End Days Super Boxset (173 page)

Monday, September 21, 2020, 2:35 p.m., Atlanta, Georgi
a

Terrance drove cautiously, avoiding the stares and waves of those walking along the road through his neighborhood. Their blue 1977 GMC Chevrolet van stuck out like a zeppelin roaming the streets. Its engine was also considerably loud and could be heard for miles.

“Should we be worried?” Christina asked. She glanced nervously out the window while clutching the armrest of the front passenger seat. The van had four windows: the driver's side, passenger’s side, and two on the back doors. It was hard for anyone outside to really see in, which made the van seem safer. The windows were up and the doors locked, but still Christina felt anxious. In her lap, she cradled a loaded snub-nose .38 Special. Terrance looked over and noticed the weapon gleaming in the sunlight.

“You better keep that thing out of sight. You know we're about to go into a school, right?” Terrance believed in precautions and trusted people even less than Christina, but bringing a loaded weapon even near a school made him uncomfortable.

“Relax, big daddy, I know how to use it. And if you think I'm foolish enough to ride around Atlanta after an EMP with no gun, then you're as dense as they come.”

Terrance didn't respond, but instead he kept his eyes on the road. Paula's middle school was first on their list, even though it was farther than the boys’ high school. They couldn't reach her through the radio, as she had either turned hers off or had forgotten to bring it to school altogether. They had managed to get in touch with Richie and Tobias through the handheld radio that Tobias, their younger boy, had on him. Terrance told them to stay together and wait by the football field until Terrance and Christina arrived. Their plan was a simple one: get the kids and bring them home. But it was no ordinary day, and “easy” or “convenient” just wasn't in the cards.

They were about five miles from Paula’s school, Crescent Valley Middle School. They had weaved around nearly twenty incapacitated cars along the way and realized an extra danger in having a van. Not only was it big and noticeable, but it seemed as though every wanderer on the road assumed there was plenty of room inside for them.

“Hey, man, let me get on that bus! Come on, man!” an eager young man dressed in all red shouted from the side of the road. He ran and jumped out in front of the van, causing Terrance to jerk the wheel to the side, avoiding the man by mere inches. Christina could feel her heart stop. What she wouldn't have done for a cigarette, and the day hadn't even started. It was their closest call yet, marking the first time that someone had actively tried to block their way and stop them. They both knew that soon it would get much worse. Fortunately, Paula’s school was only a few miles away.

“Did you try the radio again and see if she's there?” Terrance asked.

“I told you, she doesn't have it on her. I know that child,” she answered, leaning over toward the van radio. She fiddled with the buttons trying to find a station but couldn't even hear static.

“I could never get the radio in this thing working,” Terrance said, taking notice.

“Just checking. It'd be nice to hear what they're saying on the news.”

“They probably don't even know what to say,” Terrance said.

“Of course they know. Someone always knows. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

After navigating through side streets, they got back on the main road and passed a group of teenagers moving down the sidewalk with their smartphones in the air, desperately trying to get them to work. The middle school was right up the street. Christina wondered if the students had been released early. The thought worried her. The van approached the school entrance, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The school faculty parking lot was full. It looked like a normal school day. No other children were roaming the premises, and it was quiet. At the end of the drop-off ramp was the front office. It was dark inside the building, but movement could be seen as their van approached.

Near the administrator building were lines of brick buildings with arched, teal-colored metal roofs. A chain link fence enclosed the buildings with only a single entrance and exit in the front. The faculty parking lot to the side of the school was nearly full, and not a soul roamed its premises. Everything looked oddly serene, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. But indeed it was; the school administrators were simply in denial that this was anything beyond a temporary power outage. Terrance pulled the van to the curb by the front office. His hand hovered over the ignition switch, and he hesitated.

“I don't think I should to shut off the engine.”

Christina gave him a curious look as she reached for the door handle. “Maybe you should just wait here van while I go get Paula.”

“Maybe I will,” Terrance said.

“Well, good,” Christina replied. The van door squeaked as she opened it.

“Good then,” Terrance said back. “Glad we're on the same page.”

“We are,”

“Go get Paula then.”

“I am!”

“Good.”

Christina stepped out of the van and began walking toward the red administrator building.

She pushed through the glass double doors and entered the darkened waiting room. She walked over a rug displaying an embroidered emblem of a sun rising over a crescent valley. A receptionist desk with high walls was ahead, but it was hard to see if anyone was sitting behind it. To her right, at the far corner of the room, was a hallway with offices. Christina heard several voices talking over each other from one of the rooms. The voices discussed the power outage and sudden lack of communications. She moved closer to the hallway and tried to listen.

“We're talking about a major shutdown here. But if this is a wide-ranging issue throughout Atlanta, I would suggest that the kids are probably better off here. We can't simply release them.”

“Can I help you?” a woman said to Christina, calling from the receptionist desk.

Startled, Christina turned to her. “Yes,” she answered. “My name is Christina Robinson. I'm here to pick up my daughter for a dental appointment.” The woman's hair was pinned back in a bun. She wore a pearl necklace and a blazer and sat upright with her arms folded over her desk, looking agitated. The computer at her desk was off.

The woman gave a slight smile. “Yes, we can certainly help you with that. What is your daughter's name?” she asked.

“Her name is Paula Robinson. She's in the eighth grade.”

The woman nodded and instinctively picked up a walkie-talkie next to her. She pressed the button and began to speak. “Mr. Wallace, we need to locate a student whose parent has arrived—” Suddenly, she stopped and set the walkie-talkie back down in a manner of defeat. “I keep forgetting that this is broken. I don't know what's going on.”

“I'm not sure,” Christina answered. “I just hope that whatever it is, it's only temporary.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, can I see some form of identification, please?” the woman interrupted.

“Yes, of course,” Christina said, searching her purse. It made her feel a little better that the school verified who came and picked up the kids, even though it was slightly strange to have to prove that she was Paula's mother. She handed the woman her driver's license. The woman gave it a quick look and handed it back.

The receptionist was about to elaborate on school visitor policy, when suddenly a portly silver-haired administrator wearing a badge on a long-sleeved dress shirt entered the room with a walkie-talkie in hand.

“Mr. Wallace,” the receptionist said with relief. “I've been trying to get you on the radio.”

“Well, Deborah, as you know, nothing is really working at the moment,” he replied. He almost walked past them, but the receptionist held out her arm to stop him.

“We need to locate a student. Her mother is here to pick her up for a dentist appointment.”

Mr. Wallace stopped, slightly annoyed, and looked to Christina. “What's the child's name and grade?” he asked.

“Her name is Paula Robinson. She's in the eighth grade,” the receptionist said, accidentally talking over Christina.

“OK,” Mr. Wallace said, scratching his chin. “Shouldn't be too hard to track down. I'll be back in a moment.” Before Christina could say anything, he turned away and went back down the hallway from where he came.

“He'll find her,” Deborah said, going back to her desk.

Christina paced the room in anticipation. She moved back toward the hallway where the heated discussion was taking place earlier and listened.

“Principal Leeland,” a woman said, “communications with the school board are nil. We have to make a decision on what to do from here. Teachers are having a hard time keeping students focused. There's no power. Their computers don't work. Eighty percent of the teachers use computers to conduct class.”

“We're going to follow protocol on this one,” another voice answered. “We keep the students here until further notice. What do you expect me to do, open the gates and let them roam around town? I'd lose my job in a second.”

Christina inched closer to the hall, within earshot of the door.

“I think it's a terrorist attack,” someone else interjected.

“We're not going to start a panic around here based on what it
could
be. We wait. Classes continue the best they can for the time being.”

“What about the cafeteria? Without power, they can't—”

“One thing at a time. Let's just try to get control of this situation.”

“Mr. Wallace reported that some kids already fled the premises. They ran out the gate before he could get to them.”

“That's what we need to be concerned with. I want all exits guarded. If I have to initiate a lockdown, I won't hesitate.”

Christina walked down the hall, closer to the door, when a woman walked around the corner, startling her.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Christina said, moving. “I'm just here to pick up my daughter.”

The woman, looking busy and distracted, nodded. She entered the meeting room and shut the door. Christina could no longer hear the conversation taking place, so she walked back to the waiting area and paced while biting her fingernails
.

***

Terrance sat in the van, looking around the parking lot. Everything seemed peaceful. There wasn't a car on the road. Not a siren, motorcycle, or tractor trailer was to be heard. The van rumbled loudly. Terrance was growing anxious. He hated wasting the fuel, but couldn't risk shutting the engine off. Over the van’s engine, he heard the sound of an airplane from above. He unfastened his seatbelt, stuck his head out the window, and looked up into the bright-blue sky. An airplane, as tiny as a dot, flew above, leaving a smoke trail in its wake. The sight of the plane brought a rush of relief and hope. He smiled uncontrollably. He had never been certain of the effects of EMPs on air travel. Perhaps the altitude was simply too high, beyond reach of the magnetic pulse. Whatever the reason, things were still moving at forty thousand feet above them.

***

Paula was in Mrs. Rockwell's darkened classroom when Mr. Wallace came in to get her. The flat-screen panel attached to her desk and the thirty others in the room had shut down hours before, as had every other piece of electronics. Paula’s teacher, Mrs. Rockwell, had resorted to using the large white dry-erase board to keep the lesson moving.

“Paula Robinson?” Mr. Wallace called out as he entered the room, silencing the eighth-grade class.

Paula looked up at the sound of her name as all eyes turned toward the middle of the classroom where she was seated.

“Yes?” Paula answered in a meek voice.

“Please come with me,” Mr. Wallace answered.

“Ohhhhhhh,” the class called in unison.

“Calm down, students,” Mrs. Rockwell said.

Embarrassed, Paula got up and started to walk away from her desk.

“Bring your backpack,” he said. Paula turned around, went back to her desk, and grabbed it.

“What is this about?” Mrs. Rockwell asked.

“Her mother is here to pick her up,” he answered.

“My mom?” Paula said curiously.

“Let's go, time's a-wasting,” Mr. Wallace said.

Christina continued to pace the front lobby. She heard footsteps moving down the hallway toward the waiting room. The familiar sound of Paula's vinyl backpack swishing around gave her hope. Suddenly, Mr. Wallace emerged, Paula at his side.

“Here she is, Mrs. Robinson,” she said.

Christina wasted no time embracing her daughter, causing Mr. Wallace to step back and move out of the way.

“Mom,” Paula said, annoyed and puzzled by her mother’s smothering hug, “what’s up?”

“I'm just so glad you're all right,” Christina said, standing up. “Let's go.” She took Paula by the hand and began to lead her out the door. She then turned to Mr. Wallace. “Thanks so much for your help,” she said.

“My pleasure. Good luck at the dentist.”

As they pushed the double doors open and walked together, Paula looked up at her. “Dentist?” she asked. “Why are we going to the dentist?”

***

Terrance was instantly relieved to see them return. He had been waiting for twenty minutes with the engine running the entire time. Christina swung the side door open and helped Paula climb in. She sat on the long three-seater Terrance had installed himself.

“But if we're not going to the dentist, where are we going?” she asked.

“Don't worry about it right now. I'll explain everything when we get back on the road.”

Paula placed her backpack on the floor and sat. Terrance turned to her with a smile.

“Dad?” she said. “I thought you were leaving today.”

“Things changed, dear. Are you OK?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?”

“Where's your radio? How many times have I told you to carry that radio with you?” Terrance said.

His directness took Paula by surprise. “Radio? I forgot it. What's the big deal?” she said.

Christina opened the passenger-side door and jumped in. “Let's roll,” she said. “And give her a break. We found her, and that's all that matters right now.”

Terrance put the van into drive and drove out of the school. Traffic was nonexistent. Most of the vehicles on the road had already been abandoned.

“So where are we going? Could you guys tell me something, please?” Paula asked.

Terrance and Christina glanced at each other then back at the road. “We're taking a little road trip, but first we need to pick up your brothers from school.”

***

Paula looked ahead and noticed the curious arrangement of vehicles parked in the road. There were swarms of people around taking a keen notice of their van. As they got closer to Tobias and Richie's school, it was clear that something serious was going on.

“Is this about the power going out?” she asked.

“We'll explain everything soon, baby,” Christina said. Her eyes darted everywhere, trying to concentrate on the multitude of people who surrounded them. “Right now we just have to concentrate on the road, get your brothers, and get home.”

North Atlanta High was close
, but as they grew closer, the reality of the situation differed from Paula's school. Students were leaving through the front gate in droves. They poured out into the streets unconcerned of cars because no cars were moving. All except for Terrance's van.

There was no clear path in or out of the school due to their sheer numbers at flowing out through the gate. The students were on edge. The bewildering breakdown of their electronics and vehicles had stunned them. Just one look at the crowd ahead and the prospect of finding Richie and Tobias seemed impossible. Terrance pulled to the side of the road and parked on the grass near the sidewalk.

“What are you doing?” Christina asked. They were still at a somewhat safe distance, a hundred feet or so, from the school entrance. The school parking lot was full of cars and trucks of all makes and models with their hoods open and their young owners peering inside.

“I'm parking right here,” Terrance said. I'm gonna have to shut off the engine. You and Paula wait for me. I'll go in this time.”

“Try them on the radio first,” Christina said. Paula was distracted by all the movement around them and growing anxious.

Terrance pulled out his handheld radio and fiddled with it, pressing it on and off. He then listened as static came over the tiny speaker. “Still working,” he said. He held the button on the radio and called to the boys. “Tobias, Richie, come in. Can you hear me?” There was a pause, and then he waited. All he could hear was static. “Tobias, Richie! Are you there?” Christina leaned in closer, trying to hear even the faintest sound. They could hear nothing. Students, young girls and boys—mostly African American—walked past the van, assuming it was like the other vehicles broken down in the middle and on the side of the road.

“Lock your doors and keep them locked. I'm going in,” Terrance said.

“They're just kids,” Christina said, scoffing at Terrance's paranoia. Her eyes frantically searched the cluster of kids now passing by them for any sign of their two boys.

“Take no chances, Chris,” Terrance said in a serious tone. “You know as well as I do that some of these kids would jack our van without hesitating. I got no choice but to go to the football field and get them myself.” Terrance opened his door and was met with a wave of conversations from the surrounding wanderers. It was mid-afternoon, close to the time school normally ended, and it appeared that the school security and administrators were in over their heads.

He saw a couple of police cars parked in the school lot and a few uniforms amidst the students. Over the past few years, North Atlanta High had begun to earn a reputation as a school laden with crime, drugs, and violence. At one point, Terrance and Christina considered pulling their boys out but couldn’t afford to send them anywhere else. On the two-lane road ahead of him, he witnessed the very lack of control the school was notorious for. Some walked out the front gate, while others climbed the chain link fence surrounding the school.

“It should take no more than five minutes. I hope. You and Paula just wait in the van,” he said.

Christina nodded. “Don't take too long now. And good luck.”

“Thanks.” Terrance closed the door and walked toward the school entrance as Christina and Paula waited in the van under the shade of a large oak tree. He looked beyond the fence to a line of one-story buildings that made up the school classrooms, auditorium, and library. The track field was located behind the school.

Students pushed their way out of the front gate in defiance of the personnel at a nearby security booth. Guards attempted to prevent the students from leaving but were pushed aside or knocked to the ground. Terrance weighed his options. The way in was the front, and he would have to push his way through to enter. Outside the school, police officers observed the scene but made no attempt to control the crowd or stop the walkout. As Terrance struggled through the crowd, students looked at him as if he were a teacher or an administrator.

Their loud, alarming voices came from all directions. There were frustrated students just trying to leave, jovial students reveling in excitement of the technological breakdown, and scheming students looking for an opportunity to cause trouble. He made his way past the crowd and toward the bus loop. There was a commotion by the flagpole. A crowd had gathered in a circle, concealing whatever was going on. Terrance hurried along when a handful of police officers rushed toward the flagpole and nearly knocked him over.

A fight between two male students was taking place. They circled each other, breathing heavily, with their fists raised. The Hispanic kid had blood running down his forehead, and he stumbled with every step, while his African American adversary seethed with rage.

Terrance couldn't help but investigate. The Hispanic kid was smaller and less built than his rival, and looked outmatched. The larger, African American boy charged at him, and they fell to the ground together in an awkward scuffle. Their frenzied rolling tore up the ground under them, tossing blades of grass and weed into the air. The crowd's cheering reached a fever pitch as they backed away to create more room for the two sparring juveniles to roll around in. Unlike the crowd, Terrance wanted to stop the fight. He saw nothing exciting about two boys pummeling each other. Then again, when he was a child, fights were pretty common. He had gotten into plenty of them himself in high school.

Three young white male police officers pushed their way through the gathered onlookers and attempted to break up the fight. The presence of the police soured the jubilant affair, and several moans sounded as a result.

Terrance moved away and pulled the bulging handheld radio from his pocket. He pressed the side button as more students pushed past him. “Richie, Tobias, come in! You guys there? Answer me!” Suddenly a voice crackled through as Terrance held the speaker to his ear.

“I'm here, Dad. It's me, Tobias.”

Terrance felt great relief and held the radio to his mouth. “Tobias? You still at the football field? If you are, just stay there. We may have to find another way out of here.”

“I'm here, but Richie left,” Tobias cut in.

Terrance paused for a moment. “What do you mean, he left?”

“I mean that he's not here. I think he went to go get his girlfriend. There's talk of a riot.”

Terrance shook his head in disbelief to Richie's disobedience. “Tobias, listen to me. Just stay where you are. I'm at the school now. I'm going to meet up with you, and then we're going to find your brother.”

“OK, Dad,” Tobias said.

Terrance lowered the radio and continued on past the flagpole. He could barely contain his anger at Richie, but in a way, it made sense. Terrance could understand the urge to be a protector.

As Terrance walked away, things got worse. Suddenly, angered shouts from the flagpole mob gained his full attention. Two police officers were pushing the crowd away from the fighters as the other knelt on the back of the African American kid and handcuffed him. The Hispanic kid lay on his stomach, nearly unconscious.

“What is this, man? I was just defending myself!” the handcuffed teen shouted. Blood from his mouth pooled on the grass next to his face. The officer dug his knee deep into the teen's back, causing him to wince.

“Shut your mouth,” the officer said. “We’re taking both of you in.”

Suddenly a boy with dreadlocks charged from the crowd toward the kneeling officer and stopped within a few inches.

“Let my boy go, man. He ain't done nothing wrong. Like he said, it was self-defense.”

The officer pointed toward the boy. “Step away from here right now unless you want to join your friend.”

“Let him go!” the teen yelled.

“Are you going to try me?” the flustered officer asked. His face was drenched in sweat. The heat of the afternoon had hit its peak, further escalating the tension.

Terrance didn't like what he was seeing. The situation was going to get worse before it got any better.

The dreadlocked teen got directly in the officer's face as if the uniform meant nothing to him.

“I'm warning you,” the officer said. His partners were too busy dealing with crowd control to intervene.

“Get off my boy, now!” the boy shouted.

Without a word, the officer pulled a Taser gun from his holster belt and shot a line of 1,000 volts into the dreadlocked boy's chest, causing him to drop instantly to the ground like a sack of rocks. His collapse on the grass shocked the crowd, and they went silent.

The officer stood up and yanked the Taser line from the boy’s shaking body. He turned the boy over and placed a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

“That ain't right, man,” another teenage boy said from the pack of gawking students.

Murmurs from the crowd followed. “Damn police think they can do anything they want,” a girl added. The crowd closed in around the officer as his two partners tried to push them back.

“That's enough. Everyone go about your business and let us do our jobs,” one of the other officers said. His pale, freckled face was flushed with red. The officers grew nervous, and their hands were at their pistols. Terrance watched the spectacle from behind the crowd. He wanted things to end before anyone got seriously hurt, but he didn't know how.

“You got enough bullets in there for all of us?” A lanky teenager with his boxer briefs showing asked.

“Stay back, all of you!” the officer called out. They stood nervously over the three handcuffed boys, ready to use necessary force.

“Fucking pigs!” another boy shouted from within the crowd. A large plastic trash can suddenly hit one of officers, knocking him to the ground and covering him in debris. His partner pulled out his Taser, ready to fire it. The other remaining officer pulled out his 9mm pistol.

Seeing this, Terrance ran toward the crowd and pushed his way into the circle. “You all need to stop this nonsense right now!” he shouted. Not wanting to give the kids time to respond, he played off his own burly size and booming voice. “Back off, all of you! You push these cops far enough, you're gonna leave them with no choice but to shoot your dumbasses!”

The students examined Terrance suspiciously. They were losing interest, and no one seemed to want to take the matter further or start with Terrance. The crowd dispersed, while a few remained in defiance. “I said get out of here. Don't make me say it twice!” Terrance said. The remaining teens scoffed at him and slowly walked away.

“Thank you, sir,” the struck officers said, brushing the trash off him.

His partners pulled the handcuffed boys to their feet. Terrance watched as the remainder of the students headed out the front gate. The school had cleared out.

“Not a problem,” Terrance said to the officers. He left them and continued his trek to the football field, swinging the handheld in his hand. He called Tobias again. “I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere,” he said.

A moment later Tobias's voice came over the speaker. “Got it, Dad.”

Terrance walked to the back of the school and could see the football field in view. A lone boy sat on the bleachers wearing jeans, sneakers, and a red T-shirt.

“Tobias!” Terrance called out. Tobias looked up from the bleachers, relieved to see his dad. He climbed down the steps and walked across the grass to meet him halfway. Terrance had never really been the hugging type, but when they met, Terrance patted his shoulder and tried to hide his immense relief.