Chapter 4
2345, Day Zero, Las Vegas, Nevada
Lee walked down the exit stairs of the parking garage and out onto Carson Street between 3rd and 4th streets carrying the backpack, chest rig, and fanny pack. He was trying hard to get a stride going and balance the heavy load. The September night was cool, but he was already sweating from the heavy weight of his pack. Having the packs surrounding him added to the heat buildup and sweat. Sweating this much meant his water use would be high.
Lee turned to the right and headed west toward the railroad tracks. The tracks ran east and west between him and the Interstate-15 freeway to the north. The tracks would be Lee’s route out Downtown Vegas. Railroad tracks in general took a straight line and were the shortest and most level routes. Lee knew the streets and freeway were going to be a dangerous place. The stranded people from the electronically fried cars were now without water, food, and help. His large survival bag would be a natural target. Railroad tracks, normally being the last place a person would want to go, would now be the ideal place.
Lee tried to stay in the shadows as he moved along the buildings passing people on the street. The moon was about three-quarters full, having been full a few days earlier. Now high in the sky, it was casting plenty of light, which made walking without a flashlight easy. However, the uneasy feeling of walking down a mostly dark Las Vegas street was haunting. He continually looked around and kept close eye on anyone nearby. People were moving around aimlessly. For the most part, people he saw looked stunned and shocked and were staying with their cars or lurking in small groups talking.
It was about thirteen short blocks to the railroad tracks. When Lee reached Main Street, which was parallel along the tracks, he saw a lot more people. Several stalled or parked taxis were ahead, and a large group of drivers were gathered near them. To avoid them, Lee moved as far out of the street as possible. One of the drivers did call after him, but Lee ignored him and dodged between several broken-down cars as he crossed Main Street.
The smoke from the massive fire was bad and starting to sting Lee’s eyes. The orange glow over the freeway was ominous and huge. Lee kept to Main Street for about a block until he found a debris and junk-ridden path that seemed likely to lead to the tracks. The path was worn and littered with broken wine and beer bottles and other trash. As well-traveled as it looked, Lee guessed it to be a homeless path to the railroad tracks.
When Lee reached the tracks, he stopped, took a knee, and remained still for a minute or so to survey the scene. Seeing no one, he got back up, shouldered the pack, and started to move west along the tracks. A service road provided an easy path as long as he watched for litter, debris, or large rocks. Lee worried about being in the open with the moonlight, making him easy to spot. He would need to remain vigilant and keep his head on a swivel. His pack created a large blind spot to the rear, forcing him to spin every fifty paces or so. He would spin to his right then left, looking back for any danger coming up from behind.
Lee walked for about a mile without problems. But his luck ran out. Suddenly out of some debris-ridden buildings on the right, three figures emerged moving out to block his path. Lee slowed but kept moving and, at the same time, reached into the fanny pack and placed his hand on the Ruger. A round was in the chamber and ready to fire.
As Lee got close, one of the dimly lit figures called out, “Hey, bro. Where you heading?”
“Nowhere that is any of your business,” Lee said back.
“Shit, man, that is not the way to be with the fucking world falling apart. We might all need to help each other, man.”
“Well, I do not have time for chitchat, so you guys need to just move out of my way,” Lee said.
“Like, why the fuck should we do that, asshole?” Another of the figures stammered out, obviously half-drunk or stoned.
“Because if you don’t, I will blow your dumb-ass heads off,” Lee said while pulling the pistol out of the fanny pack and pointing it at the three figures.
“Shit, man, like what the fuck,” replied one of the men as they moved back down the bank.
“What an asshole,” the other druggie said.
Moving rapidly, Lee walked past them turning and keeping the gun trained on them. Being careful not to stumble, he moved in a sidestep motion. The druggies stood facing him, watching his retreat south. When about forty yards away, Lee turned forward to move faster, figuring they would not follow. He also thought if they did the noise, they would make walking in the rocks and gravel would be loud as hell. He had moved another twenty yards when thud—something hit the backpack. Lee spun back around in time to see one of the sleaze balls throw a rock in his direction. In the dark, it was impossible to see it coming, so he did the best to shield his face and head. He dropped to one knee, brought the LC-9 up, pointed it in their direction, and squeezed off six rapid shots: bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. The little Ruger spit out the nine-millimeter rounds without any problem or hiccups. Lee never expected a hit at this range with the small short barrel pistol. It surprised him when one man screamed out and fell over into the gravel. The other two turned and ran quickly, leaving their friend lying in the rocks. Lee fired two more shots for good measure, turned, and double-timed down the tracks.
Lee moved rapidly down the tracks. He pressed the release, dropping out the near-empty mag and sliding it to his right pocket while he was moving. He pulled out a full mag from his left pocket and shoved it into gun. After running for several hundred yards, he slowed and stepped behind a signal box and peered back to see if anyone was stupid enough to follow him. Winded and panting hard, he waited a couple of minutes before moving on. Lee thought about the druggies running to the cops. But he thought the police had a hell of a lot more important things to worry about right now. Stoned-out druggies reporting someone had shot at them would be a minor problem for the police right now.
Crouching to catch his breath, Lee stayed put for a few minutes. He pulled one of the water bottles out of the pouch on the fanny pack and took a long drag of the stale water. Lee made a mental note that he should have changed out the stored water more often. “I guess I will do that for the next EMP event,” he said aloud, thinking it amusing. It took Lee about five minutes to lessen his heavy breathing. He was still in good shape, but he was not an exercise nut and had not done any serious hiking since a two-day hike up Mount Whitney with some friends. That was about ten years ago. His leg muscles were in decent shape for his age, and that helped. Being out of breath, he decided would be the worst problem on what might be a very long walk home.
Chapter 5
0030, Day 1, Glendale, California
Dayyan waited about an hour after the EMP before opening the sealed box. He had received some training on EMPs and he had read several articles about them. He knew that for this powerful of a pulse, the only real possibility was a nuclear blast at high altitude. A solar eclipse or Coronial Mass Ejection, known as a CME, would not have the power for this level damage. He was convinced an EMP was the cause of the power failure and the dead cars. He had waited to open it to prevent damage if another weapon was detonated.
He pulled the plastic tactical case out of the cardboard box. The high-tech container was sealed with a strip of silver foil tape wrapped around the full perimeter of the seam. He used his knife to cut the tape, opened the box, and found it lined on the inside with the same type of foil tape. A coiled metal-type seal had replaced the normal rubber O-ring. Inside the box was a large plastic bag that contained another Mylar bag, which in turn contained one last plastic bag. Dayyan thought this might be overkill for EMP. But he had gathered a lot of knowledge after reading various technical articles, including the latest Air Force report to Congress. The best scientific minds in the world were not sure how much damage electronics would see during an EMP event.
Inside the final bag was a new Iridium 9505 Satellite phone plus a car charger and four extra batteries. Dayyan installed a battery, powered on the phone, and went outside to check for a signal. It read full strength.