Emerging Chaos: EMP Disaster, #1

By Grace Hamilton

No power. No lights. A world in chaos…

 

When a Coronal Mass Ejection causes an EMP catastrophe that shuts down power worldwide, Melanie Pearson must embark on a dangerous journey to reunite with her husband and daughter. But to earn a spot in a secure fortress along the way, she agrees to help her boss find his own son first. And it quickly becomes clear she may have made a deal with the devil himself…

 

Meanwhile, her husband Mark vows to do whatever he can to protect their daughter Shona. There's no way to turn the power back on, and their home town of Knoxville is quickly descending into chaos. His only goal is to find a way to get his family to safety.

 

As they struggle to come together, this fractured family must face off against a society gone mad. And when even greater tragedy strikes, they will need to find a new way to survive. But what is the cost of survival in a world on the brink of collapse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Relay Publishing
• Release date: Aug 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223458449

Book preview

1

His voice always preceded him, like the storm surge of a hurricane, a deep rumbling sound that hit just the right resonance to carry all the way down the hall and into the break room. Melanie Pearson was grateful for this. It meant she had time to brace herself for his arrival. And when Hurricane Derrick entered a room, it always brought trouble. Fortunately, it was a long walk from his big upstairs office at the back of the building to the break room where they’d had the Christmas party, and she’d left the door open.

Sounds like a storm’s brewing, Lizzy said. Currently, Melanie’s best friend was on her hands and knees, an open trash bag on the ground beside her. Melanie heard the soft clatter of plastic cups, as her friend dug party residue out from under the table.

What does he possibly have to complain about now? Melanie grumbled. She had a plastic grocery store bag in her left hand, and as she worked her way down the long counter, she picked up debris and tossed it into the bag. We volunteered to clean up after the party on our own time.

Well, he didn’t have to have the party in the first place, let’s not forget, Lizzy said, imitating Derrick’s voice as she strained to reach a corner where someone had dropped a paper plate with globs of red and green cake frosting still on it. He’s just keeping the Platt family tradition alive.

Not without making sure we all know he resents it, Melanie added.

The break room at Beaton’s Food Factory was a big, dingy space with ugly gray carpet that was frayed in spots, a big plastic table in the middle, a chipped counter, and a bulletin board covered in outdated information. Still, the employees had made a valiant effort to spruce up the place for the Christmas party. Red and green curled streamers hung down from the drop ceiling, a small Christmas tree stood at an angle in the corner, drooping with mismatched ornaments, and there’d been plenty to eat and drink, some of it halfway delicious.

Derrick’s voice had stopped somewhere down the hall, diverting into one of the offices along the way, where the boss seemed to be chewing someone out about deadlines. Good. Maybe he would forget about them long enough that they could finish cleaning and get out of there. Indeed, Melanie heard said office door close, the boss’s voice becoming muffled. Poor soul. Someone was really getting it now.

Let’s pick up the pace, Lizzy said. She was done under the table and folding up the stained paper tablecloths now. There’s still time to get away without seeing his face again.

But Melanie was trying to scrub away the dried residue of a sloppy casserole. These people are such pigs, she said. How do you get this much of a dish onto the counter? Was it intentional?

Was it the ham and cheese casserole? Lizzy asked. The one Helen made. It was pretty good.

I can’t tell, Melanie replied. It dried like concrete, though. She had to set down the rag and use the side of a metal fork to get some of it up. Even then, it was like chipping away old paint, and in the process, she left a small but notable scratch on the plastic countertop. Not that anyone would notice. She swept the crumbs into the bag, then turned to head back the other way.

When she did, she was startled by the person standing in the open doorway, totally silent and suddenly there. She hadn’t heard him approach. Nathan Platt, the boss’s son, was a gawky teen, awkward in his own body. He was wearing an oversized, faded t-shirt covered in comic book characters, and his pants were a bit too short, showing off his mismatched socks. His black hair mostly stuck straight up in a big, crooked poof, which accentuated a long, lean face, a somewhat prominent nose, and pointy chin.

Still, despite his awkward appearance, Nathan couldn’t have been more different from his father. At first, he was staring up at the streamers, which were dancing in the current from the air conditioner. However, he seemed to realize Melanie was looking at him after a couple of seconds, and he turned and gave her a big, earnest smile.

I could…I could help clean, if you want, he said.

"Are you actually offering to clean? Lizzy said. Do teens do that?"

Yeah, it’s kind of boring out there, he said. I don’t have anything else to do.

Melanie beckoned him, and he came trotting toward her. She held out the damp rag. If you wouldn’t mind, finish wiping down the counter for me. I’m going to work on removing the streamers.

He took the rag from her like she’d offered him a new toy for Christmas. What do I do? Is there a trick to it?

No, just wipe in big circles until the whole counter is clean, she said. Can you do that?

Of course. Whatever you say. He went to work, bent over the counter with a serious expression on his face. Again, Melanie marveled that this was Derrick’s kid.

She went to retrieve a small stepladder from the corner and used it to begin pulling the colored streamers down from the ceiling.

So tell me, Nathan, she said, as she reached up to grab the torn end of a loose green streamer. Are you looking forward to Christmas?

He paused in his work for a second, staring at the wall, and his serious expression seemed to dissolve into something sad. I don’t know. I guess I should be. It’s a break from school, so that’s something. And then he went back to his work.

Does your family have plans? Melanie asked. She wadded up the streamer and stuffed it into the bag. A big dinner maybe?

Probably, he said. Or maybe just takeout of some kind, if any restaurants are open. He glanced at her and attempted a smile. She could tell he was really struggling to make it stick.

For Melanie, it all hit a little close to home. Maybe home life wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. She tried to think of some other subject, anything to keep him engaged. Working in silence was uncomfortable. Lizzy was sweeping up crumbs from the table and filled in the conversation.

What about Christmas presents? she asked. Every kid looks forward to presents. What are you hoping for? I don’t even know what fifteen-year-olds are into these days. Some app I’ve never heard of, probably, but you can’t put an app under the tree. Or maybe you can. I don’t know.

I don’t care about presents, really, Nathan said, and Melanie noted he was slinging the rag just a little too hard onto the countertop. I don’t want anything, to be honest. I mean, whatever…

He bent over the sink, frowning deeply. An innocent attempt to engage him in conversation had clearly gone awry.

Okay, I’ll be honest. I’m not looking forward to Christmas at all, he said, as he resumed wiping a part of the counter that had already been thoroughly cleaned. It’s going to be super uncomfortable. Mom and Dad got into a huge fight about some dumb thing Dad is doing, and everything is uncomfortable right now. I wish I had somewhere else to go over the break—school or camp or just about anywhere else.

I’m sorry to hear that, Melanie said. Do we need to…? She was going to offer to change the subject, but she became aware then of the imposing form filling the doorway.

Somehow, Derrick Platt had managed to approach the end of the hallway without being heard, which was a rarity. He stood there now in his short-sleeved shirt and red tie, his thumbs hooked under his black leather belt. He was tall like his son, but that was where the similarities ended. With his jowly face, thick neck, and watery eyes, he looked a bit like a human-bulldog hybrid. A beer gut strained at the buttons of his shirt and hung over the top of a shiny brass belt buckle. His hair was slicked back with too much product, shiny and greasy in equal measure, which made his big ears seem even more prominent.

When he frowned, as he did now, creases ran from the corners of his mouth, framing his little bump of a chin. Why don’t you ladies leave my boy alone and get back to work? he said, in that rumbly voice of his.

We never stopped working, Lizzy pointed out. Melanie’s best friend was dwarfed beside the boss. Small, thin, with blondish hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she had a round face, bright blue eyes, and was prone to easy smiles. Look at this. She held up the big bag of trash in her right hand.

I’m just helping out so the work will get done faster, Nathan said. Nobody forced me to do anything.

Yeah, well, this is not your job, Derrick replied. Why don’t you go back upstairs to my office and play a video game or something?

I played plenty of video games, Nathan replied, bending over his work even more intensely. I’ve got my phone with me, but it gets boring after a while just being up there by myself.

He’s not hurting anything, Lizzy said.

"I didn’t say he was, Derrick replied, but I want him to stay out of the way. Nathan, get back upstairs. Now." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Why does it matter? Nathan replied. I’m not bothering anybody.

"You’re bothering me. Get upstairs. Now!" Derrick barked the final word. It hit just the right note to make Melanie’s ears hurt.

Nathan screwed up his face in a hateful scowl and flung the dirty rag into the sink. Fine, Dad. Whatever! I’m actually doing something productive, but I’ll just go back up there and sit and do nothing.

The poor kid seemed on the verge of tears, but Derrick was unmoved. He stepped to one side and motioned his son through the door. Nathan, his lower lip jutting out so far he could have tripped on it, stormed across the room and passed through the door without looking at his father. When he was gone, Derrick stepped back into the doorway and shook his head, as if to say, Kids these days.

Do me a favor and don’t humor him, Derrick said to Melanie and Lizzy, giving them a stern gaze. He knows he’s not supposed to be wandering around the building.

Whatever you say, Melanie replied, then ripped down another streamer and jammed it into the bag. Just go away and let us finish up. Oh, how badly she wanted to say it, but she bit her tongue.

All right then, Derrick said. Finish up in here. This is taking too long.

And with that, he sniffed loudly, turned, and left, his footfalls heavy as he worked his way back down the hall. The whole thing put Melanie in a foul mood. A kid dreading Christmas, not looking forward to presents, not wanting to go home. Oh, yes, she could relate to it all, and it sent her into a dark place. Lizzy must have noticed, because she rose suddenly and snapped her fingers.

Chop, chop, Mel, she said. You heard the high overlord. Let’s get this done. You’re spacing out.

Sorry, Melanie replied. She stepped down from the ladder and moved it over a few feet. Our boss is such a jerk.

Yeah, maybe we should check on the kid before we leave the office today, Lizzy said, tying the trash bag shut. Just to make sure he’s okay.

Definitely, Melanie said, as she pulled down the last streamer. She turned to survey their handiwork. The room was mostly clean. They’d managed to fill an entire thirty-gallon trash bag and two smaller grocery bags with the detritus of the Christmas party. "Looks like we’re about done here. What do you say?’

I say, let’s get the heck out of Beaton’s and go home, Lizzy replied.

And then, as if the building had heard and wanted to acknowledge her words, the lights went out. Suddenly, the break room was plunged into darkness. Melanie heard voices from down the hall reacting to the sudden darkness. The air conditioner wound down and came to a stop, and then everything went utterly still.

Well, that’s weird, Lizzy muttered. Did we forget to pay the electric bill?

"There’s not an actual storm brewing outside, is there?" Melanie asked. The closest window was through an open doorway in the reception area, and she could see sunlight shining on the wall. It wasn’t a cloudy day.

Just then, a harsh alarm began to blare throughout the building, as the backup generator kicked in. Security lights in the hallway awoke, casting red light over the walls and floor. They were meant to guide people out of the building in case of an emergency. Melanie felt the first flutter of unease.

What the heck is going on? she muttered.

She heard a low rumbling sound then. It trembled in the floor beneath her feet. It continued for a few seconds, then ended in a loud, low clank, as of metal hitting metal.

I’m pretty sure those were the automated fire doors, Lizzy said. You know they close and lock in an emergency, right?

The alarm was still squawking, making it hard to hear Lizzy. Melanie set the small bag of trash down on the table.

Could there be a fire on the factory floor? she wondered.

I don’t smell burning snack cakes, so I’m guessing no, Lizzy said. Believe me, with my asthma, I’m real sensitive to smoke.

Melanie looked down the hallway. People were poking their heads out of doors, but the harsh red light made it all look ominous. Derrick appeared at the end of the hallway, glaring at everyone in sight, as if every worker were personally to blame for the problem. He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and began to shout loud enough to be heard over the alarm. With the timbre of his voice, this didn’t seem to take much effort.

Ladies and gentlemen, everyone sit tight, he trumpeted. We’ve had a bit of a power outage here, but we’ll get it all sorted out. Just finish up whatever you were working on. There’s no reason to panic.

A white-haired gentleman in overalls stepped out into the hallway. Is power out in the whole area, or is it just us? Stan Lipton was a shipping manager, and also had a more contentious and prickly relationship with the boss than most people—quite an accomplishment.

Just finish up whatever you were working on, Stan, Derrick said. The problem will sort itself out soon enough.

So you don’t know, or you’re not going to tell us? Stan replied.

Stan, this isn’t question and answer time. Get back to work. I’ll figure out how to shut off this damned alarm. And with that, Derrick turned and disappeared around the corner.

Stan glared after him for a second, then harrumphed loudly and went back into his office.

If we’d finished cleaning a minute faster, we’d already be out of here, Melanie grumbled. She’d left her purse on a shelf, and she went to retrieve it now. It was a small denim handbag, practically an antique, a birthday present she’d gotten from Lizzy’s mother when she was a teenager. Somehow, she’d held on to the thing all these years, and even when she bought new purses, she always went back to it. Her phone was tucked into a small pocket on the side.

Blame the slobs who trashed the break room, Lizzy said.

Melanie picked up the purse and pulled out her phone, intending to call home. Mark would at least be able to tell her whether this was a local problem or not. The factory was located almost thirty miles northwest of Knoxville. If the power was out at home, then it meant this was a widespread problem.

She unlocked the screen on her phone and held it up. One bar. That in itself was odd. She usually got a pretty strong signal on this end of the building. Melanie moved closer to the hallway and held up the phone, trying to get a second bar, but nothing changed.

Finally, she called her husband’s cell phone number. She held the phone to her ear and waited for it to ring, but instead, the phone made no sound at all for a few seconds, then the call dropped. She tried again and got the same result.

Okay, Lizzy, this is getting weird, she said, dialing his number a third time.

Oh, it wasn’t weird already? Lizzy replied.

My phone is acting up. When the third call was dropped, she decided to send Mark a text.

Power’s out here. How are things at home?

She sent it, then waited a few seconds for the checkmark to appear that would indicate it had been received, but it never appeared. After a moment, she got a little red exclamation point instead. She tried to send the text again and got the same result.

Hey, Liz, can I borrow your phone for a second? she said.

Lizzy reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her phone, holding it up. It’s dead, she said. The battery ran out during the party. I guess I filmed too many karaoke songs. Sorry. But I’ve got a charger out in my car.

The flutter in Melanie’s belly became the first real stirrings of panic. Something about this whole situation was very wrong. This had to be more than just a power outage. Melanie jammed her phone back into its pocket, tucked her purse under her arm, and headed for the door.

Where are you going? Lizzy asked.

To talk to Derrick, she replied.

She strode down the hall. A few people were still staring out of their office doors, and when Melanie passed by, they fell in behind her, as if she had emboldened them. By the time she approached the end of the hall, she had half a dozen people following along behind her, including a grumbling Stan Lipton.

Around the corner, the hallway ran toward the far end of the building, but a set of stairs on the right led up to the second floor, where Derrick’s office was located. A window at the top of the stairs let late afternoon sunlight pour down into the building, cutting through the harsh red emergency lights.

About halfway down the hall, a second corridor branched off to the left. Normally, those doors gave access to the factory floor, but at the moment, a solid fire door had slammed down into place and blocked the way.

I hope you’re going to give him a piece of your mind, Stan Lipton said. Nobody can work under these conditions. I’m getting a headache.

Melanie glanced over her shoulder and saw that Stan and the others had fallen a few steps behind. So much for putting up a united front. She mounted the stairs. Halfway up, the harsh blaring of the alarm finally died, but the ugly red light kept shining. Derrick’s office was the first door at the top. It was open, and she could see the cluttered space beyond. He had the largest office in the building, but he’d managed to cover every shelf, counter, and square inch of desk space with stacks of manila folders, receipts, invoices, and other assorted paperwork. Nestled within the stacks on his desk was a keyboard and computer monitor.

As she stepped through the door, Derrick was peeking through the dusty curtains on a window behind his desk. Melanie expected to see Nathan somewhere in the room, but he wasn’t there. When the boss didn’t notice her arrival, Melanie loudly cleared her throat. This startled him, and he spun around, flinging the curtain back in place.

What’s wrong with you? he snarled. Don’t you have more work to do? If you want information about this power outage, save your breath. I don’t know any more than you do.

It was dim and gloomy in the office, most of the light coming from the hallway and not quite reaching every wall.

Hey, boss, if this power outage is widespread, then we need to leave, she said. We have families to look after.

What, your family can’t handle a power outage? he replied. He pulled his desk chair back and sat down, the padded faux-leather seat creaking under his weight. I need you to finish up here before you go.

We’re off the clock, she reminded him. Lizzy and I offered to clean up after the party on our own time.

Fine, then, put yourself back on the clock, he said, with a flip of his hand. I guess money speaks louder than company loyalty for some people. I have one more job for you and your little sidekick, and then you can go. Take all of the extra stuff from the party—plates, cups, silverware, booze, whatever—and haul it down to the office supply closet. Get that done, and you can go.

She knew him well enough to be annoyed by his request. It wasn’t a big job, but he was ordering it just so she would leave on his terms and not her own. That was his way. She was tempted to fight him on the issue, but what would that accomplish?

Okay, she said, after a moment. She turned and headed back downstairs. Stan and a few others were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, huddled together. She shrugged as she approached them.

He doesn’t know anything? Stan said.

Melanie shook her head, and the group scattered back to their offices, disappointed. Melanie was halfway down the hall when the lights came on again. The red lights gave way to harsh fluorescents. A ripple of surprise and relief went through the building, but it was short-lived. A couple of seconds later, the lights went out again, and the red emergency lights returned.

Lizzy was waiting in the break room, seated at the table. As Melanie entered the room, the overhead lights flashed on again. This time, it was even briefer, less than a second.

It’s like the backup generator wants to work, but it just can’t, Lizzy said.

Come on. Derrick said to take this crap down to the supply closet, then we can get out of here, Melanie replied, gesturing at the stacks of unused cups, plates, and silverware on the small handcart near the door. I don’t like any of this, and work is the last place I want to be if something weird is going on.

She checked her phone again. She had plenty of battery life left, but still just one bar. When she tried to send a text message again, she got the same exclamation point. Message failed to send. As she did that, Lizzy grabbed the unfinished bottles of alcohol and set them on the handcart.

It’s strange that the power went out when there’s no storm outside, she thought. What else could have knocked out power lines and cell towers?

It only took one person to push the handcart, but she was glad that Lizzy stuck around. As Melanie pushed the cart, Lizzy laid a hand against the top edge—as if she wanted to give the appearance that she was helping. Stan Lipton was standing just inside his office, glaring at an ancient flip phone in his hand, as if it had offended him.

How can the phones be down? he muttered. Why doesn’t the boss know anything? What’s wrong with people? Is this whole building filled with idiots?

The universe had no answers for Stan, and he was left to ponder in lonely silence as Melanie continued past his door. The lights flashed on again just as they reached the corner, struggling for a few seconds before shutting off again.

This is creeping me out, Lizzy said. Is someone messing with us?

Not sure, Melanie replied. Maybe.

There were actually two supply closets not far from the doors that led into the factory floor. They stood across from each other. Distracted, Melanie headed for the farthest one simply because it was already propped open with a rubber stopper. She pushed the handcart through the door. The bright red emergency light revealed rows of tall shelves stocked with bottles, cartons, and boxes of supplies. She kicked the stopper out from under the door in passing. As it swung shut, Lizzy caught it, then let it ease shut behind them.

Do we have to put everything back on the shelves? Lizzy asked. Let’s just dump the cart and get out of here.

You know Derrick will check, Melanie replied, as she unloaded the cups onto an open shelf. I’m not going to give him a legitimate excuse to gripe. He’ll have to invent something. She picked up a big plastic bottle of cheap vodka and set it on a lower shelf.

So much leftover booze, Lizzy said, picking up a green bottle of cheap champagne. What a shame.

Who wants to get liquored up in the presence of Derrick Platt? Melanie said. That’s just asking for trouble. You have to watch what you say around him.

Melanie was arranging bottles on the shelf when the lights flickered again. They didn’t come all the way on, and Melanie heard a faint buzzing sound in the walls, followed by a low click. She froze. Then she turned to Lizzy.

That sound…? she said.

And it occurred to her then what it might have been. She turned and rushed back to the closet door. The lights continued to flicker, as she grabbed the big silver handle. She turned the handle and pulled the door, just as she heard the bolt slam against the strike plate.

You’ve got to be kidding me, she muttered, pulling at the door again.

What is it now?