“I don’t know. The farm is isolated enough to keep neighbors from walking over to say hi. Nearest house is at least a half mile down the road. They’re in their early seventies and don’t typically go anywhere during the week. They might not discover their car problem until they decide to grab lunch or dinner in Limerick.”
“But the power’s out. If they have solar, that should raise some questions,” said Charlie.
“They call me with all of those questions, and not by satphone. I guarantee they won’t figure out it was an EMP until they try to start the cars. Even then they might think the batteries died or something. Don’t be surprised if you deliver the bad news about the EMP when you arrive,” Alex said.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Linda asked.
“I think we’ll try to use the turnpike to reach Kittery, then maybe cross the bridge if it’s serviceable. If not, we’ll head west along the New Hampshire border and cross at the least crowded point. My goal is to reach 125 and take that until Kingston; then we’ll do a combination of 107 and 108 to Haverhill—”
“Haverhill? That’s a lot of people in one place,” Charlie remarked.
“I don’t think we can avoid Haverhill. We need to get over the Merrimack, and I’m not sure about crossing options east of Haverhill. This point,” he said, landing a pencil on Haverhill, “is about ten miles from the coast. Up here that wouldn’t be a problem, but based on the direction of the wave, wind and flash that I saw this morning the asteroid—if it
was
an asteroid—hit closer to the beach down here.”
“Going west would be way worse in terms of population,” muttered Ed. “You’ve got Lawrence and Lowell here.”
“What about trying to cross at West Newbury?” Kate suggested. “There has to be a way to get there without going through Haverhill. If the bridge is down, you can drive back to Haverhill.”
“Let me check on that,” Alex said.
He pulled a softbound map book of New England from his backpack and feverishly searched for the page with a detailed street map corresponding to the area Kate had pointed out on the larger map. He found the map and confirmed the validity of her idea.
“We have a couple of options to reach West Newbury from 108. If the bridge there is down, we could use East Broadway here,” he said, pointing to a road along the river, “to approach the Bates Bridge on the outskirts of Haverhill. Assuming the road isn’t washed out.”
“You’re welcome,” said Kate, smugly.
“You’re thanked,” replied Alex. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, Charlie, but I think we can work our way from Groveland to Reading without using Route 28.”
“Definitely, but once we hit Reading, we might as well take the 28. It won’t matter what road you’re on at that point. It starts to get crowded.”
“Should we ditch the car before Reading?” asked Alex.
“Ditch the
car
?” said nearly everyone at the same time.
“What? We can’t drive Ed’s Jeep into Boston. We wouldn’t last fifteen minutes,” said Alex.
Ed asked him, “How far are we going to walk?”
“I guess it depends on where we stash the car. I was hoping for something between five and eight miles.”
“Reading’s a lot further than that. We’d be useless by the time we reached the Charles,” said Ed.
“We can’t risk taking your jeep into a high-density population area. Too many variables we can’t control without seriously heating up these barrels,” he said, reaching over to his rifle set against the wall, “which would make the situation worse.”
“How can it get worse?” Ed asked.
“Shooting solves your most immediate problem, but the problem usually comes back really quickly. We’ll be slower on foot, but we won’t have a giant bull’s-eye painted on us. More people probably live in Medford and Cambridge combined than the entire greater Portland area—and they all want out of the city. Ed’s Jeep will quickly become the talk of the town, which is likely to put us in an untenable situation.”
“Fuck it. I’m in,” Charlie announced, rising over the table to examine the map. “No need to stop before Reading. We’re talking mostly suburbs. Stoneham’s a little more packed, but it doesn’t get really busy until Medford. See this right here?” Everyone stood up and leaned over the table to see where Charlie was pointing. “Middlesex Fells Reservation. We could easily stash the Jeep somewhere in the forest about a quarter of a mile from the northern edge of Medford. If the trees are still standing.”
“True,” Alex agreed. “We really have no idea how bad it is down there. We’ll bring the Jeep to the edge of Medford and figure out how to hide it. If the forest is a no-go, we might have to sit back and wait until dark to hide the Jeep near the city.”
“Tomorrow night? Now we’re talking about tomorrow night?” Samantha said nervously. “That’s more than twenty-four hours. I think you guys should leave tonight. Take the Jeep straight through to the kids. You’ll be back by tomorrow morning at the latest. I’m worried that you’re overthinking this, Alex. Our kids are waiting. They’re probably wondering why we haven’t shown up yet. The longer we delay this, the worse it’ll get out there.”
“We can’t leave tonight. If the police confiscate our vehicle, we’re screwed. Not to mention all the other gear they’re not likely to let us keep,” said Alex.
“What if they’re still confiscating vehicles tomorrow—and the next day? How long are we going to wait?”
“If they’re simply replacing the disabled vehicles in their fleet, we should be safe by tomorrow. If they’re still yanking cars off the street tomorrow, then we’re dealing with something else.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Regardless of their reason, what’s your plan if they’re not done taking vehicles tomorrow morning?” she demanded.
“I’m headed to Boston tomorrow to get our children. Nothing is going to get in the way of that. Are we all good with that?” said Alex, shifting his stare between Charlie and Ed.
“I’m good,” said Charlie.
“Me too. God help us,” said Ed.
“We’ll get the kids back, Samantha. No matter what it takes. We just can’t leave tonight. I need time with your husband and Charlie to work out the details, rig the gear, game plan all of the scenarios. If we were having this conversation at ten in the morning, I’d consider giving it a try.”
“Sorry to jump on you like that, Alex. I’m just worried about the kids.”
“I’m right there with you, Sam,” said Kate. “No need to apologize.”
“Samantha, you should have heard Kate on the walk back from the yacht club,” said Alex, trying to break the tension. “She wanted me to take a right on Harrison Road and continue walking to Boston. I managed to find a few flaws in that plan.”
“You looked like you needed a break, so I relented,” Kate said, winking.
Everyone laughed at Kate’s comment, including Alex.
“We have a lot of prep work to do. Bicycles, backpacks, and weapons are first priority. The rescue group needs two packs. One BOLT bag and a smaller assault kit—”
“What’s an assault kit?” asked Ed. “I don’t have stuff like that.”
“It’s just a smaller backpack, like this,” said Alex, lifting up the dark green, nylon backpack from the side of his chair.
“We’ll use these when we leave the car to get the kids. Nothing but the basics. Ammo, water, limited food, first aid kit…it’s all here on the sheets.”
“Why pack two bags?” asked Linda.
“The BOLT bags are for situations requiring us to permanently abandon the Jeep. We’ll be able to continue on foot with enough supplies to get us to our destination,” Alex explained.
“What if that happens before you reach Boston?”
“The mission remains the same. Get the kids and get back to Limerick. The only parameter that changes is the length of time it takes to accomplish the mission. Could be twelve hours, could be twelve days.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this, Charlie?” Linda asked her husband.
“Of course I’m up for this! What the hell are you talking about?”
“If the car dies in Sanford, Maine, you’re looking at what,” she made a quick calculation using the map, “a hundred and fifty mile round trip on foot?”
“Then I’ll finally lose that last ten pounds!”
“What about your knee—and your back?”
“I’ll bring my knee wrap and back brace, along with plenty of pain meds. I hike through the woods for days on end up in the county looking for deer. I’ll be fine. It’s these two beach strollers I’m worried about—gotcha there, guys,” said Charlie.
“We’ll take good care of your husband, Linda,” said Ed.
“You better. It’s not like I can easily replace him at this point, especially with the Internet down,” she said, causing another round of laughter.
Alex took a long swig of beer and gently set the empty bottle on the table.
“One last thing. Actually two last things. First, the backpack list doesn’t leave a lot of room for personal items. My daughter has already started to collect stuff to bring along, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most of it wasn’t coming. We’re all in the same boat with kids—and ourselves. If things start to normalize, we can always come back for stuff—”
“If the houses haven’t been ransacked,” said Kate.
“Right. Each family should put together a duffel bag with stuff they want to bring to the farm, beyond the few items you can fit in your packs. We can stuff those bags in the Jeep. Nothing huge. Gym bag or backpack sized,” he said, and everyone nodded. “The last thing is the most important. I noticed people outside, and it sounds like Charlie has been helping other neighbors to move bodies. We need to minimize contact with the neighbors, and keep our packing efforts a secret. We’ll have to move all the gear over to Ed’s at night. Our departure tomorrow needs to remain a secret. I can’t stress that enough. It sounds cold, but it’s our reality. We all have friends in the neighborhood, and for the most part, they should be fine once the basements drain. We did our part after the pandemic. Most of the neighbors have stockpiled food and supplies. I can’t run a neighborhood refugee camp out at my parents’ farm. It’s as simple as that.”
Alex didn’t sense any problem with his last statement. They all understood the gravity and reality of the situation. Even with a sizable food stockpile and the ability to filter water, life would be extremely difficult in the neighborhood. Most home foundations were more than likely cracked. Some would collapse. The epic scale of this disaster guaranteed that nothing would be restored or repaired for several months, eventually forcing most people to migrate or face a brutal winter with meager supplies and limited essential services. He could envision massive FEMA camps established to handle the overflow of humanity fleeing New England, followed by disease, starvation and depravity. Nobody at the Walkers’ kitchen table wanted to stick around for that end game.
“Then it’s a done deal,” said Ed decisively. “We pack up and wait for dark to bring it over.”
“We’ll throw dinner together once everyone arrives. Try to use up whatever’s left in the refrigerators and pantries,” said Samantha.
“Perfect. We should spend some time talking about Boston before heading back right now,” Alex said to Ed and Charlie.
“The other group needs to do the same, but it’ll have to wait until tonight. Too many people to gather in one place at one time without arousing suspicion. Durham Road may look quiet, but I guarantee people are watching every square inch of the neighborhood. We should also plan to use the upstairs. I wouldn’t feel secure gathering the family at night,” said Alex.
He distinctly remembered the fear he had developed of roaming the ground floor of his house six years ago, with murderous psychopaths prowling the neighborhood. The obvious presence of a large gathering might attract attention tonight, as households recuperated from the initial shock of having their normal lives ripped out from under them. From what he could tell so far, the neighbors had kept to themselves, nobody quite certain what to think or do under the circumstances beyond clean out their house and take stock of the situation. Some of them had banded together to remove the bodies deposited on the street by the tsunami, but that appeared to be the limit of cooperation to this point. Tomorrow would be very different, especially after the harsh reality of the EMP’s long-term impact had time to sink in.
Chapter 19
EVENT +15:47 Hours
Scarborough, Maine
Alex lifted Kate’s mountain bike up by the center crossbar and tucked his left elbow tightly against his side, balancing the aluminum monster in his left hand. He’d already ferried Emily’s bike across the thickening, bug-infested field of muck separating the two houses. The Thorntons had arrived at the back of their house just as he returned from the first trip twenty minutes later.
“Everyone set?” he asked, glancing at the shadows in front of the closed bulkhead door.
“Lead the way, sir,” said Charlie.
Alex stepped out of the garage and into the deeper mud behind his house. “Let’s go.”
The steps were slow, each threatening to suck the shoes off his feet. He’d stuffed his only pair of hiking boots in his backpack, opting for the running shoes he kept in the mudroom closet. The rest of the family’s boots were underwater in a fifty-gallon storage bin somewhere in the basement. The added weight of his assault pack buried his shoes deeper, causing him to cautiously lift his feet out of the greedy muck.
Halfway across the yard, he saw the slow progress and had second thoughts about their plan to have Kate’s group haul the bicycles to the fire station. Everyone had given up trying to keep the bikes out of the mud. They would have to rethink this part of the plan.
Ed’s hitch-mounted bike rack could take four bicycles. They could throw two on top and try to carry the other three with their arms outside of the windows. It would be a complete clusterfuck, but they only needed to drive two minutes with all of the bicycles. The Jeep had an automatic transmission, so Ed could theoretically hold one of the bikes with his left arm. Alex knew that wasn’t going to work.
They’d have to make two trips, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid, but he didn’t see any way around it. There was no way this group would make it to the fire station pushing bicycles through the muck without thoroughly exhausting themselves in advance of a thirty-five-mile bike ride.