The Final Homestead: EMP Survival In A Powerless World

by Hunt, James

  “It happened,” Mary said, speaking more to herself.

  No phones. No cars. No power. The rug had been pulled out from beneath their feet, and just like the confusion in the hospital that spread throughout the darkened halls, Mary knew that fear would infect every citizen of San Antonio, a city of more than one point three million residents who had just been affected by an EMP.

  2

  Sunshine was in large supply as hooves thundered over the grassy fields. The herd of five hundred steer clustered together, moving lethargically toward the holding pen at the front of the property where they would be tagged and prepared for the long trip toward the rail carts in three days.

  James Bower rode alongside the herd on his mare. The wide and worn brim of his Stetson and the bandana just below his eyes shielded him from the hot Texas sun. A long-sleeve denim shirt, dirty jeans, and boots rounded out the rest of the attire.

  Broad-shouldered and muscular, he sat comfortably in the saddle, conditioned by a lifetime of riding, and broke the animal out into a full gallop.

  The wind whipped at James’s shirt, the sweaty fabric clinging tight to his chest and arms as he leaned forward in the saddle, enjoying the open space. Out here they were free to roam, free to play, free to live.

  When James reached the front of the herd, he pulled back on the reins, slowing the horse and ending both their fun.

  James dismounted from the mare and lowered the red bandana that revealed the grizzled face of a man who had made his living outdoors. He opened one of the saddlebags and took a long pull from his water bottle. It was warm.

  The mare huffed for attention, and James removed his right glove and placed a calloused hand along the animal’s soft neck.

  The bond between man and horse possessed a mythological connection, and he wished he could have been a part of those old Western days, exploring the world on horseback and discovering new, untouched land.

  It was a romantic sentiment, but it was one that was instilled into James by his father, along with his love of old time Westerns. The Rifleman, Bonanza, Gunsmoke, the Virginian. He bet Wyoming in 1890 was a sight to behold. Nothing but open lands as far as the eye could see. So much untapped potential just waiting to be enjoyed by those brave, strong, and skilled enough to harvest it.

  Covered in sweat and dirt, James tipped his Stetson up to the top of his forehead and watched the herd catch up.

  At forty-five, his job wasn’t getting any easier, but despite the long hours, hard labor, and increasingly harsh conditions in both environment and business, James couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

  “Boss!” Luis Martinez rode up alongside Ken, both men covered in dust from watching the back of the herd. “How many are we circling up?”

  “Two hundred for Calvert, fifty for John Stenner, and one hundred for Pete Hamper,” James answered.

  “I didn’t think we closed the deal on Pete yet?” Luis asked.

  “Mary had a call scheduled with him for this morning to straighten him out.” James grinned. “Knowing my wife, I’d say the paperwork on that deal is already dry.”

  “You’d have thought the poor bastard would have learned his lesson by now,” Ken said.

  “You two handle the rest of the trip,” James said. “And make sure Mickey got everything unloaded from the shipment. He should be done by now, but I know his back’s been bothering him, and the stubborn mule won’t stay home to rest.”

  “You got it, boss.” Luis nodded and then heeled his horse, Ken following suit.

  James watched his ranch hands guide the herd toward the pens and helped a few stragglers in the back find their way before he led his mare to a nearby tree.

  The temperature dropped ten degrees in the shade, and James tethered the horse to a nearby branch and let her graze while he stepped to the edge of the shade and gazed out onto the horizon.

  The Bowers Ranch was one thousand acres of land that had been in James’s family for the past four generations. His great-grandfather had bought the land when it was dirt cheap during the Great Depression.

  It was a long hard road before they made any profit, but after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor to trigger the United States into the start of World War II, the demand for meat skyrocketed as the Army needed to provide food for their soldiers. And since then, through feast and famine, the Bowers Ranch had stood the test of time.

  The west side of the property butted up against the highway, which put them in a prime position for transportation, and the train depot was only five miles east. The east border was marked by the Nueces River, which acted as the ranch’s water source. The north end backed into thick woods teeming with game and helped protect the land’s topsoil from any storms making their way from the northwest.

  The long days were made more palpable by the beautiful scenery, and the work gave him a purpose. He wasn’t just providing for his own family out here, but countless others. He was helping feed his country.

  A breeze blew from the east, and James’s mare whinnied in distress. James walked over, placing both hands on the animal’s mane. “Easy, girl.”

  It was rare for the horse to startle. James had been riding with her for the past two years, and the pair had settled into a nice rhythm. They could read each other’s thoughts and moods, and James knew something was wrong.

  One hundred miles east was San Antonio, where his wife and son had traveled this morning. Anxious, James untethered the horse and rode back toward the house, stealing glances toward San Antonio along the way. And while the sun was still shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, James sensed a darkness forming in the distance.

  Grass and dust trailed the mare as James stretched the animal’s legs, and the horse’s hastened pace matched James’s growing anxiousness.

  Slowly, the house and the barn came into view on the horizon, along with the herd that Luis and Ken had brought in, but while the animals were in the pen, his farm hands were standing around in a circle. All three of them held up their arms, catching James’s attention.

  James headed toward his workers, the horse stopping near the group as he pulled back on the reins, a cloud of dust engulfing all of them.

  “What happened?” James asked.

  Mickey kept his hands on his hips, a light stoop in his upper back, but still the tallest among them. “Trucker never showed. Been waiting here all morning. I tried to call Luis, but my phone died.”

  A sour pit formed in James’s stomach as he dismounted the horse. “Luis, Ken, either of your phones working?”

  Both men had the devices in their hands, and they shook their heads.

  “It was fully charged this morning,” Ken said.

  Gloved hands on his hips, James stared at the soil he’d worked on all his life, a northern breeze flapping his shirt and cooling the sweat that soaked his body. With his head tilted down, the brim of his cowboy hat concealed his worried expression from his crew.

  “Start packing up,” James said, leading his horse toward the barn.

  “You sure, boss?” Luis asked. “There’s still plenty to do—”

  “I’m sure.” James tied off the horse to one of the posts in the barn, but didn’t remove the saddle.

  While Luis and the other hands started finishing up with the herd as if they were done for the day, James headed toward the house, the same home that his family had lived in since the land was purchased all those years ago.

  It was a two-story building, plenty of room for a large family. The wraparound porch provided views of the land, sunrises, and sunsets. The large windows could be opened to let the cool breeze flow through on a hot summer day. It was the perfect home to raise a family.

  And while the integrity of the building hadn’t been compromised since its construction, there had been a few updates.

  James lined the top of the roof with floodlights that circled the entire house, and large solar panels had been installed. The electricity they generated were stored in batteries that could be used as b
ack-up power in case of an emergency. Rain collectors were also set up on the roof and funneled water into large bins at the corners of the house.

  The water wasn’t potable, but it was used for watering the plants in the garden or for sewage. They had well water for all of their drinking, bathing, and cooking needs.

  Inside the house, James paused for a moment, listening for the hum of the air conditioner, but heard none. He stared at the light switch in the house’s foyer, which should have turned on the light above his head. But when he flicked it up, there was nothing.

  The rest of the house was in the same condition. No television. No computer. No appliances. Everything was shut off. He found his cell phone on the kitchen counter, he never carried it with him in the fields, and saw that it was also off like Luis’s and Ken’s.

  Finally, James walked toward the radio, the old device consisting of nothing but tubes with an antenna, very old technology.

  The solar panels provided enough juice for James to turn it on, and when he scanned the channels, the static he heard confirmed what he didn’t want to believe.

  The back door to the kitchen opened, and Luis led Ken and Mickey inside.

  James flicked off the radio and then turned toward his ranch hands.

  “What’s going on, boss?” Luis asked.

  James shifted his weight from his left heel to his right and cleared his throat. “There’s been an incident. Most likely an attack.”

  “By who?” Luis asked.

  “I don’t know who, but I know what they used,” James answered. “It’s called an EMP.”

  James went through the scenario, slow and calm, and studied the expressions of the men that had worked for his family for years. They all knew about his family’s lifestyle choice, and he’d even managed to convince them to start prepping themselves. But he wasn’t sure if any of them were prepared for what they were about to face.

  “Nothing works?” Luis asked. “How is that even possible?”

  “There are a few theories about how something like this could happen,” James answered. “An EMP detonated in the atmosphere in the middle of the country, several smaller EMP devices detonated at strategic locations… I’m not sure about the how or the why, but I know what comes next. You need to go home, collect your families, and gather as much non-perishable food and water as you can, along with any medications that your family needs. If you have cash, use it at the store if they’ll still take it, but do it quickly.”

  Ken and Mick exchanged a glance, but Luis kept his attention on James.

  “How long?” Luis asked.

  James looked at him, frowning.

  “How long is this going to last?” Luis asked, elaborating.

  “It depends,” James said. “If the outage is restricted to something local like the San Antonio area, maybe a couple of months. The state? Maybe a year before things return to normal. But the whole country? An entire nation without food and water or basic necessities and with no way to communicate?”

  The crew filled in the blanks for themselves.

  “Go home,” James said. “Take the horses. Be with your family tonight, tell them what I told you. And be back here tomorrow morning, same time, to start your shift. We can talk more about it then.”

  Ken frowned. “We’re still working?”

  “The world doesn’t stop just because the power goes out,” James answered.

  Ken and Mick lingered for a little bit, the shock of the news still settling in their minds, but James marched past them and outside, heading back to the barn.

  “And where are you going?” Luis asked, stepping from the backside of the house.

  “I need to grab a few things,” James answered, and then he untethered his horse, mounted, and galloped off toward the fields and to a place he’d hoped he’d never have to go.

  3

  One of the joys that James had always experienced when riding was the freedom of the open space. He could clear his mind and be present in the moment. But this ride was plagued with thoughts of the unknown. Despite his worries, the sun still shone in the sky and the grass still grew from the ground. And while James pushed the horse toward the center of the property, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

  James and his family had practiced for something like this but up until today, everything was done in a controlled environment. And while James was confident in his skills and those of his family, no one could ever prepare for every possible outcome. Adaptability was key.

  “Whoa, girl.” James eased back on the reins, and the horse slowed to a trot.

  At the center of the Bowers’ ranch was nothing but open fields as far as the eye could see. Unless you knew what to look for, the small stack of brush blended seamlessly with the field, but beneath it was a last resort should his family ever need it.

  James dismounted and let the animal trot and graze. He knew she wouldn’t wander far, and he wouldn’t be here long.

  James walked to the middle of the brush and shoved his hand through one of the bushes, feeling around for the metal lever. He pressed it down and then heaved the hidden metal door open, the hinges groaning.

  James stared down into the black hole and the ladder that dropped thirty feet into the soil. He descended into the darkness, his boots triggering a thud with every step down onto the next metal rung.

  At the bottom of the ladder, James reached for a crank handle and turned it a few rotations, lighting up the bunker’s interior as the kinetic battery charged with every rotation.

  The bunker was shaped like a cylinder measuring one hundred feet in length and twenty feet wide. It would allow three individuals to survive for three months.

  A second tank was buried less than one hundred feet away, providing a water supply, and the shelves that lined the walls contained MREs and other provisions.

  But James walked past the food, water, and medical supplies, past the small bunks and the tiny corner carved out for entertainment and games, and reached for a bin near the air filters that helped with the ventilation chutes.

  Among the normal dry storage boxes, James searched for a particular box, one that he had built just for this occasion. A Faraday cage.

  It was a special container used to protect electronic devices from an EMP. Inside, James had placed a few minor electronics that would come in handy during the outage. Walkie talkies, flashlights, and a small tablet that Jake had wanted stored inside should the world end and he still wanted to play games.

  Having what he needed, James returned to the ladder and glanced back on the cylinder tube. Most people viewed their lifestyle as something that was for fanatics, people who lived in mud huts or tents in the middle of the woods with nothing but the clothes on their back and a hunting knife. And while James happened to be good friends with some folks who trained for such a lifestyle, most preppers didn’t fall into that same category. They came in all shapes and sizes. They lived in big cities and small towns. They were mechanics, soldiers, doctors, and teachers. They were anyone who understood that when push came to shove, you had to know how to take care of yourself. Because in the end, you were your most valuable resource.

  He ascended the ladder, and the battery on the hand-cranked light finally ran out, sealing the bunker in darkness until it was needed again.

  Topside, James quickly mounted his horse and headed back toward the house where he found his ranch hands already gone.

  James headed upstairs, grabbing his personal go-bag from the closet, which housed a few essentials, including the map that contained the route he’d take to meet with his family.

  Part of their preparation involved scenarios if the family had been separated. They figured the most likely scenario for a separation during a disaster would be during a trip to San Antonio for one of Jake’s treatments, so they had a predetermined location where they would meet outside of the city in case communications were down. Like they were now.

  The family ran the route a few times a year during differen
t weather conditions to ensure they wouldn’t run into any big surprises along the way. But that didn’t eliminate every threat.

  People would be confused and scared, desperate to survive. And desperation bred poor choices.

  James flattened the map on the bed. He’d committed most of the trip to memory but with his family stuck in the city, he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d need to keep off the main roads because most people wouldn’t have a working vehicle, and he’d stick out like sore thumb with his ride.

  Confident about the route, James refolded the map and headed downstairs where Luis was there to meet him at the front door.

  “I thought I told everyone to go home,” James said.

  “I am home,” Luis replied. “You going after Mary and Jake?”

  James passed Luis, his ranch foreman following. “This trip won’t be easy.”

  “And you know this because you’ve been through it before?” Luis asked, stepping into the same stride as James on their way to the barn. “No way I’m letting you go out here alone.”

  James stopped, pressing a firm hand against Luis’s chest. The pair had been like brothers ever since they were little. And while James had always considered himself the big brother, he knew that the man in front of him was stubborn as a mule.

  “I can’t let anyone slow me down,” James said.

  “I can keep up,” Luis said.

  Deep down, James knew that it wasn’t a bad idea to have someone come along for backup. After all, it wasn’t like James had eyes in the back of his head.

  “You really think people are going to lose their cool over something like this?” Luis asked.

  “Most people don’t live like we do. Out here, we can make it on our own.” James stopped, blocking Luis’s path. “It will be violent, Luis.”

  Luis held James’s gaze and then swallowed, that cocky arrogance sliding off of him. “All the more reason for you to have someone watching your back.”

  James grinned. “You really like learning things the hard way, don’t you?”