“My colleagues and I have stationed ourselves throughout the globe to lead the vanguard of change. We are in your schools and universities. We are in your militaries and governments. We have in our ranks generals and politicians—scientists and engineers—anything and everything necessary to set the world about a new course. We have instilled ourselves among the fabric of society over generations, all so we might one day have the opportunity before us. Today, we unravel that fabric in hopes it may be sewn into something better, something stronger. There will be no rule or order except that which you make yourselves. Nobody is coming to your rescue. It is as Darwin said: survival of the fittest, for that is who we will need to usher mankind into the future. Farewell, my friends. And please, to those of you who live to rebuild this world: build a better one than that which dies today.”
As the man ends his speech, I realize what gave me such unease when I first looked into his eyes: the mania. The euphoric excitement burning behind his stare. I haven’t a clue who this man is or what he may be involved with. But I have a sinking feeling that something very bad is about to happen.
The man disappears, the screens cutting back to static gray and white noise before finally settling on the Olympic coverage once again. Only something’s wrong. The athletes no longer march through the stadium. The spectators no longer wave banners and yell out in pride. Even the announcers have been stunned into silence, everyone seemingly digesting the same message we’ve just heard. And then in the span of a breath, the silence is broken— harsh and brutal—as explosions unfurl throughout the stadium in waves, bringing death to all in their wake.
Shouts and cries of alarm sound from our fellow diners even as the screens flicker once more, cutting to an image of The White House meeting the same fiery end. Flicker. The British Parliament is reduced to rubble. Flicker: The Eiffel Tower is toppled. The screens flicker again and again, showing death and destruction rippling across the globe like dominoes falling one right after the other. Buildings explode and crumble, shipping barges are sunk, panicked mobs are crushed beneath falling debris. We sit for I don’t know how long, transfixed and horrified by the mayhem till finally, the screens go black. A moment later the air conditioning goes out and so does the lighting within the restaurant. I reach for my phone, praying it still has power. Dead. Anger and fear coursing through me, I chuck it at the wall as hard as I can and watch it shatter: a thimbleful of destruction compared to the tidal wave which has just rocked the world.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a vivid dreamer. I’ve held a smoking revolver in my hand as I laid waste to zombie hordes; I’ve flown through the clouds at lightning speed, and felt the wind whip my face and sunshine on my back; I’ve explored hidden alcoves of mermaids and strange aquatic creatures below the ocean's depths. I found that with practice, I held some degree of control over my dreams—so when a stray walking corpse sank its teeth into my leg, or I lost flight and plummeted towards the earth, or I ran out of air and started drowning—I could pull myself out, and ground myself back into reality with nothing more than a racing pulse and twisted sheets.
But this is no dream. If it were, I’d have pulled myself out long before now. I would be back home, splashing my face with cold water and telling myself none of it was real. I would turn on the TV and watch late night infomercials until I could get the images out of my mind. But I’m still here, hundreds of miles from home, and this is more real than anything I’ve ever dealt with. The explosions and screams and chaos were real. Hundreds of thousands of deaths in the span of minutes. Sounds of chaos still reach my ears, only it no longer comes from the TV. It's in the panic of those around me. In the screeching of tires and crashes of twisting metal outside.
I hear it, and I know it’s real.
Chapter 2
I pace the living room of my sister’s apartment, still processing everything that has happened and what it all means. My breathing is agitated. My pulse strained. A dull throb beats between my eyes as if my hangover has come early. I struggle to clear my head, the alcohol I consumed blurring my thoughts. I barely even recall the mad rush here. Thank God Emily and Maya only live two blocks down from the sports bar, the few minutes we stood exposed on the street offering us a taste of the pandemonium spreading throughout the city. I have to repress a shudder just thinking about it. And it’s only going to get worse.
My friends are in bad shape. Fear and anger lace their words as they talk over one another, trying to piece together what the hell is going on and what we should be doing. Tears pool in Emily and Maya’s eyes, both trying futilely to power up their cellphones in desperation to phone home. It’s not going to happen. Felix seems the only one besides myself who knows what it means, but makes no headway in getting the message across to the rest of them. His words don’t even seem to register to the girls and only draws curses from Leon who shakes in his anger.
I should help Felix but I don’t even know where to start. My mind is slow. Sluggish. Unable to process anything but the smothering fear that darkness sweeps across this world, and my friends and I won’t be able to outlast it. How in the hell is this even real? How was the world not prepared for such an event? Hatred, white and hot burns through me as I think of those who did this. Damn their reasons. The fact remains that generations of men and women dedicated their lives to destroying ours. I think of my family back home: my mother, my father, a dozen others those pieces of filth would see dead, so their vision might come to pass. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen. I stop pacing, my hands forming into fists at my sides. I look to my friends, the panic in their eyes sobering. This is not how this ends. If night gathers, I will not go gently into it. I will rage against the darkness: against the storm brewing over this world.
“Alright, we need to get the hell out of this city!” My voice rings loud in the small living room, momentarily silencing my friend’s squabbles. I press the opportunity. “Listen, I know this is hard to come to terms with, but the world we know is dead. It died with the power grid.”
Leon stands, eyes flashing. “Oh really, Morgan?” he asks. “And how the hell do you know that? Are you a scientist? An engineer? No. You’re a working class grunt just like the rest of us. You don’t know shit!”
I feel my own temper rise. I force it back down, needing to keep my composure. “I know what I just saw,” I argue.
Leon won’t hear of it. “Could have been doctored,” he counters. “Just because you see something on TV doesn’t make it real.” He paces now, shaking his head and saying we just need to wait it out. Emily and Maya agree. They couldn’t have destroyed everything. Somebody’s still in charge. They’ll sort this out. We’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be alright. I don’t know if it’s denial or ignorance, but the three of them refuse to accept the hard truth of our situation. Felix tries again to get through to them but to no avail, leaving his cheeks red and his voice clipped in frustration. I try a different tactic and march through the adjoining kitchen. Their eyes follow me. I unlatch the lock and throw open the glass door leading to the small patio deck, the sounds from the street effectively silencing them. Things have only deteriorated further since we arrived at the apartment.
“Is that real enough for you?” I ask, gesturing outside. I close the door once more. “You’re right, Lee. I’m a working class grunt just like you. I have no idea the science behind all this shit or if it’s even possible to restore anything. All I know is we were just hit by an EMP, and that this city is a powder keg waiting to explode.”
He knows I’m right. I suspect he’s known all along. Still, it’s hard seeing the look that crosses his face as he finally accepts what’s happened. Now I just need Emily and Maya to accept it as well. “What is an EMP?” Maya asks, confusion briefly washing away her fear.
“It’s an acronym, short for electromagnetic pulse,” Felix says, relieved to finally have a captive audience. “Think of it as a burst of intense energy released high above the earth’s surface. Basicall
y, the pulse will mushroom out and destroy any electronic component it touches. It’s what caused all those wrecks outside. Just about every vehicle made in the last thirty plus years is likely done for good. It’s also the reason behind the power going out and why none of our cell phones are working.”
“Ok, but why is that the end of the world?” Emily asks. “I mean we can survive without cars and cellphones.” Maya nods, agreeing with her.
“It’s more than that Em,” I say. “Without power, there’s going to be no water flowing through the pipes. There’s going to be no food coming into the city. People are going to panic once they realize that, and it's going to get real ugly, real quick. Cities usually don't keep more than three to four days of food on hand. What do you think's going to happen when it runs out? You’ll have a city full of starving, desperate people. Put a gun in the hand of a man who can’t feed his starving family, and I guarantee blood will be drawn. Places like this will be the first to fall, and it won't be because of an invasion or zombie plague or any other bullshit you see in the movies. They will fall because people are capable of great evil when pushed to their limits, and they will shed their morals like a whore sheds clothes to ensure they survive. I don’t want to be here when that happens. Do you?”
I’ve finally gotten through to the two of them. I can tell as fear swells in their eyes and hope washes from their faces. They’re scared—terrified of this new world. I am too, but I can’t let that show. If ever I needed to stay strong, it’s now. “But where will we go?” Emily whispers in a cracked voice.
“Home,” I answer.
“But how?” she asks. “Felix said none of our cars will work.”
“I guess we have a long walk ahead of us. Don’t worry, Princess. We can make it as long as you’re not afraid of breaking a nail or two along the way,” I taunt with a half grin. As children, Emily always tried to keep up with me and my friends. There was no bigger insult than calling her Princess. She smiles despite herself and shakes her head. “End of the world and you’re still an asshole.” Still, she stands and hugs me tightly, and I whisper promises of getting us home. Promises I pray I can keep.
I let her go and straighten myself out. “Alright, you two should start packing," I say, addressing Emily and Maya. "We’ve got a long way to go so make sure to change into some good shoes, hiking or walking shoes would be best. Keep the clothing to the minimum, I’m thinking no more than three sets. And pack something warm—sweaters, gloves, beanies—I know it's July but it can still get plenty cold at night. Keep everything limited to a backpack each. In the meantime, do either of you have any camping gear: tents, sleeping bags, lanterns, anything?"
"I have a sleeping bag," Maya replies.
"Yeah, that's about all I have too," Emily says. "It's been a couple years since I've gone camping."
I shake it off. "It's alright, might as well grab them. We're definitely going to need to get our hands on some supplies before we leave the city though. Right now, just pack what you have.” They scurry off to pack their bags and I turn to Felix. “We should load up what we can. You want to get started on packing some food?” I ask, nodding towards Leon who sits motionless on the couch, staring at the blackened TV as if it holds the answers to escape this mess. Felix looks at Leon once and then back to me, his face as concerned as mine. “Yeah, I got it,” he says, leaving us alone.
“Lee, you alright?” I ask. He doesn’t immediately respond, continuing to stare at the TV with sightless eyes. Slowly they come back into focus as they well with tears. He releases a long breath, his head turning to me. “That was real, man,” he says. There's sadness in his voice. Pain. He understands now exactly what we’re facing.
“I know.” It’s all I can say.
His eyes harden. “It was real,” he repeats, anger and disgust playing for dominance in his voice. “The Olympics...The White House...everywhere else I don’t even know. Explosions and mayhem and it all looked like a fucking movie! So much death...so much destruction...and it was real.” His voice breaks on the last bit, and he buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t move, doesn't make a sound, but I know he's come unraveled. I sit beside him, my hand resting on his shoulder. I don’t promise him that everything will be alright and that we’ll pull through this as I did with Emily. That’s not what he needs right now. So I sit quietly, letting him know I am here for him until he can come to terms with what’s happened. After a minute he wipes his face and turns to me once more. “Our families back home...how the hell are we supposed to get back to them?”
His question cuts to the core of me. It’s the same question which has plagued my mind since the moment everything went black. I wish I knew the answer. But this is a test I’m not prepared for—one I never thought I would be forced to take. There are so many things I do not know: how to get us home, how to keep us safe, how to survive in a world without power. All I know is that our only chance relies on us standing together, and that there is nothing I would not do to keep those who stand beside me alive.
“Together,” I answer.
His eyes bore into mine, and I watch as they steel over, resolve taking root. I can still sense his anger, his fear, his mourning, but only just so as he buries it all deep down. There will be time for all that later. For now, we must focus on the task at hand. He nods once, and I know he understands this as well.
The cabinets are thrown open, a small stack of food lining the counter as we enter the kitchen. It’s not much: a bag each of Cheerios and Frosted Flakes pulled from their boxes; two large jars of peanut butter (one crunchy, one creamy); a bottle of honey; two dozen packages of Top Ramen; maybe a dozen cans of various soups and veggies; a big box of pancake mix; six packages of dry pastas; a five-pound bag of rice that’s maybe half full; a package of Oreos; and 10 count box of Clif bars.
I open the fridge and silently thank Emily and Maya when I spot an entire rack full of bottled water. The bottles are cheap and I plan on finding a better alternative, but for now they will do. The rest of the fridge is mostly containers of leftover take-out and items that will quickly spoil in the summer heat. I check the freezer on a whim and am pleased when I find an unopened five-pound tube of frozen hamburger. I take it out and put it in the duffle bag Felix has unearthed. Worst case scenario I toss the package when it spoils. Best case, I’ll be enjoying a fresh made burger tonight. All together I’d say we have enough food for maybe three or four days. It’s not nearly enough, but it feels good knowing we’ll at least have something when we walk out the building.
While Felix and Leon inventory the hall closet and bathroom for items to take, I go check on the girls. As I enter Emily’s room I find her with an arm around a sobbing Maya and I freeze at the entrance, uncertain on what I should do. Emily looks over at me and I know I can’t just walk away. “Hey...is everything alright?” I ask. I know it's a stupid question. Even if I came in here and found them packed and ready and dry-eyed, things would still be far from alright. But I have no idea what else to say.
Maya tries to answer. The crying ceases briefly as she gasps and chokes in her attempt to form words, but they never come, and she collapses back into sobs once more. I look to Emily, hoping she can fill me in. “It’s her parent’s,” she says quietly. I let out a tired breath as she says this. I get it. Everything is finally getting through to her and it’s crushing. Maine. If I had paid better attention in Geography, I might know how many states lie between here and there. Not that it matters now. With no transportation the answer is the same: too many. And to think, only this morning a trip across the country could be covered by lunch, and all it took was some cash for a plane ticket.
“It just hit me all at once,” Maya chokes out. “I’m never going to see my family again, am I?” She looks right at me as she asks this. I wish she didn’t. She may not be from Durango, may not have grown up together with the rest of us, but she’s been Emily’s best friend since she moved here, and over the last three years she’s become my friend as well. It’s
impossible not to like her—the tattooed, blonde tipped faux-hawked girl with the kindest heart I’ve ever met. Seeing the pain in her eyes now is hard to witness. But I don't look away, and when I answer, I don't lie. I owe her that much.
“No. Not if things are as bad as I believe they are,” I say heavily. We're losing time. Each minute that passes is another minute we won't get back—another minute for others to get their hands on the food and supplies we need. But I don't have the heart to force Maya along in the state she's in. I have to at least try and comfort her. “I'm so sorry, Maya. I wish I had a different answer. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now. But I can just about guarantee your family is thinking about you too, and there’s not a doubt in my mind they’re hoping you’re safe. It’s not safe here. I don't even know if there is such a place anymore. But the quicker we leave, the better our chances of finding it.”
She shakes her head. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just hard...knowing I don’t have a family anymore.” I swear a piece of my heart breaks when she says this. I crouch down in front of her and take both of her hands in mine. “That’s not true. Your family will be with you as long as you live. Those bastards can’t take them away. You have to keep them living through you. And I know it’s not the same, but you still have us. We’re your family now.” She looks up at me and her breath hitches. I continue, staring straight into her eyes so she knows I mean each word I speak. “You heard me. You’re like a sister to Emily, which means you’re like a sister to me. I won’t lie to you, there’s going to be dark days ahead. But whatever we face, we don’t face it alone. We’re family. And family always has each other’s back.”
Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1) Page 2