NightFall

by Roger Hayden

  Mila smiled and held his hand. “Or how about we just take a rocket and go into outer space?”

  “I’d liked that,” Rob said with a smile and keeping his eyes forward.

  The Datsun barreled down the mostly open road, nearing the end of their scenic route and edging into a more populated area, closer to their destination. One large green traffic sign indicated that New York City was less than five miles away. They were closing in, determined to face whatever the city had in store for them.

  Big Apple

  From Manhattan to Brooklyn to Queens to the Bronx to Staten Island, New York City was already in a state of disarray. A massive power outage had occurred across all five boroughs in a stunning fashion. Normally busy roads frequented by millions of commuters daily were completely clogged and at a standstill. The same gridlock could be found on the Brooklyn Bridge, the Queens Expressway, and the New Jersey turnpike.

  The vibrancy of Times Square—all its thousands of flashing signs, giant screens, and Broadway ads—diminished in an instant to blank screens. Massive skyscrapers from the Chrysler Building to the Empire State Building to the One World Trade Center were dark. Every office on every floor of every building was without power. Noisy road construction from all over the city, normally blaring from every direction, had stopped, as equipment sputtered, failed and went silent.

  Yankee Stadium, Madison Square Garden, JFK National Airport, the United Nations Headquarters, and every other major landmark, locales known throughout the entire world, was without power. Media centers, publishing companies, public libraries, museums, restaurants, tech firms, schools, hospitals, and prisons all suffered the same fate. The switch had been flipped off. The cord unplugged. But loss of power throughout the city was just the beginning of an immense national nightmare.

  On the ground, the scene was chaos defined. From Times Square to Wall Street, the financial center of the world, everyone faced a crisis similar to that in Nyack, ten times worse. The New York Stock Exchange was in a storm of disarray. Millions of vehicles throughout had just stopped working and the exacerbation among commuters was staggering. Taxi drivers were helpless to explain to their passengers why they weren’t moving. The NYPD struggled to keep up with the mounting chaos. Their backup generators were failing. Nothing seemed to be working—from vehicles to communications—and the department was in a panic.

  Theories abounded after a white flash exploded over the Manhattan skyline at 9:35 A.M. Witnesses saw a clear link between the aerial blast and the sudden loss of power and mobility. The most stunning personal realization, among residents and tourists alike, was the effect on their personal electronics. Cell phones, tablets, laptops, and computers no longer functioned. It was inexplicable and frightening at the same time.

  From Park Avenue to Columbus, most people were in a state of denial. Some rightly suspected an EMP blast, but there were stuck on foot like everyone else.

  Under the towering skyscrapers, oceans of people flooded the streets, leaving vehicles, offices, stores, and schools—desperate to find loved ones and get home. As mass confusion spread, a sizable fleet of Apache and Black Hawk helicopters flew toward the open city skyline.

  “Your orders are to take control of this city before it’s too late,” the Flight Commander’s voice said into the headphones of his pilots.

  ***

  Rob exited I-87 and merged onto Harlem River Drive. He could already see the noticeable increase in traffic ahead, all of it at a dead stop. There were more people—stranded at their cars or wandering around—than both he and Mila could count. They passed Yankee Stadium. It looked empty, but there were hundreds of people outside. It looked to be about eleven or noon, by Rob’s estimate. His watch no longer worked.

  Mila’s concern and impatience grew the closer they got into the city. She kept a close eye on their map for the quickest route to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the eastern edge of Central park. Roads in the city were confusing enough, many of them narrow one-way and only two-lanes.

  “We might have to consider finding a safe place to park and travel the rest of the way on foot,” Rob said, looking ahead.

  Mila studied the map while running her finger along its surface. “If you take Harlem River to Park Avenue, it looks almost to be a straight shot from there to the museum.”

  Rob nodded and pulled to the right shoulder of the highway to avoid a stopped line of vehicles. People, it seemed, were growing more aggressive by the hour. A half mile ahead, two large men blocked their path and waved him down. Rob continued his steady pace.

  Mila looked up. “Be careful,” she said.

  “Relax,” Rob said. “They’ll move.”

  The Datsun got closer and the men hadn’t moved an inch. They shouted for Rob to stop.

  “Rob…” Mila said, clutching the dashboard.

  “Don’t worry,” Rob said. His eyes were locked ahead—unwavering.

  “Pull over!” the man on the left shouted.

  His friend gave up and moved out of the way.

  Twenty feet away and getting closer, Rob stared back into the face of the remaining man’s stubborn defiance.

  Inches, away Mila screamed and closed her eyes just as the man jumped onto a nearby guardrail. The Datsun’s front end clipped his leg as he leapt. Rob didn’t slow one bit. He didn’t even look back.

  Mila slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to the back window. The man was standing up and brushing his jeans off.

  She whipped her head around to Rob. “Don’t ever do something like that again!”

  “What else am I supposed to do? Let them steal it?”

  “You need to be more careful, especially after we get the kids,” she said

  Rob shrugged. “We have to be prepared for more encounters like that. Once we get to the city, it’s a guarantee.”

  She pointed her finger at him. “You’re not hitting anyone with this car. Do you understand?”

  Rob glanced in the rear-view mirror and nodded. They continued on, getting closer to the Park Avenue exit. A blurry line of vehicles rushed by the tinted windows. Face upon face turned to watch them pass. They were in an uncompromising spot and woefully outnumbered. Harlem and Madison Avenue. That’s where they needed to be. He wanted to find a parking garage. Someplace safe and out of sight.

  “Imagine that,” he said. “We can park anywhere we want and we won’t get towed.”

  Mila looked at him unamused. “Well, I’m glad you can find some humor in this terrible situation.”

  “Me too,” he responded.

  They went off exit 34, Manhattan and Queens, driving to the side of two lanes, avoiding all the cars in the way.

  “Hold on,” Rob said, taking a sharp turn over a median to their right. Mila clutched the door’s armrest as the car bounced up and sparked as the tail end came down and hit the pavement.

  The hit was jarring, like going over a speed bump too fast, but Rob maintained control and veered the car off the exit and onto the street. He glanced to the side and saw hordes of people standing around, near vehicles, attentively watching him drive by.

  Mila looked around trying to get her head right. The museum was a few blocks away along the congested streets before them.

  Rob took another sharp turn down an empty alleyway between two abandoned buildings. He drove past a large green dumpster and several crates, coming to the back entrance a three-story parking garage—just what he was looking for. They coasted past the unmanned guard shack and up to the second floor, where he slid into a space along a row of other parked cars.

  “What is this? How’d you know about this spot?” Mila asked, catching her breath.

  “Just a hunch,” Rob said. “I still remember some places to park around here.” He shut off the engine and put the keys in his pocket. “So I guess it’s on foot from here.”

  Mila nodded.

  “Do me a favor,” Rob said, pointing. “Could you check the radio again, please?”

  Mila opened the glove
box and pulled out the emergency radio. They repeatedly had tried to get a working frequency during the drive, but had failed. Nothing but static for miles. Rob took the radio, cranked the knob and turned the dial slowly as the speaker crackled and hissed.

  “Come on…” he said impatiently. “This is ridiculous. Surely the government put measures in place to protect emergency broadcasting.” At the height of his frustration Rob heard a high-pitched emergency tone.

  “Massive power grid failure along the east coast…” a faint voice said over the radio.

  “We got something!” Anxious, Rob held the radio up and closer to his ear.

  “Residents advised to stay indoors… utility companies are working with government officials to fix issues…”

  The signal disappeared again. “Damn it,” he said, setting the radio to the side. And looked at Mila. She was nervous and fidgety.

  He took her hands in his. “We’re halfway to our goal. All we have to do is get the kids and get back here.”

  A slightly-forced smile came across her face.

  “You have your gun, right?” Rob asked.

  Mila patted her side. Rob pulled his Beretta from under the seat and pushed it into his pocket. “Let’s do this,” he said, pulling the bottom of his short-sleeved plaid shirt over his pocket.

  They stepped out of the car and closed their doors. The sound echoed throughout the quiet garage. Rob circled the car, inspecting the tire pressure and searching for leaks. Everything looked good. The last thing they wanted was to be stranded in the city, helpless as everyone else.

  “Ready?” Rob asked Mila, standing up.

  Mila flashed a resolute expression. “You bet.”

  Rob took her hand and they walked down the parking garage ramp to the first floor where there foot journey would begin. They emerged from the parking garage onto a sidewalk which led to Park Avenue.

  The path ahead looked on troublesome. Businesses seemed to be closing their doors and the streets were full of people and growing by the minute. Hordes had taken up residency on sidewalks, at bus stops, and anywhere they could find shade and rest. The seeds of discontent and lawlessness were planted and looked ready to germinate.

  Rob pushed through the crowd while keeping Mila close. He kept his eyes forward, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Most of the crowd moved in unison down Park Avenue in the same direction as Rob did his best to maneuver through.

  A group of police officers rode by on bicycles, trying to keep the roads clear and maintain some semblance of order. They had resorted to the basics—air horns, to maintain crowd control. People demanded all sorts of answers to why the power was off, and why their vehicles and cell phones weren’t working.

  The police had little to tell them. “Interference,” they answered. It was “a temporary glitch.” The utility companies were working to get everything back on-line.”

  The situation was becoming more heated by the minute. People bumped against Rob and Mila time and time again. A lanky, haggard-looking man with a beard and dirty ball cap, grabbed Mila’s arm mumbling to her. His breath reeked of alcohol. Mila yanked her arm away and kept walking. A string of profanity then came from the man’s mouth in her wake.

  “Keep moving. Just a few more blocks,” Rob said.

  Swarms of people blocked their way from all direction. They were packed in tightly among the crowd and it was hard to breath. Rob pushed on, longing for the cabin. Mila kept her hand over her pocket where she could feel the bulge of her revolver.

  They crossed a pedestrian walkway to the next block, at a corner store. As they passed, a voice shouted from inside as a man came running out with a carton of cigarettes tucked under his arm and a sixty-four ounce beers in each of his hands. The store owner, a heavyset Indian man with a mustache, ran outside and chased the man. Rob in Mila froze as the shoplifter headed right into their path.

  “Stop! You!” the storekeeper shouted. He pulled a pistol from his jacket and fired six shots in rapid succession, taking down the fleeing man. The bottles shattered on the pavement. Mila screamed and threw herself against Rob.

  Rob crouched down, pulling Mila with him. The shoplifter collapsed right in front of them, riffled with bullet holes. The storekeeper approached, gun in the air. Mila glanced downward. The man lay dead on his side with one leg over the other. His arms were out, his eyes closed, and his mouth open.

  The storekeeper went pale with disbelief. “I told him to stop,” he said. “Why did he not listen?”

  “Come on,” Rob said to Mila, standing. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They held each other’s hands tightly and moved on. The bicycle cops were quick to the scene following the echo of gunshots. They shouted at the storekeeper to drop his weapon. A large group of people had gathered around, paying the scene no mind, even with the sounds of the police tackling the storekeeper to the ground.

  “Only a few more blocks,” Rob said.

  A sign for the museum was in view. Two sophisticated women walked by them trying to explain to each other why their phones weren’t working. “Maybe it’s just a bad reception area,” one of them said, holding her phone.

  “I don’t know what the hell’s going on. Terrorists?” another man said to his friends as they walked by.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, dude,” his friend said.

  “EMP,” another one said. “I’ll bet you a million bucks.”

  The words caught Rob’s ears.

  Approaching the museum, they crossed over to Madison Avenue and took East 84th Street. The regal stone building with Greek columns lined up at the entrance was a welcome sight. The overflow of people coming outside made Rob’s heart jump. He squinted to search for any sign of Josh and Kelly. It was impossible to tell anyone from anyone else.

  “Where do you think they are?” Mila asked. The three-story metropolitan building was massive in size, and they had a lot of ground to cover.

  “I’m sure their teachers have kept the classes together for the time being. A power outage in a museum isn’t the end of the world. No reason for panic among the students.”

  As they got closer to the front entrance, they noticed that most of the doors were closed; only a few remained open. A considerable amount of security guards manned the doors, and it appeared that they weren’t letting anyone in.

  “Come on,” Rob said, running ahead. “We don’t have much time.”

  They charged up the steps of the entrance, dodging around people leaving, and tried to push their way through. Rob had lost Mila’s hand and turned back to find her. She was struggling to get up the stairs, pushing through an angry batch of people denied entrance.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” one loud-mouthed dirty-looking man shouted at her as she tried to push by.

  Rob went back down a few steps and tried to make some space for her to get through. He took her hand and walked up a couple steps, shouting, “We’re looking for our children!” His pleas only did so much, but it was just enough that people began to let him push past, all the way up to the platform entrance, where security guards manned two open doors.

  “My children are on a field trip here,” Rob said to the first, blue-uniformed security guard. “We need to find them.”

  The thirtyish security guard showed little sympathy for Rob’s plight. There were simply too many people making demands to get inside, and he had heard it all. “Sir, in light of current events, we’re temporarily closing our doors for the safety of our staff and of our artifacts. It’s standard protocol.”

  Rob tried to push his way through. The guard grabbed his arm as other security guards stepped closer, ready to act. “I’m not leaving without my son and daughter, do you hear me?” Rob shouted. “They came here on a field trip. Do you still have any school children in there?”

  The guard looked unsure, and didn’t respond.

  “You don’t even know, do you?” Rob asked. “That’s why you have to let us in.”

  The guard raise
d his hand, blocking Rob. “Sir, I can’t allow that.”

  “Let me in!” Rob shouted.

  Suddenly a woman came out of the building wearing a long dress, her hair pinned-back in a bun. She called for the guards to wait and examined Rob through her glasses. “I’m a teacher!” she shouted. “And this man is right. We have three grades still in the building. There’s a good chance his children are among them.”

  Rob looked back at the guard.

  The guard looked his partner, who nodded in agreement. “Make it quick,” he said to Rob.

  They walked inside as Rob shook the teacher’s hand. “I’m Rob Parker, and this is my wife, Mila. We’re looking for our son, Josh, and daughter, Kelly. They’re in the sixth and eighth grades.”

  The teacher thought to herself carefully, distracted as further unrest was grew steadily outside the museum. “We have classes from all three grades in here. No one has been released yet, so there’s a good chance they’re still in here.”

  “Good,” Rob said.

  The museum lobby was dark as night inside. The staff was already hard at work locking the place up. Rob assumed that with thousands of priceless artifacts, artwork, and sculptures, they weren’t taking any chances.

  “I’m Mrs. Ramsey,” the teacher said. She then turned down a long, darkened corridor. “This way, follow me.”

  Operation Urban Breach

  The security in and around the “Met” was at its most heightened. Spectators pushed past Rob and Mila with guards hastily escorting patrons toward the exits. The vast dome-like ceiling raised on pillars high above. Mrs. Ramsey stayed close and led the way past museum wings and cultural exhibits. Under normal circumstances, Rob would have enjoyed the private tour, but ancient artifacts were the furthest thing from his mind.

  They passed an Egyptian wing spotlighting the famous Temple of Dendur monument. Sunlight poured into the exhibition room from the long, angled windows, from floor to ceiling. Staff members entered the room and quickly pulled down shutters, blocking out the sun and darkening the room. Mrs. Ramsey led Rob and Mila down a hall passed several exhibition rooms.