Hideaway (Book 0): An EMP Thriller

by Hayden, Roger

  “Excuse me,” James said, waving at the man.

  “Hold on a second, Dave,” the man said, lowering his phone.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that while pumping gas,” James said out of concern for his own safety.

  The man stood frozen for a moment. “Huh?”

  “Your phone. It’s dangerous,” James said. “For you and me.” He didn’t like to get into other people’s business, but he had to draw the line somewhere.

  “Hold on, Dave,” he said into the phone, lowering his phone with a step toward James. “What are you saying?”

  James pointed to the sign above them. “Static electricity from your phone. Get it?”

  The man thought for a moment and then waved him off. “Ah, that’s a bunch of nonsense.” He then resumed pumping with his phone against his ear.

  James shook his head and fueled up. Once finished, he quickly placed the nozzle back into the pump. Before he could return to his Jeep, a sudden and bright flash exploded in front of him, clouding his vision and rocking his body. He flew back against his jeep, dazed and shaken. His ears rang from the blast, and he heard people call out from all around him, just as shocked as he was.

  For a moment, he thought that his fears had been right and that the man with the phone had managed to blow up the gas pump. As his vision returned, he could tell that the explosion had occurred from above. The sky had turned pinkish-blue in an instant. James regained his balance, a dozen different possibilities racing through his mind. It could have been a transformer explosion, a plane crash, a rocket attack, or any of a dozen other freak occurrences. He had no idea.

  He staggered toward to his Jeep and saw people getting up from the pavement and staring at the sky. On closer inspection, James could see that the lights were dim inside the gas station. It looked like the power was out. There were some people sitting in their cars, equally dazed.

  The cell phone man sat on the other side of the pump, struggling to his feet with sunglasses crooked. James walked over and extended his hand, helping him up with one tug. The man thanked him and then brushed the dirt off his fancy dress slacks, cursing as he did it.

  “The hell was that?” he asked, shaken and disoriented.

  “I warned you,” James said jokingly. The truth was, he didn’t know.

  The man crouched down to retrieve his phone in a near panic. He then held the screen out, curiously examining it. “Phone’s dead. Just great.” He pressed buttons on all sides to no avail. “Ah, come on. What the hell?”

  James glanced past the man and saw a strange and bewildering sight just ahead of them. All four lanes of road in both directions were filled with cars no longer in motion. Some of them had managed to roll to the side of the road, others were stopped completely in the lane. Not a single vehicle was moving. He didn’t know what was going on, but it gave him a bad feeling.

  “And now the pump’s not working!” the man shouted.

  James turned and saw nothing but a blank screen where there had been numbers before. He moved quickly around and saw the same thing on his pump. The lights in the gas station were still out as people continued to file outside, looking around as though they were in a dream state. He turned back around and watched as the man returned to his shiny black Lexus, shouting at the top of his lungs, “What the hell is this shit?”

  He was turning his ignition key, but nothing was happening. James slowly lowered into his seat and gripped the wheel with one hand while touching the ignition switch with the other. The elements began to add up in his mind: white aerial flash, explosion, cell phone, gas pump, and stopped traffic. It all meant something. With faint optimism, he reached for his cell phone on the center console and examined its blank screen. He hadn’t turned it off, but there it was, completely dead.

  “Oh no…” he began as the man next to him shouted some more. He pressed and held the side power button to no avail. Next came the most important test of all. He took a deep breath and turned the ignition key and heard only a dead, mechanical clicking sound.

  And nothing more. James tried the engine again and again in disbelief. Whatever was happening couldn’t be so. There was a logical explanation for it all.

  Transformer blew and shorted everything out, he thought. Must have created an electromagnetic pulse in the process. That’s why the phones don’t work. Cars too.

  For a moment, everything seemed to make sense. Frustrated shouts echoed all around. James wasn’t the only driver at the wheel who couldn’t start his car. He stepped outside and left the pavilion shielding the pumps, staring up into the sky. Aside from the chatter of gas patrons, everything was eerily quiet. At least he wouldn’t be in the middle of the road when everything started up again.

  There were no sounds of construction work; no jackhammers pounding or trucks beeping, there were no sounds of vehicles whatsoever, on or off the road. A freak accident had occurred, and James was hopeful that it didn’t extend beyond the Rosalind Street where he was. But something told him that the outage was far more widespread.

  The Lexus man was soon out of his car and approached James, shaking his head with his tie blowing in the wind. “Car won’t start, fucking phone won’t work. What the hell is going on?”

  “That flash did something,” James said, staring at the blue cloud-filled sky above. “I thought it might be a transmitter blowout or something, but now I’m not so sure.”

  The man paced around in the sunlight, staring down at his cell phone in denial. “Absolute bullshit,” he muttered.

  But the problem spread beyond just the gas station to a row of shops next door where the lights were out, and people were standing outside. The still traffic that accompanied the road beyond the gas station was most telling of all.

  Hoods had been raised and people were looking into their engines, seemingly confused and perturbed by the inexplicable occurrence. Nobody seemed to know what they were looking for, or at. James focused on the more outward sense of the problem.

  The power was out. Cell phones weren’t working, nor were any of the vehicles in sight, including James’s jeep. The nightmare scenario he had read about in so many fiction books—an EMP attack—seemed to be a reality. James recalled the various types of weaponized EMPs which could range from a nuclear deployment to a high-altitude warhead to a straight-forward disruption. He was sure that he wasn’t the only one who had made the connection.

  He returned to his Jeep but wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to get it started. He locked both doors and tried to think of a plan. He wasn’t going to panic. He tried to keep his mind clear and nerves calm. All was not lost… yet. He headed inside the Drive N’ Save where people were stood by the entrance, looking around in wonder. Not a car in the parking lot was running. Many of them already had their hoods up.

  James walked inside the gas station, feeling an immediate uneasiness in the air. None of the lights were on. The coolers in the back weren’t running. A long line went from the check-out counter to the back. Two female cashiers apologized to perplexed customers for the “technical difficulties” their system was experiencing. Groans carried around the entire store.

  James glanced around the aisles as the door swung open and people filed in and out behind him. For now, the shelves were fully stocked. Everything was in order. James, however, wondered how long that would last. Questions flew from the mouths of agitated customers, demanding to know what was going on. None of their cell phones worked. The power was out, their credit and debit cards useless. The vehicles outside wasn’t working. It was like something out of a disaster movie. Nervous laughter rippled among the small groups chatting among themselves, offering their own theories of what had happened. James heard some reference to an EMP as well, which meant he couldn’t have been too far off.

  He stood near the newspaper rack and observed as some men in construction reflector vests returned their drinks and snacks in heavy frustration. James then scanned the ceiling and spotted the different security cameras above,
none of them working. James walked down the corner aisle and opened the glass cooler door, feeling lingering coolness no longer running. A lanky man in the front asked anyone who would listen for cash.

  “Come on!” he called out. He wore a dirty sweatshirt along with torn jeans. But the grumbling of frustrated customers around the store nearly drowned him out. “Just a few bucks,” he continued to no response.

  A bulky truck driver in a hat and short-sleeved flannel shirt stepped forward, angered. “Hey. Take your panhandling outside, and keep the line moving.” He cradled a breakfast burrito and a large soda, clearly wanting to get back on the road. But how? The lanky man stared him down but suddenly stormed outside in a fit, to nearly everyone’s relief.

  “Fucking lowlife,” the trucker said, shaking his head.

  Standing near the front, James watched as the trucker paid cash for his items and then left in a huff.

  “Cash…” James thought as things went quiet.

  He quickly pulled out his wallet, opening it. Inside, he had two twenty-dollar bills. There was more at home. He and Marla had about five thousand dollars cash between them in a safe. Something told him that they’d need it. Half the line had already cleared out. Cash was the only acceptable currency, and it was now his turn.

  James moved to the counter and asked if the phone lines were working. The cashier turned to him, holding up her chubby arms in a helpless gesture and shaking her bouffant hairstyle, which seemed to have a life of its own. “Nothing’s working, hon. Not even the Lotto machine.”

  James watched outside as the trucker approach his rig parked near the pumps. He got inside, adjusted himself, and seemed to turn the ignition, but nothing happened. James then turned to the cashier and gave her a word of advice in a soft tone. “You should maybe think about closing as a precaution.”

  She nodded as another customer approached with a cup of coffee and small box of donuts. “You’re paying cash, right?” she asked him. He eagerly handed her a five as she glanced at James with a shrug. “We can’t do a thing until management says so.”

  “I’d advise it,” James said, walking away.

  More people were outside than ever. Many of them were coming from the road where their vehicles had broken down. The store was getting crowded fast despite the blackout. James suddenly thought of Marla. He had no idea if she was okay, and he couldn’t call her to find out. He stared outside and saw people remove their cell phone batteries and place them back in; anything that would get them working.

  “What’s going on, anyway?” one particularly sweaty and exhausted man asked the cashiers. James turned to listen to the man.

  “I’m not sure, sir. Power went out,” the cashier said.

  The man then pointed to the cigarettes behind her and asked for a pack. She pulled from the display and set it on the counter. He shifted in place when she told him the price.

  “Well, look,” he began. “I’m short about two bucks, but I’ll pay you later. I promise.”’

  The line soon became unruly as the cashier hesitated.

  “You’re holding up the line!” another man called out.

  James examined their impatient, frustrated faces and left the store, thinking of how he could get to Marla. Once outside, he returned to the pump and saw that some people had already abandoned their cars on the road and were walking on ahead. He peered around the pump and saw that the cell phone man was looking inside his engine like the many drivers around them.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered while swatting his hair to the side.

  “It’s the electronic circuits,” James said, startling the man. “They’re probably fried.”

  The man arched upward with his hands on his hips, staring at James through his glasses. “And you know this because?”

  “Just a hunch. I used to be a mechanic,” James said. He regretted his words as the man’s face lit up.

  “Oh yeah? Can you look at my car then?”

  “This is not something that can be fixed,” James said. He turned away as the man leaned back over his engine, touching wires and hoses to no avail. James went to his Jeep, hoping that by some miracle it would start. But he knew better. He opened the door, leaned inside, and gave the ignition a turn one last time. There was a faint clicking sound but nothing else.

  He soon reached a decision, difficult as it was. Shifting the Jeep into Neutral, he stepped out of the door and heaved the Jeep forward, gradually rolling it to a curve away from the pump and beside a dumpster fence. The tires crunched against pavement as he moved it out of view, partially hidden. Then he extended his leg inside and braked to a halt.

  As he next reached inside to grab his bag from the back seat, he almost felt like a soldier again, on the move and executing a plan, though unclear. He recalled the old Humvees he worked on in the army. They didn’t have the fancy circuitry of most modern vehicles. Come to think of it, neither did his Pontiac Firebird.

  James closed the driver’s door and made sure it was locked. He took his suitcase and his laptop carry bag and began to walk. He had heard all about EMPs before. Who hadn’t? An electromagnetic pulse, however deployed, didn’t just damage electronic circuitry, it destroyed it. There was no moment where things would just start working again. Whatever had been disrupted would need to be replaced.

  He gazed out into the road and saw over fifty cars parked unevenly across lanes. Several had crashed into each other. He took a deep breath and continued through the parking lot, passing agitated, confused strangers who didn’t seem to know at all what was going on. A cell phone suddenly flew past him and hit the ground next, cracking against the pavement. Surprised, he looked over and the cell phone man at the pump, seething and out of breath.

  “Stupid piece of shit phone!” In his fervor, he glanced at James, curious. “Hey. Where are you going?”

  “Home,” James said, turning away.

  The man followed him, near hysterics. “You can’t just leave. What about your Jeep?”

  “It won’t start. None of these vehicles will.”

  “So, what do we do now?” the man asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  James slowed and gave him a curious look. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “My name is Allen,” said the man, extending his hand.

  They shook as James told him his name and turned to go.

  “What happened? Do you know?” Allen asked in desperation.

  James paused again and looked around, surveying the graveyard of vehicles around them, still and silent. “Call me crazy, but I think we’ve been hit with an EMP.”

  Allen thought to himself, scratching his chin. “An EMP? Yes, of course. That would make sense, but…” He stopped as though he had lost the words.

  “I’ve got to keep moving,” James said, walking onto the side road.

  “Man, this is scary stuff,” Allen said, following. “Just my luck that I’m supposed to be at a meeting right now.” He turned and pointed to the Lexus at the pump. “That’s a rental. I’m from Chicago.”

  “Best of luck,” James said.

  Allen stood on the curb, dumbfounded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  James continued down the shaded neighborhood road as the endless chatter from the crowded gas station drifted away in the distance. The house wasn’t too far, only a couple of miles. He and Marla used to take walks that were much longer, but they hadn’t done so in a while. Staring ahead, he felt as though he was in a dream. Perhaps he’d wake up and find Marla in the kitchen again, hurrying off to work. But what was happening was very real, and he’d have to think fast and smart to stay on top of things. Marla was depending on him.

  4

  City Drowning

  By the time James returned home, his legs felt like Jell-O. He reached his driveway and nearly collapsed while dropping the suitcase to the ground. The homes he had passed on his way back didn’t appear to have any power. There were people outside everywhere, some at their cars, others walking in the opposite d
irection of James. He had stayed to the road and kept a steady pace the entire way. He estimated that at least an hour had passed since the EMP strike. He hadn’t a wrist watch or working cell phone to verify, but it was clearly reaching mid-morning.

  No EMP weapon had ever been used against the United States. It would have been something smaller activated by terrorists, or a widespread attack meant to disable the power grid for hundreds of miles. There was simply no way to tell from where he was.

  Feeling somewhat victorious in his journey, he bent down and stretched his calves. He glanced up toward his neighbor Vernon’s porch and didn’t see him or either of his Rottweilers outside. The entire street was quiet enough to raise suspicion. Those who weren’t already at home were most likely stranded somewhere else and trying to get home. He stared into the sky as a flock of birds flew by in a perfect angle.

  James grabbed his suitcase and then hurried up the driveway, feeling a knot in his left leg that slowed him down. He limped to the front door and then leaned against the wall with a sudden panic taking hold. What if the Pontiac wouldn’t work either? He’d be stuck here with Marla in probable danger. There’d be nothing he could do.

  Technology was entrenched in everything they did. Without it, he wasn’t sure how people would behave. His phone had been disabled for a brief hour or two, and he already felt close to delirium. He fished his keys out and unlocked the front door. There was no need to turn off the security system, not if the power was out, and it was. Instead of the greeting of a long beep from the keypad, James heard nothing.

  The air inside felt stuffy and dense. He walked inside and quickly closed the door, locking it behind him. He set his suitcase down in the foyer and walked into the living room. Marla wasn’t home, and while it was foolish to expect her there, he had possessed a small glimmer of hope. All the blinds were shut at the front windows, and he was happy to keep it that way. In another couple of days, they might have to board up the windows. As he proceeded through the house, he flipped several light switches along the way to no effect.