Lights out in America's Dairyland: An EMP Adventure

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by Victor Marbury




  Lights Out In America’s Dairyland: An EMP Adventure

  By Victor Marbury

  Copyright 2014 Victor Marbury

  Author’s note

  What started out as a project to keep my writing skills sharp during an off period of school morphed into the book you are reading now. I’ve always enjoyed reading books about preppers and the adventures they go through after an apocalypse so I thought I would try to write one of my own. The story occurs in Southeastern Wisconsin, and many of the places described therein exist. The road traveled by Ben and his friends exists as well, although distances might be a bit off. Finally, any character in the book is just that, a character, and any real or implied connection to a real person living or dead is purely co-incidental. Also, I might mention certain products during the telling of this story, but I am not advocating them in any way. Choose the stuff you like and stick with it!

  Chapter 1

  Today started just like every other day; I got up out of a nice bed the hotel provided, cleaned myself up and went to the lobby to take advantage of the free breakfast the hotel lays out every morning. As I loitered in the lobby over my cup of coffee, I idly watched the news, barely noticing that the pert and attractive newscaster was talking about how NASA scientists were baffled by the Sun’s behavior. The news report cut away to a scientist explaining that the sun had suddenly gone quiet after the flurry of activity 5 days previously. The usual activity on the surface of the sun suddenly ceased its routine cycle that was once very predictable. As the news droned on, I contemplated my day….I was in the final stage of police bicycle training in Madison, Wisconsin, and I was not looking forward to it. I had worked for the Milwaukee Police Department for about 17 years, rising to the rank of Sergeant. I had my share of police-related “excitement” and was currently assigned to a desk job that was not necessarily challenging, but hey, it could be a lot worse. I’m an avid long distance rider, who has been on several charityrides and bicycle tours in both America and Europe over the years. I was not,however, Lance Armstrong, and I loved my beer and brats (after all, I am from Wisconsin) so I was a bit rounder that the average cyclist, but that’s the way many police officers look nowadays. Seeing that I was rapidly becoming a part of my office chair, my boss convinced me to get my pasty, white behind on the bicycle unit for the department. Wanting to please my boss (and wanting not to displease him), the time came and I went to training in Madison, Wisconsin. I had ridden in the area before so I had a good working knowledge of the area, and I had to admit, it was a very bicycle friendly place.

  Today was the final testing phase, and I had done well up to this point, but I seemed to be having trouble with one of the instructors, his name was Gary Schneider, and he was a maximum tool…. He thought he knew everything there was to know about police cycling and was very condescending to the new riders when they had questions. But he seemed to be focusing on me, almost daring me to make a mistake. The most humorous thing about him is that he was thin and birdlike with a twitchy Barney Fife demeanor. He certainly did not look like a typical cyclist; most of them are in excellent shape with well-definedleg muscles due to miles in the saddle. Schneider reminded me of the kid that got beat up a lot in high school, and became a cop so he could have his revenge on his tormentors. Unfortunately, he forgot that cop life is a lot like high school…but with guns. Lots of guys in smaller departments had that “something to prove” disease, and traditionally they made sure that guys from bigger Departments suffered their wrath. I finished breakfast, grabbed the remainder of my gear from my room and checked out so I could leave directly from training back to Milwaukee once we finished. I packed the mighty Subaru and made my way to the training site at the Dane County Fair Grounds. I stopped for a cup of coffee from the local coffee shop because the coffee at the hotel was shit, and arrived to see several others preparing their gear in anticipation of the final day.

  Just as I was unloading my bike, Gary stepped up to me and said in an attempt at a menacing tone, “you know what the penalty for failing is Clark?”

  “No, I don’t, ”I replied in a mild tone. I suppose you line us up out in the back and shoot us?”

  Gary’s face became red, and he yelled “No smart guy, you get to go back home and explain why you’re such a failure to your bosses!”

  I had enough of this toolbox,so I figured that he needed a verbal slap delivered, and I was just the person to do it.

  “Look fuck face, you might be in charge of this little training class, but don’t forget, I fucking outrank you, I have more experience than you with cycling, and darn it, I’m just better looking than you…..so kindly drop the threats and get on with it Schneider!”

  I removed my bike from the car rack and rode off to join with the rest of the members of the training group. When I arrived at the collection of 20 riders from about 5 different Departments, I was greeted cordially with several “Morning, Ben’s” and a few handshakes from the guys I had become acquainted with over the course of three days.

  Police training is a different beast than any other type of development courses a regular corporate guy might go through. The first day is usually circling each other like sharks to figure out what the score is. In this stage, you try to identify who the stars are more than likely going to be, who the tools and potential failures are, and who is just there to get their ticket punched and move on. I was probably just a ticket puncher, but for the most part I enjoyed training and tried to make the best of the situation. The first night usually involves the majority of the other students consuming a quantity of alcohol for socialization purposes and by the second day working friendships form as people begin to gel around the training and each other. If there are any other days, business cards get passed; more post training drinking happens, and you leave training with a few acquaintances and maybe a friend or two.

  In this class, we were assigned a partner, and boy, did I get a great one! Her name was Simone Brown,and she was six feet of black dynamite, to borrow a phrasefrom many Blaxploitation epics of the 1970’s. To say she was outspoken was an understatement, she was smart as a whip and easily mastered every technique that Toolbox Gary threw at her. She worked for the Waukesha County Sheriff’s Department as a road Deputy, and I can safely say I would not want to see her in my rear view mirror while speeding! During training, I got to know Simone a bit and enjoyed her company, once you got past the tough exterior, she was a warm and personable lady, and she was driven to succeed. She grew up in Milwaukee in the north central part of the city …..not exactly a garden spot. Her interior resilience and exterior toughness served her well. Also, the unwavering belief that there was something out there that was better than a monthly welfare check and a few babies from different men. Her drive got her into Waukesha County Technical College and hired by the Sheriff’s office on graduation. At 24, she was the youngest female Road Deputy in the county and had a reputation for being extremely competent and fair-minded.

  Simone had overheard the exchange I had with Schneider, “You know, for a cracker, you got yourself a pretty sharp tongue.”

  I gave her the stink eye and began to check over my bicycle in preparation for class, smiling to myself and wondering if Simone had called anyone else cracker in her entire life.

  Schneider briefed us on what we were going to do, starting with a road ride to test our competence on leading a large group of cyclists in active traffic. Group riding was difficult because the guy at the lead was inherently responsible for the entire group’s safety, and riding in traffic was not one of the skills an average person had having abandoned their bicycles the moment they got their driver�
��s licenses.

  “Clark! Take us out!” bellowed Schneider. I set the group up for single file formation, and we headed out into traffic. We rode for about a mile in rush hour, doing double and single file formations to ensure that everyone was comfortable with their role. Everyone did well. I signaled the group to re-form into single file formation, and we began to slow as we approached a main intersection. However, I misjudged how close we were to the intersection and a few guys in the back were unable to fold into a single file line, so we ended up in a sort of a single/double formation, not the end of the world, but Schneider seized the opportunity to embarrass me.

  He pulled up next to me and said, “That’s strike one Clark,” before riding away and denying me a chance to respond. I gathered myself and headed back out into traffic with the group continuing to practice the skills the leader needed to master.

  As I approached a second intersection, I was directed by Schneider to make a left turn, so I signaled a left turn with my arm, heard the call “Left turn” resonate down the line behind me, and began to lead the group to the left. Without warning, Schneider rode up on my right side and said “I said right turn Clark. That’s strike two” before fading back into the middle of the pack. It was then I realized that there was no way I was going to pass the course with Schneider rating me. It pissed me off, but I decided to bide my time and think about how I was going to respond after this ride was over. I was replaced as the lead so the next rider could have a chance, and I faded to the rear to take up my correct position.

  We rode for miles, each rider taking a turn as leader with Schneider hounding each of them. It appeared to me that Schneider enjoyed forcing the students to make mistakes, giving him the opportunity to berate them on their performance. Finally, when we returned to the fairgrounds, Simone approached me and said, “What’s that asshole’s problem? What the fuck’s he riding you for?”

  “I suppose you could ask all the other guys he was treating the same way, but for me, who knows, sister. He and I just don’t see eye to eye.” I affected a British accent and said, “Perhaps, dear lady he doesn’t like the cut of my jib.”

  Simone said, “Fuck that; he’s deliberately trying to fail you and it ain’t fair.”

  “Don’t worry Simone I’ll figure something out, whatever happens I’ll deal with him.”

  As the warm August afternoon faded, we all were successful in passing our skills tests, much to the chagrin of Schneider. As we were finishing and preparing for our graduation photo, Schneider and another deputy trainer named Karlinski approached me, “We’re going out on another road ride, I didn’t like they way you did the first one.”

  “That’s bullshit, why didn’t you just fail me out there like you wanted to?”

  Schneider frowned, “I had a meeting with the other trainers and they decided to give you a second chance.”

  “So, this is what double secret probation looks like huh, you pissant?” I replied, giving Schneider the full-on stink eye.

  Schneider turned red in the face and said, “This is your last chance Milwaukee. You fuck this up, and you fail!”

  Just as I was about to move on Schneider and snap him like a toothpick, Simone intervened and separated us with her massive form and yelled, “Schneider, you’re out of line!” and pushed him away with the slightest flick of one of her hands. She then turned to me and said, “Do what he wants Ben, but I‘m coming along to make sure you get a fair shake.”

  Meanwhile, 93 million miles away at the center of the solar system…..

  Four days previously, the surface of the sun convulsed in an extreme burst of activity. Although the light and some energy in the form of X-Rays reached the earth quickly and made a brief show for those who could see the northern lights, the extremely large energy pulse that followed at a much slower pace was far more dangerous. Days later when it arrived, the earth’s magnetic field helped mitigate some of the damage, but a great deal of energy still got through in the form of a massive electromagnetic pulse and the destructionof all electronic devices on the planet began. Most people did not notice that there was a problem until their car stalled for no apparent reason or their cell phone conversations ended abruptly. However, anyone flying in an airplane when the pulse struck could only scream helplessly as their aircraft plummeted to earth. In some places, people saw overhead power wires burst into flames and melt in seconds. The inhabitants of planet earth had just re-entered the 19th Century…….unfortunately many did not realize it until it was too late.

  Back on Earth seconds after the EMP

  We saddled up and headed out into traffic, me in the lead, Simone in the middle and Karlinski and Schneider in the rear. The ride was going along great; I was able to counter every one of Schneider’s efforts to get me to make a critical mistake. I was beginning to believe that I had this locked up when I noticed a large tractor-trailer coming from the left. I yelled “truck left!” to alert everyone to the moving hazard headed toward us per the rules of road cycling. As I approached the intersection, I thought to myself, “This truck is heading towards us pretty fast…..” a second before I realized that it was going to collide with our group. I yelled “Look out!” and headed towards a drainage ditch at the shoulder of the road that offered an escape route from the fast moving truck. Simone followed me, but Schneider and Karlinski didn’t hear me and the truck hit them both. The truck then collided with the concrete abutment of the drainage ditch. In the drainage ditch, Simone and I were scraped and wet, but unhurt. We emerged from the ditch to a chaotic scene, what was once an orderly traffic intersection became a massive car pileup with several vehicles on fire and people milling about unsure what to do next. I reached for my cell phone to call for help and noticed that the screen was blank, which was unusual. I knew that my phone was on when I left the training ground, so I wondered if my bailout broke my phone and quickly turned to Simone.

  “Simone, my phone is not working, call someone on yours, let’s get these people some help,”

  Simone said, “That’s funny….mine isn’t working either.”

  I looked at my brand new G-Shock watch and noticed that the screen there was also blank with no display showing. What I saw next convinced me of my worst fears, A 737 with Air Tran markings was doing a flat spin out of the sky and belly flopped about a quarter mile from our position into the intersection full of disabled autos and a milling crowd with a very large BOOM! I grabbed Simone and headed back into the ditch as I felt a blast of heat from the burning fuel as it licked at my back. The ditch protected us from the heat and flames from the burning cars and airliner. I looked at Simone, who was sprawled in the ditch beside me looking in the direction of the carnage with wide eyes and open mouth.

  After a moment, I shook her and said, “We got to get the fuck out of Dodge woman, grab your bike and let’s go!”

  She sprang into action, and we made our way to our bikes and rode as fast as we could back to the fairground. As hard as it was, we ignored the calls for help and the screams emanating from the ruined intersection.

  Chapter 2

  We arrived back to the fairgrounds to see our classmates milling about and talking among themselves. Most of the group were pointing out at greater Madison and commenting on the large plumes of smoke that began to rise from the city. There appeared to be a lively debate between my classmates centering around what had happened and what they were going to do about it. Jim Blankenship, another guy I had begun to form some ties with, broke from the group and approached Simone and Me.

  Jim studied our disheveled condition, “Ben, where are Schneider and Karlinski?”

  I looked at him and said “those guys are roadkill Jim! They got hit by an 18-wheeler while we were riding about two miles from here. Simone and I barely escaped with our hides! I pointed to a massive plume of smoke in the distance and said “That smoke is from a jet that dropped out of the sky and onto our heads after Schneider and Karlinski died!”

  Jim looked at me with disbelief “I don�
�t believe you Ben, either you just took off and left them, or they took off and left you and are probably headed back her right now.”

  Simone approached Jim and said “Look here fool, Ben said they were dead, and that’s the truth. They got crushed by a truck, and if it weren't for him, I would be crushed with them!”

  Jim was still not getting the picture. He paced a bit, and said “we got to call someone from Madison PD so they can get on this.”

  I asked Jim if his watch was working; he looked down at the face and said “Shit, it looks like it is dead.”

  A quick poll of the remaining cops revealed the same thing, nobody’s watches, phones, bike speedometers, lights, any other electronic equipment was working. When I tried to start the Subaru, I got nothing; the mighty Outback was now a three thousand pound paperweight. I realized what was going on, remembering the newscast from this morning, we got hit with a massive Coronal Mass Ejection from our old pal the Sun! I was reluctant to share my suspicions with the group for fear of spreading panic, and being branded a member of the tinfoil hat brigade. However, when I weighed the consequences of not telling them, I simply could not leave my fellow cops in the dark. Some of these people had become friends, and I knew that they had wives, husbands and kids to get home to, so I thought it would be a shitty thing to do on my part to not inform them as best I could.

  I stood on the roof of the mighty Subaru and called for order. Since I was the highest-ranking members of the class, most of my fellow students complied. As the group gathered around the car, I noticed about 5 or 6 people remaining where they were, refusing to come any closer. They eyed me suspiciously as if I was trying to convince them to do something that was stupid, illegal, or both. I ignored them and addressed the main group.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem. Simone and I witnessed our instructors get killed by a runaway truck, and we saw a commercial airliner fall out of the sky and hit an intersection full of people! Two accidents like this just don’t happen….something is behind this. I have a suspicion that either a natural or man-made incident has occurred which has effectively rendered everything with an electronic circuit useless. If you’re interested in hearing me out, listen on.”

 

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