After the Pulse

By Kim Jewell

SHEP ADAMS is miles from home when a mysterious electromagnetic pulse suddenly wipes out the electrical grid. The phones are dead. All the computers are down. Planes fall out of the sky. Cars skid to a halt. Life support switches off. The country is, effectively, stopped dead in its tracks.

People are dying too. Or rather, they are killing one another. Brutally.

The pulse doesn’t just affect inanimate objects; it affects the electrical circuitry of people too. Large portions of the population go completely insane, fighting and killing anyone they can reach. Others are rendered vacant, in a coma-like state, eventually rotting quietly from within. Others look normal from the outside but the pulse has stripped away their humanity, leaving them devoid of compassion. These might just be the most dangerous of all...

Shep, along with his father, sister and sister’s friend Zoe, must work their way home. But what is waiting, back at their remote cattle farm? Are the rest of their family alive, dead or, even worse, turned into the living dead? What has happened to their close-knit rural community?

Can Shep and his family save their family farm? Can they and their neighbors survive in a world where lack of power presents a challenge greater than they could imagine? The threat from the ‘crazies’ is bad enough but the madness seems to have switched to the animal world too. However the greatest danger may lie in the craziness that can’t be seen.

After the Pulse is a story about survival; about strength in family and community. It looks at our fateful dependency on modern technology and our helplessness when that technology fails.

If the grid went down tomorrow, would you cope? Could you go back to basics? Could you learn to live off the earth? In the face of terrifying danger, would you unite for protection, sustenance and to maintain some semblance of civilization? Or would you kill your neighbor?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kim Jewell
• Release date: Apr 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476350875

Kim Jewell

I’m a marketing executive and have worked in advertising, marketing and public relations for over fifteen years now – both at the corporate level and also in the agency arena. It has always been a goal of mine to take my writing skills from press releases and ad copy to another level – novel work. My first novel, Invisible Justice, was inspired by a dream in early 2009 and was completed that summer. Brute Justice is the second book in this YA series. Likened by readers to X-Men and Heroes, the Justice series is a contemporary take on teenage super heroes.After a bit of prodding, I took a break from the Justice series to start a darker young adult novel entitled Misery’s Fire, a storyline my husband dreamt one night and passed along to me. Misery’s Fire is a crime thriller detailing the life and death of Grant Williams and his subsequent experience in the afterworld. When his demon caseworker, Angelo, couldn’t break his spirit, he exacted his revenge by sending Grant back to the fiery pits of high school. He finds himself in a new – and much younger body – with nothing but a backpack and a school uniform. Grant must learn to survive not only life on his own, but also the horrors of high school – cliques and chicks included.The storyline covers some heavy topics for teens – gangs, drugs, bullying, violence and death. While the topics are dark, the story is delivered with a sarcastic wit that creates a lighter tone and allows the reader to emotionally connect with the main character, despite his transgressions.My day job... I am the Director of Development for a regional law firm in Indiana where I oversee the business development and marketing campaigns. My responsibilities include managing the public relations efforts, corporate identity, web site, advertising and external communications, client entertainment and special events, contributions and sponsorships, and market research for our firm’s six offices.For more information on me and my work, visit my website – www.kimjewell.wordpress.comFollow me on Twitter - @kimjewellAgents or interested readers can contact me directly through my email: [e-mail]

Book preview

After the Pulse

by

Kim Jewell

Copyright 2012, Kim Jewell

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is accidental.

Dedication

To my brother, Chad.

Looking back on all the time we spent at Lipsett Lake… Many of my favorite childhood memories involve getting into some kind of trouble there with you.

I miss you.

Chapter One

It started as a buzz. Just a faint humming sound. I never sleep well in strange places, so wasn’t at all surprised to find my eyes open at the whisper hiss.

What startled me was the scene. Where was I? In the dark I could make out two large platforms looming overhead, pressing in on me. I threw both arms out to touch them and felt the polyester quilted fabric of hotel bedspreads. Oh, right. We were in Milwaukee, at my sister’s softball tournament. The platforms were beds, and since I drew the short stick, mine was on the floor in between.

As I listened, the whirring continued to get progressively louder. I sat up to try and figure out where it was coming from. A static-like crackle filled the air and I looked toward the window where an iridescent light flickered through the opening in the curtains, throwing shadows against the wall. The floor beneath my butt vibrated.

Pop. Darkness.

At first I thought I had gone deaf, the silence was so absolute. Between that and my lack of sight, I felt lost, like I had disappeared. Fallen into a black hole. Gone from the earth. Panic snaked its way up the back of my neck, forming a cold sweat. I moved my legs to kneel and heard the rustling of my blanket.

Dad?

Snore, snort, cough. He was sleeping, out cold.

Dad, I said a little louder, reaching out to feel for him.

He sputtered, clearing his throat. What? What is it, bud?

I think something’s wrong.

I heard him sit up, but in the blackness, I couldn’t even make out his figure. What time is it? he asked groggily.

I don’t know. I think the electricity went out.

Hang on. He fumbled behind me, searching the nightstand with his hand and grabbed something. He grunted. That’s weird. My iPhone’s not working. I’m sure I charged it last night.

More fumbling, a rattling of various objects on the nightstand. A warm, orange flame lit from the end of Dad’s ancient Zippo; a hand-me-down from his grandfather. He didn’t even smoke. I was never sure why he carried it around with him every day, but it was always a staple in his pocket – along with his wallet and keys.

With the room now dimly visible, I was brave enough to walk over to the window. I peeked through the curtains to find nothing. Nothing but an impenetrable blackness. Our room overlooked the pool, which was normally lit with landscape lighting. I knew this because I spent fifteen minutes last night spying on some of the other female athletes staying in the same hotel. But now the hotel’s yard was pitch black, as was the restaurant directly behind it.

Go back to sleep Shep, Dad said and he flipped the lighter shut, leaving us in darkness again. I heard him roll back over. I’m sure it will be back on in the morning.

I fumbled my way back to my makeshift bed, trying not to wake the two sleeping girls in the other bed. My head hit the pillow, and I tossed and turned for probably fifteen minutes, listening to the silence.

I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, or how long I slept, but I sat straight up at the first scream. It pierced the air so clearly, it sounded like it was in the same room.

But it wasn’t just screaming. At first it was one voice, a solitary person in pain or fear. It sounded almost like the desperate cry of a wounded animal, cornered, clinging to life but knowing the end was near. Then it was two voices, three, and then the cries multiplied into a chorus of shrieks. The sound seemed to move, oscillate around us, as some mouths paused to gulp in fresh lungs of air, others would shatter the quiet to replace the wailing. It was a constant hammering of sensory overload.

The screeching cry of a fox in heat, that’s what it sounded like. Insane animals surrounding our room from every angle. The explosion of voices had everyone in the room sitting straight up, alert. Dad’s Zippo fired up again, and when I glanced over to my sister’s side of the room, the fear on the faces of Liz and her friend was clear. Even in the dark.

Daddy? she whispered. What’s going on?

Liz never called my father Daddy unless she was upset, which happened very rarely. My sister’s strong, just like my mother. Bold, confident, capable. I don’t think I’ve seen her scared since she was six years old and stranded about twenty feet up in a giant oak tree on our farm.

But now she sat cowering next to Zoe, both of them startled awake by the noise.

I went back to the window. Nothing. Blackness. So I walked to the door, the one leading to the hallway, and peered through the peep hole. Flashes of orange and yellow sped by, faces lit, teeth bared. Fire.

Thump. Crack. I jumped away from the door when I heard the reverberation on the other side. Thump-thump-thwack.

A cackle sounded from the hallway just outside, followed by a screeching voice, mostly unintelligible. Eeenybuddeee hoooome? It was garbled, almost as if whoever spoke had a mouthful of food. Or blood.

I put my eye back to the door for another peek. A dirty face, bloodshot eyeball, distorted by the glass hole, blinked back at me. The doorknob rattled and I took three quick hops back, running smack into my father.

Who was it? he asked.

I don’t know, I whispered back. I couldn’t make out the face. He was carrying a torch. He didn’t look, um… friendly.

A torch?

They’ve all got them, whoever is running the halls. Do you think they cut the power?

I don’t know, son.

The screaming flooded the halls, accompanied by the sounds of pounding feet on the floor and fists banging against the doors and walls. We stood there, stone still, until eventually it began to fade. It was almost as if the ruckus was moving away.

I walked over to the window again to look outside. People were pouring out of the main floor, trampling each other in their haste to escape. Bodies were being shoved into the pool, the sound of splashing being added to the chorus of chaos. Although dawn was starting to show signs of orange-gray light in the distance, my best sense of what was happening came from my ears.

Okay guys, Dad’s voice cut through the air, making us all jump. Everybody get dressed, get your things together as quickly as you can.

Wait, no, I argued. Don’t you think we should stay put? We’re safe in here, and maybe someone from the hotel will come by to let us know what is going on.

What if they come back? he countered. Look, it’s quiet again, at least for now. We need to get moving, get away from here and whatever this is. We’ll stop by the front desk on our way to see if anyone here knows what just happened.

Daddy, I can’t see anything. Liz had a tremor in her voice as she flicked the lamp on and off, on and off, in a futile effort to light the room. I heard her shuffle her feet toward me and reach for the curtains.

No! Liz, don’t, I shouted, grabbing her arm. I realized too late how loud I was and hoped I didn’t alert anyone to our location.

Why not? she asked, almost silently.

I lowered my voice as well. They can’t know we’re in here.

Who? Who are they?

I don’t know, but they’re dangerous. Listen…

She leaned toward the window. The screeching was all but gone, replaced by what sounded like moans and whimpers. Injured people, left behind. Probably to die.

Just listen to Dad. Get your stuff together, I said and shut the curtains securely. The room filled with muffled sounds of feet shuffling and hands fumbling, trying to find clothes, bags, shoes. I looked up at Zoe, Liz’s teammate who had come with us on our trip. I had forgotten about her. She hadn’t spoken a word. I suddenly understood that not only were we – my family – in apparent danger, but we also had to protect another teenage girl as well. The realization weighed down on me, my shoulders literally sagged.

Dad must have had the same thought. Zoe? You okay?

She nodded, but only slightly. Yeah. What’s going on, Mr. Adams?

I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s good. We need to get out of here.

It took us about ten minutes to get our bags packed. By the time everyone was dressed and ready to go, the sun was finally coming up and peeking through the shades. Still no electricity. Already Dad had tried to call my mom. We all had, unsuccessfully. None of our cell phones worked. Panicked and out of a moment of sheer frustration, I even picked up the land line in the hotel room. It was dead as well.

I picked up my duffel, and as a last ditch effort to check what was happening, I walked quickly to the window. It was our only real look into the outside world. I slid the curtain open just a little to see the grounds now that daylight had finally surfaced. What I saw was beyond any carnage I could have ever imagined.

The pool, once crystal blue and filled with lively guests, was now crimson liquid and still. The only sign of life, or lack thereof, was the five bodies floating face down around the perimeter. Blood trailed in smears and spatters along the concrete and patio furniture, and more corpses lay lifeless, strewn along the lot.

The restaurant across the parking lot was ablaze on one end, and I could see looters darting in and out, taking whatever they could carry from the building. Some seemed to be working in groups of three or four, never more than five. Every once in a while you’d see one drop a package and run after another with a knife or makeshift club.

Shep, what do you see? I was awakened from my trance at the sound of my father’s voice. He came up behind me to peer through the curtains and I heard him suck in a quick breath of air when he saw what I was looking at.

Nothing, Dad. Nothing. I desperately hoped he’d understand my subliminal message – don’t alert the girls to this.

Although my sister is just a year younger, at fifteen she’s really fairly smart and grounded. Her friend Zoe, on the other hand, has a tendency for drama. The last thing I wanted was to have to drag a frantic girl out of here with us. We needed to keep our wits about us.

He put his hand on my shoulder and closed the curtains with his other. Let’s see if we can get to the car.

I nodded and picked my bag up from the floor where I had dropped it in shock. Keep the girls between us, I said, though I figured he already knew that.

The hallway was dark, except for the natural light filtering in through the windows at each end of the building. The long shadows left a menacing view of what was left of the once beautifully-decorated walls. Broken pictures and shards of glass littered the carpet. Deep gashes and dark stains marred the drywall. I couldn’t tell if it was mud splatters or blood. The thick scent of iron in the air led me to assume it was blood.

We hurried past the elevator bay and straight to the staircase at the end of the hall. The stairwell was bright with sunlight, which gave Liz and Zoe their first glimpse of what we were running from. I heard my sister gasp as she took in the carnage.

Dismembered body parts were strewn across the stairs and each landing below us. It wasn’t just arms, legs, hands, feet – like you see in slasher movies… It was ragged chunks of flesh, almost as if they had been shredded from the body. Dead or alive? I couldn’t possibly tell, but there was enough blood pooled up on the floor, I knew many of these people had bled to death in agony. The white industrial tile on the floor was now flooded with thick, scarlet pools of liquid.

Daddy? my sister whispered as she clung to him. Her teeth were chattering from shock. Who did this?

I don’t know, Lizzie, but we’re going to get out of here as fast as we can.

Shep, did you see them? she asked me. When you looked out the door?

Barely. It was dark, and I couldn’t see much. I decided to leave it at that.

Our room was on the ninth floor, so our trek down to the main level was long. Add to that the slippery conditions of the floor, and we were struggling to stay on our feet.

Dad was leading the line of us and I could see him kicking debris out of our path to clear a way for us to walk. Liz was right behind him, one hand clinging to the back of his belt, the other gripping the handrail.

Blood was not something new to my family. We live on about two hundred acres of land in rural Wisconsin. Dad operates a modest-sized cattle business, trading in both dairy and beef. Between helping him around the farm and butcher shop, and hunting and fishing in the woods, we’ve seen our share of life and death, blood and flesh – but never in the sense of human carnage.

Zoe, however, lived in town. I watched her shiver ahead of me, clinging to the stair railing with both her hands, shuffling her feet slowly without raising them. The rubber treads of her running shoes slid easily along the slick of the wet floor. Every so often she would make a whimper which sounded like half-hiccup, half-sob. Other than that, the place was silent.

I watched as, almost in slow-motion, her feet began to slide out from underneath her. Her knees buckled, and instinctively I reached forward with my free arm and wrapped it around her slim waist, pinning her weight solidly between me and the railing. She caught her balance and righted herself quickly.

You okay? I asked.

She just nodded. And hiccupped.

We kept moving forward, inch by slippery inch, trying to keep pace with Dad who was determined to get us out of here.

I kept my hand firmly on Zoe’s right hip, helping support her as best I could. A guttural moan escaped her lips and I looked down to see the vacant eyes of a bodiless head lying in the corner of the landing on the seventh floor. My stomach churned.

Keep your eyes on the railing, I whispered, after catching my breath. Don’t look down.

Don’t look down… Wasn’t that always the advice they gave? In any other circumstance, I might have found this funny, that I’d be giving this clichéd advice. But I was having a hard time finding any humor in this catastrophe.

Zoe stopped abruptly, causing me to run into the back of her. We both stumbled, gripping fiercely to keep our feet under us.

What? Zoe, what is it? I wondered if her terror had taken over, and she was finally shutting down.

She nodded her head towards the wall, signaling an emergency case with a fire hose coiled inside. I didn’t get it at first, and since she still wasn’t talking, I had no clue what she meant. She hiccupped again and her shaky fingers reached to open the door.

That’s when I saw what had caught her eye. Tucked inside the hinge was the red handle of a fireman’s axe. She grabbed it and handed it to me, and for the first time since I had known her, I saw a glint of fire light up in her green eyes.

I gripped the axe under the blade. I can’t carry this and you, too. Do you think you could follow me, hold onto the back of my jeans for stability?

She nodded and let me take the lead.

Let me know if you hear anything behind you, I said. But the only sound to be heard was the sloshing of liquid seeping out of the holes in our tennis shoes each time we took a step.

Chapter Two

While it felt like hours, it probably took us no more than twenty minutes to scramble and slide our way down the corridor of stairs. When we finally caught up with them, Dad and Liz were spying through the rectangular window in the security door, assessing the damage to the lobby.

What are we looking at, Dad? I asked. Is there anyone in there?

None alive, as far as I can tell, he answered grimly.

Which way to the parking garage?

Through the door and to the right.

I gripped the handle and pushed the door open as gently as I could. Stick close, I said and felt my sister’s hand wrap around my elbow. She was going to leave bruises, her grip was so tight.

It felt good to have my feet back on carpet. My tennis shoes gripped the floor, allowing my aching muscles to relax a bit from the constant strain of trying to keep balance on the slick tile of the stairs.

I looked around the corner to see if I could see anyone. The massive lobby was eerily quiet, almost a false sense of still. I snaked the line of us against the wall and toward the exit marked PARKING.

Along the way, we passed the giant check-in counter, trimmed in white marble and brass detailing. The first thing I noticed was all the computer monitors smoking, almost as if they’d been singed. The second, and more disturbing, sight was the clerk sitting against the back wall. Her left leg was twisted underneath her at an impossibly awkward angle. Her fingers twitched rapidly in her lap, and I could see her chest rise and fall. She was breathing.

I knew she was alive, and other than the apparent injury to her leg, I could see no blood or other signs of distress. What startled me, though, was the vacant expression on her face. There was no emotion, no signs of life or recognition.

Ma’am? I heard Liz say from behind me. I jumped at the sound, my head whipping around to see if anyone heard her.

Psst, ma’am?! she continued in a hissing whisper.

I looked to see if the clerk responded to the call. She didn’t even flinch. Well, other than the constant flickering of her fingers, drumming out a beat known only to her.

I turned as I felt her grip loosen on my arm. She was stepping towards the lady, obviously wanting to help her.

Liz! I warned. No. Let her be. We’ve got to get out of here!

We need to help her…

Shep’s right, honey, Dad agreed, nodding his head violently toward the door. Let’s get out of here. We’ll get to a phone, call 9-1-1 and send help back here. We can’t do anything right now, and it’s not safe to be here.

But what about the others? My teammates are here, and their families, she begged.

Lizzie, we’ll send help. Dad’s voice was quiet, but still very strained. But right now, it’s not safe for us to be here. Trust me, we have to go.

Zoe was already pulling Liz back and towards the exit. I grabbed her other hand and helped push her to the parking garage entrance, which was cold and quiet, except for the occasional flutter of a nearby pigeon. Even though the sound was familiar, it still made us all jump each time we heard another one.

Which level are we parked on, Dad?

Four. That meant four floors down, as the garage was underground.

I opened the door to the stairwell, which was completely encased in concrete. I knew once we closed the door behind us, we’d be shut off from any light source. Instantly my body went cold with the fear of claustrophobia. I turned back and looked over the girls’ heads to meet Dad’s eyes. He knew the problem before I said anything out loud.

The screeching started again, this time coming from somewhere on the garage’s surface level behind my dad.

Quick, son! We’ve got to take the stairs. Get a good grip on the railing while you can still see it. I’ll lead the way. His Zippo was our only source of light. I was starting to appreciate the family heirloom.

We raced as fast as we could. We didn’t even worry about the clomping our feet made, or whether anyone would hear it. At this point, all we wanted was what little security a metal car with locks could offer us. That, and the ability to move out of here, and fast.

The more we descended, the farther away the screaming got. I knew we were putting distance between us and the crazies, but I also felt like we were burying ourselves in the ground. A concrete tomb, one we couldn’t see anything in. I also knew we’d probably have to drive back up