Rage: A Story of Survival Read online

  On my way home, I’m careful to stay off the streets and out of plain sight. Even though I doubt I’ll run into more trouble, I want to be sure. The town is silent, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d presume all the houses were empty.

  I don’t blame people for hiding, but they’ll have to come out of their houses at some point. After three days with no power or electricity, people are surely running out of food and water. Sooner or later, people will have to look for more supplies.

  When I reach my neighborhood, I’m so excited that I run toward my house. Taking a second to catch my breath, I do a quick visual survey. Everything seems okay, so I knock on my front door.

  Waiting with my breath held, I hope it’ll be one of my family members who answers. While waiting, I pray they’re still here and that they’re all healthy and alive.

  The seconds stretch into minutes as I wait. Right before I start checking the windows, the door bursts open. My excitement turns to fear as I stare down the barrel of a shotgun. Instinctively, I freeze.

  “I told you, you come back and I’ll kill you.” I stay perfectly still. My terror melts into joy when I recognize that gruff voice. The voice who threatened me belongs to my father.

  “Dad, it’s me, Aaron. Lower the gun.” My father looks at me, and I see relief wash over his face. He lowers the gun, and tears come to his eyes as he hugs me.

  “We thought you were dead, Aaron. I’m so glad to see you.” Our embrace ends, and my father looks around. “It’s not safe out here. Stuff has gone south. Come inside and you can tell us about what happened to you.”

  My father leads me inside to safety, locking and dead-bolting the door behind us. He leads the way and I follow him around the corner of the entry, through the hall, and toward the bathroom.

  While we’re walking, I notice my father has a slight limp, which tells me he’s in pain. It’s hard to tell how bad his injury is. Whatever happened to him, it scared him more than he’s willing to admit or show.

  Before I have any more time to think, we arrive at the main bathroom. This is the only windowless room in the house that’s large enough for my whole family. It’s secure, and I approve of my dad’s choice of it as a safe room. As my dad opens the door, the first thing I notice is the smell of my mother’s favorite candle, lilac and jasmine. The second thing I notice is my mother, illuminated in the candle’s flame, standing a few feet from me. Tears come to my eyes as I hug her. Before our embrace breaks, two more sets of slender arms curl around me. The next few minutes are spent crying and embracing my two sisters and mother.

  As if on cue, the tears release tension I didn’t realize I was carrying. Relief washes over me. As I tell my family about what happened, my body relaxes. Smiling and laughing, I tell my story, glad to be alive and grateful my family is alive as well. After I’m done telling my story, my mother and sisters tell me about what happened to them during the last three days.

  During the first night without power, my father was injured in a brutal attack. He believes it was a robbery gone wrong. After the attack, my family moved into the bathroom to be safe. After we all tell our stories, I turn to my dad. “So, Dad, what do you think is going on?”

  He looks at me for a while before speaking. “There’s been a nationwide and possibly even a worldwide EMP strike.” His simple statement confirms what Jason and I already suspected. There’s been an EMP strike, and until this moment, I didn’t consider how far it spread.

  A nationwide EMP would be possible if many key targets were struck simultaneously. America has adversaries capable of creating a synchronized strike. Filled with wonder, I ponder how my dad can be so sure the EMP isn’t contained to our little town in Illinois. On the same note, I also wonder what makes him think it might be a worldwide strike.

  “You’re probably right,” I say, “but how can you be so sure that it was a national EMP?”

  My dad pauses, and I can tell he’s struggling to tell me. For a few seconds, I think he’s going to keep the information to himself, but then he speaks. “Well, no aid has come, so I know it isn’t a local problem. If it was contained to Illinois, we would have seen emergency response teams already. Besides, I haven’t seen a single plane in the sky since the power went out.”

  The lack of planes flying overhead is enough evidence for me to believe he may be right.

  “Hopefully,” my dad continues, “the power only went out in America, but every day that passes makes it harder to believe that it was only us. America has enough allies that we should’ve received some form of aid already—unless there’s something preventing others from helping us. I have to presume the nation, and the world, has lost power and gone dark.”

  My father’s words hit me hard. It’s not difficult to understand why he hesitated to tell me. The idea that mankind could’ve receded back into the dark ages is terrifying. When I search his worn, bearded face for a trace of hope, I find none. In the end, I have to settle for the comforting scent of lilac and jasmine—that and the lingering warmth of my family’s embrace.

  Chapter 2: Jason

  March 16th

  Aaron walks away from me and I’m glad he showed up. The last thing I expected when I left the house this morning was that I would run into him. I also didn’t expect to get into a fight, but I’m glad Aaron was there. When I look at the three men on the ground, I decide they deserve the state they’re in. They’ll live, so I have no problem leaving them where they are.

  Everything that’s happened catches up to me, and I realize that it’s a miracle I’m even outside. Ever since the power went out, my parents have done their best to keep me inside. It’s not like I don’t understand their concern, but I’m eighteen and I should be able to make my own decisions. Sadly, I can’t tell them about what happened. If they knew I was in a fight, I’d never be able to leave the house again—not as long as they’re alive, anyway. Sure, I love my parents, but sometimes they can be overprotective and overbearing.

  Now that I’ve collected myself, I start to walk toward the mission center. As I step over the bodies of the men, I notice the knife on the ground and pick it up. It’s beyond me why someone would pull out a knife for something so petty. I’m lucky that Aaron came when he did; he might have saved my life.

  Fear is something I understand. Everyone has been afraid these past few days. Why would someone try to erase their own fear by dominating and hurting others? Using a knife is too far-fetched for me. It’s much easier to be peaceful.

  Even now, I regret hurting the men. True, they deserved it, but I’ve never enjoyed hurting others. I fear that, with the power gone, this might not be the last time I’ll have to hurt someone to help others. So much has changed in three short days.

  As I walk along the abandoned streets full of dead cars, I notice the trash and debris. To me, it looks like it’s been months, not days, since the power went out. Strange how quickly things crumble when not maintained.

  I was in the mission center when the power first went out. The center is a childcare facility. It has an indoor gym, a few small offices, and a nice outdoor playground. Families rely on the center as a place for their children to stay after school while parents work. It doesn’t cost anything, unlike a traditional daycare.

  The kids panicked at the loss of power. Everyone figured it was a blackout, so we moved the children outside to the center of the playground. The gym doesn’t have enough windows for good natural lighting, so the playground seemed like a great place to occupy the kids while we waited for the power to return.

  Fortunately, the mission center is state-run, so it’s required to have emergency supplies. The food rations came in handy as the minutes turned to hours and we waited for the power to return.

  When the power first went out, I found a few flashlights in the emergency supplies. Unfortunately, none of them worked. Over the next few hours, I tried to find any electronic devices that worked. That was when I discovered everything electrical was dead. Clocks, watches, phones, and even
light bulbs were fried.

  As I checked electrical devices, I remembered a book I read a couple of years back about EMPs. I explained the concept to the other leaders. A couple of us had seen television shows about EMP bursts, and it was the best explanation we had at the moment.

  There are several ways an EMP blast can happen, but they all have similar results. Electronics are overloaded by electrons released from gamma rays. As the rays pass through the atmosphere, they create a barrage of electrons. These electrons are what damage electronics. Every light bulb had a burnt-out filament, which endorsed the idea. It makes me wonder how badly circuit boards and other heavily wired electronics must be damaged.

  Electricity is still possible since lead-acid batteries can be recharged or remade. But they’ll only be able to power things without microchips or circuitry. Even if we made or found lead-acid batteries, there would be no way to charge them. My thoughts are interrupted when a radar sign unit draws my attention. This unit would usually tell people how fast they’re driving and alert them if they were speeding.

  The radar unit has been here for about a year, to help slow cars down in the area. The reason it catches my eye this time is because of what’s on top of it. The sight reminds me of what Aaron mentioned about solar panels on devices along the highway. This makes me realize that there are dozens of devices like these speed traps that use them. If we gather all the panels in and near town, we should be able to create a small-scale power generator.

  I walk over to the machine, then climb my way to the top, making sure to be careful. The solar panels on top look to be in good condition. Sure, I don’t know much about solar technology, but I do know they don’t have circuits in the panels themselves. Though there might be some damage to the wires that connect the solar cells, it may be possible to get them working again. If I can repair them, then I should be able to use them to charge lead-acid as well as other batteries.

  Thinking about the radar units gives me hope that it might be possible to recover from this EMP blast. It will take years and possibly even decades to rebuild technology, but it should be possible. Climbing off the radar unit, I continue my walk along the deserted roads.

  When I enter the mission center, I’m greeted by the subdued noise of children. The atmosphere of the place is full of fear and indecision. Through that, the innocent mirth of the children is palpable. The center, once full of only kids, now has some adults as well. Surely they’re here because they’re afraid. Even so, I’m a little surprised that people are here, though with no other course of action, I would do the same in their place.

  As I look around, I can’t find the director. Knowing he has a large family, I can’t fault him for not coming. He asked me to keep this group together and to create some order. Pretty tall orders from a man who didn’t come today, though I’m sure we can achieve this if we work on a communal project together. The solar project I have in mind will be the perfect thing to do this.

  The mission center has always tried to focus on the community. The project I have in mind is much larger in scale than anything we’ve done before. Since the power went out, we’ve had water, but I don’t know for how long. Thus far, it’s come from the water towers, but without power to refill the towers, I figure we have less than a week of clean water left.

  With the panels from the radar unit, I have an idea of how to fill the towers. To complete this plan, though, I’ll need the help of the parents who came here today. With them helping me, fixing the imminent water shortage might be possible.

  I look around for other staff members, hoping they can support me and strengthen the argument I’m about to make. My search is futile; there are no other staff members. While looking around, I notice everyone’s eyes are on me. Most of these parents have met me before. They know I work here, and right now, I imagine my position overshadows my age. Preparing myself, I ready a speech, thanking all the speech classes I took in high school.

  Eyes follow me as I walk into the center of the crowd. Everyone’s looking toward me.

  “Hello, everyone. I know it must have been hard to come here today, and I’m sure each of you faced some sort of challenge. I want to personally thank you all for taking risks to be here today. We are dealing with some hard times. If we don’t band together as a community, I’m afraid we will split apart and fight among ourselves. Today, on my way here, I was stopped by some people who thought they owned my street. If this can happen three short days after the loss of power, what will it be like next week, when we run out of water? Our community must band together to prevent the loss of structure and the ability to coexist.”

  When I look around, I see looks of understanding among several of the people watching me. Many of them might have faced similar circumstances to be here. I hope I’ve captured these people’s desire to do something.

  “I know that this mission center is usually a place for the community to serve its members. Today, we need to broaden our community service. We need to send a message to those who want to exploit our fear. We need to tell them that we refuse to be their slaves. No longer will we let fear control us. We here at the center need to go out and help our neighbors by fixing our community. We need to show people that there’s no reason to hide or be afraid. If we can rally others in this town, together we can rebuild our community. If we stand united, there’s no force that can stop us.”

  These people look back at me, and I know my speech has had an impact. The faces around me show determination. Every single person here decided to take the risk to come here today. Their determination shows that they already want to make a change, and now I have a way to give it to them. Strength is visible in this group, and I know it will follow me.

  I tell the crowd about my plans to use solar panels to power the pumps to the water towers throughout town. Several members step forward to offer their input. Many of the members have not only ideas, but also specifics on how to do what needs to be done.

  A week ago, these people would be seen as working class or poor. These plumbers, electricians, and handymen are more valuable now. In my view, they’re better than any professor, surgeon, actress, or CEO. Strange how, less than a week ago, society looked down upon the skill of working with your hands. Now, I imagine these people are desperately needed everywhere.

  The specifics of the plan come together. To put in place the project, we’ll need more than the dozen people here. With that many, we could get the water tower project done in a few days, but my goals go past our current project. That’s why I want to create a sense of community with this project and set a basis for future ones. If we could recruit every person in the town, I’d be happy.

  To that effect, the first stage of our plan is recruitment. My hope is that our group can convince others to join us. If we get enough help, I know we can get the pumps working before the water runs out in the towers.

  We need to start by gathering the solar panels throughout town, taking them from nearby speed traps, construction equipment, and various other sources. With the solar panels in one place, we’ll work on networking them together so we can power our makeshift water pumps and charge our batteries.

  The pumps will draw water from the aquifer under our town, supplying our water towers. It’ll take quite a bit of manpower to put everything in place, but once it’s set up, it’ll run itself. Or at least that’s what I’m told by some of the people here. Most of the details are a bit beyond my understanding.

  By the time we finish planning, it’s dusk. When I get home, I fall asleep, exhausted. The next morning, my parents ask me what’s going on. I lie to them, telling them nothing has changed at the mission center and that I’m helping watch kids. They know I’m dedicated to those kids, so they believe my story and I’m allowed to go back.

  Knowing they’d try to stop me if I told the truth, I push down my guilt. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t lie, but I fear that if I don’t show up today, the plan will collapse.

  No one stops me on my way
to the center today, and when I get there, I’m shocked. There are at least a hundred people here, if not more. Among the multitude are some of the old staff and, from what I can tell, people of all previous classes. My dreams and hopes of creating a community are prospering and I’m encouraged and ready to move forward.

  Before the day is through, we manage to set up a working pump at one of the four water towers. By the next day, word has spread and our numbers triple. Representatives of the center become nominated and elected to go recruit others. The mission center becomes the town’s temporary relief center. Several groups form to cover every need: trash duty, farming, construction, repair, scavenging, policing, and even medical.

  I lose my place as the leader of the movement, as it starts gaining its own momentum. This doesn’t bother me, since I’m glad to see the danger of isolation fade. Soon, the town starts to rebuild itself into a place that can survive without power.

  Instead, I become the new head of the mission center as it once again becomes a place for children to stay while their parents work. The center transforms into a place for children to play, learn, and be watched over. The main difference now is that the kids are from every part of town, not only the parts that used to be poor.

  Time moves rapidly while I’m busy leading the mission center. Weeks pass, feeling like days. The only time I allow myself a break is when Aaron stops by to visit. His visits remind me of when we used to hang out on the weekends. Aaron’s visits provide a nice relief from the stress of my new job and responsibilities.

  During one of Aaron’s visits, he tells me about the revival of the police force. He tells me how he joined. The police help form the backbone of our growing town. They work to keep order and protect us from any malicious outsiders.

  The police also detain people for trial by our justice system. The new justice system mimics our old one, but punishments are usually quick and severe. Without jails to hold criminals, the police have resorted to immediate sentencing. Forced labor, community service, whipping, banishment, and executions are the only punishments now.