Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“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.

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.