Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story

by Holden, J. J.

  Captain Arnerich looked up, mouth open to bark at the intrusion, but he must have seen the same thing David did because instead, he asked, “What’s going on, now?”

  “Sir. A jetliner on approach to the airport came down hard on the freeway a half a mile outside Aurora. County sent people to gather Aurora PD and Denver PD, whoever we could spare. But there’s more. The freeway headed east was pretty full, and now there’s damn near a riot going on from all the people cut off, and hundreds injured from the plane coming down on top of them.”

  David grimaced. What a nightmare that must have been. How could a plane fall out of the sky? What of the other hundreds of planes flying around—or was it thousands? The fear in the pit of his stomach came back full-force.

  Arnerich slammed his palms on the podium. “Dammit, this is not what we needed. We have our own hands full. You all saw what it was like out there on your way in. We need everyone here. But God help me, we can’t sit by and just do nothing...”

  He looked up, his gaze sweeping the room, and David thought Arnerich looked suddenly rather weaker than he had a minute ago. His voice shook as he said, “That’s it. We have to help. I can only spare ten of you, though. Any volunteers?”

  David raised his hand and pushed through the crowd. “I’ll go, sir.”

  Orien stepped up beside David. “I’ll go, too.”

  In the end, people were still volunteering when they got to ten, and the captain cut them off. “No more. You ten, grab riot gear and bring it with you. No heroes, you got me? Everyone goes home alive, tonight. What are you standing around for? Get a move on.”

  Ten officers filed out of the briefing room, with David and Orien the last to get out as they’d been near the front of the room.

  Orien said quietly, “Damn you for being married to your job. Maybe if you got laid sometimes, you wouldn’t be so eager to be a hero.”

  David forced a chuckle. “Maybe. So, what’s your excuse?”

  Then, they reached the gear room, where a sergeant handed riot kits to each officer in turn. Part of the gear included an extra rifle and magazines, and David’s stomach flip-flopped. He hoped never to have to use it, but he ought to be glad to have it.

  Once they’d shoved their gear into his Bronco, it left only room for the two of them.

  Buckling up, Orien said, “Hope you like sleeping in the car. We might be gone a while.”

  David paused. “Hang on; I’ll be right back.” He ignored Orien’s following questions and ran back inside and went to his locker. Inside lay his second gear bag, but this one didn’t have cop gear in it.

  When he came back to the Bronco, Orien rolled his eyes dramatically. “Really? Your bug-out bag? It won’t be that bad. I think you’re just scared, you old goat.”

  David threw the bag in back with the rest, flashing the first honest grin he’d had all morning. “I taught you everything you know, kid—”

  “—but not everything you know?”

  “Shut up. Stupid kids these days…” David hopped in and started the Bronco, wasting no time before pulling out of the parking lot.

  As they drove, they passed the time bantering back and forth, but in the back of his mind, David thought it felt too…forced, the kinds of things cops said to each other to avoid looking scared, and to bolster each other up.

  Well, he did need the reassurance, so he kept it up. Maybe Orien needed that. Maybe David did, too.

  Orien snapped David back to reality when he said, “Forget a bug-out bag; what you really need is a good E-D-C bag. Everyday Carry. It’s loads lighter, and I got all five of the Survival C’s in it.”

  David shook his head, giving Orien a sidelong look. “Let me guess. Condoms, coffee, cola, Corazon, and Cuervo?”

  Orien laughed back, but to David’s ears, it sounded forced and nervous. Well, he had a right to be nervous. David was, too. His gut told him this was an excellent time to be cautious.

  As they left Denver, passing intermittent chaos in the city left them both somber and quiet. David had been a cop for far too long to believe that people were basically decent, that they’d pull together and come through together. FEMA had better get to Denver soon, or the intermittent chaos looked like it’d become all too normal.

  6

  First, the kids’ bus had been late. Then, the drive in Christine’s ten-year-old car to work was terrifying, traveling over roads full of cars that were stopped for no reason. Smoke from fires, several of which were visible, thickened the air. Police and ambulance sirens sounded from every direction.

  It didn’t take long for her to decide that trying to send the kids to school today had been a terrible mistake. Her work would just have to deal with Mary and her being absent for a third day, because she was going to go yank her kids out again. She’d do it in spite of the principal’s warning, when she’d pulled them out last time, that they couldn’t miss any more school.

  The twenty-minute drive to the school shouldn’t have taken that long. The power everywhere flickered, stoplight cycles were all messed up, the cars that were moving had to navigate a maze of stopped vehicles, and on top of all that, too many drivers had just said to hell with the lights and tried to make it through without stopping, slowing everyone down.

  Christine gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and clenched her jaw much of the drive, and only relaxed when the school came into view. Once the light turned green, she waited one second to be sure no one was barreling through, then pulled into the intersection.

  Mary screamed, “Stop!”

  Christine slammed the brakes by reflex, then looked over, just in time to see a trailered-up big rig head through the red light without even slowing.

  The truck missed her front bumper by only a couple feet, but the car in the next lane over hadn’t been so lucky as the truck smashed into its right rear.

  The truck kept going; the car spun, flipped, and smashed into a pickup truck going the other way that had stopped to avoid the big rig.

  Mary’s voice trembled as she shouted for Christine to keep going.

  Confused and stunned, Christine stepped on the gas and cleared the intersection going fast, and by the time her thoughts cleared up enough to realize she should have stopped to help those people, it was too late.

  Two blocks later—again with difficulty at the lights, but without any further horrible crashes going on around her—she pulled into the middle school both her kids attended. That was a small blessing, at least, having both kids in one school, even if it was only because Hunter had been held back in second grade, when he’d missed too much school after breaking his leg climbing trees.

  That was the year he’d really started reading, lacking any other entertainment—

  Mary nudged her. “Are you going to get out, and can I come with you? I don’t want to stay in the car alone.”

  Christine blinked a couple times, clearing her wandering thoughts to focus on the task at hand. “Yes, I don’t want to walk in alone,” she lied. “I’d appreciate it if you did come with me.”

  Together, they entered the school, Christine striding in and Mary scrambling to keep up. When they got to the office, it was full of parents with the same idea.

  Christine didn’t bother checking in at the desk. Waiting in line while things went nuts outside wasn’t going to get her kids home and safe any faster. She cut through the crowd and went right through the swinging, thigh-high door through the counter and made for the principal’s office.

  She’d been there so many times that she knew the way by heart. He’d once called her a “helicopter parent,” but that was fine with Christine—so long as her kids were safe and treated fairly, they could hate her all they liked.

  She ignored one of the desk workers who tried to get her to stop, and opened the principal’s door without knocking. “Principal Magnus, good to see you, and can you kindly have my kids sent out right now? I’m taking them home.”

  The principal, on his desk phone, stopped and stared at h
er for a moment. Then, he hung up without so much as a goodbye, took a deep breath, and put on the most obviously forced smile. “Mrs. Simmons. How nice to see you again.”

  “Yes, of course. My kids, please.”

  “Mrs. Simmons, you know that—”

  “Not acceptable. I need them now. My job is to keep my loved ones safe, and I will do that even if it’s you I’m keeping them safe from.”

  “That’s uncalled for. You and I have had an…interesting relationship, these past three years since Hunter came here. Wonderful kid, by the way.” His nose rose slightly as he said it, eyes narrowing just a little, likely suggesting he didn’t know how such a good kid came from her.

  Christine ignored that, however. Arguing would only slow him down. “Thanks. And?”

  “And, he’ll stay that way if he isn’t yanked out of class every other day by an overly concerned parent.”

  Mary, hovering near the door, gasped.

  Christine smiled, as sweetly as she could manage when she wanted to rip out his eyeballs, and replied, “Get my children, please, because you don’t have a choice, and because if you don’t, I’ll dis-enroll them and put them in another school. Hunter’s in your top five, academically, and I’m sure losing him would drop your overall scoring. I was sure surprised to learn that your discretional funding is largely based on the school’s overall scores, and any other school would be delighted to receive more of it by enrolling him.”

  The principal pursed his lips, considering her in silence for all of three seconds before giving her a single, faint nod. He picked up the phone on his desk, waited a moment, then said, “Yes, everything is fine. Please bring Hunter and Darcy Simmons to the office immediately… Yes, right now… Thanks.”

  Christine strode out the door without looking back, feeling rather like a lioness. Plus, it’d be fun to spend the day with the kids—playing hooky from work and school would give them some unscheduled time together, a nice change of pace.

  Unfortunately, the principal would probably hate her after that, which was bothersome, but as she’d said to him, her first duty was to her family.

  Maybe a batch of brownies would make up for it? After order got restored and it was safe to send the kids back, of course.

  Christine pulled into her driveway, pleased at the record-breaking low time it took thanks to the almost-empty streets.

  From the back seat, Hunter said, “You know what you’ve done? I was getting an ‘A’ for sure on that English paper.”

  Christine ignored him, since it was probably the tenth time he’d whined about that damn English paper since they left the school. “All ashore who’s going ashore,” she said cheerily. “After I call out from work, we can play some board games.”

  “You mean bored games,” Darcy said as she opened her door. “Whatever, Mom.”

  Christine ignored that, too. Darcy liked to complain—it seemed to be her biggest hobby—and yet she always managed to find time in her busy schedule to play games with the family on monthly Family Game Night.

  Mary was the last inside the house, and she closed and locked the front door behind her. “When you call out, can you let them know I’m out, too? I don’t know why, but I hate the thought of doing it myself.”

  “Of course.” Christine pulled out her phone and hit the office on speed-dial. She knew why Mary hated it, though—her friend was just bad at confrontation in general, and prone to caving in to people’s demands.

  The phone didn’t ring. Christine pulled it away from her ear to glance at it, but it was still on. She tried again. Still nothing. “What the heck?”

  Mary cocked her head. “What’s wrong?”

  “My cell phone isn’t calling out. Can I borrow yours?”

  Mary handed it over.

  But when Christine dialed the number, the same thing happened. She noticed the network-connection icon was crossed out and gray. One look at her own phone told her it had the same problem. “Huh, weird. They’re both not connecting to the network.”

  Mary let out a noise that sounded like a mouse squeak, and at Christine’s curious look, she said in a tiny voice, “The solar flare. It must have knocked out all the cell service.”

  Christine opened her apps panel. “No problem. I got a V-O-I-P backup.”

  Darcy stepped up beside Christine and rose onto her tippy-toes to try to see over her shoulder. “What’s Veoheyepee?”

  “Voice over internet. Works just like a phone, but avoids the cell phone network…”

  It failed to dial out. Christine looked at the icons at the top of her phone’s home screen—the Wi-Fi connection icon was grayed out, too. “Well, our internet is down, too. At least the Wi-Fi.”

  Hunter laughed and said, “No texting? No Tok-Tic? Darcy is going to go insane in five…four…”

  “Shut up, jerkface.” Darcy stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s not even what it’s called, stupid.”

  Christine looked up long enough to glare at them both, which silenced them instantly. Satisfied, she looked at the landline phone on the wall, and her satisfaction vanished. She’d have to use that to call out from work.

  Reaching for it, she said, “Don’t you two kids dare tell your nana about this, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” She wore a smile, but inside, she wasn’t really kidding at all.

  When she picked up the handset, though, she heard no dial tone. No out-of-service beeping, either—just dead silence. “Oh, great. How the heck could it take down a real phone? I thought these things were impervious to emergencies.”

  Hunter walked over, shaking his head. “Once, but not anymore. In ancient times when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, around the mid-’90s, they began to modernize the phone service. The lines are still cool, but the automated switchboards that connect the signals all got replaced with computers, and not the home-PC kind. It takes high-tech hardware and software to handle a hundred-thousand calls at a time and keep them in sync.”

  Mary said, “Oh, I loved that band.”

  Christine nodded. “Yeah, me too. So, for right now, the mighty high-tech America has been reduced to using smoke signals to talk because the sun burped. Super.”

  Mary’s lips flatlined. “How can we find out what’s going on? No internet, no cell phone, not even that useless emergency landline.”

  For the moment, Christine was forced to agree. They were cut off. But then she remembered some of Bryson’s things in the basement. “Darcy, you know where all the camping gear is packed up, right? That was you and your dad’s thing.”

  “Jeez, Mom. He’s not dead, but you’re talking like he is.”

  More like wishing than talking, in Christine’s opinion. “He’s fine, I’m sure. Don’t worry about your dad. But that’s not the point. Go down to the basement and bring up his camping radio, please.”

  Darcy’s eyes lit up with a flash of hope that warmed Christine’s heart to see, then dashed through the door to the basement stairs.

  No one said much until, five minutes later, she came back up carrying a small metal box with dials and switches on it in one hand, and a plug-in battery charger in the other.

  Christine took the radio, set it on the counter, then took the charger and removed all four batteries from it to put them into the radio.

  It immediately sprang to life, though whatever frequency to which it was set delivered only static.

  Without asking permission, Darcy reached over to a small metal switch on the radio. It had four positions, one of which was labeled “FM.” Darcy flipped it to another position, and the small LED display switched immediately from “89.4 FM” to “EBS.”

  The static vanished. The radio beeped several times, and then a bored-sounding man’s voice told them they were listening to an emergency broadcast system, though Christine couldn’t hear the name of it. She turned the volume up, and everyone else edged closer to listen, too.

  “…due to the recent coronal mass ejection, the edge of which reached Earth. The resulting electromagnetic dist
urbance has caused global damage to some computers, many newer automobiles, and other advanced electronic devices.

  However, the global satellite network, stationed beyond Earth’s protective atmosphere, has been rendered inoperable. It is unknown how long the communications and G-P-S network and other satellite-reliant functions will remain offline.

  Emergency Services in many areas have also been affected, and response times may be delayed or unavailable in many areas. Citizens are advised to remain in their homes if possible, leaving only in case of emergency, until communications and transit systems are restored. There is no estimated time available for this to happen.

  Water can be stored safely in bathtubs, sinks, trash cans with fresh unused liners…”

  The broadcast continued, delivering tips on safe water collection and storage, food preparation for those with no power, and more. After about five minutes, the message began to repeat.

  Christine turned the radio off, then closed her eyes tightly. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she’d wake up and find it was all just a ridiculous dream.

  “Mom, are we all going to die?” Darcy asked.

  Christine was yanked violently out of her thoughts. Her poor baby… She was scared. Well, Christine was too, as they all probably were. There were a few things working in their favor, though. “No, we are definitely not going to die. This isn’t the end of the world, sweetie. Everything will be fine in a few days, I’m certain. You’ll just have to go without text messages until then.”

  Darcy smiled, though her pupils remained dilated, and her face was a shade paler than it had been. “That is the end of the world,” she said through her smile.

  Hunter put his arm around her shoulder and snugged her into his side. “Sure is. But I’ll keep you safe from the zombies, okay?”

  “Stupid.”

  “You’re stupid.”

  Mary looked over from the bantering siblings to Christine. “So. Um. I live alone, you know, and it’s not a great neighborhood. I was just wondering…”