End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  “I wish,” Mark replied. He slowly climbed out of bed and put his bare feet on the hardwood floor. In the corner of the room sat their luggage. The motor of a chainsaw rang from outside, followed by the cutting of tree limbs and brush. It had to be James, already up and at it. James liked large bonfires in the backyard at night.

  Janice rose from the bed and rubbed her eyes. “Our first day here,” she said. She paused and let out a large sigh. “Day one,” she added.

  Mark walked back to the bed and sat on the edge next to Janice's outstretched legs.

  “I'm going to find out all that James knows today,” he said, staring ahead.

  The ceiling fan above spun in a slow circle as the result of the small amount of power he was able to harness through the many solar panels on the roof of the house. The room was small and furnished with the basics, but they were comfortable for the time being. Mark felt safe there. Janice was glad of that, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they had left Savannah sooner than necessary.

  “I feel like I should be at work right now,” she said, brushing her hair back with her favorite black-handled hairbrush. “What of our jobs, Mark?”

  “I know it feels weird, honey, but this is a crisis, and the beginning of more to come. That's why it's crucial to find out whatever we can.”

  Janice looked worried. “How much worse will things get?” she asked.

  Mark stood up without directly answering here. “I'm going to the kitchen to see if there's any coffee. Do you want a cup?”

  Janice stretched. “Coffee in the afternoon, sure,” she said.

  “How do you know it's the afternoon?” Mark asked.

  “Just a hunch,” Janice said.

  Mark opened the bedroom door and left the room. The rattling from the chainsaw outside continued. Janice looked up at the fan blades slowly twirling around. She felt sick. She wanted to go back. She wasn't ready to accept their decision, even if she knew it was the right thing to do.

  On the kitchen counter sat a plate of watermelon slices left by James. Mark examined the small kitchen carefully. There was a stove, refrigerator, dining table, kitchen counter, faucet, and four overhead cabinets. The walls were painted light blue. The counter and the cabinets were solid pine, and wood-stained. Near the sink sat a coffee maker, the pot still half full. Mark reheated the pot and waited patiently while leaning against the counter. There was no sign of the Robinson family yet. He wondered if they would make it.

  After a few moments, Mark walked over and flipped the kitchen light switch. The bulb turned on. Such a simple thing fascinated him. The coffee looked ready, so he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and filled them up. Janice was right. It had to be at least early afternoon with the sun as bright as it was outside. Mark walked back to the bedroom balancing a plate and two mugs.

  “Your breakfast in bed,” Mark said, pushing past the door into their room.

  Janice still lay in bed. “Thank you, my prince,” she said jokingly.

  Mark handed her a plate and placed her coffee cup on the nightstand. “I've gotta go talk to James soon,” Mark said, giving Janice a kiss on her forehead.

  “Suppose I should get up soon too,” Janice said. She took a bite of watermelon and chewed slowly.

  Mark sat down on the bed next to her. “No rush. We're going to take it easy today,” he said.

  “Did the Robinsons show up yet?”

  Mark took a bite of watermelon and shrugged. “Haven't seen them yet.”

  “I hope they're OK,” Janice said.

  “Me too,” Mark replied. He turned to the door and walked out.

  “Mark,” Janice said, causing him to stop.

  “Yes?”

  Janice hesitated then spoke. “Should we have done more to warn our neighbors? Our friends, our family? I need to get in contact with my parents. Hiding here just seems—there's just something off about this.”

  Mark walked back over to the bed. “Listen. You're having doubts about this, that's natural. But we've been over this many times, and we're doing the right thing. Your parents live in Dallas. We don't have enough fuel to get there.”

  “What if everywhere else outside of Georgia is normal? It might not even be that bad.”

  Mark sat down on the edge of the bed. He sensed that Janice was trying to convince herself that the bug-out house was a bad idea. “We'll get in contact with everyone soon. We're going to find out exactly what's going on first. This house and everything here is temporary. We have all that we need for the time being.”

  “But—”

  “At this moment, we've got to look out for ourselves.” Janice didn't respond; her face was still stricken with concern. “OK?” Mark said, placing a hand on her leg.

  Janice nodded. “OK,” she said with a quick smile.

  “I'll be back in a little bit,” he said, rising from the bed. He walked out and left Janice with her thoughts. She took a sip of coffee and looked ahead in blank stare.

  Mark walked outside onto the back porch and looked toward James, who had stopped sawing. He was dressed in a hat, T-shirt, jean shorts, and flip-flops, sorting through a pile of freshly cut branches and tossing them into a red wheelbarrow. It was plenty hot out and Mark could feel himself beginning to sweat. James was standing under the shade of several trees, and the chainsaw was on the ground to his side. He looked up at Mark and waved.

  “Good afternoon,” James said.

  “What time is it anyway?” Mark said, walking past the bonfire pit. Several folding chairs circled the pit.

  “It's about three,” James said.

  Mark shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he said. He looked more closely at James, trying to see if he was wearing a wristwatch. “How do you tell the time out here? Do any clocks work? My watch stopped working yesterday.”

  “I’ve always been good with the time,” James said.

  “So you're guessing?” Mark asked.

  “Just using my knowledge of the Earth's rotation,” James answered, throwing some twigs in the wheelbarrow.

  “Oh, great, we're going off James's internal clock now,” Mark said, throwing his hands up.

  “We could always do worse,” James said.

  Mark knelt down, picked up a stick and began to push it into the soft ground. “I'll make us a sundial,” he said.

  “I’ll cook some food in a little bit,” James said. “Maybe even have a little bonfire.”

  Mark stood up. “Any word from the Robinsons?” he asked.

  “Not since yesterday,” James said. “We'll be seeing them soon.”

  “Thanks for the watermelon,” Mark said.

  “No problem. I know it wasn't much, but it was still fresh at least.”

  Mark shifted around in place. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but didn't know where to start. “You think you can fill me in a little now?”

  “What do you want to know?” James asked straightforward.

  How much of the country is affected?”

  James took a step back and clutched the wheelbarrow. “Tell you what, Mark. Let's discuss everything inside. It's too hot to be chatting out here.” James pushed the wheelbarrow toward the fire pit as Mark followed. “The truth is that I don't know much more than you. I'm going by what I've heard on the radio.”

  “It's amazing that our radios still work,” Mark said.

  “It's all about protecting the elements from the magnetic pulse. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it would work or not, but I'm glad it did.” Mark took the branches out of the wheelbarrow and threw them into the fire pit. “Get Janice and we'll all sit down and talk about everything. I'll show you what supplies we have and anything else that'll put you guys at ease.”

  “I'll try to get her out of bed,” Mark said.

  “Early to bed, early to rise...”

  “Thanks, James. You're like the father I never had,” Mark said sarcastically. The two men walked back inside the house ready to talk business.

  Once inside, James w
alked into the kitchen and rested his elbow on the counter. Sunlight beamed through the window above as dust motes floated down like snowflakes. The house was quiet, comforting even. The hardwood floors were clean, the furniture in the living room arranged properly. Everything looked to be in its right place. James listened for the sound of any approaching vehicles but heard nothing beyond the rustling of squirrels and random bird calls from the tall pine trees that surrounded the house. He took a plastic cup from the cupboard and filled it with water from the faucet. “Love my well water,” James said, before taking a gulp. He left the kitchen and walked down an adjacent set of stairs to the basement below.

  Mark heard noises coming from the kitchen. He nudged Janice. “Come on,” he said. “Let's get up. James said he wants to talk to us.”

  Janice was sitting on the bed with her feet nearly touching the floor. Her hands cradled the coffee mug as she looked at the wall in front of her with a blank stare. Mark waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Janice. Hello?” Janice snapped out of her trance and looked up at Mark.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “James wants to talk to us,” he repeated, clearly awaiting the meeting.

  “All right. Let's hear what he has to say.” She stood up, slipped into her jeans, and followed Mark out of the room.

  ***

  The darkened basement was cool and comforting, cut off from the outside world. Light came into the room from tiny windows near the basement ceiling. James sat at a table in the corner with a large radio and microphone before him, scribbling into a notebook ledger. Shelves and shelves of canned goods lined the concrete walls. Below the shelves sat four large plastic containers full of batteries, medical supplies, water filters, flashlights, sanitation material, and other items. He heard footsteps coming down the wooden stairs and turned around. Mark and Janice approached, scanning the area.

  “Welcome to the basement. Not much has changed with it since the last time you saw it,” James said.

  “As gloomy as ever,” Mark said cheerfully. He and Janice stopped at the shelves of canned foods and marveled at how much James had stocked up. There wasn't an inch of space left for anything else on the shelves.

  “Told you guys I know what I'm doing,” James said, leaning back in his chair and looking proud.

  “Never doubted you,” Mark said. “How long do you think all this food will last?” In addition to canned soup and preserved food, there were sealed Mason jars—large and small—of meat, poultry, beans, pickles, jams, tomatoes, peaches, apples, and more.

  “Probably a month or two,” James answered.

  “How's the hunting around here this time of year?” Mark asked, still scanning the array of goods on the shelves.

  “There's deer, rabbit, quail. We can also fish in the river if need be. Should have invested in some livestock prior to this.”

  “I am not eating a deer—or a rabbit, for that matter,” Janice said.

  Mark put an arm around her. “You may not have a choice, honey. If we run out of food—”

  “I'd rather starve,” she said.

  Mark laughed.

  James stood up and grabbed two folding chairs from against the wall and pulled them over to the radio table. “Please...have a seat,” he said.

  Mark and Janice sat down, eagerly awaiting the news.

  “How'd you sleep, Janice?” James asked.

  “Fine, thanks. I feel plenty rested.”

  “All right, let's get down to business,” James said. He was fiddling with the knob on the radio but couldn't find anything but static.

  Mark turned to James. “Lay it on me,” he said.

  James pointed to a secure wall locker chained to the other side of the room. “Weapons are secured in the vault, just to let you know,” James said first. He pushed his rolling swivel chair away from the radio and leaned back. “Now, let's discuss the plan,” he said.

  “You said we have months of food?” Mark asked.

  “That's correct,” James said.

  “Janice and I had planned to stay here for a week, hoping by then they will fix the power.”

  “Best-case scenario for recovery following an EMP is two to four months,” James said.

  “Where did you read that?” Janice asked.

  “EMP Commission Report,” James answered.

  “How do they know that?”

  James clasped his hands together as though he were back in the classroom. “Well, Janice, the best they can do is forecast and estimate. They use models and research to draw their conclusions. For instance, a grid shutdown could be managed in a few weeks if the resources were available to replace the transformers and generators that the EMP pulse took out.”

  “And if resources aren't available?” Janice asked.

  James looked down at the concrete floor below his feet and thought to himself. He looked back up at Janice. “It could take years.”

  Mark interjected. “Years? That's impossible. I mean, just think of the hospitals. What's going to happen to all the patients?”

  James responded calmly. “We can only hope that they have measures in place to assist them.”

  “That brings me to my main question,” Mark said, leaning closer to James. “How much of the country was attacked? Has it spread beyond Georgia?”

  “I've heard some things. Nothing definitive, but I've heard some chatter on the radio.”

  “What are they saying?” Janice asked.

  “It's not just around here,” James said.

  “Who else got hit?” Mark asked with his eyes widened.

  “The entire state of Georgia could very well be off the grid,” James said. “Yesterday morning, I was teaching a class when we lost power. Outside, the buses and cars sat motionless. Students and faculty were stranded. Fortunately, my bug-out truck started, and I took a stranded colleague home. I haven't been back to the college yet.”

  “Have you heard anything on the radio?” Mark asked.

  “I talked with a man from South Carolina. He told me they were experiencing the same thing. Loss of power. Vehicles wouldn't start. Then I heard from people in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin who all said the same thing.”

  “What about New York?” Mark asked.

  “Haven't heard anything from New York yet,” James said.

  Mark and Janice were silent. James had already considered the fact that states, cities, towns, and neighborhoods all around the country faced the same thing. He believed it to be an act of war. The electromagnetic pulse from a single missile wouldn't have the range to affect the entire country. There had to be multiple strikes, hundreds of missiles perhaps. James leaned forward and attempted to pull Mark and Janice from their distraught trance. “What we need to figure out, what I've been trying to pull from the radio, is who launched the strikes and why.”

  Mark and Janice remained unresponsive as James continued. “I don't think it was a terrorist organization. They would use a dirty bomb, a chemical weapon, something to annihilate us. They don't give a shit about taking out our power. This attack is too sophisticated. It has to be a country of similar status and power to our own. Russia or China.” He stopped and rested his index finger over his chin. “Not China. What would they get out of it? Their economy is heavily reliant on our trade. It would be self-defeating.”

  “Why Russia?” Mark said. “What about Iran or North Korea?”

  “Or Canada?” Janice said, quickly laughing at her own joke.

  “Janice, this is serious,” Mark said.

  “I know that,” she said back.

  The thought of the EMP aftermath extending beyond Georgia was crushing. Mark believed that their survival depended on the assistance of neighboring states which still had operational infrastructures. If half the country or more had gone dark, the possibilities of a speedy recovery seemed to diminish.

  “When the report says two to four months’ time to restore the power grid, are they referring to a single strike? What about mul
tiple strikes?” Janice asked.

  “I don't know for sure, Janice. We have to keep monitoring the radio to get a sense of how big this thing spread,” James answered.

  Mark threw up his hands in frustration. “Sounds like we're screwed then. Just great! No power, no phone, no car, no computer, no television. Yeah, we'll be all right. No one is going to crack. We'll all join hands in peace, love, and unity. I can't wait!”

  James looked at Mark and Janice with concern. “We need to work together here. I know it's frustrating, but we can get through this. We're prepared. We have the resources we need. We have a clear advantage, so let's use it.”

  Mark reached over and grabbed Janice's hand. He then looked to James. “I know that we're safe here, and we appreciate everything you've done for us. We plan to stay here for a week. Afterward, we'll reassess and see if it's safe to go back home.” Mark paused and glanced at the old-fashioned radio on the table, their only window to the outside world. “Think we could try to pick something up on that?” he asked, pointing at the old relic.

  “That's what I'm here for,” James responded. He leaned forward to grab the radio microphone when the sound of an approaching engine from outside startled them. They looked at each other as the loud rattling continued. It sounded like a very old vehicle. Perhaps even a van.

  James stood up. “We've got company,” he said.

  “Could it be them?” Janice asked.

  “Let's find out,” Mark said, standing up and taking her by the arm. They followed James up the stairs, leaving the basement empty.

  A few moments after they left, a heavy burst of static came over the radio, followed by a muffled voice. “Help us...” the voice said. At first the man spoke with a hushed whisper; then his voice grew hysterical over the thick static of the transmission. “Help us, please! We're at a camp. It's in the middle of nowhere. They won't let us go.” Sounds of scuffling followed, then silence.

  The New Arrivals

  Outside, a blue 1977 GMC Chevrolet van drove up the grassy hill leading to the bug-out house. It parked on the side of the house on a patch of dirt and sand, and its loud engine shut off. Terrance was at the wheel. Christina sat in the passenger seat looking tired. Tobias and Paula were in the back. Christina opened her door slowly and stepped out onto the ground. She looked up into the bright sky, squinting, while trying to take in their new surroundings. Terrance got out of the van and stretched.