by ML Banner
But R.T. is different… was different.
She replayed in her mind, the moment she said goodbye, touching her lips as she did.
Together, they released the first escape module, sending out four of their comrades. Then, the remaining two and finally Melanie started to enter the second module, when she turned to find his face in front of hers.
“Make it a good life. They’ll need you more than ever now,” he said just loud enough to be heard. “It was a pleasure knowing you.”
She didn’t know what possessed her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips. “Thank you.” It was all that she could muster, before he stepped back and closed the hatch, but she could see his face had changed. It was still a face of determination, but also happiness.
The ISS was now a faint dot in space, unremarkable except for the feelings she left behind.
“Lieutenant?” a distant voice.
Make it a good life.
“Lieutenant?” Conrad’s voice from behind, pulled her back to the reality. “How much buffeting do you think we should endure before pulling the chute?”
It was a good question, and one that she didn’t quite know how to answer, even with her advanced degrees. However, she knew it would come to her, at the right moment. She knew it, because she was sure they were going to survive this. To hell with your mental computations, she thought to herself. Even if the odds were one in a million, she would bet on the one. She knew they would make it now. A smile formed on her lips. They were the lips she just shared with another, and they would be shared again.
“Not much longer now.”
39.
The Letter
Rocky Point, Mexico
Lisa was looking with wonder at all the supplies stacked on the walls. Sally inspected the computer console with admiration. Bill, as directed, reached down below Max’s desk and found a leather satchel with what felt like a large book inside it. He pulled the satchel out and placed it on the desk. “I think this is it,” he spoke triumphantly.
Opening the satchel, he reached in and found a wrapped rectangular object, bound together by leather straps, which he placed on top of the satchel. Pulling on the straps, the leather hide covering loosened. Bill delicately pinched each corner of the covering, pulling it to the side, unfolding its contents. There were two white, recently printed pages on top of a well-worn dark leather journal.
He looked up and found Lisa and Sally both anxiously waiting for him to read.
It was a letter with a giant logo, which looked like Max’s stylized initials, prominently taking up much of the top of the page. It announced, From the desk of Maxwell J. Thompson.
Bill introduced the letter first, “It’s from Max to all three of us.” He then read the letter.
To my family (Bill, Lisa & Sally),
It is with deepest regrets that I am not here to deliver this message to you in person. I am writing this to you with a heavy heart, knowing I cannot be there for you. I received a warning from a not so nice business partner, Luis Ochoa (he runs the largest drug cartel in Northern Mexico) that another drug gang might go after me. I’m guessing that by your reading this, I am either dead or taken captive.
I am hoping I was able to share some of my knowledge about what is now occurring around us, but in case I wasn’t able to, let me explain this to you now. Our Earth was hit with a devastating series of coronal mass ejections or CMEs, leading up to a massive one today. We’ll call this The Event, and it presumably happened after I wrote this. I knew this was coming, but no one was sure exactly how bad it would be, and most would have only suspected this to be a one-time event. Nevertheless, here is a bullet point list of what I believe will happen worldwide:
● All power will be out – All power grids fried. This will be permanent and most likely will last the rest of your natural lives.
● All 20th & 21st technology will be destroyed – from the internet to any solid state circuit. Anything you turn on, and many things you don’t will be neutered. Some will explode, melt, or catch fire. So leave all your electronics in your safe room as I instructed.
● Millions will be electrocuted - Any conductive material, while the magnetic waves from a CME are being dispersed, maybe electrified. This includes the ocean, so be wary.
● There is not enough food & water available for everyone as our system of delivery of all our processed food, water, & medicine has been inexorably destroyed. Because of this, what follows is most important if you want to survive this…
● The world around you, including most of the people you know, will die. This may sound really harsh, but it is the absolute truth. Deal with it now, so you won’t make the wrong choice later.
● Many people, including those you may call friends, if they do survive, will kill you to get at what I am going to tell you next.
As you know, I have prepared for this event, but you don’t know to what extent. This workshop/office is stocked with guns, ammo, and other non-food supplies. Across the street, you’ll find my warehouse. It is built to look like a regular house but it actually contains enough food, water, and other supplies for all four of us for the next two plus years. I have left attached to this letter instructions and inventory for accessing all the important areas of this beach house and the warehouse. Bill already has key to both.
It is worth noting again for your own safety, you CAN NOT tell ANYONE about any of this. If you even hint at this, you will be murdered for this information. I’m not just speaking about bad guys. I am saying everyone is your enemy from now on. Within a matter of one to two weeks, the food supply will run out for everyone in Rocky Point. Most will turn to the sea, which if not electrified, will sustain many, but there will not be enough for everyone, including most of our American friends who don’t have the skills to survive in this land. Because of the lack of clean water and no way to wash or to pump sewage, diseases will follow. You must keep everyone away from your home and this home. That means, you will (NOT MIGHT) have to shoot even a neighbor to save your life. That is what the guns are for.
The lone exception to this is Miguel Fernandez, his wife, Maria, and soon to be born baby. Miguel has helped me enormously and if he or his wife show up, please take them in. Miguel has helped me move supplies to this house from my ranch in northern Mexico.
Do not drive your truck or my Jeep around. It will be one of the few vehicles that work because it uses a points ignition system. The first bad guy that hears you coming will shoot you dead to take your vehicle. This should be held for an emergency only. If the house is overrun, and you can escape, I have provided you with a map so you can go to a place I have secured for you in Colorado. You’ll find these instructions in the leather book, including the notes of its original owner, my great, great, grandfather, Russell P. Thompson III.
I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I suspect that the power will not go back on in our lifetimes. That is because I believe the CMEs will continue for years and years, and our magnetosphere which has protected us so far is breaking down, allowing more of the damaging plasma to get through and continue to induce electromagnetic waves throughout our atmosphere: This is what screws up our radio, internet, and solid-state circuitry. Additionally, you’ll need to watch out for radiation and UV light from the sun, which will be many times as intense as it is now. I suspect you will see a rapid increase in skin cancer on those who survive the first year. Cover up when you’re outside.
I won’t lie to you. The life you will now live will be the hardest you have ever experienced. But, you should be able to survive with what I left you. I have faith in you, your abilities, and your love for each other.
I lost my faith when I went to war and had to kill people for my country. The cause was right, but I started to doubt God’s existence, and about whether we are anything more than ants to a creator. Your family has brought me hope and love, and with it, the faith that I lost so many years ago.
I pray that you strive to persever
e, even when you will want to give up, that you support one another, and that your love for one another grows. Most of all, survive, for me.
I pray that I will see you again during this life. However, if I don’t, I pray that it will be long before we meet again on the other side of death.
God’s peace.
Your friend always,
Max
40.
CMERI
Salt Lake City, Utah
The reflection of a solitary figure grew in the polished glass of CMERI’s front door. A man with features wrinkled from a lifetime of too little sleep, crowned by gray hair and a fedora, sporting a full grey beard more common to men of a century ago, stopped arm’s length from the handle. Pulling a single page and masking tape from a leather saddle bag he wore like a backpack, he quickly pasted the page to the door and stepped back. He considered his immediate work and its message. Then he gazed admiringly at his lifetime of work, represented by this building. He would probably never see his building again. A lifetime of work was completed. Now time to move on to his next two jobs: surviving and getting to Cicada.
He turned and walked with purpose to a recumbent delta trike parked in the middle of the complex’s private driveway. There was no fear of blocking traffic that would never come again. He mounted the seat and pulled down on the fedora’s brim, to keep the winds from taking it. Pushing forward he began his next journey, the long pedal of over five hundred miles from Salt Lake City to Boulder, Colorado. He was thankful the world ended during the summer.
The page taken from his stationary at home usually carried a Trebuchet font. On this one, he had written by hand in careful block writing.
From the Desk of Dr. Carrington Reid
THE END HAS ARRIVED. ALTHOUGH I HAVE BEEN PREDICTING THIS DAY WOULD COME, EVEN I WAS UNPREPARED COMPLETELY FOR ITS ARRIVAL.
WE EXPERIENCED A WORLDWIDE MULTIPLE CME EVENT. OUR SERVERS, AND WE BELIEVE, EVERY COMPUTER IN THE WORLD, EVEN THOSE WHICH WERE PROTECTED, HAVE BEEN DISABLED OR DESTROYED. ALL ELECTRONICS, INCLUDING ALL SENSORS AND TESTING EQUIPMENT HAVE BEEN RENDERED INERT.
CMERI’S EXISTANCE SERVES NO FURTHER UTILITY, SO WE HAVE CLOSED INDEFINITELY AND HAVE LEFT TO BE WITH OUR FAMILIES.
MOST SCIENTISTS, LIKE ME, ARE OUT OF A JOB. THE SKILLS WE LEARNED ARE NO LONGER NEEDED IN THIS WORLD. I WISH I KNEW HOW TO FARM OR HUNT. IT MAY BE AT LEAST A GENERATION OR TWO, BEFORE WE CAN START USING 21ST CENTURY TECHNOLOGY AGAIN.
I AM GOING TO TRY TO MAKE IT TO COLORADO, TO AN EXISTING COMMUNITY OF HAND CHOSEN INDIVIDUALS WHOM I BELIEVE WILL HAVE THE RESOURCES AND KNOWLEDGE TO REBUILD OUR SOCIETY.
IF ANYONE READS THIS, I’M SORRY I DIDN’T DO MORE TO WARN MORE PEOPLE TO PREPARE. I TRIED.
GOD BE WITH US ALL,
DR. CARRINGTON REID,
FORMER DIRECTOR, CMERI
41.
Powerless
9 Days A.E.
Rocky Point, Mexico
The auroras were gone for a full day now and it was dark out. The first total darkness they had experienced since the auroras started. The sky was a carpet of stars and nothing else. The length of the beach, usually lit up like a Christmas tree in December, was as dark as the night. They could still hear occasional gunfire, but it was otherwise silent.
The Kings were careful not to turn on or use any electronic devices, in case there were any induced currents lurking around. Before plugging anything into the house’s electrical line, Bill used a current tester to test the line: Nothing. Although Max warned them that their solar panels would be slightly degraded because of the solar storms, he said they should work, if the storms passed. However, it was dark now, and the panels would provide no help for the next test. Feeling safe, Bill pulled the batteries stored in their safe room and connected them in parallel to the incoming line from the solar panel’s control box. Max said they had been fully charged a month ago, so they should still be holding a charge. The other batteries hooked up to the system during the Event were already fried.
They each plugged in a couple of lights around the house. Lisa and Sally stopped in the kitchen, lit by candlelight, they held their collective breaths and both had their arms out and fingers crossed, with expectant expressions on their faces. Bill walked outside to the circuit panel, just outside their patio door. There was nothing more to be said, so Bill flipped the switch.
The lights flickered, and then they turned on.
Like a beacon of an old lighthouse casting it’s light out to sea, the light from their house cut through the blanket of darkness inside and out, sending beams of brightness seemingly everywhere.
All the Kings yelled in excitement, jumping up and down, and holding onto each other.
Bill was ecstatic. This was it. Maybe many lives would eventually go back to some sort of normal. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as Max had told them.
Air conditioning. Computers. Cold beer.
It might take a long time to restore what was lost, and undoubtedly many will still die, but maybe, just maybe, it would be something like what they had before.
Bill kissed Lisa, knowing she had similar thoughts.
The lights blinked. Then they flickered. Then they went out, this time for good.
They all stopped just as abruptly, frozen in place, afraid to move an inch.
They waited.
There was silence and stillness all around them. Even the waves barely moved. It was a quiet that seemed unfamiliar.
Two of the lights they had just plugged in popped, their bulbs exploding outward. This sudden noise startled all three of them, especially Bill who was standing closest to one of the two.
Then they heard something, a strange noise coming from the distance. With the noise came a bluish light, then more orange-like, and now green. This light, along with the noise, was coming from outside the house.
Like zombies from a bad movie, they all started moving in slow motion, ambling towards the large patio door leading to the beach. They held hands, bound together to face what waited for them outside.
Once through the doorway, they all looked up to the sky, walking still further.
Streaks of colors, bisected by rivers of multiple colors, and muted wispy clouds undulated like waves towards them in the sky. The colors were in concert with a strange whooshing sound, like a breeze.
It then occurred to all of them that the lights might never turn on again. As Max had told them all in his letter, this was the worst-case scenario. The sun would forever send massive electro-magnetic pulses into the atmosphere, generation after generation, rendering all electronics useless.
This was the new normal.
They would forever reside in a new Stone Age.
42.
July 5th, 1860
Denver City, Sanatorium
Russell Thompson reached over and opened up the drawer of the wood table beside his bed. With his bandaged left hand, he pulled out a leather-bound notebook given to him by his mother years ago. With his uninjured right hand, he loosened the leather binding ties and opened the book for only the third time. He glanced at the first page’s inscription, The adventures of Russell P. Thompson III. His deceased mother had written this in careful script. He beamed at the memory of his mother giving him this book when he was a teenager, after announcing that he was going to travel the world as an explorer. His father never tempted his desires, calling them, “fodder for idlers.” His mother rejoiced in his ambitious desires of travel, adventure, and prospecting.
Skipping past a page of writing to the next was a drawing of a cicada. He drew it a week ago; meticulously studying and copying in pen one of the millions of those flying around him. It was a sign of his rebirth. A cicada first comes out of the ground every decade or so before being reborn to fly. Similarly, his crushed body had come out of over ten months of therapy. He was in his larvae state before coming out of his hospital bed, reborn. Now he was ready to take flight.
He turned back to the second page again to see his nearly illegible scrawl from t
he first time he cracked open the journal. It was titled, “The road paved with gold,” followed by the carefully written block letters, “GSV EVRM LU TLOW SRWWVM FMWVI Z XLOOVXGRLM LU KROVW ILXPH, DSRXS SZW ML VZIGSOB KOZXV YVRMT GSVIV, RM GSV HGIVZN YVW, 143 KZXVH WFV HLFGS LU GSV YRT OLZM KRMV LM GLK LU GSV SROO ZH HVVM UILN GSV XSVIIB XIVVP XZNK”. Below this, he had written in the same careful block letters, “USE ATBASH.”
He didn’t need to study the letters using the Atbash cipher he had used to write those words from the tip. The words were already committed to his permanent memory, “The vein of gold hidden under a collection of piled rocks, which had no earthly place being there, in the stream bed, 143 paces due south of the big lone pine on top of the hill as seen from the Cherry Creek Camp.”
It was a reminder of his unfinished purpose. He turned the page, past the drawing, this time forcefully and with his good right hand started to write:
5 July, 1860
I can no more explain how I am alive, than I can of waking up in this Denver City sanatorium bed, the very same bed of a dying man who gave me my very reason for coming to Colorado, seemingly a lifetime ago. I should be dead. This I know for certain. There is no logical reason for my survival. Yet here am I, convalescing from burns, which I fear will forever remind me of that event, barely ten months previous. I remember feeling the heat and the pain and then blackness. After waking up a fortnight later, my attendants told me what had transpired. I was one of a multitude who were injured that morning. Many perished, perhaps even my friend Pete who accompanied me on this trip. I am certain he was more than a vision from that faithful day. I had thought destiny had turned against me as some sort of punishment.