The Pulse: An EMP Prepper Survival Tale (11 page)

"Everything is going to be okay," Terrance
answered. "Your car will be fine for the time being. It isn't going
anywhere."

About a quarter mile ahead, they found a
police car amidst the traffic. The uniformed officer stood outside
his car, messing with his police radio. A small crowd had gathered
around him, trying to get answers.

"People, people," the office said with his
hand in the air. "I have no clue what's going on. I'm trying to
contact the station and get some answers. Just bear with me
here."

The questions came from all sides as Terrance
approached the officer.

"This woman is in need of assistance, sir.
She was very dehydrated when I found her. It's got to be at least
ninety-five degrees out. Can you keep an eye on her? Make sure she
stays in the shade?"

The officer looked at Terrance, startled,
then to Maya. Clearly, he wasn't sure what to say. His stress level
seemed to rise in sync with the rising red flush on his face. "I
don't know. I guess I can try to... hold on," he answered while
messing with the palm-sized mic in his hand. The officer turned
back to them, flustered. "Just, just have her sit over there in the
shade. I'll try to get her some help."

Terrance led Maya toward a large wall on the
side of the road that divided the highway from the opposite lanes
on the other side.

"Just stay here and hydrate," he instructed.
The old woman nodded and leaned against the cement divider wall of
graffiti while gripping the water bottle in her hand. "The officer
should be able to help you soon," he continued. Still confused, she
didn't respond but managed to give Terrance a smile. "Take care,
Maya," he said.

He continued down the highway having five
miles to clear on foot to his neighborhood. If the Atlanta Police
Department were unprepared for an EMP strike, Terrance believed
that rioting and looting weren’t too far off. Maddening frustration
was in the air, especially over the decimation of their cell
phones. People were throwing their phones on the ground in a rage,
smashing them to pieces. No one seemed to know how to cope.
Tensions were high and would soon grow higher.

Christina sat in the kitchen of their house
about to light a cigarette when she hesitated, lighter in hand. She
quit six months ago. That was her story. Only now the power was
out, and her 1996 two-door red Chrysler LeBaron wouldn't start. It
was 9:30, and she was thirty minutes late for work. What she hadn't
told Terrance was that she kept a pack hidden in the kitchen
drawer, stuffed behind a heap of junk mail.

Tobias, Richie, and Paula were all at school,
their third week of a new grade, and for the most part, they seemed
to be doing well. She didn't know what to make of the sudden power
outage. It unnerved her, as did her car not starting or her cell
phone not working. Christina walked outside, put the month-old
cigarette between her lips, held the lighter up, and lit it.

Three miles from the house, Terrance tried the
handheld radio once again. He turned the frequency knob—with
numbers in intervals of ten from 1 to 100, searching for a signal
that would allow him to call Christina. In the past, he had told
his family to always go to channel 40. He had no better luck on 40
than he did on any other channel. He had no way of knowing if any
member of his family even had their radios on. As he got deeper
into the city, he saw the inner workings of pure chaos in the
making. It wasn't just cars and cell phones. Power was out through
the entire city. Shops were hastily closing their doors. People on
foot marched through the streets aimlessly, trying to find a bus or
taxi to take them home. Those who had been on buses soon ventured
out and joined the others walking.

The city was no place to be. Once those
grappling with the loss of power or transportation realized that
things were not going to go back to normal, it would be a much more
dangerous world. That was Terrance's thinking.

"The end is here! The end is finally here! Do
ya’ hear me?!" an unkempt vagrant shouted, jumping in front of
Terrance.

Terrance pushed him aside and kept walking.
He saw the familiar off-ramp exit a mile ahead, the one closest to
his neighborhood. The likelihood that Atlanta had been hit with an
airborne EMP seemed greater with each moment. He thought of the
bug-out van. If his handheld radio survived the EMP blast, there
was a chance the van had too. Terrance remained positive. It was
his motivating factor to getting back home on foot.

Christina had just finished her second
cigarette. She was wearing her green work polo shirt, and black
slacks, but going to work seemed unlikely. She wanted to see if the
power outage extended beyond the neighborhood. She hadn't walked
her neighborhood streets in some time. A slew of recent break-ins
had made her neighbors paranoid and antisocial. She looked at her
smart phone again. Its lifeless screen gave no solace. She couldn't
charge it any more than she could drive her car to work. She walked
back inside and sat in the kitchen, trying to wrap her head around
everything.

She thought of Terrance on the road,
wondering if he was okay. Wondering if he was stranded somewhere on
the highway. Then she remembered the radio, the embarrassingly
bulky radio, bundled in Ziploc bags and aluminum foil, which she
had been carrying in her purse for so long. It could be her only
way of getting in touch with him. She grabbed the radio from her
large green vinyl purse on the kitchen table left the kitchen,
tearing away the protective wrap.

She swung open the screen door and walked
down the steps of their front porch onto the modest patch of lawn.
She held the radio up in front of her and switched it on. The sound
of static was like music to her ears. After stepping over Paula's
bicycle in the middle of the lawn, Christina fiddled with the knob
trying to remember which channel Terrance had told her to use.
After a frustrating start, she heard what sounded like a voice. She
froze and held the radio as still as she could in the air.

"Robinson family. Are there any Robinson
family members out there?”

Christina's eyes lit up with joy. It was
Terrance. She brought the radio to her lips. "Terrance, Terrance,
it's me, baby. It's Christina." Her heart was pounding.

A pause. "That you, Christina?" His voice was
muffled, but it was him.

"Yes, it's me! I just told you that.”

"I'm coming..." his voice faded slightly.
Christina held the radio to her ear then brought it back to her
mouth.

"What'd you say? I'm losing you," she
said.

His voice came back louder. She could hear
that he was breathing heavily.

"I said I'm coming home,” he repeated. “Truck
broke down. Power's out everywhere. I'm on foot and will be there
in about an hour. I’m exhausted. The sun’s killing me."

"But the bug-out van, I could come get you,"
she said.

"No. Don't touch it. Just wait for me to get
home. We have to get the kids."

"You crazy? You're not gonna last an hour in
this heat." she said forcefully.

"Already walked a couple of miles. I'll be
fine. Do not take the van."

Christina didn't know where the keys were,
anyway. Terrance could have them, for all she knew.

"Call the kids..." Terrance said. "I gotta
save power on my end. Keep trying the kids until we hear
something."

Christina thought it unlikely the kids would
have their radios on, but she agreed to try calling them anyway.
"Terrance..." she paused. "Terrance, what's going on?"

"EMP sweetheart; it's taken out all the
power."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice
trembling.

"No. I'm not. But it's the only thing that
would explain it. Atlanta is gonna turn real bad real soon."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need to get the hell outta the
city."

"But, Terrance," Christina began.

"Just listen to me. We're gonna get through
this. Together. It's the only way. I gotta go. Get the kids on the
radio." Terrance was off the channel, leaving Christina with only
static. He got under her skin at times, especially when he was
short with her, but she wanted to trust his instincts.

Terrance had made it a long way, the walk
nearly bringing him to his knees as he inched his way toward their
neighborhood street, Maltby Drive. Drenched in sweat, his hat doing
what it could to shield him from the merciless sun, he pushed on.
The backpack sagged heavier with each mile. It dug into his
shoulders and had trapped the heat and sweat on his back. He had
already downed two bottles of water with only one left.

"Richie, Tobias, Paula, are any of you there?"
Christina called into the handheld. She was outside pacing
throughout their tiny lawn. A couple passed by on the sidewalk and
gave her a strange glance. Her voice grew more desperate by the
moment. After five minutes of calling, she heard a voice of a
teenage boy on the other end. She couldn't tell which son it was at
first but was ecstatic nonetheless.

"That you, mom?" the boy asked.

"Who's this, Tobias or Richie? Where you boys
at?"

"It's Tobias, Mom. I'm in class. I don't know
where Richie is."

Suddenly another voice came over the
transmission. "I'm in school too, you dummy."

"Richie, is that you?" Christina asked.

"It's me. School's a mess right now. All the
power's out. Do you and dad know anything about this?"

"Listen, boys, we don't have a lot of time.
Your father's truck stopped working on the highway. He's coming
back. Have they released anyone from school yet?"

There was a slight pause. "No," Tobias
said.

"No," Richie answered.

"I want you both to find each other and stay
together. If your father's van works, we'll come get you. If not...
you'll both have to walk home."

Another pause. Then Richie, sounding upset,
came over the radio. "Walk home? Are you crazy? It's one hundred
degrees out there."

"That's only if his van doesn't work. If it
does, we'll come get you."

"They opened all the windows, told us to wait
until they figured out what was going on," Tobias said.

"I'm outside anyway, sitting football
bleachers. I wasn't gonna sit in class like the rest of them,"
Richie added.

"Boys, listen to me. Tobias,
I need you to find your brother, and I want both of you to stick
together until we get there.
If
we get there. Go to the football bleachers and
wait there with your radios. The reception will be better
outside."

She could almost hear Richie sighing on the
other end. "Why are you freaking out? What's the big deal this
time? End of the world again? This is ridiculous."

She wanted to choke him over the radio but
tried to control herself. "Richie," she said sternly, "now is not
the time. Just do as I ask." She paused for a moment then pressed
the side button to speak. "Meet Richie at the football field. Both
of you stay there and wait for us to call you over the radio."

As she lowered her radio, she noticed a
figure lurching toward her from down the street. It was a tall man
moving beyond the waves of heat rising from the hot pavement,
looking almost as if he were a mirage. The man was wearing a red
and white tucked-in plaid shirt, blue jeans, and a hat. It was
Terrance, the only man in the neighborhood who dressed like him.
She ran from the yard and down the sidewalk to her exhausted
husband at the end of the hill. "

Terrance!" she shouted.

Terrance looked up at her as if getting his
second wind. She jumped into his arms, pushing him a few steps
back. “Thank God you made it!"

He gasped for air. Christina stopped and
looked at him. "You crazy man, we need to get you inside before you
die of heat stroke."

He nodded as she led him up the hill, past
the suspicious eyes of their neighbors and into their home. Once
inside, Terrance took off his backpack, plopped down on the living
room sofa, and dropped his hat to the floor.

"I opened up all the windows. There's a
slight breeze outside, so it might help." She walked toward the
kitchen. .

"It's good enough. Just glad to be out of
that sun," Terrance said, taking a swig from his last bottle of
water. "Did you get in touch with the kids?"

Christina walked back to the living room and
handed Terrance a glass of cold water. He took it as she sat on the
couch next to him. "Better enjoy it while you can. Fridge ain't
gonna stay cool for much longer."

"You speak to any of the kids?" he asked
again.

"I talked with Richie and Tobias, but not
Paula. I'm not surprised either."

"They in school?"

"Yep. They're there. Both of 'em said that
the power was out and everything else too. Cars, cell phones, damn
laptops. Just like here."

"Honey, it's an EMP. I know
it. This is what they do. We've been attacked. This city is going
to eat itself alive
─
"

Christina placed her palm on Terrance's face,
silencing him. “We can't get all worked up about it now. We got to
get our kids. You got to see if that van'll work."

Terrance nodded in
understanding. "All right," he said, rising from the couch. "I'll
go out back and try it. If it
starts—if
by some miracle we can drive
it, we get the kids, bring them back here, and start
packing."

"Packing?" Christina asked.

"Milledgeville. The bug-out house. Our family
will be safe."

"But the
kids
─
" she
began.

Terrance moved from the touch. "But the kids
what?"

"We're gonna have to sit down and talk with
them. They're gonna want to know why."

"So we try to tell them..." Terrance began.
"In the calmest manner possible."