by Bobby Akart
Horns were blaring. A fistfight erupted over a stolen parking spot. Some cars were simply abandoned for lack of a better parking option, which brought Madison’s attention back to the red KIA Soul.
The words of the rude man in the store came into her mind. You’re a hundred and forty pounds soakin’ wet. No, I weigh one twenty-eight, thank you. She looked at the KIA again.
“Alex, how much do you think that little car weighs?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” she replied as she scrolled through her Twitter feed.
Madison answered her own question. “I think about a ton. My guess is we’re closer to three tons, maybe more.”
“What’s the point, Mom?”
“Well, I believe we’ve waited long enough for whoever this rude person is that blocked us in. It’s time to go.”
Madison put the transmission into low gear and inched forward until the massive front end of the Suburban towered over its smaller counterpart.
“Mom!” Alex yelled. “What are you doing?”
“We don’t have time for this, Alexis.” Madison gave the Suburban gas and began to push the KIA sideways. The tires on the smaller vehicle began to screech as it slid along the hot asphalt pavement. Several would-be shoppers stop to watch the commotion.
Madison was undeterred. She continued to push the KIA until it began to turn at an angle. She stopped, backed up, and pushed toward the rear of the red Soul to create a wider gap. After several back-and-forth maneuvers, the opening became wide enough for the Suburban to fit through and Madison pulled off.
She caught Alex staring at her.
“What?”
“Well, aren’t you gonna leave a note?” asked Alex.
“Nope. Besides, they wouldn’t like what I had to say anyway. We need to go find an ATM.”
It took them ten minutes to get out of the parking lot and another ten to cross the White Bridge Road intersection, which yielded three bank options. The Bank of America on the corner had a line out its front doors and the ATM line was empty. While waiting for the light to change, she saw several people walk up to the machine, express some form of disgust, and then leave or join the line of people trying to enter the bank. A security guard was doing his best to keep order, but in the one-hundred-degree heat, tempers easily flared.
She drove past SunTrust on the left, hoping the smaller, more obscure US Bank location was a better option. She was wrong. The line extended around the building into the parking lot. Madison waited to turn around at Saint Thomas West Hospital where Alex was born.
“Mom, from what I can tell, there hasn’t been any formal announcement or emergency alert about the solar flare. I got a text from my friend Janie, who said school let out early and the golf match was canceled this afternoon.”
“Try the news networks,” said Madison. She wheeled the big SUV in a U-turn and headed back towards the SunTrust ATM. Alex tuned the radio to CNN, where two people were yelling at each other about whether the White House was being irresponsible by not making a statement. One of the talking heads claimed the President was acting calm and prudent. The other complained the President was out of touch by playing with her grandchildren during a time of national crisis. This elicited an angry retort by the other argumentative combatant, who contended no such crisis existed. “The sun is shining, big deal,” he exclaimed.
This exchange was indicative of why Madison was disgusted with politics. Everything was politicized. A tragic school or restaurant shooting quickly became a raging debate about gun control. The poor grieving families didn’t even have a chance to learn if their loved one was dead or alive before the two sides draped themselves in the flag. While one side decreed that allowing illegal aliens to enter the country uninhibited was compassionate and the right thing to do, the other side was deemed to be racist because they disagreed. It was a never-ending battle of left versus right. Common sense took a backseat to it all.
Madison found a parking space at the bank despite the long ATM line. She instructed Alex to keep monitoring the news, and Madison also asked her to try to reach her dad again. She didn’t want to alarm Alex, but Madison was genuinely concerned about her inability to reach Colton by phone. She had no idea if he was still at the Cowboys’ complex or whether he was on a flight home. She hoped he’d caught a plane, which would explain his lack of contact with her.
While in line, she engaged in idle chat with some of the other bank customers. Incredibly, several people in line were unaware of the impending solar storm. Madison casually asked if anyone had heard about it, which piqued the interest of those within earshot. They immediately took to their smartphones to look for information.
Within a minute, everyone in line, starved for information, attempted to call friends and family. Conversations turned into panicked discussions about what it meant. One man suspected the worst-case doomsday scenario, as he put it. He summed it up as no power, no utilities, and no government. Think Mad Max, he surmised.
Those in line began to focus their attention on the person using the ATM. Madison could feel them pressing from the rear as the line grew longer. The bank’s parking lot was full, as were the drive-thru tellers. The word was spreading, and it had been less than an hour since the cell phone alert was issued.
Madison wished that she had more than one debit card. The most she could withdraw in a given day was six hundred dollars. After her experience at Kroger, she decided that having some cash on hand was a good idea. She had checked her balance this morning, which was part of her daily routine.
When it was her turn, Madison nervously entered her PIN number incorrectly twice. The pressure of the day and the people behind her caused her to lose focus. On the third try, she succeeded. As the transaction was being completed, she opted for a written receipt, hoping it might provide her a clue as to whether Colton had made a similar withdrawal.
She stepped to the side of the ATM and read the printed balance. She quickly did the math in her head. Only her earlier purchases and the cash withdrawal appeared to have been taken out of their account. Colton had not used the card today. As was her habit, she counted the money dispensed by the ATM machine. Madison normally would do that before leaving the ATM, but the long line forced her out of her routine.
It also caused her to lose awareness of her surroundings. Suddenly, a man rushed her and tackled her to the ground. He was grabbing for the money she held tightly in her fist.
“Give me the money,” he growled in Madison’s ear, while pinning her down with his knee. Madison could feel blood dripping down her neck where her chin had struck a rock. He was grabbing at her wrist. When he grabbed her hand and bent it backward, she lost her grip and let go of the money. The twenty-dollar bills blew into the grass, bouncing aimlessly until they wedged against a row of liriope plants.
She tried to yell for help, but couldn’t vocalize the words. The man crawled over her, his knees driving the air out of her lungs. As he scrambled for the money, which was now blowing along the grass toward the hedges, he kicked her in the face. Madison was stunned. Why isn’t somebody helping me?
That was when she saw the bright reflection of steel, followed by a primal, guttural scream. Alex came at the man with a vengeance—and a sand wedge. Madison could hear the cracking of ribs as Alex drove the shiny, polished steel blade into the man’s side with all of her might.
The man roared in pain but continued to grab for the money. Alex didn’t hesitate. She raised the club again and drove it down onto his left forearm, resulting in an audible CRACK! The mugger had rolled onto his back, abandoning the quest for Madison’s money and choosing to beg for mercy. He held his left arm up with his right, gesturing for Alex to stop.
She didn’t. Alex swung again, crushing the man’s left hand and severing one of his fingers, which barely hung on by its skin. The man was kicking the ground, trying to push himself into the bushes for protection. Alex went after him again. This time, she drove the club into the ground, barely missing his feet. The golf c
lub shaft snapped, leaving her to hold the grip while the sand wedge blade was embedded in the sod. The man used this as his opportunity to escape.
Alex turned to her mother. “Mom, are you okay?” Alex was frantically trying to dial 9-1-1, to no avail. She turned her attention back to her mom.
Madison wiped the blood off her neck and then discovered her nose was bleeding as well. She got onto her knees and nodded. As she came back to her senses, she realized two things. First, their money was blowing around on the grass, prompting her to overcome the pain and crawl on all fours to retrieve it.
The second thing she realized was nobody got out of the ATM line to help her.
Chapter 27
9 Hours
2:24 p.m., September 8
Harding Place
Belle Meade, Tennessee
Alex did her best to concentrate on the road as she drove her mother home. Even though Saint Thomas Hospital was right around the corner, her mom insisted that she was all right. She just wanted to take a shower or, better yet, a nice bath.
The traffic was at a standstill until Alex veered off Highway 100 and down Belle Meade Boulevard. The stately mansions stood high on the hill overlooking one of the most famous streets in Nashville. Unlike the chaos surrounding the last hour, Belle Meade looked like any other day. Lawn crews cut grass. A jogger, despite the sweltering heat, made his way along the tree-lined divided street. The mailman was dutifully stuffing mailboxes.
Madison threw the bloodied golf towel on the floor at her feet. She spoke for the first time since the attack. “Alex, I am so proud of you. You may have saved my life.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, Mom. I wish we had gone to the hospital. He kicked you in the head. Do you remember that?”
“Trust me, I’m feeling it,” replied Madison.
“What if you have a concussion?” asked Alex.
“I don’t, or at least I’m pretty sure I don’t have one. My nose isn’t broken either.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m pretty sure Daddy would be upset if your nose was crooked.” Alex attempted to lighten the mood. She glanced over at Belle Meade Country Club as she turned onto Harding Place. There were golfers coming and going like any other Thursday afternoon.
“No doubt,” said Madison. “Honey, again, thank you.”
“I didn’t save your life, Mom. But as Granddaddy would say, I did save you from a good old-fashioned butt whoopin’.” The women laughed as they passed Mrs. Abercrombie, who was retrieving her mail. Somehow the appearance of the longtime resident getting her mail struck the Ryman women as odd under the circumstances. They didn’t say another word until Alex turned on her left turn signal and slowly guided the large SUV through the very narrow stone columns adorned with iron security gates.
“Home sweet home,” muttered Madison.
“Yeah, no kidding,” added Alex. “I’ve got this, Mom. Why don’t you check yourself out and get changed. But what should I do with all of this stuff. We don’t have room in our pantry for it.”
Alex hopped out and opened the rear hatch. She handed her mom the keys to unlock the house. Alex studied Madison’s face one last time to make sure she didn’t appear confused or dizzy. Although the two didn’t talk much on the way home, her mom appeared alert and coherent. She wasn’t nauseous and didn’t seem sensitive to the bright, midday sun.
Last summer, one of her guy friends got hit in the temple with a golf club while horsing around, resulting in a concussion. Alex remembered what the paramedics were asking him before they took him to the hospital. She planned on keeping a close eye on her mom for the next couple of hours.
“Honey, why don’t you organize everything on the dining room table,” replied Madison. “I’d kinda like to take inventory to see what we have. Okay?”
“Sure thing,” replied Alex, and then she added, “Mom, I love you.”
“I love you too, Alex. Listen, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. But I have to tell you something. I haven’t heard from your father in hours. I want to assume he’s on a plane and will be home soon. He may be driving. But, honestly, I can’t say for sure. I just thought you should know.”
“He’ll be fine, Mom. We’ll all be fine.”
Chapter 28
9 Hours
2:24 p.m., September 8
Interstate 30
East of Dallas, Texas
Amazingly, the traffic through downtown Dallas was relatively light. Based upon the frenzied state of affairs at DFW, Colton imagined bumper-to-bumper, rush-hour-level traffic. While he was thrilled to be on the road, a six-hundred-and-fifty-mile trek across the southeast was going to be a challenge.
Finding Divine Car Rental open with available vehicles was a welcome sight, at first. Then he discovered his car rental options were limited and pricey. He had to choose between a Chevrolet Corvette and a Mercedes-Benz R350 crossover-style SUV. He opted for speed because he didn’t plan on any additional passengers and his luggage was back at the hotel. There simply wasn’t time to stop by the hotel and gather his belongings.
The other factor that would normally affect his decision making was the price—seven hundred dollars per day. He assured the clerk that his use of the Vette was strictly local, and he only needed it for a day. In Colton’s mind, either it wouldn’t matter in a day, or he would be facing one heckuva AMEX bill next month. He did chuckle to himself when he declined the loss damage waiver. If Madison and Alex were right, the Vette would be worthless by morning, with or without insurance.
He worked his way into the HOV lane without fear or compunction. He would be breaking a lot of laws in the next eight hours as he sped home to his girls. He’d be safe, of course, but he would not be a model citizen. He was racing against time, and time had a head start.
Colton finally cleared the bulk of the city’s traffic after he crossed the Interstate 635 loop. He was doing eighty miles an hour by the time he crossed Lake Ray Hubbard, and Colton barely noticed the town of Rockwall on his left as he sped toward the piney woods and the rolling hills of East Texas.
He had never driven a Corvette before and vowed to buy one if Madison would let him. It was simply the perfect driving machine. The interior resembled the cockpit of a flight simulator he once toured at the FAA when he was a child. Every square inch had a purpose and was sculpted in luxury. Today, however, the GPS was wholly inadequate thanks to the incoming solar particles disrupting satellite communications.
Without a map, Colton would have to rely on memory at first until he could stop somewhere and pick up a few things. The most important item on his list was a cell phone charger. His, unfortunately, was back in the hotel room, leaving his cell phone dead.
He fiddled with the Apple CarPlay onboard touchscreen. There was a phone function, but he wasn’t able to connect to a cell tower. Colton imagined that wireless providers were overwhelmed under the circumstances. The onslaught of calls by millions of Americans as they reached out to loved ones or to gather information was probably crushing the system.
Colton managed to pull up a local news station, which was airing The Sean Hannity Show. Hannity was providing an update on the solar flare.
“So far we have nothing from the White House on what might be a life-changing event for the American people. We have discussed the devastating impact of an EMP on our nation’s critical infrastructure for years, and neither this administration nor the one before it took any action. While they waste money on their pet social programs, our nation has been put at risk of the very thing we are facing today.”
Colton pushed the car up to over ninety miles an hour as traffic thinned to the occasional eighteen-wheeler. The westbound lane towards Dallas was much busier. He turned his attention back to the radio.
“I am fortunate to have with us today former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich. Mr. Speaker, thank you very much for joining us today. First, let me say that I hope you are safe and ready for what might be a devastating event in the history of this nation.”
“Well, thank you, Sean, and I can assure you that Callista and I have been prepared for something like this for some time. Sean, I have stated many times that the detonation of a high-altitude nuclear-delivered electromagnetic pulse could damage our power grid, rendering it inoperable for years. Make no mistake, this solar storm has the same potential.”
“Mr. Speaker, I have been waiting all day for this administration to address the American people about this solar event, and instead we get a photo op of Madame President playing soccer with the grandkids. Is she ever going to take the national security of this great nation seriously?”
Colton slowed momentarily as a sheriff’s patrol car headed westbound. The deputy never gave Colton a look. He wondered if police radar was adversely affected by the solar radiation.
Gingrich continued. “Sean, not only could this deal a deathblow to our society, it could be the kind of catastrophe that ends civilization as we know it, and that’s not an exaggeration.”
“I agree, Mr. Speaker, and I know that is why you have focused on these threats dating back to your time in office.”
“Sean, the reason I began focusing on this is there are very few events you can’t recover from. You can recover from 9/11 or Pearl Harbor. This is really different.” Gingrich paused and the radio became silent for a few seconds. “This solar storm can create such a collapse of our fundamental productive capacity that you could literally see civilization crash and tear itself apart—from within.”