Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Apocalypse

4) The Day of the EMP

People have been predicting the end of the world since man saw the gods in a lightning strike.

"Is it the end of times?" asked the news reporter that morning on the day that was the beginning of the end that had been happening all along.

It was the day of the EMP.

I was watching the news, something even a teenager could not look away from in those days. Listening to the news anchor, it was hard to believe the world was not ending. News of the latest school shooting was on the TV screen with the death total eighteen and rising. Fourteen students and four staff members, including the school resource officer and the principal, were among the dead. It was the eleventh large school shooting in the last year and no amount of arming staff - the principal had been carrying a semi-automatic weapon - seemed to be slowing the shootings down. Each shooting had ended with the same result - the suicide of the attacker and no answers.

On the day of the EMP and the last day of school that I would ever attend, my mom was out of town on business. After she had left my father, my mom went to work for an old friend who used to be her college professor, but was now an entrepreneur. I had met him only once, and thought he might like my mother, but she insisted they were just friends, and he was her boss. In the past two years, the business became more successful, and my mom traveled all over the United States. I was used to her being gone, and I was old enough to look after myself.

On the day of the EMP, my mom called me that morning and tried to get me to stay home, but I told her that we could not let fear win - a common phrase at the time. She agreed and so I went to my school - East Central High School - that day with a "be careful and I love you" from my mom.

Did I say I love you back? I don't know. It seems so long ago, I don't remember.

My last day of school was the last day of school for everyone and the first day of the end of the world. When the lights went out right after morning announcements, it took hours before we were released to go home. Meanwhile, a few random cell phones were still working, and we were getting reports that America was under siege. A boy who sat next to me in AP Biology showed me a video of a plane plunging to the ground.

"Isn't that cool?" he asked. "Someone got that on video."

"Can I see it again?" I asked. I tried to see if I could see what kind of plane it was - a number, an airline name. The picture of the falling plane was too small.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Her mom's out of town and coming home today. On a plane," said my best friend in the world, Steven Lindquist, called Lindy by everyone in the world but his Nana and me.

"Oh," said the boy who turned to show the video to someone else.

The adults at school first assumed our school was under attack because there was a distant boom that turned out to be a gas explosion. We heard the fire trucks going to the rescue, but when nobody came to our rescue and the adults got worried about their own families, we were sent home. 

I'll admit here that, while it was scary, it was all a little exciting too because nothing seemed ordinary that day. I didn't know what was next, but so far I was a survivor. A person who could tell later what they were doing that day - the day of the EMP that we didn't know yet was the last normal day. It was only later that I realized that the lucky ones might have been the ones who were already gone. The ones who did not know what hit them. The ones who fell from the sky or didn't escape the fires.

Steven and I walked home in eerie silence that was so like an early release day with snow falling that I really did think - this is like a snow day. He split off about half way home to go to his house, and I started walking alone until I got spooked by the silence. I kept seeing that falling plane. I started to run home. When I got there, my home was as silent as the walk home. I looked at my phone, and it was still dead. My mom could not call me even if she wanted to, I speculated. This gave me some comfort.

No sooner than I arrived home, my next door neighbor, Mr. Thomas, came over to check on me. He was always doing that, checking on me and mom, since he had moved here. He was a middle-aged bachelor who I thought was a little sweet on my mom. She said that was ridiculous, and why did I always think that men were sweet on her?

I said, "Because you are a dazzling beauty and I get my looks from you."

She would laugh and say, "Eliot, our brains are much more important than our looks."

Sweet on her or not, it did not stop Mr. Thomas from offering to mow our lawn or bring us part of a cake he made because it was too much for him to eat all by himself. I thought he was nosey and annoying, but my mom said he was harmless, and besides, everyone needed a handy man around. Mr. Thomas was not that handy in my opinion, just nosey.

Mr. Thomas didn't waste any time. "Is your mom out of town still?"

I guess he could see I was upset because he was unusually brief. "Don't worry. She'll be home soon. I know she is ok. I just feel it."

"Thank you," I said, though I was not so sure my mom was safe.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said as he left.

I sat on the front porch and waited for my mom like I did when I was little. I waited there on the porch swing the rest of the day. When the power didn't come back on and it got dark, I went inside. I found my flashlight and a pen and my journal in my desk drawer, and I began to write a list of all the survival tips my dad taught me that I could remember. If this was it, and it felt like it was it, I needed to be ready.

      Rules of Survival:

     Trust only yourself

     Avoid crowds

     Family first

     Don't be noticed

     Locks keep others out, but not me

     Find shelter and hide

     Boil water, cook prey thoroughly

     Listen, but do not listen to authority

     Have more than one weapon at all times

     When in doubt, run

     If you kill, leave nothing behind

     Always have an exit strategy

     Trust your gut

     No crying

That last one made me tear up. Were these all the rules? There were so many. Was I going to die because I couldn't remember them all? Where was my mama? I started thinking about the rest of my very small family. I thought of my aunt and uncle and my cousin, Carli. If my mom was gone and my dad was in hiding, they were the only family I had left. Were they safe? Would they come get me?

My aunt and uncle were in New York City, too far away to come right away, but Carli attended college in nearby High Point. She wasn't much older, but I would feel safer with her around. Would she come? Would she know I was alone?

I was getting anxious and nervous thinking about the possibility of me being all alone when I heard someone on the front porch. I grabbed my flashlight (weapon one) and a knife (weapon two) out of the kitchen drawer and headed to the door.

I hesitated at the door. Whoever was out there was making enough noise to wake the dead. Was I about to be robbed? Or worse, raped and left so mutilated the police would have to piece my body back together with duct tape? Just as I rationalized that Mr. Thomas might be back and was bringing me some leftover lasagna, I saw the doorknob turn. Mr. Thomas would never come on in.

There would be no delicious lasagna for supper; I was to be murdered instead.

The door opened an inch as I raised my knife to the beat of my heart coming out of my chest. I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I reached for the knob and yanked the door open.