The Geostorm Series (Book 2): Geostorm [The Pulse]

by Akart, Bobby

  Another attendee of the briefing raised his hand to speak. “May I add something, Mr. President?”

  “Of course. And you are?”

  “Nathaniel Arnold with the Department of Energy.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Arnold.”

  The young man gulped and began, “Sir, if I understand correctly, the potential for a geostorm knocking out our grid can come as frequently as twice a week during the peak of a solar cycle like the one we’re in right now. Exactly how often are you going to have to turn the power grid off and then back on again? Also, what kind of toll will that take on the equipment, as well as the psyche of the American people?”

  Nathaniel Arnold’s words hung in the air as everyone in the Situation Room contemplated a world without power.

  Chapter 26

  Outside the White House

  Washington, DC

  Nathaniel Arnold was on cloud nine when he exited the White House and summoned an Uber to drive him the short three miles to the James V. Forrestal Building. Arnold had been a last-minute stand-in for the Energy Secretary, who’d fallen ill and was under a physician’s care for kidney stones.

  Recently divorced right after he turned forty, Arnold had jumped headfirst into the DC dating scene, choosing to look outside the Energy Department for prospective mates. He’d met his first wife at work, and the two found they couldn’t be with each other virtually twenty-four seven.

  He’d met Maxie, an attractive woman nearly fourteen years his junior, who was a research assistant at the Washington Post. The two hit it off and frequently met for drinks at Johnny’s Half Shell, a seafood restaurant just blocks from the Capitol that was known for hosting the political movers and shakers of Washington.

  Arnold really didn’t care much for politics, trying his best to stay out of partisan bickering in the workplace. He was a career bureaucrat and intended to retire that way. Maxie liked to perform research and rarely got involved in the news reporting side at the Post, although recently she’d cozied up to a new hotshot named Eric Bradley, who’d shown more than a passing interest in her.

  Arnold wasn’t aware of Maxie’s interest in the new reporter, as he was smitten with the younger woman. While the two frequently acknowledged they weren’t exclusive, Arnold just assumed that Maxie was as infatuated with him as he was with her.

  In any event, he was very excited to share the news of his contribution to this high-level meeting that involved the president. He recounted the events to his girlfriend and excitedly bragged how he might have an impact on the president’s decision.

  Naturally, Arnold had already told Maxie during their morning pillow talk about his attending the meeting. When she pressed him to disclose the nature of the briefing, he was somewhat aloof, but felt like all of the details would be coming out soon anyway. He wanted to impress her with his importance, and therefore he might have been a little loose with his tongue.

  Now, it’s possible that Maxie kept her promise and didn’t repeat any of Arnold’s words to her coworkers at the Washington Post, especially the secret lover she’d taken on the side—the hotshot reporter.

  But when a headline story came out later in the day on the website of the New York Times that the president was facing an existential crisis that might require him to shut down the nation’s power grid for an extended period of time, Arnold never imagined that the devastating leak came out of his mouth. After all, his girlfriend worked for the Times’ principal competitor, the Washington Post.

  The Uber driver’s wife, however, was on the staff of Maggie Haberman, the White House correspondent for the New York Times.

  Loose lips sink ships.

  Chapter 27

  Teterboro, New Jersey

  Anger and shouting were replaced by fear and praying. Many passengers were gripping their armrests, knuckles white as the aircraft began its slow, prolonged descent into the Teterboro Airport. The captain, seemingly aware of the short runway, had been cleared for a flatter descent that allowed him to slow his airspeed considerably.

  Like many of the passengers who preferred to see their potential demise unfold, as opposed to closing their eyes, waiting for it to be over, Chapman and Isabella monitored their progress through the porthole-sized window adjacent to their row of seats.

  Tension was high between them, but they supported one another as the plane dropped closer to the ground. The closer the aircraft got to the Teterboro runway, the tighter Isabella’s grip became on Chapman’s hand.

  Chapman never relayed the story that he recalled involving a plane crash in Teterboro when he was growing up. A corporate jet had overshot the runway, hurtling off the end toward a busy highway in the midst of morning rush hour. The plane had careened across a culvert, rammed into twenty cars, sending the burning wreckage across the road into a warehouse, where the crew members and passengers calmly walked away.

  Chapman considered using this as an example to calm her nerves, but she was astute enough to know no two plane crashes were alike. And there was a big difference between an eleven-passenger corporate jet and a Boeing 777—big being the operative word.

  The captain brought the aircraft lower to the ground, seemingly grazing the top of the MetLife football stadium at the Meadowlands as he made the final turn into the runway. The aircraft was brought to a near stall as it soared toward landing. It was eye level to a car dealership when the rear wheels touched down just as the runway began.

  Now for the fun part. The captain deployed every available measure to produce rearward thrust after touchdown, rapidly slowing the Boeing 777 as its momentum fought against the pilot’s tactics. Using brakes, spoilers to increase wing drag, and thrust reversers on the General Electric engines, the plane fought to come to a stop.

  Emergency vehicles had gathered on both sides of Runway 19 as the powerful aircraft shuddered and shook, throwing passengers forward in their seats and luggage bins open. A suitcase dislodged from across the aisle where Chapman was sitting and landed on the floor next to him. He bent down to stabilize it, which helped him avoid the laptop computer sailing over his head.

  Isabella wasn’t so lucky. The edge of the laptop landed on top of her thigh, causing her to scream in pain. A scream drowned out by the spontaneous cheer that erupted when the aircraft came to a stop with its front wheels resting in the grass at the end of the runway.

  Chapman immediately turned to check on her. “I’m sorry, I could’ve stopped it.”

  She was rubbing her leg and eased his concern. “I will be fine. It is Charley’s horse.”

  Chapman laughed and kissed her. “Yes, Charley’s horse. Don’t worry, if you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”

  “See, I will let you take care of me,” she said with a smile before becoming serious. “Chapman, how far are we from your home?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. Maybe eight or nine hundred miles?”

  The captain addressed the passengers, interrupting them. “Well, folks, this is Captain Whittaker again from the flight deck. My apologies for the rougher-than-usual landing. This runway is much shorter than what we’re accustomed to with this equipment. Um, we are most likely stuck in place here, but the ground personnel are bringing the portable stairs to help you disembark. You may take your carry-on luggage with you, and the rest of your bags will be available at baggage claim. Again, my apologies for the delay and the adventure at the end. We hope you have a great rest of your day, and thank you for flying American Airlines.”

  Two hours later, Chapman and Isabella were inside the terminal. The chaotic scene inside was not unlike the near-melee that almost took place on board the plane. Thousands of passengers were stranded, angry, and confused. Airport personnel were overwhelmed and getting frustrated as passengers demanded answers they were unable to provide.

  Isabella was able to walk, but she wasn’t able to put full pressure on her leg. As they moved with the throngs of passengers along the concourse, television monitors were turned on to the CNN news feed. They listened to th
e host and his guests opine as to what happened in Europe and how that related to the president’s decision to ground air travel.

  “Our sources with NOAA are confirming that a geomagnetic storm struck Eastern Europe. It immediately impacted the power grids of several countries and spread across the easternmost regions of Europe like a wave, causing cascading power outages.

  “While there has been no official word from the White House as of yet, we do believe that the executive order grounding all air traffic was directly related to this solar activity. Let me turn to our veteran CNN weatherman, Chad Myers. Chad?”

  Chapman led Isabella into a gate area that was relatively empty. Several people were gathered around the television monitor suspended from the ceiling of the terminal. Chapman had experienced charley horses and leg cramping on the farm. He needed to get blood flow to Isabella’s thigh muscle so she could move without causing further damage to her leg.

  “Here, sit and get comfortable,” he began to explain. “I’m going to stretch your thigh muscle and massage it. As I do, flex your foot by rolling it around on your ankle, and then pull your toes toward you. Okay?”

  Isabella smiled and nodded. Chapman removed her shoe and gave her right foot a quick massage. Then, while he rubbed the top of her thigh and gently massaged the muscle, being careful not to cause her any pain, he monitored the CNN broadcast.

  “Reports from the European Space Agency and NASA have confirmed that a G1 geomagnetic storm struck an area near Central Romania.”

  The host interrupted Myers and asked him to explain for the viewers how these geomagnetic storms develop.

  “If you think of the Sun as a giant bubble of boiling water, then the solar wind would be the wisps of steam that float away from the surface. The Sun is always simmering, sending off clouds, or tendrils, of high-energy puffs of particles called coronal mass ejections.

  “These solar wind particles are what create the aurora phenomena in Earth’s northern latitudes. Now, what is unusual about this particular geostorm is its relative weakness to storms of its type in the past.

  “Ordinarily, a G1 storm might cause minor inconveniences and, of course, the beautiful aurora. By minor inconveniences, I’m talking about ham radio disruptions perhaps, GPS devices providing misleading data, and the occasional localized power outage at rural electricity providers who don’t have the most up-to-date equipment.

  “What I am hearing from our contacts at NASA has not been made public, at least not officially yet. You see, in times of intense geomagnetic storms, when the Earth’s magnetosphere is weakened, the solar wind and these particles slam into the planet. It’s like releasing the energy of several nuclear weapons detonating simultaneously.

  “These missile-like groups of matter are capable of opening a gate in the Earth’s magnetic field, allowing the energetic particles to enter the atmosphere and send currents all the way down to the planet’s surface. They can induce currents in the electrical grid, overheat transformers, and cause them to fail. These enormous transformers that are part of our power grid can take months or years to replace. You can’t exactly buy another one at Home Depot.”

  Chapman smiled up at Isabella and stood with his arms outstretched. “Are you ready to give it a try?”

  She nodded and stood.

  Walking with one shoe on and one shoe off, she swayed along the wall of the terminal away from other stranded passengers.

  “So much better, Chapman. Thank you.”

  She hobbled back to her seat and retrieved her shoe. Chapman assisted her with putting it back on, and then he looked up to her.

  “The president must be aware of the solar flare, and now the question is whether our contemporaries at NASA and NOAA will piece together the pole shift as being the cause. I believe they have; otherwise the president wouldn’t have grounded all air travel.”

  “Should we get a hotel room for the night and start our travels tomorrow?”

  Chapman helped her onto her feet and grimaced. “I don’t think we should wait. Believe me, I’m exhausted like you, and I’d like to see you get some ice on your leg. However, as the scientific community and the news media continue to arrive at the truth, the public will become aware of the seriousness of this. I believe the president knows that the next geostorm could be the one that takes down our grid, so he took the initial step of getting the planes out of the sky.”

  “I will do my best to keep up with you. Should you call your family?”

  Chapman pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tried, to no avail. After several attempts to place a call, only to get alternating messages that all circuits were busy or simply a fast busy signal, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and pointed Isabella in the direction of baggage claim and the car-rental counter.

  “We’ll try again later. First, let’s get our transportation.”

  Chapter 28

  Teterboro, New Jersey

  The two travelers made their way to the rental-car counters at Teterboro and were greeted with a hostile mob. Chapman pulled Isabella to the side, where she would be away from the scrum taking place around the kiosks. He looked over the top of the animated rental-hopefuls and saw the same eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sign that appeared to have been printed for every company. It read, quite simply, NO CARS.

  Chapman shook his head and questioned his own sanity for hoping otherwise. Naturally, with flights grounded nationwide and every airport within a hundred miles of the city accepting diverted aircraft, the rentals would be sold out. He returned to Isabella to explain.

  “I should’ve known. The rental cars are all leased out. Now that I think about it, we’ll be lucky to find a taxi or an Uber.”

  She hobbled slightly toward him until she reached his side. “We could walk,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah. Um, no. You know, I saw a car dealership just as we touched down on the runway. It may be two miles to walk there.”

  Isabella looked around and pointed toward the baggage carousels. “The wheelchair. Can you push me? I will carry the bags.”

  “Brilliant!” exclaimed Chapman as he pushed his way through the angry mob looking for a rental-car agent to scream at. Chapman pictured them all huddled under a desk locked in a back room somewhere.

  He reached the wheelchair and bulled his way back through the uncooperative crowd like a dad pushing a stroller through the Magic Kingdom. “Excuse me, pardon me. Coming through. Wheelchair. Make way, please.” He didn’t wait for some people to react, opting instead to give them a gentle nudge, drawing nasty looks before the victim turned their ire back toward the unmanned rental counters.

  Isabella was laughing as he returned, pointing to the top of the wheelchair. “Look, it has an orange flag. Very stylish.”

  “Sporty, too.”

  He loaded her up and got her legs positioned on the footrests. He piled their bags in her lap and off they went. None of the airport personnel gave them a second glance as he wheeled her through the glass front doors and onto the sidewalk.

  Within minutes, he was pushing her down Industrial Avenue to make the two-mile-long trek to where Runway 19 began at the intersection of Moonachie Avenue and Redneck Avenue (seriously, no kidding). It took them almost an hour, but they managed to joke and laugh the entire way. It was an adventure that would create lifetime memories of their first days as a couple.

  Chapman pushed Isabella to the front of Bergen County Auto Group, a used-car dealership specializing in used BMWs. Chapman wasn’t surprised that the two of them arrived unnoticed by a swarm of car salesman. Their wheelchair trade-in wasn’t particularly attractive to a dealership that dealt in bimmers.

  He helped Isabella inside and approached a young woman at a sales desk just inside the plate-glass doors. “Hi, we need to speak to someone about buying a car.”

  Without looking up from her tablet computer, where she scanned Yahoo! News stories, she curtly responded, “Cash or cash equivalent only. No credit.”

  Chapman misunder
stood. “Not a problem. I have excellent credit.”

  The gum-chewing salesperson looked up and made eye contact with her prospects. “No credit. The owner cannot get any of our financing sources to make decisions right now, you know, considering everything that’s goin’ on. Cash or cash equivalent only.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Isabella.

  The woman rudely replied, treating Isabella as if she couldn’t comprehend English. She stretched out her words as she spoke. “Caaassshhh. Gooolllddd. Or maaajjjor credit card. Got it?”

  Isabella’s first impression of people from New Jersey wasn’t a good one.

  “Did you say gold? Really?” Chapman rolled his eyes.

  “That’s right. Now, feel free to look around if you can pay by one of these three methods. Keep in mind, credit cards carry a four percent administrative charge.”

  “Come on, Chapman. Let us leave this rude—”

  Chapman firmly grabbed Isabella by the arm and tugged her away from the gum chomper before a catfight broke out.

  “I agree,” he whispered. “Let’s try to make a deal before we get going.”

  They walked arm-in-arm through the small showroom and then strolled outside. They were shocked by what they found. The regular window stickers of the cars had been marked through with a red Sharpie and increased by fifty percent. All of the cars were well over twenty thousand dollars.

  “I don’t have that kind of availability on my credit cards,” Chapman complained. “This is ridiculous. They must have something less expensive.” He marched back inside, leaving Isabella on the sidewalk alone. He approached the salesperson again.

  “Um, these are kind of pricey for my credit card. Don’t you have anything under ten thousand?” Chapman laughed to himself. He couldn’t believe he was going to use his Discover card to purchase a vehicle.

  “Around the side,” she replied, once again without taking her attention away from the computer. She made no attempt to mask her snide attitude. “Motorcycles are all you can afford.”