by Bobby Akart
“At some point in time,” started Colton, stopping in the middle of the front yard, “we’ll have to deal with people who want to take what we have. The strong will band together and prey on the weak. Rather than clashing with a bunch of armed thugs, the idea is to make them move on to easier targets.”
Madison put her hands on her hips and surveyed the burnt landscape across the street. She looked up and down and was still digesting the lack of activity. Several neighbors to their east had congregated in the middle of the road for a cookout. Strange times.
Colton continued. “We’re not living in some fictional reality with stockpiles of weapons and ammo. Our reality consists of a family with one shotgun that none of us have fired. We have several dozen shells of various types, only one of which I can identify—birdshot.”
“For birds, right?” asked Alex.
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” said Colton. “I’m guessin’ buckshot is for deer. Slugs must be for, um, sluggin’ it out. Who knows?”
“There’s a manual, and we could always ask someone,” replied Madison. “I think Rusty has a gun of some kind.”
“In the meantime, our goal is deterrence, not defeat,” said Colton. “We don’t know how to fight, yet. If negotiation is an option, we’ll try that first. If that doesn’t work, a warning shot will be next. We can’t take any chances.”
Alex grasped the concept immediately. “It seems to me anybody, including thugs, would find another house to steal from if they’re getting shot at, right?”
“I hope so,” said Colton. “The idea is to avoid a gun battle and encourage the bad guys to move on to easier targets. There will always be easier targets.”
Madison reached down and plucked a rose near the front entry. She handed it to Alex. “I’m worried about our windows. Look how big they are and near the ground. Anyone could easily break them out and climb into the formal living room.”
“I’ve thought about this as well,” said Colton. “Tonight, right after dark, Alex and I are going to run and make a couple of stops.”
Alex stopped dead in her tracks. “Hold up,” she started, raising her hands. “The last time I went on a run with one of you guys, Mom and I had to run for our lives.” They all laughed.
“Honey, I promise we won’t be out long and most likely won’t encounter any thugs, or KIAs.”
“Very funny,” said Madison. “Why do you have to go after dark?”
“I don’t want the neighbors watching us enter the yards of other people’s homes. There are resources up and down this street that we can take advantage of.”
“Like?” questioned Madison.
Colton gestured across the street. “The O’Malleys have a large roll of black landscape fabric in their greenhouse. We’ll borrow it to affix to the inside of our lower-floor windows. This will prevent any inside light from escaping. At night, we don’t want to become a beacon of opportunity for the bad guys.”
“What’s the other stop?” asked Alex.
“There’s a vacant house being renovated down the street. It’s like having our own Home Depot. We’ll find some wood and other materials to board up the windows. That should at least slow down intruders and encourage them to look for easier pickin’s.”
“You’ve really thought this through,” said Madison.
He was sweating profusely again, a family genetic trait. He’d have to remember to stay hydrated. “I have. Listening to all of the EMP and survival experts on the radio yesterday helped. We’ll go right after dusk when most of the neighbors are inside and before the bad dudes, if any, hit the streets at midnight—the witching hour.”
“Let’s go inside, Daddy, and get out of the sun,” said Alex, apparently concerned about her father sweltering under the hot sun.
Colton nodded and led them around to the side gate, which entered into the pool area. “One more thing before we go inside. The rear is our most vulnerable part of the property. If I were a burglar, this would be an ideal point of entry.”
The Rymans’ backyard consisted of the pool house and the pool contained within a short retaining wall structure. A six-foot-tall wooden privacy fence blocked out the surrounding neighbors and connected the house to the other structures. Heading north up an embankment away from the Ryman home was a wooded, heavily landscaped area that would provide any intruder perfect cover as they approached the back of the house. In the dark of the night, a looter could be right on top of them easily without being detected.
Alex recalled a similar situation. “Mom, do you remember last year when some of the neighborhood boys snuck up on me when I was lying out in the sun? They scared me to death.”
“Yeah, I remember,” replied Madison. “I also remember them running for their lives when you started pelting them with pea gravel.”
“I was listening to my iPod, which allowed them to sneak up on me.”
Colton interrupted. “Exactly, Alex. You couldn’t hear them coming. We can remedy that. You notice how quiet it is now, right?”
Both of the Ryman women nodded their heads. Colton walked over to the garbage cans and pulled out an empty Red Bull can. He poured some pea gravel in it and gave it a shake.
Rattle, rattle, rattle.
“We’ll take some of the fishing line from the gear you found and string it through the pop tops of these Red Bull cans. We’ll wind it through the trees to create a trip alarm. I also have some other barriers and booby traps in mind.”
Madison took the can from Colton and shook it. “Won’t that use up a lot of fishing line?”
“It can. My thought is to create an easy path down the hill for the bad guys.”
“What?” asked Alex. “I thought the idea is to make it harder for them to come down the hill.”
Colton hopped up on the wall and walked up into the trees about twenty yards. “They have this entire stretch to make their way to the house. I don’t think we can block it all, nor can we set trip alarms this far apart.” He started spreading the mulch with his feet between two oak trees.
“You look like the guy on HGTV, Daddy,” said Alex.
Colton nodded and continued. “We’ll create a path that encourages them to enter this six-foot-wide entry point. We’ll set up our trip alarms a few yards above this, which will give us time to react. If they come at us in a group, they’ll get congested here in a bunch, and we can shoot them all at once. The landscaping and the slope creates a natural spot for them to clump together.”
“We’ll have to act fast,” said Madison. “But knowing this is the most logical part of the yard a burglar would use allows us to focus on it.”
“Plus, Alex’s bedroom window is right there,” said Colton, pointing above their heads. “She’ll hear them coming through the woods before they reach the makeshift alarms.”
“If I had a gun up there, I could shoot them as they tried to get away,” said Alex.
Colton knew they were woefully short of weapons to defend their home. He thought of ways to obtain more guns. Making deals was what came to mind first, but it seemed foolish to trade food, the most valued commodity at the moment. An opportunity would present itself. He was sure of it.
Chapter 7
DAY ONE
6:00 p.m. MT, September 9
NORAD
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
There were four aircraft available to the President at all times. Air Force One was primarily used during peacetime when the President traveled around the country or overseas. However, one aircraft was always on alert with a full battle staff. Known as the National Airborne Operations Center, or NAOC, it was a militarized Boeing 747 based in Omaha, Nebraska. The NAOC was ready for takeoff on fifteen minutes’ notice to be available to the President for commanding the military forces during a crisis.
As nuclear weapons proliferated among the world’s superpowers, past administrations began to assess the threats to the United States. Plans were initiated under the Carter administration and fortified by Preside
nt Ronald Reagan that envisioned a protracted nuclear war lasting days or weeks.
The key concern of the Reagan administration was continuity of government—a series of defined procedures to follow to continue the essential functions of government in case of nuclear war or another catastrophic event.
After the September 11 attacks in 2001, the Bush administration initiated the Continuity of Operations plan for the first time. Nearly one hundred and fifty senior government officials and staff from every federal department were escorted to secure bunkers located on the East Coast at Raven Rock, Pennsylvania, and Berryville, Virginia.
The second time the plan was commenced occurred six hours before the impact of the coronal mass ejection. The President declared a national state of emergency under National Security Presidential Directive 51—NSPD 51. This executive order, initially executed by President Bush in 2007, gave the President broad powers to ensure the continuity of government in the event of any catastrophic event that resulted in mass casualties, damage or the severe disruption of the nation’s critical infrastructure.
The President had the option to remain in the President’s Emergency Operations Center—PEOC, located beneath the East Wing of the White House. It served as a secure shelter and communications center during a catastrophic event, an invasion, or nuclear attack. However, after an assessment was made regarding the duration of the repairs necessary to bring back a portion of the nation’s power grid, the President opted for Cheyenne Mountain. She said remaining in the cramped PEOC for over a year was unacceptable.
While en route to Colorado Springs, the President signed a series of executive orders pursuant to her authority under NSPD 51. She placed the Department of Homeland Security in firm control of all national policing and recovery efforts. American troops from abroad were recalled to coordinate with the National Guard to maintain order. FEMA’s role was expanded to include the takeover of food production and distribution, as well as all medical facilities nationwide.
Aboard the NAOC, she instructed the White House Legal Counsel to prepare the Declaration of Martial Law as being necessary to protect the citizenry and insure continuity of government. The declaration suspended certain provisions of the United States Constitution, including, but not limited to, civil law, civil rights, habeas corpus, and such other and general provisions as might be determined in the national interest by the Office of the President. Specifically, she suspended the entire Bill of Rights.
Now firmly entrenched in the bunker located deep inside the Cheyenne Mountain complex in Colorado Springs, the home of NORAD, the President was receiving her first briefings regarding the conditions throughout the nation.
“Madame President,” started Secretary of Homeland Security Blumenthal as he brought the group’s attention to a large computer monitor affixed to the wall. He pointed to the two dozen flashing red rings around the twenty largest population centers in America, including New York—the largest—down to the twentieth largest, Memphis. “These areas indicated by the red flashing lights are not controlled at this time. The National Guard has insufficient resources to stem the tide of social unrest. Frankly, Madame President, they could be declared a war zone.”
“Why don’t you allocate more troops and resources to these cities?” asked the President.
“General,” said Blumenthal, directing the question to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
“Madame President,” replied the general. “The initial recovery plan established by Homeland Security envisioned a joint, collaborative effort between National Guard units and local law enforcement until such point as our troops could be recalled from abroad.”
The President leaned forward and addressed the general. “I’ve recalled the troops. Are you coordinating with local law enforcement?”
“We are attempting to make that effort. However, first responders and the police are in complete disarray. Within these large metropolitan areas, the local political structure has disappeared and so has law enforcement. They’ve simply abandoned their posts and cannot be located due to the collapse of the communications system. Without those bodies assisting our boots on the ground, it’s too dangerous to enter the cities.”
“What do you propose, General?” asked the President.
“One of the problems, Madame President …” The general paused to gather his thoughts. “Frankly, the violence is escalating and gradually moving out of the inner city. Even at this early stage of the collapse, gangs are being formed and taking advantage of the absence of control. We can attempt to clamp down on this activity, but it will require a full military effort, something unprecedented on U.S. soil.”
The President stared at the map, clasped her hands together, and tapped her index fingers against one another. “I have to do everything I can to eliminate the barriers that stand in the way of our National Guardsmen doing their job to restore order. We cannot allow American citizens to shoot each other to death before we have an opportunity to restore the power and initiate a recovery effort. Secretary Blumenthal, we have to do more to protect our citizens. I want you to begin immediate house-to-house searches of all registered gun owners and start a push for confiscation.”
The general interrupted the President. “Madame President, the inner cities are unsafe at this time for our soldiers to conduct these types of searches.”
“General, I wasn’t finished,” admonished the President. “I’m not suggesting we enter the war zone, as Sydney so aptly refers to our inner cities. I want to prevent the violence from spreading into the suburbs and the rural areas. Guns give people a quick, easy and relatively detached method of killing people. If we take away the tools of death, people will still kill others, but it will be far more difficult to accrue the body counts.”
The room grew quiet as the general clenched his fist. He never said another word.
“I’ll issue the necessary directives,” said Secretary Blumenthal.
The White House Chief of Staff spoke next. “The next item on the agenda is the prediction of the second major solar storm scheduled to hit this evening. Scientists at ALMA have provided our skeleton team from the Space Weather Prediction Center the particulars. This next wave of solar plasma will not be nearly as powerful as the first wave, but Earth’s magnetic shield is severely weakened at this time.”
“What’s the bottom line?” gruffed the President, who was still simmering over the general’s challenge to her authority.
“Madame President, this second wave will create a severe health risk to the public in the form of increased radiation levels. A warning needs to be issued as soon as possible.”
The President slammed her hands on the table. “Great. I’ll address the nation. Tell everybody to turn their televisions on tonight at nine. How do I communicate with the country, Syd?”
“I understand your frustration, Madame President,” said Secretary Blumenthal. “We can provide them notice via the Emergency Broadcast Network. Naturally, it’s not fully operational, but it’s something. We can also have the National Guard drive through the streets, making an announcement and posting flyers.”
“Great options.” She sighed, slamming herself back into the chair. “I don’t have enough guardsmen to fight the battles necessary to gain control of our cities. Some of us don’t want to go around and collect the guns to prevent people from killing each other. Now, our only option is to send our depleted forces to issue a warning to others and expose themselves to the radiation in the process.”
“Madame President, the public will understand we’re doing the best we can to—” started Blumenthal until he was interrupted.
“Madame President, there is something else you need to know,” announced an aide who rushed into the room, carrying a stack of papers. “We’ve just received an urgent communication from NOAA. I’m sorry, but the situation is about to get a lot worse.”
Chapter 8
DAY ONE
7:00 p.m. PT, September 9
Point Loma
San Diego, California
Master Sergeant Eduardo Lopez and his fiancée, Lance Corporal Maria Herrera, sat quietly atop Point Loma, watching the festivities below them. Sounds of laughter surrounding the beachfront bonfires rose into the sky as Californians of all ages celebrated the apocalypse.
This evening was supposed to have been a night of celebration for the betrothed couple. Joined by their families and a hundred of their fellow Marines, the two would’ve been married at this moment in a beautiful ceremony planned at the Naval Base Point Loma. The Breakers Beach Deck overlooked a vast stretch of the Pacific Ocean with views extending as far south as the historic Hotel Del Coronado. The couple had envisioned exchanging their wedding vows on the deck amid the sounds of waves lapping on the shore. A magnificent sunset like the one they were admiring now would have capped off the perfect day.
Then the news came that the solar storm was coming. The couple had to make a decision. Do we ignore the warnings, or send our families to safety? Guests had come from as far away as Mexico City. It would have been impossible for them to return and reach their destination fifteen hundred miles away before the storm was expected to hit.
It was the presidential order for all active-duty personnel to go back to their base that provided the answer. The wedding was canceled, the attendees scrambled for their appointed destinations, and seven members of the couple’s families from Mexico crowded into their rented three-bedroom home in the nearby Sunset Cliffs area.
The couple needed to get away and reflect on what might have been and their future. When the power grid collapsed, Lopez and Herrera were torn between their duty to country and obligations to loved ones. Returning to Camp Pendleton meant their families, who spoke little English, would have to fend for themselves. They chose family, and themselves, over the Marines.