by Harley Tate
“What kind of bomb?”
“A nuclear explosion high up in the atmosphere. He said it caused an EMP that knocked out the power grid and the cars. Basically everything that runs on electricity.”
“My phone still turns on.”
Leah shrugged. “Maybe the little stuff is too small to break?”
The doctor sucked on his cigarette and the end glowed. “That sounds crazy.”
“I know, but why else would we still be without power? Why don’t cars work?”
“Are you sure they don’t? I heard an EMT say that earlier, but how do you know it’s true?”
Leah nodded out at the dark. “Do you see any?”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“With six million people in the metro area, there should be cars. Even at midnight.”
“True.” The doctor pulled the cigarette pack from his coat and fished out another one. He lit it off the end of the first. “You have any family, Nurse Walton?”
“A husband and a sister.”
Dr. Phillips dropped the stub of the first cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his heel. “My wife has got to be worried sick. I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Same here.”
Leah turned around to face the parking deck. It was mostly full. She squinted into the dark. “What is that?”
The doctor turned around. “I don’t know. Looks like a backup light over by the cell tower.”
She glanced at him. “What cell tower?”
“Ever noticed all those antennae on the side of the building?”
Leah nodded.
“It’s a cell tower. That’s why we’ve always got service in the hospital. Most emergency facilities have one.”
Leah pulled her coat around her as the light moved. “Is that a person?”
“Looks like it. He’s probably working on the power supply trying to get service. Hospitals are first priority for the phone company.”
“Can I have a cigarette and your lighter?”
“I didn’t think you smoked.”
“I don’t.”
The doctor handed both over.
“I’m going to check it out.”
“Want me to come?”
Leah shook her head. “But if I start screaming, I expect a rescue.”
Dr. Phillips chuckled. “I’ll try my best.”
Leah took off for the cell tower, easing around employee cars as she walked across the top floor of the parking deck. As she neared, a single man stepped into the beam of a portable flood light rigged up on the ground.
She called out. “You have a minute?”
The man jerked up, startled. “Sorry. I’m on the clock.”
She stepped into the light and held up the cigarette and lighter. “I just want some information.”
In the light, she could see he was mid-forties, maybe fifty, with a grizzled beard turning gray in the middle. Construction boots and a workman’s jumpsuit covered up a fit frame. He considered for a moment before closing the distance.
Leah held out the cigarette and the man popped it in his mouth. She lit the end and stepped back.
The cigarette glowed and the man closed his eyes. “That sure hit the spot. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Leah waited as he took another drag. “You work for the phone company?”
“Sure do.”
“Why don’t we have service?”
“Because the grid is toast.”
She smiled like she was embarrassed. “Explain it to me like I’m five.”
The man chuckled. “Think of the power grid like a massive web of electric wires. They run out from hubs, generators, substations, and major stations, all over the city. Usually, when a generator blows or a substation goes out, electricity is emergency-routed around the problem and the power comes back on within minutes.”
“But that didn’t happen this time.”
“No.” The man took another puff before continuing. “This time, something massive knocked the power out for the entire East Coast.”
Leah stared, wide-eyed. “It’s true.”
He froze. “What is?”
“I had a patient come in ranting that a bomb went off in the atmosphere and took out the power grid.”
“I believe it. They aren’t saying much at headquarters, but from what I’ve seen, it makes sense.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He shrugged. “Most cell towers aren’t working. The large ones have backup generators that are supposed to kick on when the power goes out. Some are fried so bad, the generator won’t turn on. Others are damaged and only half-working.”
“Is that why calls won’t go through?”
“Mostly. We have a few towers functional, but so many people are trying to call or get on the web that the system is overloaded. It’s blocking most calls.”
Leah perked up. “But some go through?”
“Some.”
She exhaled. Maybe if she kept trying, she could finally connect with Grant. “When will the grid be repaired?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that easy. If the entire East Coast is like Atlanta, I’d say years.”
“What?”
“This isn’t an easy fix. If the substations are damaged or even most of the generators, the power companies don’t have the capacity to fix them.” He pointed at the equipment behind him. “Even if I get this backup generator running, it’s only got fuel for eight hours. Once the fuel runs out, if the power doesn’t come back on, that’s it. No more calls.”
Leah blinked. “Then why are you here working? If it’s hopeless, what’s the point?”
He dropped his cigarette with a smile. “So a pretty girl can give me a smoke.”
Leah blushed in the dark. “If you get this tower online, will I be able to make a call?”
“Maybe. It’ll depend on how lucky you are.”
She exhaled and took a step back. “Thank you for the information.”
As she turned to leave, the man called out. “Who do you need to call?”
She looked back. “My husband.”
The man fished something out of his jumpsuit pocket. “I’ve got a satellite phone. If you keep it short, you can make a call.”
Leah’s chest swelled with breath and hope. “You mean it?”
He nodded and held it out. Leah took the oversized phone and punched in Grant’s number. It rang and rang. She crossed her fingers. It went to voicemail.
She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Hi baby, it’s me. I hope you’re somewhere safe. I’m still downtown, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be heading to Dawn’s place as soon as it’s light. Love you. Stay safe.” She hung up and handed the phone back. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Leah rolled up on her toes. “Come the morning, if the grid isn’t operational, what happens?”
The man rubbed his beard. “Things get a hell of a lot worse.”
Leah thanked him again and turned around. She hustled back to Dr. Phillips.
“I was about to send in the cavalry.”
She smirked. “And who would that be?”
“Hadn’t figured that out quite yet.” The doctor nodded toward the cell tower. “What did he say?”
Leah filled him in.
“Christ.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s coming.”
“What are you going to do?”
Leah stared out at the night. “As soon as daylight comes, I’m leaving. I promised my husband I’d meet him at my sister’s place up north.” She glanced at Dr. Phillips. “What about you?”
“The same. My wife must be out of her mind.” He walked toward the stairwell and tugged the door open. “Maybe we can go together.”
Chapter Nine
GRANT
Rental Car Facility, Charlotte International Airport
Charlotte, North Carolina
Saturday, 1:00 a.m.
It took lo
nger than Grant expected to pop the lock on the Cutlass. He blamed rust—on the parts and his skill. Once inside, he slid back the driver’s seat and leaned under the steering column.
This part he still remembered. In five minutes, he managed to pull out all the necessary wires, strip them, and tap the starter wires together. The car started on the second try.
Darlene stood beside the driver’s door, shifting her weight back and forth on dirty bare feet. “How do you know how to do all this?”
Grant shrugged. “This is the same make and model as my first car. When I was a kid, I was always losing my keys. They’d be under my bed or in my backpack or somewhere. It was easier to strip the column and tap two wires together than find them.”
“Didn’t you worry about it getting stolen?”
Grant’s eyebrows arched. “A ’77 Cutlass? You’re joking, right?’
Darlene surveyed the car. “You have a point.”
“Get in. Let’s hit the road before anyone hears us.”
Darlene hustled around to the other side of the car and Grant backed the massive boat of a sedan out of the parking spot.
He paused in the aisle. “I have no idea where I’m going.”
Darlene laughed and pointed. “Follow the exit signs. Then we’ll get on the highway.”
Grant did as she suggested, wheeling around the rows of parked cars, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He approached the exit and slowed. “Any trick to opening the gates without power?”
Darlene pointed. “Looks like that one is already broken.”
On the far right of the exit, the crossing arm hung limp and shattered off the post. Grant eased toward it and sailed out of the parking deck. Darlene directed him toward the highway. As they drove past the airport, shouts filtered through the windows.
Grant checked the rearview. A handful of people ran after them, waving their arms. He watched as they grew smaller and smaller. Hopefully that was the last of angry mobs.
He turned onto the on-ramp for the highway and pushed the gas. As he approached highway speeds, Darlene shot her arm out. “Watch out!”
Grant slammed on the brakes. The highway was impassable. Cars littered the road. Some at awkward angles, some slammed into the rear of a car in front. Others just sitting in their lane like the owners parked and went to work.
“The power went out at five. Rush hour.”
“So all of the cars on the highway…”
“Stopped working.” Grant’s breath caught as a man appeared in the beam of his headlights. He was running straight toward them. Soon another followed. Then a woman and a child.
“Help!”
“We need to get home!”
He turned to Darlene. “Is there another way to get to your place?”
She nodded. “We’ll take back streets.”
“Good.”
Grant whipped the car in reverse and gunned it, squealing the tires as the first man came within a few feet. As Grant threw the car into drive, the man slammed a hand on the trunk.
Darlene screamed.
Grant punched the gas. The man faded into a cloud of dust and darkness. Only then did Grant exhale. Getting Darlene home would be a challenge, but he couldn’t leave her in the middle of nowhere. She had a child.
As she pointed to a side street, Grant killed the headlights.
“What are you doing?”
“Not getting caught.” He slowed to a crawl. “We’re a target. As soon as people see the lights, they’ll come running. We need to keep a lower profile.”
As Grant’s eyes adjusted to the moonlight, he picked up speed. “How far do you live?”
“Five miles.”
Grant calculated in his head. At this rate, they’d make it in an hour, assuming all went well. He nodded. “Where do I turn?”
Suburbs of Charlotte, North Carolina
Saturday, 2:30 a.m.
The Cutlass eased over the curb and onto a driveway of a squat brick ranch. The curtains in the picture window fluttered.
“Thanks for driving me home.”
“You’re welcome.” Grant stayed in the driver’s seat while Darlene collected her purse and shoes.
She pushed open the door. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Inside?”
“You need to eat and get a few hours of sleep.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
Darlene stared at him. “You stole a car and navigated through half of Charlotte in the dark. The least I can do is get you some food and a couch to sleep on for a few hours. You can leave for Atlanta in the morning when you can see what’s coming.”
Grant hesitated.
“Staying up all night won’t do you any favors.”
“You’re right. Thanks.” Grant pulled the circuit wires apart and the car shut off. After fishing his suitcase out of the back seat, he hurried to catch up with Darlene.
The front door opened before she could stick her key in the lock.
A girl of about nineteen or twenty stood in the entryway, one eyebrow about to take flight off her forehead. “Get stuck in traffic?”
“You don’t want to know.” Darlene pushed past her. “Liv, this is Grant. Grant, Liv.”
Grant stuck out his free hand, but the girl only wrinkled her nose. “Nice car.”
“Thanks.” He followed Darlene into the kitchen. The woman was bent over a checkbook adding on her fingers. “I can pay you $150 now and the rest next week.” She tore the check off the book and held it out.
Liv snatched it and read the amount. “That’s it?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t get paid until the end of the month.”
“Fine. But just so you know, Mattie was worried sick. I had to bribe him with chocolate milk to get him in bed.”
Darlene nodded. “Sorry.”
Grant stood in the kitchen like a third wheel until the girl packed up her things and left. As the door shut behind her Grant spoke up. “Does she need a ride?”
“No. She bikes here. Lives a few streets over.”
He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Darlene opened a cabinet and pulled down two glasses. “Bourbon or whiskey?”
Grant looked up. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
Darlene pulled a bottle from the next cabinet over and poured two glasses. She handed one to Grant. “All bourbons are whiskeys, but not all whiskeys are bourbons. Depends on where they’re made and what they’re made of.”
He took the glass and held it up. “I confess, I’m not much of a drinker.”
Darlene smirked. “Obviously.” She lifted her own glass. “To getting home before all hell breaks loose.”
Grant clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. The amber liquid burned, but went down smooth. “Bourbon?”
She smiled. “Some of the best Kentucky has to offer. Although there’s some good ones made in Georgia now, too.”
While Darlene fished out a tea candle from a drawer and lit it, Grant took a moment to look around. The kitchen was small, but practical, with a farmhouse sink under the window and a range with a microwave above it on the far wall. Perfect for one person.
He took another sip of the drink and eased down into a kitchen chair. “So no husband?”
Darlene sat down opposite and crossed her legs. She rubbed one foot as she spoke. “No. He left when Matthew was only two. Claimed we stifled him, whatever that means.”
Grant swallowed. If the blackout were only the start of whatever happened next, Darlene would have a tough time surviving. He glanced back toward the front of the house. “Do you have a basement?”
She tilted her head. “Partial, but it’s not finished. Why?”
“If anything happens… If you see a flash of light or hear a boom, you need to take your son and get down there.”
Darlene swallowed another sip of bourbon. “What are you talking about?”
Grant exhaled. “The blackout might only be the beginning.”
“You’re scarin
g me.” Darlene got up and rustled through the cabinets before pulling out half a loaf of bread and peanut butter. She made sandwiches while Grant sipped the bourbon.
As she handed him a sandwich, he confessed. “I’m scaring myself, to be honest.” While they ate, he filled her in on what he learned at the Hack-A-Thon Friday morning.
Darlene’s eyes widened, sandwich frozen in midair. “A nuclear attack? Are you sure?”
“No, but better safe than sorry. He finished his drink and set the glass on the table. “First thing tomorrow, you should get food, water, and as many supplies as you can think of. If what I learned is true, it could happen anytime.”
“Will Charlotte be hit?”
Grant nodded. “It’s one of the top twenty-five, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“Should we leave? Go into the country?”
Grant shrugged. “Do you have somewhere you can go?”
“No.”
“Then stay here. As long as you get in the basement, you should be okay. You’re pretty far from downtown.”
Darlene drained the rest of her glass and collected the now-empty plates. “We should get some sleep. I’ll grab you a blanket and some pillows. You can sleep on the couch.”
She walked out of the room and Grant stared at the space she left. He didn’t know what to make of her abrupt departure. Denial? Fear? He scrubbed a hand down his face and let a yawn distort his features.
Whatever it was, Darlene was right. He needed some sleep.
He stood and made his way down a short hall to a living room.
Darlene held out a folded blanket and a pillow. “Sorry I don’t have a guest room.”
“That’s all right.” He took the bedding with a smile. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
She nodded. “No problem. Good night.” She left before Grant could say another word.
He eased down to the couch and slid off his shoes. After a few hours of sleep, he would hit the road. He pulled out his phone and turned it on.
One voicemail and missed call.
He swiped it open and hit play.
Chapter Ten
LEAH