Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One

by Roger Hayden

  The deadly firefight sent a rush of adrenaline surging through Rob as he gunned the pickup in a frantic escape from the hospital. Startled and disoriented, much like the others, he could barely remember the way out of town. The Ford pickup roared down the road and hit a pothole, again throwing Carlos and Brad onto the truck bed with brute force.

  Wind blasted inside the truck from the gaping hole in the windshield. Mila pleaded with Rob to slow down. She could barely keep her grip on the passenger-side armrest, and debris was blowing in their faces. Peter lay on the floor, under the dashboard, cradling his injured hand. Mila reached for her medical tote bag, only to have it fly out of her hands when Rob hit another bump.

  “You need to slow down!” she shouted.

  “I can’t!” Rob said. “We’re sitting ducks!”

  He didn’t know what turn to make or where to go. All the streets looked the same. Peter’s blood was everywhere. Their left headlight dangled from the front bumper, fresh from running a man down. Rob had never killed anyone. He’d never even been in a fight past high school. And as far as he remembered, a hit-and-run was still a crime.

  His first instinct was to go to the police, but of course there wasn’t a single officer in sight, and no station to go to, either. He took a sharp right down a residential back road, losing all sense of direction. His heart raced as his hands clenched the wheel. Up ahead, he could see that the road had been blocked off with more vehicles, like another barricade.

  Avoiding the trap, Rob took his first left, realizing that no matter where he turned, there were barricades in the way. They turned down a street where a six-foot-high concrete wall ran across the entire two-lane street. Rob slammed the brakes. Mila flew forward and caught herself against the dashboard. Peter nailed his head against the lower ashtray. The truck screeched to a halt as smoke rose from the tires.

  Five men stood at the end of the wall, stacking cinder blocks.

  Mila squinted. “What is this?”

  Rob took a moment to catch his breath and looked out as well. “A wall. They’re blocking every exit.” He whipped his head around. “We need to find a way out.”

  Carlos shouted from the truck bed in pain. “What’s going on up there?”

  “We’re trying to find a way out,” Mila shouted back.

  Suddenly, two armed men came rushing toward them across a nearby yard, covering ground in haste.

  “Get out of the truck!” one of them shouted.

  Rob put the truck in reverse and slammed the gas pedal. The truck jolted backward as Mila screamed. Rob kept his eyes on the rearview mirror for anything in their path as Carlos and Brad stayed flat in the back. The two men—large and covered in tattoos and piercings—maintained their breakneck pursuit.

  Rob spun the truck sharply left, screeching the tires and taking out a mailbox in the process. The tattooed men sprinted toward them, trying to take advantage of their unexpected stop. Rob quickly recovered and sped past, leaving them in the dust.

  “Weatherford!” Mila shouted. “Take Weatherford! That’ll get us back on the highway.”

  Rob took an immediate turn, tossing his passengers in the air once again. Things began to come back to him, and his sense of direction returned. They drove past the rear of the hospital, realizing they had just made one big circle in their frenzied haste. “Damn!” said Rob.

  “We’re OK now, we’re close,” Mila said. “See!” The Route 9 West sign was ahead. “What the hell has happened to our town, Rob?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rob said. “We’re going to have to get winter supplies someplace else. Maybe the next town over.”

  “What about the gas?”

  “We’ll get more. We don’t have a choice,” Rob said. “That was too close. We can’t be taking these kinds of chances.”

  Peter moaned from the floor as Mila leaned forward and grabbed her medical bag. She pulled it up and fished through the supplies for Peter. The disappointment of not being able to check on their home and Rob’s business began to take hold. They were alive, but Nyack had drastically changed.

  Mila looked at Rob with gratitude. “You did great.” They merged onto the highway, leaving as quickly as they had arrived without looking back.

  ***

  It was nightfall by the time they made it back to camp, in a totally battered Ford pickup with a single flickering headlight. Rob slowed the truck to a halt near Elliot and Reba’s cabin. There was no one around. The cabin windows were covered, as was their protocol at night. Rob wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late. Their search for winter supplies along the way had been a bust.

  As they pulled up, no one spoke. The near brush with death left them subdued and quiet. Mila had done what she could with Peter’s hand and wrapped it in gauze to control the bleeding. He had passed out some time before reaching Bear Mountain. They had made it back with a half tank remaining and a truck that looked as though it had gone through hell.

  Carlos and Brad stumbled out of the back. They stretched, not saying a word, as Rob switched off the ignition. Mila looked at their own cabin—its windows covered—and held back tears. She felt afraid of everything—too overwhelmed to even get out of the truck. She wasn’t prepared to tell the kids anything, but she was grateful to be back.

  Rob turned to her, his face as worn and tired looking as hers. “We’re going to be OK.” His eyes stayed on hers. She only nodded in response.

  Rob put his arm around her shoulder. “We had no idea things had gotten so bad. Now we know, and we can be better prepared.”

  “That wasn’t our town,” she said in a shaky voice. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but it wasn’t Nyack.”

  “The EMP …” Rob began.

  “Screw the EMP,” she said. “This is the apocalypse. How could things possibly get so bad? Why isn’t anyone helping us? Where is everyone?”

  “We have to help ourselves. That’s what I’ve been saying since day one. Back there … that was anarchy. Without phones or electricity or working vehicles, we’re nothing but rats in a maze right now. And people will take advantage of the situation.”

  “What are we going to tell Josh and Kelly?” she asked as a tear streamed down her cheek. “They need to go back to school. Back to their lives.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “We’ve failed them.”

  “That is not true,” Rob said. “As a family, we’re doing all right, which wouldn’t be the case had we stayed in Nyack.”

  Carlos came to Rob’s side and knocked on the window. “You gonna sit in there all night? Come on.”

  Peter lay slumped in the middle, propped against the seat. Shattered glass from the front and back windows covered the floor of the truck. Mila pushed open the passenger door with her foot and stepped out. Rob opened his door and saw Carlos and Brad leaning against the hood, holding their sides in pain.

  “How are you guys holding up?” he asked.

  Carlos shook his head. “A little banged up, but just glad you got us out of there.”

  Brad winced in pain. “I think I bruised a rib. Might even be broken.”

  Carlos scoffed. “If it was broken, amigo, you’d know it. Trust me.”

  Mila was guiding Peter out of the truck as Rob, Carlos and Brad took a few minutes to talk. Nyack wasn’t safe, they agreed. The town had fallen.

  At the camp, people had been waiting for them, keeping watch, and anxious for news. They began coming out of their cabins one by one.

  Krystal, Peter’s wife, walked out first. Mayra called out for Carlos and rushed toward him with the children, Antonio and Gabrielle, following. Brad’s wife, Ashlee, came out next, squinting into the darkness. Josh and Kelly walked past her holding ChemLights, eagerly looking for their parents.

  “Carlos!” Mayra said. She dashed over and threw her arms around him. “I’m so relieved. It seemed like days. We were worried.”

  “We’re fine. Everything is fine,” Carlos said, stroking her head.

  Brad
and Ashlee hugged each other, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms, not saying a word.

  “Where are the kids? Are they OK?” Brad asked, trying to hide his pain.

  “They’re in bed. Don’t worry.” Ashlee took a step back, examining him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “No, no,” Brad said, waving her off. “Just got a little thrown around back there.”

  “Well, you come inside this instant,” Ashlee said and pulled him off toward their cabin.

  Krystal approached the group in her nightgown, dazed. One look at Peter hanging onto Mila with his hand bandaged sent her into hysterics.

  “Peter! What happened to him? Oh my God!”

  His head rose as consciousness began coming back. Mila dragged herself toward Krystal with Peter leaning on her shoulder, both of them exhausted.

  “He cut his hand, but he’s going to be OK.”

  Rob walked around the truck to meet up with Mila just as Josh and Kelly found them. They looked as concerned as everyone else, and ran to Rob and hugged him. Kelly choked back tears.

  “I’m OK. I’m OK…” Rob said, rubbing their backs.

  “Did you see our house?” Kelly asked.

  “Is the power back on yet?” Josh added.

  “In time. Let us get situated first,” Rob said. His voice was hoarse and shaky.

  They ran from him to Mila, who had just guided Peter into Krystal’s arms as she scolded him.

  “What did you do out there, trying to give me a heart attack?” she asked, leading him to the cabin.

  “I need to treat his hand tonight,” Mila called as their cabin door shut.

  Josh and Kelly threw their arms around her and squeezed tightly, nearly knocking her over. She pulled them close, sobbing and assuring them that everything was fine.

  Elliot then stepped out, having just woken up. He walked toward them in boxers, a white T-shirt, and slippers, scratching his head. One look at the dangling headlight and shattered windshield nearly sent him over the edge.

  “What in God’s name happened to my truck?” he cried, running.

  Rob grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Not now, OK? I’ll explain everything in a minute. But we have a job to do. We got the medical supplies, and my wife is going to treat Reba. The run nearly cost us our lives.”

  Elliot looked on, confounded. “That bad? H-how? No police? No military?”

  “Nothing,” Rob said. “Just us now.”

  Later that night, Rob and Mila lay in bed, still shaken from the experience. Their bodies ached, but the soft mattress was a welcome change from being thrown around in the truck. Mila rested her head on his chest, sighing. It had been a long night for her.

  She had done her best picking bits of glass from Peter’s hand and cleaning his wound. Then she turned her attention to Elliot’s wife, Reba, administering medication to her and checking her vital signs. She believed that Reba would make it. Only time would tell.

  “I know that it’s for real now,” Mila said, breathing into Rob’s chest. “We never got the winter supplies, but I don’t know if I can go back out there.”

  His hand massaged her back as his eyelids grew heavier. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry,” he said.

  She lifted her head and kissed him. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he said, drifting off.

  “Rob?”

  He awoke. “Yes?”

  “Do you think we can survive this?”

  “I do,” Rob said. “Things are bad now, but we’ll find our way soon.”

  “Thank you,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

  ***

  Sunday, November 20, 2016

  It was morning and business as usual at the camp. The kids were doing their chores, Elliot was pulling guard, and Mila was tending to Reba—trying to nurse her back to health. No one had gotten very much sleep. Rob had called for a quick meeting to fill everyone in about what they had seen and done in Nyack.

  Brad and Ashlee sat among the Santos family and the Dunnes. Peter cradled his bandaged hand, recently dressed and cleaned by Mila. He was doing better but traumatized by the thought of ever going into town again. Carlos looked a little banged up, with a bruise or two on his forehead. The stoic, concerned faces let Rob know that the group had reached a threshold, and that their next moves would determine their fate in the camp.

  Before addressing them, he tried to put on his best face. He wanted to assure them that there was still hope, despite their once-idyllic town having gone to hell. The chilly morning breeze was a stark reminder of the coming winter, which only added to the question of how long they could continue to hunker down.

  “I called this meeting because I think it’s important to assess where we’re at. I’m sure you’ve all explained to your families the dismal condition of our town, and it’s true, what we saw yesterday was very concerning.”

  “Who are these people?” Krystal cried out. She took Peter’s bandaged hand in hers. “The men who shot at my husband. I want to know.”

  “I’m not sure, but I do have some idea,” Rob answered.

  “Enlighten us, please,” Carlos said. Murmurs of agreement traveled through the group.

  Rob continued. “The ability of law enforcement to do their jobs has been greatly diminished following the EMP. The same thing with the military. According to the last emergency broadcast, this situation is not exclusive to Nyack. Many areas have been besieged by criminal elements—gangs, hoodlums, you name it. It’s my guess that these groups have taken over Nyack and implemented their own mob rule. And I’m also willing to assume that the people we saw stacking bricks and doing yard labor like prisoners are the residents. Those who stayed behind.”

  “Can’t they fight back?” Ashlee asked. The group nodded and voiced agreement while awaiting Rob’s answer.

  “Not if they lack the means,” Rob said. He paced the stage. “Think about it. The power has been out for two months. Resources are low. People are desperate. All it takes is one bad element to come in and take over. We’re witnessing a complete breakdown.”

  Carlos stood up. “So let’s go into town and take care of those bastards. Our friends and neighbors are counting on us.” Mayra touched his arm, urging him to sit back down.

  “Hear, hear!” Brad said, himself feeling inspired to do something. People began clamoring for action, and the meeting was getting out of control.

  “Listen!” Rob said, quieting the group. “It’s not that easy. We’re preppers, right? And what is our main goal as preppers? It’s to ensure the safety and survival of our loved ones. We can’t do that by trying to be heroes. Many of us have friends and family out there, and we’re without any idea of their status.

  “It’s scary and frightening, and I know it’s driving us all crazy, but we have to stick to the plan. Until the power grid is returned and law and order established, we need to remain here, only leaving for supply runs. The real issue now is not the fate of Nyack, but the fate of our families, and how we’re going to survive the winter.”

  The group was silent. Rob’s blunt assessment had resonated with them—or so it seemed. They all had their own concept of what hunkering down meant, but this was no weekend drill. They had been living in the mountains for over two months with no end in sight. The situation in Nyack was frightening. They truly were on their own.

  ***

  Later that day, Josh and Antonio gathered their supplies for a day of fishing—the one activity that kept them sane. Cooped up in a cabin with their parents and a sister wore on Josh, and most of their days, outside of homeschool, were spent outdoors.

  At fifteen, Antonio was two years older, but Josh got along with him just fine. They both liked video games and rock music. Antonio even played guitar. They did what they could to keep their minds occupied while trying to pitch in at the camp. At the end of the day, though, they were teenagers.

  “I can’t believe that there’s no girls out here,” Antoni
o said as they hiked down the mountain trail toward the river. “I mean, why can’t a Swedish bikini team get stuck out here with us or something?”

  Josh nodded. “Yeah.”

  “That’s the worst thing about all of this, you know?”

  The Dunne kids—Jeremiah, Mark, Luke, and Allison—were in their early teens too, but mainly kept to themselves. Allison barely said a word. She was fourteen and pretty, but extremely hard to talk to. Her brothers always surrounded her like bodyguards. Josh had pretty much given up.

  Antonio continued. “I’m dying out here, bro.”

  “I hear ya,” Josh said, ducking under a tree branch with his fishing pole in hand.

  Antonio waved him off. “Ah, you wouldn’t know what to do with a girl if you had one.”

  “That’s not true,” Josh protested.

  Antonio halted and looked at Josh with a raised brow and a disbelieving expression. Josh had no choice but to stop as well. “Oh yeah?” said Antonio. “When was the last time you kissed a girl, huh?”

  Antonio crossed his arms and waited as Josh thought about it, trying to conceal his panic. “Well,” he answered, turned away, “I haven’t done that yet, but I’m getting real close.”

  Antonio bellowed. He slapped Josh on the back and couldn’t stop laughing, near tears now. “Oh, man. You are too funny.” He grabbed his sides while catching his breath. Josh looked down, not saying anything.

  “Relax, Don Juan. I’m only messing with you,” Antonio said with a smile.

  Josh looked up and shot him a skeptical look. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” He couldn’t help but smile too. He glanced over Antonio’s shoulder and froze as he saw something in the distance.

  Antonio continued his exaggerated laughing, but when he got no reaction, he looked up and saw the dread on Josh’s face. Concerned, his smile disappeared.

  “What is it, dude?”

  “Someone’s out there,” Josh said.

  Antonio spun around to look. Beyond the trees, a man was stealthily moving toward them. Antonio dropped his fishing pole and bucket and pulled out his pocket knife.