Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One (2 page)

Arthur pointed to Dr. Hughes. “Get over here and strip Officer Rutzler.”

Hesitant, Dr. Hughes looked to his colleagues. Just as he made eye contact with Mr. Lee, Arthur fired, striking Mr. Lee in the face. Ms. Davis threw herself to the ground with her arms around her head. Dr. Hughes remained frozen with his colleague’s blood on his face.

“Move!” Arthur shouted. He went to the table, grabbed Dr. Hughes by the collar, and pulled him out.      

Dr. Hughes tumbled across the ground. Arthur kicked him in the back and paced around in a circle as he writhed in agony.

“You think you can keep me locked up in this place forever?” Arthur paused and leaned down with the pistol in full view. He listened closely for the growing sounds of chaos outside. “Not anymore.”

Hughes gasped for air as he began unfastening Sergeant Rutzler’s boots and pants. Arthur continued, seeming to revel in the moment. “I want to hear you say the words.” He held the pistol to the side of the doctor’s head. “Say, parole granted.”

Dr. Hughes closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and spoke. “Parole …granted.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

He was on a roll, and he had never felt so powerful in all his life. It was time to get even with everyone. He could see it already. He would be mayor after all.

The destitute village of Nyack, New York, had changed drastically. Many of its residents had relocated to the emergency shelters, which provided limited food and a roof over their heads. Those who stayed in town contended with a startling lack of basic necessities. There was no power, no food on the shelves, no fuel in the gas pumps, and—within minutes—no running water.

On Monday, September 12, 2016, a mysterious blast of white light destroyed every electrical transformer in the area, effectively disabling the entire power grid. But electricity wasn’t the only thing lost in those brief moments. Vehicles stalled and sputtered to a halt with their internal circuitry fried, while cell phones and other communications were disabled in an instant.

There was no television. No Internet. No working ATMs, running water, heat or air conditioning. Every modern convenience was gone without rhyme or reason. A logical explanation was out there, but few had the answers. And when it became evident that this wasn’t a temporary crisis, a breakdown of law and order had swiftly followed

             
As a once-quaint village town, Nyack had been rendered unrecognizable in a few short months. But not all of its formerly contented residents were now living there in peril. Some had wisely moved away before the town descended into anarchy.

Miles away, tucked in the mountainous ranges along the Hudson River, lived a peaceful community of men, women, and children. As preppers, they lived off the land, away from their homes and out of sight of the general population. They were self-sufficient and independent people, making their way through the crisis that began one fateful Monday morning.    

On the day of the mysterious blast, Rob Parker moved his family into their cabin to escape the danger he was certain would follow. He and his wife, Mila, had seen enough in the few short hours following the blast to know that the situation was deadly serious.

They made the treacherous trip from their home in Nyack to New York City to retrieve their two children from a field trip at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They barely escaped the chaos of the city, which was like nothing Rob had ever seen before. Thousands of people were on the streets, shouting and pushing their way from block to block. Without any explanation behind the loss of power, mobility, and electronic devices, things quickly spiraled out of control in the nation’s most populated city.

A stunning military operation soon took place. Vehicles were bulldozed and swept aside like street litter by cargo trucks, which seemed to have come from nowhere. Soldiers, deployed from helicopters hovering over the city, were determined to bring order to the streets with brute force. The confused and frightened populace were herded off the streets and dispersed to government-mandated areas. No one, it seemed, knew what was going on.

Rob and his family had managed to escape and make it back to his bug-out car: a red 1979 Datsun. It still ran because it had no computer-run parts to destroy.  

Many people had their own theories about the September 12th strike. Rob was certain that they had been hit with an EMP—a high-altitude electromagnetic pulse, ignited forty thousand feet in the air. It was the only thing, to his knowledge, capable of dismantling power grids, portable electronics, and the internal circuitry of most modern vehicles.

The sudden loss of the most basic and relied-upon conveniences had frightened people, some believing that the end of days was upon them. But how far had it spread? Beyond New York? No one knew. And without basic communications, all that people could do was speculate. 

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Rob leaned against the kitchen counter of his three-bedroom cabin in deep thought. How much longer could they stay there, especially with winter on the horizon? When could they venture back into town? When would it be safe? Such answers remained unknown.

Each day presented new challenges, from rationing their food to getting more, and maintaining a healthy reserve of all necessities. They also had to ensure the security of their camp—consisting of five cabins spread across three acres. They had a twenty-four-hour lookout, and guard shifts were rotated out each day.

Bear Mountain offered the refuge they needed, and at their altitude, they hadn’t encountered anything beyond wildlife. After two months, however, the urge to return home was intensifying among the camp residents. The other families, including Rob’s, feared for loved ones who lived elsewhere. No one knew exactly how far the EMP had reached, and not knowing was the worst part.

As a committed prepper, Rob was prepared to hunker down as long as necessary, though in those early hours of the morning, he contemplated alternatives. He wanted to get a team together and see how Nyack was holding up. Eventually they would need more supplies, too.

Rob knew that organizing such an effort would fall on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. He was happy to help as long as everyone pulled their own weight. At camp, everyone looked out for each other. They had to.

A light breeze blew through the screen of the open kitchen window. It was quiet outside, peaceful even, and the cabin smelled of pine and fresh maple. In a few months, there would be several feet of snow and bitter cold to go with it. They would need to plan accordingly. 

The cabin was made entirely of wood, floor to ceiling. An outside well and pump provided running water, and their portable septic tank and water heater made their conditions livable. The limited amount of electricity from their 640W off-grid solar system was an extra bonus. 

As the owner and operator of Pro-Survival, a small hunting and prepper shop, Rob had sold solar units to each camp resident. He hadn’t seen his shop in two months, and hoped that when he did venture into downtown Nyack, it would still be standing.

Their cabin was minimally furnished, but they didn’t have a refrigerator, television, washer or dryer. Their cell phones and laptops were of no use. Those were luxuries from another time and place.

His thirteen-year-old son, Nick, and eleven-year-old daughter, Kelly, had their own rooms; Rob and Mila shared the master bedroom. The thousand-square-foot cabin was a tight fit for a family of four, and the idea of hunkering down seemed simple enough, but Rob longed to return home—if that was ever an option.

Such decisions would rely heavily on news reports broadcast intermittently over the emergency radio. It was resting on the kitchen counter, and Rob turned the knob, hoping for an update about the power grid being restored or news that the National Guard was being deploying to the area. Anything that offered hope.

The Emergency Alert System hadn’t broadcast a new update in over a week. Their earlier reports confirmed that an electromagnetic pulse had been responsible for the power grid shutdown. But they hadn’t confirmed whether the cause was solar flare activity or a deliberate attack. Seventy-five percent of the nation’s power grid had been disabled, and emergency services had long been overwhelmed. That was the latest news, and it was getting old. The radio began humming, then crackling with static, and finally came in clearly.

“This is a report of the Emergency Alert System,”
the broadcast began. Rob turned the knob up in heightened anticipation.

“The North American Aerospace Defense Command has reported on some thirty-five national black spots that are in the process of receiving sustainment aid from FEMA, the Army Corps of Engineers, and various other emergency response and military agencies. People are discouraged from traveling lengthy distances on foot despite hardships where they have found themselves stranded.”

It was a different broadcast from before—something new. Pencil in hand, he scribbled onto his notepad, trying to keep up with the announcer.

“Emergency responders are currently distributing maps to local emergency centers where food, water, and limited power are available for displaced residents. Those with missing family members can also register names with the National Missing Persons Database. Fresh from his seventeenth emergency summit meeting with law makers and department heads, President Taylor delivered a message on Thursday, saying that the American people should know that the federal government, in conjunction with state and local officials, is doing everything in its power to bring support and relief to hundreds of millions of Americans going through the largest crisis in modern history.

“In addition to the president’s words, FEMA has released a list of guidelines to people waiting for assistance. These leaflets have been distributed to many affected areas. The guidelines provide stranded residents safe directions to the nearest emergency centers.

“They also provide helpful tips on food rationing and water purification, among other suggestions, to those remaining in their homes. They discourage eating raw meat or expired food and trading or bartering with strangers. A national crime wave has reportedly debilitated several urban areas, hindering aid and assistance.”

Suddenly Josh walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “What did I miss? Can we go home yet?”

Rob turned slightly and shook his head then signaled to Josh that he was still listening to the broadcast.

“In their latest report, members of the EMP Commission estimated an additional two months before power grids can be restored. Some government officials, however, demand a swifter response.

“With only a limited number of functional vehicles on hand, the federal government and military are relying solely on air travel, which has remained largely unaffected by the pulse. Officials have urged motorists in possession of working vehicles manufactured before 1980 to donate them to the nearest emergency management office for temporary use.”

Rob nearly laughed as he jotted.

“Two more months?” Josh asked, shocked. He looked forlorn standing there in boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

Rob turned to him again. “They don’t know for sure. It’s all speculation at this point.”

“When do
you
think they’ll fix it?” Josh asked.

“Soon, I hope, but like he just reported … Now let me listen to this,” Rob said, struggling to keep up with the announcer.

Shrugging him off, Josh looked around the cabin. Sunlight beamed in through the windows. The tranquility of their natural surroundings had been nice for the first few weeks. Now he was sick of it. He longed to see his friends. He longed to play video games. He even longed to return to school. He wasn’t the only young person among the cabin group, and there were others who felt the same as he did.

“Latest casualty numbers are currently unknown. Major Law enforcement operations have been organized to control prison breaks and rioting at correctional facilities nationwide. Thousands of hospitals were recently provided sustainment power from military generators recovered from an underground location, unaffected by the electromagnetic pulse.

“Eighty percent of the nation’s fuel reserve has also been consumed in efforts to maintain emergency operations and support. The transportation agency stated that the unprecedented spike in usage will be replenished once normalcy returns to affected areas. The U.S. has since requested the tripling of fuel imports from NATO partners.

“The lack of economic activity in the U.S. has reportedly destabilized markets worldwide, spearheading a global financial crisis. The United States and parts of Mexico and Canada are currently experiencing the same crisis, leading many experts to believe that dispersal of the electromagnetic pulse was deliberate. More developments to come. This has been a broadcast for the Emergency Alert System.”

Rob dropped his pencil and lowered his head. It was real. They were on their own—that much he knew. “Oh my God…” he said under his breath.

“Dad?” Josh asked. “Can we go into town today?”

Rob ran his hands through his hair and then squeezed his eyes shut.

Josh knew his question didn’t sit well, but persisted anyway. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t you think it’s time yet?”

Rob pointed to the radio, his voice rising. “Did you not hear a word they said?”

“Can’t we just check it out? I don’t see what the big deal is with doing that.”

Rob could hear shuffling in the back room. Mila was getting up. At the risk of furthering an argument in their already small and confined cabin, he approached Josh and placed his hands on his shoulders to calm him. “Our actions affect much more than us right now. There are other families here, and we all have to be on the same page at all times. Understand?”

“Not really,” Josh said in a dispirited tone.

“I know you want to go home. I know that you want everything to go back to normal. I do, too. But every move we make has to be planned and agreed upon by the people here.”

“Why?” Josh asked, looking up.

Rob removed his hands and scratched his scruffy chin. “If you and I were to take the car or even walk into town, others will see us. Bad people who would harm us. They could ambush us or follow us up here, putting
everyone’s
lives at risk. Do you understand now?”

“I guess,” Josh said, looking down.

“Hey, look at me,” Rob said. Josh slowly lifted his head and looked up at Rob, sadness and discouragement in his eyes.

“We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Mila said, entering the kitchen. She was wearing plaid pajamas, and her shoulder-length black hair was tied in ponytail.