Zero Hour: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (The Blackout Series Book 2) (3 page)

“People like us,” added Madison.

“Exactly. I feel bad that I never anticipated anything of this magnitude. The warning signs were there. Heck, our country has been threatened by a nuclear EMP attack from China, Russia, North Korea and Iran daily. I guess I just never thought it could happen to us.”

“Don’t feel bad,” said Madison. “I’m at home all day, usually with the news playing in the background. I was aware, probably more so than you. I chose to ignore the warnings.”

Colton stood up to stretch again and walked around the perimeter of their pool. He peered through the trees to see if he could see any evidence of light in other homes. The homes were pitch black.

“Our world is much smaller now,” started Colton. “In the past, we were capable of flying at high speeds from point A to point B. There were no boundaries, including the ability to travel through space. Now, streets, neighborhoods, and towns are our universe. For most people, their world will only be as big as they’re capable of reaching on foot or a bicycle.”

“What happens when this reality sets in?” asked Madison.

“For a couple of days, our neighbors will hold out hope for a rescue, so to speak,” started Colton. “We’ll know more about their attitudes as we begin to interact with them over the coming days. These will be difficult times because people won’t know where to turn.”

Colton pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and showed it to Madison. He tried to power it on, but it was dead.

“I get it,” she said. “People crave information, and they won’t have a means to get it. They’re used to picking up the phone and calling the police or the air-conditioning repairman or a doctor or whatever. All of that is gone now.”

“Well, especially the police part,” said Colton. “This was the reason I wanted Alex to go to bed. Madison, our fellow man is the most dangerous living creature on the planet. My grandfather taught me to never underestimate the depravity of man. I believe evil will be on full display.”

Madison rose to join him. She gave him a hug and reassuring smile. He was amazed how well she knew him. Colton was genuinely concerned about their ability to protect themselves. It was just the three of them.

He continued. “Granddaddy used to talk about his days in World War Two. He said in any survival situation, think about what can most likely kill you and protect against that first. Mark that off your checklist, and then consider the next threat, and so on.”

“Makes sense,” said Madison. “Have you thought about it?”

“I have,” he replied. “Human nature encouraged me to rush around here in a panic, trying to protect our home all at once. We need to think this through logically because our supplies and resources are limited. We have to secure our home first, and that will be the first order of business tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Madison. “I have some things I picked up today that will be useful.”

Early in the day, Colton came to the realization that an America without power was no different than a third world country. A new range of threats would become a part of their everyday lives.

“Great,” started Colton. He picked up the leaf skimmer for the pool and stirred the stagnant water. “Water is life. If we become dehydrated, we’ll die. If we drink unpurified water, we’ll get dysentery, which will cause diarrhea and nausea. This will exacerbate the dehydration process, and we’ll die sooner.”

“Nicely put.” Madison laughed.

“Thanks,” said Colton. “You said don’t hold back.”

“Yeah, well, I thought about that today too,” said Madison proudly. “Our fresh water is pumped to us from Metro’s water plants. If the power is out, the pumps won’t work. I bought a few things at the sporting goods store that will help, but I don’t know for how long.”

“In addition to dysentery, starvation kills people in undeveloped nations as well,” added Colton. “Our bodies will break down without proper nutrition. We’ll need the energy to defend ourselves from others.”

Madison approached him and patted his slightly enlarging, soft, middle-aged belly. “I’ve got you covered there too, husband. You’ll be glad I ran over the KIA.”

Colton sat on the retaining wall holding up the hill behind their home. He still wore his suit pants, complete with bloody holes in the knees and newly introduced grass stains. He repeated his grandfather’s words. “Never underestimate the depravity of man. We have to try to stay under the radar. Our best defense is to avoid the fight altogether. If we lie low and don’t draw attention to ourselves, maybe we can avoid conflicts.”

Madison sat next to him and put her arm around his waist. “I guess it all depends on what is going on around us. Tomorrow, we’ll figure it out.”

“Yup,” said Colton. “Please go get some rest. I need to unpack your truck and store that stuff out of sight, and honestly, I need to enjoy this quiet time to think all of this through. Cool?”

“Cool,” replied Madison. “I’m so glad you’re home safe. I don’t care about what’s ahead. I’m thankful for what I have right at this moment.”

“I love you, Maddie,” said Colton as he kissed his wife good night.

Chapter 3

DAY ONE

3:00 a.m., September 9

ALMA

Atacama, Chile

Dr. Andrea Stanford sat alone in front of the triple-panel monitors vacated by her associate Deb Daniels. Daniels, like several other members of the JAO Team, was sent home to seek shelter during the second incoming G5 geomagnetic storm. Only her assistant Jose and a skeleton maintenance crew remained.

Over the past several decades, Earth’s ozone layer in the atmosphere, which provided a blanket of protection from the sun’s damaging rays, had been thinning. As a result, the sun’s radiation could reach the earth more easily, resulting in an increase in the incidence of skin cancers.

Earth’s magnetosphere was under assault. The X58 solar flare punched the planet in the gut, and the trailing blast of heat energy from the coronal mass ejection knocked Mother Earth to her knees. Dr. Stanford rubbed her temples and studied the data. The knockout blow from the celestial body that gave us life wasn’t going to be a sucker punch. It wasn’t a left hook to the blind side. This second massive geomagnetic storm was going to hit the Earth square in the jaw at a time when its defensives were at its weakest.

Although ALMA was located fairly close to the equator, which protected its equipment from the solar electromagnetic pulse, its eight-thousand-foot altitude and corresponding thin atmosphere resulted in a deadly combination for this second wave of ultraviolet radiation. The UV levels were twenty percent higher than at sea level, and when coupled with the proximity to the equator, the risk of permanent damage to the eyes, in the form of cataracts, and the skin, in the form of melanoma, was high.

Dr. Stanford was exhausted. She’d just sent a message to NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain. The data was preliminary, but her conclusions were solid. A series of solar storms were likely to strike the planet forty-eight hours after the first one.

NASA dubbed yesterday’s space weather event—both the X58-flare and the G5 geomagnetic storm—the
Impactor
. Impactor was the strongest solar storm known to man, easily surpassing the strength and intensity of the widely known Carrington Event of 1859.

In 2014, a team of physicists studied the Carrington Event and every major solar storm since the early twentieth century. By extrapolating the frequency of ordinary solar storms and comparing the data to the instances of extreme storms, the physicists calculated the odds of a Carrington-level storm to be twelve percent.

Having been born in Las Vegas, the gambling mecca of the world, Dr. Stanford knew those odds weren’t very good. But when you considered the devastating impact a geomagnetic storm of this magnitude would have on the earth’s critical infrastructure, the odds were actually high. It was a sobering figure.

AR3222 had erupted. It hadn’t just produced the largest coronal mass ejection on record, but another and another. Impactor was just the beginning. It plowed a road through space, allowing the solar winds to soar across the void unimpeded.

AR3222 was alive, fertile, and spawning offspring. Impactor cleared the way for the stork to drop the babies to Earth—in a hurry.

Chapter 4

DAY ONE

4:00 a.m., September 9

Ryman Residence

Belle Meade, Tennessee

Colton fumbled his way through the darkness and found a change of clothes in the laundry room. He disposed of his ruined suit pants in the kitchen trash can. Exiting through the kitchen door allowed him to take a breath of fresh air, as the interior of the home was already filling up with stale hot air due to the lack of circulation from the HVAC system.

This simple process, which he would take for granted on an ordinary day, immediately raised his awareness of how dire this situation was. Without power, how would they wash their clothes? Where would they dispose of garbage? How would they heat their home in the dead of winter? These were all everyday activities that, had he planned ahead, he could have prepared for.

Instead of a large box of powdered laundry detergent, they would’ve purchased the liquid type, which was easily dissolved. Colton wished he had boxfuls of thick lawn and leaf bags for his garbage instead of the thin white kitchen style. A wood-burning fireplace would’ve been a much better option than the
clean, energy-efficient
natural gas burner he was convinced to install by the Piedmont Gas contractor.

Work with what you’ve got
, Colton’s dad would always say. With that in mind, he continued setting up their home for life with no electricity. As tempting as it was to scramble around in a frenzy and do everything before sunrise, Colton suppressed his adrenaline, stress, and fear to allow himself the opportunity to assess their home.

He walked onto the sidewalk leading to their front door and stood in the midst of the red Double Knock Out roses. His lawn was impeccable, and its steep slope provided a deterrent to people or vehicles approaching from the street. He studied the driveway and decided to block it with the Suburban.

Colton had no intention of pulling the Jeep Wagoneer out of the garage. He considered it their most valuable asset. If it was necessary to go, they probably wouldn’t be coming back. He unpacked the Suburban and emptied out all of the compartments. Simple things like pens, paper, and a flashlight key ring all had value now. He even removed the tire-changing kit from the trunk.
Take nothing for granted
.

After he secured the generator and the propane tanks in the garage, he set about maneuvering the Suburban down the driveway. He placed the truck in neutral and muscled the steering wheel in the proper direction.
He’d miss power steering
. Colton began to push, and then he leaped into the driver’s seat just as the Suburban began rolling on its own.

As it picked up speed rolling down the sloped driveway, Colton began to question the plan. The power brakes didn’t work, and the steering was difficult to control. He held on.

The passenger side of the truck careened into the flower bed and elevated itself on top of the decorative retaining wall. But it stopped nonetheless and blocked the entrance to their driveway.
Epic fail
, or
mission accomplished
, depending on how you looked at it.

Colton walked into the middle of Harding Place. At this hour, the streets would normally be quiet, but the decorative street lanterns would be shining brightly. Tonight, the aurora was painted on a pitch black canvas sky. It allowed him to stop and consider his priorities. Standing within a few feet of the O’Malleys’ dead bodies reminded him that he’d have to deal with them before sunrise. The hundred-degree heat of the day would make disposing of their corpses very unpleasant.

He quietly walked up and down the street for several minutes as he recalled the neighbors watching as he frantically worked to douse the fire hours ago. Why didn’t they pitch in and help? With that in mind, he considered—who could he count on?

On the right side of the Rymans’ home lived Rusty and Karen Kaplan. They had been his neighbors for six years and were scheduled to come over this evening for the party. Rusty was the local Chevy dealer who sold them the Suburban. Colton would have to tell him about his experience with the Corvette—but not about the trade. Karen taught preschool at the nearby Methodist Church. They were good people and Colton thought he could count on them.

Drs. Bill and Diane Young lived on the left side of the Ryman home. Both psychiatrists, Colton was sure they previously mocked all of their clients who held delusional fantasies of a post-apocalyptic world. He’d have to ask them about that. The Youngs were antigun, pro-abortion, Suburu-drivin’ liberals who tucked themselves into bed with the comfort of knowing their government would rescue them at first light. While their politics were the opposite of Colton’s, they weren’t a threat to his family’s safety.

Finally, an elderly woman, Mrs. Alma Abercrombie, lived on the other side of the Youngs. She was a sweet lady whose husband, a Vietnam War veteran, died back in the spring. Other than the usual wave and exchange of pleasantries on the sidewalk, Colton had very little interaction with her. He made a mental note to check up on her soon.

Colton focused his attention on the homes of Harding Place and some of their features. The O’Malleys had a greenhouse and a pool—
food and water
. There were cable television repairs going on under the road just past the Abercrombie home—
tools and hardware
. Across the street from an abandoned Comcast repair van, a house was being renovated—
lumber and building materials
.

Then he focused his attention on his own place. Their pool held over twenty thousand gallons of water, but it was stagnant. With no operable pool pump, it wouldn’t take long for algae bloom and mosquitos to take over. He had granulated pool shock for his floating chlorinator, but that would quickly run out. They’d have to work pool maintenance into their routine.