and batteries, that my brother Paul designed, has worked. I'll find out soon enough.
The barking dogs bring me back to my mission. I think about chaining the dogs, but decide to let them roam free under the circumstances. They are going to be my security until we get back. Pulling open the sliding barn doors, I run past my big Dodge 4x4 and say a silent prayer that the old van will start.
We have a 1978 Econoline van with a good drivetrain that I bought cheap a few years ago. My stepson and I put in new brake lines, did a front end rebuild, and some bodywork. Four new tires, and she was good for the road. We needed the big van to go anywhere with all the grandkids. We had just used it last week to take the kids out to the Juniata River to go fishing. When I bought it, I knew it was pre-electronics, EMP-proof. I even talked my wife out of a newer model, but I never brought up the EMP aspect.
I open the door and the dome light comes on! Hallelujah! Jumping in I turn the ignition and the old engine starts right up. I back her up the driveway to the side of the house where I can load up for this trip to town. It's going to be like no other trip before. Weapons, water, cash, first aid.
As I go back in the house I try a few light switches hoping the battery backup system has kicked in. The new house is wired for general power failure, which is common this far up the mountain. The control system and grid interface electronics are in the powerhouse Faraday cage, so I am hopeful. But no luck there. "Shit," I think, "did the Faraday cage fail? Not good." I pull open a few curtains to let some more light in as I head to my office.
I open an ordinary looking closet and unlock the heavy door. In my prep days, I couldn’t afford a large enough gun safe so I settled for a closet built of doubled and overlapped 2" x 8"s, covered with ½" cement board and finished to look like an ordinary closet. Secure enough against the average crook, semi-fire resistant and a lot cheaper than a safe of the same size.
I set aside my two AR15s and load eight magazines for them. I also load three more magazines for my Glock and four for my wife's. Thinking of the urban terrain I'm heading into I also grab the Remington 870 12 gauge and a box of #4 along with my wife's Glock and her shoulder holster.
It's an awkward load to carry it all out to the van, but I get it there. I stash the ARs in the back of the van, and grab a blanket to wrap the Remington to hide it, because I want it in the front seat with me. I put my wife's Glock and spare ammo in the glove compartment, and stick my spare ammo in the door pocket. I make a quick check to make sure my Glock is still secure in my belt holster. It's kind of a habit.
Returning to the house, I head to the basement and grab a couple cases of water. I'm not sure why I need cases of water, but something in the back of my head says I should take it. I am sure it is God talking to me, preparing me for what is ahead.
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Yes, God talks to me, and I talk to him, often. It's not a Charleston Heston in "Exodus" kind of thing where God speaks in a bold confident voice. More of a "hey Mark, take some water, you may need it" whisper. I think he talks to all of us everyday like that, we just don’t hear it or ignore it. Think of the skits with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I try to listen to that angel, he's usually right.
Carrying the cases of water up the stairs, I stop at the bathroom and grab one of our first aid kits, and then head out to the van. Cash, I need cash too. I go back to the safe and grab $2,500 in hundreds and fifties. If anything is open, it will be cash only. If I have the opportunity or the need, I'll have the cash. After loading that, I go back in and secure the house. Locking the doors is all I can do; the security system is fried.
I jump in the van and check the gas, full. I fueled up on the way home from the Juniata. Time to head into town; a trip to town like no other trip I have ever taken.
It's a few hundred yards from my house to the edge of the property, then another quarter mile on our driveway, a country lane through my neighbor's farm until I hit the paved county road. It's still a beautiful day with clear blue skies. My blackbird friends have returned, and are skittering along the fence line. Our hay fields are ripe and ready for another mowing, my neighbor's corn is tall and ready for harvest.
Did I really see three planes drop from the sky? Was America really hit with a massive EMP? It is all so quiet and peaceful. Another picturesque day in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. I could take a picture right now, and it could appear on countless calendars and be subtitled "Harvest Time in the Laurel Highlands." It is truly surreal.
But I know what I saw, and I know what happened. I don’t need some squelching noise and an emergency broadcast to come over a radio that doesn't work to confirm it. As I get closer to town, the devastation will begin to confirm what I already know.
Righteous Gathering: Book 1 of the Righteous Survival EMP Saga Page 1