James Hunt

BROKEN LINES

A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

The Steel Mill

The floorboards creaked when Mike stumbled from the bed to the bathroom. He tripped over one of Anne’s heels and cursed under his breath, kicking the shoe out of his path. He turned around to make sure he hadn’t woken her up. She was still drooling on her pillow.

Mike crammed himself into the tiny bathroom. His legs smashed up against the side of the tub when he closed the door. He splashed water on his face letting the cold shock him awake. Droplets of water speckled his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. He cracked his knuckles, wincing with each pop.

He showered, shaved, threw his boots on, kissed Anne on her forehead, and did the same with his daughter, Kalen, and son, Freddy, then was out the door.

Dirt and bits of rust and metal flew up from the cloth seats of his truck’s cab when Mike sat down. He pulled the handle of the glove box open. He shoved a small bag out of the way and pulled out a badge. He pinned “Yard’s Steel Mill” to his chest. Scraps of metal and steel rods rolled and clanked in the truck bed as he reversed out of the driveway.

The blue digital lights of the dashboard clock glowed 6:11a.m. The view of the Pittsburgh skyline from the interstate was still outlined in grey without the morning sun. Mike’s fingers twisted the radio tuner, searching for a station. Static and scramble came through until he finally landed on an AM station

“Good morning, Pittsburgh. It’s a beautiful Wednesday morning here at 560 WFRB. Traffic right now is clear on highway 62. The first day of summer should be a hot one as temperatures are expected to get into the mid-eighties this afternoon, so taking the kiddies to the pool to cool off might be in order now that school is officially over.”

Mike pulled into the parking space of an empty lot outside a small, fading brown one-story building. He walked through the empty parking lot up to the automatic sliding glass doors. A smiling receptionist gave him a wave when he entered.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hey, Nicole,” he said. “Is my dad ready to go?”

“Should be. He was finishing getting ready when I walked past him this morning. I’ll give him a buzz.”

“Thanks.”

A few elderly folks with walkers emerged from the hallway into the waiting room where Mike sat. Their liver-spotted hands gripped the steel-grey handles of their walkers. The green tennis balls at the bottom slid across the carpet propelled by their slowly shuffling feet.

Ulysses walked down the hallway weaving in and out of the shrunken, hunched over, elderly obstacles and walked right past Mike without looking at him. The automatic sliding glass doors chimed open when Ulysses passed through them and headed for Mike’s truck.

Mike’s eyes went from the exit back to Nicole, whose lower lip was protruding, still watching Ulysses walking to the truck.

“Pirates lose last night?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” Nicole replied.

The sun was rising in the east, coming up over the skyscrapers in the foreground. Beams of orange light hit Mike’s and Ulysses’ faces through the windshield of the truck. Blinkers and taillights flashed in front of them in the thickening traffic. Mike flipped on his left blinker to merge. A horn blared and sent Mike swerving back into his own lane and sending Ulysses’ shoulder slamming against the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Ulysses said, adjusting his seat belt.

“You all right, Dad?”

“I could have driven myself.”

“The doctor said you wouldn’t be able to drive after the tests.”

“Tests. Pills. Needles. Activity time. You know I helped construct half the buildings in this city?”

“Dad, I told you to just come and stay with us. We have the spare bedroom.”

Ulysses waved him off. He twisted a thick gold band around his wrinkled fingers.

“I won’t be anybody’s burden.”

The clock dashboard flashed 6:55a.m. when Mike pulled into the hospital’s drop off lane.

“The doctor said the tests should only take a few hours. I’ll come and grab you on my lunch hour and take you back to the retireme—” Mike started, but Ulysses spun his head around. Mike knew he hated that word.

“Back to your place, okay?” Mike finished.

“Yeah, okay,” Ulysses said.

“Hey, and don’t give the staff any trouble if they have to bring you out in a wheelchair this time.”

“If I can walk out on my own steam I’m going to do it. I don’t need a goddamn wheelchair.”

Ulysses flung the passenger door open, climbed out, and slammed the heavy metal truck door behind him.

* * *

The steel mill was already filled with the sounds of cranes, trucks, and the shouts of supervisors giving orders. Mike joined the line of men waiting to clock in. A solid row of hardhats and baseball caps were ahead of him.

Paul White, an elderly man almost his father’s age, squinted down at a computer screen. His large hands fumbled with the icons on the touch screen.

Don, a twenty-something man in a greasy jumpsuit, shifted from side to side. His eyes drilled into the back of the old man’s head.

“You just hit clock-in, grandpa,” Don shouted.

Paul stayed focused on the screen. His finger hovered over dozens of tiny icons. He jumped a bit when Mike grabbed his shoulder.

“It’s usually easy to find my name, but I’ve never seen this screen before,” Paul said.

“It’s all right, Paul,” Mike said.

Mike pressed a few different icons and pulled up Paul’s name. He hit ‘clock-in’ and a large green check mark appeared.

“Thanks, Mike,” Paul said.

Paul hobbled off into the yard and Mike walked back to his spot in line.

“I’m surprised you were able to figure it out, Mike. I figured once they got rid of that old punch card reader half the plant would retire,” Don said.

“Let me know if you need help getting your welder running, Don. I wouldn’t want you to burn your hand again.”

Mike grinned walking back into place listening to the rest of the line chuckling behind him.

* * *

White, yellow, and orange sparks flew into the air from Mike’s torch. Two pieces of metal he was working on fused together. He turned the torch off and flipped his welder’s mask up. He tore off his gloves and wiped the dripping sweat from his eyes, smearing dirt and soot onto his cheeks.

The lunch whistle blew. The continuous motion of loading steel girders, pouring lava-hot metals, and welding ceased.

The cafeteria’s tables were crowded with men, shoulder to shoulder. They dug into the lunch pails packed with sandwiches and leftovers. Their heads, hair flattened from their hard-hats, bobbed up and down over their food as they ate. Mouths full and laughing.

Mike bit into his BLT, the crunching of bacon and crisp lettuce filling his ears, when suddenly the lights shut off and the cafeteria went dark. The humming of lights and machinery went silent. The men groaned collectively.

Mike pulled out a small flashlight on his keychain and pressed the power button. Nothing. He could hear the clicking of the button, but no light came on, no matter how many times he hit it.

Once Mike’s eyes adjusted to the darkness he joined the rest of the workers exiting the cafeteria. He looked up into the corners of the walls where the emergency lights were installed. Why didn’t the emergency power go on?

The yard was eerily quiet. Steel beams being moved from the yard to trucks teetered in mid-air from cranes. The hum of the furnaces was silent. Workers opened truck hoods checking the engines that stopped. A gathering crowd formed around Glenn, the foreman. He had his hands up trying to calm the men around him.

“Hey, everybody, listen up. Power’s down for the entire block. By the looks of it, we’re probably going to be closed for the rest of the day, so everybody goes home,” Glenn said.

“Is this gonna be paid leave?” Don asked.

“Are you working?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

The workers started heading for their cars. Mike walked among them watching everyone shake and tap their mobile devices. Don cursed, shoving the phone into his pocket.

“Goddamn thing never stays charged.”

Mike pulled out his own phone. The screen was completely black. He held the power button down, but the phone wouldn’t turn on. He knew it had a full charge this morning when he left for work.

One of Mike’s co-workers smacked into his shoulder, rushing past him. He looked up from his phone and saw some men in the front of the group rushing toward the parking lot. Soon the rest of the group started running and Mike was caught up in the current of people herding forward. Mike pushed his way to the front of the pack next to Don.

All of the cars along the highway were completely still. Wrecks dotted the road for miles. People were outside their vehicles checking the engines. Some were walking toward the city while others sat on the side of the road expecting someone to come and get them.

“What the hell?” Don asked.

Mike thought of the back-up generators that hadn’t turned on, the machines in the yard that had shut off, and the dead cell phones. All of it added up to one thing.

EMP burst.

The Streets

Mike was the first to break for his truck. A few other people followed him, but most people stood in the yard staring at the stalled cars along the highway. Gravel kicked up behind him. He stuck his hands in his pocket, fumbling for his keys in mid stride. The truck door flew open and he reached for the glove box yanking out the small bag inside. The hospital where he dropped his dad off was a few miles away. If he kept up a steady pace he could be there in thirty minutes.

The factories and warehouses on the edge of the city slowly morphed into office buildings and small businesses the closer he moved to the hospital. The silence of everything was eerie. No engines running. No horns blaring. No power lines buzzing. There was only the silent murmur of crowds piling into the streets looking confused in the motionless city.

People held their cell phones in the air, looking around, asking questions to one another. Growing crowds surrounded the police officers stationed on corners. Mike could hear the bombardment of questions and pleas:

“What’s going on?”

“When is the power coming back on?”

“Why isn’t my phone working?”

“My car got hit back on 4th street and the guy took off!”

“Help me.”

Mike’s pace slowed. He squeezed in and out of the growing crowds piling into the streets. He could feel the restlessness growing in the people around him. He thought of what this mob would start doing once they realized what he already knew.

Yesterday Mike watched two men get into a shoving match over a fender bender. On Monday when he was standing in line for coffee the woman at the front had an outburst because the barista said they were out of the white chocolate creamer she liked.

Now, there were wrecks on every corner. There wasn’t internet, or transportation, or a way to keep people’s food from spoiling. There weren’t any ATMs that were working, no way to call for help or to check to see if someone’s friend or family member was okay. There wasn’t even any power to turn on the barista’s coffee machines. The whole city was shut down.

After twenty minutes of running, Mike clutched his ribs. A knife-like pain was digging into his side, running from his hip to his shoulder. The ring of sweat from the summer heat formed around the collar of his shirt. The crowds had grown so thick now there wasn’t enough space for him to run. He slowed to a brisk walk. He stared down at his feet, feeling the throbbing ache of running in boots.

Mike stepped up on the platform of a street lamp to get a better view of what was in front of him. A large crowd had gathered in front of the precinct a block away. A line of police stationed outside was attempting to control the hordes of people rushing to get inside.

Just beyond the precinct he could see the front of Allegheny General. Behind the crowd in front of the police station, on the other side of the street, a space opened up where Mike could get by. He jumped down from the lamppost and made his way toward the opening.

Mike pushed his way through crowds of people on the other side of the street, his fingers gripping the small bag in his hand. Elbows jabbed his side, shoes stepped over his boots, and shoulders collided with him. The summer heat combined with the sweaty bodies around him made the air thick and hard to breathe. The crowd was hot, uncomfortable, and irritable.

An officer’s voice boomed through a bullhorn outside the station. He kept his hands up in the air addressing the crowd. Officers in riot gear appeared from the side of the station wielding shields and batons. The crowd hadn’t noticed them yet.

“I need everyone to please remain calm. We are working with state and federal officials to figure out what’s going on and when the power’s coming back on. I need everyone to make an orderly line and I assure you one of our officers will be available to address each of your concerns individually. Anyone that does not comply and becomes disruptive will be arrested.”

People on the outside of the crowd in front of the station started pushing their way to the front. One man grabbed a woman’s shoulders and threw her backwards. An officer in riot gear subdued him before he made it into the crowd. A teenaged girl had a backpack on and the woman behind her pulled the backpack down smacking the girl into the pavement. The riot officers grabbed the woman’s arm and cuffed her as well. All around the outskirts of the crowd shoves and punches started to breakout.

One by one the mob outside the station was being curtailed, but others were showing up gathering behind the riot police and trying to get in the station.

The shouts from the bullhorn faded behind Mike. He glanced back and could see the swarm of bodies overwhelming the officers. He still had his eyes on a man being thrown to the ground and handcuffed when the gunshot rang out in the alley behind him.

A solid ringing went through Mike’s ears. The shot was close. Mike dropped to his knee and the crowd around him ducked and scattered like cockroaches being discovered when a kitchen light turns on. He rose from his knee and was smacked in the face by a stray elbow from the crowd around him. More bodies ran into him, tossing him around like a pinball machine. He could see a man in the alleyway, clutching his stomach, sliding down the wall of the building behind him.

Mike pushed through the crowd, the ground seeming uneven beneath him from the blow to his head. The ringing in his ears subsided and was replaced by screams and cries for help.

“Guy f-fucking shot me. I d-didn’t even have any c-cash on me,” the young man said.

“What’s your name?” Mike asked.

Mike opened the bag he brought with him. He rummaged through it pulling out white bandages.

“G-Garry,” he said.

Garry’s entire body was shaking. Mike lifted Garry’s hands off the wound he was covering and shoved bandages in its place to staunch the bleeding.

“Garry, I need you to keep pressure on this okay?” Mike said.

Blood soaked Garry’s shirt and the red stain was growing larger. Mike kept both his hands over the wound, helping to keep pressure on it. Color faded from Garry’s face.

“Am I gonna die?” Garry asked.

Mike felt the spasms of Garry’s body against his hands, the struggle to stay alive. The eyes staring back at him were scared, tired, and losing their fight. Garry’s green eyes seemed brighter against the pale flesh of his cheeks. Mike’s son’s eyes were green.

“Allegheny General is just a few more blocks. I need to move you there now, but you’ll need to keep pressure on the wound,” Mike said.

Blood spilled from Garry’s gut when Mike removed his hands from Garry’s stomach. Mike threw his arm around his shoulder and took the bulk of Garry’s weight onto it.

Mike pulled Garry from the alleyway, his feet dragging behind him, drips of blood splattering against the concrete underneath.

When they appeared out of the alleyway, people just stared at the two of them. Everyone took a few steps back. Nobody was sure what to do. Mike stared into faces filled with fear, panic, and uncertainty. A guy in a business suit came up and threw the young man’s other arm over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Mike said.

The crowds outside the hospital were enormous. The shouts, cries, and pleas for help drowned out any sound or ability to hear. The three of them kept moving forward, each bump into the person in front of them cleared a path to the hospital’s doors.

People jumped back in revulsion. Most people had minor injuries and the sight of blood dripping from Garry’s stomach, his head hanging limp on his neck, caused them to get out of the way.

Nurses and doctors ran around the lobby. Patients were being treated in the chairs in the waiting room. Trails of blood stained the hospital’s tile. The only light visible shone through the glass doors from the entrance. Mike could see a few candles down the hallways, offering a slight glow in the darkness.

Mike reached out and grabbed a doctor’s arm passing him.

“I’ve got a critical patient with a gunshot wound to the abdomen,” Mike said.

The doctor’s eyes fell on Mike, Garry, and the man helping them. He lifted Garry’s head up and opened his eyes. He placed his fingers on the side of Garry’s neck. The doctor shook his head.

“I’m sorry, boys. He’s gone.”

The room around Mike went into slow motion. The frantic nurse that rushed up and stole the doctor, family members begging with the medical staff to do more, and the blood dripping onto the tile from Garry’s stomach seemed unreal. Ten minutes ago the man he was holding up was alive.

They dragged Garry’s body over to a corner of the room next to a door with “MAINTENANCE” written in white bold letters, and set him down. Mike grabbed a sheet off a stretcher and tossed it over Garry’s body. Mike turned around and the man that had helped him was gone. Garry’s blood was still warm, lingering on Mike’s hands. He smeared his shirt, attempting to wipe the red from his fingers.

No matter how hard he wiped the blood wouldn’t come off. The metallic stench filled his nose. He could feel it, taste it. He had to get out. Mike made a beeline for the door, savagely pushing people out of his way, and then he stopped suddenly.

“Dad,” he whispered.

Mike turned on his heel and grabbed another nurse rushing past him. He held her by both of her arms.

“I’m looking for my father,” he said.

The nurse squirmed to free herself from Mike’s grip. Her face twisted from the uncomfortable feeling of the unfamiliar touching her.

“Sir, please let me go,” she said.

“He came in for a blood test this morning.”

“I have to get ready for surgery.”

“Where is he?”

“I-I think they put all the non-critical patients on the third floor.”

Mike let her go and sprinted for the stairwell. The door was propped open. The light from the lobby doors and windows flooded the first flight of stairs. He could see faint rays of light above him from the open doors in the stairwell.

Two large orderlies carried an elderly man on a stretcher and were making their way down to Mike as he reached the second floor. Mike could see the white wisps of hair on the old man’s head, the limp hand hanging off the stretcher with a gold band around the ring finger, but couldn’t see his face. Mike’s heart leapt and he pushed the orderly aside to see get a better look.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing, man?” the orderly asked.

It wasn’t his dad. Mike let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d held.

“Sorry,” Mike said.

Mike moved to the side of the stairs and let them pass. On his way up the last flight of stairs he could overhear the two orderlies below talking.

“You think he’s gonna make it?”

“You kidding me? You see what’s happening right now? Anybody who’s dependent on modern medicine ain’t gonna last much longer. The old man’s a goner.”

Hospital

Mike leaped the steps two at a time. He burst through the open door into a hallway on the third floor. He looked left, and bright sunlight shone in from a window down the hallway. To his right, the hallway faded from the light into darkness. He rushed past nurses, doctors, and patients, scouring the floor for his father. Shouts from hospital staff filled the hallway.

“We need IV drips going in rooms twelve, nineteen, and seven.”

“We need a doctor in here now!”

“Ma’am, please, we’re doing everything we can to help your husband.”

“Any spare candles should be put in the operating rooms.”

Mike squinted, trying to make out the signs hanging from the ceiling. He read “ICU”, “ADMINSTRATIVE DESK” and “BLOOD LAB” on the bottom with an arrow pointing further down the hallway.

Mike weaved in and out of the traffic of people clogging his path. He passed rooms and saw the figures in bed, unmoving. He saw nurses huddling around candles, filling syringes by their light. He walked past the intensive-care unit. The silence of machines replaced by the sobs and screams of mothers, fathers, wives, and husbands slumped over lifeless bodies.

Beyond the ICU Mike passed the blood-soaked operating tables with doctors frantically trying to keep their patients alive. All of the technology used to aid them in surgery now gone.

The sign of the blood lab was plastered on the door. Mike bolted inside. The room was pitch black.

“Dad?” Mike whispered, but no answer.

Mike exited the lab. He stood motionless in the hallway. The hospital staff rushed past him. He had no idea where to look next.

“Michael!”

The light from the window down the hall outlined Ulysses’ silhouette. Mike couldn’t make out the reaction on his father’s face upon seeing him, but Mike knew Ulysses could see the relief spreading across his own.

“Dad,” Mike said, running toward him. He took his father in both arms, pinning him against his chest.

“I thought I’d lost you, old man,” Mike said.

“Not yet,” Ulysses replied. “I need your help.”

Mike tried to keep up with his father. He noticed the red bandage around Ulysses’ arm.

“Are you all right?” Mike asked.

“There are some people trapped in the elevator down the hall. I don’t know how many,” Ulysses said.

“Dad, did they give you any insulin?”

“I’ll need you to hold the doors open until I can pin them in place.”

“Dad!”

Mike seized his father’s arm. He whipped him around and the two stopped dead in their tracks. The flow of people moving through the hall rushed around them like water breaking on rocks in a river.

“Michael, I’m fine,” Ulysses said.

“Did they already give you your insulin?” Mike asked.

“The lights went out before they could give it to me.”

“We need to get you that medicine now.”

Ulysses jerked his arm out of his son’s grip.

“After we get those people out of the elevator.”

Ulysses marched back down the hallway and Mike turned his head back to the direction of the blood lab. He should have tried to grab the insulin before he left.

The shouts coming from the elevator shaft roared louder the closer they moved to it.

“You sure they’re below us?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, we need a drop key to get the doors open. I went looking for the maintenance room, but I couldn’t find it,” Ulysses replied.

“It’s downstairs. I saw it on my way up,” Mike said.

Mike flew down the hallway and rushed back down the stairs. When he reached the first floor, the number of people inside had doubled.

Mike stepped forward and his boot slid on the tile; he stuck his arms out trying to steady himself. He looked down and saw his boot print smeared in blood. His eyes followed the trail to other fluids staining the white hospital tile.

Mike pushed his way through the growing masses in the hospital’s lobby. When he reached the maintenance door he saw Garry was right where he left him. Mike paused, glancing at the covered heap of flesh.

The maintenance room was chaotic and unkempt. Mike hunted through drawers with mixed tools, light bulbs, and spare screws. Blue jumpsuits hung on a rack along the wall. He searched the pockets, turning them inside out. He reached the last jumpsuit on the rack and as his hand dug into the outer pocket he could hear the jingle of keys. Mike flipped through them until he found the three-inch long rod with a hinge piece hiding amidst the rest of the silver and bronze keys surrounding it.

* * *

Ulysses had gathered more candles and was joined by two stocky built men, Adam and Sam. Mike handed Ulysses the elevator key and he jammed into the hole letting it fall into place. The elevator doors’ locks released.

Adam and Sam pulled the doors open. Mike glanced down and saw the elevator was stuck between the second and third floor five feet below them. The shouts were more audible.

“Help us!”

Ulysses stretched out his hand to grab the cable and Mike knocked it away.

“I’ll go down and check first,” Mike said.

Before Ulysses could protest Mike shimmied down the cable. His landing shook the elevator car a bit and he yanked the service hatch open.

A nurse in scrubs was furiously pumping a patient’s chest on a gurney while a young girl squeezed an air mask over the patient’s face.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“His pacemaker went out when I was taking him upstairs for some tests. We need to get this guy out of here and into surgery now,” the nurse said, while continuing to pump the man’s chest.

“Adam, I’ll need your help getting him out,” Mike said then looked over to his dad. “As soon as we get this guy out of here you’ll need to start CPR on him.”

“Okay,” Ulysses said.

Adam took Mike’s place on top of the elevator and Mike slid through the service hatch. Mike noticed the trembling hands on the young girl holding the mask. Her face was down and her hair hovered over the patient’s head. Mike placed his hands over the young girl’s. She looked up when their hands touched. Her eyes were misty.

The nurse brought the straps from the side of the gurney and tightened them over the patient’s body.

“We’ll move him on three. One, two, three,” Mike said and he and the nurse lifted the patient to Adam’s extended hand.

Mike pushed the patient up through the service hatch with the nurse’s help and watched it disappear out of sight. He folded his hands like a step and motioned to the young girl.

“C’mon, you’re next,” he said.

The girl placed her Converse sneakers into Mike’s hands and he lifted her up to the ledge of the service hatch above. He could see Adam’s hands grab under her arms and pull her the rest of the way.

“Thank you,” the nurse said.

“Up you go,” Mike said and thrust the nurse up to freedom.

Once everyone was out of the shaft, Sam jumped down to the top of the elevator next to Adam and the two of them lowered their arms inside the service hatch. Mike jumped and grasped both of their hands. He felt himself being yanked up through the hole in the ceiling and then his feet landing on the metal casing on top of the elevator.

The nurse and patient had already disappeared. The young girl wrapped her arms around Mike when he stepped back into the hallway. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen. His hand held the back of her head gently and then, without a word, she left.

“Appreciate your help, boys,” Ulysses said shaking Sam’s and Adam’s hands.

“Yeah, thank you,” Mike said.

The two men nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Ulysses pocketed the maintenance keys. Mike gave him a frown.

“They might come in handy later,” Ulysses said.

“Dad, we need to find the pharmacy here,” Mike said once the others had left.

“What for?”

“We need to grab you as much insulin and needles as we can.”

Beyond the busy operating rooms and ICU, the rest of the hospital was eerily quiet. Mike could see shadows moving in the rooms he passed and hushed murmurs coming from the inside. The deeper they went into the center of the hospital the quieter it became. Patients sat in the darkness, some with loved ones, others completely alone.

Finally, Mike saw “PHARMACY” painted in bold black letters across a door window. Inside he found a twelve pack of 10 ml bottles. Mike found a backpack and emptied the contents. He stuffed the pack full of insulin and disposable needles. He tossed one to Ulysses.

“Take one now before we leave,” Mike said.

“I have that stuff back at my place. You don’t need to steal it, Michael,” Ulysses said.

Mike’s gut turned sour. That’s what he was doing wasn’t it? He’d never stolen anything in his entire life. Then he remembered the hordes of people trampling each other to get into the police station. He saw the young man with the gunshot wound. He wasn’t going to let his father die when he had the means to save him.

“C’mon, Dad. We need to get out of here,” Mike said.

Mike peeked around the corner outside the lab. The hallway was empty. He motioned for his father to follow and he walked briskly down the hall.

On their way back to the stairs, Mike noticed a large group crowded around the window. He pushed his way through the crowd and made it to the edge of the windowpane.

The streets were chaos. Looters smashed windows and ran from stores with whatever they could carry in their hands. People were jumping and stomping on car roofs. Police officers were in full force in their riot gear trying to calm the riots breaking out everywhere, while those not joining in the riots searched for places to hide.

Mike pushed his way back to his father.

“What’s going on out there?” Ulysses asked.

“Nothing good. We’ll have to take the back way out of here. I-279 is right behind us. We can hop on that and take it to 65 back to my place. I’m not sure how safe it’ll be, but we should be fine as long as we make it back before dark,” Mike replied.

Mike and Ulysses rushed down the stairwell and burst out onto the first floor. Almost everyone that wasn’t dead or dying had crowded near the large lobby windows to watch the events outside.

They hurried down the hallways, turning left and right around corners, searching for the back exit of the hospital. Around every turn was death. All of the failed equipment in the hospital had turned the place into a morgue. There were so many individuals that couldn’t survive without the aid of machines and the computer chips that powered them.

When Mike and Ulysses finally made it out the back they shielded their eyes from the sun. Mike could hear the shouts of voices coming from the other side of the hospital, voices with a mindless purpose of chaos.

The Highway

The summer sun was brutal. Even the asphalt was sweating. Mike and Ulysses trudged between the abandoned cars on the highway. Other travelers were spread out on the road, heading to whatever home they still hoped was there.

It’d been three hours since they left the hospital. Mike pulled the water bottle from the bug-out bag he grabbed from his truck at the steel mill. The rays shining through the plastic hitting the water shimmered like crystals. He had to keep reminding himself to drink, while restraining himself not to down the entire bottle in one chug.

Mike pressed the bottle to his forehead, attempting to cool down. The water felt hot against his head. He reached out his hand to Ulysses, but the bottle hung in the air, and when Mike looked over Ulysses was gone. He spun around searching behind him.

“Dad?” Mike asked.

Ulysses was bent over on his knees and slowly slid down the driver’s side door of a car and collapsed on the pavement.

“Dad!”

Ulysses sprawled out on the ground. He was breathing quickly, panting like a dog trying to cool off, but with no success. Mike lifted his father’s head up and felt his forehead. He was burning up.

Mike tipped the bottle into Ulysses’ mouth. The water spilled over his lips and dribbled down his chin. Ulysses coughed and pushed the bottle away from his face.

“Dad, you have to drink,” Mike said.

“I’m fine.”

“Goddammit, Dad, now’s not the time to be stubborn.”

Ulysses put his hand down and took a few more gulps of water. Mike dropped the bottle in Ulysses’ lap. His eyes fell on the bandage around his arm where the hospital staff had drawn blood.

“Did you take that shot I gave you before we left the hospital?” Mike asked.

Ulysses took another sip of water, avoiding his son’s face. Mike ripped open his pack and pulled one of the bottles of insulin out of his bag. He ripped one of the needles out of the packet. He pulled the syringe back, filling it with the insulin from the bottle. Mike jammed the needle into his father’s arm and emptied it.

That was typical of his father. Never thinking he needed outside help. He’d never needed it before. He worked two jobs while going to school finishing his engineering degree. He lived in a broken down apartment in the slums of the city when he was first starting out, with barely enough money to feed himself, and ended up as head engineer for one of the most prestigious firms in the city.

When Mike was little his dad was superman, he could lift him up in the air with one arm. Now, just like the patients in the hospital on life support, without this tiny bottle of liquid he’d be dead.

Mike joined his dad under the shade of the car. The two of them sat there in silence for a while. The people passing them didn’t bother to stop. They didn’t think to ask what was wrong. They just kept moving toward their destinations, mindlessly. Mike thought about his destination. He needed to get back to his family.

“You and I both know that those insulin bottles are only good for another month,” Ulysses said.

Mike’s heart dropped. He’d never heard his father talk like that before. His dad had always been the one to push forward, find solutions, and get it done. It was the first time in his life he’d heard his father hint about the inevitability that comes to all men.

“Insulin isn’t the only thing that can help fight diabetes, Dad,” Mike said.

“It’s the only kind that can fight the type I have, and you know it.”

“Think you can walk?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” Ulysses replied.

Ulysses handed the bottle back to Mike and the two headed down the path toward home. Mike’s eyes kept wandering to the windows of the cars he passed. Items left behind in the vehicles that he could easily take. Flashlights, emergency flares, food, water, all sitting in back seats, cup holders, and glove boxes.

Stop it. His eyes went back to the road. He wasn’t a looter. He only took the insulin because without it his father would have died.

Two men one car over from Mike were talking in whispers trying not to be too loud. One wore a grey Steelers jersey and shorts. The other was dressed in a short-sleeve polo and khaki pants.

“I’m tellin’ you, man, this was an EMP,” said polo shirt.

“It’s just a power outage,” said Steelers jersey.

“A power outage doesn’t cause your phone and car to break down.”

“You really think it’s the whole country?”

“Why haven’t we seen the national guard roll in yet? You saw what was happening in the city; people were going nuts.”

“You think it’s safer in Philly?”

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

“Stay out of the cities,” Mike said.

The two men glanced over at Mike, who was looking at them.

“Your best bet is to head to a town with a small population. Gather whatever supplies you can and get to somewhere remote.”

“You think it was one of these EMPs that did all of this?” Steeler’s jersey asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Mike replied.

“Is that what you’re doing, survivor man? Going to get supplies?” Polo asked.

Then Mike heard it behind him, the low roar of an engine and the stiff shifting of gears. A light blue Chevy truck rumbled up the emergency lane.

People froze. Mouths dropped, and then arms flew up in the air. People made a sprint toward the car. Their frantic hands hit the side of the car, pounding on the windows, begging for a ride.

“Can you take us to New York?”

“I’m trying to get to Dayton.”

“Please, we’ve been walking for hours.”

“I’ll pay you, just please let us get in.”

The truck crawled to a stop from the blockade of people. Mike could see the young man and elderly couple inside the truck cab. The young man rolled the windows down.

“Hey, get out of the truck,” the driver called, turning toward the back.

Everyone was jumping in the truck bed, shoving each other out of the way savagely to make room for themselves. The unwanted passengers banged on the roof and sides of the truck demanding that they move forward.

“Get out of there! Now!” the driver said getting out of the truck cab.

The elderly couple held onto each other, their eyes wide with fear. One of the crowd members tried to climb in the driver’s seat when the driver got out, but he shoved him away.

Ulysses sprinted for the truck.

“Dad!” Mike said.

Ulysses had pushed his way through the crowd to the passenger side door. The truck started to rock back and forth. The driver turned around and saw Ulysses trying to pull his mother out.

“Don’t you dare touch her, asshole!” he said.

The young man leaped over the hood of the truck shoving Ulysses back. The crowd around them had grown to at least sixty people. Mike came up from behind and subdued the driver in a headlock.

“Dad, get them out,” Mike shouted.

Mike dragged the young man away from the crowd while Ulysses helped the elderly couple out of the cabin. When they were finally clear of the chaos around the truck Mike let the young man go.

People crammed themselves into the truck. Someone finally jumped behind the wheel and slammed on the gas. The truck hit several people before they were able to get out of the way. It swerved, smashing into cars and the concrete wall along the highway. People in the truck bed were falling out and smacking onto the pavement.

The truck drove further down the road with more people chasing after it. The young man started after it, but stopped when he realized his parents wouldn’t be able to keep up. He came back and took a swing at Mike’s head, who ducked out of the way.

“What the hell, you piece of shit!” the young man shouted.

“Calm down, boy,” Ulysses said.

“Calm down? Our truck is fucking gone!”

“Somebody would have shot you, stabbed you, or hurt your parents to get that truck,” Mike said.

“It’s okay, Chris,” the boy’s father said, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, and with that the fight went out of him.

“We made it all this way,” Chris said.

“You should have stayed off the highways. That’s where most people will turn to when they travel. It’s large, familiar, and if other people are traveling it’s possible for them to get a ride,” Mike said.

“There were so many people begging us for rides. My parents kept yelling for me to stop, to pick some of them up, but I knew what would happen if I did,” Chris said.

“You did the right thing,” Mike replied.

As the five of them walked along the road Mike saw him glance back at his parents, shuffling along the highway next to Ulysses. The boy’s father had his arm around his mom while Ulysses chewed their ear off about last night’s Pirates game.

“They’re not going to make it,” Chris said.

“Don’t count them out just yet,” Mike said.

Mike was speaking about Chris’s parents, but looking at his dad.

The sun sank lower in the sky the further they moved west. The orange ball in front of them spread its colors across the sky in pinks, reds, and fading blues. Chris’s exit came up and they parted ways.

“Good luck, Mike,” Chris said.

“You too.”

Ulysses shook both of Chris’ parents’ hands. They turned onto the off ramp that would take them to Chris’ girlfriend’s house. Mike watched the couple grasp each other’s hands and follow their son’s lead. He wanted them to make it. He wanted them to survive.

Mike and Ulysses were about an hour away from home when they came across the blue Chevy truck turned on its side. Blood and bullet holes riddled the windshield. The mob that had attacked it didn’t know why the car was working, they just saw it and panicked, but Mike knew.

The truck that had worked was too old to have any computer chips in it. That’s why it ran, but the masses didn’t care about that. They just wanted something to work, without understanding why.

Across the dashboard, slumped over the wheel of the truck, Mike recognized the back of the Steeler jersey. Mike kept his eyes forward and the smoke rising from the wreckage grew smaller behind them.

Home

The sun had completely disappeared from the sky when Mike and Ulysses turned onto 24th Street. Most of the driveways were empty. The windows along the street were dark. There was only one dim light coming from down the street: his house.

Mike felt himself running. His feet lost their pain. His face lost its weariness. His body lost its fatigue. He ran up the driveway digging into his pockets for the keys, fumbling them in the lock and thrusting the door open.

“Anne? Kalen? Freddy?” Mike shouted.

Mike looked up and saw Anne lean over the railing on the second floor. He watched her face fade from a smile to shock. Her feet thumped against the steps as she rushed down to him.

“Oh my god. Mike, are you all right? What happened?” she asked.

Her hands touched the dried blood on his shirt. She touched gingerly, looking for a wound that wasn’t there.

“I’m fine. The blood it’s not mi—”

Mike stopped. He pictured Garry’s lifeless body covered with the white sheet where underneath his green eyes were open, unmoving, frozen.

“It’s not mine,” he finished

Mike gently leaned his forehead against hers. The candles in the foyer barely lit the features on her face, but he already knew every line of it with his eyes closed.

“Are you and the kids okay?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine. The kids are a little restless. Mike, what’s going on? Nothing’s working. The phones, laptops, cars, everything’s dead.”

“I know. You didn’t try and take the Jeep out did you?” Mike asked.

“No, why? Would it work?”

“Yes, but let’s keep that to ourselves for now, okay?”

“What makes you think it will work?”

“It doesn’t have any computer chips in it.”

He watched her face process what he said, then saw her hand slowly cover her mouth in realization of what that meant.

“Jesus,” she said.

“I hope you’ve got room for one more,” Ulysses said, finally catching up with Mike.

Anne composed herself and hurried over to Ulysses, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Anne said.

Ulysses kissed the top of her head.

“Still breathing. How are you and the kids holding up?” he asked.

“Well, Freddy went over to Sean’s house and Kalen’s at Malory’s,” Anne said.

“Shouldn’t Kalen be here? She’s grounded,” Mike said.

“What’s she going to do over there, Mike? Everything she’s grounded from doesn’t work,” Anne replied. “And besides, she was driving me nuts.”

“I’m going to change upstairs and then bring the kids home. Will you set up the guest room for dad?” Mike asked.

“The couch will suit me just fine,” Ulysses replied.

“I’ll have the spare room ready in no time,” Anne said.

* * *

Mike walked down to Sean’s house to grab his son. He didn’t mind Sean, but his father, Nelson, was a man he could never understand. They just didn’t  have anything in common.

When Mike rapped his knuckles on the front door he could hear the shouts of the two boys running around inside the house. Nelson answered and smiled.

“Mike!”

“Hi, Nelson. I’ve come to collect Frankenstein’s monster.”

Freddy came running by the front door. His head was hidden inside a cardboard box that had two eyeholes cut out and a wide, toothy mouth drawn across it.

“Dad!”

Freddy rushed toward his father. Mike lifted him up in the air and tilted the box up to see his son’s face.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Dad, the power went out and then Kalen got really mad because she couldn’t look at pictures of James, the boy she likes, and then I told her that she should just stand outside of his window and drool at him there and then she threw her phone at me and Mom yelled at her and then she screamed about how she hated living here and that when she moves to New York the power will never go out, but I don’t mind the power being out because I got to be outside all day.”

“I’m glad you’re making the best of it.”

Mike turned to Nelson.

“I appreciate you watching him, Nelson.”

“It’s no trouble. He’s welcome to come over any time, but umm, Mike, before you go,” Nelson said, stepping outside the house and closing the door behind him.

Mike stood, still holding Freddy in his arm. He watched Nelson fold his arms across his chest. He was worried.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Nelson asked.

“No.”

Mike wasn’t sure why he lied, or why he answered so quickly, but when the words left him, he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.

“It’s just… I haven’t been able to reach Katie on her cell. It’s like everything’s fried,” Nelson replied.

The flashbacks from the mobs in the streets popped into Mike’s mind. He remembered the smell of blood and heat from the hospital, the rush of panic spreading through everyone in the city.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Nelson.”

“I know. I just worry.”

Mike knew that Katie was some sort of vice president at a company. It was a large corporation, so he figured she must have had some sort of security detail with her. He thought that would at least give her a chance.

“Well, you guys have a good night,” Nelson said.

“You too,” Mike said.

“Bye, Sean,” Freddy said, waving his arm wildly at his friend through the front window.

“Now, it’s time to go and get your sister,” Mike said.

“Do we have to?” Freddy asked.

* * *

Mike’s daughter seemed less pleased to see him. When Malory’s mother, Genie, came to the door and called her name, letting Kalen know that her father was here for her, she trudged downstairs, marched out of the house without looking at him, and walked down the street.

“I hope she didn’t break anything while she was here,” Mike said.

“Oh, Mike, she’s fine. She’s just a teenager. No worse than mine,” Genie replied.

She bit her lower lip looking at Mike.

“You know, if you ever need any advice or anything you can always come over,” she said.

Freddy’s eyes opened wide. Mike smiled awkwardly.

“Have a good night, Genie,” he said.

“You too,” she replied.

Mike shook his head and Freddy mimicked him.

“I think she’s crazy, Dad.”

“Me too, bud. Me too.”

* * *

Ulysses had made the best argument he could, but by the time Mike and the kids got back to the house Anne had already set him up in the spare bedroom downstairs.

“Your daughter was thrilled to see me,” Mike said.

“My daughter?” Anne asked.

“She’s got you written all over her.”

“If by that you mean she’s smart, independent, and beautiful, then yes. Those little gems were mine. The stubbornness, well let’s just say I almost had to get violent with your father before he agreed to sleep in the guest room.”

Anne kissed his cheek and headed into the living room and plopped on the couch. Mike took Freddy upstairs and tucked him in. On his way back down to the living room he passed his daughter’s room and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?”

Mike opened it up and his daughter was on the floor flipping through the pages of a magazine.

“Hey” Mike said.

She didn’t look up at him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Everything all right?”

“I can’t use my phone, laptop, car, or listen to music, so no, everything is not all right.”

“Kalen, I just wanted to- “

“I’m going to bed, Dad.”

She glanced up at him and walked to the door.

“Goodnight,” he said.

A burst of air hit Mike as Kalen slammed the door shut. He lingered there for a moment, and then headed back downstairs.

Mike lay down across the couch and rested his head in Anne’s lap. She ran her hands through his hair and circled the small bald spot on the top of his head.

“Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to point it out,” Mike said.

“What? It makes you look tough.”

“It makes me look old.”

“Hey, if you’re old, then what does that make me?”

“If the boot fits.”

Anne smacked his chest. Mike winced and snatched her hand in his. He ran his fingers along her soft hands, gently rubbing them, and then he brought them to his lips and kissed them.

“What’s wrong?” Anne asked.

“It’s going to get worse,” Mike said.

“Aren’t there measures for stuff like this?”

“Not on a scale this large. I don’t think there’s a single piece of technology left in the country that’s still working. If it had a computer chip in it, then it’s toast.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to start getting everything ready in the Jeep tomorrow, but we’ll stay here as long as we can. We have enough food and water to last us a while, but we won’t be able to take all of it with us.”

“The cabin?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them glanced around the living room. Pictures of holidays, vacations, the kids’ sport events, snapshots of the history of their lives, all here in this house. He got up from her lap and put his arm around her. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and they sat there in silence, holding each other while the candles in the room flickered, casting their shadows on the walls around them.

The Second Day

There really wasn’t a breeze, but Mike had opened the windows of the house anyway. The heat was intense. Even Freddy, who never complained about anything, was starting to feel it.

“Is the power ever going to come back on?” Freddy asked.

Kalen was still on her ‘not speaking to anyone’ strike, unless it was asking when the next time food would be served.

Mike spent most of his morning in the cellar. The walls were lined with shelves of canned goods. He had bags scattered along the floor, half-filled with food.

A tall grey safe sat in the corner. Mike unlocked the door and revealed two twelve-gauge shotguns, a .223 lever-action rifle, a 9mm Smith & Wesson, and a .45 Colt revolver. Boxes of ammo for each lined the sides and bottom of the safe.

He heard a knock from upstairs and Mike grabbed the 9mm and tucked it behind his shirt. He closed and locked the safe and headed upstairs.

When Mike opened the door he was greeted with Nelson flashing a neighborly grin.

“Hey, Mike, how are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Nelson. What can I do for you?”

“Well, since it’s been about a day since the power’s gone out and we’re not sure when it’s coming back on we all thought we’d get the neighborhood together for a grill out. It was Bessie Beachum’s idea. The food won’t last much longer and she figured it’d be a nice way to get everyone together.”

“I don’t think that’s something we can be a part of today. We’ve got a lot of chores around the house to do.”

“Oh, come on, Mike. We already have the grills going. It’ll be fun. Oh, hi, Anne.”

Mike felt Anne come up behind him.

“Nelson, how are you?” she asked.

“Well, I’d be better if you could convince Mike to join the barbeque today.”

“Barbeque?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re getting the whole neighborhood involved.”

“Sounds great. What time?”

“In about an hour.”

“I’ll bring some patties out of the freezer.”

“That’d be great! I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

Nelson trotted off to the other neighbors and Mike shut the door. Anne stood there grinning at him.

“It’s going to get worse, huh? Armageddon’s barbeque. How will we survive?” she asked.

Mike waited until she was out of earshot before he said anything.

“And you think our daughter gets the attitude from me.”

* * *

The turnout for the barbeque was huge. Bessie Beachum had gathered the whole neighborhood and had coordinated anything and everything people could want. Burgers, ribs, hot dogs, beers, liquor, ice cream, popsicles, anything that wasn’t going to last in the freezers and fridges was on the menu.

The whole setup was a makeshift combination of picnic tables, lawn chairs, and card tables. Everything was parked at the end of the cul-de-sac.

Ray Gears even had an old record player he brought out. Everyone munched on their hamburgers while listening to the sounds of the Beach Boys.

It almost felt like a normal Saturday during the summer. Mike allowed himself a moment to actually enjoy himself and even managed to get a smile out of his daughter by drawing a smiley face on Freddy’s forehead with the tip of his fudge pop.

Nothing felt as if the city behind them was being ravaged with violence and despair. Here they seemed out of its reach, but Mike knew what would eventually come, and the momentary joy he felt slowly disappeared.

The lower the sun sank in the sky the drunker most of the parents became. With the party winding down, Mike helped organize the cleanup. He was clearing one of the tables when Bessie Beachum started walking toward him.

“Mike, you don’t have to do that,” Bessie said.

Bessie had her hair done up, fresh makeup caked on her face, and that wide unnaturally forced smile you see people use when they’re pissed about something but want to hide it, and Bessie could get mad about anything.

A few years ago there was a family that moved in down the street. Their kids were in a band together and they were pretty good. They’d practice every chance they could in their garage, but Bessie managed to get a petition signed banning them from practicing because the “noise pollution” was detrimental to the neighborhood’s reputation. The family moved out a month later.

“It’s fine, Bessie,” Mike answered.

“Well, I appreciate you helping out. I think it was a great turnout, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it seems like everyone enjoyed it.”

Mike looked up and saw that she was lingering. Her arms were folded and she was squinting at him.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” Mike asked.

“It’s just that, well, I find it odd that everything isn’t working. I mean, it would be one thing if it were just the power, but our car, phones, laptops; things that aren’t plugged in aren’t working. Do you happen to know what’s going on?”

“Not really.”

“I know that you’re one of those people who… prepare, so I was just curious to hear your thoughts. You must have some idea of what’s happening, right?”

Mike changed the subject.

“We should get all of the garbage cans together, centralize the trash. It’s going to build up fast.”

Bessie flashed another forced smile.

“I’ll get Ted to round them up,” she said.

Bessie trotted off, her heels clacking against the pavement. With her back to Mike the plastic smile faded. She found her husband, Ted, cleaning his grill and holding a beer can.

“Mike knows something,” Bessie said.

“Knows about what?”

“He knows why nothing’s working. I mean they go once a month to that stupid cabin of theirs in Ohio practicing their survival skills. He’s hiding something.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us if he knew? Maybe he really doesn’t know.”

Bessie’s arms slumped to her sides. She cocked her head to the side looking at her husband, who was putting some serious elbow grease onto one of the blackened spots on the grill. She snapped her fingers and he finally looked up.

“Ted!”

“What?”

“Just get the trash cans together and put them in between Nelson’s and Mike’s houses.”

* * *

Mike tossed the last bag in the pile of garbage, and then he felt his hand curl and begin to shake. He grimaced and started messaging the inside of his palm. Anne saw him wince and grabbed his wrist.

“Are they acting up again?” she asked.

“Yeah, a little.”

When Mike looked up he saw Kalen talking to the Sturgis boy, James. They both had their hands in their pockets laughing at everything they were saying to each other.

“What’s all this about?” he asked, motioning over to Kalen.

“Well, from how much time she spends on his Facebook page I had an inkling she might like him.”

Anne put her hand on Mike’s back and then recoiled when she felt the gun tucked in his belt.

“What is that?” she asked.

Before Mike could stop her Anne lifted his shirt, then gasped and yanked it back down.

“Jesus, Mike. You brought your gun to the barbeque?”

“Keep your voice down. Yes, I did, and I want you to start carrying too.”

“Mike… We’ll be fine. Now, let’s go home before you shoot Kalen’s new boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

The conversations happening around them stopped and the only thing you could hear was the Beach Boys’ “Little Deuce Coupe” playing in the background. James looked terrified, Kalen looked mortified, and both were flushed red.

“Dad!” Kalen said.

Freddy rolled off the bench of the picnic table he was sitting on, roaring with laughter. Kalen stomped off past Mike and stormed into the house.

Ray Gears, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and white tennis shoes packed up his record player along with the Beach Boys.

“Sorry about that, Mike. Love has been known to increase the hormone levels in teenagers. At least that’s what it did to me at that age,” Ray said.

“Hi, Ray,” Anne said.

“Anne. Mike. How are you guys holding up?” Ray asked.

“We’re all right. How about you?” Mike asked.

“I’m fine, but I don’t think all this was the best idea,” Ray said.

“Why?” Anne asked.

“The cars? Cell phones? They’re all off. This isn’t just a power outage, but you already knew that didn’t you, Mike?” Ray said.

“I know,” Mike said.

“People keep saying somebody’s coming to fix this, but no one’s coming. People are happy now, but come tomorrow things will start to turn. I saw a few people stupid enough to bring some canned goods,” Ray said.

“I saw,” Mike replied.

“Look, I don’t know how much supplies you have, but now might be a good time to start thinking of teaming up.”

“We might be getting ahead of ourselves, Ray.”

“Is that why you decided to carry your 9mm tonight?

“I always carry.”

“Look, Mike, you know just as well as I do that when people start to get hungry they’re going to turn on each other, and unless you have an escape plan or a castle that can protect you you’re not going to make it out of here alive, but I guess that’s what your Jeep’s for.”

“How do you know my Jeep will run?”

“Because you’re a man who carries a gun when he knows when shit’s about to hit the fan.”

Mike and Anne watched Ray grab the rest of his vinyl and head for the dark shape of his house in the distance.

“What are you thinking?” Anne asked.

“I’m thinking Ray might be the only friend we have left when things turn bad.”

Day Three

Mike dipped the pot into the bathtub and filled it halfway. Before he went to bed last night he filled all of the tubs and sinks in the house, collecting as much of the water left in the pipes as he could. He’d gathered enough water to last them three or four days.

Mike pounded on both of his children’s bedroom doors on his way back to the kitchen.

“Wake up! Everybody downstairs. Family meeting time.”

Mike lit the gas stove and set the water to boil. Freddy trudged into the kitchen with his hair sticking straight up on one side of his head while the other lay completely flat.

Kalen came in next wearing sweat pants, her makeup from the day before, and her hair pulled in a ponytail.

“Dad, I need to take a shower. I feel disgusting,” Kalen said.

“You smell disgusting too,” Freddy said.

“Shut up, Freddy!”

“Okay, that’s enough you two,” Anne said, entering the kitchen and giving Freddy a slight pat on the bum.

“I drained all of the water in the pipes last night. No more showers for a while,” Mike said.

“Yay!” “What?” Freddy and Kalen shouted unanimously.

“Everybody sit down. We all need to talk about a few things,” Mike said.

Kalen folded her arms and dropped into the seat at the opposite end of the table where Mike sat. Anne and Freddy sat on either side of him. Mike reached for Anne’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Everything we talk about here stays with the family. Understand?” Mike said.

Freddy nodded. Kalen rolled her eyes.

“The power’s not coming back on,” Mike said.

Freddy and Kalen looked at each other, making sure they heard their father correctly.

“Why?” Freddy asked.

“What we’re experiencing isn’t a power outage. It’s the effects of an EMP burst. Anything that has a microprocessor in it is completely useless,” Mike explained.

“The whole country can’t be like this,” Kalen said.

“I think it is. If it weren’t, we would have heard from someone by now,” Mike said.

“W-what does that mean?” Freddy asked.

“We’re going to be fine,” Anne said.

“We’re going to stay here as long as we can, but we’ll probably need to head to the cabin in a few days,” Mike said.

Kalen shot up out of her chair.

“In Ohio?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mike said.

“We should leave now,” Ulysses said.

Mike hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. His father wiped some grease from his hands with a rag and threw it over his shirt.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Mike asked.

“Changing the oil in your Jeep. Want to make sure it’s good to go in case we have to leave in a hurry.”

“Why do we have to leave at all? What about James? What about school? My friends? What about my life!” Kalen screamed.

“Kalen, sit down,” Anne snapped.

Kalen dropped into her chair.

“Look, we don’t know when or how bad this is going to get, but we all need to be ready. From here on out we always walk in pairs. Freddy. Kalen. You two aren’t allowed anywhere without your mom, Grandpa, or me,” Mike said.

“Noooo.”

This time the cries of both Freddy and Kalen were unanimous.

“No exceptions,” Mike said. “We also need to keep what we have to ourselves. I don’t want people knowing about the Jeep, or our provisions in the cellar, okay?”

“Why can’t we tell anyone, Dad?” Freddy asked.

“Because we can’t help—”

Mike cut himself off. He thought back to the young man who was shot, the hospital, and the walk home. All of those moments were sacrifices of his time and energy to help people in need around him. The man looking at him with greasy hands standing in the kitchen taught him that. What was he teaching his own son now?

“We need to make sure we protect our family first. We’re a team. All of us,” Mike said.

“Yeah, and we’ll need all the food we can get with those hollow legs of yours,” Ulysses said, coming up behind Freddy and patting his grandson’s leg. Freddy giggled.

“First things first,” Mike said. “I want everyone to have an emergency bag with anything you’d want to bring with you ready and packed in case we need to get out quickly. Go.”

Freddy ran enthusiastically up the stairs. Kalen dragged herself back to her room.

“You too,” Mike said to Anne. They kissed and she walked back to their room.

Mike walked back over to the stove. The pot was boiling now. He added the hot water to a bowl of oatmeal and stirred.

“Michael,” Ulysses said.

“Dad, I can’t turn our house into the Salvation Army,” Mike said.

“You’re doing the right thing, son.”

Mike dropped the spoon back down into the mush of oats in front of him. He looked up at his father. The face he was staring at wasn’t the face of iron he remembered as a child. It was a face of understanding.

“You think so?” Mike asked.

“I do. You have to take care of your own before you take care of someone else. I know sometimes I wasn’t the best with feelings, but I was only that way because I knew I didn’t have to worry about you. You can take care of yourself. Now, you can take care of your family.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Day Four

“Don’t hold out on me, Frank, I know you have some!”

“I’m telling you, Adam, I don’t have any.”

Mike dropped the saw from the plywood he was cutting when he heard the shouts from the neighbor’s house. His tool belt hung from his waist. He pushed the side gate open from the backyard. The shouting became louder the closer he moved to the front yard.

“My whole family is starving and you’ve got enough to feed two families for a week!”

“Adam, I’m telling you I don’t have as much as you think I do. I’m just trying to keep my family going on what I have.”

Mike turned the corner and saw Adam Stahls’ red face beaming with anger. Adam’s nose was pressed against the screen door that Frank Minks was hiding behind.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Mike asked.

Adam marched toward Mike focusing his rage on a new target.

“This prick is holding out on us, Mike,” Adam said.

“Easy, Adam,” Mike said.

Mike kept his hand close to the hammer around his belt. Adam paced back and forth in the driveway.

“Where the hell are the relief efforts, huh? Why hasn’t everything turned back on? Why the fuck can’t I turn my car on and drive to the grocery store!” Adam screamed.

Adam collapsed to his hands and knees on the concrete. A few tears splashed the driveway.

“My boy said he was hungry and I can’t… I don’t have anything to give him.”

Frank came out from behind the screen door. He and Mike knelt down to Adam and helped him up.

“Frank, why don’t we go around and get a pool going for anything that can be spared. I bet we could get a little something from everyone,” Mike said.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Frank replied.

“Adam, you head back home. Frank and I will see what we can put together, okay?” Mike said.

Adam wiped the embarrassment from his eyes and nodded. Mike watched him shuffle back over to his home. Mike noticed faces peering out from behind blinds from the front windows of a few of the houses, checking out the commotion.

Anne came out the front door and joined them.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Put together some goods for the Stahls,” Mike said.

“Anne, wait,” Frank said.

He rushed back inside and came out with a few cans of peaches.

“For Adam,” Frank said.

* * *

The sun dipped below the horizon when Mike finally finished cutting the plywood. He started labeling each one: Living room. Kitchen. Bedroom. Each piece had small holes cut close to the corners that would allow them to look outside. He brought them in the house and rested each piece of plywood at its corresponding location.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked.

“For the windows. In case things get bad,” he said.

“I gave those supplies to Adam. He broke down when he saw them. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Nobody was ready for this.”

“You were.”

Anne grabbed his arm and pulled him over to her. She rested her face on his chest and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Her hair was still warm from the sun and there was still the faint scent of her shampoo, lingering under his nose.

The two of them rocked slowly back and forth. The room around them was still and quiet. The light breaking through the windows caught the swirls of dust flying around in the room.

“You know… I think I’m going to have to overrule your no shower rule,” she said.

Mike pinched her and she squealed. She threw her head back laughing.

“You smell really bad,” she said.

“Better get used to it,” he said.

“You’re a good man,” she said.

A knock from the front door interrupted their kiss. Mike lifted the back of his shirt, revealing the pistol and checked the peephole. When he saw who it was he flipped his shirt down and opened the door.

Nelson’s eyes went to his feet. His hands fidgeted awkwardly at his sides.

“It’s just. Well, I heard about what you did for Adam and I…”

“How much do you need?” Mike asked.

There wasn’t any malice in Mike’s words, no sense of mockery or “I told you so,” just a genuine concern. Nelson kept his head down.

“Just a few days’ worth. You know until all this blows over.”

“Is Sean allergic to anything?” Anne asked.

“No, but he doesn’t like Brussels sprouts,” he answered.

“Who does?” she smiled.

“Come on in,” Mike said.

Mike and Nelson sat on the couch while Anne put together a package downstairs. Mike unhooked his tool belt to get a little more comfortable and laid it next to the plywood on the floor.

“Been busy today?” Nelson asked pointing at the plywood.

“A little,” Mike said.

“You know if you’re working on any projects around the house I’d be happy to help. It’s the least I could do. I used to be a foreman before I met Katie—”

Nelson’s throat caught at the sound of his wife’s name.

“Sorry,” he said.

“How long were you a foreman?” Mike asked.

“Five years, but I was doing construction since I was eighteen. Never really thought I was the college type, so I got the first job I could after high school and just worked my way up.”

“I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t. I miss it some days, but most days I don’t. Seeing you covered from head to toe in sweat and sawdust doesn’t bring back any fond memories.”

“Yeah, I’d love to take a shower.”

“No water pressure?”

“Not anymore.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

Mike took him downstairs to the water heater and they located the water pressure regulator. Nelson took a look at the configuration of pipes, gauges, and valves spread around the basement.

“The water pressure coming into the house from outside is more powerful than most homes need, so contractors use a pressure valve to decrease the water flow coming through the pipes. If I open up the pressure on the house’s end it should squeeze out more pressure for another shower or two.”

Nelson opened the valve up and the pipes hissed and rattled from the water rushing through.

“That should give you a little modern comfort. For a while at least,” Nelson said.

“Thanks, Nelson.”

Anne met them back upstairs with a bag of canned goods: corn, peaches, green beans, and beef.

“I can’t thank you two enough,” Nelson said.

“It’s our pleasure,” Anne said.

Nelson left and Mike headed upstairs. He knocked on Kalen’s door. She cracked it open.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see if you should take the first shower, but if you’re busy…”

The door flew open and she nearly knocked him down on her way to the bathroom.

“Are you serious?” she screamed.

“Hold on. Make sure you have everything ready before you turn it on. And be quick. I’m not sure how long it’s going to last.”

“Dad, you’re amazing.”

She ran back over to him and wrapped her arms around him. When she dug her face into his chest she pulled back.

“And you smell terrible.”

“I know, so make it quick, huh? I’d like to take one too,”

“You can have my shower time, Dad!” Freddy screamed from his bedroom across the hall.

“Thanks, buddy,” Mike called.

Day Five

At least ten families crammed into the living room. Most of them stood, while a few others sat stiffly on couches and chairs. Ted Beachum stood at the front of the living room. He paced back and forth in front of his audience rubbing his hands together, searching for words.

“I think it’s safe to say that the power’s not coming back on, and nobody’s coming to help. It’s time we get organized,” Ted said.

Heads nodded in agreement with the exception of one. Ray Gears stood silent in the back corner.

“We need to pull everyone’s resources on the block and see who has what to offer. From there we’ll divide it up based on the size of each family and their needs,” Ted said.

Bessie Beachum, Ted’s wife, came up behind him. She placed her hand on his back. She was a woman who was always well groomed, meticulous about her entire appearance, but the past five days had left stray hairs sticking out and old makeup flaking off her cheeks. The tired bags under her eyes aged her and the attempt to re-apply the blush in her cheeks was the equivalent of trying to hide an ugly picture in a beautiful frame.

“There are some people in this neighborhood that had no idea that this could happen. How were we supposed to prepare for something like this? How were we supposed to know this would happen?” she asked.

“Nobody could have known,” a woman cried.

“Exactly. These are circumstances that are beyond our control, so the only way to survive now is by whatever means are necessary,” Bessie said.

“And who will decide what means to use on whom?” Ray asked.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Ray, who was leaning against the back wall of the living room with his hands in his pockets.

“The neighborhood will,” Bessie replied.

“The neighborhood?” Ray asked.

“It’s the only way we’ll survive this, Ray,” Ted said.

Ray rocked his chin in his hand, mulling the response over.

“Well, if it’s the neighborhood that’s deciding, I think we’re missing a few members aren’t we?” Ray asked.

Most of the neighbor’s faces wore looks of surprise and innocent ignorance, but out of all the faces Ray watched Bessie’s was the one that frightened him most.

“We extended the invitation for everyone to come. I can’t force everyone to be a part of this,” Bessie said.

“You can’t force people to be a part of your community of help and survival, but you can force people to give you the supplies to keep it going?” Ray asked.

The heads in the room were swiveling back and forth from Ray to Bessie. Even Ted’s face went back and forth. They were all searching for some unnamed enemy to point their fingers at, but the real enemy was their own ignorance. And they knew it.

“I’m sure that those who see someone in need will be more than willing to participate if they’re able to,” Bessie replied.

“Just like any good Samaritan would,” Ray said.

“Now, why don’t we start with everyone that’s already here?” Ted asked. “Bessie and I will head over to everyone’s house for an inventory check and see what we have, and then divide it up amongst ourselves. Then we can spread out to the other houses and see if they want to join in. Tim, we’ll start with your place.”

The crowd dispersed and headed back to their homes. Ray was the only one that didn’t go home. His feet took him to Mike’s house.

* * *

Mike smacked the last nail in place for the upstairs bedroom window. He brushed some of the plaster off the bed that had fallen from the wall and stood back to examine his work. He worried that the nails wouldn’t be strong enough to hold the plywood in place covering the windows if someone wanted to force their way in, but he did the best he could. At the very least it would give him and his family time to escape.

He gathered up his nails when he heard muffled voices coming from downstairs. When Mike walked over to the stairs, he saw Ray and Anne in the foyer below.

“It happened today? Bessie told me that it was tomorrow,” Anne said.

“Mike, we need to talk,” Ray said.

The three of them sat in the living room and were joined by Ulysses. Ray recounted what had happened at the meeting at the Beachums’.

“So, what? They’re going to try and steal our supplies if we don’t hand them over?” Anne asked.

“Everyone’s starting to feel the pressure. There were at least ten families at that meeting,” Ray said.

“They’re being driven by fear. Ray’s right; it won’t be long before they start stealing instead of asking,” Ulysses said.

With the windows sealed shut, they had lit candles to help illuminate the house. Mike looked at shadows being cast across half visible faces. Men can’t survive in the dark.

“We leave tomorrow,” Mike said.

“You got room for one more in that Jeep?” Ray asked.

“What if we don’t?” Ulysses asked.

“Relax, Ulysses. I just need to know if I should wait around or not,” Ray said.

Mike mulled it over. Ray had known about his Jeep and, to his knowledge, hadn’t told anyone else about it.

“Pack all of the food you can. Do you have a gun?” Mike asked.

“Yeah.”

“Bring it and all the ammo you have.”

After Ray had left Anne ran upstairs to gather the kids. Ulysses walked over to Mike.

“You trust that guy?” Ulysses asked.

“I’ll find out soon enough,” Mike said.

Mike made five trips from the cellar to the Jeep in the garage. He threw packs of food, ammo, and first aid kits in the back of the Jeep. He strapped everything down with a few cargo belts, checking to make sure it was secure.

He heard shouts coming from upstairs. Mike made it to the second floor and Anne was standing outside Kalen’s door with both her hands on her hips.

“Kalen Grace Grant, you open this door right now!” Anne said.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

“She’s locked herself in her room, because she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Let me talk to her. You make sure Freddy’s good to go,” Mike said.

Anne threw her hands up and walked into Freddy’s room. Mike knocked on the door.

“Kalen, open up,” Mike said.

“No! I’m not leaving.”

“C’mon, Kay, open the door. You owe me that much for the shower.”

There was a pause and then the sound of footsteps and the door unlocking.

When Mike entered, Kalen had her legs crossed sitting on top of her bed scratching the paint from her nails.

“I’m not going,” she said.

“Well, Freddy will be devastated.”

Mike ignored the eye roll, and focused on the smile instead. He sat down beside her, putting his hand on her leg.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

“It’s just not fair, Dad! Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn’t this have happened after I was dead, or at least after college? What am I supposed to do now? What am I going to do with my life? What has the past three years of high school meant if it doesn’t exist anymore? James was just starting to like me.”

Mike cringed at the sound of James’ name, so he was glad she wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t think it would help the situation.

“Kalen, we can’t control everything that happens to us. The best we can do is prepare and hope for the best.”

Her shoulders began to shake and Mike walked up behind her and she spun around into his arms, her tears soaking through his shirt.

“I’m scared, Dad.”

“We’ll be fine. I promise.”

The Night of the Fifth Day

Twelve families brought all of the canned goods and water they could find. The measly collection of their combined efforts lay scattered across the floor of the Beachums’ living room. It was enough to feed each family for another day. After that they would have nothing.

“This is everything?” Ted asked.

“That’s all we had,” Rusty said.

“We were down to our last can,” Sam replied.

“We brought more than everyone else. I just want to point that out,” Brian said.

The families were restless. Everyone’s eyes drifted from the food and supplies in the middle of the room to the faces circling it. Family members whispered in each other’s ears.

“I bet Frank has more than what he brought.”

“There’s no way they only had one can.”

“Just because they’re fat asses and don’t know how to ration we’ve got to give them our food?”

Bessie checked each house she visited from top to bottom. She spent all afternoon going door to door, scouring every cabinet, cupboard, cellar, attic, and shed to find what she could.

“I think it’s safe to say that everyone here contributed as much as they could,” Bessie said.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at Bessie.

“However, it does seem that a few of our neighbors are in a better situation than we are and aren’t matching our… generosity,” she said.

Bessie made her way over to Adam. He kept his head down and avoided looking at her the entire night. She knew that Mike had given Adam supplies.

“Adam,” she said.

Adam kept his face down. His feet shuffled awkwardly in place. He fiddled with his hands, pulling at his fingers. Bessie walked slowly to him, showing motherly concern.

“Don’t you think that Mike and his family should help the rest of us like they helped you?” Bessie asked.

“I... I don’t know,” Adam answered.

“But you’re the one who told us they gave you that basket of food. Are you saying that’s all they have?”

“I didn’t see how much they had. They just gave it to me.”

“Well, then. That settles it. If they’re able to hand out food like that on a whim then they should have enough for all of us. Now, we’ll divide up what we have here and then everyone should head home. We’ll start fresh in the morning,” Bessie said.

The families lined up and everything was rationed equally. People either received fewer goods than what they brought, or more than they were able to offer.

Bessie pulled Adam aside from the line. She brought him into the kitchen. Ted followed.

Bessie sat him down at the kitchen table and joined him. Ted stood by the stove watching both of them.

“Adam, I appreciate what you told me about the Grants. It was very helpful, but I was curious to know if they had anything else. Did they have any other provisions, any modes of transportation, any…weapons?” Bessie asked.

“I told you I never went inside. They brought everything to me.”

“Well, it’s well known that Mike has always been one to prepare for these types of things.”

“If he hadn’t given me that food my boy would still be hungry.”

“Adam, if Mike really cared about making sure your boy was okay why didn’t he come today? Wouldn’t he have tried everything he could to make sure your boy didn’t go hungry again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right he should have been here tonight,” Adam said.

Bessie watched his hands curl into fists and then pound them on the kitchen table, knocking the saltshaker to its side.

“Why the hell didn’t he come?” Adam said.

“Do you still have your brother’s guns and ammo?” she asked.

* * *

Mike loaded the 12-gauge shells into the shotgun. He checked the safety and put it in the large duffle bag he pulled from storage. Voices coming from upstairs made him freeze; he was holding a handful of 9mm shells. He threw on his holster and shoved the pistol inside.

The stairs creaked with each step up from the basement. When Mike made it to the top he could hear two voices in the foyer.

“Anne, it’s so wonderful to see you. You seem to be holding up well.”

“Thank you, Bessie. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was hoping too- Oh, hello, Mike.”

Mike watched her eyes fall to the pistol at his side. Her fake astonishment didn’t have the effect she intended.

“Do you really think it’s necessary to carry a gun around like that? I mean really, Anne, what if Freddy got a hold of one,” Bessie asked.

“What do you want, Bessie?” Mike asked.

“I’m sure you know a few of the families in the neighborhood are in a bad spot with what’s been happening. Some of us have decided to pool our resources for the benefit of the neighborhood. I wanted to see if you and Anne would like to join us.”

“Who needs help?” Anne asked.

“Well, everyone really, but there are some folks worse off than others… and a few that are better off than most.”

Mike saw her eyes land on the open basement door that Mike had left. They were only there for a moment, but Mike saw her notice it.

“I’ll run downstairs and see what I can put together,” Anne said.

“Oh, let me help you.”

“No, it’s all right. I’ll only be a minute.”

Anne slid behind Mike and left him alone with Bessie.

“It’s very kind of you to help the way you have, Mike. Not everyone is as fortunate as you are,” Bessie said.

Mike followed her to the edge of the living room. She leaned in without moving her feet from the hardwood floor of the foyer to the brown carpet of the living room.

“Redecorating?” she asked motioning to the plywood over the windows.

“Just making sure the things that belong outside stay outside,” Mike said.

Bessie backed closer to the front door when Anne returned from downstairs with a bag of goods, almost spilling over at the top.

“Oh, Anne, this is too much,” Bessie said.

“No, take it. I hope it helps with what you’re trying to do,” Anne said.

“It surely will.”

Bessie clutched the bag to her chest with both hands. Her shoes clacked against the pavement as she walked back to her home. The moon highlighted her hair along with the slight outline of her downturned mouth, furrowed brow, and creases in her forehead. She entered through her back door into the kitchen and dumped the cans from the bag, sending them clanking and rolling onto the counter tops.

Tim and Adam sat at the kitchen table. Both were emptying boxes of bullets and filling magazines. Both of them froze at the sight of the goods spilling onto the counter.

“They have all that?” Adam asked.

“That’s a fraction of what they have. They’re holding out on us and they’re boarding up their house so no one can get in. They’re creating a fortress over there,” Bessie said.

Adam shoved one of the loaded magazines into his pistol. The click brought a smile to Bessie’s face.

“We hit them in the morning,” Bessie said.

Day Six

Mike rolled out of bed. The room was pitch black. He stumbled to the bathroom tripping over one of Anne’s shoes again. His hands ran along the dresser until they wrapped around the pocket watch that his grandfather had given him. It was the only thing that still kept time in the house.

He lit a candle in the bathroom and held the clock face up to the light. 6 a.m. The watch snapped shut and he scooped some of the water in the sink into his hands, splashing it on his face. He walked back out to the bedroom, candle in hand, and let the glow fill the room.

The light hit Anne curled up under the sheets. Mike stood there staring at his wife, just like he had done for the past twenty-six years, every day, before he left for work.

The second story floorboards creaked under Mike’s steps. He tiptoed to Freddy’s room and cracked the door open. His son lay still, quiet on his bed with all of the covers thrown off and his shirt up, exposing his belly. Freddy had his mouth open and all of his limbs were extended outwards like a starfish.

When he opened the door to his daughter’s room she looked just like her mother. Curled up under the covers. The sheets rising and falling from her calm steady breath.

He stood in the center of the hallway among the three rooms. This could be the last time he watched them sleep in this house.

Pictures hung on all the walls around him. The memories came flooding back to him. The vacation to the Grand Canyon they took three summers ago. The Christmas mornings, Thanksgiving feasts, birthdays, anniversaries, all on display.

The tear he wiped from his cheeks wasn’t one of sadness for having to leave, nor fear of what was ahead. It simply represented all of the joy he felt during those moments frozen in time along the walls, and the gratefulness he felt for still being able to remember them.

Mike stepped down into the cellar to grab the guns and ammo and check for any last items he may have missed. He had the duffle bag strap on his shoulder, walked back up the stairs, and headed for the garage.

* * *

“Don’t you all want to keep your family alive?” Bessie asked.

Shouts and cheers filled Bessie’s living room. Fifteen families crowded together. Bessie stood on top of her coffee table in the center of the group, Tim standing by her side.

“We tried to come together in a civilized manner didn’t we?”

Hands clinched into fists while others wrapped tightly around baseball bats, crowbars, tire irons, pistols, and rifles.

“Most of us answered that call and for that my family, and every other family here, thanks you.”

All of the animosity they had for each other the night before had transformed to a single point of hate. A universal cry of fear and hunger rose from the crowd.

“But one family did not answer that call. One family chose to keep what they had to themselves. One family is letting you starve.”

She fed them hate.

“Your family can’t survive without the food they have. We don’t know when help is coming. Help may never come, so we have to help ourselves.”

She fed them fear.

“But you can do something about it. You can make sure your family survives. You can make sure that they all have something to eat!”

She fed them the answers they wanted to hear.

Bessie threw her hands out, calming the crowd. The cheers slowly dissipated. She stepped down from the coffee table. Tim handed her the bullhorn and she marched everyone out the front door.

* * *

Mike first heard the squeal of the bullhorn from inside the garage. He rushed to the front door; looking through the peephole he saw twenty people standing out front in the morning light. Bats, crowbars, tire irons, and rifles were poised at the ready.

“Mike, we don’t want to harm anyone. All we want you to do is the right thing. We know you have supplies and there are people out here who need them,” Bessie said.

Anne, Freddy, and Kalen rushed from their rooms and were leaning on the banister rail above Mike, listening to the words echo outside.

“Dad?” Kalen asked.

“Stay there,” Mike said.

Ulysses came out of the guest bedroom fully dressed in a long sleeve shirt, jeans, and boots. He grabbed the duffle bag off Mike’s back and set it on the floor. He pulled out the .223 rifle. The clang of metal on metal rang through the foyer when he shoved a clip in.

“How many?” Ulysses asked.

Mike clicked the safety off the shotgun.

“Around twenty, but there could be more around the house.”

Mike picked up a box of shells and slid them across the floor over to the base of the kitchen window.

“Anne, bring the kids downstairs.” Mike said.

Anne grabbed both of their children’s hands pulling them down the steps. Freddy clung to Anne’s leg all the way down.

“Dad, you take Freddy and Kalen to the Jeep. Get it ready. The moment we get a bad breach I’m going to set the house on fire.”

“What?” Anne asked.

“It will send them running and give us enough space to get away,” Mike said.

Freddy started crying hysterically now.

“Shh, it’s okay, buddy. Hey, you’re gonna be fine,” Mike said. “We’re all going to be fine.”

“C’mon, kids,” Ulysses said.

Kalen grabbed her brother’s hand and followed Ulysses into the garage.

Mike handed Anne the other shotgun and tossed her a few shells. She fumbled the first one to the ground after attempting to load it in the chamber.

“Shit,” she said.

Mike picked it up and placed it back into her hand. When she went to take it he held her hand in his and squeezed. He locked eyes with his wife. There was no fear in them. Only the stubborn will to survive.

“Take the kitchen window,” Mike said.

Anne clicked her safety off and crawled over to the opening in the plywood at the corner of the window. Mike kept his head low heading for the living room. Bessie’s voice boomed outside.

“We don’t want any bloodshed, Mike. Your family will still get their fair share of food. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” she said.

Mike put his eye up against the corner hole of the plywood, looking outside. He watched Bessie motion to a few of the people on the edges of the group. They scurried over to the sides of the house. Only one of them had a gun.

Mike hunched low as he moved to Anne, who was looking out her corner of the kitchen window through the hole in the plywood.

“A few broke off and went to the sides of the house. I’m going to head to the back.”

He leaned in and kissed her. The moment had his adrenaline pumping. He felt like he could smash through the walls if he needed to, but even with all of that, his lips still hit hers with tenderness.

“I love you,” Anne said.

“I love you, too.”

At the back of the house Mike peered through one of the plywood holes giving him a view of his backyard. He saw the barrel of a gun peek around the back corner of the house. The hand and arm came next, followed by the face.

Adam Stahl.

* * *

Nelson came running out of his house, his slippers nearly flying off his feet and his robe flapping in the wind.

“Bessie? What’s… What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nelson, go home. This will be over soon,” she said.

“But, what are you doing? Where’s Mike? Mike!”

“Quiet!”

“Mike! Are you okay?”

Bessie pulled a revolver from her side and shoved the barrel into Nelson’s face. Nelson threw his hands in the air and slowly backed away from her.

“Go home, Nelson. Now,” she said.

Nelson ran back to his house. Bessie pulled the bullhorn back to her mouth.

“You have sixty seconds, Mike. If you don’t come out by then, we’re coming in.”

A gunshot rang out. People ducked for cover, hiding behind cars, mailboxes, bushes, anything close that they could jump behind.

The bullhorn and pistol that Bessie held dropped to the ground, followed by her knees, and then her chest and face hit the grass of the front yard.

“Bessie?” Tim asked.

Tim rushed to his wife. Her mouth was spilling blood. She coughed and hacked, spitting it all over his shirt. She grabbed Tim’s shirt desperately, wrenching his collar.

A few final coughs of blood and her hand slowly let go. Tim snatched it up before it fell to the ground.

Tim rocked her back and forth. He brought her lifeless body up to his chest. Both of their bodies shook, but he was the source of the shaking. He laid her gently back down and kissed her forehead. He looked up at the house. His face distorted from grief and pain to anger. He picked up the revolver from the ground and cocked the hammer back. The shrill screams of his voice silenced by unloading the entire .45 revolver into Mike’s front door.

* * *

When the first gunshot went off, Mike watched Adam duck for cover. He took the opportunity to run back to the front of the house.

Anne had her shotgun through the plywood’s hole and blasted through the glass. She pumped the shotgun sending an empty shell flying to the floor and squeezed the trigger again, the recoil from the blast knocking her shoulder into the chair behind her.

“You all right?” Mike asked.

“Somebody shot, Bessie,” Anne answered.

“What?”

Anne scooted out of the way to let Mike get a look outside. He could see Bessie’s lifeless body sprawled across the lawn.

A few bullets came splintering through the plywood and into the kitchen. Mike threw his body over Anne’s until the firing stopped, then aimed his shotgun through the window and squeezed the trigger, sending a dozen steel balls through James Sturgis’ chest.

Mike pumped the shotgun and reloaded the chamber. He scanned the yard. He saw a few people hunched behind a car on the side of the street. He saw the pistols in their hands. He took aim and fired.

The blast from the shotgun shell shattered the car’s windows and peppered the metal on the side doors.

“Anne! Get to the Jeep, now!” Mike screamed.

Anne nodded and ran, keeping herself low, through the kitchen into the garage. The front door thumped loud and Mike could hear the wood starting to crack.

* * *

Ray watched the crowd around Mike’s house scatter with the exception of a few after he sent the bullet into Bessie’s back. He sat hunched behind a car on the other side of the street behind everyone. He re-racked the bolt-action rifle watching Tim make a beeline for Mike’s front door.

Ray adjusted the pack on his back and headed up the street, keeping low and out of sight behind the cars parked on the curb.

* * *

“Grandpa!” Freddy screamed.

“Just stay down!” Ulysses said.

The gunshots outside echoed loud from inside the garage. When Anne rushed inside she saw Freddy covering his ears and Kalen holding him tight.

“Where’s Mike?” Ulysses said.

“He’s coming.”

* * *

Mike splashed the gasoline all over the basement. He poured it on the walls, the floor, the couches, shelves, everywhere. He threw the can in the center of the room and backed up all the way to the stairs. He pulled a match from his pocket.

The head of the match scratched across the box and ignited into a tiny, yellow flame. Mike tossed it on the ground and watched the fire spread in a red glow around the basement.

He rushed up the basement stairs and down the hallway to the kitchen where the garage entrance was. Smoke rose from the basement, chasing him. He turned the corner into the kitchen when the front door finally gave way and Tim burst inside.

Before Mike could get a shot off Tim threw his pistol at him, sending the gun ricocheting off Mike’s shotgun. It gave Tim just enough time to fly into Mike, slamming him into the wall.

Tim sent his fists into Mike’s ribs. Mike doubled over with each vicious blow.

Mike grabbed the butt of the shotgun and smacked it into Tim’s head, relinquishing the assault on himself. Mike’s fist landed against Tim’s jaw. Tim countered with a left cross. Mike blocked it. Tim grabbed Mike’s head with both hands, and then head butted him. Blood spurted from Mike’s nose and he fell to his knees.

Tim came up behind Mike and put him in a headlock. Tim’s muscles ripped through his arms, squeezing Mike’s neck, choking the life out of him.

Mike stretched out his arms trying to free himself, gasping for breath. The smoke from the basement was getting heavy now. The flames had crawled their way into the halls and were marching down toward the front of the house where the two men were.

“You kill my wife and think you can get away with it?” Tim asked.

* * *

The smoke had filtered into the garage. Ulysses looked at Anne and then reached for the keys in the ignition. Anne’s hand jolted forward to stop him.

“Wait!”

“Anne, we have to go now.”

She looked at Freddy and Kalen in the back seat; both of whom were coughing from the smoke filling the garage. She let go of Ulysses’ hand and he started the engine.

Ulysses pumped the gas pedal a few times before the engine roared to life. Anne reached up to pull the cord above them that sent the garage door flying open and Ulysses slammed on the gas.

The Jeep tore out of the driveway and into the street. The crowds around the house had scattered and Anne looked behind her watching the smoke rising from all of the windows of the house into the night sky.

They were almost to the end of the street when Ray popped out from behind one of the parked cars. He held both hands in the air, one clutching a rifle in his right hand.

Ulysses slammed on the brakes, coming inches from hitting him.

“Thought I’d offer my services,” Ray said, running to the side of the Jeep.

Ulysses shook his head at Anne, but she unlocked the door and he climbed in the back seat with the kids. Ulysses jammed the shifter back into first, hit the clutch and took off down the road.

* * *

Mike gasped for breath. He squirmed, thrashed, and elbowed Tim in the ribs, but nothing would loosen his grip.

The world around him was beginning to fade. He could feel the heat from the flames burning his flesh. He caught a glimpse of a picture of his family through the flames, the fire swallowing them up and crumpling the photo into ash and smoke.

The pop that he heard sounded distant and faint when Mike’s head hit the floor. The blackness started to clear a little. He felt a hand on the back of his shirt pulling him backwards. He could see the damage of the fire more clearly than before. The fire danced along the walls. The floor above the stairs collapsed sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Then he saw blood dripping from the side of Tim’s head and watched his body catch fire.

Night of Day 6

The heat was the first thing Mike felt. He was sweating profusely. He threw the covers off him and caught a glimpse of the bandage on his arm. He jerked his head up to get a better look, but fell back down on the pillow. He placed his fingers gently onto his temple and felt the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Thank God. You’re awake.”

Nelson came in and set a tray down on the nightstand next to the bed. Mike watched him examine the bandages.

“Looks like they’re in need of a fresh wrap,” Nelson said.

“W-what? Where’s Anne? Where are Freddy and Kalen? Where’s my—”

Nelson pushed him back down when Mike started to rise. Mike tried to resist, but was too weak.

“You need to rest. I was barely able to pull you out of the fire,” Nelson replied. “Here drink some of this.”

Nelson tilted a glass to Mike’s lips and he drank thirstily. The water spilled, hitting his chin and rolling onto his chest. Nelson pulled the glass back and rested it on the table.

“What happened?” Mike said.

“When I heard the gunshots I took Sean down to the cellar. When I saw the smoke coming from your house I ran over. By the time I got over there the whole place was on fire. The front door was knocked down and I could see you and Tim on the floor. At first I thought the two of you were both unconscious, but then I saw Tim choking. There was a pistol on the ground and I picked it up. When I got to the door I—”

His throat caught.

“I killed Tim and dragged you out of there,” Nelson finished.

Mike watched Nelson close his eyes and take a few breaths before he looked at him again.

“Did you see my family get out?” Mike asked.

“No, but I heard a few people talk about it today. Most everybody left after what happened, but a few stuck around. I think a lot of people were afraid the fire would spread to the other houses, but it just collapsed on itself.”

Nelson saw the stab of pain shoot through Mike’s face.

“Sorry.”

But Mike wasn’t thinking about the house. He forced himself upright and swung his legs to the side of the bed.

“I have to get to Ohio,” Mike said.

“Whoa, no, you need to rest. I think you have a concussion.”

“Tim didn’t hit me that hard.”

Mike rose to his feet and then immediately fell back down on the bed. He felt dizzy. He clutched the sheets into a ball-sized fist on the bed, trying to anchor himself down.

“Look whatever it is you want to do there’s no way you’ll survive the trip in your current state. You need to rest, at least for tonight.”

Mike eyed the tray on the nightstand. There was fresh gauze and an unopened can of peaches. It was one of the same cans Mike had given him a few days ago. He picked it up and rolled it in his hands.

“Hey, I’m just repaying a favor,” Nelson said.

* * *

When Mike walked out in the afternoon heat the next day and took a look at the smoldering wreckage of his house he wasn’t sure what to expect. The roof and second floor had completely disintegrated. Only pieces of the couch, kitchen, and garage remained intact.

He sifted through some of the ashes looking for anything that was salvageable. He looked for any food, tools, or ammo left behind that would still be useful, but had no luck. The one thing he really wanted to find though was a picture. He had hoped at least one of them survived. They didn’t.

“Find anything?” Nelson asked upon his return.

“No, but we need to get moving. It’ll take us three days to make it to the cabin.”

“We?”

“There’s nothing left here, Nelson. If you and Sean stay you’ll starve to death, or be killed by the next gang of raiders that comes through here.”

“You think we can make it?”

Mike closed his eyes and thought of the last glimpse of his wife. He could feel her lips on his and the whisper of “I love you.” He saw his children lying in their beds, sleeping with the morning light cascading into their rooms.

“We’ll make it.”

Copyright

Copyright 2014

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

Content

James Hunt
BROKEN LINES
A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

The Steel Mill

The Streets

Hospital

The Highway

Home

The Second Day

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

The Night of the Fifth Day

Day Six

Night of Day 6

Copyright