The Defiant: Grid Down Page 2

An unsettled feeling came over him. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what it was, but what he was seeing was something he’d never seen before.

  Over the past year and a half Nicholas had been insuring his family’s ultimate survival by gathering resources like extra water and long-term food supplies. All his life he had prepared financially, but the last few years he’d seen enough warning signs in the economy and geopolitically to know that the status quo would not remain like it was. This paranoia met with what he was witnessing and created a panic in him.

  He sprinted across the street and towards the pedestrian gate of his community, Rancho Del Sur, a collection of over two hundred Tuscan- and Mediterranean-style homes. He unlocked the gate and swung it wide open. As he ran past the gatehouse, he overheard the guard reassure a neighbor about the power outage.

  “Sir, as soon as our phones are back up, I’ll call triple A.”

  Nicholas’ heart was pounding furiously in his chest as he put one foot in front of the other, inching closer to his house. The realization that something horrible and universal had occurred was reinforced as he saw more neighbors outside their homes than he had ever seen. Many were walking around, mobile phones in their hands and the hoods of their cars up.

  “Nic, do you know what’s wrong?” an elderly woman hollered at him as he ran past.

  He stopped in front of her. “I don’t know. I’ve been gone, out for a run, but it looks like many people’s cars aren’t working,” he said.

  “My phones don’t work either and the electricity is off. Phil, the young attorney who lives next to me, can’t get his car started; he says it must be some terrorist attack or something.”

  “He may be right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home, check on my family,” Nicholas said and continued his run back.

  He made the front door but couldn’t get the key to line up with the lock, as his hands were shaking. Taking a moment, he took a couple deep breaths and said, “Relax.” He inserted the key and unlocked the door.

  Inside he encountered the same silence he had left an hour ago.

  Up the stairs he went.

  In the master bedroom his wife, Becky, lay sleeping. “Becky, get up, come on, time to get up.”

  Becky, his wife of eighteen years, mumbled, “Huh?”

  “Get up. Something’s happened; I need you to wake up,” he ordered, a slight panic in his voice. He bolted down the hall towards his daughter, Abigail’s room.

  Sleep had been something Becky hadn’t been able to have for years; in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had a good night’s sleep. Since before giving birth to Abigail over sixteen years ago, sleep had left her life, and she swore it was never coming back. At first she blamed Abigail, but now there was no one to blame but herself. Most evenings were spent lying in bed streaming television shows on her iPad until the early morning hours.

  Nicholas had told her it was stimulus that kept her from the much-needed sleep, but she argued with him.

  She didn’t disagree, but she’d never admit it. Their relationship had gotten to a sad point that she didn’t want him to be right about many things.

  “Abby, get up!” Nicholas shouted down the hallway of their two-story Tuscan-style home.

  Abigail didn’t move.

  “Abby, get up. Something is wrong!” Nicholas barked as he knocked on her locked door. “And no more locking the door.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m getting up!” Abigail hollered.

  Nicholas marched back towards his room and found Becky slowly moving around.

  “Something bad has happened. We need to get ready to leave,” Nicholas said, his voice an octave higher than normal.

  “Whoa, easy, you’re way too intense for so early,” Becky commented.

  “This isn’t a joke, and trust me, something bad has happened.”

  “Is the power out?” Becky grunted as she tapped repeatedly on the light switch in the bathroom.

  Nicholas walked in behind her and said, “That’s one part of it, but cars aren’t working, my phone is dead. Um, wait a minute,” he said and quickly left the room. “It’s the same.”

  “Same what?” Becky asked, her attention mainly on her reflection in the mirror.

  “My phone is dead, yours is too, and so is your iPad.”

  “Maybe we didn’t charge them.”

  “You’re not listening to me. No one’s car is working. This is some sort of attack against us.”

  “Honey, I told you, buy whatever survival stuff you want. You don’t have to justify it with me,” Becky said, splashing cool water on her face. Her comment referenced her disregard and sometimes contempt for Nicholas’ recent purchases of food, water and equipment primarily used by preppers and survivalists. She didn’t want anything to do with it, as she thought it silly and especially hated it when he would openly discuss his new views and hobbies with old friends. Often he would see her rolling her eyes and chiming in on the mocking and making fun of him with their skeptical friends. Her ambivalence had reached a critical point for Nicholas so that he stopped discussing things with her and just did whatever he wanted. This disappointed him, as he thought it would be fun if they could do it together, but he realized that after eighteen years of marriage, sometimes you didn’t grow together on all things.

  Nicholas shook his head and barked, “Becky, when you’re done, meet me downstairs.”

  San Diego, CA

  “Sophie! Get up; wake up. We’re late!” Bryn Salinger yelled as she scrambled around her bedroom getting dressed.

  Sophie cringed each time her sister yelled. Unable to move due to a pounding headache, she put a pillow over her head. Their last night together had been spent in typical fashion, drinking till the bars closed in Pacific Beach.

  Bryn, half dressed, stormed into the living room of her tiny apartment to discover Sophie still lying on the couch with the pillow covering her face. She walked over, snatched the pillow and tossed it across the room. “Get up; we’re late. The clock isn’t working, and by the looks of it outside, it’s well past eight. Now get up!”

  “Argh, my head hurts.” Sophie sighed.

  Bryn hurried back into the bedroom. “Where’s my phone? Have you seen it?”

  Sophie sat up and rubbed her eyes, looked and saw her own phone and said, “Found mine.” She pressed the home button, but nothing happened. She then hit the power button, but still the phone was dark. Unable to get it to work, she tossed it back on the table and fell back onto the sofa.

  Bryn rushed back out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “Where’s my phone?”

  “Bryn, don’t sweat it. I’ll take a later flight. There has to be more than one flight to San Francisco.”

  “I have other stuff to do today than be your chauffeur!” Bryn shot back.

  “Go, I’ll take a cab,” Sophie answered as she fell onto her side into the thick cushions of the couch. “Hey, did I get that guy’s number last night?”

  “Come on. Get up. I thought you said—”

  “Bryn, chill out. I’ll take a cab and get a later flight, just leave me some cash.”

  “Here it is!” Bryn exclaimed when she found her phone buried in her purse. She saw the screen was dark and tried to turn it on, but the phone remained dark. “Damn, it’s dead.” She hooked it up to the charger and walked into the bathroom. When she hit the light switch, the light stayed dark. “Oh, come on!”

  “Bryn, please stop yelling about everything. My head is pounding.”

  “What is going on? There must be a power outage,” Bryn said, then began to walk around the apartment, hitting every light switch only to find that the power was out. She walked to her phone, unplugged it and said, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to run to the car and charge this.”

  Opening the door brought in the late morning light and illuminated the reality that something else had happened. From the second-floor balcony she had a bird’s-eye view of the apartment complex parking lot, and there she saw the begi
nnings of what would become a very long day. Across the expansive lot was car after car with its hood up; people were milling around everywhere. Some were talking; others were under the hoods of the cars, fruitlessly attempting to get the cars operational. She hadn’t seen so many of her fellow neighbors collectively gathered much less all talking among themselves, ever.

  Her neighbor, a young woman named Crystal, pushed by her, holding her mobile phone up and cursing, “What the fuck!”

  Bryn leered at her as she rudely didn’t even take notice that she had brushed by her. Under her breath, she said, “I hate you.”

  “Oh, come on!” Crystal barked. She stopped looking at her phone and began to walk back to her front door when she took notice of Bryn and asked, “Is your phone working?”

  “No.”

  “What’s going on here? This is such bullshit!” Crystal growled. She was a tall, lean and attractive girl who Bryn remembered was her age, twenty-eight. She always kept her hair long, a platinum blonde. It hung down to the middle of her back and was rarely ever pulled back.

  Bryn swore she was either a stripper or escort based upon the way she dressed. She either wore yoga pants or was dressed up like she was clubbing it; either way, Bryn never saw her wear the boring and conservative attire she had to endure as a human resources assistant. However, the main reason she thought she did what she did was because of the endless parade of older men, some in their fifties, heading to her apartment. But then again, what did she know. Maybe she was just looking for a sugar daddy. Bryn found herself judging her but soon would back off when she realized she hadn’t lived a life without sin and sometimes people did whatever they felt they had to, but then again, she just couldn’t imagine stripping or selling her body.

  “Hello?” Crystal said loudly.

  “No, I don’t know what’s going on,” Bryn finally answered her; she wasn’t paying much attention to Crystal, as she was more focused on trying to figure out what strange thing had occurred.

  Bryn turned and went back inside her darkened apartment. She tossed open the shades, allowing the morning sun to chase away the darkness.

  “Really?” Sophie screamed as she turned away from the light.

  “Get up, something’s happened, get up!” Bryn exclaimed as she hurried into her bedroom to grab some shoes.

  Sophie sat up and looked out the large front window and squinted, “Oh, come on, just let me sleep. This isn’t a big deal. I’ll take a cab.”

  Bryn came back into the room and said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “Why are you being such a bitch this morning?”

  “I’m not; I’m being a big sister. Now get up. We need to find out if our car is working,” Bryn said as she snatched the car keys from a small bowl on the nightstand next to the front door and went back outside.

  Sophie looked at her and said, “You go do that.” She fell back onto the couch and covered her face with the blanket.

  Sycamore Grove, the apartment complex Bryn called home, consisted of twelve two-story tan stucco-sided buildings spread across three and a half acres. Each building housed twenty apartments, with each side having ten, five up and five down. The buildings formed a U-shape; a large swimming pool and community center were positioned in the middle. Concrete sidewalks connected all the buildings and their amenities. Surrounding all the buildings were small patches of grass, flowering plants, trees and shrubs.

  For San Diego standards, the complex was older, having been built in the 1990s, and the rents were modest, which fit into Bryn’s tight budget. She came from a well-to-do family but refused to take any money from her mother, as their relationship had become estranged since she left home at eighteen. For Bryn’s mother, the only thing she could do was give money, but what Bryn had always wanted was her time, which for her was too much to give. Bryn prided herself on being able to survive without her mother’s money, and even though she dreamt of living larger, she’d gladly wait till she could make it happen.

  Bryn made her way down to the parking lot that fronted her building with her keys in hand. She pressed the fob to unlock her bright green Kia Soul, but the lights didn’t flash like they normally did. That was her first clue that something was wrong and she had succumbed to the same fate as others had. She flipped the key out and inserted it into the door and manually unlocked the car. The second sign her car had become a victim was the dome light didn’t turn on. She climbed in, put the key in, and just before she turned it, she paused to say a little prayer, “Please turn on, please.” She turned the key, but nothing happened, not even a click. The car was dead. She tried again and again, foolishly hoping that with a random attempt the engine would roar to life, but it didn’t. Frustrated and now getting scared, she rested her head back, closed her eyes and began to think about what could cause something like this. She physically jumped when a tap on the window startled her; she looked and couldn’t make out who it was. She opened the door and got out, now irritated by whoever startled her. When she saw it was Matt Bessner, the thirty-something-year-old single geek who lived downstairs, she barked, “You scared the shit out of me!”

  “I’m sorry; I saw you and thought—”

  She slammed the car door and began to walk back to her apartment, ignoring him.

  Matt was thirty-three, but by the way he dressed, Bryn joked that he looked like he was thirteen. When not wearing his blue Best Buy polo, he could be seen sporting a variety of comic book character or Star Wars T-shirts.

  Bryn found him annoying; he was constantly trying to start up a conversation with her. She couldn’t escape him; whether she clearly looked busy or was in a hurry, he felt compelled to talk to her. She wanted to forgive him, as she knew he wasn’t a bad person, but she just couldn’t help but find his joyful persona a bit irritating. Some days she’d feel sorry for him, as she would see him walk to his car tugging awkwardly at one of his T-shirts in an attempt to hide his chubby belly. Behind his black glasses, unshaven stubble and coffee-stained teeth, she thought that if someone were to give him guidance, he just might clean up nicely.

  When he wasn’t working, Matt could be found in one of three places, at home playing video games, at the movie theater, or at the local Bennigan’s with his friends. It wasn’t that Matt lacked the ability or talent to work beyond his customer service representative position at Best Buy, he didn’t care. His main interests in life were games, science fiction and comic books. His job afforded him a place to keep up with the latest gadgets, and he loved the job, without a doubt.

  Seeing she was upset, he again apologized, “I’m sorry, really.”

  “Leave me alone, Matt.”

  “Don’t be mad at me, I really didn’t mean to scare you,” he begged now as he followed her.

  “Matt, please leave me the fuck alone. Unless you know what’s happened, I don’t have time,” she barked, holding her hand up as she strode away, not looking at him.

  He stopped and loudly said, “I know what happened.”

  This comment caused her to stop in her tracks; she turned and asked, “Really?”

  “Um, sure. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I have a really good guess,” he now said sheepishly.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s an EMP.”

  “A what?”

  “Electromagnetic pulse, it knocks out everything electronic. You see…” he said as he slowly walked towards her. His head was swimming with the details of all the shows, movies and video games that utilized such weapons.

  “This isn’t one of your science fiction, comic book things, is it?”

  “No, no, not at all, ahh, this has all the characteristics of an EMP for sure.”

  “How do you know?”

  He knew his answer might elicit scorn, but he said it anyway. “I’ve seen movies and such, and—”

  Bryn cut him off. “This isn’t one of your science-fiction movies.”

  “EMPs are real. In fact, they’re more science fact than fiction, but my
understanding is,” he said then paused.

  “What?”

  “An EMP doesn’t typically knock everything out. I mean, it’s not typically universal. Small devices not close to the blast radius would still work, like our phones, but they don’t, unless we were right below the blast.”

  “Blast?”

  “Yeah, blast. I mean, this couldn’t have been a CME; that wouldn’t have taken out the phones, only an EMP would do that,” he said. His speech increased in tempo as he rattled off detail after detail about EMPs and their capabilities.

  Bryn watched him as he divulged everything he knew about an EMP and what it could do. He cited different movies, commenting on how some were accurate in their depiction of EMPs and criticized others. He referenced video games she had never seen, played, much less ever heard of to bolster his knowledge of EMPs. Everything he was saying went right over her head, but if anyone would know what could do this, Matt just might be the guy.

  “This might be what you say, but all I keep hearing are movie titles and such.”

  “I know, I know, but I’ve done my own research on it. Don’t you see a movie then go and look up to see if it was real or not?”

  Bryn thought to herself that she had done that before, but she could only imagine to what lengths he might have gone to.

  “I played this game and it had—”

  “Enough about the games. Will anything work at all? Is this temporary?”

  “Um, no, an EMP fries everything, but like I said, I don’t know for sure, but it certainly looks like it could’ve been a big blast.”

  “So what does this mean? The police will come by soon, right?”

  “Unless they have different cars than we do, nope.”

  Bryn looked around. More people had come outside to look around and try to start their cars. She looked back at Matt, who stood looking at her like an eager puppy. “Well, isn’t this some shit.”

  Ten Miles North of San Felipe, Mexico

  The waves from the Sea of Cortez’s warm salty water ebbed and flowed over Michael’s body, now half buried in the beach’s sand.