Lee went to the desk, opened his laptop, and hit the power button. The small PC booted up as normal.
Perhaps being unplugged saved it? Lee thought.
Lee selected the icon for wireless networks, and nothing showed up. That was no surprise. He turned on his small cellular hot spot wireless but ended with the same result as his cell phone. No signal.
Decision time. Do I wait until daylight? Lee asked himself.
If the United States was now at war including the use of an EMP, power was not coming on soon. Dead cars would not miraculously start running. Lee’s car was in the garage. Was it possible his car and other cars avoided damage because they were inside the multilevel concrete structure? Lee needed to find out. He thought, however, that down nineteen floors would be a one-way trip. If he got to his car and found it electronically cooked like the ones visible from the windows, he would be forced to become a serious survivalist. Lee would be walking. Moreover, if the EMP had happened, this city would die a quick death. Thousands of visitors and residents would be in dire trouble. Adequate help would not be coming anytime soon. Food, water, and transportation would be a commodity ordinary people would start killing for. A running car could be a death sentence if you stayed in this town.
Lee decided. He packed his duffel with clothes and bathroom stuff. He would scrounge useful items from the room and sort the stuff out at his car, which he hoped against all odds was running. He stuffed the bag full including the computer. He put on sneakers, jeans, T-shirt, and a loose-fitting overshirt. It was early September and warm outside, but he went for jeans versus shorts. He then stuck the LC-9 in his right pocket and the other full magazine in his left rear pocket. He went to the window and took one last look out. The fire was still raging and continuing to spread consuming more and more buildings. The smell of smoke was penetrating the room. Lee guessed it was coming through the simple window air conditioner units that adorned most hotel rooms.
Lee put the duffel over his neck and one shoulder, put the flashlight in his left hand, palmed the Ruger one more time, went to the door, and cautiously opened it. The two drunks had seemingly gotten their door open, as they were gone. A couple of people were talking between rooms further down the hall. Lee put the security arm out to keep the door from latching, moved out into the hall, and headed toward the stairs.
The stairs were crowded with people—some coming up, some coming down. People were talking among their groups or to strangers while passing in the stairwell.
“What do you think happened?”
“Plane crash.”
“Terrorists.”
“Hoover dam broke.”
“Nuclear war.”
“Emergency broadcast was cut off.”
“Washington nuked.”
Lee heard all kinds of talk and guesses. However, not a single person said EMP. Lee knew from his own discussions with people and friends the public was mostly naive to EMP. Partly because the government rarely brought it up. Most serious preppers feel the government has no solution, so why talk about it? So most Americans had no clue. Of course, Lee was still assuming an EMP was the cause. Lee did not talk much to anyone in the stairwell, and he surely did not say EMP. Hell was going to break loose in Las Vegas, and Lee wanted to be out of town as soon as possible. Is it selfish? he thought. No, he had prepared for this possibility. Even after constant reminders about being ready for an emergency most people did nothing in preparation for the slightest hiccup in their cozy lives.
Lee came out of the stairwell and into the casino, lit by emergency lights. Hundreds of people were milling around. The employees were trying to keep calm and answer questions, but they looked even more fearful than the civilians. They probably knew they would be vulnerable when these pissed-off people started taking out frustration on anyone with any authority.
Lee kept moving. He kept the flashlight off and hidden, not wanting to lose it. He made his way to an exit, out, and down the street to the parking garage. It was a warm fall evening in Vegas. Temperature was in the eighties, Lee guessed. Dry as usual for the desert. Thankfully, Lee thought about how he had parked his own car and not used valet. He would usually park his own car. What good would a bag full of survival gear be if he could not even find his car, was something Lee considered whenever tempted to use a valet. It was quite dark outside, but dozens of emergency lights produced a glow from buildings making navigating easy. Most stores had closed and pulled down security shutters. He did see a commotion at the pharmacy on the corner. Security was trying to usher out the crowd to lock the doors. It was not going well. Two Las Vegas police officers were heading toward the pharmacy.
Lee started up the stairs to the second floor of the garage. Now it was really dark. The garage emergency lighting was either minimal or not working. Car lights shined from a few locations, helping Lee to navigate the dark interior of the garage. Lee saw people in some cars lit up by interior lights. He heard a couple of cars “cranking” over but heard none starting or running. Hoods were up on several cars, and people were discussing and trying to discover the problem. Lee kept moving.
Please start, Lee thought. But he honestly did not have much hope. Older cars were theoretically more EMP proof than newer ones. He had already seen several cars much older than his that were not starting. Lee’s nearly new Ford Explorer had all the bells and whistles with all kinds of modern electronics including engine controls. “Good luck,” he said quietly under his breath.
Lee got close to his car. He decided to forgo trying the remote door locks. His remote key Fob had a real key attached to it. Hoping to stay out of sight and the minds of others, he moved slowly and carefully to his car. He used the real key to unlock the driver’s side door and slide in, throwing the duffel in the passenger seat. The car smelled of burned electronics, which Lee considered a bad sign. He pulled the Ruger from his pocket, placing it one of the cup holders. He put the key in the lock of the steering column and, looking around to ensure no one was close, turned it to the first position. Nothing happened. The normal array of various indicator and warning lamps on the dash panel did not light up. Neither did the GPS entertainment screen. He then turned the key to the crank position. Nothing. Obviously, the electronics in this model even controlled the starter motor. “Well, that answers that. Looks like I am walking,” Lee mumbled as he sat there in the dark, worthless pile of metal that used to be a car.
Just to be sure, like everyone else, Lee did get out and open the hood and used his flashlight to look around. Nothing was obvious. Battery was still there. He could smell the same burned odor as the inside. Otherwise, it looked normal. Lee’s high technology automobile would probably not be running anytime soon, if ever. The country had perhaps become a massive wrecking yard, with thousands or millions of cars sitting useless. “Five thousand pounds of scrap,” Lee said to no one.
Lee climbed back into the car and by hand unlocked the rear door and climbed into the backseat to prepare his gear. Keeping out of sight would minimize the number of people that may see him while getting ready. Lee folded down the right rear seat, slid the Bug Out Bag forward, and opened it up. He pulled out a pair of tan-colored cargo pants and a vacuum-sealed bag containing a tan military undershirt. Lee packed many items, including some of the clothing, in vacuum bags. The vacuum bags shrank bulking clothing down, saving room and keeping everything clean and dry even if the backpack got wet. Quickly he changed into the clothing. He reached over the rear seat for a pair of combat boots he stored loosely in the back. He pulled out two pairs of heavy thick socks, which were kept in the boots. One pair he pulled on and the other pair he stuffed