Sudden Chaos Read online

  Sudden Chaos

  A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Short Story

  Copyright © T. L. Payne 2019

  All Rights Reserved

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  Cover design by Deranged Doctor Designs

  Edit by J. Dockery Brooks

  Proofreading by Kristin Masbaum

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  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Preview of Turbulent

  Also by T. L. Payne

  Join T. L. Payne on social media

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Traffic around the airport was at a standstill. The radio said protests had shut down the roads into the terminal. Erick Wynn looked in his rearview mirror. He considered turning around and heading back home. But if he did not get on the plane, he might get fired.

  His boss at the Ford Motor Company assembly plant in Chicago had insisted he fly down to Mexico to oversee the implementation of the new programming for the automated production system. Erick was furious since his wife was eight-and-a-half months pregnant, and he did not want to leave her alone.

  If the project was so important to the company, why didn’t they hire competent people to run it?

  A knock on Erick’s driver’s side window startled him.

  “Move it,” the officer said and pointed his traffic wand toward the exit ramp.

  Erick pulled ahead and exited the highway. He followed the line of cars winding its way through streets lined with warehouses that eventually led to a parking lot at Chicago O’Hare International Airport. Erick parked in the first slot he saw open and rushed to the terminal, only to find that all flights had been delayed. As he stood before the departure screen, he tried to remember the last time he had seen so many delayed or cancelled flights.

  Erick reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He tapped his wife’s number and waited. Instant panic set in when Amy didn’t pick up. He left a message on her voicemail that his flight had been delayed, asked how she was for the hundredth time that day, and then pocketed his phone.

  Empty seats were sparse, but he found one near an American Airlines customer service desk. Ten minutes passed, and Amy had not returned his call, so he dialed her mother’s number. Amy and her mother, Sharon, were close. When they weren’t together, they were on the phone with one another. That was too close in his opinion, but he wasn’t a pregnant woman, so he assumed that was the norm.

  Erick wasn’t close to his mother—he had never been. His family was complicated. He was the only child to parents who never wanted children. He had been ten years old when his father left them. Erick’s mother blamed him. Most kids feel like it’s their fault when their parents divorce, he had been told, but Erick’s mother had explicitly accused him of being the cause of the divorce on numerous occasions.

  Erick tried Amy’s number again, then Sharon’s. He was now truly panicked. He called Sharon’s work phone and only got her voicemail. He was in the middle of leaving a message, saying he couldn't reach Amy and was coming home, when the phone went dead. Erick removed the phone from his ear and stared at the black screen. He tried to power it up, but it acted as if it was dead.

  It can’t be dead—it had a full charge.

  Then the lights in the terminal went out. A collective groan rolled through the concourse. Erick stood and looked out the window. He didn’t know what he expected to see—a storm, tornado, something to explain the power being out.

  “Don’t worry, the generators will turn on in a minute,” said the elderly gentlemen sitting next to him.

  The man sat facing the window with his wife’s hand clutched in his lap. Erick pictured him and Amy at that age, flying off to visit their children and grandchildren.

  “I wonder what knocked out the power this time? The weather was supposed to be clear today,” Erick said, turning toward the man.

  “Probably those cyber hackers the news has been talking about all week,” the elderly man’s wife said, her voice soft and frail.

  Erick’s throat tightened at the realization that hackers could have caused a blackout. He had heard talk about hackers on the news lately but dismissed it as media speculation. His buddy, Larry, had believed the reports, but Erick couldn’t see them as a real threat—until now. He had been more concerned about a coming economic collapse. The country’s debt was unsustainable, in his opinion, and he foresaw an economic collapse that would plunge the world into chaos. He had been preparing for such an event as a member of a local prepper group. Members of the group had been preparing for a variety of end-of-the-world scenarios, but Erick had found none of the others’ fears plausible.

  He pictured the city’s last blackout and remembered the chaos it caused. His first instinct was to run to his car and race home, but he remembered that the streets surrounding the airport had been blocked with protestors. Racing anywhere was out of the question, even if he could get his car out of the parking lot.

  “Shit. Now my phone is dead. I just freaking charged the damn thing too,” a woman sitting behind them cursed.

  Erick instinctively checked his phone again. The same black screen greeted him instead of the usual picture of his pregnant wife. He stood and surveyed the terminal, towering over the heads of the other would-be passengers at six-feet-six inches tall. Erick reached down for the extended handle of his carry-on bag.

  “I’ve got to get home,” Erick said.

  “Good luck. Be safe out there,” the elderly man said.

  “Thanks,” Erick said over his shoulder as he wheeled his bag toward the main concourse.

  As he rushed around a corner, he ran right into two security officers. His carry-on bag went skidding away as he stumbled over the men’s feet. One officer steadied him as the other picked up his bag.

  “Slow down there, man. Where are you rushing off to?” the officer asked.

  “I need to get home to my wife.”

  “Sorry, but no one is allowed to leave right now. We are on lockdown because of the power outage.”

  “What? You can’t do that,” Erick said, taking his bag from the other officer.

  “It is a standard protocol. If you’ll go back to your gate and wait, we should have power restored shortly. You can get your flight rescheduled if you need to,” the officer said, leading Erick back toward the gate.

  Erick complied, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do. If they locked the doors, he could not leave, anyway. He felt trapped. He pictured Amy giving birth at home—alone. His greatest fear was that she would be alone when she went into labor. He’d promised her he would not let that happen. He’d even scheduled vacation days for the whole week before and after her due date.

  He checked his watch. Sharon would be staying with Amy while he was away, but she wouldn’t arrive at their home until after work.

  She’s not alone. The neighbors are right next door. The hospital is three miles from our house. They have backup generators. If Amy goes into labor early, one of the neighbors will drive her to the hospital. It will be fine. Just chill out. Don’t overreact.

  He returned to his seat next to the elderly couple.

  “Change your mind?” the man asked.

  “They said they locked the doors becaus
e of the power outage. I have to wait on the generators to kick on, I guess,” Erick said.

  Erick fidgeted in his seat. He stood and walked up and down the terminal and returned again to his seat. After waiting thirty more minutes without the generator kicking on, Erick was getting the feeling that something more than a power outage had occurred. It was looking more and more like a cyberattack or an electromagnetic pulse had taken down the power grid.

  The passengers in the terminal had slowly turned from impatient to panicked during the time the lights had been off.

  He watched as an angry man in a sport coat and trousers attempted to climb onto the American Airlines customer service counter. The terrified woman behind the desk had her back pressed against the wall as far from the out-of-control passenger as possible. Two men grabbed the man by his arms, holding him back away from the frightened woman.

  “Why can’t you tell us what the hell is going on? My flight was supposed to leave three hours ago. Now the lights are out, and it is freaking hot as hell in here,” another passenger yelled at the petite woman.

  “My cell phone isn’t working. I need to use a phone,” another passenger called out.

  Erick stepped forward and held up an arm.

  “Listen up, folks. All this yelling and getting aggressive with customer service is not going to get us answers that the woman clearly does not have.”

  “Well, someone sure as hell better start explaining pretty damn fast,” the man in the sport coat barked.

  “Look around you. It is a chaotic mess in here. It’s not just American Airlines flights that are delayed. No planes have taken off or landed here since the lights went out. The power is out, and something has disrupted cell…”

  An explosion rattled the building. The cockpit of an airliner skidded down the runway outside the terminal, punctuated by an ear-piercing sound of metal on concrete. Erick turned to face the window. He stared at the burning wreckage of the plane on the tarmac. A second plane dropped from the sky in flames, scattering itself onto the runway in pieces. The people by the window panicked and ran toward the main concourse.

  Erick backed away from the scene. The interior of the terminal was dark. The only light came from the windows where a surreal show of flames and black smoke cast long shadows toward the center of the terminal.

  Erick thought of Amy. He worried that if she saw the images of crashed planes on the news, it would freak her out. He patted his pocket. He had already checked his cell phone half-a-dozen times. He doubted anything had changed in the last five minutes, but he pulled it out anyway. The cell phone screen was black, and the power still would not come on.

  He slid it back into his pocket, grabbed the handle of his carry-on bag, and ran with a group of passengers toward the main concourse. Erick stopped when he saw a group of security officers running toward one of the other terminals.

  He looked over his shoulder. Fighting had broken out between angry passengers and another security team was doing their best to break up the group. They shoved a young girl with curly red hair to the floor. She was at risk of being trampled by the group. Her frightened eyes locked onto his, and her fear seemed to bore into his soul. He pictured his own daughter alone and scared.

  He released his grip on his suitcase and sprinted over to the child. He reached down and scooped her up just before two men crashed to the floor where she had been. He shoved the girl forward just before someone pushed him from behind causing him to go crashing to the floor. Someone stepped on Erick’s left hand when he attempted to push himself to his feet. Then a security officer tumbled backwards into Erick, pushing him back to the floor and knocking the wind out of him. Erick sat up and tried to catch his breath.

  “Everyone down on your knees, now! Do it now! I will tase you,” a security officer yelled, his taser pointed at the crowd.

  Erick looked around, and all the officers had their tasers drawn. He complied with their demands and lay prone on the cold floor. He obeyed their command to extend his arms and spread his legs. With his face pressed against the floor, he could see the burly man next to him resisting an officer’s attempt to put cuffs on his wrists.

  He felt a knee in his back, knocking the breath from him once more.

  “Place your right hand behind your back,” the officer said, placing his hand on Erick’s wrist.

  Erick complied.

  Erick lay there with his hands cuffed behind his back, watching, as one-by-one the officers handcuffed several fellow travelers.

  “Now, here is what we are going to do. We will come around and set you up. You are to keep quiet until we ask for your name. We will then lead each of you to a holding area where we will take your information and statements. Is that clear?”

  The security officers never got around to take his statement. Within minutes of breaking up the fight, the officers all ran off down the corridor toward another loud explosion that shook the building. Erick wasn’t willing to wait on their return. Getting out of the cuffs would be his first big hurdle. If his suitcase was where he left it, he might get to the obsidian knife he had hidden in the lining of his bag. He would need to convince someone to use it to cut the ties, but that was a hurdle to cross later.

  Amazingly, his carry-on was still sitting where he’d left it. He looked around suspiciously as it still being there was so out of the ordinary. Typically, someone might steal a bag left unattended. At the very least, a bag left alone would normally have caught the attention of security officers.

  Erick turned his back to the case and fished for the handle with his cuffed hands. He knew someone who might help him escape his binds. It was difficult and awkward, but he wheeled the case back down to the gate where the elderly couple stood by the service desk. As soon as the man saw Erick, he walked over to help him with the bag. In minutes, Erick’s hands were free, and after thanking the old man for his help, Erick glanced at his bag and headed toward the exit.

  There is nothing in there that will help me get home.

  The escalators leading to the ground level exit were a bottleneck. With the power out, passengers descended the steps in an awkward, slow-moving rush. When his turn came, Erick stepped onto the escalator and navigated a jostled descent with the others, one step at a time.

  From his elevated view, he saw a man in a white dress shirt shove a woman out of his way at the bottom of the steps. The woman sprawled face first onto the tile floor. The man stepped over her and ran for the exit. An older lady stopped and took the woman’s arm to help her up. She, too, was shoved to the ground by others unhappily adapting to the slow-moving manual descent. Now, two women lay in a heap at the bottom of the escalator.

  A teenage boy in front of Erick put both hands on the rails and vaulted over the two women. The boy then shoved an older man out of his way and ran toward the exit.

  Erick stepped over the two women, then turned to help them away from the bottom of the escalator. As the older woman got to her feet, Erick noticed the little red-haired girl he had gone to rescue earlier step off the escalator with her mother and father. Distracted, he didn’t see a large man following her who plowed into him and the two women, knocking them all back to the ground.

  After finally getting both women to their feet and away from the escalator, Erick exited the airport and ran to his car. The pungent odor of jet fuel from the crashed planes saturated the air. Black smoke from the burning planes hung low over the parking lot. No fire trucks came to extinguish the flames. Survivors stood, dazed, some walking in circles on the tarmac. Men in uniforms attempted to corral them away from the planes. Crowds from the airport headed for the main street leading north and south away from the terminal.

  Erick jumped into the driver’s seat of his car, keys in hand, and turned the ignition. Nothing happened. After several attempts without the engine making any sound at all, he knew he had to start walking. He popped the trunk, grabbed his get-home bag, and unzipped the main compartment. He fished around inside for his pistol case as he surveyed
the crowded parking lot. Brandishing a gun there seemed unwise. Instead, Erick came out with his Cold Steel SRK survival knife. He zipped the bag back up, attached the sheath to his belt, and slung the heavy, three-day pack around his shoulder, feeding his arms behind the shoulder pads. He hopped once, sending the pack into the air to provide slack as he pulled down on the adjustment straps, then stepped off into the passing crowd.

  As he reached Mannheim Road, he saw the little red-hair-girl and her family again. They crossed the road and headed south.

  Erick turned left and headed north, eventually connecting to Interstate 90, where he joined a group of stranded motorists heading north. At first, people walked with purpose, talking and moving at a quick pace. But after a few miles, the group slowed.

  Not Erick. He was focused and paced himself.

  He passed a family pushing a small child in a stroller and thought of his own child and the stroller he and Amy had purchased for her. Erick had done extensive research to find the safest stroller on the market. Amy, however, only wanted a cute one.

  People walked with their heads down, a few making eye contact as Erick pushed past them. Those who left the airport with him looked dazed and confused. Erick could understand how the situation might cause that. It wasn’t every day that one saw planes crash into the airport or all means of transportation and communication disrupted. It was a lot for the mind to process. But Erick didn’t have time to dwell on those things. His focus was putting one foot in front of the other and getting home to his wife and unborn child.

  Erick exited on Illinois 53 and headed north toward Palantine. The closer he got to home, the faster he walked. When he saw the exit to Euclid Avenue, he picked up the pace and jogged. His mind raced through all the scenarios he might encounter at home. He pictured opening the door to his home and seeing Amy lying on the hardwood floor in a pool of blood, lifeless eyes greeting him at his homecoming.