Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

A brilliant, undulating reddish glow appeared in the southwestern sky, high above the visible horizon. He closed his eyes and shook his head, seriously wondering if he might have a head injury. Nothing he had felt or seen since opening his eyes this morning seemed normal. Of course, he assumed it was still morning.

He checked his watch: 5:01 AM. Sunrise was at 5:50. Morning Nautical Twilight began twenty minutes ago. He looked over his shoulder toward the east and could see a slight difference between the blackness above and the sky showing between the trees. The sun was rising where it should.

That’s a good start .

He turned back to the surreal lightshow to the west. The reddish-purple spectacle changed shape and appeared to pulse over the entire southwest horizon. He’d seen this before. He shook his head.

“No way,” he said, knowing there was only one way to find out.

Alex stepped aft, positioning himself behind the wheel where he could see the boat’s magnetic compass dial. He pressed a button on the center console to illuminate the compass, and pressed it again.

Shit.

He took a small LED flashlight out of his pocket and jabbed at the on/off control. A shaky light bathed the compass, bringing the nightmare to life. The compass direction moved slowly from the direction of the fading, red aurora toward what he knew to be the right cardinal settings.

Not good at all.

He fumbled to activate the digital chart plotter and navigation system mounted above the wheel. Nothing. He thought about calling out to Kate, but reached for the engine ignition panel instead. He turned the key, not sure what would happen. The engine sputtered for a moment and started.

“All right. All right. That’s a good sign,” he mumbled.

The forty-horsepower Yanmar diesel engine hummed, vibrating the cockpit and shattering the cove’s tranquility. He pulled the kill lever, secure in the knowledge that they could reach the Portland Harbor without getting wet.

A light from the forward berth illuminated the cabin, flickering back and forth as the source drew closer to the cabin door. He stepped forward in the tight cockpit to intercept Kate at the screen door. Woken by the unexpected engine start, she would no doubt be in a hurry to investigate. The door slid open just as he arrived.

“Why did you start—”

“Shhhh,” he said, putting a hand out to stop her. “Let’s talk out here.”

“Did we slip anchor?” she asked, shining the light in his face.

“Not in my face, please. We’re right where we should—”

“Something is wrong with the lights.”

She was in rapid-fire mode, no doubt brought on by her sudden maritime wake up. Kate was a notoriously deep sleeper at home, who did not respond well to being jarred awake. On the boat she was an entirely different person. She understood the fluid nature of boating, which required quick decisions and immediate action. Boats slipped anchorages, storms arrived unannounced, and equipment failed—often in the middle of the night, and always at the least opportune time.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“You haven’t really answered any of my questions,” she said.

Alex pulled Kate through the cockpit door and pointed to the bright red and purple aura to the west.

“What do you think that is?” he asked.

She stared off into the distance, shaking her head slowly before finally shrugging her shoulders. “Looks like the northern lights, but the wrong color. But that’s not north, is it?” she asked, finally rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Southwest,” he stated, gripping her hand.

“Why did you start the diesel?” she insisted, her gaze captivated by the lights dancing playfully above the southwestern horizon.

“Because I didn’t think it would start. I’ve seen pictures like that at Quantico. Looks a lot like the atmospheric nuclear tests they did out in the Pacific,” he said.

“You don’t think that was a nuke, do you?” she asked sharply, stepping off the cockpit bench.

“I don’t know, but I saw a massive flash of light from the south,” he said, pointing to the island off the starboard side, “then I felt a strange tingling, like I was about to get hit by lightning. Now none of our electronics work. I’d say we were hit by an EMP.”

Kate pushed his hand away and descended the cabin steps. Alex heard her try to activate the VHF marine radio at the navigation table.

“The radio is dead. So is everything else at the nav station.”

“All of the navigation gear is either connected to the radio antenna or the GPS receiver—all located at the top of our mast. An EMP wave would travel right down the wire and fry everything,” he said.

Kate directed the flashlight at his face.

“Will you stop blinding me with that damn light?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Kate said. “Have you checked the portable electronics?”

“Not yet. I’m going to see if I can restore electrical power to the lights and a few other systems.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the lights. It’s almost dawn. Get the water pumps and the head working. What about the bilge pump?” Kate said.

“It’s hardwired to the battery bank, like the engine. Should be fine, but let’s check.”

Alex waited for Kate to gather the handheld electronics from a cabinet above the navigation table and move to the small couch across from Emily’s bed. Their daughter had begun to stir, but still remained asleep. He really hoped she would stay asleep until they figured out what was going on. They needed a little more time to think before adding a panicky teenager to the mix.

He illuminated the electrical panel and noticed that all of the breaker switches had been tripped. No surprise there. He flipped all of the switches and tried the light mounted to the navigation table. Nothing. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The electrical surge generated by an EMP didn’t give surge protectors or breakers time to react to the change in current.

Beyond the microwave oven, radio and the navigation equipment, most of the gear connected to the boat’s electrical system didn’t contain any of the sensitive microchips susceptible to an amplified EMP wave. If the breaker mechanism itself had been damaged, they would have to do without the electrical system on the return trip to Portland.

“I’m pretty sure the breaker is fried. We’ll have to use the manual pumps to draw water. As for the head, I’m not sure what we can do. I don’t think it works without electricity,” he whispered.

“Not a big deal. We’re not that far from Portland. The handheld stuff seems to work fine. Can you tell if we are getting a signal?” she said, holding up the illuminated GPS plotter screen toward him.

“Let’s see,” he said, taking the unit.

The small satellite icon in the upper right corner of the screen indicated that the unit was receiving a satellite signal. He navigated through a series of onscreen menus to get more information.

“It says we’re tracking six satellites. That’s good news. See if you can pick up anything on the radio. Let’s take this topside so we don’t wake the kids,” he said.

Kate followed Alex up the steps and into the cockpit, where a refreshingly cool sea breeze greeted them, evaporating the small beads of sweat that had formed on Alex’s forehead in defiance of the chilly, coastal air. Despite his demeanor, he was terrified by the prospect of what might lie ahead for them. If something big had indeed gone wrong, he had little doubt that society would quickly collapse. Confidence in the government’s ability to handle a major crisis was at an all-time low.

The 2013 flu pandemic had exposed the nation’s essential service infrastructure to a slow burn, which caused a rapid, critical failure across the board, launching the country into chaos. While the northernmost states and the upper Midwest had added freezing temperatures and winter storms to the disaster already unfolding, the warmer regions were hit the hardest. The harsh winter weather dampened and eventually extinguished the widespread rioting, looting and violence that continued unabated in cities like Atlanta, Dallas, and Los Angeles. Even the Mid-Atlantic cities saw their share of the devastating civil unrest that ultimately claimed just as many lives as the H16N1 virus.