by W. B. Martin
When initial word had been received of the major Coronal Mass Ejection aimed at Earth, Idaho Power had pulled the plug. That is, they shut the system down and disconnected as much as they could. This saved much of the system from the overloads that could destroy components.
Along with equipment hardening, this effort had saved much of the state’s power system. It was kept shut down while the sun continued to throw large CMEs at Earth. The Northern Lights that had illuminated Paul’s journey provided the indication as to when the sun would return back to normal.
Once the Northern Lights had disappeared over Idaho, it was assumed that it was safe to bring the grid back on line. Everyone turned to John for confirmation.
“Not to put you on the spot, Dr. Ewing, but are we safe to start things up? Or is the sun likely to hit us again?” the governor asked.
“Not likely, but no guarantee,” John answered. “The last CME event this large was right before the Civil War. Written accounts report the Northern Lights were visible all the way down into Virginia, but back then the only electrical device was the telegraph. The written accounts don’t mention recurring flares, so we can assume that the sun has released its pent-up energy and will settle into a quiet period.”
“But no guarantee? That’s not encouraging,” one of the advisors quipped. “We could get everything back up, only to go through it all again. And this time without the early warning that the satellites provided. They got fried in all this, too.”
“You want a different answer, get a different science advisor,” John threw back. “If you want total assurances, you could take the state back to the 1880s. Or, alternatively, manufacturers could spend a little more money hardening everyday electrical equipment. We got complacent. We wanted our cheap cell phones and cheap plasma TV’s, not worrying one bit about what lurked out there.”
“Gentlemen, I’m sure we’ll look at all those issues in due time. But right now, we’ll take the chance and get the grid back on line. That will go a long way in getting things under control,” the governor said.
“Governor, we need to discuss one more item.” the state Health Officer said. “The policy of detaining people currently on psychotropic drugs. These individuals are not dangerous to society because of their medication, but those supplies will be running out soon. Are we going to locate and detain them prior to them acting out?”
This had been a touchy subject in the past. People with mental disorders that would have required imprisonment in previous years now walked among the general population, due to mind-adjusting drug therapy. But with a lack of a drug supply, to have a person suffering psychotic attacks loose among society was only asking for trouble.
“Yes, we need to review all drug records. General, work with Public Health in locating all those individuals and placing them in confinement.”
Ed acknowledged the order and looked at the Public Health Officer. Paul noticed the Public Health official was genuinely holding back her desire to protest. In liberal states, such action would never even be contemplated. But in Idaho, reality ruled over political correctness. Where political correctness had won the day, people were dying violent deaths from those wrong-headed decisions, Paul thought.
Paul knew that the power couldn’t come back on soon enough for some people. He knew that Type One diabetics were doomed. Once their fragile medicine had gone to room temperature, the shelf life was severely shortened. But that was only one of the issues faced by diabetics. The disabling of factories that had made the medicine meant that once the current supply was gone, diabetics would start dying.
Others that were dependent on modern medicine for continued life would soon follow. Renewed electricity would help kidney dialysis patients, but lack of sterile needles would subject them to infections. Without new antibiotics from those same closed factories, people would die from untreated infections.
In fact, hospitals were generally useless until the whole supportive infrastructure was reestablished. As supplies ran out, doctors were limited to medicine as practiced in the 19th Century. All the modern breakthroughs in medicine were dependent on a highly advanced society. While Idaho and its member states would survive, it would be some time until a modern society could again support such advances.
As the meeting ended, the Idaho governor walked over and shook John’s hand.
“Thanks for volunteering under these circumstances. My Chief of Staff will fill you in on what we need you to do.”
The governor’s Chief of Staff took Dr. Ewing aside and began outlining his new duties. The governor walked to where Paul talked to Amanda.
“Dr. Kendall, I was hoping that you could help me with another matter,” the governor said. “I’m afraid that my liaison for local governments isn’t going to make it back from her vacation. She took a vacation to Peru and was there on P-Day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She was one of my students at ISE,” Paul recalled.
“Yes, I hope she finds assistance to survive. But I’m in need of someone to take her place until she makes it back to us,” the governor lied. Paul knew the chance of his assistant ever being seen again were slim to none. “I had hoped that you had a bright young person that could fill in.”
“Governor, let me introduce Amanda Savage. She is one of my former star students who just happens to be the assistant to the Meridian mayor at present. We were just about to give her a lift out there.”
“Ms. Savage, a pleasure. If I clear it with the Mayor, can you switch your duties and help us out?”
“Governor, if my mayor says fine, it would be an honor to serve the state in whatever function you need,” Amanda responded.
The governor was buttonholed by another advisor and was led away on another pressing problem.
“Thanks, I think,” Amanda said to Paul as they headed to the exit.
“I’m sure the transfer is just a formality. Meridian is not about to say no to the governor in this situation,” Paul said.
Paul and Amanda met up with John and all three headed to the old Chevy. As they walked toward the car, Paul and John fell behind Amanda. Paul quietly said to his brother, “John, before heading back to Bruneau I want to check on my ex-wife. I need to be able to tell the kids she’s OK.”
They left the secure parking lot of the State Capitol Building and headed up 8th Street toward the Boise Hills Drive. When Paul’s ex-wife had left for greener pastures two years ago, she had almost immediately hooked up with an investment banker from one of the big firms out of New York City.
Susan had finally reached the wealth threshold that had eluded her from being married to a college professor. The big house on the hill overlooking Boise was her new perch to survey all that she had accomplished.
Paul gave directions to John as they climbed the hill through homes of ever-increasing size and opulence. They finally reached a quiet cul-de-sac built on a ridge high above the city. Paul motioned to pull into a driveway.
A large stucco palace of a house with a tile roof loomed over them. A four-car garage was open and the cars were still in their place. Susan’s boyfriend collected vintage cars and the two extra spots held a 1968 Mustang almost identical to the fastback model that Steve McQueen had driven in the movie ‘Bullitt’. Right beside that was a 1957 Thunderbird that could have been a copy of the one from the Steven Spielberg movie with Harrison Ford. What was the name of that movie? Paul thought as he climbed out of the car. Paul looked in both cars and realized that they must have both been updated with new electronics, otherwise they would be gone.
His mind avoided the coming encounter with his ‘ex’. Thinking about old movies helped with the transition, as Paul walked up and noticed that the front door was open. It had been busted in, the casing hanging where the dead bolt had torn the wood off the wall.
Paul hesitated. This wasn’t good, he thought. He called for anyone as he stepped into the large two-story foyer. He froze.
Hanging in front of him was the bloated body of Susan’s bo
yfriend. At least it looks like him, he thought. From the look of things, he had been put into a noose tied to the chandelier and tossed off the upper balcony.
He had definitely been tortured before being thrown off the second floor. Someone very angry had taken care to inflict as much pain on this guy before ending it, Paul thought.
Then Paul saw the scrawling on the walls. ‘Blood sucker’, ‘scum’, ‘thief’, ‘where’s our money?’, ‘Helter Skelter’, ‘die scum’ and ‘bastard’ were some of the less profane words written in spray paint. Obviously some of the clients of this investment banker had sought revenge from the 2008 economic collapse that had taken the United States closer to the brink.
Then the smell hit Paul. The decaying body fouled the whole house. Paul pulled his shirt up over his nose as he carefully moved further into the house. He was scared of what he would find in the further recesses of the large house.
Paul checked the first floor and found no more bodies. He headed up the rear stairs to avoid the grisly sight in the front. Checking the numerous bedrooms confirmed that all the rooms had been trashed. Broken debris was strewn everywhere.
Entering the master suite through two large French doors, Paul held his breath. The stench was overpowering as he walked into the massive room overlooking the magnificent view of Boise. Paul paid no attention to the sights and focused on following the smell emanating from the bathroom. He pushed the door open and suddenly wished he hadn’t.
The woman that he had once loved and that had given birth to his two children was barely recognizable. Paul turned and vomited on the floor as the disturbed flies buzzed around him. He almost collapsed on his knees as the strength in his body left him shaking.
He stepped into the hallway to an open window to take in some fresh air. He stood and thought about the people that would do this sort of thing. Paul had also been outraged at the Federal bailouts given to Wall Street in the wake of the supposed ‘banking crisis’. As a trained economist, Paul knew that the Federal government had set the banks up to fail by allowing them to change from highly regulated banks into high-flying investment banks.
Wall Street had taken greed to an extreme. When their house of cards had begun to collapse, they had run to Washington, D.C. to get handouts for their excesses. Hardworking Americans lost billions while Wall Street recovered their losses. It was criminal what had been done in the name of ‘saving the banking system’.
Paul had spent many days explaining to his students that the basis of ‘capitalism’ was that it was a system of rewards and punishments. If someone had a better idea and succeeded wildly, they were entitled to keep the majority of their earnings. But on the other hand, if someone acted on stupid ideas and lost, they should be forced to accept their losses.
That was what kept everyone honest and careful. The risk of losing everything was the key to capitalism. When that risk was removed by interfering governments, then people naturally extended their risk out to infinity. At least the big, well-connected risk takers continued, Paul thought. No one helped out the small investor with their losses.
But now Paul stood in the blowback of those government interruptions in the market. He sure didn’t condone what had happened here, but he definitely understood the rage.
He even carried a set of playing cards that spoke volumes of his understanding of his ex-wife’s murder. Following the example of the Iraq War Criminal Playing Cards, someone had manufactured a set labeled, ‘American Treason Playing Cards’.
But instead of Saddam Hussein and his fellow minions being on each playing card, the image of the people responsible for America’s financial collapse had been printed. Individuals like Hank Paulson, Bush’s Treasury Secretary, and Ben Bernanke, Fed Chairman, were just two of the fifty-two people highlighted. Paul especially liked Barney Frank, Congressional Finance Chairman, as the Queen of Hearts.
While these two bodies were not part of the fifty-two listed culprits, they were the result of angry Americans seeking revenge. And from the looks of the wall safe sitting open and empty in the bedroom, Paul surmised that the perpetrators had sought retribution in many forms from their investor.
Paul turned to leave and ran into a very distraught woman in the hall.
“Amanda, I told you to stay in the car. What are you doing up here?”
“Who is that person? What happened?” Amanda asked, as tears were running down her cheeks. “Is there someone else in there?”
“Don’t go in there. We need to get out of here right now,” Paul said as he led her down the back stairs. They went out the back door and walked around the outside of the house to avoid the front foyer.
Paul led Amanda to the car and then turned to look around at the other houses on the dead-end street. All of them had their front and garage doors open with assorted debris strewn over the front lawns.
“Please wait here, Amanda. I just want to check a couple of the other houses,” Paul said.
He quickly ran to some of the other houses and looked inside. He sprinted back to the car and said to his brother, “Let’s go, John. There’s nothing we can do here.”
“Do the other houses look like this one?” Amanda asked.
“Worse,” was all Paul said. He didn’t elaborate with details. Some of the other homes had children that had been victims to the class warfare so evident in this neighborhood. The Democrats had used class envy to stir the public into class warfare when it came to taxes. Now the results of that rhetoric came home to roost in the deaths of the wealthy.
“Worse. How could it be worse than what I saw?” Amanda asked. Her voice trembled in fear as she said it.
“Trust me, it’s worse. Don’t ask me to explain. You’ve already seen more than you should have,” Paul said.
“I’m afraid we’re going to see a lot of this,” John said. There was a tone of resignation and determination in him as he said it.
Chapter 9
Eugene, Oregon
At the same time, three hundred miles to the west, events were playing out very differently from those in Boise. Eugene, Oregon was a mid-sized university town at the head of the Willamette Valley. Pioneers had crossed the country in covered wagons to settle its broad valley in the 1800s.
Productive farms and industrious communities had grown along the length of this fertile region. With a moderate climate and good soils, western Oregon became the center of population for the large state. Combined with timber from the vast swaths of towering Douglas Fir trees, wealth had gathered in the three principal cities of Portland, Salem and Eugene.
But things began to change in the 1980s. The wealth that had grown a robust economy had been attacked by liberal elements in the state. First tree cutting was reduced and then almost eliminated. Then ocean commercial fishing was curtailed. Soon ranching was deemed to be destructive to the environment by the big city voters who now controlled the state.
A wave of industry leaving the state for locations less restrictive in environmental and labor regulations didn’t phase the liberals. The joke among many was that their goal was to turn the entire State of Oregon into one large National Park.
High unemployment had plagued the state since the 2008 recession. Many simply enjoyed staying home on the generous benefits handed out by the State and Federal government. Unfortunately, no one offered a policy change to stimulate investment in industry to create jobs.
When ‘the Pulse’ hit, like everywhere, Oregon’s society stopped. Lacking adequate planning or preparation, the state soon succumbed to basic individual survival for the majority of its citizens.
Only in the far eastern and southern counties had any preparation for an emergency been made. There, the local county governments had taken steps to harden the local electrical grid.
But the liberal cities to the west had been busy social engineering. Only the expense on improved bike paths could be considered helpful now, as people soon repaired their old bicycles for transportation.
The first month had seen life
change forever for most people in Eugene. The food supplies were quickly stolen and the gun stores pillaged. When that food ran out, the guns went to work.
But unlike Idaho and other parts of the Intermountain West, Eugene was now in the hands of individuals conditioned by years of government handouts. When the handouts stopped, the same crowd took to the streets to make sure the ‘rich’ people paid their dues to the ‘poor’.
Eugene had been the site of a large ‘Occupy Eugene’ movement. Made up of retired old hippies and radical ex-students from the university, the ‘Occupy’ crowd had demonstrated for months before ‘the Pulse’, against the ‘1%’ who they felt owed the other ’99%’.
Now that societal collapse had arrived, they took their ideology to heart and began a systematic looting of the ‘wealth’ of Eugene. The banks and large companies were the first to burn. Then the shuttered fast food restaurants were found guilty of ‘turning America fat’ and burnt to the ground.
Local police were nowhere to be found, as they stayed home to protect their families. Soon, individual neighborhoods became war zones, as the ‘Occupy’ crowd headed up into the South Hills to extract tribute from the ‘rich’. This led to the few conservative neighborhoods building barricades and setting up defensive zones for self-protection.
John Ewing’s wife, Mary, was in one such neighborhood. After her three children had abandoned her, she sank into despair. She thought of leaving, but by the time she had decided to follow them to Idaho, ‘the Pulse’ had removed that option. Running battles throughout the city kept people hunkered down trying to protect their homes.
In the second week of the mayhem, early one morning, there was a knock at her door. It was one of the neighborhood guards, armed with a rifle. How could this all be happening? she thought as she carefully opened the door. Standing beside the guard was her brother-in-law, Dwight Barnes.