The Storm (2 page)

              A moment later, the president appeared. Normally confident and appearing to be in control, regardless of what crises the world was facing on any given day, his image was markedly different. Something was wrong, very wrong. Then he began his speech that burned into my memory.

              “Good evening, my fellow Americans and the world,” started the president. “I have come before you this evening with news of a profound nature.” Famous for relying on his teleprompters in his campaigns and speeches, it was immediately notable that he had a yellow notepad with scribbled notes in front of him and was using that as his source material. His suit wasn’t fresh and pressed; it looked like he’d been in the same one for two days. A bead of sweat formed on his head and slowly started to crawl downward toward his left cheek as he spoke. It was quite a departure from the usual images of the man in charge.

              “What I am about to tell you is something I just communicated directly and through diplomats to every other world leader,” continued the president.

              “Aliens” popped out of my mouth as I continued watching. I was now intrigued and half-guessing at what could demand the attention of all world leaders.

              The president, after a pause to take a sip of water and a deep breath, went on. “I and my team have been meeting with leadership from NASA for the past two hours, and we believe that an event is underway that is going to impact every person on this planet.”

              “Shit, it is aliens!” I exclaimed.

              “We have a satellite in orbit around our planet that monitors the sun. As we all remember from our science classes, the sun is a giant ball of gas that is consistently exploding, and this is what fuels our planet.” His voice was fairly flat, but the old president started to hit his stride and get into the zone of delivering a major speech. “On occasion, the sun has extra activity in some places and produces solar flares that violently shoot out into space. Ninety-nine percent of these harmlessly fly into a direction in space that is far from us, but NASA still tracks and studies this activity.”

              With a deep breath, he continued, “We call these solar flares in space a solar storm. Think of it, my fellow Americans, as a tornado that moves in one direction from the sun. It’s very destructive, but the chances of being in its direct path are quite low. The Earth also has some natural defenses in the magnetosphere. Small amounts of solar wind hit our planet most days and create the aurora borealis. Some of these larger storms have hit our planet before. In 1989, a large one knocked out power in all of Quebec. Today, imminently, we have tracked the largest solar storm ever seen, and it’s coming directly at us.” The president was looking at the camera, but his gaze appeared as if he was looking through it and beyond it. That little bead of sweat was now working its way pretty far down his cheek and was building in size.

              “There is a high likelihood that this storm is going to knock out power . . . everywhere.” He paused a moment for that to sink in. He then continued, “Your cars won’t work, your electricity won’t work, we will probably be for a period of time without any ability to generate or distribute any electricity.”

              My mouth dropped wide open.
Is this really happening?
I thought.
Will I have to report in for work?
was my next thought.

              The President’s pace quickened, and he spoke faster, “I don’t know how long this will last or how severe it will be. Our NASA scientists said they are ninety-nine percent sure it’s going to be a big one, and we could be looking at a period of several weeks without power . . . or worse.” He takes another quick pause. “I want to assure all Americans that the US government has prepared for this scenario, and we will continue to function. The army has command and control centers that will continue to operate. We will be moving to an undisclosed location immediately after this speech.”

              “Great, and the rest of us are screwed.” I managed to blurt out as though he could hear me.

              “Though we may lose electricity, I’ve been assured that this storm will not affect anyone’s health. There will be no new cancers from this. Humanity survived for over a hundred thousand years without electricity, and we can do it again for a while if we have to. Lastly, I want to take this moment to appeal to everyone’s kind and compassionate side. If you have food or water and your neighbors don’t, please share. We have to work together and be civil as the electrical grid is repaired. Good luck, my fellow Americans, and God bless America!” The small bead of sweat had now turned into a trickle and was dropping from the side of his face like a small river cascading into a waterfall.

              “Oh my gravy.” I spouted and took a second to reflect on this. The TV had already cut to a couple of reporters who were trying to summarize what the president said, and the bottom read “Breaking news! Electrical grid to fail!”

“Hours,” I said aloud to myself while thinking. “Hours,” came out again. “Food,” was the last thing to come out of my mouth before I turned the TV off and went looking for my shoes and car keys. I had to move fast. Time was limited.

Chapter 2:

Sale on Aisle 5

              I flipped the lights on and ran upstairs to the den, then grabbed my smartphone and keys off the dining room table and checked the time. It was 11:20. LeapMart stays open until midnight, so there was time . . . unless they had the skeleton crew working and half the town showed up, and they only have two exit aisles open. On a normal Friday night, most people are out partying or in asleep in bed. It was only a mile, and anyone else who knew would be on the move as well. Time to get going. I have to dig the candles out of the kitchen cupboard and have matches next to them. Will have to remember to buy some more at the store.

              As I stepped out the front door, I was struck by how nice an evening it was. The DC area can be really hot or really cold at the end of March, but it was in the upper fifties and felt comfortably cool. Nary a cloud was in the sky while the moon and stars shone bright, as best they could through the enormous light pollution of a major metropolitan area. All was quiet and still in my cul-de-sac. A few lights were on in a couple of houses, but otherwise it was a peaceful night. Most of the neighbors worked and were middle aged, and by Friday nights, they were usually wiped out and fast asleep.

              My car, a big SUV that Stacy demanded over a minivan, was in its assigned spot directly in front of our house and small front yard. She was determined not to be a van mom. I started it up and immediately started driving. Stacy had left a CD in, and it quickly switched on blasting “taaaaaaakeeee meeee bacckkkkkk babbbbbyyyy” over and over from some popular boy singer.

              I turned the radio off almost robotically as I sped to the entrance at my neighborhood and stopped at the red light. Again I looked around and there was almost no traffic. What took a minute or two felt like an eternity. Even then, in the face of danger, I wouldn’t break the law and run a red light. How civilized I was. The silence wasn’t helping. It was quiet, except for the engine’s hum and the sound of a lone truck driving through the intersection. Leaning forward, I turned the power back on to the stereo and pressed saved station 1, a rock-and-roll show that was usually the life of some parties at this hour.

              Within moments, reality was back in front of me. The radio started in mid-sentence in a flat voice “and we could be without power for an extended time. Emergency responders have been summoned to duty and the National Guard has already been called up, but it’s doubtful if they will assemble in time.”

              “Sounds like they are doing what they can,” I muttered. The light turned green, the car accelerated, and I turned left onto Plantation Road.

              “We repeat that there is breaking news! The president has just spoken to the people and stated a solar storm was imminently coming and would probably disable the power grids. All people are advised to stay home the next few days while power is restored, and share your food supplies with any neighbors that might not have any.”

              “Awesome!” I blurted. “No work for me tomorrow or probably Monday. Maybe I’ll get the whole damn week off. Stacy will probably make me clean and fix things around the house, and the kids will drive me crazy without TV. It sure beats going to work though. I wonder if my boss will lower my sales goals if we lose a week?”

              The radio continued repeating the same news over and over without adding anything new, so I stopped actively listening. I turned it down so that I could barely hear it, but I wasn’t attentive. My mind was running two steps ahead of my car anyway. What supplies would we need? What would last and what wouldn’t? Stacy usually gave me a list, or I knew exactly what I wanted when I popped into LeapMart. Some food items came to mind, and for some reason, camping kept coming up in my mind. Since my childhood, I’d always had a fascination with camping in the backyard, and it popped into my mind now. Obviously I wouldn’t camp in my own yard now, but some camping tools might come in handy if we don’t have power . . .

              LeapMart is a modern wonder of the commercial age. It’s a big box store that has almost everything anyone could ever need. From gardening to groceries, it was there. The parking lot was well lit, and there seemed to be several other cars pulling in at the same time I was. My fears were well grounded. Even though most of society was asleep, enough were awake that it could get crowded quickly. I parked near the front and quick walked to the entrance while grabbing a shopping cart.

              LeapMart was famous for utilizing technology as a means to compete with the other big retail stores. Instead of an old lady greeting you, there was a friendly, stationary robot that could look at you and would mechanically burst out “Welllllllcome to LeapMart. Happy shopping to you today.” It normally fascinated my kids, and Tabs even tried starting a conversation with it one day, to her disappointment. I blasted by it before it could finish its welcome, and I was off to the grocery area. The cars were really starting to pile into the parking lot now.

              A heavy, middle-aged lady who looked as if she could be a poster child of what causes diabetes cut me off as I approached the fruits.

              “Excuse you,” I said poignantly to her as our shopping carts bumped despite my attempt at stopping.

              “I don’t have time for you,” was the testy reply, and she rapidly grabbed four bags of apples to put into her cart and kept moving.

              “Unreal,” I muttered, as I shook my head and continued. A couple of bags of apples actually seemed like a good idea, so I tossed them in while picking up a few assorted items such as onions and carrots. The frozen aisles were next, followed by dry goods, and finally, the meat section. I had no use for frozen foods now, despite my love affair with those tasty burritos.

              More people were coming in and collecting food. Just as with the fat woman, they weren’t taking one or two of an item as they might in normal times. Bulk shopping the way their grandmothers used to do was suddenly back in style.

              The store loudspeaker came on with a voice that sounded like a terrified teenager. “Attention, LeapMart shoppers. Please be mindful of other shoppers and take your time. We want to maintain a positive shopping experience. Thank you for choosing LeapMart, where the deals are steals.”

              My cart was filling fast with dry goods. Canned meats and fish, as well as soup, could last years. Normally Stacy would shoot me if I served her canned soup, but now it might be all we have. I got cheap containers of ramen noodles and powdered milk. It occurred to me after a few minutes that I had no idea how much this would cost. I had not checked the price of even one item. Food was really starting to fly off the shelves now, and occasional shouts from other aisles could be heard. This was getting out of control. Emotions were escalating rapidly.

             
Boom.
A cart smacked onto my back. “Oww,” was all I could say as I turned around.

              “Yeah, sorry about that, man,” an early twenty-something kid muttered. “Hey man, you gots a lot of tuna. I need me some of that. Can you spare some?”

              “I can’t, man. I’m really sorry,” was the first thing that I could say. “They still have canned chicken over there, maybe you can get some of that?”

              “Whatever, man. You suck!” He wasn’t even looking at me anymore and was already moving on to whatever was next on his mind.

              My cart was almost full, and it was getting rowdy. Open arguments could now be heard and obscenities started to fly. More people continued pushing into the store. “Okay.” I was talking aloud to nobody to help settle my nerves and focus. “Got everything I need, just have to grab some meat to barbeque on the grill the next couple of days, and I’m outta here.” Deeper into the store I went.

              Spinning around the corner from the main aisle, I was immediately rattled by what lay before me. The “fresh proteins” section was desolate. Immediate memories of seeing grocery stores in Soviet Russia with empty shelves and rotting produce came to mind. The store was full and operating normally a few minutes before. Two guys were fighting over some turkeys. It looked like each had a couple in their carts, but there was one last turkey and each wanted it.