Geostorm The Collapse: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The Geostorm Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  Tommy was too hyped up to sleep. He kept a supply of Starbucks Molten Chocolate Latte bottles in his pantry for those days he didn’t want to take the brief walk down to one of the several Starbucks locations around the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. He was on his third bottle, drinking them without ice in an attempt to save the frozen pizzas occupying the bachelor’s refrigerator.

  As the day wore on, Tommy wore down. He came off the caffeine high and finally succumbed to his exhaustion. He settled into a leather recliner across from the sofa where Kristi and the chimp slept peacefully.

  He studied his boss. Only, she wasn’t his boss anymore, he supposed. The Brookfield Zoo still existed, but the animals were mostly gone. He was still a zoologist, albeit unemployed. In the brief time since he’d met Kristi, he’d come to respect her as a doctor of veterinary medicine, as well as a strong-willed woman who stood on her principles without apology.

  The catastrophic events of the last several days had drawn them closer together, resulting in a moment, as they say, a near-kiss atop The Living Coast exhibit at the zoo. He definitely had feelings for her, strong enough to risk his life to protect hers. Now they were in a fight for survival in a world full of unknown perils and unexpected threats.

  Tommy drifted off to sleep and was rudely awakened by pounding on his door. In his slumber, he ignored it at first, thinking it was part of a dream. When the thumping persisted, he jumped out of his chair as Kristi tried to calm the young chimp.

  A male voice boomed from the hallway, “Thomas Bannon! Open up!”

  “Tommy, what do we do?” asked Kristi in a hushed voice. She was desperately trying to keep the chimpanzee quiet, but she was having none of it.

  THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

  “What the hell?” muttered Tommy. He was annoyed now. He angrily grabbed Kristi’s pistol off the coffee table and marched toward the door. He stopped and motioned for her to take the chimp into his bedroom, which she promptly did, closing the door behind her.

  “You in there, Bannon?” the man demanded, persistent as if he already knew the answer.

  Tommy held the pistol so that it was pointed toward the door handle. If the man tried to break in, Tommy had something for him.

  He eased up to the door and looked through the peephole. Two men dressed in jeans and polo shirts stood a few feet away from the door.

  Tommy fumed. He didn’t respond well to orders and demands, especially from people he didn’t know. He couldn’t decide whether to ignore them or open the door and rip a new asshole in the two guys.

  “Whadya want?” he finally bellowed back at them. He was in no mood after the events of the prior evening.

  “Bannon, we’re with the HOA. We need to speak with you, so open up.”

  “You got something to say, say it.” Tommy gripped the gun. He wondered whether the bullets would penetrate the door. He had no reason to disbelieve the men, but this was a different kind of world now, as he and Kristi had discovered during the night at the zoo.

  “All right, have it your way,” the man responded, still bellowing. “Two things. First, you need to move your vehicle. It’s in a loading zone. Second, there is a mandatory meeting of all residents in the main lobby tonight at seven. If your clocks aren’t working, that’s in two hours.”

  “What kind of meeting?” asked Tommy.

  “The mandatory kind, pal.”

  Tommy gritted his teeth. He leaned forward again to get a good look at the two men through the fish-eye lens of the peephole. You know, kinda the way you look at a bad driver on the highway when they cut you off or do something else stupid. You just have to see what stupid looks like. Tommy just had to see what these assholes looked like.

  “Fine, I’ll move the truck,” he shouted at them without making a commitment concerning the meeting. He wanted to discuss it with Kristi first.

  He waited for a response, and after fifteen or twenty seconds, he leaned forward to look through the peephole again. They were gone.

  Tommy scowled and flipped off the men, who’d already left. “Assholes,” he grumbled as he marched back into the spacious living room and set the pistol down where he’d found it. “Come on out, Kristi, they’re gone.”

  She exited the bedroom, holding the chimp’s hand, with a huge smile on her face. “You’re never gonna believe this.”

  Tommy turned his head in bewilderment. He presumed she’d want to hear about his encounter with the brutes in the hallway. “What?”

  “This young lass is potty-trained.”

  “Wait, what? Do you mean as in toilet-trained?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” replied Kristi. The chimp looked adoringly up at Kristi as she spoke. “I don’t know how or when that could’ve happened at the zoo, but while you were yelling at the door, she moseyed pretty as you please into your bathroom and climbed on the toilet seat to pee.”

  Tommy scowled. “I wasn’t yelling.”

  “You were yelling,” said Kristi with a smile.

  “Well, sometimes you have to yell,” he countered.

  Kristi laughed and held her hands up. “Hey, I don’t judge. You had more patience with that guy than I would’ve. So, what’s this about a meeting?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it has to deal with the power outage and stuff. They probably just want to get a head count of who’s in the building, what our plans are, etcetera.”

  Kristi hoisted the chimp onto her hip and made her way back to the sofa. “Are you gonna go?”

  “Yeah, probably should. I have to move the truck anyway, so I might as well make an appearance. It would be nice to see if they have any plans for securing the building. I think you should stay here.”

  “I agree. Maybe it’s better that they don’t know about your guests,” she added as she petted the chimp’s head. “Either of us.”

  Tommy knelt down in front of them. He reached his hand out to the young chimp, and she immediately responded by tugging on his fingers.

  “Kristi, I don’t get it. You know the animals so well. Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?”

  “Absolutely positive. And now that I’ve discovered she’s potty-trained at such a young age, I can’t help but wonder if someone was working with her without my knowledge.”

  “Like who? You were the only one that had carte blanche over the primates.”

  Kristi leaned back against the sofa cushions as the chimp crawled onto Tommy’s knee. “I’ve got to think on it. The only chimp that had been toilet-trained during my tenure at Brookfield was Knight. No other zoologist showed any interest in taking on a chimpanzee project like him.”

  Tommy snuggled on the female chimp and then looked to Kristi. “Well, she certainly seems docile, um, if you know what I mean.”

  “Unlike Knight,” Kristi said with a hint of understanding and sadness.

  Tommy felt guilty for the implication. “I’m sorry. She’s too small and young to be capable of harming us. We need to save her, Kristi.”

  “You already did. Now we need to give her the best possible life.”

  He handed the chimp back to her. “Let’s start with a name.”

  Kristi smiled and looked the chimp in the face. She responded by laughing with a hearty Oo-oo-oo.

  Tommy came up with a suggestion. Sometimes, the first idea is the best one. “Let’s name her Brooke. Short for Brookfield, where we found her.”

  “I like it. Plus, she’s a talker. So Babblin’ Brooke fits, too.”

  Brooke agreed. Oo-oo-oo!

  Chapter 4

  Tommy Bannon’s Residence

  North Michigan Avenue

  Chicago, Illinois

  Tommy didn’t know anyone in his building despite having lived there for a few years and staying with his parents from time to time prior to their untimely deaths. Sure, there were familiar faces, the kinds of acquaintances you make through casual conversation in the parking garage or the elevator. Other than that, he couldn’t recall anyone’s name, occupation, unit numbe
r, or relationship to the building’s condo association. In that regard, he was about to find out who was really running the place, or so they thought.

  A stout, heavyset woman with wire-rim glasses and wearing a navy-blue pantsuit stood behind the security desk in the main lobby of the building. She didn’t speak to anyone, taking time to refer to index cards with handwritten notes on them. She constantly checked her watch, and at the duly appointed hour of seven, she tapped her manicured nails on the glass bezel and addressed the crowd of nearly eighty residents.

  “Thank you all for coming this evening under these exceptional circumstances. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Helen Housley, the president of the association. I’ve been a resident here for twenty-four years, and to the best of my knowledge, I’m one of the original unit owners. Also, with your continuous votes of approval, I’ve been on the association board or acted as its president for fourteen of those twenty-four years.”

  “You’ve done a stellar job, Helen!” shouted a woman near the front.

  “She most certainly has,” added another.

  Tommy rolled his eyes. Ass-kissers.

  A few stragglers emerged from the stairwell and quickly blended into the crowd. Housley looked upon them with disapproval. Apparently, she expected strict compliance with her directives, as Tommy would soon learn.

  “For those of you who arrived late,” she began with a hint of condescension to drive her point home, “I’m Helen Housley, the president of our association. I’ve called us all together this evening to discuss our plight and how we as a community should proceed. As you all know, our forward-thinking president has found it necessary to shut down our power grid temporarily while this catastrophic event passes. Prior to the shutdown earlier today, I was in touch with my contacts at city hall and was assured that this too shall pass.

  “In the meantime, upon their suggestion, and applying common sense to the situation we’re in, I made a series of proposals to the members of the governing board of the building, who’ve unanimously approved the measures.”

  A man in the crowd interrupted her. “When was the meeting? I don’t recall receiving notification—”

  Big, big mistake. Even Tommy grimaced as Housley provided the insubordinate resident a death stare.

  She was quick to admonish the questioning resident. “The dire circumstances required an emergency meeting to be called. One, I might add, that was well within our rights under the bylaws and allowed without notice. All owners, as well as their renters, have been provided a copy of the bylaws upon taking residency here. I suggest everyone read them.”

  Tommy shook his head at the woman’s attitude. If the meeting was starting out with this level of hostility and a dictatorial approach, he could only imagine what was next on the agenda.

  “Does anyone else have a question or a point to make?” asked Housley.

  Tommy glanced around. He’d be surprised if anyone in the lobby was even breathing after that dress down.

  “Nobody? Good,” Housley continued. “Those of us on the board feel we have a solemn duty to take all necessary measures to protect our building and those who occupy it. Protection takes many forms.

  “First and foremost, we must ensure we have no intruders on the premises, including the parking garage.

  “Second, we need to confirm that only authorized residents are presently occupying the building. During the uncertainty associated with the power outage, the hired personnel from Intellex Security left their posts, and the next shift didn’t show up for work. For a period of four hours earlier today, the building was left wide open for all kinds of riffraff to enter.

  “All of us are very much aware of the criminal element that resides in Chicago. I know you’ve heard the gunshots outside. It would be naïve of us to believe our building is safe from those who might want to steal from us or do us harm.

  “With that said, we’ll be recruiting a security team after the meeting to fill a variety of functions, including guarding our entrances, patrolling the garage, and searching every unit for stowaways, for lack of a better term.”

  “Stowaways?” asked one of the residents.

  “Yes. It’s important that we keep tabs on everyone who is in the building at all times. Before you return to your units after this meeting, you must sign in and declare any occupants in your home, including pets. This will be important as we establish our rationing program.”

  The residents began to talk loudly among themselves. One of them spoke up. She nervously asked, “What do you mean by searching every unit? You’re not coming in my home without my approval.”

  A collective gasp could be heard in the lobby. Tommy wasn’t sure if it was because the woman had challenged Housley or because the realization of what the head of the association had said earlier was just sinking in.

  “I find myself once again directing your attention to the provisions of the association documents that were provided to every resident, not to mention on file with the Cook County Recorder of Deeds. It is standard language in all of these enabling documents to allow designated personnel to enter each and every unit for a variety of purposes, including the apprehension or removal of unauthorized people. We have a lot of absentee owners here, and they expect us to take care of their units while they are gone. There is a reason we all pay high monthly assessments.”

  The woman was undeterred. “Well, I can tell you that my home is empty except for myself and my dachshund. You don’t need to enter my condo.”

  “Actually, to be fair, we do, Miss—?” Housley’s voice trailed off with the purpose of prompting the woman to reveal her name.

  “DuPage. Eloise DuPage.”

  Housley glanced to her right and nodded imperceptibly. Tommy immediately picked up on it and stood back slightly to see where the glance was directed. He immediately recognized the two men from the hallway—Housley’s henchmen. They whispered to one another, and one of them immediately peeled off toward the stairwell. It didn’t take Tommy long to realize the man was headed for the home of Ms. Eloise DuPage.

  “Well, Eloise, the reason that we need to obtain an accurate head count, including pets, has to do with the rationing program I referenced earlier. Obviously, the lobby café will be closed indefinitely, as well as the juice bar located adjacent to the gym. We intend to use these two facilities to provide meals to all of the residents during the duration of this crisis.”

  The attendees broke out in chatter, and heads nodded their approval. Tommy sensed there was a catch to this grand gesture. He was right.

  Housley continued. “Toward that end, we all need to come together as a community. By eight tomorrow morning, everyone is expected to relinquish all of their foodstuffs, both perishable and nonperishable. We’d like you to deliver them to the café or the juice bar, where association personnel will catalog your contribution and safely store the food. Once the crisis has passed, we will be issuing a special assessment to all residents to cover the costs of reimbursing you for your food.”

  “Hold on,” began a man standing near Tommy. “You want to take all of our food?”

  “No, sir. Please don’t put words in my mouth,” said Housley angrily. “We hope that you, as well as the other members of our community, will willingly and generously contribute your food to be used for those in need. You will be fed, of course, but so will others who may not be as fortunate.”

  “What if I refuse?” the man shot back.

  Tommy’s eyes grew wide. He couldn’t wait to hear the response to this question. Visions of the man standing blindfolded against the marble walls of the lobby, a firing squad awaiting instructions, crossed through his mind.

  “We expect everyone to cooperate in all of the programs we’ve adopted at our emergency meeting. If you don’t, then you shouldn’t expect to reap the benefit of said programs. Have I been clear enough?”

  The attendees began to mumble again, speaking to one another in whispered voices. Tommy knew what Housley meant. Go along
to get along, or suffer the consequences.

  He casually looked over his shoulder at the Magnificent Mile, where people wandered about in idle conversation amidst smoke billowing out of a building in the distance. He wondered if he and Kristi might have a better chance of survival out there as opposed to inside this nest filled with vipers.

  Chapter 5

  Riverfront Farms

  Southeast Indiana

  It had been nearly six months since Chapman Boone had returned to the old homestead at Riverfront Farms. To say he was a world traveler would be an understatement. He was The Weather Channel’s go-to guy when a catastrophic weather event was developing, frequently being placed at ground zero of the coming natural disaster.

  He maintained an apartment residence midway between Atlanta’s Hartsfield Jackson Airport and The Weather Channel’s studios in Northwest Atlanta. His place was nothing more than a glorified hotel room to be used on those rare occasions when he was called into the studio. Otherwise, his travels placed him in mostly empty hotels in the path of a hurricane or near the devastation wrought by tornadic activity.

  His real home, Riverfront Farms, was comforting to him. If one were to conjure up a vision of an Indiana farmhouse for a magazine, the Boone home would be on the cover. Their large, sprawling two-story home with a wraparound porch and numerous bedrooms had evolved over time as the families who lived there grew. Fireplaces were located in every room to provide heat during the sometimes harsh Indiana winters. There were enough bedrooms for guests and family alike, including children who’d long since grown and moved away.

  Sarah Boone followed the traditions of past Boone matriarchs, maintaining each of her children’s bedrooms as if they had gone off to school or, as back in the day, simply to explore. Every time Chapman returned home, he’d walked into his room and it looked exactly the same as when he saw it last, except for a few additions in the form of newspaper clippings or photographs of his exploits reporting on Mother Nature’s temper tantrums.