The Geostorm Series (Book 2): Geostorm [The Pulse] Read online

  The CNN host turned to an in-studio guest for comment. “What do you make of this?”

  A female scientist sat up in her chair and responded, “Naturally, I applaud the administration for thinking outside the box. That said, they’re in for a rude awakening as they attempt to implement this plan. You see, the nation’s power grid, except for Texas, is tied together.”

  “How so?” asked the host.

  “The best way to look at the nation’s electric supply is by region,” replied the guest. “The U.S. is divided into two major interconnected power grids. The Western Interconnection spans the entire West Coast from Canada to Mexico, and then east over towards the Midwest. The Eastern Interconnection includes all of the East Coast and extends to the base of the Rocky Mountains. Both of the major power grids exclude Alaska, Hawaii and Texas.”

  “I can understand how Alaska and Hawaii are separated geographically, but why Texas?” asked the CNN host.

  “Partly because of their historical desire for self-sufficiency and partly because of their independent streak epitomized by their motto, Don’t Mess with Texas, the state maintained its separation from the rest of the country during the early days of building the grid. During World War II, Texas was home to several factories vital to the war effort. Their utility planners were anxious to keep the assembly lines running and were concerned about the reliability of the power supply from other states. Texas continues to be the nation’s number one gas producer and one of the top coal producers.”

  The host interrupted. “Texas created its own island of energy. They didn’t need the rest of the nation.”

  “Basically, yes,” replied the scientist. “It has served them well. As a result, the Texas grid is exempt from the majority of regulations imposed by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission because they do not sell electricity across state lines.”

  “How does this all tie together?”

  The scientist took a deep breath and explained, “Using what happened in Europe as an example, depending on where the geostorm hits the hardest, parts of America may be in the dark and parts may not. It all depends on the strength of the storm and the cascading effect of the infrastructure failure.

  “If the rumors coming out of the White House are true, then the president intends to avoid this cascading failure, but he’s not seeing the pitfalls of this approach.”

  “And they are?” asked the host.

  “For one, does the president plan on restarting the power grid after the storm passes? You don’t turn on and off the nation’s power supply by flipping a light switch. Or does he plan on leaving it off until the poles settle in place? Do you realize how long that may take?”

  “How long?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “A thousand years or more.”

  Squire laughed. He muted the television and set the remote on the coffee table. “Well, I don’t plan on living that long, but I sure as hell don’t plan on cutting my life short because of this crap.”

  Sarah stood and hugged her husband. “We won’t go down without a fight.” She paused to kiss him and then looked him in the eye. “I love you, Squire Boone. Always have, always will.”

  “Good thing. You promised to love, obey, and cherish.”

  She slugged him on the chest. “Two out of three ain’t bad, you old cuss. You know, I wouldn’t mind pickin’ up a few more things from Walmart. Do you mind if I holler at Carly and—?”

  Squire interrupted her. “How ’bout me? Can’t I go?”

  “You hate Walmart.”

  “That I do. But I love my missus, and I’m willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and head over to Walmart so that we can do it together.”

  “You are an unselfish, brave man, Mr. Boone.”

  Squire laughed as he slipped on his boots. “Don’t tell anyone. Besides, these ropers are fallin’ apart and I need some new ones. And I wouldn’t mind pickin’ up some more jeans. These are startin’ to fall off me.”

  Sarah studied her husband’s appearance. When you live with someone, seeing them day in and day out might cause you to miss noticeable changes in their weight, hair, etcetera. He had lost a lot of weight, and she inwardly chastised herself for not noticing.

  “Am I not feeding you enough?” she asked.

  Squire deflected. “I’ve been out in the orchards more, and with the heat I sweat a lot. I’ve tried to take in lots of water, but I guess I’m burning more calories, right?”

  Sarah seemed skeptical at her husband’s answer. “I tell you what, I’ll start fixin’ some things that will put some more meat on those bones. If something goes bad wrong, like Chapman seems to believe, we’ll be losing plenty of weight as it is. I’m just glad I saved all of my inspiration jeans from years ago. Wranglers never go out of style.”

  Squire reached for the front door handle, and he glanced back toward the television, which was showing more scenes of looting and civil unrest. He pointed toward the monitor. “That crap ain’t happenin’ up in Corydon, do you think?”

  Sarah shrugged and then raised her eyebrows. “You know what? We’re both licensed to carry. Let’s grab our paddle holsters and handguns. It might not be a bad idea.”

  “What are your friends at Walmart gonna say about that?” asked Squire sarcastically. “Remember, they asked shoppers not to open carry in their stores years ago.”

  Sarah opened the gun safe in the hallway and handed him his Beretta .45 caliber with its holster. She carried a Springfield Armory XD subcompact, also chambered in .45.

  “Here’s what I’ll tell that Walmart manager if he says anything,” she began. She gestured toward the television as she slid the holster in her waistband. “Askin’ ain’t tellin’, and if he questions my judgment, he can march his fanny back to those eighty-inch TVs mounted on the back wall and watch the news. Heck, he’ll be carryin’ too within five minutes of seeing that stuff.”

  Chapter 37

  Walmart

  Corydon, Indiana

  The married couple of forty years hopped in Sarah’s truck and made the twenty-five minute drive to Walmart without incident. Traffic was practically nonexistent on most nights in this rural part of Indiana, but it seemed especially so because so many residents had their eyes glued to their televisions. When they pulled into the Walmart parking lot, the numerous cars told a different story.

  “I guess all our neighbors had the same idea,” observed Squire as he slowly drove through, looking for a parking space.

  “No, not our neighbors,” said Sarah. “Look at the license plates. I see a lot of Ohio and Kentucky plates. Illinois, too. There are some from Missouri, West Virginia …” Her voice trailed off.

  “There are more out-of-towners than there are locals. They must be off I-64.”

  Interstate 64 ran east-west, beginning in St. Louis and terminating at the Virginia coast. Sarah pointed to the other side of the strip center, where the parking was less crowded.

  “I see the spots,” acknowledged Squire. “I guess folks aren’t eatin’ Japanese at Yamato’s tonight.”

  “I don’t mind the walk,” said Sarah. “As long as we can find a shopping buggy. I’ve never seen it like this.”

  The two braved the crowds, and what they found was nothing short of remarkable. The swarm of dragonflies that had appeared on the NWS weather radar Sarah said resembled locusts had nothing on the mass of humanity that apparently descended upon the Corydon Walmart Supercenter. It was madness inside as people pushed and shoved to put anything that was edible into their carts.

  “Tell me you don’t have food on the list,” begged Squire.

  “No food, thank goodness. I need to focus on cleaning supplies and personal hygiene, plus some clothes for you and the grandkids. I wanna buy things for them that they can grow into, you know? Just in case.”

  “Listen, I’m not gonna question anything you suggest. After what we’ve seen on the news, and now this, I wish we’d started thinkin’ like this years ago. We could’ve avoided this madn
ess.”

  As if on cue, two women began screaming at each other in the baby formula aisle. Their men got involved, and soon a fistfight broke out. Squire steered their shopping cart clear of the melee and helped Sarah load up cleaning supplies in a nearby aisle.

  “Okay, that’s good. Let’s hit the pharmacy area and pick up some first aid supplies as well as some over-the-counter medications.”

  “What about more ammo?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I forgot.”

  They went the long way to the pharmacy, picking up some jeans and clothing for the entire family before making their way through the sporting goods section. They bought the last of the rifle ammunition before the gun counter was closed. Their entire inventory had been wiped out with the Boone’s purchase.

  Sarah chuckled. “This is why I told Allen about what Chapman said. I hope he listened and kept plenty for himself.”

  They spun around as a loud crash could be heard from the back of the store as two kids attempted to pull down bicycles off the top rack of the display. The bike fell and the two teens quickly started to make their way out of the store through the automotive section. Sales personnel were screaming at them, but they just kept on going without hesitating.

  “You know what, Sarah, let’s pick up the pace. This whole situation makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Okay, I agree. This might’ve been a bad idea.”

  “No, good idea, unexpected complications. That’s all.”

  After loading all the medical supplies they could use, they checked out through the garden center, which was located nearest their truck. They made their way into the dark parking lot and pushed the cart down the sidewalk in front of a shuttered Papa John’s and other closed businesses.

  Sarah spoke softly. “This may sound crazy, but this might be the last time we go to a Walmart for a long time.”

  “It all depends on whether this grand plan of the president’s works out. Thanks to you, I feel like we’re better prepared than others. Now, we just need to get our kids home.”

  Sarah suddenly stopped the cart and stared ahead of them. She was wearing a button-down shirt over a white tee. She slowly slipped her hand down to grip her pistol. “Squire, heads up.”

  He immediately picked up on her concerned tone of voice. After what they’d experienced inside, he immediately raised his awareness of his surroundings. There was a group of men ahead, lurking in the shadows of the GameStop that had closed for the evening.

  “I see them. Let me push the cart. I wanna get out in the middle of the parking lot aisle.”

  Squire picked up the pace and pushed between two parked cars until they were out in the open. Sarah was close behind, eyeing the suspicious men.

  Her voice became excited. “Squire, they’re moving through the cars, too. I think they’re gonna block our way.”

  “You push the cart and be ready to draw on ’em,” he said as he pulled his own weapon and used a two-handed grip to point at the men as they appeared in front of their path to the truck.

  Without warning, two of them darted into the parking lot driveway to face Squire and Sarah.

  “Don’t move, asshole!” Squire shouted.

  “Whoa! Chill out, jefe!”

  “Where’s the other guy?” Squire yelled back.

  The response startled him. “What’s in the buggy, old man?”

  Squire spun around and saw the man emerge from the shadows between two pickup trucks. He also noticed that Sarah was gone.

  His eyes darted in all directions; he was immediately concerned that they’d done something to her. He shouted, with a hint of fear in his voice, “Back off or I’ll shoot!”

  The men started laughing. “You ain’t shootin’ nobody, jefe!”

  “He may not, but I sure will!” shouted Sarah, who’d circled behind the man who’d tried to ambush Squire from the side. “Hands up or you’re a dead man!”

  The man slowly raised his hands and revealed a knife.

  Sarah continued to take charge. “Drop the knife, too!”

  The man dropped the knife and she pushed him forward with her left hand, causing him to stumble into the driveway and land on his knees. She kicked the knife under the pickup and kept her weapon trained on the mugger. Meanwhile, Squire turned his attention to the man, allowing the other two to bolt into the night.

  “Come on, we didn’t mean nothin’.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Sarah.

  The man tried to protest, but his words were drowned out by the sounds of a siren. Soon, the blue lights of a Harrison County sheriff’s car illuminated the parking lot, creating a strobe-light effect.

  The doors of the Ford Explorer flung open, and one of the deputies used the patrol car’s public address system to give orders to Sarah and Squire.

  “Drop your weapons and raise your hands over your head!”

  Squire shouted back, “It’s not what you think! These men tried to rob us!”

  “Drop your weapons! I’m not gonna ask twice!”

  The other deputy stepped out of the patrol car and racked a round into his shotgun. The sound was unmistakable, and Squire immediately glanced at Sarah. She acknowledged that she’d heard it.

  She addressed the deputies. “My name is Sarah Boone, and this here is my husband, Squire. We’re going to holster our guns and raise our hands over our heads. We both have permits for these guns and were using them in self-defense.”

  “Slowly!” screamed the deputy.

  They complied, and within seconds after they’d completed the task, the deputies were on top of them with their weapons drawn. Soon thereafter, they were surrounded by Harrison County deputies and the sheriff, one Randall Clark, the older brother of Bully Billy the Banker.

  Chapter 38

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  Information leaks coming out of the White House had been a part of every administration’s headaches dating back to the Nixon years. Sometimes, they were used by a president’s aides as a way to shape the political narrative on a particular issue. In some cases, they were used by career staffers who vehemently disagreed with their new boss’s policies. Regardless, the New York Times article, followed by more in-depth reporting in the Washington Post, had created a media feeding frenzy that resulted in a rise in social unrest around the country.

  It also panicked Wall Street. Markets liked stability, and the thought of cutting off the nation’s energy supply was unfathomable. The grounding of all aircraft had been met with significant consternation from the entire world, but the thought of willfully cutting the power to a hundred thirty million homes and six million businesses was mind-blowing to most.

  The White House switchboard had to be taken off-line. A three-block perimeter around the White House was cordoned off, and the National Guard was hastily dispatched to keep the peace. Congressmen went into hiding and government buildings closed to the public as the nation’s ire was brought down upon anyone associated with the federal government.

  Despite the enormous political pressure brought down upon President Houston, he remained steadfast in his convictions. He instructed his press secretary to contact all the major media outlets and cable news networks to hastily arrange a televised address to the nation.

  Since the media leak to the Times, a significant amount of disinformation had been disseminated by opponents to the president’s black start plan. He needed to make his case to the nation, explaining how this preventative measure was designed to prevent the country from being thrown back into the nineteenth century.

  Short-term pain, long-term gain.

  Only, neither he, nor anyone else within the government, could accurately define the length of time the power would be down.

  What, exactly, does short-term look like? he’d asked his advisors, and the lack of response spoke volumes. There were shrugs. The looks of the proverbial deer in the headlights. Noncommittal utterances. In other words, he surmised, he was the guy who got paid the big bucks, and the
refore, as President Harry S. Truman once said, the buck stops here.

  Fine, thought President Houston as he allowed the makeup artist to provide some powder to his forehead to hide the perspiration that had plagued him for the past twenty-four hours. He’d already determined he would not be responsible for the collapse of America when the nation’s energy infrastructure could be protected for a hopefully brief period of time.

  Wasn’t the loss of modern inconveniences for several weeks better than losing them for many years, as predicted by FERC? He thought so, and in just a few minutes, he planned on making his case to the American people.

  There was another concern that weighed heavily on his mind—the collapse of the banking system. Once the word was out, the nation’s wealthiest investors made an unprecedented run on cash as economic fears rose.

  Market pundits immediately took to the airwaves after the New York Times’ story broke. Public equity markets crashed in after-hours trading. The New York Stock Exchange had already announced that it would remain closed until further notice as a result of the president’s anticipated announcement. That didn’t stop traders from inundating the foreign exchanges with sell orders.

  Major banks, which remained open until 6:00 p.m. that afternoon, found themselves calling the police to forcibly remove depositors from their lobbies. ATMs ran dry, tellers’ cash trays were emptied, and bank vaults looked like the liquor cabinet after a teenage party while the parents were away—bone dry and empty.

  The price of precious metals had skyrocketed tenfold as wealthy investors sought out alternative investments. Cash was converted to all forms of gold and silver, both in the form of certificates and physical coins.

  Retailers began to feel the pinch as well. Consumers were so hungry for cash, they made small purchases like a bar of candy and requested a hundred dollars cash back on their debit cards. If the store restricted the amount of cash back, the consumers took what they could get. In a matter of hours Fiserv, the largest credit card processor in the U.S., suffered a major collapse of its servers. This set off internet rumors that the banks were insolvent, and soon retailers were demanding cash payments for their goods.