Sinagua Rising

by R. G. Andersen-Wyckoff

  The cities were doomed, if not from the immediate effects of the event, then later from dehydration, starvation, disease and lawlessness.

  Most assuredly, particularly around military bases and installations, the government would establish camps for survivors. But how would people across the country be informed of their establishment and location, and how would they get there?◘

  Chapter 7

  The World

  What was happening in the United States was also happening around the world. But, in some countries they had other critical events that exacerbated the effects of the CME.

  In the dictatorships, the rulers sent their crack troops into the streets to quell uprisings and keep order, but they only succeeded in killing millions of their own people; those who could provide the sustenance that might give them a chance at survival. And, before long, the troops turned on each other and the ruling class and the results were the same as in Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Phoenix and the rest.

  Those countries that had been involved in conflicts with their neighbors for years, some even centuries, saw this moment of world disorder as an opportunity to do what they had always wanted to do—attack.

  Iran and the rest of the dissident Muslim world fired their rockets and sent their troops against Israel. Israel, which had prepared their air force and army for just such an event after receiving its scientists’ first warning about the potential of the CME, retaliated with all its force. And the Middle East was on fire. Without guidance systems tied to satellites, the rockets armed with warheads, from both sides, indiscriminately slaughtered millions. Their airplanes could only make limited sorties before running out of fuel and their mechanized equipment faced the same fate. Foot soldiers fought pitched battles and, in the end, neither side really won. It was simply a war of attrition that no one could win. The fields were stacked high with the dead. The Earth was scorched. Oil wells spewed fire and smoke hundreds, if not thousands, of feet in the air and spread a black, unbreathable pall over the land. And the religions lived on in whatever pockets of life remained. For whatever reason, no one launched a nuclear attack; maybe feeling that defeat was better than annihilation; too little logic, too late.

  Iran, underestimating the energy component of a CME, and thinking that their underground nuclear facilities would be impervious to the neutron charge, did not shut down their reactors. So, while they furiously fired their rockets and sent their Republican Guard against the Zionists, their nuclear reactors achieved meltdown and exploded, ultimately dealing Iran a death blow from within, from which it could not recover.

  India and Pakistan went at it, and Afghanistan joined in. North Korea crossed the DMZ into South Korea, and they got it on. China, the fastest growing economy in the world, its industries suddenly and irrevocably shut down, was brought to its knees. Her massive population rose up in fear and frustration and she had no thoughts of empire building; just survival of the Party hierarchy. In the African nations, long-held tribal and national differences ignited new crusades of genocide. Mass extermination and hysteria swept the African continent.

  In South America the poor and disenfranchised rose up against their respective governments and far outnumbered the armies they employed. Money meant nothing, but survival did, and the armies switched sides in the face of staggering opposition.

  Moscow did nothing except try to keep a tight rein on its own people. They were too busy dealing with the same problems the US cities were dealing with to think about expansion. They knew, if they survived, the neighboring countries would have to turn to Moscow for help, and expansion could occur that way; that is if they even thought about it. But, in the end, even in Russia, anarchy won out.

  European cities mimicked the crises of their American counterparts. There were no longer national boundaries; they all faced the same problems, which surpassed all thoughts of nationalism.

  England clung to its island, as did Cyprus, Japan, Australia, New Zealand and all the other island nations. They were effectively cut off from the rest of the world and would have to fare for themselves; survive on their own wits.

  Worldwide nuclear disasters, lack of drinking water, disease from non-existent sanitation systems and rotting corpses, and famine were the ties that would bind most countries together. But, because they couldn’t communicate with each other, they didn’t realize anything but their own dire situation.

  To say that the worldwide condition was calamitous would be an understatement of the highest order.

  Interestingly, it was the small groups of people of the outback, the savannahs, the bush, the mountains, the deserts, the jungles, and the tundra that were best situated to survive, for they had no, or little, dependence on electricity or gasoline. They and their ancestors had learned over centuries, even millennia, to be self-sufficient. Where they had sometimes been seen as backward, uneducated, and indigent, they might now be viewed as the new world order; the human stock by which mankind might replenish itself. But then, no one could see or communicate with them.

  Without exception, those countries in which people were dependent on the government for their existence perished. The people had long ago been weaned from the drive for self-sufficiency.

  Obviously, pockets of survivors appeared in every corner of the globe. Some had been lucky, some had been prepared. What remained to be seen were their resilience, their intellect, and their will to survive.

  Those who had survived, regardless of the circumstances, would have to find their own way. “What makes us different from the animals,” someone had once said, “is that we have brains and analytical skills.” Well, now was the time to use them.◘

  Chapter 8

  What Now?

  The Westins and their temporary houseguest, Melanie, stood by the large cathedral windows, drawn by the explosion they heard come from that direction. It was followed almost immediately by a similar explosion up toward Chapman’s Chevron Station and, within seconds, by an explosion that seemed to rock the very foundation of the house, followed by a huge fireball and dense black mushroom cloud they could see from their vantage point.

  The children began crying and were calmed by Carly and Tara. Smaller explosions punctuated the air as more transformers blew, fireworks ignited, and garages that had caught fire blew up, fueled by propane and natural gas leaks from their water heaters.

  Bishop realized all of a sudden that he had neglected to turn off the propane to the house. He ran out the front door, followed closely by Tanner, who he directed to run to the houses up Morningside and turn off their propane service. Bishop ran to the large propane tank below the driveway and quickly closed the valve. He saw Jack doing the same to his tank. He yelled at Jack to make sure the tanks at the Brenner’s and Thomas’ were also off. He knew that the Alberts had completely closed down their system before they left for Europe. Bishop ran back to the front of the house and realized he was quite out of breath. I’m not used to this anaerobic activity, he thought. He could see Tanner at the far end of the street and knew he had things under control up there, so he went back into the house.

  Everyone was still standing by the windows, watching as the condos and apartments between them and 179 began burning. He knew instinctively that this posed a hazard to the homes on Raintrail and Morningside if the fires jumped Raintrail.

  He went back outside and saw both Tanner and Jack coming from opposite directions.

  “We need to do some fire watch along Raintrail,” he said to both of them. “If those homes catch fire we could be in danger ourselves and we can’t let that happen.”

  Just then, Bud pulled up in his pickup and Bishop tried to explain the need for the fire watch, but Bud was too agitated.

  “I can’t help you right now,” he said, “I need to go get Colby and try to get to Cornville to make sure Kristen, Matt and the twins are okay. This whole thing is worse than we imagined and it’s only getting started. I won’t be able to rest until I know my little girl’s all right.” He al
ways referred to his 38-year old daughter as his little girl.

  “I understand, Bud,” responded Bishop, “you do what you have to do and we’ll take care of the fires, if we can. Please send Jenny up to join us if she’s willing. Jack, you might want to have Celeste join us, too.”

  With that Bishop ran back into the house and unlatched the garage door from the inside. Without electricity he had to manually lift it.

  He directed Tanner to grab the stack of five-gallon plastic buckets that were in the garage and the extension ladder. Carly and Melanie came out to see what was going on just as Jack, Celeste, and Jennifer appeared.

  “Carly,” Bishop said, in as calm a voice as he could muster, “why don’t you take care of the kids and let Tara join us?”

  “Why can’t I help,” she asked?

  “Because your knee may not hold up and someone needs to watch the kids. We can use Tara’s strong back.”

  Carly called Tara from the doorway and then went inside.

  ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

  For some providential reason, the main fire did not jump Raintrail Road, sparing Morningside Drive and the Skyline development on the low mesa above the Drive. But, before the apartments on the east side of Raintrail Road lay in ashes, small amounts of hot embers had floated toward the homes across the street, backing up to Morningside. The Morningside Mavericks fire watch crew, using towels dipped in buckets of water taken from their bathtubs, and brooms, managed to quell the small fires before they really got started. They used the ladder to get up on the roofs where they saw burning debris fall and used hand held fire extinguishers from their homes for the worst cases. By nightfall they had managed to keep the houses along Raintrail from catching fire and the condos and apartments had fallen in on themselves; now relegated to burning heaps of debris. An acrid smoke hung over the area like gauze and they all had to put handkerchiefs around their faces to quell the smell and the bite in their mouths and throats.

  From time to time they spotted people running around in the fire torn apartments and condos, either fighting the fire or retrieving what valuables they could. And, there were screams and cries of anguish that could be clearly heard all along Raintrail.

  Finally, Bishop sent the women home. They had been exceptional, refilling the water buckets, keeping the towels and brooms wet, and putting out small spot fires. They were all exhausted, and he knew they needed some rest and sustenance to keep their energy level up. According to Bishop’s reckoning, because his battery operated watch had stopped at 4:05, they must have been on fire watch for at least four and a half or five hours. It got dark at 9:00 this time of year and it was now dark, though there seemed to still be plenty of light.

  Of course, the flames from the burning debris gave off light, but there was another more benevolent light from above. As they all looked up, despite the gauze of smoke, the sky was filled with rippling swirls of green, red, yellow, blue and violet lights; the auroras. Spawned by the CME, the Northern Lights had extended far south from their normal nest over the Northern Territories of North America and now lit the sky with their colorful dance as far as the eye could see in every direction, blotted sporadically by plumes of billowing smoke from still ravaging fires. It was a magnificent sight, but one the spectators couldn’t fully appreciate, given the circumstances.

  When they arrived at Bishop’s, they were surprised to find that Carly and the kids had been joined by Colby’s wife, Maria, with their children, Olivia and Todd. Maria and Carly had anticipated the need for food and had prepared a large picnic-style spread on the dining table. They hadn’t realized how hungry they were until they saw a platter of hamburgers and beans, cooked on the propane barbecue on the patio: chips, pickles, and fresh lettuce, radishes, cucumbers, and tomatoes from the garden. They had also put ice in a cooler and stocked it with beer, pop, and water. Three candles provided a soft glow throughout the great room.

  Bishop asked Maria when they had arrived.

  “Just shortly after you all left to spot any fires down on Raintrail. Bud came by to get Colby to go check on Kristen and Matt and the twins, and he told me to come on over here so he wouldn’t have to worry about me. He told Jason to stay and keep an eye on the place. They took Colby’s truck and headed cross-country toward the old volcano.”

  The volcano she was referring to was called the House Mountain Volcano and was located in the southeast corner of Big Park and the Village. All that was left was the clearly visible caldera that had blown out toward the southeast in the distant past. Volcanic activity in House Mountain had ceased over 300,000 years ago, although volcanic activity continued in the Flagstaff area up until about 1,000 years ago.

  “Well, we’re glad to have you with us, Maria,” Bishop said as he gave her a hug. Hopefully, Bud and Colby will find that everything’s just fine over in Cornville.”

  As they all finally sat down to enjoy their cool drinks and burgers on Bishop’s deck, vehicle lights suddenly appeared on the driveway. They knew instinctively it was Bud and Colby. And, boy, did they have a story to tell!

  ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

  After the early explosions and fires started, and after Bud had talked with Bishop, he drove out to Verde Valley School Road and headed west up to Sun-Up Ranch Road, only about a mile-and-a-half away.

  He found Cole, Colby’s nickname, and his family standing out in the gravel parking area in front of the equipment barn, looking back toward the Village and the large fires and smoke plumes. His truck threw up a dust cloud and gravel as he slid to a stop. Colby’s chocolate Lab, Belle, ran toward the truck, barking in greeting. She, like Jackson, was well-trained to voice and hand commands and had accompanied Bud and Colby on many hunting trips.

  “Come on, Cole, we need to go check on your sister. I don’t like the look of these fires and the damage and chaos they’re causing. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  There are only two ways in and out of the Village, and that was on Highway 179, either west to Sedona or east to I-17. About half way to I-17 was Beaverhead Flats Road, by which you can drive to Cornville, Cottonwood, and Prescott, without having to go through Sedona, or could use it to get to I-17 if, for some reason, the bridge on 179 over Dry Beaver Creek was out. The Beaverhead Flats Road follows the historic old stagecoach road that ran from Prescott to Flagstaff in the late 1800s.

  “Okay, Dad, but you saw how bad the traffic was on 179 when we were coming back from the jobsite just a little over an hour ago. I don’t think we’ll be able to get to Beaverhead Flats Road to get over to Cornville. Let’s take my truck; I know a way cross country that will get to Beaverhead and avoid 179.”

  Colby drove a silver, 2013 Ford F150 truck, with crew cab and four-wheel drive. He was used to pushing it hard in his work and used it to haul the trailer and ATVs when they went camping and hunting. He knew the terrain around the Village better than anyone, except maybe his father.

  “Maria,” said Bud, “why don’t you take the kids down to Bishop’s place. Carly’s there, and you can give her a hand with Tanner’s kids. All the rest of them are out making sure the fires don’t spread over to Raintrail and Morningside.”

  “Good idea,” interjected Colby, “and Jason you can stay here and keep an eye on the place. We’ll pick you up on the way back. And you’d better be sober,” he added with emphasis.

  Bud didn’t quite understand what Colby was referring to, though it was common knowledge in the Thomas family that Jason had been known to use marijuana at times.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Jason responded, “I’ll make sure everything’s fine here, and Mom and the kids can go on down to the Westin’s.”

  Colby had to push the seat back a bit to accommodate Bud’s size and then they headed south, across the semi-desert along the foot of the small mountains that formed part of the House Mountain chain. When they got to the Sedona Golf Resort they used its paved roads until they headed out into the desert again and began climbing what was left of the House Mountain Volcano. They used an
old jeep trail that Colby had ridden many times on his ATV and, after cresting the volcano, took the jeep trail all the way to Beaverhead Road.

  Once he hit the pavement he floored it and, except when he came upon stalled and abandoned cars, he didn’t slow down until he came to the ‘T’ intersection with the old East Cornville Road. Again, there were a number of stalled vehicles left on the road and beside it, exactly where they had been frozen in time by the effects of the CME on their electronics. There were some obvious fender-benders, but nothing appeared serious, but there were no people anywhere to be seen; strange since they were in a very rural, desert area.

  Cornville, like Sedona and the Village, was once an area populated by the indigenous Sinagua Indians until they disappeared around 1300 A.D., is now a small rural town based almost exclusively on agriculture and ranching. Of late, it has also become known as a desirable retirement community with about half of its 3,500 population living in Rancho Santa Fe, a golf-course community located near the Cornville and Cottonwood city borders. Most of the working residents work in Cottonwood, Clarkdale or Sedona. The heart of old Cornville has a post office, established in 1887, a convenience store and gas station called Desert Market, a farm supply store, and a few miscellaneous shops. The central area is known as Casey’s Corner. The best known resident of the area is U.S. Senator and former Presidential candidate, John McCain, who has a ranch in nearby Page Springs and visits for vacations and holidays.

  As they crossed the Cornville Bridge over Oak Creek, the same Oak Creek that runs through Oak Creek Canyon, Sedona and the Village, and approached their turn onto South Loy Road, they spotted six men, obviously intoxicated, jostling each other and drinking from beer and liquor bottles they didn’t even try to conceal in paper bags. This must have been their way of dealing with the CME event, and they had obviously been at it a while.