Stone Age (17 page)

Wright Ranch, Illinois

Wilber was carrying his Mac 90, a sort of AK-47 knock-off made in China, but tricked up with a silicone stock and short Kimber scope.  He had this gun for years and felt very comfortable with it, having shot maybe ten thousand rounds through it.  It was slung around his neck, his hand on the grip, barrel pointed down.  He walked quietly, looking for the wreckage of the plane that crashed on his property a couple of hours ago.  He was pretty sure that they were not on his property for nefarious reasons, but you could never be too sure.

His Lab, Trixie, was leading the way, stealthily sniffing and walking throug
h the brush and trees, honing in on something.  Of course, the old girl could be hot on the trail of one of the feral cats around here as well. 

The creaking noise of grinding metal on metal caught both their attention.  It was dead ahead less than a few yards from them.

In a clearing, Wilber could see two of the larger oak trees on his property.  He stopped to take in the abnormal picture of a two airplane wings, one on each of the side of two large oaks trees.  A small private plane had flown directly between the two, sheering off its wings.  He continued, while Trixie trotted ahead further and out of sight, obviously catching the scent of someone.

Barking from his dog brought him to a run, until he found himself staring at the beat up rudder of a plane.  What was left of the fuselage was wedged into a bramble of bushes and smaller trees.  Trixie was on point and growling at the occupants.  Wilber couldn’t see any movement.  With riffle pointed at the cockpit, he carefully walked forward.

Peeking inside, he saw both occupants. The pilot looked bloody and unconscious, the other was moving, looking like he had just come to and playing with his open door.  Wilber opened the cockpit door, its injured hinges alerting the waking co-pilot to the intruder.

“Let me see your hands,” Wilber announced his demand to the co-pilot, who had a small gash on his head, but otherwise looked unharmed.  Again, he demanded, “Your hands.”

The co-pilot lifted his hands up, and pleaded with the gun, “Please don’t hurt us,” just noticing the pilot, “Please help us… my father is hurt.”

Wilber re-slung his rifle around his back, assessing they were no threat and needed his help.

“I’m Wilber, this is Trixie, and she won’t bite you if you don’t make any sudden moves.  Are you able to exit the plane and come around to help me with your father?”

“Sure, thanks.  He’s John and I’m Steve.”

Crashing to Earth

Out of orbit, over Texas

Melanie’s calculating mind found endless folly in her actions, now figuring her chance of survival at maybe one in a thousand.  She found much more comfort in her memories, even the sad ones.   She thought about her family and friends.  She had always been single, married to only her career, and her parents passed on long ago.  So her friends and colleagues were her only family.  
What a sad sack
, she thought.  Then she thought of R.T.  She really had feelings for him.  He was attractive and available, being divorced for almost a year now.  She laughed at the awkward ways he attempted to hide his interest in her.  Yet, he was always professional.  That’s what first attracted her to him on this mission.  Most men, especially in superior roles, hit on her constantly.  It was maddening and an affront to all the hours of work she invested in her career. 

But R.T. is different
…
was different
. 

She replayed in her mind, the moment she said goodbye, touching her lips as she did. 

Together, they released the first escape module, sending out four of their comrades.  Then, the remaining two and finally Melanie started to enter the second module, when she turned to find his face in front of hers.

“Make it a good life.  They’ll need you more than ever now,” he said just loud enough to be heard.  “It was a pleasure knowing you.”

She didn’t know what possessed her.  She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips.  “Thank you.”  It was all that she could muster, before he stepped back and closed the hatch, but she could see his face had changed.  It was still a face of determination, but also happiness. 

The ISS was now a faint dot in space, unremarkable except for the feelings she left behind.

“Lieutenant?” a distant voice.

Make it a good life
.

“Lieutenant?” Conrad’s voice from behind, pulled her back to the reality. “How much buffeting do you think we should endure before pulling the chute?”

It was a good question, and one that she didn’t quite know how to answer, even with her advanced degrees.  However, she knew it would come to her, at the right moment.  She knew it, because she was sure they were going to survive this. 
To hell with your mental computations
, she thought to herself.  Even if the odds were one in a million, she would bet on the one.  She knew they would make it now.  A smile formed on her lips. They were the lips she just shared with another, and they would be shared again.

“Not much longer now.”

The Letter

Rocky Point, Mexico

Lisa was looking with wonder at all the supplies stacked on the walls.  Sally inspected the computer console with admiration.  Bill, as directed, reached down below Max’s desk and found a leather satchel with what felt like a large book inside it.  He pulled the satchel out and placed it on the desk.  “I think this is it,” he spoke triumphantly.

Opening the satchel, he reached in and found a wrapped rectangular object, bound together by leather straps, which he placed on top of the satchel.   Pulling on the
straps, the leather hide covering loosened.  Bill delicately pinched each corner of the covering, pulling it to the side, unfolding its contents.   There were two white, recently printed pages on top of a well-worn dark leather journal.

He looked up and found Lisa and Sally both anxiously waiting for him to read.

It was a letter with a giant logo, which looked like Max’s stylized initials, prominently taking up much of the top of the page.  It announced,
From the desk of Maxwell J. Thompson
. 

Bill introduced the letter first, “It’s from Max to all three of us.”  He then read the letter.

To my family (Bill, Lisa & Sally),

It is with deepest regrets that I am not here to deliver this message to you in person.  I am writing this to you with a heavy heart, knowing I cannot be there for you.  I received a warning from a not so nice business partner, Luis Ochoa (he runs the largest drug cartel in Northern Mexico) that another drug gang
might go after me.  I’m guessing that by your reading this, I am either dead or taken captive.

I am hoping I was able to share some of my knowledge about what is now occurring around us, but in case I wasn’t able to, let me explain this to you now.  Our Earth was hit with a devastating series of coronal mass ejections or CMEs, leading up to a massive one today. We’ll call this The Event, and it presumably happened after I wrote this.  I knew this was coming, but no one was sure exactly how bad it would be, and most would have only suspected this to be a one-time event.  Nevertheless, here is a bullet point list of what I believe will happen worldwide:

●
All power will be out – All power grids fried.  This will be permanent and most likely will last the rest of your natural lives.

●
All 20
th
& 21
st
technology will be destroyed – from the internet to any solid state circuit. Anything you turn on, and many things you don’t will be neutered.  Some will explode, melt, or catch fire.  So leave all your electronics in your safe room as I instructed.

●
Millions will be electrocuted - Any conductive material, while the magnetic waves from a CME are being dispersed, maybe electrified. This includes the ocean, so be wary.

●
There is not enough food & water available for everyone as our system of delivery of all our processed food, water, & medicine has been inexorably destroyed.  Because of this, what follows is most important if you want to survive this…

●
The world around you, including most of the people you know, will die.  This may sound really harsh, but it is the absolute truth.  Deal with it now, so you won’t make the wrong choice later.

●
Many people, including those you may call friends, if they do survive, will kill you to get at what I am going to tell you next.

As you know, I have prepared for this event, but you don’t know to what extent.  This workshop/office is stocked with guns, ammo, and other non-food supplies.  Across the street, you’ll find my warehouse.  It is built to look like a regular house but it actually contains enough food, water, and other supplies for all four of us for the next two plus years.  I have left attached to this letter instructions and inventory for accessing all the important areas of this beach house and the warehouse.  Bill already has key to both.

It is worth noting again for your own safety, you CAN NOT tell ANYONE about any of this.  If you even hint at this, you will be murdered for this information.  I’m not just speaking about bad guys. I am saying everyone is your enemy from now on.  Within a matter of one to two weeks, the food supply will run out for everyone in Rocky Point.  Most will turn to the sea, which if not electrified, will sustain many, but there will not be enough for everyone, including most of our American friends who don’t have the skills to survive in this land.  Because of the lack of clean water and no way to wash or to pump sewage, diseases will follow.  You must keep everyone away from your home and this home.  That means, you will (NOT MIGHT) have to shoot even a neighbor to save your life.  That is what the guns are for.

The lone exception to this is Miguel Fernandez, his wife, Maria, and soon to be born baby.  Miguel has helped me enormously and if he or his wife show up, please take them in.  Miguel has helped me move supplies to this house from my ranch in northern Mexico.

Do not drive your truck or my Jeep around.  It will be one of the few vehicles that work because it uses a points ignition system.  The first bad guy that hears you coming will shoot you dead to take your vehicle.  This should be held for an emergency only.  If the house is overrun, and you can escape, I have provided you with a map so you can go to a place I have secured for you in
Colorado.  You’ll find these instructions in the leather book, including the notes of its original owner, my great, great, grandfather, Russell P. Thompson III.

I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I suspect that the power will not go back on in our lifetimes.  That is because I believe the CMEs will continue for years and years, and our magnetosphere which has protected us so far is breaking down, allowing more of the damaging plasma to get through and continue to induce electromagnetic waves throughout our atmosphere:  This is what screws up our radio, internet, and solid-state circuitry.   Additionally, you’ll need to watch out for radiation and UV light from the sun, which will be many times as intense as it is now.   I suspect you will see a rapid increase in skin cancer on those who survive the first year.  Cover up when you’re outside.

I won’t lie to you. The life you will now live will be the hardest you have ever experienced.  But, you should be able to survive with what I left you.   I have faith in you, your abilities, and your love for each other. 

I lost my faith when I went to war and had to kill people for my country.  The cause was right, but I started to doubt God’s existence, and about whether we are anything more than ants to a creator.  Your family has brought me hope and love, and with it, the faith that I lost so many years ago.

I pray that you strive to persevere, even when you will want to give up, that you support one another, and that your love for one another grows.  Most of all, survive, for me.

I pray that I will see you again during this life.  However, if I don’t, I pray that it will be long before we meet again on the other side of death.

God’s peace.

Your friend always,

Max

CMERI

Salt Lake City, Utah

The reflection of a solitary figure grew in the polished glass of CMERI’s front door.  A man with features wrinkled from a lifetime of too little sleep, crowned by gray hair and a fedora, sporting a full grey beard more common to men of a century ago, stopped arm’s length from the handle.  Pulling a single page and masking tape from a leather saddle bag he wore like a backpack, he quickly pasted the page to the door and stepped back.  He considered his immediate work and its message.  Then he gazed admiringly at his lifetime of work, represented by this building.  He would probably never see his building again.  A lifetime of work was completed.  Now time to move on to his next two jobs: surviving and getting to Cicada.

He turned and walked with purpose to a recumbent delta trike parked in the middle of the complex
’s private driveway. There was no fear of blocking traffic that would never come again.  He mounted the seat and pulled down on the fedora’s brim, to keep the winds from taking it.  Pushing forward he began his next journey, the long pedal of over five hundred miles from Salt Lake City to Boulder, Colorado.  He was thankful the world ended during the summer.

The page taken from his stationary at home usually carried a Trebuchet font.  On this one, he had written by hand in careful block writing.

From the Desk of Dr. Carrington Reid

THE END HAS ARRIVED.  ALTHOUGH I HAVE BEEN PREDICTING THIS DAY WOULD COME, EVEN I WAS UNPREPARED COMPLETELY FOR ITS ARRIVAL.

WE EXPERIENCED A WORLDWIDE MULTIPLE CME EVENT.  OUR SERVERS, AND WE BELIEVE, EVERY COMPUTER IN THE WORLD, EVEN THOSE WHICH WERE PROTECTED, HAVE BEEN DISABLED OR DESTROYED.  ALL ELECTRONICS, INCLUDING ALL SENSORS AND TESTING EQUIPMENT HAVE BEEN RENDERED INERT. 

CMERI’S EXISTANCE SERVES NO FURTHER UTILITY, SO WE HAVE CLOSED INDEFINITELY AND HAVE LEFT TO BE WITH OUR FAMILIES.

MOST SCIENTISTS, LIKE ME, ARE OUT OF A JOB.  THE SKILLS WE LEARNED ARE NO LONGER NEEDED IN THIS WORLD.  I WISH I KNEW HOW TO FARM OR HUNT.  IT MAY BE AT LEAST A GENERATION OR TWO, BEFORE WE CAN START USING 21ST CENTURY TECHNOLOGY AGAIN.

I AM GOING TO TRY TO MAKE IT TO COLORADO, TO AN EXISTING COMMUNITY OF HAND CHOSEN INDIVIDUALS WHOM I BELIEVE WILL HAVE THE RESOURCES AND KNOWLEDGE TO REBUILD OUR SOCIETY.

IF ANYONE READS THIS, I’M SORRY I DIDN’T DO MORE TO WARN MORE PEOPLE TO PREPARE.  I TRIED. 

GOD BE WITH US ALL,

DR. CARRINGTON REID,

FORMER DIRECTOR, CMERI