Here's the bad news. The base commander said it had the markings of a huge EMP, or an electromagnetic pulse. That is a burst of energy powerful enough that it destroys computers, the electrical grid, and anything with a microchip. That means no cars, no telephones, no radio, no power, and no cell phones for who knows how long. He thinks the EMP was powerful enough that it would affect the entire United States, from one coast to the other.
The sliver of good news is that it wasn't the Russians. If it had been them, they would have finished the job. The initial attack would have been followed by a whole heap of nuclear missiles landing all across the country, targeting air bases and major cities. The air base is still standing. If it had been hit, we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation right now.
It's anybody's guess as to who is responsible for the attack. For what it's worth, my money is on North Korea. Just last week they launched a missile that landed right off the coast of California. That's a paranoid nation with little to lose, and the technology to pull it off. Don't bank on it, that's just my two cents worth.
The base commander has sent a soldier up to Kansas City to get more information. There is a hardened Federal government communications system that may still be operational. He said he'll keep us posted.
In the meantime, I want all of you to take inventory of what you have. Things are going to get tight, and there are going to be shortages, but we've all felt that before. Most of us here have grandparents who lived through The Great Depression and have heard stories of what life was like back then. Their faith and sense of community pulled them through, if we stick together, we can ride this out.
Food, medical supplies, water, anything you need. We'll start a message board here in the VFW hall and make sure everyone has what they need. Now, everybody go about your business as usual, and don't start a panic," the sheriff said.
To his surprise, the crowd took the news well considering the gravity of the situation. All around him the townspeople hugged and shook hands, reassuring each other that they were there for each other. This wouldn't happen in downtown Baltimore.
Jack found himself nodding in agreement with the sheriff's assessment, yet at the same time the man's words struck fear in his heart as his worst fears were confirmed. On some level he was hoping he was wrong, that this was a freak accident or some sort of localized event.
A direct hit by a large EMP. No telephone, no communications, no car, no way home. This was a complete disaster.
Chapter 6
Amy swung the Silverado's faded green and white door shut, whispering a silent prayer as she turned the key. The engine roared to life, and she pressed on the gas, relieved to hear the comforting sound of the exhaust pipes. She was worried that the rusty old truck wouldn't start again. It only had to keep running until she and Kenny could get Danny and bring him home, then it could sit in the garage forever, and she'd never say another word to Jack about how much space it used in the garage again.
Kenny opened the garage door and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.
"Your car is parked behind us. How are we going to move your car out of the way?" he asked.
The car was only two feet from the rear bumper, which didn't give her much room to maneuver the truck out of the garage.
"I should be able to get around it," she said.
Putting the gear into reverse, she angled the steering wheel until the power steering unit squealed in protest. She backed up and pulled forward again several times, trying to get around the Prius without hitting the side of the garage. There just wasn't enough free room in either direction.
"Dang it. Why do they make those stupid keyless cars. The gear is stuck in park, I can't even put it in neutral and roll the dumb thing out of the driveway," she said.
She put the truck in park, frustrated with the unwieldy steering. In her Prius, the car's turn radius was so tight she could basically drive circles in the garage. If the problem were reversed, she wouldn't have any problem getting it out. This was getting her nowhere. Danny was across town, and she had no idea if he was OK or not.
"Hang on to something Kenny," she said.
Kenny quickly buckled his seat belt and grabbed the dashboard.
"What are you going to do," he asked.
Looking at the little blue car in the rearview mirror, Amy threw the gear shifter into reverse and stepped on the gas. The truck slammed into the car with a crumpling sound as the truck's bumper met the hood of her car. She winced at the sound, and then pulled forward until the bumper rested against the drywall at the front of the garage, and put the gear into reverse again.
"Awesome," Kenny said.
She gripped the wheel tight, bracing herself, and stepped down on the gas. The truck smacked into the car with more force this time, the Prius' rubber tires screeching as it scooted along the driveway, evidence that it was moving.
She executed the maneuver several times, bumping the car back a few inches each time. Frustrated with how long it was taking, Amy put her foot to the floor, and the truck peeled out on the smooth concrete garage floor, crashing hard into the car. She stood on the gas pedal. The truck's rear tires threw off clouds of smoke, squealing loudly as the Prius was pushed all the way down the driveway to the mailbox.
Kenny laughed hysterically in the passenger seat. "Mom, you've flipped your lid."
"This is no joke Kenny, we need to get your brother and get home quickly," she said.
A short ways down the street she spotted Dan and Mary walking along the road, carrying plastic grocery bags stuffed with bandages and other first aid supplies. Amy honked the horn to catch their attention, and slowed down alongside them.
"Kenny, roll down your window," she said.
"Where are you going," Amy asked through the open window.
"We're going to see if there are any survivors of the plane wrecks, maybe we can help them. We have bandages, blankets, and water," Christina said. The poor woman was on the verge of tears and her husband appeared no better.
Amy tilted her head, returning Mary's forced smile. She was trying to keep her hope up, it was all she could do. Her heart went out to Mary. They must be worried sick about their son, wondering if he was flying when the EMP hit.
"Good luck. I'm sure some of the planes made it to the airport. Some people must have made it through."
Dan stuck his head into the open window, wearing a stern and serious look. "Lock the doors. People are going to want to take this truck from you. Find Danny, and get home as quick as you can. Be safe," he said.
Amy nodded in agreement, though she wasn't quite sure why Dan thought people would try to take her truck. Sure things were bad, but people wouldn't go stark raving mad, would they?
She pulled away, and immediately encountered a reminder of just how badly people behaved when they thought the rules didn't apply to them. The house looked ominous in the truck's headlights, dark and desolate.
The Moore house. A rusted beater of a car sat perched up on jacks in the driveway, the hood propped open. Beer cans were scattered around the yard, and an overflowing trashcan was barely visible under the mountain of trash bags piled up against it. The place was a dump, a hazard. The occupants of the house were even worse.
The anger, fear, and outrage she thought she'd buried hit her like a ton of bricks. She stepped on the gas and sped away from the place.
Everything was still too fresh in her mind. A few weeks earlier she seethed in fury as Rob Moore received a six-month jail sentence for violating the restraining order Amy had in place against him. His light sentence from the court infuriated her, the final insult added to injury.
The oldest of the house, Rob was the only one of the Moore children not currently in a federal penitentiary. At thirty-two, he was a drunk, a dropout, and a career criminal. He also had a penchant for aggressive behavior with women. More than one family in the neighborhood had moved after a run in with the Moore family, but charges were always mysteriously dro
pped before the law took any real action.
The problem with Rob started immediately after they moved into the neighborhood. Amy came home from a the office and changed into her running outfit, excited and ready to complete her five mile daily run in a new setting. As she passed the Moore home though, a drunken Rob stepped out from the driveway and caught her around the waist.
He pawed at her body and tried to kiss her, his foul breath reeking of cigarettes and cheap whisky. She struggled, but he wouldn't release her. He pushed her against his car tried to force her into the back seat, which is when she was finally able to wriggle free of him. She ran home, and called the police.
The police took him in for aggravated assault, and that should have been the end of the issue. Unfortunately Rob didn't get the message. He made bail a week later, and which she only learned of after she caught Rob outside of her bathroom window, peeking in while she was in the shower.
The second incident resulted in a restraining order, along with a promise from police that he would be held in jail without bail until his court date. The nightmare seemed to be over.
Two weeks later though, Jack reluctantly went away on a business trip, after much convincing from Amy that she would be all right. Her boys stayed the night with their grandparents, and Amy had planned to spend a relaxing night with a hot bath followed by a movie. As the tub filled with water in the bathroom, Rob broke the lock on the front door and snuck into the house, taking her by surprise.
Unfortunately for Rob, her vigilant neighbor Dan kept tabs on the Moore children and took notice when Rob went to her front door.
Amy stood in the bathroom, shaking in Rob's clutch and terrified. A silver object flashed behind Rob's head followed by a sickly thump, and Rob dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Dan stood there, a three iron in his hands, his face red and shaking with anger.
Rob moaned on the floor, blood trickling from his head, until the police arrived to cart him away.
The district attorney personally swore to her that Rob would be put away for a long time. During his incarceration though, Rob provided inside information about a high-level drug dealer, and testified against him. The felony charges were dropped, and he received a much more lenient set of misdemeanor charges. The result was a sentence of six months of jail time to be served consecutively with three years of probation.
Amy was thoroughly disillusioned with the criminal justice system by the event. Wheeling and dealing with criminals to get 'dirt' on other criminals just didn't feel right to her. The dirt-bag Rob was being helped by the system instead of being punished by it.
Leaving the Moore house behind, she drove faster through the neighborhood, itching to get Danny home.
People milled in the street, rubbernecking at the downed airliners, pieces of which still burned brightly in the night. She honked the horn at them, which elicited more than a few strange looks in her direction. She felt the weight of their stares as they moved out of the street. Their eyes seemed to bore into her and ask, "Why does she still have a car? What gives her the right?"
Besides the foot traffic, the street was littered with cars that were incapacitated by the EMP. Some had simply stopped in the street, some had crashed, but each one of them forced her to slow down and carefully navigate around in the dark.
Eventually they made it through the neighborhood and made better time driving through the business section of town. There were just as many stalled cars, but since there were two lanes in each direction she had plenty of room to drive around the stalled vehicles.
"Mom, what are they doing," Kenny asked, pointing across the street at a strip mall lining the side of the road.
Thick black smoke poured from the broken display window of one of the shops, red flame casting an eerie flickering light on the other stores in the mall. Next to the burning shop, a stream of people dashed in and out of a liquor store, carrying armloads of stolen alcohol.
A man dashed out of the liquor store right in front of the truck, two bottles of whisky in hand. The man looked right at her and boldly stepped in front of the truck, almost daring her to keep going.
Amy slowed just enough so that she wouldn't hit the man, then pulled away.
"Looting. Stealing from those stores. It's disgusting," she said.
Amy split her attention between keeping her eyes on the road, wary of any more people running in front of the truck, and watching the looters behind them. In the rearview mirror she saw a man in a leather jacked and a black wool cap run out of the liquor store pushing a grocery cart packed with cases of beer and bottles of liquor.
Another man ran out after him, clearly the store-owner as he was screaming at the man to stop. When the looter refused to stop, the store-owner raised a handgun and pointed it at the looter's back. A chill ran through her spine as he opened fire several times, emptying the gun into him.
The looter slumped over the cart and fell to the ground, a dark outline on the pavement lit by the store fire.
Shot in the back over a cartful of alcohol. Her throat went tight with fear, her stomach sick with disgust. Amy pressed on the gas and barreled down the street, anxious to be out of the area.
One more city block to go and she would be on the highway, past this nightmarish scene.
Her heart lifted as she spotted the highway onramp in the truck's headlights, clear of cars and not a person in sight.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she hit the gas and raced up the ramp. As the truck cleared the top of the onramp, Amy slammed on the brakes, thrown against the seat belt as the truck lurched to a stop.
The highway was completely impassable. Cars, trucks, and tractor-trailers were stopped at every conceivable angle. A few people walking along highway turned toward her, taking notice of the light from her headlights. A man ran down the emergency lane of the highway, picking his way in between the stalled vehicles.
A hand pounded on the driver's side window, startling her. A man in a suit gestured for her to roll down the window. "Lady, can you give me a ride home? Something has happened to all of the cars, they stopped working. I was stuck at my office last night, my wife has to be worried sick about me."
Amy shook her head from side to side. "I'm sorry, I can't help you," she said through the window.
The man pulled at the handle of the door, a scowl on his face. "Come on, you've got plenty of room in there. It's just you and that kid. Don't be like that, give me a ride."
"Mom, lock the door," Kenny whispered to her.
Amy's hand flew out, pushing the lock down. There was another click as Kenny locked the passenger door.
The people from the highway were at the on ramp now, congregating around the truck. A woman approached the passenger side, pulling at the handle.
"Please, can you take me to my sister's house?" the woman asked.
The man in the suit beat his fist against the window. "Lady, give me the truck. I'll give you ten grand for it, I'll write you a check right now. I swear I'm good for it."
Amy glanced in the rearview mirror, then slid the gear shifter into reverse and backed down the on ramp. The truck began to pull away, and a few of the people chased after the truck, banging on the hood angrily.
"Stop," the man in the suit screamed. He ran alongside the truck as she picked up speed down the on ramp, and then climbed into the bed of the truck.
Now that they were clear of the people alongside the truck, Amy floored the gas, racing backwards down the entrance ramp. At the bottom of the ramp she spun the wheel hard, threw the gear into drive, and took off, racing away from the angry mob.
The man in the suit crouched in the bed of the truck, pounding on the back window with his fist. After a few blows, the sliding pane flew into the cab, popping out of the frame. The man grabbed a handful of Amy's hair and slammed her head against the rear window.
"Stop the truck right now," he yelled.
Her scalp burned with the pain of the man pulling at her hair. She swerved left and
right, trying to throw the man from the truck, but it only made his grip on her hair tighter.
Kenny pulled at the man's arm, but he was too strong.
Amy fumbled around for something sharp to defend herself with, hoping for a pen or a pencil. Her fingers wrapped around a knob on the dashboard, and she frantically pushed the button in as it registered as something she could use.
"I'm serious lady, pull over now or I'm going to hurt you," the man screamed, slamming her head hard into the rear window.
EMP Aftermath Series (Book 1): The Journey Home Page 4