The Borrowed World: A Novel of Post-Apocalyptic Collapse Read online

  With Javelin anti-tank weapons and 81mm mortars, explosive shells rained from fields and rooftops upon the Golden Gate Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Watts Bar Nuclear Power Station, the Diablo Canyon Power Plant, and a string of other power plants. When the terrorists achieved their targets, each followed Bilal’s lead and executed the cell member assigned as their escort, erasing their tracks.

  Other than the two men working the Alaskan Pipeline, each terrorist was assigned multiple secondary targets within the Eastern, Western, or Texas Interconnection Power Grids. Some had LAW rockets. Others, dressed in camouflage and armed with 30-06 hunting rifles, began firing into crucial and difficult to replace transformers at select power stations. As high voltage lines and crucial power stations within the grid were destroyed, the majority of the United States began to go dark. Power failed, along with communication, transportation, medical services. Law enforcement would soon fail as well, taking the peace of a nation with it.

  Chapter 2

  I had never been fond of staying in hotels. I’d worked for the same state agency in southwestern Virginia for over twenty years now, and I’d had to make the five-hour trip to Richmond more times than I could count. The distance always required staying in a hotel and unlike some people, I didn't enjoy staying in hotels. However, Richmond was our state capital and every time there was some change in the regulations governing our agency, we had to send a group up here to see how it was going to affect us. It was where the important meetings were always held. Six of us made the trip up yesterday and our meeting was supposed to start at 10 a.m. I was hoping that it ended early and we could hit the road back toward home. All of these thoughts hit me as soon as I woke up from my restless sleep. I hadn’t even gone to my meeting yet and already I was thinking about heading home.

  I never slept well in hotels and the sheets here reeked of bleach to the point that my eyes burned. I rolled out of my bed, my immediate plan to hit the hotel fitness room for some “me time” with the stationary bike and my iPod before heading down to the tasteless and disappointing continental breakfast with my colleagues. Having a good workout prior to a day-long meeting in Richmond at least made me feel like I’d accomplished something, unlike when I sat in those meetings. I looked toward the bedside digital clock to check the time but it was blank. It took me a second to register the oddity of that in my groggy state. Then I noticed that the bathroom light I left on last night was not on, either. I staggered to the dresser and retrieved my watch. 5:30 a.m., my regular time to wake up. I moved toward the window and pulled open the blinds. The sky was just beginning to lighten at the horizon but it was still mostly dark outside.

  I saw some vehicles moving around, but noticed that there were no security lights functioning in the parking lot. That was odd. Hotel parking lots were always lit up like football fields here in Richmond because of the crime. No streetlights were illuminated. I could see one intersection from my window and that traffic light was not working either. I started looking around at other hotels and office buildings visible from my window. All were dark. There had to be a power outage. I’d never been in a hotel during a power outage before, but I could only assume it would make staying in a hotel suck even worse. No elevators, no hot water, and eventually no water at all. No shitty continental breakfast, either.

  I went back to the dresser and picked up my iPhone. I touched a button and the screen glowed. I opened a news app and it attempted to update with the morning’s news but it appeared to have a poor data connection, as the page that loaded was missing blocks of text and images. Only a red headline was visible.

  AMERICA: NATION UNDER ATTACK

  Shit. What had I missed last night?

  I closed the app, touched an icon, and dialed my wife’s cell number. After a few misleading rings, I received a message that all circuits were busy.

  I sat down on the bed and attempted to collect my thoughts, but it was like herding cats. I was too sluggish from poor sleep. I went to the bathroom and tried the sink. There was still some water pressure so I splashed cold water on my face in the dark. Without power, there wouldn’t even be water up here much longer. When the city’s booster pumps failed, the upper stories of buildings, like the one I was in now, would be the first to experience the loss in pressure. I grabbed a towel and dried off, feeling slightly more alert.

  I dragged my suitcase closer to the window and dug out some clothes, dressing quickly since I wasn’t sure at this point if I’d actually be attending my meeting or not. I remembered something I’d read once before about how it was easier to send a text message with a poor signal than to make a call. A text could go through with sporadic connectivity while a cell call required a more stable connection with better signal quality.

  I got my phone and sat back down, opened the messaging app and typed:

  NO POWER HERE. SAW A HEADLINE ABOUT AN ATTACK. R U AND KIDS OK?

  I set the phone down and picked up my shoes. I had brought dress shoes for my meeting but my everyday shoes are Keen hiking boots and that’s what I put on. I didn’t know what the day would bring but I couldn’t imagine the meeting was still on the agenda, if for no other reason than I couldn’t imagine the women of our party going out in public without being able to shower and do their hair.

  I surveyed the room in the dim light and tried to collect my belongings. I picked up any scattered clothes and crammed them into the bag. I went to the dresser and used the light from my phone to gather my EDC, or Every Day Carry, items – my billfold, change, keys, my SOG Twitch XL knife, and a little Ruger LCP .380 pistol. The LCP had an inside-the-belt holster that allowed me to carry it discreetly inside my pants and hidden by my shirt. I had a permit to carry it, although our agency policy prohibited carrying it in company vehicles or at the office. I did so anyway because I would rather have it when I needed it than die at the hands of a criminal while secure in the fact that I was dying in compliance with the agency policy manual. If bad things happened, I would survive to find another job. I would not die and have my tombstone read: Here Lies Jim, He Adhered to Policy.

  I tucked the pistol away, and the text alert on my phone sounded off. I saw it was my wife, breathed a sigh of relief, and read the message:

  NOT SURE WHAT’S GOING ON. JUST WOKE UP. WE HAVE POWER.

  I quickly typed a reply:

  DON’T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT ASSUME YOU WILL LOSE POWER, TOO. GET RED FOLDER OUT OF GUNSAFE AND FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS IMMEDIATELY. TEXT ME BACK IF YOU FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENED. LOVE YOU AND WILL BE HOME AS SOON AS I CAN.

  I hit SEND. I had seen enough cell towers up close to know that many of them had propane generators for power failures. How long they stayed up varied. All it took in a network was one failure along the chain and the whole network would start to sag. The system was already overburdened and one glitch could cause a massive backup in data transmission. Kind of like when some jerk at the office decided to print five hundred brochures on the office printer and the massive job would keep anyone else from printing for hours.

  I hoped my wife got the message. I had trained her and the kids on surviving emergencies but I never knew if they were taking me seriously, whether they were actually listening or just humoring me. I tried to explain to them that they may need those skills if bad things happened. I hoped they had taken it to heart because bad things might be happening right now.

  The area we lived in got its power from coal-fired plants that were only about fifteen miles away from my home. With a supply of coal, they would continue on for a while, and the coal was all local, too. The problem I anticipated was that with demand surging, the power company would be trying to send as much of that power upstream as possible, to the more populated areas of Northern Virginia. Under this pressure, something would break. Components would overheat and fail, or a transformer would pop. Something they would not be able to replace would break and then the folks at home would be in the dark, too.

  I got up and did a final check of the room, gathering my j
acket, my bag, and the backpack that I carried to the room last night after everyone else had gone to their rooms. I didn’t want to have to explain the backpack to them because taking it everywhere I traveled made me seem paranoid. I preferred to look at myself as well-informed. I knew what kind of crazy shit could happen in the world and I wanted to be as ready as I could. The backpack was my emergency Get Home Bag, or GHB, and it went where I went. I brought it in last night because I didn’t like leaving it in the car overnight. There were items in there that could save my life in an emergency. Today, I might need it.

  It really wasn’t paranoia, though. What changed me was seeing our nation undergo events like Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Sandy. We as a nation just didn’t have the ability we once had to step in and come to the rescue of our citizens. Or maybe it was just that people were less self-sufficient than they used to be and were brought to their knees more easily by bumps in the road. Either way, I had children and a wife that I was responsible for, and with that responsibility came paranoia. I didn’t want to be one of those people unable to take care of my family. I didn’t want to have to take them to shelters and depend on someone else to feed us. I wanted to have a backup plan. The Get Home Bag was part of it.

  I started to leave the room but was afraid to leave my stuff behind, afraid the door might not open again, even though I was sure that the lock was battery powered and would function even during an outage. I couldn’t take a chance on being separated from my gear, though. I went to the door and pulled it open, leaving my pack and luggage in the door, propping it open. I stepped out into the hallway and realized how alien it was to be in a completely darkened hotel hallway. There were no exit lights, no smoke detector LEDs, no overhead lights, no blinking security cameras. There was no buzz and clicking of ice machines or soda machines. There was no sound of CNN or Bloomberg coming faintly from the rooms of early-rising business travelers. No one stirred.

  I stepped across the hall using the flashlight app on my phone to light the way. I tapped on a door. Nothing. I tapped again until I heard movement inside.

  “Uh, who is it?” asked a groggy voice. It was Gary Sullivan, the IT Director at our agency. He’d worked there almost as long as I had and we were pretty good friends, mostly because he was slightly paranoid, like me. Excuse me, I mean well-informed. Having a paranoid friend made each of us feel slightly less paranoid, though. That was just the kind of supportive relationship any well- prepared individual needs.

  “It’s Jim,” I replied.

  The door cracked and Gary opened it slightly. “What’s going on? What time is it?”

  “I think the shit hit the fan,” I said.

  Gary had a blank look on his face. He shielded his eyes from the light of my phone. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The power's out. Some kind of attack. I don’t know anything yet but something is definitely going on.”

  Gary perked up. “Give me a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right out.”

  I retreated to my room and began to assess our situation. There were six of us here in two cars. Two men. Four women. We were slightly over 300 miles from home. We did not know what was going on yet. There could be limited access to fuel due to the power outages and even limitations on travel depending on the scale of the emergency. We were not equipped for a long journey. We were way too short on information.

  It was at that moment that I remembered my iPod had a radio receiver built into it. I’d never used it because who the hell listens to the radio anymore? I don’t. My iPod was for audio books, podcasts, and workout music. I dug it out of my jacket pocket and stuck the ear buds in my ears. I selected the radio feature from the menu and began trying to figure it out. I started scanning through channels, finding mostly static before I landed on a station that was playing what sounded like an Emergency Broadcast System recording. It was the flat, monotone voice of someone reading a prepared statement. Eventually, the statement began to repeat itself and included mention of the fact that it was indeed an EBS statement and to stay tuned for further updates.

  “The President of the United States has declared a nationwide state of emergency in response to the widespread and devastating terror attacks that occurred in the United States overnight. We do not know yet who is responsible for the heinous actions that have shattered the peace of our nation. As it has not yet been determined if the attacks are over or if we continue to be at-risk, Americans are encouraged to stay at home and limit travel only to emergency situations. Roadways should be kept clear for emergency vehicles, first responders, and those attempting to repair the damage caused during the attacks. Several major fuel refineries were destroyed in the attack and fuel may be rationed until such time as we are able to assess and take inventory of the available fuel inventory. The procedure for limiting fuel sales has not been finalized yet but Americans should be aware that this may occur. Estimates are that over sixty-five percent of homes in the country are without power and it is not known when service will be restored. Americans are urged to conserve water, utilize their family emergency plans and resources, and stay tuned for further updates. Until the situation is stable, each American is encouraged to help his neighbor and we will get through this together. May God bless the United States of America.”

  When the message began to repeat itself, I turned the iPod off. There was a knock on the door and I pulled the ear buds from my ears and went to the door. It was Gary.

  “You ever figure out what was going on?” he asked.

  “I just listened to an Emergency Broadcast System message on my iPod,” I told him. “There’s been some kind of terrorist attack affecting fuel supplies and the power grid. A lot of the country is without power. Fuel supply is limited and they’re telling everyone to stay home until they know more.”

  Gary stood there for a moment absorbing that information without a reaction. He didn’t appear to be a morning person. All cylinders were not yet firing.

  “I think we need to get everyone together and get the hell out of here,” he finally said. “Things could deteriorate quickly and we’re a long way from home. This is the last place I want to be stuck.”

  “I agree. Let's get everyone together then and tell them what we know.”

  Gary went one way and I went the other, each of us waking up two sleeping women and thereby sharing the danger equally. All of the women, seasoned travelers, responded to my knocking by calling through the door rather than opening it. We each gave them a condensed version of the little we knew, telling them that we needed to assemble in my room in ten minutes and get a plan together. They were not happy campers.

  Gary and I were sitting in my room talking as the women began showing up. I could hear Lois Green, the head of the accounting department, complaining all the way down the hall. She would no doubt blame me for all of this. As far as she was concerned, I was the root of all evil.

  “What’s this all about, Jim?” she demanded. “Gary said it was a national emergency and he would tell us more when we got here.”

  She sounded very put out by being dragged out of bed and not given time to prepare herself. She was a minister’s wife and the two of us did not really get along. She represented a lot of the things that I disliked the most in people. She gossiped, back-stabbed, and lied while maintaining a facade that she was above such things. I was pretty sure she thought I was the devil incarnate, but I wasn’t losing sleep over it.

  “We don’t have a lot of information,” I told her as everyone else came in. “There’s obviously no power here but my wife says we still have it at home. I heard a broadcast on the Emergency Broadcast System a few minutes ago that said there had been terrorist attacks last night. The fuel supply has been affected and the power to more than half of the country is out. They are telling people to limit travel and stay off the roads.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Alice Watkins, the Human Resources Director, asked.

  She and I got along pretty well mo
st of the time but she was a stickler for the rules since she wrote a lot of them. She and I were part of a policy team and had spent hours developing the policies that bound our agency. She was the one who had written that particular policy about carrying weapons in agency vehicles that I had been breaking on a regular basis. I was hoping she wasn’t going to advocate for staying put just because the government told her to. If that was the case, I’d have to leave her ass in the parking lot. Taking orders from the government was not my style.

  “I’m not interested in staying in Richmond,” I said. “I think that would be a dumb, potentially dangerous move.”

  Gary, ever the more tactful and polite speaker, took it upon himself to act as my translator. “What Jim is trying to say is that there are a lot of risks with staying here,” he said, trying to put a friendlier face on things. “The government could institute Martial Law or curfews, particularly here in Richmond. Jim heard that they are going to limit the fuel supply. Then we’d have a long walk home. It's almost like we have to go before they get organized and tell us we can't.”

  The women soaked this up in silence. Jim looked at the other two women, Rebecca Dowdy and Randi Ward, both from the clinical side of their agency.

  “Any opinions?” he asked the women.

  “What about staying put and waiting to see what happens?” Randi asked. “That might be the safest move.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I repeated. “Do you remember Hurricane Katrina? Imagine that devastation on a national scale. People are civil now and things are relatively stable but things will get much, much worse before they get better. Richmond in particular will have more people than food and things will get very bad in a few days. As stores run out of food, people will get desperate, and desperate people become violent. Meanwhile, our families will be home worrying about us.”