Countdown to Armageddon (18 page)

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     Scott was scrambling. Thanks to his laziness, he was already an hour behind schedule, and he was cursing himself every step of the way.

     Once he rolled out of bed and discovered the power was off, he checked his phone. It was dead. He picked up the flashlight on his night table. Dead.

     He fairly flew out to the Ford Explorer parked out in front of the house. Then the F-150 pickup. They were both deader than doornails.

     The old professor was right. It had really happened. And none of their lives would ever be the same again.

     He went outside to the Butler building he’d modified into a Faraday cage. First, he swung open the double doors. In front of him was a huge plywood box covered on all sides by heavy wire mesh.

     The mesh on each side of the box was connected with wire ties to allow a steady current of electricity around the box when the EMP hit. He had to snip the wire ties connecting the front of the box with the top and sides before he could open the box.

     Once that was done, it was simply a matter of easing the heavy door, which was hinged on the bottom, down to the ground. The door was heavily reinforced to take several hundred pounds of weight, since it acted as a vehicle ramp in addition to a door.

     Scott scrambled into the box and jumped on his Gator. He pulled the choke halfway out and held his breath.

     It fired right up. The Faraday cage had worked as advertised.

     He quickly inventoried the supplies that had already been loaded onto the tiny pickup bed on the back of the Gator. A case of bottled water. A large box of trail mix. A pair of battery operated night vision goggles, and extra batteries. Two two-way radios with batteries. An assault rifle and a 9 mm
handgun, with ammunition. A five gallon fuel can, full of fuel to augment the already full tank. Tents, blankets and  sleeping bags.

     He had everything he needed. He drove the Gator outside the compound and locked everything up. Then he drove down the long and winding drive to the narrow road that fronted the property. He turned right and drove a short distance to the string of high tension power lines he’d follow to his house in the city.

     But before he began his journey, he had one more thing to do.

     He got off the Gator and took a spool of brown thread. When placed close to the ground, it would be practically invisible.

     Scott ran a piece of the thread completely across the roadway, and about six inches above it. He secured it by tying each end to a rock.

     Then, in a flash, he was back on the Gator and on the road.

     There were two gravel roads that the power company had used to maintain the towers. One ran along the west side of the towers, and about twenty feet away from them. The second was between the legs of the two hundred foot tall towers. That’s the one Scott chose.

     His logic was sound. If someone saw him coming from afar and got the hare brained idea to try to knock him off the Gator, it wouldn’t work. It was a fifty yard sprint from the brush to the road beneath the towers. Scott would see them in time to take evasive action.

     And if they just wanted to shoot him off the Gator, they’d have to be a good shot. Hitting a fast moving target from fifty yards away wasn’t easy, unless you were an experienced hunter. And at the first sign of trouble, Scott would crouch down to make the shot even harder.

     He expected to make good time, helped by the fact that the utility company did an excellent job of keeping their service roads maintained. Although made of gravel, it was very tightly packed and smooth. There were no potholes at all.

     In addition, the compound was over six hundred feet higher in elevation than his home in San Antonio. It was all gradual, of course, and barely noticeable over the seventy mile stretch. But it meant there were no uphill grades to slow down his progress.

     He looked at his watch, and then the sun in the sky. Then he did some math in his head and figured that, barring any trouble, he’d make it to his house and meet up with everyone else around ten p.m.

     He just hoped that everyone else was there when he arrived.

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     “Jordan, where are you going?”

     His girlfriend Sara had been sitting in the orchestra room, her violin in her lap, looking out the window. Waiting for the power to come back on so they could finish the chair competition they’d been working on.

     Suddenly, out of the far parking lot, she saw Jordan, walking quickly like a man on a mission.

     The orchestra room had a door that opened to the parking lot, to make it easy for a truck to pick up their instruments for concerts at other schools. Sara took advantage of that fact and quietly slipped out the door to flag
Jordan down.

     Mr. Rodriguez, the orchestra director, didn’t care. He was sound asleep at his desk in the back of the classroom.

     Jordan was somewhat taken aback by Sara’s sudden appearance.

     “Baby, get back in the school. You shouldn’t be out here.”

     “You’re out here. Why can’t I be?”

     She had a point.

     “And where are you going?”

    
Jordan was between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it.

     Keeping the whole compound thing a secret from Sara was one thing. Outright lying to her was something else entirely.

     “Look. You’re not supposed to know this. The lights are off for good. They’re never coming on again. None of the vehicles will ever run again. The world has gone back to the stone age, and it’ll be that way for the rest of our lives.”

     Sara’s jaw dropped.

     “Jordan, what on earth are you talking about?”

     “Sara, my dad found some professor’s notes. He predicted this. And my dad believed him, and we’ve been planning for this for over a year now. Since long before we met.”

     “Why didn’t you tell me?”

    
Jordan was at a loss. He knew there were no words that would justify his behavior.

     “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

     “I’m going up into the mountains. My family built a safe place to live. Someplace where we’ll still have electricity, and be able to grow our own food. I’m sorry.”

     Sara pondered his words. Then tears welled up in her eyes and she looked at him.

     Her words were but a whisper.

     “But what about me? Where will I go?”

     “You’ll wait here with everybody else until your parents come for you. They’ll protect you and care for you.”

     She flew into a panic.

     “From St. Louis?”

    
Jordan’s heart hit the floor. He’d forgotten that Sara’s parents were out of town. They’d gone to Missouri to attend some great aunt’s funeral. Sara was all alone.

     Sometimes, when under pressure and faced with an important decision, we have a tendency to do something really stupid.

     But sometimes, under the very same circumstances, we do something very noble.

    
Jordan hesitated for only a moment. Then he took her hand and started through the parking lot with her.

     “You’re coming with me.”

     Sara left everything behind: her violin, her books, her purse. But it didn’t matter. She had Jordan, and she was trusting him to guide her. If he was right, their lives would never be the same again. If he was right, they had only each other. From now on.

     They went to his car, and they made plans on the fly as he assembled the bicycle.

     “Your house is only a few blocks out of the way. We’ll go by there first. You can pack a bag with a few clothes. You won’t need many. I think you’re the same size as my mom. While we’re there you can write a note to your mom and dad. You can tell them you’re safe, and you’re with my family. And that we’ll bring you home when it’s safe to do so.”

     He got the bike put together and tied the backpack behind the bike seat.

     “Get on,” he said. “But don’t go too fast. I’m not a fast runner.”

     They made it a couple of miles before they had to stop and rest. Sara stepped off the bike and walked it alongside
Jordan as he caught his breath. A couple of men eyed them from fifty yards away, and Jordan became worried.

     “If they come over this way, it’s probably to steal the bike. If they start to approach us, I want you to jump on it and ride as fast as you can. Don’t stop until you get to your house. I’ll meet you there.”

     But the men seemed to lose interest and walked in another direction. Perhaps they saw the look on Jordan’s face and thought they could find an easier target.

     Or perhaps they never had any ill intent and
Jordan was just paranoid.

     They made it to Sara’s house within an hour and a half.
Jordan was exhausted.

     Sara unlocked the house and they rolled the bike into the living room with them.

     Jordan collapsed on the couch.

     “I’m beat. Grab just what you need. Remember whatever you bring, we’ll have to lug all the way to my house. And don’t forget to write your parents a note.”

     After ten minutes, Jordan went to the refrigerator and guzzled a full bottle of water. He knew it would probably cause his stomach to cramp during the run to his house. But it tasted so good he just couldn’t find the will power to stop drinking.

     Sara came out of her bedroom with a bright pink “Hello Kitty” backpack.

     “Great,” he muttered. “How old are you again?”

     “Oh, shut up. My regular backpack is in my locker at school. This is an old one.”

     He couldn’t help but smile. Sara was becoming a woman. But she still had a lot of little girl in her.

     “Did you write a letter for your folks?”

     Sara held up a sealed envelope with “Mom and Dad” scrawled across the front.

     She laid it on the kitchen counter and took a second bottle of water from
Jordan.

     She drank half the bottle, unzipped “Hello Kitty,” and dropped the half filled bottle into the bag. Then she put the bag on her back, tightened the straps, and said, “I’m ready to go.”

     They walked out the door and locked it behind them.

     Sara had only a few secrets in her life, and only one that she kept from
Jordan. That was, of course, until now.

     Now she kept two from him. For she knew something that he didn’t. She knew that the envelope she placed on the kitchen counter held no note. It was completely empty.

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     Zachary was exhausted. His feet hurt, his back ached, and he just wanted to lie down and crash for a couple of hours.

     But he knew there was way too much to be done.

     As expected, he was the first one to the house. Although he was the only one on foot, he had by far the shortest distance to travel. And he had the energy of youth. Everybody else was old. Well, except his brother. But Jordan had a very long way to ride his bike.

     He suddenly got an image of his mom riding a bicycle. For some reason, it struck him as funny and he chuckled as he went to the kitchen and took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

     For a brief instant he wondered to himself why it wasn’t very cold. Then he remembered the situation they were in, and he felt very stupid. Good thing there was no one else around and he didn’t make the observation out loud. He’d have felt like a dumbass.