The Pulse: An EMP Prepper Survival Tale (4 page)

They lay in bed that Sunday night after a
nice day together before he went back on the road the following
day. Terrance gave his wife a kiss before going to sleep.

"Terrance?" Christina asked after he had
turned over.

"Yes?" he asked, still facing away.

"You still find me attractive?"

Terrance turned back around and looked at her
with surprise. "Of course I do, baby," he said, after giving her
another kiss.

"It's just. You're gone so much. And I know
that you're trying, but sometimes I wonder. I just need to make
sure."

She would never outright accuse him of having
an affair, unless her intuition told her something. But Terrance
didn't seem like that kind of guy. However, she could never be
sure. A man was a man, despite all his good nature. They kissed
again, and Terrance leaned over to dim the light. He knew the
option of sleep wasn't going to happen for a while. Christina
needed some reassurance.

As African Americans in an African American
neighborhood, Terrance and Christina felt somewhat alone in their
prepper lifestyle. Other families they knew showed little concern
about what the Robinsons believed to be dangerous times. Even at
the Mt. Vernon Baptist Church they regularly attended, it was hard
to bring up the subject of prepping to anyone. "You one of them
doomsday people?" A church parishioner named Jacquelyn had asked
them that during their after-church lunch.

There was simply no getting through to the
people they knew, although that didn't stop them from trying.
Eventually they had to look outside Atlanta. They searched online
for other groups located at some short distance and came across
Mark, Janice, and James. A relationship and bond was formed from
then on. They trusted each other. They relied on each other. And
each day, as the news got worse, they believed in each other. No
one knew for sure when their trust would truly be tested.

Chapter Five

The Prepper Pact

James, the Mosses, and the
Robinsons all lived within practical distance of each other. James
had initiated the prepper group by searching for individuals who
wanted to pursue an investment into an ideal "bug-out" house he had
found in rural Milledgeville. Many people were naturally suspicious
of James' offer, but he eventually found some takers. Milledgeville
rested squarely between Atlanta and Savannah, though
Savannah
—o
n the
coast of
Georgia—was
farther away. Geographically it made sense to both the Mosses
and the Robinsons once they investigated the investment. He would
live in the house, maintain it, and stock it with food and supplies
if they agreed to split the cost of the property and the mortgage.
The location was ideal for James, as he taught classes at Georgia
College with an M.A. in Contemporary History. James loved history
and reveled in Milledgeville's past.

He had worked at Georgia College for more
than five years. It had been nearly a year since he last saw anyone
in his prepper pact. The last time they met was on a Labor Day
weekend. The Mosses and the Robinsons took the drive to
Milledgeville to check out the house and catch up with James and
each other. For the Robinson kids, it was a simple barbecue with a
friend of the family's they had never met before. Richie, Tobias,
and Paula were curious about their parents’ newfound “friend.”

"Why'd we drive all the way out here just to
hang with some old white people?" Richie asked Tobias, who didn't
know.

Over the year, James heard less from his
prepper pact, and wondered about them. They still sent checks for
the house payments but seemed less interested in maintaining
contact. It was nothing personal; they just had lives to lead. He
just hoped they'd be ready when the time came.

Serious prepping took time and commitment, a
challenge to anyone with a family and bills to pay. James lived an
isolated life in the bug-out house, but he was happy. He'd always
been somewhat of a loner and had been able to manage since the
breakup of his marriage, and the distance from his son and
grandchildren. He had his students. Each semester, he reveled in
teaching the importance of history. He wanted them to realize that
knowing history was the key to understanding the future. Knowing
the past, James believed, prevented a society from making the same
mistakes. Those who forgot the past were doomed to repeat it. It
was for this reason James was an enthusiastic and dedicated
teacher.

The Robinsons had no intention of ever moving
to a place like Milledgeville for good. The Mosses liked Savannah,
every bit as much as the Robinsons had their roots in Atlanta.
Terrance and Christina were admittedly proud people. Their run-down
neighborhood on the outskirts of the city had got progressively
worse over the years, but they were reluctant to move. They
discussed the matter one night after a recent string of shootings
around the neighborhood.

"This is our home," Terrance said, "and we're
not going anywhere."

"But I don't know if I feel safe sending the
kids to these schools any longer," Christina argued.

"We're not moving, and that's final," he
said. Eventually, they agreed to invest in the bug-out house
because of its distance from the city.

"When everything goes down, we'll be safe.
And if I'm not here, you best gather up the kids and take the car
to the house without me," Terrance said.

She hoped the day would never come. Terrance
was sure calamities were right around the corner, but each day
passed and things seemed to remain the same. Terrance and Christina
were both Georgia natives. Just staying financially afloat was
enough for them. The prospect that everything could quickly change
for the worse seemed very real, but they hoped they were wrong in
the long run.

The Mosses, frugal as they were, considered
the cost of living reasonable in Savannah. They liked the weather,
and they liked living near the coast. They bug-out house looked to
them to be a wise investment. Mark was uncertain about working with
James at first, cautious about just giving their money to a
stranger who lived in the woods. But after an exhaustive background
check and meeting James in person several times, Mark warmed up to
him. James seemed to be the genuine article. A man intent on
survival. They made payments on the mortgage, and the group
eventually paid off the entire cost of $66,000. To mark the
occasion, the Mosses and The Robinsons celebrated over the Labor
Day weekend. It was the last time they had seen each other. A year
had passed since then, when suddenly the power went out, and
everyone's worst fears came true.

Chapter Six

When the Lights Go Down

Monday September 21, 2025 7:30 A.M.
Savannah, GA.

Mark woke up and immediately felt anxious the
morning meeting with his boss. He looked over at Janice and saw
that she was still sleeping. He wanted to wake her up to get some
reassurance, but she looked too peaceful. Her shoulder-length dark
hair was splayed over her pillow, covering the side of her face.
She was lying on her side, facing Mark, with the curvature of her
body steadily rising and falling with her breathing. He snapped out
of his funk and placed a foot on the soft beige carpet below. The
room was still dark, but one pull of the curtain over their large
bedroom window, and sunlight would fill the room.

After two weeks of trying to make a good
impression at work, he felt that everything was riding on a single
morning coffee meet. He would soon be sitting across from his boss,
and he wanted to be awake, alert, and on-point. His morning routine
began with a cup of espresso, followed by a hot shower. By the time
he was dressed, it was five minutes to eight. He had plenty of time
and started to feel good and ready. He tucked his long-sleeved
button-up shirt into his dress pants then flipped his collar up to
adjust his blue tie. Janice peeked her head into the bathroom.

"Look at you all dressed up and ready to go,"
she said with a smile.

"An impressive sight, if I do say so
myself."

Janice stretched. "Well don't take too much
longer making yourself beautiful; I need to get ready for work
myself."

Mark adjusted his tie then straightened it
with a pull. "Don't mind me, do what you need to do," he said.

Janice pushed her way into the bathroom.
"Move it, bub," she said. "Time's up."

He circled around and pulled Janice closer
toward him, holding her arms down. "When I'm rich and successful,
you won't be able to push me around anymore," he said. He looked at
his wristwatch, and then re-adjusted his tie. "Bathroom's all
yours, honey, gotta go." He flew out of the bathroom, leaving
Janice standing in front of the mirror.

"Good luck with your meeting," she said.

Mark ran back in the bathroom and gave her a
quick peck on the cheek. "Sorry, love you!" he said, then flew back
out.

"Love you too," she answered.

Mark grabbed his suit jacket from the bed,
moved quickly downstairs. "Have a good day at work," he
shouted.

"You too," Janice shouted back, and then she
heard the door slam. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair
was a mess. The light skin on her face was breaking out slightly
into red bumps. She would have to put on an extra layer of
moisturizer to control it. At twenty-eight, Janice was still young
at heart and appearance. She examined her face and looked for any
signs of age. Her hazel eyes shined in the light. Her thick and
shapely lips could still be seductive when they needed to be. And
her hair, originally brown, had been dyed black. She suddenly
realized that she had to battle rush-hour traffic with less than an
hour to get to work. She had to be there by 9:00 a.m. and it was
already past eight.

She threw off her bathrobe and jumped in the
shower, in a slight panic. She foolishly turned the shower knob too
fast and was met with a spray of water that felt like ice. She
tried to switch the knob in the other direction and was blasted
with scolding hot water. "Damn it!" she said. Eventually she got it
worked out.

Mark jumped into his dark
blue, two-door Chevy Cavalier and backed down the driveway. Once he
was on the road, he realized he had more than enough time to get to
the coffee shop. It was 8:15, the coffee place was fifteen minutes
away, and he didn't have to be there until 9:00. Now he would
be
too
early. Mark
wondered if being too early was worse. He didn't want to look as
though he had been waiting too long for her. He had to remind
himself to stop worrying, and that it wasn't a date.

Things on the highway weren't too bad just
yet. After some time in stop-and-go traffic, Mark found his way to
the Barnie's coffee shop, right down the road from the Nissan
dealership. He lived very close to where he worked, which was an
added benefit of the job. He could probably ride a bike to work
every morning if he didn't have to dress business casual. Normally
he didn't wear a suit, but he wanted to look as professional as
possible for the meeting.

Mark pulled in the Barnie's parking lot at
8:50. He wasn't sure if his boss had arrived yet, but found a
parking space in the back and noticed a black Nissan Altima that
looked like her car three spaces over. Barnie's was busy, and
nearly every parking space had been taken. He got out of his car
and walked hurriedly to the front entrance. There was already a
long line at the counter.

Mark glanced around looking for Mrs. Andrews.
He walked past the front counter, turned to his left, and entered a
quaint seating area. She was sitting on one side of a high table in
the corner. Mark felt relief, and walked over the table to meet
her. Barnie's was noisy with the commotion of patrons, employees
calling out orders, and light jazz vibrating from the sound
system.

His boss was dressed in a dark single-button
blazer with a white shirt underneath and slim, black pants that
went down to her ankles. Her graying hair was tied back in a bun,
and she looked very business-like, especially wearing her thick
black-framed eyeglasses. She was at least ten years older than Mark
but still attractive. She had a tall coffee in front of her and was
reading over some files lying on the table. Mark grew nervous
noticing the paperwork, but trudged over to her table as she looked
up and noticed him with a smile.

"Mark, so nice to see you, good morning," she
said, holding her hand out.

Mark smiled back enthusiastically and shook
her hand. "Mrs. Andrews, thank you, nice to see you as well."

"Please have a seat," she said, as she
cleared her files off of the table.

"Sure," Mark replied as he pulled out the
stool on the other side and sat down.

As they looked at each other, she noticed he
didn't have a coffee. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, holding one hand
to her mouth. "You didn't get your drink yet. Please, put it on my
card." She pulled a credit card out from her purse and handed it to
Mark. "Thank you," Mark said, and slowly taking her card.

"No problem, I insist," she said. Mark walked
back to the counter and ordered a pumpkin spice latte. October was
right around the corner. He made it back to the table, handed his
boss her card, and took a seat. "Thanks again, Mrs. Andrews."

"Please, call me Evelyn," she replied. “

Mark took a sip from his latte, and tried to
think of something to say, but Evelyn beat him to the punch.

"How was your weekend?" she asked. A standard
question in any sense. Mark folded his hands on the table and
responded. It almost felt like the job interview all over again but
a tad more informal.

"Oh it was great. Very
relaxing. Got to spend some quality time with my
wife. Got some shopping done, you know, a nice
quiet weekend. How about yourself?"