EMP Attack

By the sixth day, the travelers were few and far between. Midafternoon on the seventh day we were once again in the kitchen taking stock of the few provisions we had left and morbidly calculating the days we had left to survive.

Don had rigged a water collection system by cutting the down spout leading from the gutters and positioning a fifty five gallon plastic drum that had been left in the shed when we purchased the house, under the spout. Our hope was that when the rain came we would be able to capture sufficient water to replace our diminishing supply of bottled water. The roof of the house was metal so the prospects of being able to purify the water enough for consumption were greater than if it were a shingled roof. However, water without food would do us no good.

We had just returned to the kitchen from outside when we heard the roar of what could only be a motorcycle. Looking through the front window there were indeed two motorcycles stopped on the road in front of our house. The two large men sitting of the bikes were staring at our house. Both had full beards with cut off tee shirts and arms covered in tattoos. When they shut off the engines and dismounted, it was obvious that they were headed to our door. The one leading had a sweaty bandana around his head and was carrying, what appeared to be a shot gun. Don put his hand on my shoulder and told me to stay inside, he would talk to them outside.

When Don stepped outside and shut the door behind him the two menacing looking thugs advanced to within ten feet of my husband. They were smiling but their smiles were evil, not friendly. The one not holding the gun spoke first:

"Howdy y'all. My buddy here and me are looking for some food and water. Give us what you can and we'll be on our way. How's that sound, partner.?

Don was 5'11" but these two guys were a few inches taller and certainly bigger and rougher looking than my husband. Don tried to neither look or sound intimidated when he replied:

"I don't have any food, been going into the woods to get berries and the water is what I get off the roof when it rains. Sorry I can't help you fellers but I just don't have anything".

They looked at one another and laughed then the one holding the shot gun growled:

"Well, mother-fucker, we'll just take a look see for ourselves".

When Don stepped in front of him to block his path the guy smashed the stock of the gun into the side of my husband's head. Don fell to his knees, holding his head as blood seeped through his fingers.

I screamed and ran out of the door and was kneeling beside him in an instant.

"You bastards, I hissed. Why did you have to do that, my husband told you the truth. We don't have and food".

When Don tried to get up the guy not holding the gun kicked him in the chest and he toppled over, moaning in pain. The gun totter grabbed my hair and turning to his partner, laughed and said:

Maybe we ain't gonna get any food but we're definitely gonna get some pussy".

As he was pulling me to my feet I was trying to claw at his hands and face. Just then his head was enshrouded with a red mist. His eyes, momentarily, widened in shock and he collapsed as he released my hair and fell to the ground. Terrified and having no idea of what just happened I was on my hands and knees. The other biker started to back up slowly looking from side to side wondering what had just happened. He stopped suddenly and I saw his eyes dart to the shot gun. As he started to move forward to retrieve it I heard another loud pop and then his head exploded also.

I crawled over to my husband and tied to help him as he attempted to stand. He was wincing as he stood, holding his rib cage. His face was covered in blood and I saw a gash on his forehead near his hairline. When I tried to hug him he groaned in pain so I put my arm under his to help support his weight and turned to get him into the house.

I jumped reflexively as I sensed a presence to my right. Bo Johnson was walking towards us with a military looking rife slung on his shoulder.

Calmly and authoritatively, he said:

"Let's get him to my place. I have the medical supplies we'll need to fix him up".

With that he handed me his gun to carry and put Don's arm around his shoulder and we slowly headed towards his house.

Surprisingly, the gun wasn't very big nor even heavy. The scope mounted on the top was nearly as long as the rifle itself.

Once inside, Bo laid Don on his sofa and instructed me to go in the kitchen and wet some towels that were near the sink next to a full five gallon water jug, the kind used in office water coolers.

"Try to clean him up, he said as I rushed back in, I'll get my first aid bag and we'll see what we can do".

"It ain't as bad as it looks, Bo said without looking at me and while blotting some fresh blood from my husband's forehead. Y'all gonna need a few stitches though Donny Boy gotta stop that bleeding and it's gonna hurt like a mother fu...like a bitch", he corrected.

He unwrapped a syringe from his bag and inserting it into a small bottle, withdrew the clear liquid. He did it just like you see in war movies. Don asked him what he was giving him and Bo said simply:

"Morphine! Won't knock you out but it'll help with the pain".

With that, he stuck his arm. While the morphine was doing its job, Bo Johnson was threading surgical suture material. When he was finished, he cleaned the area with alcohol and used a freezing spray on the skin around the wound. Up until that point I had been pretty brave but I couldn't bring myself to watch the actual suturing. I heard Don grunt with pain a few times but still couldn't look.

"OK, Donny, just two more should do it, then we'll take a look at those ribs". I heard Bo say.

Next, he checked Don's ribs. "Nothin seems to be broken, maybe a fracture or two, but either way y'all gonna be hurtin for a few days. Take it easy here for a bit you ain't gonna be too good on your feet. Got some things to do" he declared and went out the front door. Shortly I heard a motor cycle start and then the sound of the engine moving down the side of the house into the back yard. A few minutes later I heard the second bike repeating the process. When I looked out the back window I did not see the bikes but I saw Bo digging a hole back by the fence line.

I went back to the living room to check on my husband.

Between his head wound and his ribs, Don was in a lot of pain but the morphine made him drowsy enough to nod off on the sofa. My adrenaline rush was wearing off and as I sat next to Don my whole body began to tremble as the image of the two bikers and what they had planned to do to me and my husband flooded my consciousness. Try as I might I couldn't control my sobbing.

When I did finally get myself under control Don was awake. I had not even felt him holding my hand and the look of surprise on his face as he stared at the ceiling gave me to wonder if his head injury was more than superficial.

Continuing to stare at the ceiling, he simply said:

"look"!

When I looked up I immediately realized what had him so captivated. The ceiling fan was turning at about half speed. The second thing that I realized was, even though it was warm in the house, it wasn't the sweat box we had endured for the past week. I looked at Don in confusion and reaching over to the end table turned the switch on the lamp, which immediately illuminated.

"Oh, my God, Honey, the power is back on". I exclaimed excitedly.

"Sorry to disappoint y'all, a voice said from the doorway. The power's not on and probably won't be for a very long time. I have a generator out back. I use it sparingly to help keep conditions livable".

With that said, he walked over and clicked off the lamp.

"What do you mean, the powers not going to come back on? Don asked with obvious agitation in his voice.

Even though Don had asked the question, Bo was looking directly at me when he replied:

"You folks got no idea what's going on, do ya"? Well, you can bet the ranch that this was an EMP attack".

Seeing the confusion on our faces, he continued:

'EMP, Electro Magnetic Pulse. One of our enemies, who knows, Russia, China, Iran, one of them did it. Exploded a nuclear device thousands of feet above us. Rather than kill directly they figured they'll let us die a natural death and if they don't get us all it will virtually eliminate the US from the civilized world. The pulse created by the explosion fried our electric grid. No electric, no fuel, no food, no sanitation system and basically no government.

Our government has known about this for decades, not just the possibility but the probability. Scientists and even a few honorable politicians have testified before congressional committees on numerous occasions. Damn politicians! All they're worried about is their lifetime salaries and their reelections. Constituents be damned"!

"If you're right, Don interrupted, what could we have done about it, anyhow?

"They could have "hardened the grid". Russia did it. China did it. They made their electrical grid almost impervious to attack. But not us, we waste billions on foreign aid to countries that hate our guts and billions more on stupid social programs that have failed over and over again.

Now we're up shits creek without a paddle".

I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't the ravings of a right wing, conspiracy theorist, so I asked: "So what happens now, does everybody just die of starvation or disease?"

Millions will, maybe more. Hard to tell. The people who have written about it have estimated that as many as a hundred million could perish. With no military to speak of, no police and no communications, anarchy will ensue. Hungry people will revert from civilized behavior when there is no civilization to speak of and they are watching their children starve and die.

Hell! You saw what can happen just a few hours ago. They were scum of the earth to start with and they would have taken what they wanted and probably killed you just for the fun of it. So, if you're feeling any guilt, don't. Somebody should have ridded society of those scum and their kind a long time ago.

"The problem is that in a very short time, it will be the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest. Folks like you will just be forgotten casualties".

"Thanks". I said sarcastically. So, are you one of the "fittest", Mister Johnson?

"I guess only time will tell but I sure as hell haven't been sitting on my ass waiting for my Uncle Sam to come to my rescue. Yeah! I'm pretty self-sufficient, at least, for the time being.

"Anyhow, Mrs. Propper, I'd ask Donny here to help me but he's going to be pretty useless for a while so I need for you to give me a hand out front".

"Doing what"? I asked suspiciously.

"The bodies. I'd just as soon let their vile corpses rot but there are health issues. Aside from that there are sure to be more refugees coming down the pike and we don't need to draw any attention to our- selves".

I was horrified at the thought of even having to go near them and expressed my reluctance.

Matter-of-factly, Bo said:

"If you guys want to eat tonight, you'll help. All I need you to do is lift the feet so I can get them into a wheel barrow without it tipping over. They're big guys so it will have to be done one at a time".

Don struggled to sit up but grunting in pain, said:

"I can do it, she doesn't have to".

When he stood, a wave of dizziness and pain hit him and he sat down heavily.

Bo walked out the front door and without another word I followed him.

Later that afternoon, after he buried the bodies, this gruff man who had hardly spoken a word to us in six months, said:

"Y'all stay for dinner and then we can talk".

I was so hungry that I was nauseous and dizzy. Don was still feeling the effects of the morphine but it was wearing off and I could see the discomfort written on his face. At firs,t he didn't want to eat. I didn't know if it was out of pride or suspicion but I managed to get him to the table. When I got Don seated at the table Bo was still outside working on the food.

"Be careful, Keri, there are no free meals in this world, he said quietly. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, and all that".

"I know babe but right now we're starving so let's see how it plays out. We don't have anything to offer and besides he probably did save our lives today. Let's just see what happens. He'll probably just kick us out after we eat anyhow."

The meal consisted of boiled rabbit, onions, carrots and a potato that he prepared in a big pot and cooked on a large, makeshift, grill that he had fashioned out of some sort of steel container. When he opened the refrigerator and extracted what looked like skimmed milk, I was stunned. He must have interpreted the look on my face because he casually stated:

"I turn the generator on just long enough so that my meats and milk don't spoil. It's just watered down goat's milk but it's nutritious and you get used to the taste".

Don ate sparingly but to me, it was a five-star restaurant. Bo must have even had spices to add to the pot because the stew was delicious. Half way through the meal he saw that we had finished our goats milk and took out a picture of water from the refrigerator. The water was cool but compared to the hot water we had been drinking, it was like champagne.

After dinner Bo got down to business. He started by asking some direct questions. Whenever he spoke to us he always looked at me and rarely at my husband. There was nothing lascivious in his stare but he acted as I was the one to make the decisions. I knew that Don resented it but at the moment there wasn't much I could say. The man had saved our lives and, at the very least, saved me from being raped. Now we were sitting here eating his food and although I felt awkward, I kept silent.

"I assume you're running low on food and water?"

I nodded but then added:

We have some crackers and canned goods, enough for a few days if we're careful. Don rigged up something to collect rain water in a big drum and we already have quite a bit. I knew it sounded lame but I wanted to say something to show that my husband was doing what he could to help us survive.

"Do y'all have any guns or ammo?.

Don shook his head and then, for some reason, added:

We've never supported gun rights. It's just not how we think.

Bo looked at him with disbelief plastered all over his face and frankly I was astonished at Don's statement. This wasn't the time or place to spouting off about guns or gun owners.

"Yeah, well if it weren't for guns you'd be speaking German. If it wasn't for guns you'd probably be dead and those scum bags would have had their way with your wife. If it weren't for guns you wouldn't be sitting here enjoying rabbit stew".

Bo was obviously annoyed at Don's remark and it showed in his sarcastic reply. I tried to mollify the situation by adding:

"We know that guns are a necessary evil, we just don't think that everyone one should be entitled to own one". We're from the city Mr. Johnson and we just never realized how important guns were to people like you".

As soon as I said that I knew I had put my foot in my mouth. The situation was going from bad to worse and I was pissed at Don for having started us down this path.

He let out a sardonic chuckle and replied:

""People like me? Ya mean good ole boys like me. Uneducated, hillbilly, rednecks who cling to their bibles and guns."

I was mortified and I'm sure the blush in my cheeks was proof of that. He never took his eyes off me, waiting for my next guffaw.

"No! No! Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry it came out wrong. It has been a very harrowing day for us and I apologize for any slight that we accidentally insinuated. Thank you for helping us and having us for dinner, but maybe we should go now". Both Don and I started to rise but Bo let an exasperated sigh escape his lips and said:

"Go where". Home? You don't have any food to speak of. You have no way to protect yourself. Do you think those two gang bangers will be the last people to challenge you for food or whatever else they decide they want. And when the little bit of food is gone, what do you do, sit down and wait for death.

I had eased myself back into the chair but Don was still standing resting his hands on the back of his chair, not knowing whether to stay or go. I knew our host was right. Barring a miracle, we'd both be dead in a week or two and the image of such an agonizing end was foremost in my mind. I could tell by looking at Don that he also realized our ultimate fate, so he asked with suspicion in his voice:

"What are you suggesting Mister Johnson?" We don't seem to have a whole bunch of options."

"For the moment, I suggest that you sit back down while I let the dogs in for their food. They take a whole lot better to folks who don't present a threat and a sitting position is less threatening. They'll both sniff around you for a while and Patsy, the Dobbie, may snarl a bit but she won't bite while I'm here. Elvis, the big guy, is actually a mush at heart. He won't bother you none, just wants to get acquainted, like."

"You ain't in no shape to go a wandering off in the dark so I suggest that after the beasts know that y'all are supposed to be here, you stay the night in one of the spare rooms upstairs and we talk in the mornin".

After our introduction to the dogs Bo handed me a couple of pills, and again, not speaking to Don directly, said:

"These are Tylenol with codeine. They will ease the pain and help him sleep.

I noticed that Mister Johnson's hokey, redneck way of speaking, came and went at will.

To be honest after the day's events I was afraid to go home and was grateful when my husband agreed to stay, "at least one night."

The surreal memory of the day's events caused me a restless night but the pills must

have worked for Don because he barely moved.

The sun didn't rise to wake me and for a moment I was disoriented, being in a strange bed with different surroundings. The day was overcast and there was a light rain tapping on the tin roof. When I glanced over Don was wide awake staring at the ceiling, apparently deep in thought.

When he looked at me there was sadness in his eyes as he spoke:

"I believe everything that Johnson said last night. This is no power outage, this could be Armageddon. Remember that movie we saw with Denzel Washington,

The Book of ---something or other. Yeah, The Book of Elijah, that was it."

"The problem is we don't have a destination like he did, or weapons or the skill to use them even if we had them. I'm not counting on Johnson's hospitality for too much longer and for the first time in my life I don't have a clue as to what to do. I feel helpless, I feel like I have let you down."

"There is nothing you could have done, nothing we could have done," I said as I reached for his hand. Before I could say more he continued vehemently:

"Yes, there is!" I remember reading a newspaper article awhile back and it mentioned this very possibility but I dismissed it out of hand as being some crazy right wing conspiracy theory, so I didn't even finish the article. If I had been more-clear headed and less biased I would have done a little research and maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"Honey, I replied sincerely, this isn't your fault. No one could predict this, no one"

"Bo Johnson did. "he said with a touch of bitterness. "The guy in the article did and I'd bet there are a lot of other people who got their heads out of their complacent asses before it was too late."

Don seemed almost despondent as we dressed to go downstairs the next morning and face whatever future we had left.

"Late risers." Bo said with a friendly smirk as we entered the kitchen. "Well, the weather has put a damper on my projects but god knows we need the water, so I held breakfast for y'all."