Solar Plexus

by Victor Zugg

  Sam stared at Chet for a long moment. “What about you? Why aren’t you there?”

  Chet slapped Sam on the back. “I need backup, and I was thinking—your buggy might still work. It’s made from an old jeep and it has no advanced circuits to burn out.”

  “Wait a minute—you’re telling me that a solar storm knocked out electricity around the world and it won’t be coming back on for months or years.”

  “That’s right.”

  Sam walked into the living room and parted the blinds on the front window. Most of his neighbors were standing in their yards or gathered in small groups, talking. He walked to his bedroom and returned to the kitchen pushing the home key on his cell phone. Nothing. Sam stood still for a moment, shook his head, and then stared at Chet.

  “If you had heard the president last night you’d understand,” Chet said.

  “Martial law, seriously, the president declared martial law?”

  “That’s right, Chet replied. We are currently in a state of martial law. That basically means the military is in charge.”

  “Does the military have electricity?”

  “If their generators were shielded they do. Aircraft are probably grounded, but a lot of their vehicles were built to withstand this kind of thing. And according to the president, they were able to stockpile some supplies and equipment in bunkers and underground compounds.”

  “Dammit, Chet! You’re serious. This is not a joke.”

  “No joke, my friend.”

  Chet’s face was solemn. Sam could usually tell when Chet was joking, which was often. But Sam couldn’t detect any of the usual tells on Chet’s face. He looked genuinely concerned.

  “What now?” Sam asked.

  “Unless you have a large cache of food and water I don’t know about, we need to stock up.”

  Sam stood motionless for a few moments, nodded, and then moved toward the bedroom. “Okay, let me change.”

  Chet motioned for Sam’s attention. “We’ll be looking at chaos soon. You should arm up.”

  Sam paused, stared at Chet for a moment, and then continued padding his way across the shiny wood floor. He entered the bedroom and stepped directly to the window. He parted the blinds and peered into his backyard. His yard looked pretty much as it usually did. All of his neighbors’ yards looked pretty much as they usually did. Grass was cut, trees were trimmed, and all was ready for a new day. A regular day. Except according to Chet, this wasn’t a regular day. And based on what he saw out the front window—all of his neighbors milling around in their yards and on the street at o-dark-thirty in the morning—they must have also decided this wasn’t a regular day.

  Sam shook his head and then padded across the carpet to his dresser. He dropped his slacks, stepped out of his boxers, and slipped his polo shirt over his head. He opened various drawers and threw selected items of clothing on the bed. He picked up jeans in one hand and a pair of dark tactical pants in the other. He shifted his gaze back and forth and finally opted for the tactical pants, along with a black t-shirt, boots, and a long sleeve shirt. He put the clothes on leaving the shirt unbuttoned.

  He went to his nightstand, opened the top drawer, and pulled out his Smith and Wesson M&P 9 and its holster. He strapped them to his waist with a sturdy black nylon belt along with a fixed blade Buck knife in a sheath.

  He returned to the kitchen and found Chet opening cabinets and pulling out food items. He had already placed a number of items on the counter. He opened the pantry and pulled out a six-pack of bottled water.

  “You don’t have near enough food or water,” Chet said.

  “Not for an apocalypse, I don’t.”

  Chet stopped what he was doing and turned to Sam. “Are we ready to head out?”

  Sam placed both hands on the counter. “I’ve been thinking. I have the cabin in Tennessee. It’s fairly isolated on ten acres, and there’s a mountain stream that runs year round.”

  “Yeah, if you can get there,” Chet said.

  “We.”

  “We?”

  Sam put a hand on Chet’s shoulder. “That’s right, we—as in you and me.”

  “You want me to go with you to Tennessee. What about my house here?”

  “Chet, when food runs out in about two days, this entire area will be a war zone. Our best chance for survival will be to high-tail it out of dodge and head for the hills. The land there has food and water. And best of all, it’s defendable. Aside from you being my best friend, I need your help.”

  “I guess there really is nothing keeping me here. I could lock the place up and hope for the best. We’d need to pop over there so I can grab some gear and all the ammo I can carry.”

  “Now you’re thinking.”

  “What about the grocery store?”

  “I say we skip it, take what we can from our two houses, and get a head start on what will surely be a mad dash out of the cities. But the first thing we need to do is make sure the buggy runs.”

  Chet nodded, and they both headed for the front door.

  Outside, many of the neighbors were still standing around in their front yards, obviously trying to figure out what they should do. Most were too old to walk very far. Some were inspecting their car engines. Some were still gathered in small groups talking.

  No one paid much attention when Sam and Chet stepped out of the house. They crossed to Sam’s detached garage and went inside.

  Parked inside was a shiny, brand new, Toyota 4Runner. And next to it was a much less shiny buggy. If it weren’t for the well-known Jeep grille, it wouldn’t have been recognizable as a Jeep. Most of the body was composed of large diameter steel pipe, some painted dark green and some black. There were yellow doors, a yellow hood, and a yellow canvas top, but the rest was open. No windows except for the windshield. The cockpit included two bucket seats and a standard shift. The bed was open to the sky and contained a short bench seat. And, of course, the tires were massive.

  Sam opened the 4Runner door. “Let’s see if this will start.”

  He inserted a key in the ignition and turned. Nothing. Not a dash light of any kind.

  Sam slid out and closed the door. “Dead.”

  Chet slid behind the wheel of the buggy and stuck out his hand. “Key please.”

  Sam handed Chet the ring of keys and then rubbed the hood for encouragement.

  Chet inserted the key and turned. The engine fired immediately and settled into a smooth idle. Chet smiled and quickly turned the engine off. “Don’t want to rile the natives.”

  Sam nodded. “Unfortunately, the gas mileage is shit, but it has an almost full tank which we can top off from the 4Runner. Plus, we can fill the two five-gallon cans I have around here someplace. I say we gear up and head out.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Chet said, as he slid out of the buggy.

  ***

  Sam and Chet emerged from the back door of the house loaded down with gear. Sam had a heavy pack with a water bottle on each side in one hand and a short canvas rifle case in the other. Chet had the six-pack of water, a large nylon bag stuffed full, and two military spec OD green ammo cans. They hurried to the garage side door, entered, and loaded the gear into the buggy’s bed next to two metal jerry cans already sitting on the bed floor.

  Chet grimaced. “Not a lot of room.”

  “It will have to do,” Sam replied.

  “Wait till you see how much stuff I need to bring,” Chet said with a snicker.

  “Be right back,” Sam said, as he headed back to the house.

  Sam looked around each room and checked all the kitchen cabinets and the pantry for anything they wouldn’t be able to live without. Due to weight or size, he left a lot of food items behind. Sam locked and double checked the front door, closed all the window blinds, and exited through the rear door. He made sure it too was locked. He then walked around to the front yard, crossed the street, and approached an older couple still hanging out in their front yard. When the couple saw Sam approaching they both steppe
d to meet him.

  “Are you guys going to be okay?” Sam asked.

  “John and I will be just fine,” The woman replied. “We spoke to Millie last night before the power went out and she and Dave are headed over here right now, walking I suppose. We’re just thankful our daughter was in town when this thing hit.”

  “Sarah is tough enough for all of us,” John said. “Don’t know what I’d do without her. We’ll survive.”

  “John, you’re a scientist, what happened?”

  “I’ve been retired from NASA a long time,” John replied.

  “Still, except for Sarah here, you’re the smartest person I know.”

  Sarah smiled.

  John motioned with his arm toward the sky. “Well, as you know, our planet is constantly bombarded by electrically charged particles from the sun’s coronal surface. The vast majority of these particles do not make it into our atmosphere because they are repelled by the earth’s magnetic field, our magnetosphere. A few particles do make it into the atmosphere at the magnetosphere’s weak points, the northern and southern poles. The northern and southern lights, the auroras, are generated by those charged particles striking the atmosphere.”

  “I saw the lights earlier this morning,” Sam said.

  “The fact that the lights were this far from the poles indicates this was a very strong storm, obviously strong enough to punch through our magnetosphere. We had a similar event in 1859. It has come to be called the Carrington Event. Charged particles entered our atmosphere causing electrical surges that were seen and felt in telegraph lines and even railroad tracks. Of course, back then the world’s civilizations were not advanced to the point where electrical surges could cause much damage. That’s not the case today.”

  “How long will this last?” Sam asked.

  “The electromagnetic pulse or EMP dissipates quickly, but they will have to replace all the transformers and probably a lot of the wiring and relays. They’ll need to rebuild most of the grid. That would be a tough job even with modern machinery, which we now do not have. The president was right last night. Getting power back up will take months, probably years.”

  “How serious will this get?” Sam asked.

  “Hard to say,” John replied. “I’ve read studies that projected losses in the ninety percent range with an event like this. That would be the extreme, I would think, over a multi-year period.”

  Sam dropped his chin to his chest and blinked his eyes several times as he considered what John just said. “I had no idea it could get that bad,” Sam said, as he raised his head slowly and stared at John’s eyes. He looked for any sign that John could be exaggerating but found none.

  “Like I said, that’s an extreme projection. But even fifty percent would be catastrophic.”

  Sam reached out with both hands and took John and Sarah’s shoulders. “No matter what the percentage, things are going to get really bad around here. John, I know you have a gun, don’t hesitate to use it if you feel threatened. Don’t light any candles at night. Keep it dark. And only go out if you absolutely have to. There will be marauders around and they will take your stuff if they know you have anything.”

  John reached up and covered Sam’s hand with his own. “We’ll be okay, what about you?”

  Sam dropped his hands and took a step back. “You know Chet, he’s over here all the time—we’re going to head out to the cabin. The buggy still works.”

  Sarah looked toward Sam’s house. “Your buggy works?”

  “Yep, no advanced circuits to burn out.”

  Sarah’s expression drooped. “That’s a long way, are you sure you want to do that?”

  “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

  Sam reached into his pocket and came out with a key which he handed to John.

  John took the key. “What’s this?”

  “The house. There’s still some food in there. Take what you need. And there are tools in the garage if you need them.”

  Sarah reached out and took Sam’s arm. “Are you sure? We have plenty.”

  “You’ll need more, and I don’t have room to carry it all.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on the house best we can,” John offered.

  “Thanks. Look, I need to scoot. You guys take care and tell Millie what I said about staying low.”

  “We will. Be safe Sam Pratt.”

  Sam turned and headed back to his yard with one final wave. He entered the garage to find Chet organizing the provisions in the back of the buggy. “All set?”

  “Ready.”

  Sam paused for a moment and stared at the buggy. His eyes wandered over to Chet. “Finally.”

  “Finally, what?” Chet asked.

  “Finally, something important to do,” Sam said. “I haven’t been this energized since I left the military. Giving security seminars doesn’t hack it.”

  “Important… driving to Tennessee?”

  “Surviving. Activity worthy of the effort.”

  “I know just what you mean, brother,” Chet said.

  Sam went to the garage door, reached up, and pulled the red release cord. The lock clicked open. Sam reached low under one of the door’s metal cross beams and lifted until the door was fully open. The door stayed up while he turned back to the buggy. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine started immediately. Chet settled in for shotgun. Sam placed the shift in gear and backed out slowly. He stopped about five feet outside the door, got out of the jeep, and went in the garage. He closed the garage door from the inside and pushed up on the locking mechanism. There was an audible metal click as the release lock was reapplied. Sam looked around the garage to make sure he wasn’t forgetting something. He noticed Chet’s bike leaning against the far wall. Sam exited the side door, checked that it was locked, and returned to the buggy. He looked around the neighborhood one last time. All eyes were on him. More specifically, all eyes were on the buggy. Sam waved to John and Sarah as he and Chet sped away.

  ***

  Sam and Chet received stares from everyone they passed as they cruised toward Ormond Beach. Sam noted that there weren’t that many stalled cars on the road. Logical, he thought, since the storm hit early in the morning. Just as Chet indicated, there were a lot of people walking. Most walked with a purpose. Sam realized they were headed for the Publix grocery store and the Walmart at the major intersection ahead. Sam turned off before that and continued the short distance to Chet’s house. The neighborhood was just like Sam’s—people milled around and talked in small groups.

  Sam turned into Chet’s drive and switched off the engine. “I should probably wait here with the buggy.”

  Chet opened the door and slid out. “Good idea, I won’t be long.” He walked to his front door, inserted a key, and stepped in.

  Several neighbors stared at Sam, obviously wondering about the buggy. A neighbor from directly across the street started walking toward Sam. Sam slipped out of the seat and was standing in the back of the buggy when the neighbor arrived.

  “Howdy,” the man offered, “still running I see—must be an old one.”

  “It is,” Sam replied, “but it won’t last long after the gas runs out.”

  “Yeah, but until then it will come in real handy if you can hang on to it.”

  “That’s my plan—to hang on to it that is.”

  The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Fred, from across the way. Where are you guys headed?”

  Sam shook his hand, “Not sure. Right now I’m just helping Chet with an errand.”

  “Always good to have friends,” Fred said, with a little sarcasm. Fred peered into the buggy’s bed. “Looks like you’re planning to be gone a while.”

  “Nah, just moving stuff around. We’ll be back here real soon. And we sure hope the house remains as it is.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Fred replied. “Well, better head back to the missus, she’ll be wondering where I got off to.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Fred. I’m sure we’ll see you arou
nd.”

  Fred waved as he sauntered back to his yard. Sam reached into the back of the buggy and unzipped one of the front pouches on his pack. Inside were four automatic rifle magazines neatly attached with elastic bands. Sam took all four magazines, picked up one of the ammo cans, and got back into the driver’s seat. He opened the can and proceeded to load the four magazines with M16—5.56mm—rounds.

  ***

  The house front door opened and Chet stepped out wearing black tactical pants, a green and black Hawaiian shirt, and a cap sporting the 82nd Airborne logo. In one hand he held a large tactical looking backpack and two canvas bags. In the other hand, he held a green ammo can and two jugs of water. He carried the gear to the buggy and placed it in the back.

  “One more trip,” he said to Sam, as he headed back to the house.

  He emerged a few minutes later carrying a medium nylon bag stuffed full in one hand and a cardboard box under the other arm. He placed both in the buggy’s bed and turned back to the house. He reached in the front door and slid a box out to the porch. He then stood, locked the door, checked it, and then picked up the box. He approached the buggy. “Four gallons of water plus the other two. That’s all I had on hand.”

  “Glad you had that. Otherwise, we would have had to stop soon and filter some water. I packed a Katadyn Mini. It’s small and slow but better than nothing.”

  Chet placed the box in the back, came around to the passenger’s side, opened the door, and immediately noticed Sam’s Sig Sauer semi-automatic rifle with its red dot magnifying sight and a thirty round magazine. It was on the floor leaning against the seat.

  “What’s this?”

  “Just keep it low but handy. I think things are going to get dicey pretty quick.”

  Chet slid the rifle over a bit, sat in the seat, and slammed the door. “We’re off—a road trip,” Chet cackled.

  “I hope that’s all it turns out to be,” Sam said.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sam steered the buggy out of the community and back to the main road. There were more stalled cars and trucks along this section of road and more people, some walking in the middle of the road. Everyone stared at the buggy. Sam had to slow to maneuver around the vehicles and the people. At the Publix grocery store on the corner of the major intersection everyone was walking toward, a long line of people snaked through the parking lot toward the store’s entrance. Several police officers managed the civil crowd. The Walmart parking lot on the other side of the highway also had a line of people, again managed by police officers.