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Worst Case Scenario Page 8
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“Good point.” They both laughed.
< >
Now, Ian gazed at the smoldering embers of the all but dead fire in Dukes’ home. He knew he had about an hour before the sun came up, and he wasn’t going to get any more sleep, so he quietly rolled out of the sleeping bag and made his way into the kitchen. Once there, he found the ingredients to start a strong pot of coffee.
“So, where’re we headed?” Mary asked, surprising him in the kitchen. She looked like hell. Her eyes were swollen and the wet hair she had when she went to bed, had dried and frizzed in all directions.
People very seldom surprised Ian, but Mary had successfully gotten off of the couch and startled him in the kitchen. He chalked it up to his weariness and the events that put them together. He would have to refocus for them to make it.
“Hi,” he said, a little too quickly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay, it doesn’t happen often, consider yourself one of the lucky few.”
“I think I already do,” she said, really referring to the events more than her ability to startle Ian.
“Do you drink coffee?” Ian let the comment go without follow-up.
“Yes, black,” she answered, watching Ian work the percolator and the gas stove.
“Last night we were all talking about the EMP effects from the bomb, and that all electrical stuff would stop working.
“Yes.”
“So, why does all of Dukes’ stuff work? Why can I flip on the kitchen light? Is it as bad as we think?” She grasped at any straw that reality was not what it had become
“I don’t really know for sure,” Ian said, his eyes looking across the ceiling of the cabin.
“I’ll take your best guess, you seem to be pretty good at figuring things out.”
Ian nodded. He found two mugs and poured two cups of coffee. “Well, the reason electronics, or more specifically, electronic devices that use microchips don’t work after an electromagnetic pulse is that their circuits are fried by the over ionization of electronic molecules in the air. It’s kind like a static discharge will fry your computer. Everything gets fried by this huge pulse.”
“And that’s why we crashed, on the plane, right?” she asked, gingerly sipping at the rim of the mug.
“Pretty much that and the shock wave from the Atlanta explosion hit us. A lot of planes are insulated from electromagnetic energy, but I guess we were so close to the explosion that it just overwhelmed us,” Ian said, looking up at the rafters of the house. “But as to why Dukes’ stuff is still working is a mystery to me,” he admitted.
Mary nodded and took another sip of coffee. “You know,” she started, and then took another sip of coffee in stead.
Ian waited for her to say what she wanted to say.
Mary swallowed and her gaze fixed into the mug of black water. She didn’t say anything for almost a minute.
“Elizabeth was her name,” she simply said, followed by a sniff. She took another sip of coffee, and kept her lips on the rim. She gazed into the distance, mulling over her thoughts.
“Who was she?” Ian asked, his tone soft.
“We had been together for almost 15 years. We weren’t married, but next week would have been 15 years,” she offered.
“Oh,” Ian was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that confession. Mary kept surprising him.
“I talked to her right before we took off from Houston. I know she was at home. We lived close to downtown Atlanta, so…”
“Mary, I am so sorry,” he said.
She nodded and then looked up at June and Dukes as they came into the kitchen.
“I’m glad you found the coffee,” June said, seemingly happy that her guests had made themselves at home. She seemed to gloss over the watery eyes of the other women, and didn’t want to pry.
“Sorry about barging into your kitchen, we couldn’t sleep,” Mary said, with a sniff.
“That’s just fine,” June said, opening a cupboard and producing a box of grits. “I don’t think any of us slept last night.”
“Mary, would you be so kind to help me get things ready?” June asked the other woman and effectively shutting down the conversation, and shooing the men out of the kitchen.
Mary smiled at Ian in a way to say that they could talk later. “You bet, what do you need me to do?” She wiped her sleeve across her eyes and looked as ready as she could look.
“Ian,” Dukes called him over to a door on the opposite side of the room. Dukes opened the door and on the other side was a metal door in the floor. Dukes pulled open the metal door and revealed steps leading down.
“Bunker?” Ian asked.
“Yup. Come down with me, I’ve decided that we can help each other.”
“Okay,” Ian said, following. Ian followed the man down to an expansive room under the small cabin. “This place is huge!”
“That guy we were talking to last night, Birmingham Bob, helped me design this place,” Dukes said, flipped on a few lights; the room kept expanding with the artificial light. “It’s about four times the square footage of the house upstairs. I built this before I built the house upstairs. All of my power supplies are encased down here,” he said very proud of the space.
“Nice,” Ian said, taking the place in with awe.
Dukes opened up another door to show a battery bank and a power inverter. “The entire bunker is made of four steel shipping containers. I had them reinforced with steel I-beams and treated so I could bury them. We’re about 15 feet under ground.”
“Dukes, this is impressive!” Ian gushed.
“The house upstairs is actually three shipping containers that are welded together. All of the glass is a fine wire mesh and all of my wiring is shielded. I did a lot of research, and this is what I thought would do the trick, so…”
“So, all of your wiring, the lights and stuff upstairs?”
“It is all shielded from electro-magnetic interference. The entire house is a Faraday cage.”
Ian whistled. “That’s impressive.”
Dukes smiled proudly. “I thought you might like to see the bones of the place. My dad was a textile mill maintenance man. He could fix anything and tricked out almost everything we had on our farm. I helped him build a bomb shelter in the 60s and kind of took his idea, and along with some great ideas from my buddy Bob, I made it better.”
“So your dad inspired you?”
“Yes, he did, and he financed the dream too. When he and mom died, they left us with a fortune in pension money and land. It kind of helps, you know, with all the prepping expenses and all.”
“I know that’s true!” Ian agreed.
“What you didn’t see outside last night was our hydro system,” Dukes said, leading Ian over to a small room. “I’m kind of proud of it. I designed it myself.”
Dukes showed Ian a small generator being turned by a gearbox that mounted to the exterior wall.
“It gets its power from a nearby creek,” he said, watching the generator turn slowly. “It can get pretty hot down here sometimes,” he chuckled. “Most of the power gets stored in the batteries, and that’s what’s going to save us now that everything else has failed.”
“It looks like all of your stuff is okay,” Ian offered, his eyes scanning for any fried wiring or charred electrical boxes.
“I’m sure I’ll have to rewire something,” Dukes agreed. “An EMP as big as what hit us had to do some damage. Probably the electric fence around the property and exterior cameras at minimum.”
“I missed those when we came in last night.”
“Recon man, recon,” Dukes said, with a smile. “We know where to look for things and where other people look for things. So, we know where to put things that other people would miss. But,” Dukes admitted, “you’re pretty observant, yourself.”
Ian only nodded.
Dukes walked them out of the power generating room and through a set of steel doors. “I now consider myself pre
tty lucky.”
Ian didn’t respond, he knew there was more coming.
“I say that because, thankfully, I wasn’t in Atlanta when that thing went off and my family was here too. They’re safe. We’re prepared to stick it out for the long haul. And…and, I know that must be hard to look at, knowing that you’re separated from your family and all,” Dukes said, opening a shallow closet.
Ian agreed by nodding his head and pursing his lips.
In the closet were a dozen backpacks hanging from hooks. Each one was black and each one was packed so that every ounce of space was taken. There was a numeric code assigned next to each hook. Dukes took two down and handed them to Ian. The code on one hook read 2D/2P, and the other code was 2D/2P + X.
“I want you to have what I have, I want you to make it back to your family.”
“Thanks,” his tone, solemn.
“Well, I’m not done yet. I think we can help each other.”
“Sure, how do you mean?”
“I need some eyes and ears on the ground. With your military background and obvious ability to see detail, you can really help me start to spread the word about life out there now.”
Ian nodded. “I like that plan, Dukes. Of course I can do that.”
“I have a pretty good network of HAM radio guys. Someone has to get the truth about what’s going on out on the air.”
Ian agreed. “You’re on, I’ll be your Recon.”
Ian took the packs and slung one over each shoulder. The ‘X’ pack was heavier. “Thanks.”
Dukes shook Ian’s outstretched hand. “I’ve got one more thing to give you that might help,” he said closing the closet and headed to another set of doors. “By the way. Both packs are two days worth of supplies for two people, but the one with the ‘X’ on the handle.”
Ian took the heavy pack off to reveal that there was a red X stitched on the carrying handle.
“It also has a 100 mile two way radio, a short wave radio, a set of binoculars, a camp ax and,” he flipped the combination on a pad lock and opened the door to a room dedicated to weapons. “25 rounds of 9mm hollow points.”
“Wow!” Ian smiled at the number of pistols, rifles and knives mounted in cases around the room. “Now that’s really impressive!”
“Alright sir, you’re the Military Intelligence officer, so...” He handed Ian a 9mm pistol. He didn’t have to tell him that it was already loaded. “Every officer needs a good side arm. That’s one of my older ones, but I’m sure you won’t mind. ”
“Roger that,” Ian affirmed. He liked the weight of the Glock 17 in his hand. He checked the chamber to see that there was a round ready to go. Dukes also gave him a shoulder holster and an extra clip of extra ammo.
“Thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome. So,” he turned to look at Ian. “What about Mary? Do you want her armed?”
Ian had been thinking about that question since he realized that she would be coming with him. Either way, armed or not, she could be a liability…or an asset.
“Yeah, I think I do,” Ian said, his eyes surveyed the arsenal. He was impressed. “I’d love to outfit her with an AR-15 or .308, but Dukes, I don’t think she’s ever even held anything more dangerous than a sharp steak knife.” Probably a liability. “Let’s keep her in the same ammo family as me…something in a 9mm.”
“Alright, something in a 9mm for a first time bad ass woman.”
“So, when you say it that way…”
“Ian, I actually like the Smith M&P better than the Glock 17 I gave you, but being able to swap magazines with June or Penny in a fire fight is golden for an old prepper like me.”
“Good point.”
“So, take this,” Dukes said, handing Ian a folded over weapon. “Once again, it is a little older, but I think it will work for you.”
Ian unhinged the small carbine rifle and checked the chamber. It was unloaded. “A Kel-Tec, what an awesome choice. Lightweight, less kickback than a traditional rifle, easier to handle and hit a target than a pistol, and it takes the same ammo and clip as the Glock. You know, this is the second rifle I started Grace on after the .22.”
“I have three of them for those exact reasons. Take that one for Mary.”
Ian stowed the weapons and followed Dukes back upstairs, where he was greeted to the smell of a warm breakfast.
After eating, Dukes and Ian reviewed maps and communications protocols before Ian and Mary geared up and headed outside with Dukes, Penny and June. The early morning light was just breaking over the trees. It was as if nothing of significance had happened in the world.
“I have a debt to you and your family that I might not ever be able to repay,” Ian said to Dukes and his family.
Dukes held out his hand and Ian grabbed it and pulled the other man into an embrace. “Thank you, brother,” Ian said, quietly.
“Just get me some intel about what you see and who we’re up against. I’ll do my best to help guide you home,” Dukes said, releasing the man.
Mary was somber and hugged everyone. She was having a hard time keeping her emotions in check and decided not to say anything as she fought tears.
“Tell your daughter that I’d like to meet her sometime,” Penny said, to Ian’s surprise. “If your anything like my father, I bet we have a lot in common,” she added.
Ian smiled. “I’ll do that Penny.”
At that second, they heard a loud booming sound rumble across the farm.
“That sounded like something big,” June said, her voice trembling.
“There’s a natural gas terminal on the on the Georgia side of the lake near the highway. I bet that’s what it was,” Dukes surmised. “I need to check those cameras and we should get inside.”
With a deep breath, Ian tugged the straps of his pack a little tighter. “We should go then,” he said and started walking. “Thank you again, and God’s peace.” And with that, Ian and Mary quickly lost sight of the cabin as they headed northwest towards Birmingham.
To be continued…
The Worst Case Scenario Series
Book 2: Bug Out
Acknowledgments
This series of books is like nothing else I have ever written. They sprung to life quickly while traveling home on a plane. We were circling to land at the airport in Atlanta…hence the beginning.
I’d like to thank Dan. One Friday morning, he made a comment about how much he enjoyed reading the action scenes in the draft version of Mighty To Save, my follow up to Underlying Grace. It was that comment that inspired me to pen a pure action series. Thanks again, Dan.
The most important person to thank is my wife. She puts up with reading endless editions of my work and providing the voice of reality when I don’t quite have it right. Perhaps one day she and I can sell ice together…she knows what that means.
I’d also like to acknowledge the other writer in our family, my son, Justin A. Mercer. I’d invite you to read his work discussing teen depression. The book is titled Hell Has No Stars. It went viral on Facebook in 2014…I had no idea that so many people were impacted by teen depression.
Finally, I know that my talent and passion to write is derived from a source that does not wholly belong to me. It belongs to God, and I hope that I am using it to His glory.
Heroes rise to handle adversity. Heroes rise to satisfy need. Heroes rise unselfishly. Jesus is my hero, and He is Risen!
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