The End Boxset: Postapocalyptic Visions of an Unstoppable Collapse (17 page)

Jeremy grabbed some Gatorade from one of the freezers and proceeded to the snack aisle. “My truck broke down about three miles down the road. I need to call a tow truck.”

“Wish I could help you, son, but the phones ain’t workin’ neither,” Bill said.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked.

Bill picked up the receiver of a landline telephone next to his counter. “
I mean
that they ain’t workin’. No dial tone. Nothing.”

Jeremy reached into his pocket for a cell phone and remembered that he didn’t have one. The earlier blast that knocked him on the ground had disoriented him. There was certainly something unusual about the entire scenario, but Jeremy couldn’t tell if this was an indication of anything serious or just a “brownout” as Bill had suggested.

“I hope that you’re paying cash for those items, because our credit card machine ain’t workin’ worth a shit,” Bill said.

“Yeah I have cash,” Jeremy said while approaching the counter. He removed his bug-out bag and searched in the front pocket for a zipper bag full of cash. Having cash on-hand was one of the basic steps in prepping, along with medical papers and a passport. Though Jeremy wasn’t rich, he took half of the five thousand that he had in his bank account and carried it with him.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Let me see here. You’ll have to excuse me on account of not having my scanner handy.” Bill looked at the items and did his best to add the total. “Three Gatorades and a bag of chips, that’ll be five dollars and thirty five cents.”

Jeremy handed him a ten. Bill looked at him suspiciously. “You from around here?” he asked taking the money. 

“I’m from out of state. Just doing some sightseeing,” Jeremy replied.
“Let me see if I can do this,” Bill said looking at the cash register in confusion. He pried open the drawer and pulled out the change owed to Jeremy. Just then, the man from outside burst into the store.

“What in the hell is goin’ on with your gas pump, Bill?” he asked, clearly irate.

“Power went out, Rodney,” Bill said.

Jeremy took the change, put it in his pocket, and threw the bug-out bag over his shoulder.

“Well that’s a load of horse shit!” Rodney shouted.

“Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it until the power comes back on, my friend,” Bill said.

Rodney paced throughout the store, agitated and on the brink of an outburst. Several thoughts entered Jeremy’s mind. One, someone had severed the power source to the town. Two, it was a freak accident. Three, it was an Electromagnetic pulse (EMP) attack. The third thought remained in his head as he blocked out the ensuing argument between Bill and Rodney. He quickly grabbed his items from the counter and exited the store.

“Have a good one, travelin’ man,” Bill said from his stool at the counter.

Jeremy waved and made his way outside. Suddenly Rodney stormed out of the store angrier than before. He kicked the gas pump and jumped into his station wagon. When he turned the key a clicking sound followed, nothing more. “What the fuck!” he shouted, hitting the dashboard.

“Your car won’t start?” Jeremy asked.

Rodney tried again and again, to no avail. “It sure as shit won’t,” Rodney answered.

Jeremy paced the parking lot of the store in deep thought. Where was he to go? What was he to do?

“Need to find someplace safe,” Jeremy said to himself.

“What?” Rodney asked from the passenger seat of his car.

“Something’s wrong. This is no normal power outage.”

“Well my car ain’t startin'.”

“Do you live near here?” Jeremy asked.

“About two miles up the road,” Rodney said.

“I think we’re under attack. They have these bombs that disable the electrical grids of entire cities. This could very serious.”

“Who does? What are you talking about? I’m gonna need to call a tow truck now,” Rodney said, disinterested.

“The phones aren’t working either,” Jeremy said.

Rodney looked up from his steering wheel. “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine? Guess I’ll have to fix it myself,” he said. With that, Rodney popped his hood and got out of his car.

As Rodney examined the engine, Jeremy turned towards the road. Miles ahead he noticed cars stopped dead in their tracks. A four-door Ford Focus sat only fifty yards up the road with a middle-aged woman at the wheel turning her key again and again.

In all his preparation, Jeremy couldn’t believe it what he was seeing. It was a breakdown of the most fundamental elements: electricity and mobility. There would be no tow truck or repair. However, Jeremy wanted to believe that if he could get a radiator hose, he could repair his truck and continue his travels. Rodney’s distant shouts of frustration filled the air. Jeremy turned around realizing that he would have to take what he needed from someone. A radiator hose is a radiator hose. If it didn’t work and if vehicles had truly been rendered inoperable then he would find an alternative path. He would need to take Rodney’s radiator hose one way or the other. Or perhaps he could find the solution from the woman in her car. The day hadn’t even started and Jeremy was pondering a “survival of the fittest” approach. And there was no better time for survivalist tendencies than now.

The End: Book 3

Chapter 1: Jeremy Rafelson: Stranded in West Virginia 

In a small town outside Charleston, West Virginia, Jeremy Rafelson pondered his next move. He was stranded in a town he didn't want to be in. His truck had broken down, after the radiator hose blew out. There was no electricity at the gas station, the phone lines were down, and he had no way to contact a tow truck.  Next to the gas pumps, Rodney, a frustrated driver, examined his car engine, after it failed to start only a few moments ago. From a few feet away, Jeremy could hear intensified mumbling as Rodney leaned under the hood searching in vain for a solution. Rodney's back was turned to Jeremy making him exposed and vulnerable. It would take only a quick slam of the hood over Rodney's head and then Jeremy could take the very radiator hose needed for his truck. “Why wasn't Rodney's car working?” Jeremy wondered. What about all the other cars? What about
his
car? He slowly approached Rodney's station wagon. The pebbles beneath his hiking boots crackled with each step. His movement went largely unnoticed by Rodney, who was far too invested in the engine to be aware of anything else.

“Shit!” Rodney said, “Shit! Shit! Shit.” He checked his oil dipstick, the transmission, sparks, and wires. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. But on closer inspection, the main computer board of his station wagon seemed completely fried. Rodney noticed the blackened circuitry. “Well, damn. This could be the problem right here,” he said out loud to himself.  

Jeremy neared, pondering his next move. He wasn't completely sure that the radiator hose would even match the one he needed. But hoses were pretty much all the same, right? Jeremy moved to Rodney's side. It would be perfect. No witnesses. A clueless clerk sitting in his dimly lit store, none the wiser. A confused woman paced around her Ford Focus fifty yards up the road. Rodney continued to inspect the electrical wiring of the car, intently focused on the master board panel. Jeremy glanced around as he placed his hands on the engine hood above him. Rodney leaned deeper into the engine, blissfully unaware of Jeremy's presence. Suddenly, the front door of the shop swung open, revealing the store clerk, Bill. “You gonna move that boat of yours, or what?” he asked Rodney.

Rodney lifted his head upon hearing Bill. Jeremy removed his hand from the engine hood immediately. “I can't get it started, so get off my back,” Rodney billowed.

“Well put 'er in neutral and push 'er away from my pumps. I got a business to run here,” Bill said.

Rodney removed himself from the engine and faced Bill. “Business?” he said. “Your power don't work. Phones don't work. Damn gas pumps don't work. This place is runnin' as good as a three legged dog.”

“I appreciate your input, Rodney, but how about you just move your car 'way from my pumps already.”

“You deaf? I said the pumps don't work, shithead!” Rodney shouted.

“Nothing works,” Jeremy said, cautiously stepping away from Rodent’s engine. “This is something I'd advise both of you to take seriously.”

Bill stepped closer, with a cockeyed glance in Jeremy's direction, and then looked to Rodney. “What the hell is he talking about?”  

“I don't know. He's been talkin' about some invisible bomb taking out all the computers,” Rodney said, “It don't explain why my car ain't working though.”

“And the phone line,” Bill added.

Jeremy lashed out at both men. “All of those things are connected. Don't you see it? Cars, electricity, phones, everything we have. It's all been destroyed!”

Bill and Rodney stared at Jeremy, bewildered. It was clear that there wasn't going to be an immediate bond between them. Instead, they remained obtuse. 

“Who are you, anyway?” Bill asked.

“Nobody. I'm just passing through town, like I said earlier.”

“So how do you know so much?” Rodney interjected.

“I don't know anything really. But I've read about this scenario. It's not all that outlandish really. There's all types of reports on it. It's called an electromagnetic pulse. A bomb meant to wipe out our electronic equipment. I can't say that's what's happened for sure, but there's a real possibility.”

For once in his life, he was making sense. At least to himself. And Bill and Rodney were hanging on his every word. He was the source of information, which made him feel somewhat an authority figure.  Granted, Bill and Rodney weren't the sharpest tools in the box, but they were listening to him nonetheless. Up the street, the woman left her car behind and neared the store on foot. Jeremy was the noticed her while Bill and Rodney faced the opposite direction. “So how do you know this stuff then?” Bill asked.

“I just read about it, that's all,” Jeremy replied.

“I read the paper every day, and I ain't heard a thing about what you’re saying,” Bill said.

“You aren't going to hear about it in the
Charleston Gazette
—“

“I read
The New York Times
, thank you,” Bill interrupted.  

“Well, you probably aren't going to read about it in there either, frankly,” Jeremy said.

“So you're the expert now, huh?” Rodney asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “I'm just telling you what I think. If you have any other ideas, go ahead and share them.” “It's a brownout,” Bill said.

Jeremy scoffed. Before he could reply, the woman entered their circle. She was slightly heavy set and middle-aged. Her red, tangled hair was a mess, no doubt from her exhaustion from the heat-ridden day. Her square-rimmed glasses were slightly titled at an angle on her freckled face. “Can one of you boys help me? I need to call a tow truck,” she asked, between heavy breaths.

Rodney looked her up and down. “Get in line, lady,” he belted out with a laugh.

“It's the strangest thing,” she said, reaching into her pocket, “My cell phone's not working at all. It's completely dead, just like my car.” She pulled out her cell phone, an older model by Jeremy's estimations, and showed it to the group.

A dead cell phone was intriguing to Jeremy, but something else from afar had gained his attention.  Miles ahead from where the woman ventured, Jeremy saw people walking down the two lane highway towards the store. He suspected that this was the only stop for miles, as he had done the same thing when his truck broke down. But maybe, just maybe, there was a small chance he could still get his truck started amidst all the confusion. Perhaps it was all just a series of coincidental circumstances, mixed with the “brownout” that Bill believed responsible for the lack of power. Jeremy's wasn't sure. Only time would tell. 

“What's the problem with your car?” Bill asked the woman.

“I was just driving along, and next thing I knew I was on the side of the road and my car was dead,” she said. Bill shifted one foot across the ground kicking a pebble across the road, followed by a heap of tobacco spit from his mouth.

“We can go inside and try the phones if you want. Powers been out, along with the phone lines for the past ten minutes or so,” Bill said.

The woman expressed relief upon Bill's offer of assistance. She rubbed the sweat from her brow. “Oh thank you so much. I really need to get back on the road as soon as possible,” she said.

Bill led the woman into the store. Rodney looked around for a moment, then walked towards the front entrance of the store. “I'm comin' in too. I need a soda or something,” he said.

Once the shop entrance door closed, things got quiet. Jeremy stood next to Rodney's station wagon thinking. He needed a plan. A purpose. Someway to deal with what was going on. The silence helped him think. It helped him realized that through all of this, he was going to be alone. In close proximity, glistening in the sun, was Rodney's radiator hose. Its length was far more elaborate than Jeremy had estimated, but it still looked relatively simple to remove. He just needed a screwdriver to remove the clamps at both ends.

There wasn’t toolbox nearby, so Jeremy had to improvise. He set his bag to the gravel, opened one of the front pockets, and retrieved a Leatherman Gerber multi-tool. He flipped through the components on the tool and soon found the right one that he needed, a flat-head screwdriver bit. Jeremy glanced ahead. The few approaching drivers, moving dots at the end of the road, were still at least a mile or two away. He looked to the store. The group was still inside, probably making small talk and cursing the fact that the phones were still out. Jeremy stood over the engine, and prepared his Gerber. He worked the first screw diligently; twisting and twisting until he could get it lose. The tool kept slipping from the screw, as Jeremy had to continually re-align it.