The Perseid Collapse

Chapter 14

EVENT +08:37 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex held the rucksack over his head with both hands and pushed through the chest-high mess that filled the water runoff ditch. A similar ditch ran parallel to his backyard on the other side of the neighborhood, emptying into the same retention pond east of the loop. He could only assume that the retention pond had been instantaneously filled by the initial tsunami wave, rendering the entire runoff system useless. He climbed out of the soupy mud, trailing thick strands of seaweed. Neither Kate nor the kids looked eager to step down into the light brown slush. He dropped his pack in the mud at his feet and slid down to the edge of the water.

“There has to be a better way to do this,” Kate said.

“You can walk around to the front of the neighborhood and say hi to everyone on the way in,” said Alex.

She shook her head and swung her backpack around, hesitating to take the plunge.

“Don’t worry,” Alex said, smiling, “the water’s warm.”

“Very funny,” Kate said, then mumbled, “I’ve heard that before.”

She stepped down into the water, quickly sinking to her waist, then the top of her neck. She teetered trying to keep the rucksack in the air, nearly toppling into the water. Alex really hoped that didn’t happen. Normally, he might find the idea of Kate falling unexpectedly into water utterly hilarious, and if the circumstances were right, he’d consider facilitating the situation. This wasn’t one of those times. She didn’t look the least bit amused with the situation.

“Are you going to stand there and watch me sink in to my eyebrows, or maybe help me with this pack?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.” Alex smirked. After a short pause, he waded into the water and grabbed her pack.

“That’s yours now, by the way. I’m done with that piece of shit,” she said, scrambling up the side of the ditch.

He broke into laughter. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you back in the water.”

“You can try.”

“I’ll ferry the rest of the packs across,” Alex offered. “I didn’t realize the water would come up so high on you—though I was really hoping there for a second.”

“If I had fallen in, you would be in the deepest shit you’ve ever been in.”

Alex heaved the last pack up to Kate and helped Emily out of the water, pulling her with both hands. He was surprised by the difficulty the group experienced crossing the small ditch. The five-mile hike in the blistering sun had pretty much sapped all of their energy, turning the simple act of crossing a waist-deep ditch into a chore. The water had felt good, though he had never once considered jumping into any of the standing water seen along their route. Hiking in wet pants and shoes was a recipe for disastrous chafing and blisters. Only the promise of dry clothing at the very end of their hike had drawn him across the ditch. He felt a pair of hands on his back.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, without turning around.

“Maybe another day. The water felt good, though,” Kate said, pulling him by his left hand.

“It did feel good, even though my pants are filled with mud.”

A minute later, they stepped onto the mud-swept street. The storm drain in front of the Murrays’ old house gushed dirty water onto the street, creating a shallow swamp that covered the street in front of several houses and crept up the driveways. Between the houses, the entire neighborhood resembled a mudflat, littered with downed trees, seaweed, and persistently scattered debris, complete with a small lake forming at the northeastern edge.

He didn’t see anyone standing outside, which struck him as odd. For some reason, he’d expected more activity, but the neighborhood was quiet except for the excited chatter of several birds. He kept forgetting that the wave had hit them over six hours ago. By now, most of them would be exhausted from a combination of fear, stress, heat and humidity. He hoped they stayed inside for the rest of the day. By tomorrow, he would be long gone.

Alex looked up the northern side of the Durham Road loop toward the top of the development. Water pumped less forcefully from the other storm drains he could observe, creating rivulets through the mud that fed the street pond. He stared in awe at the new landscape. Aside from the obvious orientation of the houses, there was nothing to indicate he was standing on a road. Something shifted in the pond, catching their attention. He knew what it was before anyone spoke.

“Is that… a body?” asked Kate.

“I think so. Let’s keep everyone moving. Don’t stop for—”

“Alex! Alex! Thank God almighty you’re here!” yelled Charlie Thornton from his front porch a few houses away.

Dressed in Vietnam-era, tiger-striped camouflage, clutching an overaccessorized AR-15-style rifle, Charlie sprinted down the granite stairs leading off his farmer’s porch. He grazed the light post to the left of his red-brick walkway with his left shoulder, nearly tumbling into the mud, and stomped through the slush across two lawns. He screamed their names, along with something about Chinese paratroopers. So much for a stealthy entry.

“I need this like a hole in the head right now,” mumbled Alex. “Take the kids home, and start filling containers with tap water. Bathtubs, glasses, coolers, anything that’ll hold water. I’ll be right there.”

“You’re alive! You made it! We’ve got a fucking invasion on our hands. I’ll get you a rifle—hold on. Bring everyone up to the house. We’re totally screwed, Alex. This is what we’ve been preparing for! Christ, what the hell happened to you? Looks like you stepped on a landmine. Hi, Kate,” said Charlie in a rapid-fire, adrenaline-induced stream of words.

“Hey, Charlie,” she responded and immediately turned to Alex. “I’ll see you at the house, honey.”

“Wait! Let me get you some weapons,” said Charlie.

“I think they can make it to our house without an armed escort. I’ll be right there, honey. Is the safety engaged on your rifle, Charlie?”

“Why does everyone always ask me about the safety?” Charlie asked, furtively thumbing the safety switch.

Alex put a hand on Charlie’s right shoulder. “Because I could see from thirty feet away that it wasn’t on, and you just bounced off a light post with your finger on the trigger. Good to see you, by the way. Is everyone all right in your house?”

“Uh, yeah, everyone is fine. The wave scared the shit out of the girls, but it didn’t tear through my house like the rest,” said Charlie.

“Anyone we know?” said Alex, motioning to the body stuck in the street pond.

“I don’t think so. Nobody in the neighborhood is missing. That one must have been completely buried in the mud until the water dislodged it. It’s not the first. We cleared a few out of the drainage ditches, and I hear that the Carters found one against the back of their house.”

“We saw bodies in the harbor, but none on the road. How is your basement?” Alex asked, knowing the answer.

“Completely flooded,” Charlie replied. “Came in through the shattered cellar windows in back. I hauled a lot of stuff up when I saw that glow in the sky to the west and our cars wouldn’t start. Mostly weapons and our bug-out bags. We’ve been hit by an EMP blast. That’s why I’m running around with my rifle. Chinese jeeps could come tearing through the neighborhood at any second.”

“I highly doubt we’re facing a Chinese invasion. We’ve definitely been hit by something, but I don’t expect paratroopers to appear in the skies above Scarborough any time soon,” said Alex, starting to walk on the sidewalk toward his house.

“That’s the problem, Alex. Nobody knows what’s happening. The radio is dead silent. No emergency broadcast. Nothing. We have to assume this is a full-scale invasion until proven otherwise. Where’s your pistol?”

“Taken by the Coast Guard. There’s really nothing being transmitted?”

Charlie shook his head. “Nothing at all. Hey! What do you mean taken by the Coast Guard?”

“Things are changing rapidly. Give me about an hour to assess the situation at my house; then we’ll meet up to figure out a game plan.”

“You’re going to Boston to get your son, right?”

“Yeah. I may leave tonight if it’s feasible. I’ll grab Ed’s kid too,” said Alex.

“You make sure to count me in on that one. I’m serious,” said Charlie, grabbing his arm and stopping him.

“I can’t ask you to follow me down there, Charlie.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I really appreciate that. I’ll keep you in the loop. Promise,” said Alex.

“I’ll keep myself in the loop, if you don’t mind. The thought of you and Ed cruising down to Boston on a search-and-rescue mission makes me cringe. Ed’s about as tactical as a circus clown.”

Alex couldn’t help laughing at the image. Charlie had an indomitable sense of humor that was infectious—to a point.

“What are we looking at with the rest of the neighborhood?”

“Everything seems calm for now,” said Charlie. “I went around with a few others to make sure everyone filled up on water. The basement flooding kind of fucked up a lot of people’s emergency stockpiles. They’ll be fine once the water drains—if it drains. Wait until you see the retention pond—I mean lake.”

“Looks like I’m in for some snorkeling. I have some shit I need down there, and I don’t have that kind of time. Give me an hour, man,” said Alex.

“You got it, buddy. Hey, I might need to borrow one of your snorkeling masks. I didn’t get all of my toys out of the basement. Forgot the thermal scope.”

“Thermal scope? You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

“Doesn’t sound so crazy now, does it?” said Charlie.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. By the way, I think you’re about five decades behind with your camouflage choice. I haven’t seen anyone wear tiger-stripe cammies since—”

“John Wayne. Green Berets. The guy was a legend. I watched that movie with my dad when I was nine years old. We watched it every year since. This was the first and only pair of camouflage I’ve ever used hunting. Well, I’ve made some modifications over the years, and replaced the trousers, but you get the picture.”

“John Wayne.” Alex laughed. “He also played Davy Crocket in The Alamo, which means you should be wearing that squirrel cover of yours too.”

“He wore a coonskin cap, and his had the raccoon face in front. I have a collector’s edition in my office, but it’s in a glass case. You’re talking about this one,” said Charlie, pulling his famed coonskin cap out of his right cargo pocket.

“Damn, that thing’s ugly. Looks like it’s seen better years,” said Alex, exaggerating a look of dismay.

“Never missed a shot wearing this baby. You know that better than anyone,” he said, proudly donning the cap and creating the most ridiculous-looking outfit Alex had ever seen.

“That I do. See you in a few.”

Alex saluted Charlie and picked up Kate’s backpack, turning toward the southern side of the Durham Road loop. Kate and the kids had already disappeared behind the Bradys’ house, which made him slightly nervous. He wasn’t sure why, but Charlie had made a solid point. Without any information, they truly had no idea what they were up against. While Charlie’s theories about a Chinese invasion force were too farfetched for Alex’s vivid imagination, nobody could deny that they were on the receiving end of a massive, wide-scale “event.” Man made or natural, he didn’t think it mattered. The result would be the same.

Chaos.

Chapter 15

EVENT +08:45 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

The mud wasn’t as deep immediately in front of Alex’s house, most likely because the house had deflected the initial surge and created a buffer. He stepped between two pine bushes that defiantly protruded from the muck and landed on what he knew logically was the slate walkway connecting the front door to the driveway. He could hear activity in the house, and hoped that Kate would open one of the doors for him. He didn’t feel like dragging her pack through the backyard.

The act of finally arriving at their destination had suddenly deprived him of energy, as if his mind had involuntarily dampened his sympathetic nervous system, reducing production of the hormones responsible for his fight-or-flight response to the day’s event. It didn’t surprise him, considering that he’d been engaged in this mode since five in the morning. There would be no break in his immediate future. Right now, he needed to make an assessment of their situation, starting with their Chevy Tahoe.

He saw Kate’s face appear in the mudroom door window and headed for the granite stoop. He had a bad feeling that the word “mudroom” was about to take on a whole new meaning. She cracked the door a few inches, allowing a thick stream of water to pour through the opening onto their porch before pulling it the rest of the way. He glanced at the bottoms of the double garage doors and saw a thin stream of water leaking from the far left bay. Shit. His garage had filled too. So much for their bug-out vehicle.

Kate appeared with a tired look. “I’m estimating that to be about a foot and a half. The family room’s the same. The rest of the floors are covered in about six inches of this wonderful shit slime. Be careful once you’re inside. It all looks the same depth.”

“Have you checked the basement?”

“I came right here to let you in. We had to climb over what’s left of the deck,” said Kate.

Alex handed over her backpack, and she hung it on one of the empty coat hooks while his eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior of their house. The first thing he noticed was the high-water stain on the drywall, less than an inch from the ceiling. That couldn’t be right. He scanned the entire mudroom and saw the same line just below the ceiling. He nearly tripped over one of their kitchen island stools examining the roof. He heard the water pipes running in the house and looked through the doorway to the kitchen.

“The kids are filling up the bathtubs,” she responded.

“Good. At least the water still works—what are the chances that the Tahoe still runs?”

“Give it a shot,” Kate said. “If it works, we’ll have half a chance to get Ryan.”

“I’ll get him back no matter what,” Alex said, stepping over to the door.

“I know. I know. I just… looking around here, I’m not hopeful about his chances if this thing hit closer to Boston.”

Alex stepped away from the garage door and held her tight, nestling his head next to her ear and kissing her neck.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll start walking tonight if I have to. This is nothing. A minor bump in the road. In three days, we’ll be eating at a picnic table with my parents in Limerick,” he whispered.

“Not if you’re walking,” said Kate.

“Ten days. Let’s check the Tahoe and see what we’re dealing with.”

Alex opened the door to the garage and was greeted by a foot of mud, which reached the bottom of the truck’s doors. Silt and small debris covered the black Tahoe from top to bottom. The deluge of water, which at one point had risen above the Tahoe, had upended the garage. A red plastic gas can sat on the SUV’s roof, while the rest of the garage’s tools and sporting goods equipment was nowhere to be seen, presumably under the water. He pressed the key fob to unlock the SUV and was rewarded by the familiar chirping sound. He pressed it again and heard the door mechanisms activate.

“Good news, honey,” he said, hopeful for the first time since waking up this morning.

He jumped into the mud and splashed across the empty bay to reach the SUV, tripping on something submerged below the surface. Quickly regaining his balance, he yanked the door open, which released a small quantity of foamy water into the muck below.

“That’s not a good sign,” she said.

He pocketed the key fob and hopped into the truck, pressing the keyless ignition button. The batteries turned the engine over, and for a few glorious moments, he thought the Tahoe might start. He should have known better. The 2018 Tahoe hybrid was one of the most technologically advanced heavy SUVs on the market. The commercials likened it to a fly-by-wire aircraft, where every aspect of its performance was monitored and controlled by multiple onboard computers. It was one of the safest, most fuel-efficient vehicles of its kind thanks to cutting-edge technology. Now this revolutionary beast was simply in the way of the bicycles hanging on the far side of the garage. He looked at Kate and smiled.

“I always wanted to mountain bike all the way to Boston on the Eastern Trail.”

Kate stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to picture Charlie on a hundred-mile bike ride.” She chuckled.

Alex hopped into the water and walked to the garage door in the empty bay.

“I remember him doing that trek across Maine thing a few years ago,” said Alex, pulling on the red garage door manual release toggle above his head.

“Uh—I’m pretty sure he rode an ambulance most of the way back,” said Kate.

Alex pulled the door upward, releasing a flood of sludge down the driveway. He lifted the door all the way and was startled to see Ed standing a few feet away, holding two coffee mugs.

“This is what I get for bringing over fresh coffee?” he said, staring down at his dirtied shoes.

“Is that really coffee?” said Kate, her caffeine instincts savagely activated.

“French roast. Had just enough to make two cups,” he said, extending the mugs.

Alex and Kate accepted the mugs and carefully sipped the steaming hot liquid. Alex felt the caffeine immediately, which provided a needed boost to counteract his mental fatigue.

“You’re a life saver, Ed,” he said, shaking his hand and guiding him into the garage. “Come on in. I’d offer you a seat, but—”

“Our house got it the same. You should have seen it, man. Charlie was over when it hit. One minute I was trying to convince him that the Chinese hadn’t invaded, the next we were running for the staircase. The water flattened the fence behind us and slammed into the house a few seconds later. Filled the first floor to the ceiling within minutes—no shit. It was unbelievable.”

“We got lucky here. I’ve seen roofing tile and other debris that must have come from Higgins Beach,” said Alex.

“They found a sign for the Higgins Beach Lodge up at the top of the street. That used to be up on the third floor of the hotel. The beach has to be gone,” said Ed.

“How’s Samantha holding up?” said Kate, taking her lips away from the coffee for the first time.

“All right, given the Boston situation,” he said.

“I’m going to supervise the water hoarding and let the two of you plan the next move. Ed—you’re a lifesaver,” she said, holding up the mug of coffee. “I’d kiss you, but Alex might be mad that I stole his kiss.”

“Nice. Get a little caffeine in her and she’s ready for improv,” replied Alex.

After Kate disappeared into the house, Alex addressed the primary concern of both families.

“We have to get the kids, and it’s not going to be an easy trip. The families will go to my parents’ farm in Limerick, and we’ll head to Boston,” said Alex.

“Sam’s not taking this well at all. I didn’t want to say that in front of Kate, but she’s on the verge of a breakdown. We have no idea what’s happening out there. Nobody does,” said Ed.

“Chloe will be fine. She knows what to do in case of an emergency like this. Ryan and Chloe will link up at one of their places and wait for us. Five days is the plan,” said Alex.

“What if they don’t wait? This is something different altogether. The city will start falling apart by tonight,” said Ed.

“That’s why we aren’t going to waste any time getting down there. They’ll be there when we arrive,” said Alex.

“That’s what I told Sam. She wanted me to leave earlier this morning. Try to get both of them, but—man, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. There was no way I could have pulled that off. Sorry, that sounded terrible. I’m just glad you guys made it back. I wasn’t hopeful, sailboat and all. You look like shit by the way. Almost as bad as John McClane at the end of a Die Hard movie.”

“It wasn’t good. I think we got lucky, to be honest,” Alex said, suddenly aware of the pain shooting down his right arm.

He switched the coffee mug from his right to left hand and tried to extend his arm into the air, barely able to get the upper arm a few degrees over the plane of his shoulder.

“I thought you got that fixed?” asked Ed.

“That was the other side,” he said, referring to the multiple surgeries required to restore full mobility to the shoulder destroyed by a marauder’s shotgun blast during the chaos of the Jakarta Pandemic.

“This is part of my new suite of injuries. I jammed my arm between the spokes on the steering wheel so—”

“On purpose?”

“It was the only way to keep the wheel from spinning out of control. We almost lost the boat,” Alex said.

He raised the sleeve on his T-shirt and saw that a baseball-sized area on his upper tricep had turned a sickening black-purple color that looked more urgent than simple bruising.

“You need to have someone look at that. I’m surprised you can use the arm at all,” said Ed.

“It’s fine. The more I use it the better.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine until you wake up tomorrow and can’t move it at all. You need to at least put some ice on that and take some ibuprofen. Check your freezer. You should still have some ice.”

“All right. Give me a few—”

His sentence was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. Charlie Thornton appeared, running full throttle up the driveway, waving a satellite phone in front of his face. Alex glanced at his rifle.

“The safety’s on, you fucking nervous nellies,” Charlie said peevishly.

“That wasn’t an hour. More like five minutes, Charlie,” said Alex.

“I know, but Samantha said Ed was over here. Take a look,” he said, waving the phone in Alex’s face. “Damn thing’s been quiet all morning, then whammo! Emergency broadcast! Just like they said it would work. Looks like all the money FEMA spent on this didn’t go to waste.”

“Can I see it?” asked Alex.

Charlie handed the phone to Alex, and they all huddled over the digital screen to read the broadcast.

The information created just as many questions as it answered. If the tsunami was caused by an asteroid strike, what caused the EMP? Widespread power outages? No kidding. Why didn’t NASA confirm the strikes? Are they offline? Why mention Homeland Security instead of FEMA? He handed the phone back to Charlie.

“Well, at least we’re not dealing with a Chinese invasion,” said Charlie.

“Unless the Chinese sent that message,” said Ed.

“Ed,” Alex warned, “don’t screw with him like that. Please.”

“He’s right, though,” Charlie admitted. “None of this makes sense.”

“Why would you do that, Ed?” pleaded Alex.

“I love to sit back and watch the two of you argue about this stuff,” said Ed.

“Thanks. I think we’re fine, Charlie. There’s more to what they’re telling us, but the asteroid thing makes sense. A second burst of wind hit us from the east, which is the direction of Nova Scotia,” said Alex.

“I sure as shit hope so,” Charlie replied. “I don’t plan on letting them put me into a forced labor camp to make smart phones for the Europeans.”

Alex sighed. “All right. I really need, like, thirty minutes to go through the house and figure out where we stand.”

“Forget about anything in the basement,” said Charlie.

“Unfortunately, I need to retrieve some essential gear for our trip. One of our bikes is down there too. I need that for Ethan,” said Alex.

“Why don’t you just give him yours?” Charlie asked, pointing at the rack of bicycles hanging on the far wall.

“Because there’s four in my group, and I only have three bikes in the garage? I don’t plan on walking to Boston.”

“Who said anything about biking to Boston? Ed’s Jeep survived the EMP.”

“Shit, Charlie! Will you keep that down?” hissed Ed, pulling them deep into the garage. “I wasn’t going to say anything until we got inside, Alex, but we’re taking the Wrangler down to Boston.”

“Isn’t the fuel system contaminated?”

“I checked it out,” said Charlie. “It’s fine as far as I can tell, and I know a thing or two about cars.”

“I didn’t think you could submerge a Jeep,” said Alex.

“You can’t, but it didn’t get submerged.”

“How? The water in my garage reached the ceiling. We can’t run the risk of that engine seizing up ten miles down the road, Ed.”

“It was pure luck. I went into the garage to start the cars, but decided to open both garage bay doors first. After opening the second door, I thought about the hand-cranked radio on one of the shelves. I brought the radio inside and got distracted. From what I could tell, the water never rose over the wheel wells. Just flowed right out of the garage,” said Ed.

“Un—believable. You win the EMP car lottery and take it one step further by accidentally saving the car. You need to hit Vegas when this is over,” said Alex.

“If Vegas ever goes back online, I’ll book the first flight.”

“I guess we have some planning to do,” said Alex.

“We should probably leave for Boston in a few hours,” Ed suggested. “Two hours there, two hours back, give or take an hour or two. We should be back before dark.”

“It’s not going to be that easy. We have no idea what happened down in Boston or the seacoast of New Hampshire. We could be looking at this,” he gestured to the neighborhood wreckage, “times ten.”

“We can swing further inland once we cross into New Hampshire, get away from the 95. Between the two cars, I have a full tank. That’s twenty-two gallons, more than enough to get to Boston and back to Limerick. We can throw a few extra gas cans in the Jeep to give us more range.”

“Distance won’t be the problem. There’s something else. We watched the police commandeer civilian vehicles in South Portland, and one of the petty officers at the Coast Guard station said they had been instructed to disarm civilians on sight. They tossed my pistol in the water without hesitation. What if the police are doing this everywhere?”

“I would have flattened any son of a bitch who tried to take my pistol,” said Charlie.

“I had a 240 ‘bravo’ pointed at my head, Charlie. Not a lot of choice there. I think we need to give the police a day to simmer and replace their motor pool, then set out first thing tomorrow with a solid plan,” said Alex.

“That’s almost twenty-four hours away. Samantha’s gonna flip out when she hears this,” said Ed.

“We’ll get everyone together and explain the situation. Based on what I’ve seen so far, putting a functional vehicle on the road today is a risky move, especially considering the type of equipment we’ll need to bring with us to ensure our safety in Boston. If they’re tossing civilian pistols into the water without a second thought, imagine what’ll happen when we try to explain a trunk full of combat rifles.”

“What’s to stop them from confiscating our car tomorrow? We’d be in the same situation, except we’d have lost a day,” said Ed.

“There is no guarantee. Just a gut feeling based on experience. By tomorrow, people will start venturing out onto the roads. Anyone with a car will try to leave the more populated areas. They know it’s only a matter of time before the situation explodes. With more cars on the road, the police will have their hands full. The most I expect to encounter is a checkpoint or two along the way. They’ll be focused on traffic heading north. We’ll be headed south. I’ve seen this before. Every time we rolled up on a city in Iraq, the same thing happened. The streets went quiet while everyone tried to figure out if we planned to launch a major offensive or bypass the city. The next day? Mayhem. Cars backed up into the city along the main roads, families fleeing on foot, carrying suitcases and valuables. If we wait until tomorrow, we’ll be able to blend in and lower our risk of attracting attention.”

“I’m going to need you to explain this to my wife. She’s ready to drive down to Boston herself.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking overall. Early tomorrow, we put the families on bicycles and send them out to my parents’ place in Limerick. It’ll take them four hours tops to get there.”

“Longer if the roads are like this across town,” said Ed.

“True. They’ll have to walk the bikes down Harrison Road at least a mile before it eases up. Maybe longer. Anyway, at the same time, we head south for Boston. If all goes well on our end, we’ll be back with the kids in time for dinner. Everyone is welcome to stay at the farm as long as they’d like. It’s up to you guys. I don’t plan on returning here once we retrieve the kids,” said Alex.

“Thanks, Alex. I’ll have to talk it over with Sam. A lot will depend on what we see out there.”

“I know Linda will want to wait it out, but maybe I can convince her to do the waiting in a less populated area,” said Charlie.

“We’ll have running water and electricity, if that helps sway your decision,” said Alex.

Charlie asked, “Won’t the solar panels be fried?”

“We have two banks of solar panels, each fully independent, with its own controller, inverter and battery storage bank. One of the two systems is disconnected at all times. No link to the grid and all cables detached. The solar panels themselves should be fine, according to the manufacturer,” said Alex, shrugging his shoulders.

“The prospect of hot showers and cold drinks might sway the vote, my friend. It’s going to get really rustic around here—really quick,” said Charlie.

“That’s a fact. How about we give you some time to dig through the house?” Ed asked. “I’ll bring cold beers over in an hour or so, and we’ll work out the rest of the details. I should have Sam onboard with the plan by then.”

“Sounds good. Hey—does anyone else know about the Jeep?” asked Alex.

“Jamie was in her garage across the street when I started it. I let it run for a few minutes to make sure the fuel system was fine. Both of her garage doors were open.”

“I suggest you shut both bay doors and reengage the manual release. Make sure it’s locked. How about the door on the side? Looks like mine was busted open by the water.”

“Busted, along with the windows,” said Ed.

“At some point sooner than later, we need to shore up your garage so nobody can get in and try to steal your car. I’d be willing to bet that Jamie wasn’t the only person in the neighborhood to hear the engine start. The only thing I’ve heard so far is the water spilling out of the sewers.”

“I heard him start the car from inside my house,” said Charlie.

“Then it looks like we may be spending the night at Ed’s house and posting a watch. You’re holding the winning lottery ticket, Ed, except your ticket is a thousand times more valuable than any of this weekend’s winning mega-bucks tickets. I’ll swing by when I’m done taking an inventory here. Stay safe, guys. We all know what can happen around here when things get desperate.”

Chapter 16

EVENT +09:13 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex started his mental inventory before Ed and Charlie had disappeared down the driveway. He’d have to adjust for their updated transportation situation, which would simplify the process but force them to make some painful decisions. They would have to leave most of their gear and supplies behind, opting for lighter, more practical immediate survival load-outs suitable for bicycle or foot mobile operations. The Fletchers’ bug-out plan had always been relatively simple, since they had never anticipated travelling any farther than Alex’s parents’ farm roughly thirty-five miles away. The comprehensive escape plan accounted for the use of two vehicles, but could be scaled down to accommodate any level of timeframe and transit mode. In this case, they would have to reconfigure for a bicycle trip and a forty-eight-hour, low-intensity urban combat mission. Two vastly different operations, with distinctly different objectives.

The bicycle group’s individual load-out would be designed for thirty-six hours, with a focus on additional hydration. He would recommend that each person carry ten liters of water, in a combination of three-liter CamelBaks and additional stainless-steel bottles. Four MREs, a dozen energy bars, a flashlight or headlamp, one change of clothing and footwear stuffed in a waterproof bag, one emergency blanket, and a serrated folding knife would round out the mandatory individual load. Within the group, they would have to carry a first aid kit, road maps, enough camping tents to accommodate everyone, binoculars to scout the road ahead, toilet paper, a satellite phone, and of course—firearms.

His vision for the Boston mission involved a twenty-four-hour tactical kit, for operations in and around the city, and a forty-eight-hour sustainability pack in case they were forced to abandon the vehicle at any point during their journey. They could carry extra gear and “luxuries” in the Jeep, but Alex would configure their essential equipment for immediate evacuation. If something went severely wrong on the road, he didn’t need Charlie and Ed fumbling around the SUV, trying to collect their shit. Vehicles had a tendency to attract projectiles in that kind of situation.

He’d instituted a “five second” rule for his Amphibious Assault Vehicle Company in Iraq. If one of his vehicle commanders gave the order to abandon their AAV, each marine had their essential gear stashed where they could “grab and go” within five seconds. The rule had saved numerous lives on the road to Baghdad. The road to Boston wouldn’t be lined with rocket-propelled grenades, machine-gun teams and improvised explosive devices, but it had the potential to be just as deadly. Their Jeep would undoubtedly attract the wrong kind of attention, topping the list of high-value targets wherever they drove.

His group would be heavily armed, but a gunfight before reaching their destination would most likely represent the loss of their vehicle. A numerically superior force would push them away from the SUV. They might escape with their lives, but they’d lose the Jeep. A smaller group could irreparably damage the car, leaving them in the same situation. They would seek the path of least resistance to the outskirts of Boston, even if it meant adding significant mileage and time to their trip. Detect and avoid. The complete opposite of his mission in Iraq.

He stepped into the mudroom and moved the stools into the bathroom shower stall, glancing at the sink, which was filled with dark brown silt. The sink burped, splattering a small bubble of silt onto the walls. The sewer system was useless at this point. He wondered what would happen if they tried to flush the toilets.

“Kate?” he yelled.

“Yeah?” she replied from the kitchen.

“Is the sink backed up in there?”

“Sort of. It’s filled with mud, but I’ve managed to clean some of it out. It’s draining really slowly.”

“How about upstairs?”

“Everything looked normal up there, like nothing happened,” she said.

Alex leaned out of the bathroom door. “I think we should restrict our use of the bathrooms to the upstairs, and stop using the toilets at the first sign of a backup. I’m afraid to flush the one down here. The last thing we need is raw sewage in the house.”

“I’ll let the kids know; then I’m going to start on lunch. I think we can skip the water hoarding. Between the garage and closet, we’ll be leaving most of it behind when we head out,” she said.

“Yeah, I agree. Sounds like they finished filling the tubs, anyway. That should be enough, just in case something keeps us from leaving.”

“So Ed’s Jeep works?” she added.

“Apparently. It’ll get us to Boston a hell of a lot quicker than biking down,” said Alex.

“Why don’t we ferry the rest of the group back and forth to Limerick? I don’t know about leading a group of nine women and kids on bikes through this crap,” said Kate.

“Once you get a mile or two inland, you’ll be on dry pavement,” said Alex.

“Easy for you to say, cruising by in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. You could at least get us to Route 11.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Kate. It’ll take at least two round trips if we do it that way. That Jeep will have a big bull’s-eye on it wherever it goes. We can’t have it repeatedly cruising back and forth through Scarborough, or any towns, for that matter. We especially can’t bring it back here. The neighbors will be all over us. Once that Jeep drives out of the garage, it can’t come back. Which reminds me, before we leave, we have to sanitize the house of any information that could lead people out to Limerick, or we’ll have a refugee camp on our hands.”

“Could you turn any of these people away if they showed up out there?” Kate asked.

“No, but I don’t plan on making it easy for them to find us.”

Kate flashed him an annoyed look, which he could live with for now. He crossed the sludge-covered floor to the small study that Kate and Alex used as a temporary refuge from the noise level created by teenagers and the ever-blaring television in the family room. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelf had been emptied of its contents, with the exception of the top shelf, which had stubbornly held onto several overturned picture frames. Hundreds of books lay in various states of damage at the base of the bookshelf, forming a two-foot high, unstable pile of soggy pulp and wilted hardcovers. The brown leather chairs were covered in half-dried filth, one of them home to a mangled, brushed silver lamp and one half of the window’s plantation shutters. He remembered seeing the other white shutter under the bench in the mudroom. He opened the study closet to take his first real inventory. In all likelihood, they wouldn’t need much more than what he could salvage from the closet—aside from the guns, ammunition and a few select gadgets. Actually, this closet was just the “tip of the iceberg.”

The right side of the closet housed built-in shelves that held a dozen 2.5-gallon jugs of spring water, two 120-serving “grab and go” buckets of freeze-dried vegetables and a black nylon duffel bag filled with twenty military-grade MREs. This stockpile represented more than enough food and water to satisfy the needs of his family during tomorrow’s exodus. He knew that Charlie and Ed kept similar stockpiles on their first floors, so there would be no need to waste time retrieving additional food or water from the basement. Two dark green, metal .50 caliber ammunition cans sat on the top shelf, below the wall’s high-water mark. He pulled both of them down and set them on the antique cherry wood desk against the interior wall of the house.

He opened the canister marked “EG” to confirm that it had not leaked. From what he could tell by visual examination, the waterproof seal had held as advertised, sparing the electronics gear from any water damage. The converted storage can held two Iridium satellite phones, a handheld GPS plotter, a pair of two-way VHF handheld radios, a handheld radio scanner and three thirty-round .223 AR magazines. He reached deep into the canister to feel for water or moisture. Thankfully, it was bone dry. He pocketed the full AR magazines before closing the canister.

The second canister, marked “RG,” held each item’s charging kit and adapter, in addition to a folding solar panel, battery power pack and AC inverter. Ziploc bags filled with loose AA and AAA batteries sat at the bottom of the can. He quickly checked for water damage, finding the same result. No leakage.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the individual BOLT (Basic Operations for Limited Time) kits assigned to each member of the family. Stuffed together on the floor to the left of the shelving unit, each rucksack was identified by a strip of duct tape with a name. The mud and water that had reached the ceiling earlier had peeled the tape and faded the lettering, but he still recognized the names. He plucked his pack out of the mud and grunted at the waterlogged weight. They’d have to unpack each kit and scavenge for items they could add to the dry rucksacks hauled out of the sailboat.

He hoped that the national state of emergency had shut down the court system. There was little doubt in his mind that Kate would present him with divorce papers after riding for thirty-five miles with the “three day” pack on her back. Kate was going to kick his ass when she heard the news, but there was little way around it. The larger, infinitely more comfortable internal frame packs he’d chosen for their BOLT kits wouldn’t dry by tomorrow morning, and their commercial hiking packs were buried under ten feet of water in the basement.

He carried the MOLLE II rucksack to the kitchen island, and dropped it onto the granite. Kate, who was in the middle of preparing cheese sandwiches on an area of the counter she had cleaned, stared at the pack with a look of disgust. She shook her head.

“I can’t ride to Limerick with that piece of shit on my back.”

“It’s smaller than this pack. Might be easier to balance while riding,” offered Alex.

“No. We can dry these in the sun on the patio. I’m not putting that thing on my back again. Mayonnaise on your sandwich?” she said, displaying her patented “I’m happy” smile.

“I love you,” he said, unzipping one of the outer sustainment pouches on the pack.

“Really? Even though I fully blame you for ripping my shoulders up with your crappy backpacks?”

“Especially after that,” he said, pulling a compressed, lightweight sleeping bag out of the sustainment pouch.

She eyed the dripping, down-filled ball that once qualified as a sleeping bag.

“I have a feeling those won’t dry by tomorrow,” she said.

He shook his head and removed the other item stuffed in the pouch, expanding the grayish, universal camouflage-patterned Gore-Tex sleeping bag shell and shaking the water from it.

“This is probably all you’ll need if you get stuck overnight. Maybe one of the emergency blankets. I’ll strip the packs down and hang them on what’s left of the deck in the sun,” he said.

“I’ll have some lunch ready in a few minutes. Sandwiches and canned vegetable soup, plus a bag of barbeque chips that I found in the family room,” she said.

“Sounds like heaven,” he replied, turning his attention to the basement door.

He pulled an LED flashlight out of the MOLLE pack and tested it, pleased to find that neither the water nor the EMP had knocked it out of commission. As far as he could tell, most handheld electronics or battery-powered devices continued to function, consistent with the CNI Revised Report’s assessment of the effects of an EMP burst on portable electronics. Then again, the Revised Report seemed to be all over the place in terms of accuracy. The predicted 60% failure rate for automobiles seemed generous at this point. His own observations supported a rate in the high nineties.

Alex opened the door to the basement and flashed the light down the stairwell. The light reflected a Stygian pool that reached the fourth stair from the top and rose above the bottom of the basement ceiling. He extinguished the flashlight and stepped into the stairwell, closing the door behind him. He was immediately cast into absolute darkness and silence. Peaceful, yet suffocating. He let his eyes adjust for a few moments, peering into the water, searching for any sign of light from the basement windows. Nothing. This wasn’t good. He needed a few specialty items locked away in his bunker. Actually, he didn’t really need them, he wanted them. And he wanted them badly enough to consider taking a swim in the blackness beneath him. He opened the door, grateful for the sunlight.

“The basement is a total loss. Water up to the ceiling. Look at this,” he announced, looking back down into the impenetrable darkness.

Kate joined him at the door. “I don’t think you should go down there.”

Alex shut the door. “Who said anything about me taking a swim?”

“I can tell by the way you’re staring down at the water, like your mind was plotting something that it really shouldn’t.”

“My night vision gear is down there, along with most of the weapons and ammunition,” said Alex.

“Uh huh. I thought there was enough ammo in the BOLT kits.”

He didn’t feel like getting into it with her. She was right, sort of. Each pack held two full, thirty-round AR magazines, in addition to two fifteen-round 9mm magazines for the Heckler and Koch P30C pistol. When you added it to all of the ammunition available in the study closet, it equaled far more than enough to handle a worst-case scenario, “guns blazing” transit from Scarborough to his parents’ farm, but Boston presented a whole new level of shit storm to the equation, and he had no intention of underestimating the level of chaos he might need to navigate to find their children.

Even his firearm situation was less than optimal given the circumstances. He had a rifle, shotgun and one pistol upstairs, which once again sounded like overkill, but he’d need the rifle and pistol for Boston, leaving Kate with the shotgun. Not exactly the ideal firearm to haul along on a bicycle. He needed to grab his backup AR and a pistol for Emily, some rifle attachments stored in one of several sealed canisters next to the gun safe, ammunition for the rifles and pistols, and his night vision gear. The night vision would provide a significant tactical advantage inside Boston, allowing him to detect and avoid most potentially hazardous human situations.

“I’ll grab the kids for lunch,” he said.

Alex removed his shoes once he reached the top of the staircase, wondering why he’d bothered. Judging from the multiple mud prints leading in every direction on the hardwood floor, neither Kate nor the kids had bothered to do the same, and it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference. His whole body was still dripping dirty water from their ditch crossing. For tactical reasons, he supposed he should keep them on, especially with the state of uncertainty smothering them from all sides, but he’d already left them at the top of the stairs. He turned left into Emily’s room and found her packing a laundry basket of personal belongings. Small items from what he could tell.

“You all right, sweetie?”

“We’re not coming back here, are we, Dad?” she asked, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Not until it’s safe, which could be a while.”

He stepped into her room and touched one of her picture collages on the wall near the bedroom door. They’d given her a framed collage of family photos every year on her birthday, starting when she was three. He loved looking at them, though they visually represented how quickly she had changed from a squeaky little girl to a headstrong young woman. They’d have to leave all of this behind, and hope it would still be here when they returned. He turned around with watery eyes and fought not to say anything about the laundry basket of stuff she wouldn’t be able to bring.

“Mom made some sandwiches. Everyone needs to fuel up on some real food before we get to work this afternoon. We still have a long day ahead of us.”

“What’s happening out there? I mean, what is this?”

“Mr. Thornton got a broadcast on his satellite phone. They say that an asteroid broke up over the U.S. and hit the East Coast. I think we got lucky.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” Emily said, wiping her eyes and walking to the door.

“I do. I’ve got you and your mom safe. Ethan too. Once we get Ryan back, I’ll be the luckiest man on the planet,” he said, hugging her tightly.

“You’re the corniest dad on the planet. You said Mom made some real food? What’s the occasion?”

“Digging on your mom and dad in the face of the apocalypse?” said Alex.

“You know I love you, Dad. I’ll get Ethan and meet you downstairs,” she said and disappeared.

He glanced at the laundry basket, wondering if there was any way he could sneak the contents into one of the spare rucksacks and stash it in the Jeep. Not likely, but he might give it a try anyway. Alex ran into Ethan and Emily on the way out of her room.

“Tell your mother I’ll be right down.”

Once they had descended the stairs, he hurried into the bedroom and vanished into the darkness of the walk-in closet to change out of his putrid clothes into shorts and a T-shirt for now. His right arm ached as he lifted the shirt over his head. He’d have to tend to this injury immediately after lunch. Losing the effective use of his dominant arm would be a showstopper for Boston. He pushed the pain aside and finished changing. He reached for the bedroom door, but paused, thinking about what Charlie had said. He didn’t expect Chinese paratroopers to drop from the skies, but it couldn’t hurt to be ready for trouble.

Alex parted the shoulder-level curtain of clothing at the back of the closet and touched the keypad, illuminating the numbers. He’d felt confident that the keypad would function, but had the option of opening the gun safe manually with a hidden key if the electronics had succumbed to the EMP. Alex punched in the eight-digit code on the keypad mounted on the stand-up gun safe, and heard the mechanisms within the door shift.

He pulled on the handle, activating a small blue LED light within the safe, removed the HK P30 pistol sitting on the shelf above the rifles, and started to move it to his drop-down holster. He stopped, realizing that he’d have to thoroughly clean the holster first. The pistol could wait.

The rifle emerged next, along with a green polymer thirty-round .223 magazine. He inserted the magazine and rapidly pulled the charging handle, chambering a round. He placed the rifle against the side of the safe and took the MOLLE tactical chest rig from a hook on the back wall. He donned the rig over his clothes and filled the eight magazine pouches with spare rifle magazines from the top shelf of the safe, bringing his immediately available total to twenty magazines, or six hundred rounds. He may not have to dive for the additional .223 ammunition from the basement, which suited him fine.

He swapped out the two mud-encrusted pistol magazines from his holster rig and replaced them with clean polymer fifteen-round 9mm magazines from the safe. Three additional pistol magazines filled the smaller pouches on the left side of his modular chest rig. A total of six pistol magazines would be more than enough. Standing in his closet, he carried more ammunition than he’d fielded during combat operations in Iraq. Alex closed the safe and picked up the HK416 rifle.

Closely resembling the M4 carbine, the HK416 represented an improvement over the venerable M4 design, offering superior reliability and durability under all conditions. Extensive field-testing over the past decade consistently demonstrated the advantages of Heckler and Koch’s proprietary rifle system over the traditional variants of the M4, leading to its adoption by the United States Army and United States Marine Corps as their primary battle rifle. Alex had chosen to purchase and train with the civilian variant of the HK416 that most closely resembled the standard military-issued rifle.

Featuring a 16.5-inch heavy barrel, quad floating rails, vertical fore grip and telescoping stock, his rifle was nearly indistinguishable from its military counterpart. He had even opted to mount a Trijicon 4X Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight (ACOG) to the rifle, further mimicking standard marine issue. The Marine Corps had long ago equipped every rifle in their inventory with a variation of the ACOG sight, bucking the long-standing tradition of relying upon iron sights. Alex compromised by installing flip up iron sights on forty-five degree angle rail mounts, giving him the option of canting the rifle and using iron sights for close-in engagements.

A minute later, he ran into Kate at the bottom of the stairs, holding a plateful of sandwiches out to him.

“We’re already at this point?” she commented, nodding at his gear.

“We were there as soon as the EMP hit. Eating upstairs?”

“We could all use a break from the mud. The kids will bring the rest of the food up. I say we clean up and start over. Wash the day off while we still have running water. Lunch once everyone looks and smells human again,” said Kate, handing him the plate.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll grab one of the coolers from the garage. I put some beers and sodas in the freezer for now. I’ll dump the drinks and some ice in the cooler and meet you upstairs,” she said.

“Good. I could use a beer before swimming around the basement,” said Alex.

“You’re still planning on going down there?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t see any other option, unless you want to ride to Limerick with a shotgun.”

“No thanks. You still need a shower, by the way—not that I can smell you over myself.”

“The whole neighborhood is going to smell ten times worse in a few days. This crap isn’t going anywhere,” he said.

“Good thing we won’t be here.”

Chapter 17

EVENT +09:57

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex sat on the top stair and splashed his feet in the pitch-black water, desperately trying to convince himself that he didn’t need any of the equipment in the basement. He could think of twenty good reasons why he shouldn’t submerge himself in the darkness below, most of them safety related, some of them purely irrational. His overly active imagination had swept the worst sea creatures conceivable two miles inland with the tsunami, to be deposited through the basement window.

He wore a blue swimsuit, tight-fitting polyester running shirt, and swim fins. A diver’s mask and snorkel, which he’d taken from the boat and stashed in his rucksack, sat on his lap. He’d gotten lucky with that decision. Since the Maine coast wasn’t exactly renowned for its crystal-clear waters, the rest of their snorkeling gear was in the basement, where it waited for a trip to Florida or the Caribbean. They’d always carried at least one snorkeling kit onboard the sailboat for practical reasons. Over the past five years, he’d gone over the side more times than he could count to clean seaweed from the propeller or disentangle a lobster pot line from the rudder.

His biggest fear was the electricity. What if the grid was restored while he was submerged? He knew this wouldn’t happen, but the thought dogged him. The waterline was well above the breaker box, exposed directly to the house’s external utility feed. He pushed this thought as far away as possible, focusing on the more immediate, tangible challenges he’d face underwater. Breathing always came in at the top of his mental list.

From what he could tell, the water pushed up against the basement ceiling. He might find a pocket of air between ceiling joists if the water level was a few inches below the floorboard, but the air would be limited. Using the snorkel to access the air presented a few risks. With only a few inches of dry space, he would have to be extremely careful not to tip the snorkel and inhale water. Low on air deep inside the basement, a panicked moment could kill him. This assumed he could find a few pockets of air. If not, he’d have to take the entire operation slowly, making multiple trips to unlock doors, safes, clear debris—all culminating in a few long, unobstructed trips to haul out his perceived bounty. Fortunately, everything he needed was clearly labeled and conveniently located in one place inside the “bunker.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to attach a line or something?” asked Kate.

“Are you coming in after me if something goes wrong?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then I’m definitely not attaching a line. One of us has to survive this,” he replied.

“I think I’m capable of swimming twenty feet and dragging your ass out of there. I’m a better swimmer than you,” she pointed out.

“Then maybe you should be the one making the dive,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m not familiar enough with your system down there.”

“Having a line attached is just one more thing I have to worry about. I’ll be fine. If I’m having trouble, I’ll come right up. Promise.”

“All right, but I wish we had a way to communicate,” said Kate.

“I’ll check the first few joists for an air pocket. If I don’t find air, you’re going to see me back here every thirty seconds or so. If I find air, I’ll try to use the snorkel to clear the whole path in one trip. You can sit in the water with your goggles and watch my light. The water’s pretty warm,” he said.

“You always say that,” she said, taking a transparent pair of goggles off the kitchen island.

“It’s at least ten degrees warmer than the beach water. Probably heated up over land,” said Alex.

He heard a knock from the mudroom, followed by Charlie’s voice. “You guys here?”

“Come on in, Charlie,” Alex called. “I’m about to take a swim.”

Charlie walked into the kitchen with his AR suspended at chest level by a one-point tactical sling. Alex noticed that he had completely rearranged the attachments on his rifle since he’d last seen him. Instead of a long-range scope, the rifle now featured an EOTech holographic sight with flip-up magnifier, a laser/flashlight combination and a bipod. Alex’s rifle lay on the recently cleaned granite island, along with the rest of his tactical gear. Charlie’s eyes immediately diverted to the rifle.

“You sprang for an ACOG? Dammit. Now I feel like I cheaped out on this,” he said grumpily.

“I think that EOTech combo costs the same. I almost went with that,” said Alex.

“But you didn’t,” said Charlie, still staring at Alex’s rifle.

He finally broke the attachment-envy-induced trance and joined them at the basement doorway.

“Christ, it’s dark down there,” Charlie remarked. “Did you open the bulkhead door?”

Alex looked up at Kate and shook his head. “We’re fucking idiots.”

“I’m not saying another word,” said Charlie, winking at Kate.

Five minutes later, the underwater world below looked vastly different. With mostly clear skies and fierce sunlight penetrating the southeast corner of the basement, he could see the outlines of the bottom stairs and a few of the shelves along the submerged facing wall. He felt better about the situation, though it did nothing to alleviate the oxygen situation.

“You think I should be able to find some air?” said Alex.

“Definitely. I’ve been marking the water progress on the wall next to my stairs,” said Charlie. “It’s dropped at least six inches in the last three hours. Before that it didn’t move. There has to be a pocket of air. You could always wait until later.”

“We don’t have another three hours. I need to know if the gear is part of our plan or not. It’s almost three. We’ll get everyone together when I’m done with this.”

“You could always use one of the garden hoses to breathe. I assume it’s still connected to the house,” said Charlie.

“I’ll take my chances holding my breath. That hose has been there for fifteen years.”

“How about I stick around while you go swimming—just in case?”

Alex nodded and activated the LED light attached to his mask. He’d used over a dozen rubber bands to tightly affix the waterproof flashlight. He had the option of using several head-mounted lamps scattered throughout their rucksacks, but couldn’t convince himself that they would continue to work submerged. He knew for a fact that this light would work, and in the environment below, he needed one-hundred-percent reliability. The light from the bulkhead opening would illuminate his path to the bunker door, but the area inside the bunker would be pitch black. He wasn’t taking any chances. He fitted the mask and adjusted the light to face directly forward.

“I always wanted to go cave diving,” he said and slid into the water after a deep breath.

The first thing he noticed was the cut on his forehead, which burned like someone held a match against it. A dozen other cuts and scrapes sounded off for a moment, but nothing could compete with the exhilaration of swimming through salt water in his basement. The cuts were a distant memory by the time his feet touched the concrete flooring.

He propelled himself forward, glancing around for a moment. He was surprised by the clarity of the water, which allowed his LED flashlight almost unlimited range in the basement. It made sense. The basement had more or less been a closed, undisturbed system for the past eight hours, giving most of the sediment time to settle. Alex propelled himself upward, just under the lip of the ceiling, and searched the area between the first two joists. He pressed the mask lens as high as possible, finding a three-inch pocket of air. Craning his neck backward, Alex grabbed the joists and attempted to bring his mouth above the waterline, but found the position to be too unstable. His lips barely breached the surface, which wasn’t enough.

He put the self-clearing snorkel in his mouth and used his hands to align the top of the snorkel with the floorboard between the joists. Once nearly flush with the ceiling, he expelled the air in his lungs, purging the snorkel through the valve below the mouthpiece. He tentatively sucked air back into the snorkel, encountering little resistance. Alex breathed deeper, bringing nothing but air into his lungs. He took several breaths, alternating the position of his head and snorkel, until he was comfortable using both hands to steady himself on the joists.

Nothing to it.

He popped up in the stairwell and gave his audience a thumbs-up. “I found air. Three inches at least. No problem. I’ll be done with this in ten minutes. Why don’t you start gathering the troops, Charlie. Is Ed’s house any cleaner than ours?”

“His and mine. We’ve been moving slop for hours,” said Charlie.

“Let’s go with Ed’s. That way Kate and I can sneak around back so it doesn’t look like we’re having a big meeting. You’ve been going back and forth all day. Linda needs to be there. Can you leave the girls behind?”

“I sure as shit have no intention of leaving my house unguarded. They can hold their own.”

“Good. I’ll haul some extra ammunition and magazines up for everyone,” said Alex. “If we have time later, I’ll fetch your thermal scope.”

“You won’t be disappointed with that thing. It’s unbelievable. Can’t see through walls, but it can pick up heat signatures inside windows, which more or less accomplishes the same thing,” said Charlie.

“Infrared reflections or ambient shadowing,” Alex corrected. “Unless the windows are closed. IR signatures can’t transmit through glass.”

“Snipers don’t typically fire through closed windows,” countered Charlie.

“You guys are out of your minds. Can we get on with this?” Kate snapped, descending the stairs into the water. “Warm water, my ass,” she added.

“What a lovely couple. We’ll start making our way over to Ed’s in about thirty minutes,” Charlie said and disappeared.

“Ready?” Alex asked.

“Play it smart. I won’t be able to see you very well in the bunker,” she said, illuminating her own waterproof flashlight.

Alex sank into the water and swam toward the bunker door. He arrived several seconds later and questioned why he had been so worried. He had two locks to open, which shouldn’t take much time. He considered trying to open the door before his next oxygen break, but decided against it. Before committing to any kind of task, he needed to verify that another pocket of air existed above him. He’d do the same when he reached the gun safe.

Repeating the process used near the stairs, he relaxed and breathed through the snorkel, flooding his system with oxygen. Kate floated lazily underwater near the bottom of the staircase, pointing her flashlight in his direction. He smiled with the snorkel in his mouth and gave her another thumbs-up sign. She broke for the surface and returned several seconds later. When she returned, Alex used one hand to retrieve the keys from the zippered pocket on his right thigh. He had removed the keys from his larger key chain and put them on a separate ring, wrapping duct tape around the base of the deadbolt key for quick identification. The third key on the ring was the circular gun safe key, which was easily distinguished from the traditional flat keys used to lock the bunker door. With the duct-taped key in hand, he descended a few feet and unlocked the deadbolt. A few seconds later, he had opened the doorknob lock and gained entry to the bunker, which was pitch black as expected.

The sole window to the backyard was blocked by mud, and the light from the bulkhead door barely penetrated more than a foot or two into the abyss. His flashlight cast a bluish-gray beam across the room, spotlighting the oil tanks, which he suddenly suspected were leaking. Another thing he hadn’t anticipated. He swept the beam over the room, taking in the eerily monochromatic scene. Unlike the first floor, the water must have filled the basement slowly through the single one-foot-tall by two-feet-wide window in front of him. Aside from the packages of dehydrated food, MREs, and medical supplies bobbing between the joists in the far northwest corner of the bunker, very little had been disturbed by the tsunami.

He turned to his right to face the gun safe and nearly bit his tongue. All of his air vacated in an attempt to scream, and he bolted out of the dark chamber, swimming as fast as possible toward Kate. He scrambled past her and surfaced, grabbing hold of the handrail and ripping the mask off. He coughed violently as the mask drifted away toward the bottom of the stairs. Kate enveloped him, turning his face toward her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked urgently.

He coughed a few more times to clear his airway. “There’s a body down there. I wasn’t expecting it, and I panicked. It was a little girl, or boy—I couldn’t tell. Ripped apart pretty bad—fuck.” He exhaled.

“You don’t have to go back down there.”

“I’m going back down. That won’t be the last body any of us sees close up. It was just bad timing. Like a horror movie. One second I was surveying the room, the next I’m staring into a dead child’s eyes. It’s all good. At least I didn’t drop the keys,” he said, showing them to her. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m good. Seriously. Seeing that body gives me all the more reason to get the shit I need out of there. Ryan needs me to have every advantage possible entering Boston. That’s what I’m doing down there,” he said, glad that the salt water gave him an excuse to continuously wipe his eyes.

“All right. I think you should move the body to the bulkhead. Get it out of your way and up so the authorities can find it. Someone will be looking for that kid,” said Kate.

He didn’t want to break the bad news that nobody would be looking for the kid floating around in their basement. At least nobody in her immediate family.

“Back down. You don’t have to keep an eye on me. I think I’ve got the technique mastered at this point,” Alex said.

“I can handle seeing a dead body,” Kate said, “and you missed hitting your head on the doorframe by about a centimeter. I can’t rescue Ryan, Alex. You’re the only option we have.”

He kissed her forehead and dove into the water to retrieve the mask. Ten minutes later, he had returned with four sealed ammunition cans, an M4 carbine and a 9mm HK USP pistol. One of the cans contained a pair of generation two, head-mountable dual night vision goggles, a small, rifle-mountable generation two, night vision monocular, and a dual-beam IR aiming laser. The other cans contained ammunition and magazines compatible with his rifle and pistols.

He was surprisingly tired from the brief underwater foray. “This should do it.”

“I’ll start hauling this stuff up,” Kate said.

“I’ll get the body out of there. I think it might be better to leave it inside the bulkhead doors. Tie it to the stairs or something. I don’t like the idea of it sitting in the sun where the animals can get to it.”

“I’m not sleeping in a house with a dead body in it. I’ll help you drag it to wherever they’re putting the rest of the bodies.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get it out of the house and have Charlie help me move it. You don’t want to see this one, Kate. It’s someone’s baby.”

Kate’s face softened, and she held him for a minute. “They’re all someone’s baby,” she whispered.

Chapter 18

EVENT +10:47 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex sat in the empty seat left for him at the head of the kitchen table. Ed sat directly across from him, in front of the missing slider door. He was slightly concerned with privacy, since all of the windows had been blown out, but none of their options were optimal. He needed a table to lay out a few maps, which limited them to the dining room or kitchen. The dining room faced the street, exposing their conversation to anyone passing in front of the house.

He took a sip of ice-cold beer and observed his team. This wasn’t going to be an easy journey. They were probably thinking the same thing about him. He knew he looked worse than all of them combined. The slash across his forehead was held together by a butterfly bandage and slathered with antibiotic ointment. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was surrounded by a mean-looking bruise and could easily become infected if ignored. Several smaller, less urgent looking bruises had developed on his arms, face and neck, giving the impression that he had been worked over by a bar mob.

The bruise on his right tricep muscle was by far the worst. Partially hidden by his gray T-shirt, the deep purplish-red contusion drew stares from everyone. His arm had felt markedly better since taking ibuprofen and applying ice, but he strongly suspected that tomorrow would be a rough day. He could shoot right handed or left handed, but there was no comparison between what he could do with the right versus the left. He’d have to deal with it the best he could. That’s all he could ask of himself and the ragtag group sitting around Ed’s kitchen table.

He glanced at Kate and winked. Her normally lustrous black hair, now matted and dull, was hidden under a light blue ball cap. Despite the added trials of the Fletchers’ day, she exuded a confidence that he didn’t see in Linda or Samantha. She’d changed since the pandemic. The Sig Sauer P228 seated in the drop holster on her right thigh was one of many testaments to her sharply honed commitment to the Fletcher way of life. She would lead the women and children to his parents’ farm. God help anything that got in their way.

The Thorntons and Walkers had readily accepted his offer to weather the storm in Limerick. Charlie and Linda owned a fully stocked camp on the Great Pond near Belgrade, Maine, but didn’t have any way to get there. With Charlie accompanying Alex and Ed to Boston, it made sense for Linda and their twin seventeen-year-old daughters to travel with Kate. Running water would fail shortly, and electrical power wouldn’t be restored for months, turning their homes into little more than three-thousand-square-foot tents.

Once power returned, a multitude of complicated challenges would surface. They would have to replace all of the electrical components in their furnace, if the furnace was even salvageable after sitting in salt water for several days. Not to mention the fact that they would be competing for parts and service with millions of other households. They all had wood-burning stoves, which could carry them through the winter if they could scrounge enough wood. Most of Alex’s wood stack had been washed away by the tsunami. The cord he kept in the garage wouldn’t last him through December.

Windows were another issue. How long would it take for them to get replacement windows? Two years ago, Alex had accidentally cracked one of their family room windows with the back of a shovel while digging in a flowerbed. The replacement window arrived two weeks later. With several million windows shattered in New England alone, it could take over a year. Most people would be forced to contend with plywood, plastic sheeting and duct tape, which would be no match for a Maine winter.

Households would compress their lives into one or two rooms and cannibalize unbroken windows from unused spaces. Depending upon the orientation of the house, this could work. For the three families gathered here, it would be a less than optimal experience. They all lost large sliding glass doors, which opened directly into large, combined kitchen and family areas. No amount of makeshift shuttering could keep the cold out, even with a wood-burning stove blazing at full strength.

Mold was another issue, but now he was just pig-piling the list of reasons why their friends should join them at the farm. Especially since everyone agreed with Alex’s assessment that the situation on the “outside” would explode within the next seventy-two hours, once again sending the hordes north from Connecticut and Massachusetts to pillage the less populated, resource-rich suburbs.

By the time Boston reached critical mass, they would be securely hidden on a picturesque farm, with most of the comforts and amenities of modern life to which they had grown accustomed. Most importantly, they would be together with their families. Space might become an issue, but they’d make it work for as long as anyone cared to stay, even if that meant permanently.

“First, we’ve all made it this far—and we’re going to make it the rest of the way. We’ve come together before to save each other’s asses. Here we are again,” he said, raising his beer.

They all clinked bottles and glasses.

“Second, this isn’t my operation. It may be my suggested plan, but we all have just as much at stake here, so the plan is open to input,” Alex continued. “Lastly, you’re all welcome to stay out at the farm indefinitely. That’s an unconditional offer, and I don’t expect anyone to ever feel like they owe us anything—now or down the line.”

“We appreciate that, Alex, Kate,” said Samantha. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“Exactly. This is incredible. Thank you,” said Charlie, followed by Linda.

“And thank you for letting us use the Jeep,” Kate said to Ed and Samantha.

“And to Linda for allowing Charlie to join Ed and I in Boston, although I’d really feel better if he was escorting the group to Limerick,” said Alex.

“I ain’t going on a bike ride with the women,” said Charlie. “I’m more use on the high-speed team.”

“He’s going to get himself killed,” said Linda.

Ed snorted. “If Kate doesn’t kill him first.”

“Hey, hey. I didn’t mean any offense to the women. I just. I just—”

“You should quit while you’re ahead, Charlie,” said Alex.

Charlie nodded. “Good idea.”

“All right. That does it for the thank yous,” said Alex. “Now we get down to business.”

Alex took several sheets of paper and three maps from a small green backpack he’d carried into the house. “I have a few checklists that each family will need to follow,” he said. He handed a sheet of paper to each family, giving theirs to Kate. “The first sheet is for the bicycle group. This is a watered-down bug-out or BOLT kit. The focus is on mobility and balance while riding, so anything not directly related to hydration, nutrition, and short-term survival has been scratched from the list. Under ideal, casual cycling conditions, the trip should take no more than four to five hours. You’re looking at thirty-five miles taking the shortest route. Given the circumstances, I think you should plan for the possibility of an overnight. Thirty-six hours at the outside, accounting for detours, roadblocks, hiding out—whatever. I can’t imagine any scenario other than capture that would keep you from reaching your destination within that timeframe, and I highly doubt anyone will get close enough to you to do that. Everything on this list will fit into a medium-sized rucksack with room to spare.”

“No sleeping bags?” said Samantha. “We don’t have Gore-Tex shells.”

“If you have some highly compressible bags, that should be fine. I was just trying to keep the weight to a minimum. Water, MREs, first aid and tents are the highest priority,” said Alex.

“And weapons,” added Kate.

“Recommended weapons and ammunition are listed at the bottom. I’d arm the kids if practical,” said Alex.

“What about the Homeland Security mandate?” Linda asked. “I can’t exactly conceal an AR-15.”

“I think you and Kate should plan to break down the rifles and stash them in your packs until you’ve cleared Scarborough. Shouldn’t take more than ten seconds to put one of the ARs into action from the pack if required. Once you hit the back roads near Gorham, you can reassemble and sling them. Everyone should stash their pistols in one of the easy-to-access pouches on your pack, just in case you run into any immediate trouble before clearing town. Holsters too. No reason to give them an excuse to search you. Make sure you wear long pants with cargo pockets for the spare mags,” said Alex.

Kate asked, “What if we’re stopped and searched in Scarborough?”

“The police will have too much on their plate to bother with that. As long as the weapons aren’t obvious, I can’t imagine they’ll bother,” said Alex.

“What if they do?”

“Then you turn over your weapons without incident. Not much you can do in that situation. The last thing we want is trouble with the police. That doesn’t go away,” said Alex, and Kate nodded agreement.

Alex flattened one of the maps. “I’ve highlighted what I think is the best route out of town, with a few alternatives. For security reasons, I haven’t highlighted the entire route. This gets you to Route 5, in East Waterboro. From there it’s pretty much a straight shot to Limerick. Kate knows where to go from there.”

Charlie examined the map and shook his head. “I don’t know if this route will be passable.”

“The mud is going to be rough getting out of here,” Alex told him, “but here’s what I figured we’d do to make it easier for them, without making multiple trips back into the neighborhood.”

“Not here. I mean along Route 1. The Nonesuch River crosses Route 1 just south of where Harrison Road intersects—”

“It’s more of a creek,” interrupted Alex.

“True, but water follows the path of least resistance, and the creek lies lower than the rest of the land. I guarantee the tsunami channeled up through the creek and over Route 1, dumping a ton of mud along the way. Hell, the marsh extending past Pine Point Beach extends into half of southern Scarborough—all less than a mile from Route 1. The whole marsh is at sea level. I wouldn’t count on them passing through much of downtown Scarborough.”

“I think he’s right, Alex,” said Ed.

“That would be a first,” added Linda Thornton, winking at her husband.

“Always busting my chops,” said Charlie.

“Good call, Charlie,” Alex admitted. “I wanted to avoid routing them toward the Maine Mall, but we might not have a choice. At least the roads should be clear of mud and debris north of the Harrison intersection. Let’s rework the route while we’re here.”

Samantha turned to Alex. “I want to hear more about your plan to get us past this mud.”

“Here’s what I was thinking… we can’t make multiple trips back to the neighborhood with Ed’s Jeep. Once that engine roars to life, everyone in the neighborhood will be watching. If it returns multiple times, we’re going to have a crisis on our hands. It’ll be like the last helicopter out of Saigon.”

Charlie chuckled. “That’s a great image, Alex.”

“Which I don’t want to repeat here,” Alex went on. “So, the bicycle group will leave first and walk their bicycles to the fire station. Mountain bikes or hybrids only for this trip. Will that be a problem for any family? I have an extra mountain bike in my basement.”

Everyone indicated that they could provide enough bikes.

“We’ll have to inspect and lubricate each bike. I’ll leave it to the bike group to put together a repair kit,” said Alex.

Kate nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Once you’ve all arrived at the station,” he said, nodding to Kate, “call us via handheld radio or satphone. We’ll start the Jeep and meet you there to transport the bikes and riders to a dry point along Route 1. You’ll have to deal with this nasty shit for about a quarter of a mile, but that’s it.”

“I can live with that,” said Samantha.

“We should all wear throwaway shoes and socks for this part,” Linda chimed in. “Have your real boots or whatever stuffed away in the backpacks.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Alex. “We’ll bring a few towels in the Jeep so everyone can wipe off their feet before the trip. You don’t want to start out with wet feet. Once we get everyone in place along Route 1, we’ll split up and stay in touch. I think we should check in via satphone every two hours.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Do your parents have a satphone, Alex? Can we call them along the way?” asked Samantha.

“They do, but I haven’t been able to contact them with mine. They might not even realize there’s a problem yet. The farm is at least another thirty miles inland.”

“Yeah, but they’ll notice that the power is out and the cars aren’t working. They’ll turn the phone on at some point,” said Charlie.

“I don’t know. The farm is isolated enough to keep neighbors from walking over to say hi. Nearest house is at least a half mile down the road. They’re in their early seventies and don’t typically go anywhere during the week. They might not discover their car problem until they decide to grab lunch or dinner in Limerick.”

“But the power’s out. If they have solar, that should raise some questions,” said Charlie.

“They call me with all of those questions, and not by satphone. I guarantee they won’t figure out it was an EMP until they try to start the cars. Even then they might think the batteries died or something. Don’t be surprised if you deliver the bad news about the EMP when you arrive,” Alex said.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Linda asked.

“I think we’ll try to use the turnpike to reach Kittery, then maybe cross the bridge if it’s serviceable. If not, we’ll head west along the New Hampshire border and cross at the least crowded point. My goal is to reach 125 and take that until Kingston; then we’ll do a combination of 107 and 108 to Haverhill—”

“Haverhill? That’s a lot of people in one place,” Charlie remarked.

“I don’t think we can avoid Haverhill. We need to get over the Merrimack, and I’m not sure about crossing options east of Haverhill. This point,” he said, landing a pencil on Haverhill, “is about ten miles from the coast. Up here that wouldn’t be a problem, but based on the direction of the wave, wind and flash that I saw this morning the asteroid—if it was an asteroid—hit closer to the beach down here.”

“Going west would be way worse in terms of population,” muttered Ed. “You’ve got Lawrence and Lowell here.”

“What about trying to cross at West Newbury?” Kate suggested. “There has to be a way to get there without going through Haverhill. If the bridge is down, you can drive back to Haverhill.”

“Let me check on that,” Alex said.

He pulled a softbound map book of New England from his backpack and feverishly searched for the page with a detailed street map corresponding to the area Kate had pointed out on the larger map. He found the map and confirmed the validity of her idea.

“We have a couple of options to reach West Newbury from 108. If the bridge there is down, we could use East Broadway here,” he said, pointing to a road along the river, “to approach the Bates Bridge on the outskirts of Haverhill. Assuming the road isn’t washed out.”

“You’re welcome,” said Kate, smugly.

“You’re thanked,” replied Alex. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, Charlie, but I think we can work our way from Groveland to Reading without using Route 28.”

“Definitely, but once we hit Reading, we might as well take the 28. It won’t matter what road you’re on at that point. It starts to get crowded.”

“Should we ditch the car before Reading?” asked Alex.

“Ditch the car?” said nearly everyone at the same time.

“What? We can’t drive Ed’s Jeep into Boston. We wouldn’t last fifteen minutes,” said Alex.

Ed asked him, “How far are we going to walk?”

“I guess it depends on where we stash the car. I was hoping for something between five and eight miles.”

“Reading’s a lot further than that. We’d be useless by the time we reached the Charles,” said Ed.

“We can’t risk taking your jeep into a high-density population area. Too many variables we can’t control without seriously heating up these barrels,” he said, reaching over to his rifle set against the wall, “which would make the situation worse.”

“How can it get worse?” Ed asked.

“Shooting solves your most immediate problem, but the problem usually comes back really quickly. We’ll be slower on foot, but we won’t have a giant bull’s-eye painted on us. More people probably live in Medford and Cambridge combined than the entire greater Portland area—and they all want out of the city. Ed’s Jeep will quickly become the talk of the town, which is likely to put us in an untenable situation.”

“Fuck it. I’m in,” Charlie announced, rising over the table to examine the map. “No need to stop before Reading. We’re talking mostly suburbs. Stoneham’s a little more packed, but it doesn’t get really busy until Medford. See this right here?” Everyone stood up and leaned over the table to see where Charlie was pointing. “Middlesex Fells Reservation. We could easily stash the Jeep somewhere in the forest about a quarter of a mile from the northern edge of Medford. If the trees are still standing.”

“True,” Alex agreed. “We really have no idea how bad it is down there. We’ll bring the Jeep to the edge of Medford and figure out how to hide it. If the forest is a no-go, we might have to sit back and wait until dark to hide the Jeep near the city.”

“Tomorrow night? Now we’re talking about tomorrow night?” Samantha said nervously. “That’s more than twenty-four hours. I think you guys should leave tonight. Take the Jeep straight through to the kids. You’ll be back by tomorrow morning at the latest. I’m worried that you’re overthinking this, Alex. Our kids are waiting. They’re probably wondering why we haven’t shown up yet. The longer we delay this, the worse it’ll get out there.”

“We can’t leave tonight. If the police confiscate our vehicle, we’re screwed. Not to mention all the other gear they’re not likely to let us keep,” said Alex.

“What if they’re still confiscating vehicles tomorrow—and the next day? How long are we going to wait?”

“If they’re simply replacing the disabled vehicles in their fleet, we should be safe by tomorrow. If they’re still yanking cars off the street tomorrow, then we’re dealing with something else.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Regardless of their reason, what’s your plan if they’re not done taking vehicles tomorrow morning?” she demanded.

“I’m headed to Boston tomorrow to get our children. Nothing is going to get in the way of that. Are we all good with that?” said Alex, shifting his stare between Charlie and Ed.

“I’m good,” said Charlie.

“Me too. God help us,” said Ed.

“We’ll get the kids back, Samantha. No matter what it takes. We just can’t leave tonight. I need time with your husband and Charlie to work out the details, rig the gear, game plan all of the scenarios. If we were having this conversation at ten in the morning, I’d consider giving it a try.”

“Sorry to jump on you like that, Alex. I’m just worried about the kids.”

“I’m right there with you, Sam,” said Kate. “No need to apologize.”

“Samantha, you should have heard Kate on the walk back from the yacht club,” said Alex, trying to break the tension. “She wanted me to take a right on Harrison Road and continue walking to Boston. I managed to find a few flaws in that plan.”

“You looked like you needed a break, so I relented,” Kate said, winking.

Everyone laughed at Kate’s comment, including Alex.

“We have a lot of prep work to do. Bicycles, backpacks, and weapons are first priority. The rescue group needs two packs. One BOLT bag and a smaller assault kit—”

“What’s an assault kit?” asked Ed. “I don’t have stuff like that.”

“It’s just a smaller backpack, like this,” said Alex, lifting up the dark green, nylon backpack from the side of his chair.

“We’ll use these when we leave the car to get the kids. Nothing but the basics. Ammo, water, limited food, first aid kit… it’s all here on the sheets.”

“Why pack two bags?” asked Linda.

“The BOLT bags are for situations requiring us to permanently abandon the Jeep. We’ll be able to continue on foot with enough supplies to get us to our destination,” Alex explained.

“What if that happens before you reach Boston?”

“The mission remains the same. Get the kids and get back to Limerick. The only parameter that changes is the length of time it takes to accomplish the mission. Could be twelve hours, could be twelve days.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Charlie?” Linda asked her husband.

“Of course I’m up for this! What the hell are you talking about?”

“If the car dies in Sanford, Maine, you’re looking at what,” she made a quick calculation using the map, “a hundred and fifty mile round trip on foot?”

“Then I’ll finally lose that last ten pounds!”

“What about your knee—and your back?”

“I’ll bring my knee wrap and back brace, along with plenty of pain meds. I hike through the woods for days on end up in the county looking for deer. I’ll be fine. It’s these two beach strollers I’m worried about—gotcha there, guys,” said Charlie.

“We’ll take good care of your husband, Linda,” said Ed.

“You better. It’s not like I can easily replace him at this point, especially with the Internet down,” she said, causing another round of laughter.

Alex took a long swig of beer and gently set the empty bottle on the table.

“One last thing. Actually two last things. First, the backpack list doesn’t leave a lot of room for personal items. My daughter has already started to collect stuff to bring along, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most of it wasn’t coming. We’re all in the same boat with kids—and ourselves. If things start to normalize, we can always come back for stuff—”

“If the houses haven’t been ransacked,” said Kate.

“Right. Each family should put together a duffel bag with stuff they want to bring to the farm, beyond the few items you can fit in your packs. We can stuff those bags in the Jeep. Nothing huge. Gym bag or backpack sized,” he said, and everyone nodded. “The last thing is the most important. I noticed people outside, and it sounds like Charlie has been helping other neighbors to move bodies. We need to minimize contact with the neighbors, and keep our packing efforts a secret. We’ll have to move all the gear over to Ed’s at night. Our departure tomorrow needs to remain a secret. I can’t stress that enough. It sounds cold, but it’s our reality. We all have friends in the neighborhood, and for the most part, they should be fine once the basements drain. We did our part after the pandemic. Most of the neighbors have stockpiled food and supplies. I can’t run a neighborhood refugee camp out at my parents’ farm. It’s as simple as that.”

Alex didn’t sense any problem with his last statement. They all understood the gravity and reality of the situation. Even with a sizable food stockpile and the ability to filter water, life would be extremely difficult in the neighborhood. Most home foundations were more than likely cracked. Some would collapse. The epic scale of this disaster guaranteed that nothing would be restored or repaired for several months, eventually forcing most people to migrate or face a brutal winter with meager supplies and limited essential services. He could envision massive FEMA camps established to handle the overflow of humanity fleeing New England, followed by disease, starvation and depravity. Nobody at the Walkers’ kitchen table wanted to stick around for that end game.

“Then it’s a done deal,” said Ed decisively. “We pack up and wait for dark to bring it over.”

“We’ll throw dinner together once everyone arrives. Try to use up whatever’s left in the refrigerators and pantries,” said Samantha.

“Perfect. We should spend some time talking about Boston before heading back right now,” Alex said to Ed and Charlie.

“The other group needs to do the same, but it’ll have to wait until tonight. Too many people to gather in one place at one time without arousing suspicion. Durham Road may look quiet, but I guarantee people are watching every square inch of the neighborhood. We should also plan to use the upstairs. I wouldn’t feel secure gathering the family at night,” said Alex.

He distinctly remembered the fear he had developed of roaming the ground floor of his house six years ago, with murderous psychopaths prowling the neighborhood. The obvious presence of a large gathering might attract attention tonight, as households recuperated from the initial shock of having their normal lives ripped out from under them. From what he could tell so far, the neighbors had kept to themselves, nobody quite certain what to think or do under the circumstances beyond clean out their house and take stock of the situation. Some of them had banded together to remove the bodies deposited on the street by the tsunami, but that appeared to be the limit of cooperation to this point. Tomorrow would be very different, especially after the harsh reality of the EMP’s long-term impact had time to sink in.

Chapter 19

EVENT +15:47 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex lifted Kate’s mountain bike up by the center crossbar and tucked his left elbow tightly against his side, balancing the aluminum monster in his left hand. He’d already ferried Emily’s bike across the thickening, bug-infested field of muck separating the two houses. The Thorntons had arrived at the back of their house just as he returned from the first trip twenty minutes later.

“Everyone set?” he asked, glancing at the shadows in front of the closed bulkhead door.

“Lead the way, sir,” said Charlie.

Alex stepped out of the garage and into the deeper mud behind his house. “Let’s go.”

The steps were slow, each threatening to suck the shoes off his feet. He’d stuffed his only pair of hiking boots in his backpack, opting for the running shoes he kept in the mudroom closet. The rest of the family’s boots were underwater in a fifty-gallon storage bin somewhere in the basement. The added weight of his assault pack buried his shoes deeper, causing him to cautiously lift his feet out of the greedy muck.

Halfway across the yard, he saw the slow progress and had second thoughts about their plan to have Kate’s group haul the bicycles to the fire station. Everyone had given up trying to keep the bikes out of the mud. They would have to rethink this part of the plan.

Ed’s hitch-mounted bike rack could take four bicycles. They could throw two on top and try to carry the other three with their arms outside of the windows. It would be a complete clusterfuck, but they only needed to drive two minutes with all of the bicycles. The Jeep had an automatic transmission, so Ed could theoretically hold one of the bikes with his left arm. Alex knew that wasn’t going to work.

They’d have to make two trips, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid, but he didn’t see any way around it. There was no way this group would make it to the fire station pushing bicycles through the muck without thoroughly exhausting themselves in advance of a thirty-five-mile bike ride.

Kate’s group would hike to the fire station with their packs and wait for Ed to deliver the first load of bicycles. Alex and Charlie would guard the rest of the bikes and gear until Ed returned for the final load. Once everything was in place at the station, they could resume the original plan. He’d suggest that Kate’s group set out for the station before sunrise, with the hopes of keeping onlookers to a bare minimum. He stopped to let Charlie catch up.

“I think we’ll have to drive the bikes over to the station,” said Alex.

“That’ll mean two trips,” said Charlie, straining to talk.

“I’m pretty sure my marriage won’t last halfway to the fire station,” said Alex.

“Halfway?” Linda jeered. “I’ll file for divorce right now if this idiot doesn’t start agreeing with you.”

“Let’s go with two trips, my friend,” said Charlie.

“Better,” Linda said. “Now if you can convince him to drive everyone to the station, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Tonight?” asked Charlie.

“Not tonight.”

“I’ve heard that before. I only take payment in advance these days,” said Charlie, laughing at his own joke.

“Mom? Dad?” said one of Charlie and Linda’s daughters from the darkness. “We’re, like, right here, in case you were wondering.”

“Your mom started it.”

“We might be able to move everyone in two trips,” said Alex. “Does Ed’s Jeep have running boards?”

“If it doesn’t, he’s a cheap bastard,” Charlie decided. “Why would you buy the four-door Jeep and not have running boards?”

“If he has running boards, we might be able to get six people out on each run. That would do it,” said Alex.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. The only problem would be jamming all of the packs and weapons into the Jeep’s tight interior space. They’d make it work, even if they had to tie stuff down on the hood.

Ten minutes later, Alex returned to the house to retrieve his own gear. He’d stashed his BOLT pack, tactical chest rig, and rifle in the garage. Unlike the watered-down version carried by Kate’s group, his BOLT pack contained most of the items on the original checklist, which translated into twice the weight. His final trip across the mud would be interesting. He stepped out of the garage and collided with someone. He cleared his pistol from the holster, stepping backward simultaneously.

“It’s me, Jamie. Christ, will you put that away?” she hissed.

Alex lowered the weapon, but didn’t holster it. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Is it that bad out there? You don’t trust me enough to put away your gun, Alex?”

“I don’t trust anyone right now,” he said, glancing at the corner of the garage.

“Looks like you trust Ed and Charlie,” she remarked. “When are you heading out?”

Alex didn’t reply at first. He had really been hoping to slide out of the neighborhood without having to deal with this.

“We’re taking Ed’s Jeep down to Boston to get the kids. The rest of them are headed out on bicycles to my parents’ place. I don’t know what everyone will do after that. Hopefully this will all be resolved in a few weeks.”

“This won’t get better. We’re heading out tomorrow for Jeff’s family camp near Bridgton.”

Alex remained silent.

“I’m not asking for a ride. The minivan started. I just need to know when you’re heading out, so we can leave at the same time. We don’t want to drive out of here with the entire neighborhood on our heels,” she said.

“We were hoping to avoid the same thing. We’ll leave at first light,” said Alex.

“That’s what we were thinking,” said Jamie.

Something was off with this conversation. He couldn’t see more than the outline of her body against the side of the garage. He knew for a fact that she owned a compact 9mm Glock. He’d recommended the pistol to her when she’d come to him for self-defense advice after the pandemic. He closed the back door to the garage and walked slowly through the mud toward the Walkers’ house. Was he already this paranoid?

“Stay safe on the road, Jamie,” he advised. “Don’t stop for anything or anyone. Route 26 goes through some crowded areas.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Jamie.

Route 26 didn’t go anywhere near Bridgton. Jamie had either completely missed what he had said, or she was lying about the camp. He had to assume the latter and plan for the worst-case scenario. So much for a full night’s sleep.

Charlie immediately met him at the back door of the Walkers’ garage.

“Was that Jamie?”

“Yeah,” grumbled Alex.

“She’s out of her skull creeping around at night. What did she want?”

“Intel,” stated Alex.

Charlie looked at him pointedly. “Do we have a problem?”

“A big one. We all need to talk,” he said, stepping through the doorway.

Alex met Kate and Linda in the mudroom. They had just finished stacking the two families’ BOLT bags along one of the walls.

“Where are all of the kids?” asked Alex.

“We sent them upstairs,” Linda replied.

He dropped his own pack on the tile floor. “Let’s keep them up there.”

“We’ve got a place for the rifles in the family room,” said Linda.

“I think I’ll hold onto mine for now.”

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

Alex glanced at Linda. “Can you grab Ed and Samantha really quick?”

She stepped out and returned moments later with Ed and Samantha in the kitchen doorway.

“What’s up?” asked Ed.

“I just ran into Jamie,” said Alex.

“Great. Please tell me you didn’t invite them to your parents’ place,” Kate said snidely. “Her new husband is a little off.”

“You thought I was a little off before you got to know me,” said Charlie.

Linda didn’t hesitate. “I’ve known you for twenty-four years, and I think you’re way off.”

“She said something that didn’t make sense,” Alex said, trying to keep them focused. “Claims that their minivan started and that they’re headed out to Jeff’s family camp in Bridgton.”

“Why would they wait this long?” asked Linda.

“Maybe for the same reason as us,” said Samantha.

“They don’t know that the police are grabbing cars,” Ed said. “They haven’t left the neighborhood, and I think we would have heard them start the car. Charlie heard mine from down the street.”

“What if their garage doors were closed?” asked Samantha.

“Here’s the other thing,” Alex said. “I told her to be careful on Route 26. She said they will. Route 26 doesn’t go anywhere near Bridgton. I think she was fishing for information.”

“Maybe she was nervous?” Samantha suggested. “You look like some kind of mercenary. I’m nervous right now looking at those guns.”

“I know the two of you used to be close…” began Alex.

“She’s been through a lot, Alex,” Samantha interrupted. “Now that asshole husband’s knocking her around.”

Linda grimaced. “When did that start?”

“Apparently all along,” said Samantha. “He’s a piece of sh—crap.”

“Maybe he put her up to it,” said Alex.

“Up to what?” Samantha asked.

“Trying to find out our plan to get out of here. Why else would she ask when we were leaving?”

“What did you tell her?” asked Ed.

“Sunrise.”

“We’ll be long gone by then.”

“They’ll make a move on the Jeep long before that,” said Kate knowingly.

Samantha blanched. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“The Michaud family camp in Bridgton was sold at auction in 2016. The Michaud’s were clients of my firm for decades. Jeff pissed away all of the money after his parents died in the pandemic. Apparently, a latent gambling gene surfaced,” said Kate.

“Followed by a wife-beating gene,” said Samantha.

Kate shook her head. “I’m sure that one has been around forever. How bad is the abuse?”

“I don’t know,” Samantha answered. “He’s got her under tight control.” She turned to Alex. “I know Jamie. She wouldn’t do this if she had a choice. She hasn’t forgotten what we did for her girls.”

“We still have to plan for the worst. I can set up outside and watch the back of the house. He’ll probably try to break in and steal the Jeep. That’s what I’d do.”

“Then what?” asked Linda.

“If he shows up, I’ll shoot him,” said Alex nonchalantly.

“You can’t just shoot him, Alex,” said Ed.

“I’ve been down that road, and it got a lot of people killed—”

“That wasn’t your fault!” said Kate.

“I don’t see it that way anymore. If either of them approaches the house with a firearm, I’m taking them out.”

“What about the police?” asked Ed.

“What police?”

“You have to plan for the possibility that someone will hear the shots and contact the police. You said it yourself that they’re probably monitoring handheld radio frequencies,” said Ed.

“I have that covered.”

“The police?” countered Ed.

“No. The sound,” said Alex, to skeptical looks.

“What if they’re unarmed?” Kate asked.

“Unlikely.”

“You have to plan for the possibility,” said Kate.

“What’s wrong with all of you?” Alex said in frustration. “She lied to me out there. They’re either coming tonight, or they’ll try to hijack the car tomorrow.”

“Then maybe you should storm their house right now and kill everyone!” said Samantha, shaking her head in disgust.

“I’m not suggesting a preemptive strike!” Alex said. “We just need to take a more proactive stance here.”

Charlie piped in, “Why don’t we just capture whoever comes over?”

“Is anyone here trained to take down a potentially armed hostile?” Alex asked. “Just saying…” he added.

“I don’t think it’s out of the question,” said Ed.

“It’s out of the question. Trust me. It’ll take all three of us if he resists. What if he has help?”

“You really want to shoot him, don’t you?” said Samantha.

“Don’t you?”

Samantha shot him a nasty look, and the mudroom fell silent.

“I’ll issue a warning,” Alex said. “If a firearm is visible, they have to drop it. No exceptions. I’m not sending them back with the tools to try again. That’s all the leeway I’m willing to give.”

Ed let out a deep breath, “I can live with that.”

Samantha nodded. “All right.”

“We’ll need a lookout with a radio on the second floor,” said Charlie, “and someone on the ground level in case they try to get into the main house.”

“I’ll watch from Daniel’s room. Charlie’s probably a better choice to have guarding the doors,” said Ed.

“We’ll switch off, so you can get sleep, or at least try,” said Samantha.

“It’s gonna be a long night, but we’ll get through this. By noon tomorrow, you’ll be safe at the compound. We’ll join you with Chloe and Ryan the day after that,” said Alex.

“Easy as that?” said Ed, finally smiling.

“Easy as that,” repeated Alex.

Chapter 20

EVENT +21:37 Hours

^{Scarborough, Maine}

Alex swatted lethargically at the mosquitos. What was the point? The swarm above his head was unusually aggressive, relentlessly attacking his sweaty face. Their buzz competed with a distant generator. Annoying, but blameless, the mosquitos could be forgiven. Unlike humans, they lacked the capacity to govern their response to deeply ingrained survival instincts. Alex lay in the backyard as a hedge against their collective bet that Jamie and her husband had given in to their instincts.

Samantha had given him a thick comforter to lay over the mud, which he had placed over an old, supposedly waterproof poncho. The system had kept him dry for roughly seven minutes before the brackish water seeped over and around the poncho, quickly soaking the comforter. At least he wasn’t lying in a puddle of shit water. The hastily assembled ground cover had prevented him from sinking far enough into the mud for that.

He’d set up along the edge of the drainage easement behind the Walkers’ house, on the downward side of the slope, exposing little more than his rifle and his head to the house. His feet sat less than a foot from the water trapped in the ditch. The easement ran the entire length of the backyards, giving him an unobstructed view in both directions. The dual-tube night vision goggles had turned night into day, ensuring that nobody stood a chance of approaching undetected.

His earpiece crackled. “Alex,” Charlie reported, “I have a male with some type of rifle crossing the street between Jamie’s house and the house to the left. Looks like he’s headed to the Andersons’ next door. I need to go to the other side of the house. I’m about to lose him.”

“Stay where you are, and keep a close eye on Jamie’s house. Make sure we don’t have any more surprises. I have it from here. Charlie, did you copy?”

“Copy. Standing by,” said Charlie.

Alex pointed his HK416 semiautomatic rifle at the left corner of the house. He figured that Jeff would appear there first and slide along the house.

A darkened shape appeared beyond the corner for a moment. He focused his attention on the white trim, which appeared pale green in his goggles, and waited. Jeff Michaud’s head slowly emerged, followed by the shotgun. He pressed the transmit button on his shoulder-mounted handheld radio.

“He’s at the corner of Ed’s house. Pump action shotgun,” he whispered, mentally blocking out the nervous replies.

Several seconds later, Jamie’s husband stepped into the open and walked slowly along the back of the house, the mud sucking at his feet.

Alex moved his left hand along the hand guard to the vertical fore grip and double tapped the remote switch attached to the rail. A green light spanned the backyard, striking the house behind Michaud. Invisible to the naked eye, the infrared (IR) beam emitted by the Dual Beam Aiming Laser (DBAL) attached to the top rail of his rifle could only be seen using night vision technology. Alex shifted the laser onto Michaud’s head and waited for him to pause at the edge of the Walkers’ mangled deck.

“That’s far enough!” he warned.

Michaud raised the shotgun to his shoulder and aimed into the darkness beyond Alex, craning his head frantically. The green laser remained centered on his forehead. He took another step forward.

“Stop! Right! There!” yelled Alex. “Drop your weapon, and put your hands on top of your head!”

“Where are you?” said Michaud, shifting his aim in Alex’s general direction.

“Last chance, Jeff! Drop the shotgun, or I’ll shoot!”

Jeff Michaud paused, looked to both sides, and lowered the shotgun. Not good enough.

“Drop the shotgun!”

“I’ll leave! This is all I have to defend Jamie and the kids,” said Michaud.

“Either you drop the shotgun, or I’ll help you drop it.”

“I’m walking back to my house, Alex—and I’m taking this with me,” said Michaud.

“I’ll kill you if you take a single step with that thing. Last warning, Jeff!”

“You wouldn’t do that to Jamie and the kids! She’s already lost one husband,” he said, lifting his left foot out of the mud.

The rifle kicked, and Michaud dropped. The suppressor reduced the sound of the gunshot to that of a compressed-air-powered nail gun. With no background noise to compete, the sound would be heard clearly throughout the neighborhood and the street behind the Walkers’, but it wouldn’t register definitively as gunfire. Only someone with experience using suppressed firearms would be able to make the determination based on a single shot—not that anyone could call 911. He turned off the IR laser and stood up.

“You there, Alex?” said Charlie.

“I’m here. Jeff Michaud is dead.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Come out of the back door to the garage. Are we all clear, Ed?”

“All clear on the street, but something’s going on in Jamie’s mudroom. It’s hard to tell, but I saw some movement inside.”

“We’ll take care of it. Be careful by the window, Ed. Do like I showed you.”

“I’ll keep you posted. Are you sure Michaud is dead?”

“One hundred percent. Headshot,” said Alex.

“And we just leave him there?”

“Do you want to give him a proper burial?”

“Not really,” said Ed.

“Alex, was that a suppressor?” added Charlie.

“Let’s not transmit stuff like that in the open. Everyone cut the chatter. I’m headed across the backyard.”

The suppressor attached to his rifle was not registered with the ATF, and would most certainly land him in jail if discovered by authorities. He’d purchased it with a thick envelope of twenty-dollar bills after a gun show, hoping never to need it. He had a feeling it would be prove to be worth every penny in the upcoming days.

“Shit. Sorry, man. Probably just the echo or angle of the sound waves,” said Charlie.

“You done yet?” said Alex.

“Now I am. Out,” said Charlie.

They were using a privacy-coded subchannel within a rarely used public channel that had been silent all evening. He highly doubted anyone was listening, but he preferred they maintain better radio discipline. When they reached Boston, all of the channels would be busy, and finding a clear subchannel might present a challenge. He also wouldn’t be surprised if law enforcement officers within bigger departments were monitoring all of the available channels and subchannels.

With the grid down, handheld radios would become one of the only reliable forms of longer-range communication within the cities. Controlling the handheld channels or monitoring them would become critical. It was something they needed to keep in mind when navigating the city.

He replaced the radio and fought the mud on the flat ground above the easement lip. Tactically, the better move would be to use some of the sloped earth for cover and traverse along the axis of the ditch, but the mud was difficult enough on level ground, and the steep gradient led right into chest-high water. He had no plans for a midnight swim. Alex kept his rifle trained in the direction of the garage corner as he approached. Charlie’s form appeared in the door, and Alex signaled for him to cover the back of the house.

They had worked out very basic military signals for use on their trip. With Charlie aiming in the direction of the deck, he focused all of his attention on “slicing” the corner, finding the side of the garage clear of intruders. He’d patrol the front of the house, sweeping around back and linking up with Charlie. It was the only way to be sure Michaud didn’t have an accomplice lurking in the shadows.

He detected movement across the street, from Jamie’s mudroom stoop, but nobody emerged. It was hard to tell, but the green image cast by his night vision goggles suggested that the mudroom door was open. She was probably waiting for the Jeep to pull out of the garage before she started carting luggage into the driveway. Almost on cue, the front screen door opened, revealing at least two figures carrying luggage onto the stoop. Alex slid along the back of the garage to join Charlie.

“Side is clear. It looks like Jamie is pre-staging luggage for a quick departure,” said Alex.

“Damn,” said Charlie, “what do we do?”

“Send her a message,” said Alex, “once I confirm that we don’t have any more surprises waiting for us.”

Several minutes later, Alex returned to the garage corner with Michaud’s shotgun. “Anything new?”

“Nothing. Jamie’s sitting deep in the mudroom, watching the garage door. The girls are somewhere close by inside,” said Charlie, keeping the night vision scope on his rifle pressed to his face.

“The far side of the house is clear. Let’s send the message,” said Alex.

Alex followed Charlie into the garage and knelt next to the rear left tire of the Walkers’ disabled Honda Pilot. He braced his rifle against the side of the SUV and disengaged the safety. His trip to check the other side of the house had given Charlie enough time to communicate with Kate, who would make sure that everyone stayed clear of the front windows. He had no idea how Jamie would react to this message, and his search of Jeff Michaud’s body didn’t turn up the Glock 19.

Charlie pulled the toggle line connected to the garage door and stepped to the left side of the door. “Ready?”

“Open sesame,” said Alex.

The door jerked upward and started to roll on its track. By the time the door had reached the apex of its journey, Jamie and her daughters had started hauling the luggage off the porch. Alex activated the IR laser and directed the beam at Jamie’s chest. She reached the end of the walkway before stopping to stare at the open garage bay. She waved her hand behind her and hissed something at the girls that caused them to leave the luggage and scurry inside.

Alex guided the bright green beam past her head, placing it on the light fixture attached to the garage behind her. The rifle barked, sending a .223 bullet past her head at 3,000 feet per second. If the crack of the bullet didn’t make an impression, the sudden obliteration of the glass light enclosure should deliver the message.

Jamie lowered her body. Alex fired another round over her head, striking the top of the garage door behind her with a hollow thump. He hoped the Walkers’ garage would channel the sound of his suppressed rifle forward, limiting the directional extent of its detectability. At this point, the repeated sound would draw attention. He waited for her to react.

“I didn’t have a choice! He threatened the girls! He’s a piece of shit!” she screamed.

“Throw the Glock into the street and walk back into the house, Jamie!” yelled Alex.

“Is he dead?” she said, her voice breaking.

“He’s dead. Time’s up, Jamie. Toss the pistol and get inside.”

Jamie reached behind her back, causing him to tense and press into the SUV’s rear tire. He knew she would have to do this to comply with his demand, but it still made him nervous. Alex just hoped that Charlie didn’t get any panicky ideas.

“You okay over there?” he whispered.

“Yep. Finger’s off the trigger,” said Charlie.

“As soon as she turns around, you head out and get the pistol.”

“Got it.”

Jamie raised the pistol over her head and threw it as far as she could. She stood her ground on the driveway, facing the open garage bay.

“He never found it. Can you believe that? I should have put it up to his head while he was dead drunk and pulled the trigger. He had enough reasons to kill himself.”

“You should have warned me,” said Alex. “We would have helped you.”

“I did warn you. Route 26? He was listening to the whole conversation through one of the radios. That was all I could do.”

Alex stepped out of the shadows. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jamie. I just found out about what was going on with you tonight. We didn’t put it together.”

“I got pretty good at hiding it. We’ll be fine now. Completely fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the shotgun back—after you’re gone.”

“We’ll leave it in the garage. Back door will be unlocked—not that you can’t just walk through the sliding door,” he said, causing her to briefly laugh.

“Good luck getting your kids back from Boston. I figured you were splitting up between the bikes and the Jeep,” said Jamie.

“Help yourself to anything you can salvage. There’s a ton of food in our basement if you don’t mind snorkeling. Firearms too. Need to get to those quick, before the bores start to rust. I have a cord of wet firewood in my garage,” he said.

“Thanks, Alex. I’ll take you up on that, and I’ll keep an eye on the houses. Can I take the pistol?”

“Yeah. Clean it really well. There’s a lot of sand mixed into this mess,” said Alex.

“See you around,” she said.

“Good luck, Jamie. Hopefully we’ll see you shortly.”

“Somehow I think this is more of a permanent situation. We’re ready.”

Alex called Ed down to the mudroom, and helped Charlie secure the garage. They locked the bay door in place and barricaded the back door. Ed met them in the garage.

“I’m thinking we should leave right now,” said Ed.

“We can’t ride bikes in the dark,” said Kate, following him.

“The sun will be up in three hours. 5:50. We should at least start rolling out of here at five, before the neighborhood wakes up. By the time we get everyone to Route 1, they should have enough light to travel safely,” said Ed.

Kate nodded and rubbed her eyes.

“All right. We’ll let everyone sleep for another hour and a half, then get out of here. I don’t think she’s a threat, but who knows what she’s capable of with kids to protect?” said Alex.

“Why don’t you and Charlie get some sleep? I’ll take the next shift down here,” said Ed.

Alex handed Ed the muddied shotgun and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all yours, Ed. I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs, and uh—try not to make a mess,” he joked.

“Funny man for three in the morning,” said Alex.

“More like slap happy.”

“This is just the beginning of our fun. Wait until tomorrow night,” said Alex.

“Can’t wait. Charlie, I got this covered,” said Ed.

“You sure, amigo? I’m kind of amped up right now. I don’t mind holding down the fort,” said Charlie, stepping back into the kitchen.

“All the more reason for you to take a nap. Seriously, we’re all going to need as much rest as possible for tomorrow. Don’t make me wake up Linda to haul your ass upstairs,” said Alex.

Kate slipped into the upstairs bathroom after Alex and locked the door. She needed a moment with him alone, and this looked like it might be her last opportunity for a long time. Even when they reunited at the farm, they would be living on top of each other with nine additional people, bringing the total at the 2,200-square-foot contemporary farmhouse to seventeen. Alone time would become a premium, which was important for their relationship. Important on several levels, one of which was Alex’s mental health. The mental and physical rigors of their pandemic experience had worsened his post-traumatic distress symptoms, his nightmares, and had surfaced subtle changes to his behavior.

The changes were barely noticeable, but Alex seemed more prone to bouts of melancholy and a negative outlook. He’d always had the nightmares, pretending to wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, when Kate knew he was changing a sweat-soaked shirt and wiping his face. He hadn’t been the only one pretending. She would lay there breathing slowly, faking a deep sleep, grateful that he’d returned. Her deep, undisturbed sleep had become a joke in their family over the years, but it was a twisted façade. She slept so lightly at night, constantly waking up to Alex’s murmurs and sounds, that she could barely lift herself out of bed in the morning.

She’d kept this a secret from him for years, just like he’d tried to keep the nightmares from her. The onset of depression after the pandemic worried her the most, forcing her to suggest he seek PTSD-related counseling. The treatment had been marginally effective at combating his mood swings, and Kate relied on constant, close observation to guide him through tougher spells of darkness. Prior to the tsunami, Alex had been on one of the longest upward swings she could remember. She suspected that he’d started taking the medication he’d been prescribed, which he’d long been against. The current situation had the potential to send him in the opposite direction, and Kate needed to stay on top of it.

“I don’t think this is the right time,” he said, leaning his rifle against the wall next to the toilet.

“You wish. They ran out of hot water this afternoon. A cold shower with a stinky man isn’t at the top of my romantic encounters list. I just wanted to talk with you in private.”

“And I had been led to believe that I was irresistible under any circumstances,” he joked.

“I’m not sure a shower will do you any good.”

“Sadly, I don’t even notice anymore,” Alex said. “I know why you’re here, by the way.”

“That obvious?”

“I’m fine. Pretty clear-cut situation out there.”

He lit one of the candles on the marble bathroom counter and started to undress.

“It won’t always be that clear cut,” she said.

“Anything standing in the way of getting Ryan and Chloe back is a clear-cut threat. We know exactly what’s going to happen out there. What people are capable of. No second guessing on my end.”

“I know you’ll get them back. Tomorrow morning we’ll be together again. I’ll make a huge pancake breakfast for the entire crew. We’ll swim in the lake, kick back and enjoy the hard work we’ve put into the farm,” she said, barely believing her own words.

Alex didn’t fully believe it either. He never spoke a word of pessimism about their chances of rescuing Ryan and Chloe, but she could see it in his eyes. See him calculating the odds. They had no idea where the asteroid hit, if it had really been an asteroid. Alex didn’t seem convinced. None of them could reconcile the EMP effects with the government’s version of what had transpired this morning. The only data point that gave them all hope that it hadn’t been a hostile nuclear detonation came from Alex’s early-morning observation.

He determined that the fading light from the initial flash had been centered on a true bearing of one hundred and seventy degrees, which was east of Boston—possibly out to sea. The tsunami added credence to this theory.

Asteroid or nuclear weapon, it didn’t change the fact that the explosion had occurred much closer to Boston than Portland, and their son lived on the sixth floor of a fifty-year-old, fourteen-floor dormitory tower overlooking the Charles River. The implications hadn’t escaped either of them. The tsunami would be bigger, sweeping down the Charles River and flooding the campus. The blast and wind effects of the initial strike would be more devastating, causing serious external damage to buildings, and the seismic effect of the impact would be more pronounced, resulting in structural damage.

Alex would never say it, but his body language betrayed the elephant following them from room to room. Their rescue mission stood a good chance of turning into a recovery mission.

“I wish my parents would use the damn satphone. I’d feel better knowing that everything is all right out there. Is there any warm water at all?” he said and stripped down to his underwear.

“None, according to Sam,” said Kate. “I’m sure your parents are fine. We’ll be out there soon enough.”

“They’re not exactly spring chickens, and technology kicks their asses—unless it’s the Internet. They’re all over that.”

Kate laughed. “They have more of a social media presence than I do.”

“More than both of us,” he said and paused. “This may sound strange, but I hope that both of their cars are out of commission.”

“I had the same thought. Driving around isn’t a good idea right now.”

“Especially for those two. The worst would be if one of the cars started on the first try, and they just drove into town, still oblivious. They’d lose the car at their first stop, or worse.”

“Limerick is a tight community. I wouldn’t worry about them,” said Kate.

“What we saw tonight is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Ed’s Jeep carries more real-world value than the combined bank accounts of everyone in Scarborough. Don’t be surprised if we end up walking back from Boston.”

“Just stay in touch with the phone. Use your portable solar unit to keep it charged.”

“Unless we’re talking all day and all night, the phones should last pretty long,” said Alex.

“Humor me. If you end up walking back, we might not see you for several days.”

“I may have to talk Ed and Charlie into hiking a little further than I suggested. We can’t afford to lose the Jeep.”

“Good luck hauling Charlie and Ed that far,” she said quietly.

Alex leaned in, bringing his smelly body closer to hers. She tried not to react to the strong aroma of stagnant, rotting mud.

“Between you and me, I’m not taking either of them across the Charles—unless the situation requires it,” he whispered. “If I can convince them to guard the Jeep, all the better. Getting in and out of the city with our kids will require mobility and concentration. They’ll slow me down,” he whispered.

“These guys came through for you before. You’re not exactly a trained commando.”

“Compared to Ed and Charlie, I’m Delta Force. I’ll bring them as far as I can without jeopardizing the kids’ safety,” said Alex.

“Yeah, and good luck trying to talk Ed out of rescuing his daughter.”