36 Hours: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (11 page)

“Oh, okay. I didn’t realize,” she started. She reached for the gun and asked, “Do I pay you or up front on the way out.”

This caused an uproar of laughter behind her. Madison had never contemplated buying a gun, so she was completely unaware of the procedure. She thought that showing the checkout clerk her driver’s license and social security card would be sufficient. People voted and received government welfare with less identification.

“Ma’am, you’ll need to fill out this Form 4473 required by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. We’ll submit the form on your behalf, and you should be able to pick up your weapon in five to seven business days.”

“When?” she asked.

“Five to seven business days, ma’am,” the clerk responded. “There is a tremendous backlog in background checks, at both the state and federal level.”

Madison got frustrated. She didn’t need a gun in five to seven business days. She needed it now. If nothing happened by tomorrow, then she probably wouldn’t need one at all.

“Don’t you have any guns I can buy today?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied. “Everything requires a background check.”

She looked at the salesclerk in disbelief and walked away.

She gathered herself and sought out the stacks of ammunition on tables near the gun counter. The inventory levels were dwindling. She found the shotgun shells and was dumbfounded. She had no idea which ones would work in their shotgun, so she purchased a variety and decided to let Colton figure it out.

After picking up a dozen boxes of slugs and buckshot, she filled her cart with some compact nutrition bars called MRE food rations, which contained three thousand six hundred calories each. She purchased a medical kit, some camping gear, and then she came across a device called a LifeStraw.

She thought about the ramifications of a major power outage. Would Nashville’s Metro Water Service be able to distribute water without power? It was so easy to get dehydrated. Her sparkling pool came to mind. The pump and filter system wouldn’t work, but the water could be purified. The LifeStraw packaging claimed to remove virtually all bacteria, and it surpassed standards for water filters. She could filter two hundred and fifty gallons with each device. She couldn’t calculate how long that would last them, but she hoped three would do the trick.

Finally, while she waited in line, she thought about her favorite television show on CBS—
Survivor
. Making fire was always a challenge. She saw some emergency fire starter flints on an end cap of the register. She grabbed the last four of them.

Madison was on her way to being a prepper.

Chapter 19

11 Hours

12:38 p.m., September 8

Dallas Cowboys Training Facilities

Ford Center at The Star

Frisco, Texas

One of his attorneys leaned over and whispered to Colton, “Have you heard about this solar flare thing? I guess a lot of flights are being rerouted, and now they’re talking about potential power outages.”

“Where did you hear that?” Colton whispered back. “Is it something official—out of Washington?”

“Nah, just news reports,” he replied. “But you know how they can get. When there isn’t some political scandal to talk about, they grab onto any kind of drama to boost ratings.”

Colton thought for a moment and then pulled his iPhone out of his jacket pocket. He finished the glass of water he had been nursing. He decided to look online for himself.

The first stop was FoxNews.com, but it yielded nothing. There was a brief mention in a video article about the potential for northern lights into the American Heartland, but no details. Then he went to his bookmark for the Drudge Report.

Jerry Jones paraded out Dez Bryant, Tony Romo, and former University of Tennessee star Jason Witten to meet the contingent as lunch concluded. Colton wanted to meet Witten
,
who had become one of the top tight ends in the NFL, but he was intent on finding an update. Drudge had a tendency to sensationalize his headlines to grab attention, so it was necessary to read the actual article he aggregated. One headline read
The Heat is ON
. Another simply read
ANGRY!

He clicked on the second article and navigated his finger across the iPhone’s screen to CBSNews.com, which read
Newest Hole in the Sun is a Doozy
. It was updated eleven minutes ago and contained the latest imagery from NASA.

Colton glanced through the article, oblivious to his surroundings.
New—and massive—coronal hole has developed on the sun’s surface, NASA announced today
.
This coronal hole will be responsible for high-speed solar winds coupled with solar particles, which are expected to collide with Earth sometime Thursday evening. Potentially ruinous effects on orbiting satellites and geo-positioning systems are likely. Travelers are urged to take caution and be aware that flights are being rerouted or canceled altogether per the FAA
.

It was the last paragraph of the article that struck Colton.
Why do the news media feel it’s necessary to downplay potential threats to our safety? Do they not think we can handle the truth?
The paragraph read
but the solar winds aren’t all bad. They’re also responsible for the beautiful auroras that will grace our skies this evening at latitudes as low as Oklahoma and Tennessee
.

Tennessee!
That’s it. Am I overreacting? Something is screaming—GET READY!

He was furiously texting Madison now. It was simple, and Colton doubted she would push back at his suggestion.

C: 911! Pull Alex out of school now! Get extra food. Be careful.

Chapter 20

10 Hours

1:00 p.m., September 8

Oval Office, The White House

Washington, DC

The President stood behind her desk and stared out onto the south lawn of the White House complex. There were no activities today, and she had planned an afternoon with her daughter and two grandchildren. Her husband was fund-raising on Long Island, which gave her the opportunity to unwind. She was having difficulty separating his former presidency from hers.

Despite the earlier briefing, she didn’t find a need to alter her schedule. But her Chief of Staff sent her an urgent message, so she made her way to the Oval Office to meet with key members of her national security team.

“Madame President, I apologize for interrupting your afternoon, but an update has been received from NOAA and NASA that requires your attention.”

“Fine, go ahead,” she bristled. “I’ve planned this day with my grandchildren and daughter for weeks. This better be important.”

“It is, Madame President,” he started.

She quickly turned around and sat in her chair. She motioned for the rest of the national security team to take seats as well. Her Chief of Staff handed her the updated report, and she glanced through it.

“These are the updated projections of a coronal mass ejection emitted from Active Region 3222 at approximately zero four hundred. Based on satellite analysis, an accurate prediction analysis has been created.”

“Plain English, please,” she said. “What exactly are we facing here?” She tossed the report on her desk and leaned back in her chair, clasping her fingers together across her stomach.

Secretary Sullivan replied, “In the next ten hours, the northern hemisphere of our planet will absorb the full brunt of an X58 solar flare with an accompanying coronal mass ejection greater than any in recorded history. There is a high probability our nation’s critical infrastructure will be severely damaged.”

“Kathryn, how is this information different from this morning’s NSA briefing?” she asked.

“Madame President, the timing of these events determines the impact on Earth. As of eight this morning, we were able to provide a fairly accurate analysis of the strength of the incoming solar ejection. Now, with an additional four hours of data, we can predict the probable sphere of impact.”

“Don’t leave me hanging here,” said the President, growing impatient.

Secretary Sullivan continued. “Based on Earth’s relative positioning and our proximity to the fall equinox, we are predicting a direct hit to the northern hemisphere around twenty-three hundred hours.”

The President remained silent for a moment. She spun in her chair and glanced out into the Rose Garden. “Do we have a protocol for this?”

“We do, Madame President,” replied Secretary Blumenthal. “The Space Weather Preparedness Strategy, or SWPS, was adopted by the prior administration in late 2015 to prepare, respond to, and recover from potentially devastating space weather events.”

“That’s admirable,” she interrupted. “What do the guidelines suggest?”

“The first step establishes the magnitude of the space weather event, and then we craft a response at the federal, state, and local level. Protection efforts would include assuring continuity of government, minimizing risks to our critical national infrastructure, and managing societal reaction to the event’s aftermath.”

“Well, at this point, I hardly see a need to implement martial law.” She laughed in her own unique way. “I think it’s important to figure out how we notify appropriate agencies without causing widespread panic. We do have to do everything we can, however.”

“Madame President, if I may,” interjected her Chief Political Advisor. “There is an action plan in place per the SWPS. Whether the next ten hours is sufficient time to implement it is not for me to decide. At this point, the media is beginning to drive the narrative. The British print media led the way early this morning, and now the cable news outlets are parading their experts out to the televisions of millions of Americans.”

“Okay, I get it,” said the President. “We need to issue a statement, and I assume you have a draft copy in the works.”

“I do,” he replied.

“Then how do we issue a public warning without causing widespread panic?”

“This is an issue that has been raised regarding the threat of near-Earth objects, NEOs, like asteroids,” replied Secretary Sullivan. “A key issue associated with the hazard from NEOs is that the length of time needed to implement a mitigation plan is affected by the accuracy of the trajectory of the NEO. In the case of a solar flare, whether a geomagnetic storm warning should be issued or not depends on the data received from our satellites. In this case, we were given nearly twenty hours’ notice of the solar event, but only ten hours’ notice of the probability of impact.”

“In other words, if we issue the order to prepare prematurely, we could unduly cause fear to the public,” said the President. “But if we wait too long, then the mitigation strategy will be for naught.”

“Madame President, I’ve been in contact with Dr. Dennis Mileti, a professor at the University of Colorado at Boulder,” said Secretary Sullivan. “He’s been a consultant to the SWPC in Boulder.”

“What does he think?” the President asked.

Secretary Sullivan summarized. “Dr. Mileti is of the opinion there are several myths associated with providing the general public warning of an impending disaster. The first myth is panic. He believes the fear of instilling public panic has repeatedly constrained providing an endangered public with effective warnings. It typically leads to downplaying risks, which robs the public of both the time and the motivation they need to act.”

“People panic easily,” interjected the Chief Political Advisor. “If we issue a warning that the world is coming to an end because the sun is having a bad day and nothing happens, we’ll lose credibility. Do I need to remind everyone of the public perception hit we took after cancelling the Daytona 500?”

“We have to craft a measured response to the
experts
that are hitting the news networks,” replied Secretary Sullivan. “I can call a press conference and issue a statement that exudes control and composure while providing the facts as we know them. If the media doesn’t sense panic, it won’t hit the airwaves to create panic. Perhaps we can invite the White House press corps to photograph and observe the President playing with her grandkids.”

“Good idea,” said the President. She swiveled and looked out into the beautiful, sunny day. “I’ll play ball with them on the South Lawn for a photo op. You know, just another day.”

“Okay, I can sign off on that,” said the Chief Political Advisor, turning his attention to Secretary Sullivan. “But keep your statement terse—simple language and just a few words.”

“With all due respect,” started Secretary Sullivan. “I think that’s a mistake. I can’t tell the American people they are at risk and then not give them sufficient information to create an informed decision. They will turn to the media for answers, and that will ramp up the speculation.”

The conversation was now becoming heated. The Chief Political Advisor shot back, “You can’t cry wolf either. If this solar flare does nothing but cause a lot of pretty colors in the sky and you take us to the functional equivalent of DEFCON 2, the public will never respond to our warnings again. What if the Russians fire off a nuke and the public ignores our alerts?”

“Then we’ll deal with that if it happens. I’m telling everyone in this room that AR3222 has delivered its own nuclear payload, and it’s headed right for us. Whether our country is hit by a Russian nuke or this massive CME, the result is the same—lights out!”

Chapter 21

10 Hours

1:00 p.m., September 8

Davidson Academy

Nashville, Tennessee

Madison hurried through the security checkpoint inside the entrance of Davidson Academy and started down the hallway to where she thought Alex’s algebra class was located. The security guard hollered after her.

“Mrs. Ryman!” the guard shouted. “You’ll need to stop by the principal’s office first and state your reason for being here. Most likely, you’ll be accompanied by a guidance counselor to your daughter’s room.”