End Days Super Boxset (172 page)

On the morning of September 21, 2020, the power went out across the state of Georgia and possibly across the entire nation in a matter of seconds. Nothing was clear to anyone in those immediate few short minutes of absolute frustration and anger. When technological devices didn't work the way they should, patience was a virtue shown only by a few. And when the loss of power, communications, and mobility occurred systematically without warning, the chances of maintaining order would grow slimmer by the day. The residents of Georgia hadn't a clue of what had caused the massive statewide blackout.

It couldn't have been a storm. Morning temperatures were nearing the nineties, and there were few clouds in the sky. A downed power line, blown transformer, or even an entire power grid shut down still wouldn't explain the loss of cell phone, smartphone, tablet, or computer accessibility. It wouldn't explain vehicles of all makes and models suddenly stopping mid-travel, unable to restart. It wouldn't explain the sudden uselessness of any device with a simple electronic component. Even more confusing, some devices, such as antique cars and older electronics, still operated, and they became hot commodities overall.

On the first day, those sitting in their living rooms suddenly without power, behind the wheel, or working at their office desks, staring into blank screens, were in an abject state of denial. Others, who made the connection, correctly attributed the effects to an aerial nuclear strike. Not the type of attack that vaporizes mass populations, but something that couldn't be seen or felt. These “others” attributed the catastrophic scenario before them as the effects of an electromagnetic pulse, an EMP.

A certain theory was that several nuclear high-altitude electromagnetic pulse warheads, known as HEMP devices, had been detonated hundreds of kilometers above their towns and cities. The goal of such an attack seemed to be the final push toward the collapse of a society already on the brink, as indicated by the civil unrest that existed at the time. By 2020, there was little concept of what constituted the “worst” of times. People had been told for so long that things were getting better, and when things didn't, they were then told that “better” simply meant as good as it gets; meaning that things were not going to improve, but they were probably not going to get any worse.

Though these semantics had little meaning to those living paycheck to paycheck, and despite the high costs of basic necessities, the status quo remained and the new way of governance—massive dependency—soon become the only way. There were those, of course, who were unaffected by everything. There were also those apathetic, or oblivious, to anything occurring outside their personal bubbles. And then there were those who simply didn't care. Through the years, however, a growing movement that leaned toward self-sufficiency and preparation had been growing at an astounding rate.

These were the people, “the preppers,” who chose to plan and prepare for what they saw as an inevitable breakdown. They were individuals with families—husbands, wives, and children—who desired to remain strong and united in times of peril. Above all, they just wished to survive the times they lived in with independent, resourceful living, and basic know-how. Despite the differences in thinking among all different types of people throughout the United States, everyone would be affected equally on September 22. In a matter of seconds, they would be without solace from the devices they had been accustomed to rely on.

Monday, September 21, 2020, 9:05 a.m., Columbus, Georgia

The unimaginable happened at the North Highlands Hydroelectric Plant on a day of the week when no one expected anything more challenging than figuring out what to eat for lunch. Todd Broderick, a plant supervisor, was standing by a series of large 1,000-megawatt generators, wearing his protective red headphones and hard hat, when his attention was drawn to something out of the ordinary. A technician had called out to him from across the room, pointing out that the generators were no longer operational. An hour later, as far as everyone could tell, every generator and transformer in the entire plant had wound down to a dead silence. Todd ran to his office to contact the authorities and subsequently retrieve his smartphone. He soon noticed that his holographic computer screen was blank. Everything seemed consistent with a blackout until he retrieved his thin iPhone and noticed it was dead as well. It was nothing particularly alarming, but strange nonetheless. But by the time Todd had exited the plant to start his car, he noticed that the power outage was anything but routine. His failed attempts to start his four-door Suzuki XL7 were most troubling of all. Then the pieces began to fall into place.

Todd had been briefed on the scenario that was unraveling before him multiple times. What he was experiencing seemed evident: it was the aftermath of an EMP. Todd wondered how such a thing was possible. He worked at a hydroelectric plant, which should have been immune. He struggled to remember any precautionary measures that had been taken to prevent the effects of an EMP on the plant.

Whatever precautions they
did
take weren't enough to prevent a total shutdown in the event of an EMP attack. Todd marched back inside the plant, past the confused security guards at the entry doors, and tried to take some control over the situation. The floor manager was nowhere to be found; Todd hadn't seen him all day. Employees scurried up and down stairs in haste, trying to contain the power outage. No one, it seemed, had any idea what to do, though they had been trained for such a scenario in the past.

In the event of a massive loss of generator power or transformer voltage, the emergency backup generators were to be employed. Most technicians on the ground were attempting to locate those generators as well as monitor the conductivity or output of the voltage boxes. Their efforts were aimed at the restoration of power to thousands of Georgia residents. On one of the hottest days of the year, the lack of power presented an entirely new threat that could already be felt within the walls of the fifty-year-old plant.

Todd grabbed a battery-operated megaphone from a nearby storage closet and walked out on the main floor. He pulled the trigger back and was pleased to hear the device working.

“Attention, first-line technicians, I believe that we need to enact protocols in reaction to an EMP strike. I'm sure most of you are aware of what an EMP device can do, and I believe this plant has been compromised, which means we need to get power reserves back on-line ASAP and properly notify the authorities.”

As Todd continued, his boss, Mr. Patterson, came up from behind and grabbed the megaphone out of his hands, causing Todd to turn and look at him angrily. Recognizing his boss, he took a step back.

“I've been looking everywhere for you; we have a huge crisis on our hands,” Todd said.

“I'm well aware of what's going on, Mr. Broderick. What do you think I've been doing the past five minutes, playing solitaire in my office?”

“Well, no, I mean, I went to your office and—”

“That's quite enough. Yes, you're right to alert our employees on the proper protocol, but the last thing we want to do is provide mixed signals.”

Mr. Patterson was a large bulky man, about twice the size of Todd, with patches of dark hair concealing his patterned balding. He pulled a pamphlet from his pocket and held the megaphone to his mouth. The employees looked to him in anticipation of instructions to come.

“As Mr. Broderick stated, we need to enact protocol in the aftermath of an EMP immediately. At this time, we have no hard evidence to confirm such an attack. We do know that many of our technicians have been working hard to restore the generators. So far they have had little success in doing so. Whatever we do, I want to advise against panic. Power
will
be restored and we
will
get the grid back on-line very soon. I just need everyone patient and cooperative. Please work together to find a solution to this crisis. I want a status in no more than ten minutes.”

Todd thought it odd that Mr. Patterson offered no clear specifics beyond simple optimism. Did he remember any more than Todd about how to handle the aftermath of an EMP? Perhaps a face-to-face would help.

“Mr. Patterson,” Todd said.

Patterson looked at him, almost in a daze, and handed him back the megaphone. “Yes, what is it?”

“Do you really think we can get this place back on-line?”

Patterson thought for a moment then leaned in closer. “We have to try. Worst-case scenario is that we have to replace every transformer in the plant. Even worse, every generator. We're talking millions of dollars here. Then there's the logistics of transporting them from the warehouse in Washington to here. The entire process...well, it could take months.”

Todd looked at Mr. Patterson, hoping for more information, surprised that his boss seemed to grasp only a general idea of things to come.

“Months?” Todd asked.

“Yes, that's why we have to pray that those backup generators work.”

“I don't understand, Mr. Broderick. Had this plant no foolproof method to deal with EMPs? I know that we've discussed them and set up drills and all the like, but they've also told us that hydroelectric plants have a very low likelihood of being compromised by EMPs. In fact, I remember at one point, we were told we had the lowest probability of being affected by an EMP than any other type of plant.”

Patterson jammed a stick of gum in his mouth and chewed ferociously. “Don't know what to tell you, Todd. Could be more than just an EMP.”

“There are several different pulse types we could be dealing with. If we're looking at an E1 pulse, for instance, it probably blew the voltages on all of our generators.” Todd began to pace as some of the general information about EMPs came back to him. He recalled an instance, about two years ago, when preventative measures were discussed but not implemented.

“Why didn't the plant invest in those surge protectors?” he asked point-blank.

“What are you talking about?” Patterson asked, chewing wildly.

“I'm taking about the fast-acting surge protectors. The ones that could have prevented this?”

Patterson rubbed his eyes, annoyed with Todd’s tone.

“Look, let's just stay on track here. I need these generators running. If the fuses are blown we replace them.”

Todd raised his voice to a near shout. “If the fuses are blown, then we're going to have to replace everything. How long is that going to take, a month?”

Patterson narrowed his eyes at Todd and spoke calmly with his finger pointing in the air. “You're the plant supervisor. Get these technicians organized and get them working. I'll need a full report on our status in the next ten minutes so I can inform the city council.”

Todd was going to ask him how he planned to make any phone calls, since communications had been disabled, but he hesitated and decided against it. “I'll do what I can, sir,” he said. It was no time to escalate an argument.

“That's good to hear,” Patterson said, turning away.

“Mr. Patterson!” Johnson, one of the plant technicians, ran up to them pressing down on his hard hat so it wouldn’t fall off. He seemed stricken with fear and anxiety. “Mr. Patterson, we've got a problem.”

“Take a breath, Johnson, and calm down. What's the situation?” Patterson asked.

“The backup generators are inoperable. Every transformer we've inspected so far has been blown out. It's—it's like whoever did this scored a direct hit.”

Todd and Patterson looked at Johnson as he took a few steady breaths. Then he continued. “The plant is dead.” For a moment, the three of them stood there not saying a word as the technicians scrambled to make sense of it all.

“Continued electrical supply is necessary for sustaining water supplies, production and distribution of food, fuel, and everything else that is a part of our economy.” —EMP Commission Report, April 2008

In a time of crisis, people would often band together for the common good. Even in the most harrowing moments, history had shown how people from all walks of life could unite for a common good. But in 2020, even before the mysterious power outage, there was the question of just how
possible this was anymore. Even so, most people affected throughout Georgia didn't immediately panic. The majority of them, though confused, were naturally inclined to be courteous and friendly to each other. A small minority, on the other hand—mostly young delinquents—chose to take immediate advantage of the situation through random vandalism and looting. In the days that followed, people were generally calm due to the initial shock of the event. But the longer people had to wait for normalcy to return, the more difficult things would become.

Emergency personnel and public services throughout Georgia scrambled to offer aid to those who needed it and found themselves quickly overwhelmed. Police, firefighters, paramedics, and military personnel were severely limited after most of their vehicles and communications didn't work, though the National Guard, ironically due to large budget cuts, primarily used vehicles that dated back to the 1970s. Such vehicles seemed impervious to the attacks. Hospitals, schools, courthouses, and prisons struggled to maintain operations after massive power grid failures. A growing fear of a wide-ranging breakdown of services occurred as a result.

In Milledgeville, Georgia—outside Savannah—lived James Cook, a solitary man who taught history at the local Georgia College & State University, mainly referred to as GU. James was a former marine and Gulf War veteran now in his early fifties. He was recently divorced and had one son who lived in California with his own family. James liked using his hands. He loved the outdoors. It was where he truly felt at home. When not teaching, he spent most of his time outside clearing land for gardens and livestock on a seven-acre piece of property he had purchased some years prior.

He lived in a four-bedroom house completely furnished and stocked with canned and pickled food, hygienic and medical supplies, and all sorts of items with extended shelf lives. The house itself ran on electricity. But in the event of a power outage, he had other methods in place such as small windmills, solar panels, fuel-powered generators, and twenty-four volt batteries. The generators were stored in a shed with a stockpile of fuel reserves he changed out regularly. He also used well water. It was the kind of house that ran independently from the outside world. This was its precise purpose.

James was part of a survivalist support group that had met online and formed as a result of the present troubling times and fears for the future. They shared similar concerns and regularly communicated on the Internet through a prepper chat room. In addition to James, there was a young couple, Mark and Janice Moss, who lived in Savannah, and the Robinsons, an African American family from Atlanta. The Robinson family consisted of Terrance, Christina, and their three teenage children, Richie, Tobias, and Paula. After discovering the house, James offered the Mosses and the Robinsons an investment opportunity.

He would move out of his apartment in Milledgeville and into the house for good. Its remote location was ideal for its operation as a “bug-out,” or “safe house,” operating as a rally point in the event of a major disaster, terrorist attack, or national emergency. James would regularly maintain the premises, both inside and out to ensure that it had well over a few months of sustainability of food, power, and water. They would live at the house in the event that they had to flee the cities they lived in. And they all felt that the day would soon come.

When everything stopped the morning of September 21, each member of the prepper pact was beginning his day, only to find that power, communications, and mobility had been effectively dismantled in the blink of an eye. James was in the middle of his morning lecture on American Civil War history when his class was interrupted by the blackout. Many of his students panicked as their accessory devices—laptops, smartphones—no longer worked. James had no choice but to dismiss his class while warning them to be careful and to go straight to their homes if they could. He believed the strange occurrence to be caused by an EMP attack, almost without question.

In Savannah, Mark, a car salesman, was in the middle of having coffee with his boss, Mrs. Andrews, when the power went out in a local Barnie's. They walked outside to be met by a sea of motionless cars stranded on the busy road. And when they tried their own cars, they fared no better. Mark had suspicions, but couldn't quite believe that he was actually witnessing the aftermath of an EMP strike. Janice, Mark's wife, was just arriving at the temp agency she worked at when the overhead lights above her desk went out, along with her computer and smartphone.

A line of frustrated applicants looked to her for answers, demanding that her agency stick to their appointments regardless of the power issues. Janice, who was only vaguely aware of EMPs, didn't know exactly what to think of everything. She knew, however, that whatever had occurred was not routine or insignificant. When it seemed as if the power wasn't going to come back on, she went to her car in the parking lot. When it failed to start, she decided to hang around the building and wait as everyone else did.

That morning, Terrance Robinson was on I-75 in Atlanta morning rush-hour traffic, behind the wheel of his semitruck to pick up a haul in South Carolina. Without warning, a flash occurred in the sky, and the engine of his eighty-thousand-pound eighteen-wheeler simply died. There was no starting it. Terrance noticed that every other vehicle on the highway had slowed to a halt as well. Things became particularly interesting as he witnessed drivers and passengers alike exiting vehicles, popping their hoods, and examining their engines in utter confusion.

Terrance didn't have to look at his engine to know the problem. Whatever had disabled his truck had done so to every car on the road. It was no coincidence. There were no coincidences as far as he was concerned. He was fairly certain that Atlanta had just been hit with an EMP. His instincts told him so. And with his instincts came action.

He abandoned his truck on the highway and began the five-mile journey back home. There, waiting for him, was his bug-out van, though he had no clue whether it would even start. It had never been truly tested, and all the theories about older vehicles manufactured in the late seventies being immune to an EMP could have been completely false as far as he knew. He trudged home anyway, hoping to find his wife and get his kids from school before Atlanta descended into chaos.

At 9:30 in the morning, Christina, Terrance's wife, was about to go to work at the Dollar Store, only to find that her 1996 two-door red Chrysler LeBaron wouldn't start. She returned inside to see that they had no power. Her phone was dead. She did, however, have a handheld radio that still functioned. It was an old bulky piece of plastic. Terrance had insisted every member of the family carry one. The radios were wrapped in aluminum foil and placed in Ziploc bags to protect them against magnetic pulses. They were embarrassing devices to carry around, even when hidden. They were also suspicious looking, especially for African American kids to carry around.

They eventually reunited after Terrance's exhausting five-mile walk home. Then it was time to work together and decide what to do in the midst of the major blackout. There was the bug-out van, and there was the bug-out house. Should they leave Atlanta? How much time did they have before things got worse? Or was it nothing but a temporary glitch in the entire system? Terrance and Christina didn't want to uproot their lives and flee, but they didn't want to stick until it was too late to escape either. It was a hard decision, and they were sure that their children would be less than enthused about staying in Milledgeville for a few weeks.

“Are we going to run, or are we going to stay?” Christina asked Terrance.

“You make it sound like a retreat,” Terrance responded.

“We're not soldiers, we're a family, and I just want to do what's best for us. That's all I'm asking.”

Terrance thought to himself for a moment. “I say we get the kids, pack tonight, and go to Milledgeville.”

“Then that's what we'll do,” Christina said. She wanted Terrance to be decisive at that moment. Whatever he had answered, she was going to be supportive. Terrance then had to face what he had been putting off: starting the bug-out van. Miraculously it worked, and they began their journey to retrieve their kids from school and get to Milledgeville without drawing attention to themselves and their van—one of the few operational vehicles on the road in a city of five hundred thousand agitated and restless people.

Each member of the prepper pact had been taken by surprise on the morning of September 21, but their instincts pushed them toward action. They had many of the same ethics, but approached planning and preparation in different ways. In a sense, each brought unique traits to the group as a whole.

James was skilled at hunting, building things, and possessed a mastery of the outdoors. Mark and Janice shared a combined financial sense, living comfortably within limited means. They knew how to barter and trade, knew the importance of having cash on hand, as well how to invest wisely. Though they both could probably have been bankers, they weren't. But their financial advice was a great asset to the prepper pact.

Terrance possessed advanced mechanical skills from his years of having worked on cars since he was a child. He also knew how to read a map and navigate without the aid of modern technology. His sense of direction was impeccable.

Christina, above all, was the weapons expert of the group. She had stocked up on several different kinds of weapons, from pistols to shotguns to rifles, and she knew of the most practical models, best ammunition types, and most affordable manufacturers. Her gun smarts were no greater than those of any advanced weapons enthusiast, but to the prepper pact, her knowledge was invaluable. As a marine, James also knew a thing or two about weapons himself.

The Robinson kids—Richie, Tobias, and Paula—were skeptical of their parents’ interests and of their new friends. They didn't get it any more than most teenagers would. Who would expect them to? Retrieving them from school and going to Milledgeville was going to be a challenge in itself. Terrance and Christina were ready to leave now. The bug-out van took off down the empty street of their dilapidated neighborhood, and they weren't coming back without their children, despite whatever stood in the way.