EMP

by Wilson Harp

  “No,” Ted answered. “If we are only going to be out of power for a few days, there is no need. If we are going to be out of power for more than a couple of weeks, we will want people as spread out as possible to prevent any spread of disease.”

  “What kind of disease are we talking about?” Mayor Mueller asked.

  “Mostly waterborne. Cholera, for example. That’s why we need to make sure we have fresh water to drink. Any water anyone may get from their pipes should be boiled. If we can reopen a few of the wells around the area, that would be great. I have a couple of hand pumps at my house and if we check the area, we might find some hidden away in old garages.”

  I raised my hand. “My father has one and was looking for the Anderson’s old pump location when I left the house this morning.”

  “Good,” Ted said. “Who are you and where is the well located?”

  “I’m David Hartsman and my folks live at the south edge of town on Granger.”

  “Good. Looks like you know Anne, and she has a horse today. I’m going to let you and Anne contact everyone south of Miller and west of Granger with the information we need to get out. Anne, you can let everyone know along Balsam Road when you head back home.”

  Ted explained what the priorities were, to keep everyone safe and calm. The pharmacy would be secured and all the other stores shut for a few days. The volunteers were to take notes on each house and get names and ages of everyone who lived in each residence. He said it was important to have an accurate census since there might be people in the area who didn’t normally live there, and some who lived in the area might be away.

  I thought of Frank and how he was likely trapped over in Cape Girardeau. It was about two hours away by car, but still over a hundred miles on foot. The four miles to the library seemed like a long walk, I could only imagine if Frank tried to walk back to Wilcox.

  Ted went on to say folks should keep their freezers shut for the next couple of days and eat as much food from their refrigerators as possible. Then, work on cooking and keeping everything in the freezer. Canned goods should be saved and anything that could sit in the pantry should be eaten after food from the freezer was gone.

  I wasn’t sure how long Ted thought this outage might continue, but I suspected the people of Kenton would eat better than normal for the next several days before facing any real trauma of low food supplies.

  We were told to check with any families with children to make sure they had adequate food. Children would be the first hit with dehydration and malnutrition, and with many families probably having more food in their refrigerators or freezers than they could finish in a few days, it made no sense to have some children go hungry before food in town had a chance to spoil.

  When Ted first started speaking, the mayor and the deputy seemed ill at ease. Their confusion and uncertainty of the situation seemed to let Ted take the reins even though doubts were evident. But as he spoke, I saw the look of confidence grow on the faces of Mayor Mueller and the lawman. Ted spoke as a man who had prepared for this day, and from the comments I heard, he likely had. He understood the limitations we faced, he knew what needed to be prioritized, and he even described the emotional state we were laboring under.

  “What you are feeling,” he said, “is called ‘normalcy bias.’ It means the situation is so far beyond what you can consider normal, you are just rejecting it as reality. The facts, ladies and gentlemen, are this: we have no water, no food, no power, no transportation, and no help on the way. Every drop of water, every morsel of food, and every bit of help will come from the people in this room and how they react and respond to the reality we face.”

  Thoughtful expressions turned panicked as those who listened really let the situation sink in. The knot that had been sitting deep in my gut ripped open as I realized what he was saying. My God! Lexi and Emma were in Chicago and I had no way of reaching them or even knowing if they were okay.

  “David,” Anne said. She was bent over, helping to keep me upright. My knees had buckled and I discovered I was kneeling on the floor.

  Ted had stopped speaking and just looked at the crowd. A wave of comprehension had swept across the room and there were more than a few people who had collapsed like I did.

  “What do we do, Riggins?” Deputy Gary asked after a few seconds.

  “We make a plan and we stick to it. When people start realizing what we are facing, they will need a plan to lean on.”

  “Why are you asking him?” a woman exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” a man added. “Who put him in charge?”

  “He’s been talking about the end of the world for years,” another man said. “How do we know he didn’t have something to do with it!”

  Kenny walked to the front and turned to address the room.

  “I was in New Orleans when Katrina hit,” he said. “I was waiting on help after the storm, but help never came. I eventually walked out and found a group of people who got me to Shreveport. I thought maybe I could get help there, but there was no help. I didn’t have any kids and I didn’t have any family nearby. So, I caught a ride up to Memphis and then made my way back to Kenton.”

  A few of the gathered men and women nodded as Kenny spoke. They had heard the story it seemed. Most of the others fidgeted and looked uncomfortable.

  “I guess my point is, we can’t rely on anyone else. Especially not the government,” said Kenny. “We tried that in New Orleans when we should have been prepared and should have taken care of ourselves and each other. I would love nothing more than to see a car pull into Kenton with a group of men who will tell us where to go to make sure we have plenty of food and water, but after what happened in the sky last night, I don’t think that is in the cards. Do you?”

  The room became silent. The sky was lit up from one side of the horizon to the other. Thousands of miles of sky all energized by something.

  Mayor Mueller stepped forward and looked at Kenny and Ted. He turned back to face the volunteers. “These men are right. We have to be our own rescuers. If there is no objection, I am going to put Ted Riggins in charge of the relief effort officially.”

  Nods and voiced affirmations greeted the announcement. Something as simple as the man elected to be in charge making a decision seemed to calm the nerves of everyone in the room.

  “Thank you, Mayor,” Ted said as he pointed back at the white board. “I think we have everything we need today. We can meet again tomorrow morning and start figuring out what we have available and what we need. Remember to write down the situation of anyone who needs specific help.”

  Anne let go of my arm I didn’t realize she was still holding.

  “I guess we need to get going and start telling people what is going on,” she said.

  “Yeah. But first, I promised my mom I would check on a friend of hers.” I held up the piece of paper with the address.

  “Who does she want you to check on?”

  “Ruth Walters.”

  Anne sighed. “Ruth lives out in Gainesboro now. Her daughter set her up in the nursing home.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Maybe three years.”

  I nodded and slipped the note back in my shirt pocket.

  Anne smiled at me. There were a few tears in her eyes.

  “I lost my mom the same way,” she said. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

  We walked out of the library as the mayor, the deputy, Kenny and Ted talked near the white board. Besides us, all the others had left.

  “I heard you had moved back to town,” I said.

  “Well nothing’s wrong with your memory, you must have heard that ten years ago,” she said.

  “Has it been that long?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. When Dad died, I quit my job in Denver and moved back here to help Mom.”

  “You kept the stables going?”

  “No. I still do taxes, just out of my house now instead of working for a big company. Mom decided having a bunch of horses was too much
work. Bonnie and Clyde are enough now.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come back for your folks funerals,” I said.

  She laughed. It was a sound that pulled me back almost thirty years.

  “David, if you had come to my dad’s funeral, he would have climbed out of that casket and tried to kill you.”

  “Probably,” I said as a sheepish smile crept up my face. “But I should have come back for your mom, at least.”

  “That is true,” Anne said. “Mom always liked you.”

  I thought about just walking away, like I had thirty years before. This time I had nothing to gain by staying. Nothing but an old friend, anyway.

  “I guess we better mount up. Are you riding in front?” I asked.

  “Maybe. Are you a better rider than you were in high school?”

  “Hey,” I whined with mock indignation. “I was a good rider.”

  “No,” Anne said with a laugh. “You weren’t. And I can’t imagine you have gotten any better living in the big city.”

  We walked over to the bike rack where she had tethered her horse. The crowd outside the library had started to thin out. Little clumps of people dotted the area, either catching up with neighbors and laughing, or listening intently to one of the volunteers that had been tasked with preparing the town for what was to come.

  “Hey Bonnie,” Anne said as she untied the mare’s reins. “This is my friend David and we are both going to need a ride, okay?”

  Bonnie seemed very calm as I approached her. I reached out to stroke her nose and she looked at me as if taking measure of my ability.

  “Don’t worry, girl. He’ll be riding behind me,” Anne said as if she could read my mind.

  Anne swung up into the saddle like a star from a 60’s western. A smooth, single motion that looked so simple and effortless. She held her hand out for me and I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I just didn’t want to fall on my face like I had so many years ago when I visited her house for the first time.

  She slid her foot from out of the stirrup as I stepped up to start my first attempt at riding a horse in close to thirty years. I grabbed her wrist tightly and she pulled up on my arm and helped me get the momentum needed to swing into the saddle. I was surprised as I felt myself settle into the right position.

  “Not bad, David. At least you remember how to get in the saddle.”

  “As long as you don’t give her the bit, I should be able to stay put,” I said as I rested my hands on Anne’s hips.

  Our conversation was casual as we road south out of town. With each minute and each sentence, the awkwardness of our past and the tension of the present situation seemed to melt away.

  We stopped and gave basic information to several small knots of people who had gathered at some of the crossroads. Each group seemed mollified as we explained what we knew, what we did not know, and how the committee had decided to spread news of what we as a town would do to get through this bizarre and mysterious time.

  We made the turn west on Miller Road and I hopped off and started going house to house on foot. Anne rode on to the end of the development and we met in the middle some hours later. We then headed back to Granger and took turns with the houses on the way south.

  The sun was sliding down the western sky when I spotted my folks house. There was a small crowd gathered on the front lawn just past where my car was parked. It looked like the crowd was composed almost entirely of grey haired men.

  One of the gathered men pointed toward the horse and pair of riders. The crowed quieted and waited. Calls of greetings to Anne started as we came closer, and by the time I slid out of the saddle, smiles and casual chatter was wide spread.

  “Davey,” my dad said. He left the crowd and walked to the horse.

  He looked tired and worn. I could tell by his clothes he had been working in the dirt all day.

  “Dad,” I said. “How is everything here?”

  I looked closer and most of the men were in the same condition as my dad. They looked dirty and tired, but they all had big smiles,

  “Good, good. We were able to get three wells reopened today and we think we know where another four are.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Anne said. “How did you get that much of a jump on the rest of us?”

  Dad shrugged and looked around at the assembled men. “I guess we are from a generation that doesn’t need to be told what to do. We figured if there was no water from the town, we would go back to the way many of us got water as kids. We went back to the well.”

  “Good job, Dad,” I said. “Anne, do you want to have dinner with us tonight.”

  “No,” Anne said. She was shading her eyes as she looked to the west. “We need to hit the rest of the houses on Granger, and then I need to get the houses along Balsam. Plus, I need to get back to my place and take care of the animals. But I’ll be here early tomorrow morning with Clyde. You can ride him if you want.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “You have a good night and don’t stay up too late.”

  Anne’s laugh always reminded me of rain on a sheet of crystal in the past. Light and playful. It surprised me to hear a throaty, deep chuckle come from her. A type of laugh her father always had.

  She waved and let Bonnie canter south along the road. After the Johnson’s, there was no homes for a full mile. At the bridge over Carter’s Creek, the last people that could said to be part of Kenton, lived in small collection of old houses and mobile homes in a large wooded area right off Granger. Once Anne let them know what Ted had said, she would ride back up to Miller and then west toward Balsam. I could only imagine how sore she would be tomorrow.

  “Be careful, Davey,” Dad said as we turned towards the house.

  “How do you mean?”

  “You may be having a tough time with Lexi, but you need to mend those fences, not go looking to the past.”

  I didn’t think it was any of his business, and I wasn’t considering getting together with Anne, but I didn’t want to discuss it with a crowd of men around us.

  “What’s the word, Pat? Your boy bring any news back?”

  Dad motioned to me and I realized I was expected to report information and instructions to men I would have been intimidated to address by their first names just twenty years ago. It had been that many years since I had seen most of them.

  “Ted Riggins has been appointed the head of the effort to get us through this,” I said. Several of the men nodded and a fair number frowned at this first bit of information. Most remained impassive as if the name did not mean anything to them. It probably didn’t.

  “He is of the opinion a massive solar flare created an electro-magnetic pulse that has disabled the electrical power for at least this part of the country.”

  Murmurs started and several men started to ask questions.

  “Quiet!” Dad said. He didn’t yell, but his voice took on the sharp report of a cracking bullwhip.

  “The first thing Riggins said we should do is make sure we have plenty of water. Looks like the men here have already been working on that, so at least the south part of town is ahead of the game by a day.”

  The men smiled at this and several clapped each other on the back.

  “We don’t know when, or if, we will get any news from the government about what is happening or when it will be fixed. So, the first things we need to do is keep the freezers closed, not open packaged or canned food, and cook and eat everything in our refrigerators.”

  “Let’s get a fire going!” someone said. I thought it was Luke Carter, a man of large appetites and larger talk. Several others cheered at his proclamation.

  “That’s a good idea,” Dad said. “The rest we can talk about tomorrow. We have a little daylight left, so let’s get a large cooking area setup and everyone can gather and eat together.”

  “We don’t need to go through that trouble, do we?” I asked. “Most everyone out here has propane stoves, they should still work.”

  “W
e need the wood ash, Davey,” Dad said. “We need to get as much wood ash as we can gather. Having a large fire pit will help gather it, and people can cook and have a sense of being together.”

  “Why do we need wood ash?”

  “Tomorrow when we build our outhouse, you’ll see why.”

  “Outhouse?”

  “No water pressure, remember?”

  I hadn’t really thought about it. I did need to pee, but the need hadn’t been at the level of discomfort where I sought out a place to relieve myself.

  “Where have you been going?” I asked.

  “Behind the garage,” he said.

  “And Mom?”

  Dad sighed and looked down. “I’m not proud, Davey. I slipped some strong sleeping pills into your mom’s coffee. She’s been asleep most of the day. I had Rose come over and keep an eye on her. I just didn’t think she would be capable of dealing with all the changes today brought.”

  I nodded and put my hand on his shoulder. As hard as it was for me to deal with her decline from a distance, it paled in comparison to the pain he must go through daily.

  “I’ll go check out the back of the house,” I said. “You see about getting your buddies organized for a neighborhood cookout.”

  Chapter 5

  The cookout that night was one to remember. Almost a hundred people, from close to sixty houses, came with whatever food they had in their refrigerators to cook and eat. Six tables were set up to hold all of the food, and most people either sat on blankets or stood and watched the sky as the sun set.

  The northern lights were almost as bright as they had been the night before. Long after it should have been dark, there was still plenty of light for the children to run and play. The adults tended to either stand in small groups or move from small group to small group. Those that roamed were trying to gather information. Most was innocuous, but I heard several ask questions that made me uncomfortable. One man, in particular, was very interested in whether people thought they should be hunting and what kinds of guns they had.

  I pulled my dad to the side and asked about that man.

  “Brent Talley. Keep an eye on him,” Dad said. “Sounds like he is wanting to know who is armed and who isn’t. I understand he spent some time in prison for armed robbery. There are always those who will take advantage of a situation however they can.”