Gary went over and ripped a large aerial photograph of the plant off the wall. He spread it out on his workstation. Gary pointed at a building towards the bottom of the photo.
“This building here is us,” he said.
At each of the three points of a triangle beyond the plant was a building with power-lines attached. Gary put his finger on each one as he spoke.
“This building here is the terminus of the Western Interconnection, this one is the terminus of the Eastern Interconnection, and this one down here, because they think they are better than everybody else and have to have their own grid, is the terminus for the Texas Interconnection.”
Gary looked up at Beverly waiting for her to realize what she was looking at. She didn’t
“This is the power grid of the United States. Our plant was built here because it puts us at the closest point to all three grids. If you wanted to tie them all together, here is where you would do it, see?” Gary said.
“Okay, So,” Beverly said.
Gary looked at Beverly and knew he had to frame his next words carefully.
“America gets about eighty percent of its power from coal firing plants. With no one to basically shovel coal into those plants, they will shut down, fail within two to three days. The rest of our power, the other twenty percent is made up of other sources, Nuclear, Hydro, Wind, Solar. Some people say that the Nuclear plants could run for about two years before they begin to fail, hydro, wind, and solar could run until parts wore out, so who knows how long. The point is, Bev, the grid is going to go down and the only survivors with any power will be the ones near plants serviced by non-coal plants. Our plant, Tres Hombres, was upgraded to be a repository of the energy that we generate from the twenty percent. It circulates in an underground triangle of five gigawatt superconductive cables and the three grids will draw from it as needed,” Gary said.
Beverly’s eyes began to gloss over and Gary could tell he was losing her.
“I want to prop up the grid for longer than a couple of days, give the ones that remain every chance,” Gary said.
Beverly shook her head. “Gary what are you talking about? When this thing blows over, even if the grid has gone down or… they have stopped shoveling coal into plants, they’ll fix it. I mean there might be blackouts for a while, but…”
Her words trailed off as she saw the leaden look on Gary’s face.
“There won’t be enough people left to do any of that, Bev. Eighty percent of our power is from coal, but ninety-nine percent of the people will be… gone. The ones that are left will be just trying to survive, which is going to be a lot harder to do without power. I need to take what little power will remain, the power circulating here at Tres Hombres, and drip it into the whole grid… give what’s left of humanity a little extra time,” he said.
Beverly stared at him, her mind still not fully grasping the implications of what he was telling her.
“Yeah, but Gary, without the coal plants, the other twenty percent won’t be enough to power the whole country, I mean…”
A cold washed over Beverly as she thought about what was finally dawning on her.
“The demand for power will be next to nothing, Bev. The whole country won’t be sapping the grid. Only the one percent will. Just the survivors,” he said.
Seven
“Oh God, Gary! Mark and Tommy!” Beverly cried. She looked like she was ready to bolt for the door. Gary placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
“The Country hasn’t fallen yet, Bev. This thing… is just getting started, Okay?” Gary said.
The fear and confusion left her eyes and a focus returned. Gary sensed he was reaching her and drove home his encouragement.
“You said your husband was afraid- had a problem going outside, right?” he said.
Beverly looked at Gary and nodded. “P.T.S.D… from the shooting,” she said.
Gary squeezed her shoulders and his voice leveled out to a calming tone.
“Okay, then he is probably locked up tight in the house, right? He is not going to let Tommy out of his sight, so your son is locked up with him. They are probably going out of their heads with worry about you, but you are going to solve that problem when you come tearing up the driveway punting zombies over the roof with that big repair truck outside, right?” Gary smiled.
In spite of herself, Beverly laughed at the thought of zombies flying every which way as she careened into her driveway.
“Alright, there’s the Bev I know. We do a couple of little things then it’s off you go. In the words of the mighty Bruce Campbell, Easy Peasy,” Gary said.
Beverly nodded. “Okay, what do we need to do first?” She asked.
“Right, well first, how much do you know about zombie physiology?” Gary asked.
The blank stare from Beverly gave him his answer.
“Alright, well the first thing you need to know is, you are way smarter than a zombie. It doesn’t matter how smart a person was before, after they turn, all that is gone. Brain function is reduced to hunger and ambulatory activity, okay? You can out-think them in your sleep. But, what they lack in the brain pan department, they more than make up for in persistence. They will come at you and never stop. So, you can slow them down by damaging parts of them, but to stop them, only one thing will do and that is blunt force trauma to the brain housing unit. Are you with me so far?” Gary said.
Beverly swallowed incredulity that a mere few hours ago would have compelled her to utter any number of comments other than the response she now offered. She nodded her head.
“You’re doing great. Okay, now, the other thing you need to know about our Undead friends outside. They won’t try to hit you, kick you, they won’t pick up a bat and take a swing at you or a gun and try to shoot you. They have one form of attack and one only. They will try to eat you. Also, they will not try to block or defend against any attack you make on them. Their chief advantages are overwhelming numbers and a ‘can do’ attitude, okay?” Gary said.
Gary turned and began to scan the room. Seeing some items that looked promising, he headed away from Beverly. Beverly looked down and wrung her hands, trying to rub away the fear and apprehension.
“Hey, Gary. Where did these things come from… how did this all get started, do you think?” she asked.
Gary answered as he busied himself with gathering supplies from around the room.
“Probably in some secure government location, most likely with military involvement,” he said, nonchalantly.
Beverly nodded, accepting his answer as the only facts worth believing. She looked up as Gary approached with an armload of items.
“Okay, Here’s what I figure. We take the foam out of the sofa cushions and with the duct tape we wrap them around our arms and legs, you know for protection, and then-”
Beverly grabbed Gary’s shoulders, cutting off his words.
“Gary! I have to get going, so if we could wrap this up…”
Gary looked at her. “Yeah, right,” he said dropping the items.
He turned and picked up the crowbar and a pair of bolt-cutters. He handed the crowbar to Beverly.
“Now, when we get into the Interconnections, we will see a row of junction boxes. They are going to have padlocks on them, but I don’t know where the keys are, so I got this instead,” Gary said, holding up the cutters.
Beverly looked at the crowbar. “What’s the crowbar for, then?” she asked.
Gary swallowed hard. “In case…” he said.
Beverly looked at the crowbar in her hands then thrust it at Gary and grabbed the bolt-cutters.
“No offense, Gary, but maybe you ought to let me cut the locks… you know…
Gary chagrined and Beverly felt the sting of offending Gary’s manhood. She quickly attempted a salvage.
“I mean, you already took care of Johnson, right, so you already have the bodyguard experience…”
Gary smiled and nodded. “Right. Okay. Once you cut the loc
ks off, I will flip the breakers. We do this all down the line, you cut, I flip and then we get out and on to the next Interconnection. We do this three times then we’re done. Easy Peasy,” Gary said.
Beverly nodded and the two headed for the door. Half way there, Beverly stopped.
“Hey Gary. How do you know all this stuff? About the grid and… the zombies?”
Gary shrugged. “I’m a Nerd. I read stuff.”
Gary turned and with Beverly in tow, they headed for the door.
Gary and Beverly had agreed that they would come out swinging. The exit door leading to the yard had no windows, so they were not able to see what might be facing them once they got outside.
Beverly pulled the door open and they both ran out. Gary yelled and started swinging the crowbar like he was hacking through a wall. Beverly immediately darted for the truck’s driver side door. She stopped and went back to Gary, who began to realize his attacks were unnecessary.
“You okay there, killer?” she asked.
Gary smirked. “Just got a little excited,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“No worries,” Beverly said then went back to the driver’s side.
Gary slumped and made his way down the length of the truck to the passenger side. He reached up for the door and was just about to open it, when from around the front of the truck, a Shuffler in a security guard’s uniform appeared. Gary screamed and swung the crowbar at Carl’s head. The curved end hooked Zombie Carl’s wrinkled gray neck, digging into its flesh and holding fast. Gary tried to get the crowbar loose to no avail. What was once Carl reached out for Gary, his fingers only able to brush at Gary’s face. Gary kept his arms out in front of him, preventing the Zombie from advancing to within lethal range. The two were locked in a stalemate and in their struggle they wandered away from the truck. Gary could not get the crowbar loose to finish the Shuffler off and dared not let go of it for fear of getting chomped. He did the only thing he could do, he screamed.
“Beverly! Help! Bev-!”
Gary kept his eyes locked on the eyes of the Zombie, when he felt the crowbar jerk free from his hands. Instead of the ruined face of Carl, Gary stared into the tense face of Beverly, who stood holding the gore covered bolt-cutters poised above her head, ready for another blow. At their feet, Carl lay unmoving. Beverly reached down and pulled the crowbar loose from Carl’s shredded neck. It came free with a wet ripping sound. She handed the crowbar back to Gary. Gary took the crowbar from her. She was about to say something, when she noticed Gary’s eyes go wide. She turned and saw that all their commotion had attracted the attention of a medium sized horde of the Undead. They advanced upon them. Beverly turned and ran around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver’s side. Gary flung himself into the passenger side and slammed the door.
“Man, that was a close one!” Gary shouted. His face was flush with excitement. Beverly gripped the wheel and tried to catch her breath. As their heart rates settled to just north of 120, they both gazed out the front windshield and their faces sunk.
“I don’t know how close we are going to be able to get to the front doors of the Interconnections so we may need a repeat performance with the bolt-cutters,” Gary said.
“Yeah, but not with the crowbar, okay? Curved end faces away from the zombie. No more “hooking up”, right?” Beverly said.
“Definitely,” Gary said.
As Beverly revved the big engine, a thought occurred to her. She dropped it into drive and hit the gas. The truck lumbered away at a respectable pace, but not towards the Western Interconnection.
“Where are you going?! The Western Interconnection is that way!” Gary shouted.
Beverly kept her hands to the wheel as she sped across the landscape.
“Just trying to thin the herd a bit,” she said as she aimed the truck at a group of Walkers.
There was a tremendous thud as the front end smashed into the Walkers. The truck shuddered and bounced as it first blasted some out of the way and then rolled over others, grinding them into topsoil. Viscera splashed the windshield and Beverly nonchalantly pushed the wipers. Water sprayed the glass and the windshield was scraped clean.
Beverly cranked the wheel and the truck leaned in squealing protest as it circled back and headed for a line of Shufflers. They were all heading towards the control building and their backs were towards the truck. Beverly bit down and pushed hard on the gas. The headlights bathed the Zombies in pale light. Their heads just began to turn as the truck plowed through them. Like a bowling ball scoring a strike, Undead were launched into the air around the truck.
Beverly smiled. “How does that song go? Sometimes you’re the windshield.”
“Sometimes you’re the bug,” Gary countered.
A few more passes with the truck and Beverly had created a substantial Zombie free buffer zone between them and the Western Interconnection building. She cranked the wheel around and headed for the door.
“Alright, Gary. We’re looking good. Just be prepared to get that door open,” Beverly said.
Gary gripped the crowbar and took a breath. Beverly sped up to the front door and hit the brakes. The truck skidded to a stop, the front end inches from the building. Gary jumped out and ran to the door. He reared back and brought the crowbar down hard on the glass panel. The door was reinforced safety glass and the crow bar only knocked a small chunk out of it. Gary continued his assault, knocking small shards away with every strike. Behind him, Beverly stood guard with her back to him.
“I thought you were supposed to be the bodyguard,” she said as Gary continued to wail away at the door.
“If you know a way to cut through safety glass with bolt-cutters, I would love to hear it!” Gary said as he took another swing at the door.
The impact of metal on safety glass began to attract the attention of some of the closer Dead and several turned towards them and began to approach.
“You’re doing fine, Gary and there is nothing to worry about, but anytime now would be great!” Beverly said, her voice rising an octave.
“Just one more!” Gary grunted as he struck the glass and a large chunk fell away. He jammed the curved end into the hole and twisted away the metal strands in the glass. Reaching his hand inside he flipped the deadbolt and the door swung open.
“We’re in!” he shouted. Beverly turned and dived into the building as Gary slammed the door closed behind her and flipped the bolt back to locked.
“Okay, where to now?” Beverly asked.
Gary turned and headed to a short flight of stairs leading to a large open area.
“Down here,” Gary said.
They both took the stairs two at a time. Beverly followed Gary to a row of five large boxes secured with padlocks.
“These?” Beverly asked.
“Cut ‘em,” Gary confirmed.
Beverly took a breath and went to work cutting locks. As the locks fell away, Gary swung open the doors and flipped a series of five switches in each one. Beverly cut the last lock as Gary jumped in front and began flipping the last of them.
“Why wasn’t this done already?” Beverly asked.
“It’s election time next month and State and Federal bigwigs wanted to make it a big photo-op, figured it would be good for votes, you know, look what we’re doing. Like we would just forget they are all one-track minded, bloodsucking parasites, whose only concern is-”
“Gary! That’s great but maybe we can talk about this later?” Beverly interjected.
Gary had finished flipping the switches and had turned to Beverly and given the impression that he was going to take a while on his rant.
“Right, sorry. I hate politicians,” he said as the two raced back to the stairs.
“One-track minded, bloodsucking parasites. Sounds like there is not much difference between zombies and politicians,” Beverly said.
Gary laughed as the mounted the stairs. “Yeah, someone should make a movie where instead of turning into zombies, people get turned i
nto politicians and the only way to kill them is to cut off their revenue. It could be a political thriller,” he said.
The two reached the top and stopped in their tracks. They could see the truck where they left it just inches from the door, but pressed up against the glass were four Zombies.
Eight
“What the hell do we do now, Gary?!” Beverly screamed.
Gary stared slack-jawed at the door. Beside him, Beverly gyrated.
“I mean it’s fine to want to help survivors, Gary, but that means We have to survive long enough to do it!” Beverly cried.
“Let me think!” Gary shouted.
Beverly jumped at his retort and Gary felt bad and tried to placate.
“I’m sorry, Bev. I’ll figure this out,” he said.
He put his fingers to his temples, looking like he was trying to tune in a frequency in his head. Beverly stared at him and expended all her mental energy trying to give Gary the time he needed and not just scream at him to hurry. Finally, Gary’s face lit up and he snapped his fingers.
“Zombies can’t use the stairs!” Gary shouted.
Beverly gasped in relief and grabbed Gary’s hands. Her relief was short lived as she failed to grasp the import that so clearly had impressed Gary. He saw the look on her face.
“On flat level surfaces, Zombies do fine. They can chase you forever, but up and down steep inclines, inclines like stairs for instance, they are no good. Whatever virus reanimates them doesn’t equip them with an advanced set of motor skills,” Gary said.
Beverly squinted her eyes at Gary and shook her head.
“Gary, how do you even know that?” she asked
Gary blanched. “Well, you know, it’s one theory, that has been advanced… in a lot of movies…”
Beverly was a nanosecond away from ape-shit. “What movies, Gary?”
Gary shrugged off the question. “I don’t remember! But I think the theory is sound, and unless you can think of something better—”
“Okay! Fine! What do we need to do?” Beverly said.
Gary turned away, his tone much softer. “Well, we need to open the door and let them chase me down the stairs,” he said.
Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 2): Substation (The Last Stand of Gary Sykes) Page 6