Read Online The Perseid Collapse by Steven Konkoly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Konkoly
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providing a brief respite from the miserable day that lay ahead. Samantha walked into the kitchen from the mudroom.
“No cell phone signal yet. I’m worried about Chloe. The same thing might have hit Boston,” she said.
“This was some kind of microburst. They’re usually very localized. Probably knocked out power to the cell towers,” said Ed.
“I thought the towers had their own backup generators?”
“Most of them should,” he admitted. “If we can’t reach her by eight, we’ll leave the kids with Charlie and head to Boston. We can bring her back if there’s a problem down there.”
Ed had a sinking feeling that there was more to the morning’s power outage than strange weather. He’d retrieved their emergency radio from a box of camping supplies in the garage and taken it out on the deck, hoping to gain some basic information regarding the wind gust. Instead of the choppy, digital NOAA broadcast, he heard static. He anxiously cycled through the AM and FM bands, still unable to located a signal. Ed checked and rechecked the radio, cranking the hand-power generator for at least a minute before trying again. The radio’s LED burned brilliantly green throughout the process, telling him what he already suspected. The radio wasn’t the problem.
A sharp knock at the front door caused him to jump, spilling coffee on his hand.
“Damn it. Who the hell…?” he mumbled, setting the mug on the table.
He opened the door to find Charlie Thornton panting on his stoop. Charlie glanced over his shoulder twice, looking at the sky.
“They EMP’d our asses. Both of my cars are dead, and nothing works in my house. We’re sitting ducks,” said Charlie.
“Who EMP’d us?”
“The Chinese! Who else? They’ll probably start landing paratroopers within the hour, like Red Dawn !”
Ed regarded his neighbor for a moment, hesitating to invite him inside. Charlie stood there barefoot, dressed in faded jeans and an oversized white Red Sox T-shirt. He clung nervously to a black, AR-style rifle fitted with some kind of scope. Ed wasn’t keen on letting him inside, especially given the fact that Charlie had chosen a rifle over shoes.
“You gonna let me in or what? It won’t be long before we’re under direct attack,” he said, looking past Ed. “My guess is we’ll be hit by drones first.”
“Is the safety engaged on that thing?” Ed asked.
“Do I look like some kind of idiot?”
Ed glanced down at his bare feet and gave him a pained look.
“The safety’s on, for shit’s sake,” grunted Charlie.
Ed let Charlie in, closed the door and followed him to the kitchen.
“What did you mean about the cars?” he asked.
“Oh hey, Samantha,” Charlie said. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. Damn. Still glass everywhere,” he said, lifting a small piece off the kitchen island.
“The cars, Charlie?” Ed prompted.
“Oh yeah. Both of them are dead. The batteries turn over, but the engine won’t start. EMP fried the electronics. Have you tried yo—”
“What EMP?” interrupted Samantha.
“There’s no EMP, honey. I’m sure the cars are fine,” Ed said.
“You need to check them now,” Charlie insisted.
“I’m not running out there to—”
Charlie grabbed Ed’s T-shirt, pulling him toward the garage, but something caught his attention through the kitchen window.
“What the hell is that?” he said, releasing Ed’s shirt to run to the screen door.
Ed heard the problem a few seconds before he saw it. A thunderous crescendo of sharp cracks approached, violently shaking the tops of the largest trees visible over the row of houses directly behind them. At first he thought it was another wind burst, but the loud snaps sounded more like entire trees falling. The burst of wind that had knocked out their windows was powerful, but it had left little more than leaves and branches strewn across the yard. This was different. Something slower and more deliberate.
Before he fully digested the
“No cell phone signal yet. I’m worried about Chloe. The same thing might have hit Boston,” she said.
“This was some kind of microburst. They’re usually very localized. Probably knocked out power to the cell towers,” said Ed.
“I thought the towers had their own backup generators?”
“Most of them should,” he admitted. “If we can’t reach her by eight, we’ll leave the kids with Charlie and head to Boston. We can bring her back if there’s a problem down there.”
Ed had a sinking feeling that there was more to the morning’s power outage than strange weather. He’d retrieved their emergency radio from a box of camping supplies in the garage and taken it out on the deck, hoping to gain some basic information regarding the wind gust. Instead of the choppy, digital NOAA broadcast, he heard static. He anxiously cycled through the AM and FM bands, still unable to located a signal. Ed checked and rechecked the radio, cranking the hand-power generator for at least a minute before trying again. The radio’s LED burned brilliantly green throughout the process, telling him what he already suspected. The radio wasn’t the problem.
A sharp knock at the front door caused him to jump, spilling coffee on his hand.
“Damn it. Who the hell…?” he mumbled, setting the mug on the table.
He opened the door to find Charlie Thornton panting on his stoop. Charlie glanced over his shoulder twice, looking at the sky.
“They EMP’d our asses. Both of my cars are dead, and nothing works in my house. We’re sitting ducks,” said Charlie.
“Who EMP’d us?”
“The Chinese! Who else? They’ll probably start landing paratroopers within the hour, like Red Dawn !”
Ed regarded his neighbor for a moment, hesitating to invite him inside. Charlie stood there barefoot, dressed in faded jeans and an oversized white Red Sox T-shirt. He clung nervously to a black, AR-style rifle fitted with some kind of scope. Ed wasn’t keen on letting him inside, especially given the fact that Charlie had chosen a rifle over shoes.
“You gonna let me in or what? It won’t be long before we’re under direct attack,” he said, looking past Ed. “My guess is we’ll be hit by drones first.”
“Is the safety engaged on that thing?” Ed asked.
“Do I look like some kind of idiot?”
Ed glanced down at his bare feet and gave him a pained look.
“The safety’s on, for shit’s sake,” grunted Charlie.
Ed let Charlie in, closed the door and followed him to the kitchen.
“What did you mean about the cars?” he asked.
“Oh hey, Samantha,” Charlie said. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. Damn. Still glass everywhere,” he said, lifting a small piece off the kitchen island.
“The cars, Charlie?” Ed prompted.
“Oh yeah. Both of them are dead. The batteries turn over, but the engine won’t start. EMP fried the electronics. Have you tried yo—”
“What EMP?” interrupted Samantha.
“There’s no EMP, honey. I’m sure the cars are fine,” Ed said.
“You need to check them now,” Charlie insisted.
“I’m not running out there to—”
Charlie grabbed Ed’s T-shirt, pulling him toward the garage, but something caught his attention through the kitchen window.
“What the hell is that?” he said, releasing Ed’s shirt to run to the screen door.
Ed heard the problem a few seconds before he saw it. A thunderous crescendo of sharp cracks approached, violently shaking the tops of the largest trees visible over the row of houses directly behind them. At first he thought it was another wind burst, but the loud snaps sounded more like entire trees falling. The burst of wind that had knocked out their windows was powerful, but it had left little more than leaves and branches strewn across the yard. This was different. Something slower and more deliberate.
Before he fully digested the
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