36 Hours: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (9 page)

“A direct hit?” asked one of the attendees.

“My god!” exclaimed another.

Lemmon continued. “The impact of the CME will generate huge electrical currents in Earth’s upper atmosphere. More likely than not, the areas closest to the poles will be hit with large currents that will be transferred into electrical substations and disbursed throughout the power grid. It will have the impact of several nuclear electromagnetic bombs detonated over America simultaneously.”

“An EMP?”

“Yes, General.”

“Have you been able to measure the strength of the CME?” asked the Chief of Staff.

“We have, sir,” replied Lemmon. “For the technical aspects and potential effects of the impact for this solar event, I need to defer to Dr. Andrea Stanford of the Atacama Large Millimeter Array, or ALMA, located in northern Chile.” Once again, Lemmon instructed the aide to manipulate the screens in the Situation Room. Dr. Stanford appeared on three of them, although the static reception made it difficult to see her.

“Hello,” said Dr. Stanford, whose audio was working fine, but the video was experiencing interference.

“Dr. Stanford, thank you for joining us,” said Lemmon. “Due to the interference we’re experiencing on this end, we’ll dispense with the preliminaries. The first question for you is whether you have been able to measure the strength of the inbound coronal mass ejection?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dr. Stanford. “The CME will generate a geomagnetic storm, which is measured in disturbance storm time, or Dst. In layman’s terms, this describes how hard a CME shakes up Earth’s magnetic field. A typical Dst will be equal to negative fifty on the nanotesla scale. As you can tell by this transmission, the earth is experiencing the effects of a negative fifty influence at this time. Several decades ago, the worst geomagnetic storm ever recorded caused power outages across Quebec, Canada. The 1989 event registered a negative six hundred on the nanotesla scale.”

Lemmon moved toward the microphone and directed a question to Dr. Stanford. “I realize we didn’t have sophisticated instruments in the nineteenth century, but are you able to provide us an estimate of the strength of the Carrington Event? Most of us know the effect on the nation’s limited telegraph system.”

“Yes,” started Dr. Stanford. “Several modern studies estimate the strength of the September 1859 geomagnetic storm to be in the range of negative eight hundred to negative seventeen hundred. That’s triple the 1989 storm.”

“Dr. Stanford, this is Secretary Blumenthal of the Department of Homeland Security,” he said as he approached the front of the room. “Do you have an opinion as to the effect a Carrington-level event would have on our power grid today?”

“I do,” replied Dr. Stanford. “David, would you mind showing them the image of the at-risk transformer capacity, designated by state?”

“Okay.” Lemmon provided the proper image to the aide.

“Go ahead, Dr. Stanford, the image is onscreen,” said Lemmon.

“What you are viewing is a map showing the at-risk transformer capacity for a negative seventeen hundred nanotesla geomagnetic field disturbance based upon the data for the Carrington Event. Regions with high percentages of at-risk capacities, such as in the northeast, could experience long-duration outages extending for several years. Lower percentages, as indicated in the regions like the southwest, would experience shorter outages, assuming the interconnected power grid doesn’t completely overwhelm those transformers via a cascading collapse.”

Lemmon turned to the people who would advise the President on what action to take. He needed to sum it up for them.

“It’s hard to overstate just how much this solar event will shock our lives. Of course, the power will go out as depicted in the map, as would the Internet and most of the nation’s critical infrastructure. In places with electronically controlled water supplies, toilets and sewage treatment systems would stop working, creating a disastrous public health problem. Perishable food and medication would be lost. Banks and financial markets would not function. Gas pumps would go offline. The list is long.”

Blumenthal walked back to the head of the room and whispered to the Chief of Staff and the President’s political advisor. He was about to exit the room when Dr. Stanford spoke again.

“Excuse me a moment, but I need to be clear about something.”

Blumenthal stopped and walked a few steps toward the screen.

“Go ahead, Doctor,” he said.

“The image I’ve provided was merely a hypothetical model for the Carrington Event based upon negative seventeen hundred nanoteslas. That is not the theoretical model for the AR3222 solar event headed towards Earth.”

“How does it differ?” asked Lemmon.

“Our predictions for this event are in the range of six thousand to eight thousand negative nanoteslas.”

“What does that mean in terms of the effect on the power grid?”

“Blackout. Total blackout.”

Chapter 15

15 Hours

8:25 a.m., September 8

Davidson Academy

Nashville, Tennessee

“I hope you won’t be late, Alex,” said Madison as she exited Interstate 24 onto Old Hickory Boulevard. “I can’t believe the traffic today. There weren’t any accidents, just cars and trucks in every direction.”

Alex was oblivious to her mom as she scrolled through the news sites online, seeking the latest update on the potential for auroras, a solar flare, or anything space weather related. CNN provided one news story which regurgitated the UK
Daily Mail
report. She scrolled through Twitter, searching the hashtag
#AR3222
and
#solarflare
. Most of the tweets involved pictures of the northern lights in Europe. Dr. Stanford’s Twitter account promised a video update at one o’clock. She’d try to watch the YouTube upload before her Spanish I class.

Despite being chastised several times by her Mom, Alex continually bounced through the various satellite news stations, to no avail. The Fox & Friends crew brought a live report about the northern lights from its affiliate in Presque Isle, Maine, near the Canadian border. After some playful banter with the reporter about the Carrington Event, Steve Doocy issued a stern warning to
all of you telegraph operators out there to be mindful of the phone lines getting burned up today
.

Alex didn’t find their jokes or lack of professionalism amusing. Nor did Alex laugh as her mom pulled into the drop off lane and she saw several senior guys were walking toward school, fashioning tinfoil hats.
Nobody was taking this seriously.

Or were they?

“Mom, doesn’t the parking lot look empty to you?” she asked.

Madison glanced around and then replied, “It does. Maybe some kids took off this week for a vacation around Labor Day.”

Alex just shook her head. “If that were the case, why wasn’t it empty like this yesterday?” she asked sarcastically.

“Listen, Alexis, I don’t know the answer to that. I know how you feel about this solar flare and it’s easy to look around for signs to support your thoughts on the subject.”

“Fine,” she replied and hastily tried to open the door before the truck was stopped. Alex knew something was coming. She could sense it, and not just because it was the topic of conversation in Mr. Stark’s class. She had a strong feeling something was about to happen.
Something unpleasant
—
like a premonition
.

Before Alex opened the door, she turned to her mother. “Mom, I have to turn my phone off while in school. Will you promise to keep the news on? Promise me that you’ll install the solar flare app we talked about yesterday. Please?”

Madison reached for her and they hugged. Maybe she was a little too overanxious. Alex wasn’t paranoid, just hyperaware. She needed her mom to believe in her.

“I promise, Alex,” said Madison, looking into Alex’s eyes. “I have some errands to run today. I’ll keep monitoring news reports, and I will install that FlareAware app as soon as you’re inside.”

“You remembered the name?” asked Alex, who was trying not to become an emotional
twit
.

“Yes, honey, of course I did. Moms do listen, you know.”

“Not always.” Alex started to laugh and wiped a tear from her cheek. She felt better.

“That’s true; guilty as charged. But this time,
I am listening
, and I want you to know that you can always count on your daddy and me, okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Mom.” Alex hugged her mom and scooted out of the truck, grabbing her backpack from the rear seat as she went. She bounded up the sidewalk toward the double door entry. She gave her mom one last smile and then turned her phone back on and set it to vibrate.
Just in case
.

Chapter 16

12 Hours

11:20 a.m., September 8

Dallas Cowboys Training Facilities

Ford Center at The Star

Frisco, Texas

Jerry Jones spared no expense when it came to his beloved Dallas Cowboys franchise. But the axiom
it takes money to make money
clearly applied in his approach to business. Football was a game for the fans, but it was big business to the NFL and its owners.

When the Cowboys’ latest revolutionary project opened in Frisco, located north of Dallas, the move was hailed as shifting the model for NFL training facilities from a place to hang your cleats and shoulder pads to a complete fan experience.

Not only was The Star the home of the Cowboys’ offices, but it included two outdoor practice fields, a twelve-thousand-seat indoor stadium, a retail shopping venue, and a sixteen-story Omni hotel and convention center.

Then there was the exclusive Cowboys Club, where today’s meeting and follow-up luncheon was being held. Jones was the consummate entertainer, and the opportunity to showcase his new high end dining facility overlooking the field was too good to pass up.

Colton’s mind wandered as the Super Bowl Halftime negotiations continued between his legal team and negotiators for the NFL. He felt guilty for dismissing Alex’s concerns over this solar flare situation. While the day-to-day burden of raising their daughter rested on Madison’s shoulders, Colton strived to be a good father who showed not only love for his only child but to also be the type of parent who really
listened
to his kid.

He recognized that times had changed in the twenty-some years since he went through his teens. All of the pressures and dangers facing teens twenty years ago were happening at an even younger age. The temptations of sex, gambling, drinking, and drugs were more prevalent than in his youth. The media and pop culture seemed to celebrate these things rather than discourage them. While he and Madison understood they couldn’t raise their daughter in a bubble, they could certainly be there to help manage the stresses and pressures of Alex’s life.

Communication was the key. Colton might remember what it was like to be a teenager back in the day, but Alex knew what it was like to be a teenager
today
. As parents, he and Madison discovered that not only could they learn a few things from their teenage daughter as she raced toward adulthood, but admired Alex’s willingness to prove her maturity and readiness to take on responsibilities.

Alex was trying to show her parents that maturity by, in a level-headed manner, doing the research and presenting a plausible scenario to them regarding a potential solar flare. Colton failed his daughter last night, and he hoped he didn’t break her spirit. Colton felt guilty, and he was looking for an opportunity to reach out to Alex.

The deep voice of the oldest of the NFL negotiators brought Colton back to the present. “In the fifty-plus years of the NFL’s presentation of the Super Bowl, the halftime show has become synonymous with the biggest names in entertainment. Hundreds of millions of people around the world will be introduced to your client. Our request is not unreasonable.”

The exchange wasn’t heated, but clearly a member of Colton’s legal team was aggravated. “I don’t disagree with the magnitude of this event, but what you’re asking is out of the norm. What do you think, Colton?”

“Um, I’m sorry. I was making a few notes.”

“Colton, they’re asking the talent to contribute to the expenses of the event.”

The request caught Colton by surprise, and he immediately got his head back in the game. “What kind of contribution?”

“Each year, the costs of production for the halftime event increase substantially. This year will be no exception. Between the extraordinary security on the field and the significant costs associated with the lighting, it should come as no surprise that additional funds will be needed from the performers to defray these expenses.”

It was time for Colton to close this deal. He sat up in his chair and stared down the NFL negotiating team. “Gentlemen, this is where I draw the line in the sand. My client doesn’t want an asterisk by his name for being the only artist to
pay to play
in the Super Bowl. He wants to proudly announce that he will accompany his peers in a fantastic halftime performance based upon his talents and merit and not the size of his bank account.”