Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One (6 page)

BOOK: Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One
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Neal lowered his voice. “Just a group. One of our lookouts spotted them walking along Main Street.”

The news angered him. “How the hell did they get that far in town without anyone seeing them?”

“I don’t know,” Neal said. “But they’re here.”

“How many?”

“Five or so. I think. Some men. Also women and children in the group. They’re not bandits.”

Arthur looked around and then nodded. “OK. Good work. We need to get over to Main Street ASAP.”

“You want me to round up a team?” Neal asked.

“Just have them ready. I want to greet our visitors first and size them up.”

Neal ran off as Arthur went to speak with his men. Outsiders were problematic to everything he was doing, and he had just the right plan for how to deal with them.

The Hospital

 

The supply run commenced some thirty minutes after the meeting. Rob drove the pickup truck down US-9W, a largely rural route, into Upper Nyack, where they would park the truck, conceal it, and venture toward the hospital on foot. Mila and Peter sat up front. Brad and Carlos rode in the cab. 

They drove past dozens of broken-down vehicles on the road, a stark reminder that not much had changed. The narrow two-lane highway presented its own challenges, but the real danger, Rob believed, existed in the communities taken over by criminal gangs.

With their windows down, the cool breeze of the afternoon air rushed inside. It would be much cooler soon, and they needed more warm clothes and extra blankets to get through the winter.

Among the most important rules of hunkering down was to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to the camp. That meant no fires, no smoke, no shooting, or anything else that would give away their position. Living like ghosts was the only way.  

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Peter said. His arm was resting on the passenger-side window, and although he looked at ease, his voice registered something else. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re attacked.”

“Attacked?” Mila asked. She was in the middle of the vinyl bench seat, and sat up a bit taller. “By what? Another EMP?”

“I’m talking about a full-scale invasion. Now’s the perfect time for any country to take us out. Hell, we already know the Russians did this with the EMP. When are they going to finish the job?”

Rob had heard the Russian theory before. “We don’t know that yet. Nothing has been confirmed.”

Peter scoffed. “And you think they would tell us if it were?”

Mila turned to Rob. “He does have a point, don’t you think?”

Rob kept his eyes fixed on the road. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The EMP was no cosmic fluke. It was an attack. But we still have an air force. A navy. Nuclear weapons.”

“So it’s war, then?” Peter said. “The entire country can’t even turn on a television set right now, and we’re going to mobilize the military for war?”

Rob waved Peter off. The trees were giving way to rural homes and farms on each side. The town wasn’t much farther ahead. “Our biggest problem right now isn’t the Russians. It’s what we face going into town.”

“How bad do you think it’s gotten?” Mila asked.

Rob kept the wheel steady as they reached a sharp, winding road. “Bad enough for us to be extra careful.”

Peter turned and knocked on the back window to Carlos and Brad.

“You guys OK?” he asked.

Carlos nodded. He was wearing Oakleys and a skullcap, and looked tough. The group, as a whole, dressed in black. A package of green ChemLights rest on top of the dashboard. They would need them soon enough.

For the past few weeks, they had seen small fires burning in the distance and now had passed several homes burnt to the ground. People needed fuel to cook with, stay warm with. Rob expected there would be a lot more burned-out homes once it started snowing.

Mila looked at the map resting on her lap. “There should be a shoulder a mile ahead under a bridge where we can park the truck, about two miles from the hospital.”

Rob had other ideas. If they drove into town, they could get out before it got dark. “Let’s see how far we can go,” he said.

Peter gave Rob a thumbs up. “I have to go with Rob. We’re much safer driving than on foot. Don’t you think?”

“As long as no one tries to ambush us and steal the truck,” Mila answered.

It was settled. They pushed on past the bridge bypass and closer to Nyack.

“Looks like they evacuated the town,” Rob said, looking around at the vacant, desolate homes surrounding them.

They entered a residential area, where grass and weeds sprouted in every direction from thickly overgrown lawns. The arched rooftops of the Victorian-style homes were covered in leaves, twigs, and branches from the shedding trees. 

Trash was spread sporadically across the road with large bags, ripped open and rummaged through, blowing in the wind. They passed a crooked sign that said: Speed Limit 30. Power lines seemed reduced to simple eyesores in the suburban ghost town they had just entered. They passed long wooden fences, a mobile home retirement community, and more well-to-do homes, each looking more vacant than the next.  

“Maybe they’re all dead,” Rob said.  

“Who?” Mila asked.

He looked at her. “Maybe we’re all that’s left.”

“Don’t say that. My parents and yours. Our friends and family. They’re still out there. Somewhere.” 

Peter stared outside, keenly examining each home. “Why don’t we search for supplies now? Seems an ideal spot.”

“Hospital first,” Rob said. “We’ll hit this area on our way back.”

Mila trailed her finger down the map to the hospital icon. “Five more miles, I think,” she said. “Just stay on 9 West past Sixth Avenue.”

“I know how to get there from here,” Rob said. He looked over as she folded the map and stuck it in her jeans.

“OK, then,” Mila said. “Show us the way, hotshot.”

“Am I witnessing a fight?” Peter asked.

Rob and Mila laughed. A few more miles down the road, they came upon a series of two-story buildings, complexes, and parking lots filled with vehicles of all kinds and covered in leaves. The unkempt grass was no different from what they had seen earlier—sprouting several feet high on both sides.

Rob slowed as they neared a small green welcome sign with the word “Tartarus” spray-painted over it.

Peter squinted and tried to sound it out. “Tar-tar-rus? What does that mean?”

No one had an answer. Peter looked around nervously.

“What’s that?” Rob asked. There looked to be a group of people in the distance ahead.

“It’s people,” Mila said, astonished.

“Shit! I just saw someone looking out the window of that apartment complex,” Peter said pointing. “Oh! There’s another.”

Peter turned and looked ahead. “More people! Shit. We should have ditched the truck at the bridge. Now what are we going to do?”

“Everyone just stay calm,” Rob said. “Keep you pistols at the ready.”

Upon closer examination, they could see a group of men, ten in all, doing lawn maintenance with manual push mowers—the single strangest thing seen on their journey yet. Rob maintained a steady speed as heads began to turn their way.

“What are they doing?” Peter asked. He turned and knocked on the back window, alerting Carlos and Brad. “Hey! We got company.”

Carlos swung his head around and stared through the glass as Brad followed.

“Cutting grass? Why?” Mila asked in abject wonder.

“Welcome to Nyack,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.

There was something stranger than just the fact that they were cutting grass. The men looked dirty and malnourished, as if someone had gathered a group of vagrants together and put them to work. Their tattered clothes and dispirited gaze didn’t provide any comfort.

Rob’s eyes darted around, looking for anyone else. Three men with rifles emerged from a yard across from the lawn crew, taking a keen interest in the truck’s approach. Rob floored the truck without warning. The engine roared. Mila and Peter flew back. Carlos and Brad tumbled over and hit the floor.

“Hey!” Mila said.

“Stay down!” Rob shouted.

The truck raced past the armed men before they could block their path. Rob wouldn’t have thought twice about running them down. Their faces went by in blurry confusion as the truck sped past, leaving them behind, shouting and running in the distance. Ahead, Rob could see a carefully placed barricade a half-mile away, with cars pushed into every lane, blocking every conceivable spot, so that there was no way to go around it or through it.

“We have to find a detour to the hospital,” he said as they neared an endless sea of automobiles—like a junkyard for newer cars. Their placement was clearly strategic. They had been put there for a reason. Mila looked around and pointed to the next street coming up on the right.

“Take a right on Highmount!”

Rob slammed on the brakes, nearly sending her into the metal dashboard along with Peter. The tires squealed as he jerked the truck in a hard right and floored it down Highmount Avenue. Nothing looked to be blocking their path. Just more strangely vacant buildings, vandalized homes, and leaf-covered cars.

“Take a left on Front Street,” Mila said pointing to the approaching intersection.

Rob made a left, and they found themselves on a clear road, with the hospital in view. Peter took a deep breath, still in a state of shock.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack there, Rob,” he said. “Don’t make my wife a widow. She’ll kill ya.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Rob said, gradually increasing their speed.

They could hear Carlos and Brad tumbling around in back, trying to get upright again.

“Sorry,” Mila said, knocking on the window. Both of them held their heads in pain and looked more than a little angry.

The Nyack hospital was in range: a large, five-story brick building with several smaller buildings arrayed around it. Parked vehicles lined the road on both sides, and the main circular lot was full as well.

The trees surrounding the parking lot were shedding their brown autumn leaves, leaving skeletal, curvy branches, silhouetted against the sky. The hospital building seemed intact, with no activity outside and no one around.

The windows were dark, and it wasn’t clear if there were people inside, but with so many buildings, floors, and rooms, Rob believed there had to be someone in there. He turned at a sign reading “Nyack Hospital: Main Entrance” and then past another sign that said, “Main Hospital” ahead.

“Best find a spot out of sight from the road,” he said. “They’ve seen our truck now. They know we’re here.”

The truck chugged along as they circled around to the rear of the emergency room. Rob looked at the fuel gauge. They were low, nearly on empty. The earlier excitement had taken his mind off thinking of a plan for getting back.

They had brought two empty five-gallon cans and a hose just in case. He only hoped that the fuel in the vehicles around them was still worth a damn—having sat dormant for weeks. 

He stopped and backed in, within inches of a rear entrance to the emergency room. He joggled the shifter on the steering wheel to Park and switched off the ignition.

“OK,” Rob said. “Is everyone ready for this?”

Both Carlos and Brad hopped out of the back.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Peter said. “What’s the plan?”

The rusted truck door squeaked as Rob opened it. “Mila will lead the way.” His feet touched the pavement as he took Mila’s hand, helping her out. “You good with that?”

“That’s why I came,” she responded, retying her ponytail.

“What happened back there?” Carlos asked.

Brad held his head. “Tossed us around like a couple of rag dolls,” he added.

“I’m sorry,” Rob said. “Some men zeroed in on us. They were armed.”

“And how about those guys cutting the lawn. What’s with that?” Peter asked.

The group assembled at the rear of the truck as Rob scanned the area. “I don’t know. But we have to assume they’ll be looking for us soon.”

“Where the hell
is
everyone?” Brad asked. “We’re in the freaking Twilight Zone here.”

Mila looked at the hospital building, feeling a welter of emotions. She hadn’t been to work since the EMP strike, and it felt good to be back, but in a weird way.

She saw two ambulances parked on the side of the building, unattended. The quiet, ostensibly empty building had a somber aspect. She thought about her friends and coworkers, her patients.

“This is the plan,” Rob said, handing empty tote bags to Peter and Mila. “Mila, Peter, and I will search the hospital for supplies. Carlos and Brad, we’re low on gas. I need you to fill up the truck. Twenty gallons should do the trick.”

Carlos stepped forward, angered. “You want us to suck gas out of these cars now?”

“Just do what he says, Carlos,” Mila said and stepped between them.

Carlos shook his head and laughed, appearing to calm down. “Damn … I’d hate to get on your bad side,
señorita
.”

Rob held his hand up, asking them to tone it down. “I’m asking you both because you’ll need to operate as a team. One person gets the gas, while the other keeps watch.”

“Got it,” Brad said.

“We should be gone no longer than five minutes,” Rob said. He stepped back and examined the building looming silently before them. “Maybe ten minutes.”

“The pharmacy is on the other side of the emergency room,” Mila said. “That’s the quickest way.”

Carlos and Brad pulled the gas cans and hose from the back of the truck. “Try to pick us up a breath mint if you can,” Carlos said.

“Will do,” Rob said. He turned to enter the building but stopped short and instead opened the truck door.

“Forget something?” Mila asked.

BOOK: Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One
11.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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