End Days Super Boxset (189 page)

“In addition to the power outage. What else is happening? Our cars won't start. We have no means of communication and no clue on what is happening anywhere else. The people here have families, and I don't think we're going to get much more out of them until they get some answers.”

The mayor nodded then responded. “It's the same everywhere as far as I know. We have our hands full trying to contain it all. We can't provide even the most basic services, from public transportation to traffic lights. It's a disaster.”

“But your helicopter?” Todd asked. “Your helicopter still works. So there must be hope for other things as well.”

“We were lucky with the helicopter. One of our experts suggested that it was out of range at the time of the strike.”

Suddenly Patterson cut in. “Mayor Hastings, I just want to be clear here, are we officially declaring this incident as an EMP attack?”

“It's the best we have right now, Mr. Patterson. I wish there was another explanation, but based on what I've heard, it's the most likely scenario.”

They walked around the busy plant floor as technicians scurried by with their flashlights. Sunlight from windows high above allowed some minimal light into the vast room of centrifuges, fuse boxes, transformers, and generators.

Patterson was stunned to hear the mayor verify their suspicions of an EMP attack. “But, but...how? Don't we have some kind of missile defense system to prevent such a thing?”

“Regardless of how, I think we need to consider the fact that someone did,” Todd said. “Such an attack could be only the beginning. I suggest immediate evacuation.”

The mayor's face went aghast. Patterson took notice and attempted to downplay Todd's comments. “I don't know if such extreme measures are necessary. Especially after all the progress we've made,” he said.

Todd stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Patterson. He was frustrated with his boss's consistent denial. To put it another way, he was sick of the bullshit.

“What progress?” he shouted, dumbfounded.

Patterson glared back, enraged and silent. The mayor and her security team stopped and weren't sure what to say. It was clear there was tension between the two men.

“I got one!” a voice shouted from a nearby industrial room.

Patterson perked up. “You hear that?”

“Sounds like Woodruff,” Todd said.

“Your man on the generator, right?” Patterson asked.

“That's right.”

“What's going on?” the mayor asked, leaning in.

“Quick, this way, Mayor Hastings,” Patterson said, walking quickly away.

The group followed and burst into the dimly lit room to see a group of people surrounding a particularly large generator where Woodruff, their trusted technician, was kneeling. The mayor pushed her way between Todd and Patterson and went straight to where the others were gathered.

“I think this one still has some juice!” Woodruff said excitedly, peering into the internal circuitry of the generator using a small light connected to his hard hat.

Murmurs flowed through the small gathering of men and women, all of them burnt out from hours of endless work and concern for their loved ones. No one had a clue what was going on back in town, and many had since left on foot to investigate. They hadn't been seen since.

“What do you see?” Johnson asked, kneeling next to Woodruff. “Are you getting any readings off this thing?”

“Hold on,” Woodruff said, putting his hand up.

Patterson walked over to the large generator with Todd slowly trailing behind. “We need to give him space,” Todd said.

He was ignored as more people spilled into the room. Todd stopped and stood a safe distance from the crowd, simply observing, as if warned by some sort of premonition.

Patterson pushed his way forward. “What do you have, Woodruff?”

“I've got a reading on this one. Its circuits appear intact. Might just have enough juice to power some of the others,” Woodruff said. “Reminds me of a girl I used to date. Wasn't much to look at, but she sure had a spark in her.” Woodruff paused for laughter, but no one seemed to take notice of his joke.

Suddenly, the mayor cut in. “Do you think there's a chance you can get these generators working again?” she asked in an exhausted tone.

“Maybe,” Woodruff answered, grabbing a screwdriver and holding it up in the air. “I just have to get into the mainframe and mess with the wiring a little bit.” He leaned forward into the body of the generator and attempted to pry open the switchboard cover. “We'll find out for sure if all pistons are firing with this one, then we can—”

Before he could finish, an explosive flash occurred, followed by a deafening blast which threw Woodruff back against the concrete wall. Everyone else flew to the ground in a startled panic. Todd jumped back as a series of explosive pops and sparks followed. It was enough to cause ringing in the ears of everyone in the room.

Smoke flowed from the once hopeful generator. As the mayor, her security detail, Patterson, and the others hunkered on the ground, Todd saw flames rising amid the intense smoke. His mind raced in panic. He looked around the room and discerned a nearby fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.

“Fire!” Todd yelled as he ran to the wall and grabbed the extinguisher. He pulled the pin from the handle, ran to the generator, and doused the flames with thick coolant in brief, controlled bursts. It did the trick, leaving only the unmistakable and potent smell of an electrical fire.

Todd looked around. Everyone was still flat on their stomachs. The smoke had made it even harder to see. “Is everyone OK?” he asked.

Some of the people groaned and got up, helping one another. Todd looked at the ground and noticed Patterson struggling to gain his footing. He offered a hand and pulled his boss up. The mayor's security team went immediately to where she was lying face first on the ground. “Ma'am,” one of the security men said, pulling gently on her arm.

Todd noticed Woodruff on his back against the wall. A small bloodstain was on the wall above his head and he appeared to be unconscious. “Woodruff? Woodruff, you OK?” Todd asked. There was no movement.

Patterson stretched with his arms extended, then looked to the group around him. “Look, is everyone all right? Do we have any injuries?”

“I can't get Woodruff to wake up,” Todd said.

“Ma'am. Ma'am, we need to get you out of here,” one of the mayor’s security men said as his partner knelt down to check her vital signs. His partner looked up. “We need help, the mayor has been injured.”

Patterson's eyes widened in panic. He rushed over to where the mayor was and turned on his penlight.

Todd placed his fingers on Woodruff’s neck to search for a pulse. His arms and face had been blackened from the explosion, and he wasn't breathing. His long, curly hair reeked of smoke and was burnt on the ends. There was no telling how many volts he had endured.

“I need help here!” Todd shouted, placing Woodruff flat on his back to give him CPR. Some of the group, including Johnson, formed a circle around Woodruff. Todd was no expert, but he attempted to go through the motions, pushing down on Woodruff’s chest and breathing into his mouth. No matter how many times he did it, nothing seemed to make a difference.

“Here, let me try, you're doing it wrong,” Johnson said in a frustrated tone. He knelt down as Todd got out of the way and attempted his own method of CPR, identical to Todd's.

“Get over here!” Patterson yelled to the others. “The mayor needs help!”

In the confusion, the group of technicians split into two smaller groups. A group of six stood by the mayor, while five or so tried to help Woodruff. Todd backed away from both groups, trying to understand what had happened.

“The mayor's not breathing!” Patterson yelled. Her security detail was incapable of bringing her back. She was as blackened as Woodruff, having been hit by the same degree of electrical force.

“Woodruff’s not breathing!” Johnson called out. He continued administering CPR, but each heavy push and labored breath had no effect on the man's lifeless body.

The mayor's security men stood up in a panic. They lifted the mayor up and one of them put her over his shoulder. “We have to get her to a hospital,” he said to his partner. “Out of the way!” he shouted as they ran out of the room.

“Hey, what about this man here?” Johnson yelled out, pointing at Woodruff.

The security team continued without responding.

Johnson looked around in a panic. “Come on, you guys. If we move fast enough, we can get Woodruff on that helicopter too.” There was no immediate response from anyone. Johnson grew angry. “What the hell is wrong with you people, we got a man down here!”

Patterson placed a hand on his shoulder. Johnson spun around in a fury to face him. “Woodruff is gone,” he said calmly.

“Not if we get him to a hospital. If we don't move fast, he could have serious brain damage.”

“Woodruff’s not breathing. He's dead. I know it's tragic, but we need to focus on the situation at hand.”

“Go to hell, Patterson!” Johnson shouted, turning back to Woodruff.

Todd stood against the wall in stunned disbelief. Everything had happened so fast, he was still registering it. There was no answer to what caused the explosion or how it happened. Woodruff was a trained electrician but had been unprepared and a tad careless in his eagerness to get the generator working.

“I don't understand,” Todd said, approaching Patterson. “How could that happen if all the electrical circuits had been fried?”

“Maybe. Just maybe not all electrical circuits have been fried. Ever think of that?” Patterson answered. “Now move Woodruff to a more suitable room, and let's get this place up and running.”

Todd stared at Patterson in disgust. Tensions were high enough, and no one was going to continue working after they found out that a coworker had been killed. Todd felt that he had to take matters into his own hands.

“We need to evacuate this plant. It's not safe.”

Patterson grew enraged at his insolence. “You'll do no such thing! We have a responsibility to work through this crisis. So cut the shit and get back to work.”

“You might be right,” Todd said, unmoved. “But it's over, Mr. Patterson. There's nothing more we can do. Not without government or military assistance.”

“One more word out of you, Broderick, and you're fired. Do you fucking understand me?” Patterson seethed.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a helicopter in the parking lot outside taking off. Patterson stood motionless, face reddened, with a finger pointed in Todd's direction. From outside, the helicopter sounded like it was flying too low. Its quick descent was followed by a large explosion very close to the plant.

Todd looked to Patterson wide-eyed. The technicians made a mad dash out of the room, leaving Woodruff on the ground. It sounded like a bomb or something worse. No one was sure. Todd's mind raced with the possibilities. A rocket? A missile? Another EMP strike? A panicked mob of technicians burst out of the double doors into the parking lot. Patterson was one of the first out. He looked at the ball of fire, out past the parking lot gate and down the road.

“Oh no,” he said. “Oh no...”

Todd caught up with Johnson and the others. They looked toward the flames with collective shock and bewilderment. The helicopter had crashed within a hundred yards of the power plant. All that remained was smoldering metal engulfed in flames. Todd put his hand to his mouth, feeling sick to his stomach.

“What now?” he asked Patterson.

Patterson had no words. None of them did.

It had been over a week since the statewide blackout. At a concealed compound near Milledgeville, deep in the woods, Russell Rockwell and his men were preparing for all-out war. They had some strength in numbers, roughly fifteen men, most in their thirties and forties. The men had been trained through the months in various combat drills and exercises. They were roughly the size of a platoon but still an inadequate force against their greatest foe: the United States government.

Russell's dream was to take his civilian militia straight to the steps of Capitol Hill and overthrow the government. But, he understood the reality of the situation and improbability of making an impact with so few numbers.

However, without power, communication, and mobility, new recruits were bound to surface. His trusted lieutenant, Kyle, helped him oversee the compound and ensure that the men were trained daily. The group so far consisted of men from all different walks of life who were starting a new life outside the conventions of normal society. In doing so, they felt they were making a sacrifice for future generations.

Though many of them had fallen on hard times, were in trouble with the law, or just needed to get away from it all, Russell ensured that he had their unyielding support and loyalty. This method involved creating a fostering environment in which the group operated as a family. There was no judgment about who anyone once was, what they were running from, or why.

They were part of something important. That's what they were told. Russell didn't consider it brainwashing. He didn't want mind-numbed robots. What he desired the most was loyalty. People who trusted his decisions above all. He didn't see any other way to achieve his ultimate goal to wage war against the government. A government which he felt had stripped the citizens of their fundamental rights. In some ways, Russell's concerns were justified, but he no longer had any faith in the electoral process, or democracy for that matter. Those days were over, as far as he was concerned. The only weapon they had left was brute force. He wanted a revolution.

Russell had no military experience. His illnesses excluded him from joining the service, and over the years he had gotten worse. He had been ravaged by a unique strain of leukemia that was destroying his bone marrow and attacking his organs daily. Though he had been showing progress with his treatments and medications, the doctor's best estimates were five to ten years. Russell was running out of time, and he knew it.

A former city councilman, he had fallen into a deep depression after his reelection defeat, and a divorce from his wife of thirteen years. He barely ever heard from her or his teenage son and daughter, who lived in Pittsburgh with their mother. At one point, he had had a real life, but now felt a higher calling.

What Russell lacked in military experience, he made up for in basic survivalist skills. He could hunt, build, and survive on the land. With the help of Kyle, a retired army artillery man, Russell had financed the camp’s construction with his life's savings in savvy investments. Three months in the woods, and they had recruited fifteen men. Within a year, he hoped to have his militia. All he hoped was that he would make it that far.

Recently, they had acquired six more potential recruits, college kids who had gotten lost in the woods following a camping trip. Hungry, tired, and desperate, the twenty-something sophomores had been convinced by Russell to spend a few days at the compound where they would receive food, water, and shelter. The compound, he told them, was called “Camp Liberty,” a place safe from the dangers of the outside world where the system had failed. But Russell and his men didn't expect their wary college visitors to join the cause immediately. It would take time.

There were four cabins inside the compound, 700 square-feet each. The cabins, or living quarters, had bunk beds, space heaters, and room for personal belongings and supplies. There were a few portable bathrooms outside next to makeshift shower stations. And of course, there was an obstacle course made up of tires, climbing bars, ropes, platforms, ditches, and barbed wire. Russell felt they had everything they needed and sensed the arrival of others at any time. He wanted “Camp Liberty” to be ready.

The visiting college students consisted of four males and two females. There were Shane, Danny, Jeff, and Chris on the boys’ side. On the girls' side were Sally and Jacklyn. Sally, Shane's girlfriend, was quiet and intuitive. Jacklyn was dating Danny and was the louder and more abrasive of the two girls.

Shane had initially spoken for the group when they approached the gates of the compound after being lost for days. He was a natural leader in some regard, while Danny was a natural agitator. Jeff was quiet and somewhat distrustful of the men who took them in. Their hosts were armed whereas they were not. Such a scenario disturbed them, but they were willing to give Camp Liberty a chance.

Chris was a Journalism major and naturally inquisitive. He could feel something off-kilter about the camp and wanted to investigate further. Sally had sprained her ankle and could barely walk. She was relieved to have found a place they could stay temporarily, though the abundance of bearded middle-aged men made her nervous. Jacklyn was concerned for their safety. Something about the camp bothered her. Ultimately, they were all confused. Russell and his men offered assurances, and it was something the students needed, whether they realized it or not at the time.