No Power: EMP Survival In A Powerless World Read online

  Trip shrugged Sebastian’s hand off. “For now. You should give that PA a raise. She’s the only one on set who knows how to handle actors.”

  Sebastian glared at Ailani, who smirked back. Sebastian snapped his fingers. “That’s enough dawdling, everyone. I’d like to finish this scene by dawn. Let’s go!”

  The crew hustled into place. Ailani joined Walt near the edge of the set, where they would be neither seen nor heard. Sebastian took his seat in front of the monitors, put his headphones on, and cued the crew he was ready to go.

  “Quiet on set! Stop eating chips, Jack.”

  “Audio rolling.”

  “Camera rolling.”

  Trip rolled out his shoulders one more time.

  Sebastian tensed. “And… action!”

  The set went dark. As we plunged into darkness, everything shut down with a whir of electrical components giving up. Since the studio had no windows, it was a complete darkness, the kind that put invisible pressure against your open eyes. Ailani blinked, trying to see anything at all, but it was useless. Walt’s hand brushed against hers, and she linked their fingers together. Strength in numbers.

  “What the hell just happened?” Sebastian yelled. “Isn’t this place supposed to have backup generators?”

  Tentative footsteps crossed the set and a small crash sounded. “Ow! Sebastian, the generators are supposed to come on automatically. If they haven’t already, it’s because they’re busted too.”

  As Sebastian groaned, Ailani imagined him doing his signature hand toss. She fished in her pocket for her cell and tried to wake it. “That’s weird,” she muttered. “My phone’s dead. I charged it before I got here.”

  “Mine too,” Walt said. “It won’t turn on.”

  Someone turned on a heavy-duty flashlight and pointed it toward the ceiling. It wasn’t much light, but it gave everyone a frame of reference around the room. Sebastian hurled his headphones across the set.

  “Someone do something!” he ordered.

  “Backup generators are down,” another crew member reported. “Might be a citywide blackout.”

  “I don’t care,” Sebastian said. “Get us powered up. If we don’t finish this scene tonight, I’m done with this entire production. I’ve had enough of this—”

  A huge explosion interrupted his tirade. Startled yells echoed around the studio. People flinched, ducked, or took cover, but the explosion hadn’t happened indoors. All at once, everyone rushed for the emergency exits. The flashlight got knocked over, sending the only source of light spinning haphazardly around the room. Ailani almost joined the fray, but Walt held her back. They waited until the stampede had slowed before tagging along with everyone else outside.

  Los Angeles was never this dark. Every light in the city had been extinguished. For the first time in forever, the stars were visible. The moon—almost full—was the single shining beacon, though it was nothing compared to the illumination Ailani was accustomed to. Crowds gathered in the streets, and Ailani followed Walt and the others past the studio gates to see what the commotion was. The reason for the explosion became clear immediately. The transformer outside the studio had exploded. Alight with fire, it burned like an enormous torch irradiating the street.

  “This is a disaster waiting to happen,” Walt muttered as he watched the blaze lick the telephone wires.

  “Look!”

  Ailani pointed to another transformer farther away. Sparks flew around it, and in the next second, it went up in flames too. All around the city, small fires erupted as the transformers blew one by one.

  “We need to get out of here,” Walt said, taking Ailani’s hand. “Come on.”

  They wriggled out of the crowd and jogged away from the studio. A collective scream went up from the crowd as the telephone wires, crackling and sparking, disconnected from the transformer and swung toward the ground. People scattered like cockroaches, running in every direction.

  Sebastian stormed into the street, unconcerned about the city’s lack of power. “Get back inside! You’re all on the clock. We’re not finished with this scene!”

  Ailani turned back, but Walt caught her by the arm. “No way,” he said. “We’re not compromising our safety for that moron. Besides, they’re not going to be able to get anything done without power.”

  Ailani flinched as the transformer let out another show of sparks. “Do you know what this reminds me of? That crappy solar storm movie we worked on a couple years ago. This was how it all started—worldwide blackout, transformers blowing, no cell service…”

  Instinctively, they both checked their cells again, but the screens remained black. Walt stuffed his into his pocket, as if putting it out of sight would make him forget it wasn’t working.

  “It’s not a solar storm,” he said. “If it was, NASA would have warned us. We would have heard it coming on the news.”

  “Unless no one listened to NASA,” I said. “These days, the conservative news is doing such a lovely job of smashing science into the ground.”

  “Northern Lights,” Walt countered, pointing to the sky. “If it was a solar flare, we’d be able to see the Northern Lights. I think this is something else.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing good. Let’s stop by the store on the way home.”

  The twenty-four hour corner store near Ailani and Walt’s shared apartment was busier than they had ever seen it before despite the lack of electricity. People shone battery-powered flashlights across the rows of non-perishable foods and first aid supplies. They waited in a massive line to pay, clutching actual money instead of debit and credit cards.

  Walt grabbed two cheap LED flashlights from a display on the counter and handed one to Ailani. “Stay close to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

  They loaded up on whatever was left on the shelves. Protein bars, dehydrated fruit chips, bottled water, vitamin drinks, and whatever else hadn’t already been claimed by someone else. As Walt and Ailani joined the line to pay, an argument broke out at the front.

  “I don’t have cash,” a middle-aged man with a comb over said to the store owner. He carried three bags of potato chips and a handle of cheap vodka. “No one carries cash anymore. I’ll write you a check.”

  “Sorry,” the store owner replied. “Cash only. We don’t know how long this blackout is going to last, and I can’t afford to lose stock.”

  “Listen here.” The comb over man beckoned the store owner closer. “I’m going to write you a check, and you’re going to take it. That’ll be the end of it.”

  The store owner pursed his lips. “No, sir. It won’t be. Please step out of line. I need to help the other customers behind you who can actually pay.”

  Without warning, the man chucked the bottle of vodka up over the counter. The store owner ducked just in time, and the bottle exploded against the wall behind him. The situation didn’t have time to escalate. The burly woman in line behind the comb over guy tackled him from behind, pinned his arms behind his back, and escorted him out of the store to resounding cheers. When she returned, she dusted her hands and grinned at the shop keeper.

  “I used to be a cop,” she said as she handed over a ten-dollar bill for her items. “If you’re in line and you don’t have cash to pay for your things, don’t be like that guy!”

  A few people stepped out of line, dropped their wares at random, and let themselves out of the store. Ailani nudged Walt.

  “Do we have enough cash?” she whispered.

  “I carry an emergency fifty in my wallet at all times,” he replied. “We’re covered.”

  The Los Angeles blackout had already become a novelty. People star-gazed and watched the rest of the transformers fizzle out. Electricity and cell phones weren’t the only thing to go. Whatever caused the blackout had also fried most of the cars. The streets were blocked with stagnant sedans and trucks, the owners of which had abandoned their vehicles to find an alternate way home or were determined to stick around until a solution had been found. A
few cars were still running, all older models, but their drivers couldn’t find a clear path through the blocked streets.

  Ailani and Walt’s apartment wasn’t far from the studio. They walked or rode their bikes to work most days. Neither one of them owned a car. L.A rent was expensive enough on its own, and traffic was so awful that most people didn’t want a car. Ailani and Walt shared a studio apartment on the fourth floor of their building. Having no privacy meant getting to know one another on a molecular basis, but they managed well enough. Their unit didn’t have a kitchen either, so they were used to storing their food in a mini fridge and cooking dinners on a hot plate, an electric griddle, or a George Foreman grill.

  Walt poured a bag of ice into the bottom of the fridge. “We should eat whatever’s in here tonight. It won’t stay cold for much longer.”

  They set up a picnic on the floor of the five foot by five foot area they dubbed the “dining room” and began eating by the light of emergency flashlights. It was a feast of sorts, featuring all the leftover Chinese food from the day before, salad fixings but no lettuce, and Ailani’s portable yogurts meant for children but were too convenient not to buy.

  “Do you think it’s like this everywhere?” Ailani asked Walt as she dug wontons out of a soup container. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “No idea.” Walt chewed on bourbon chicken. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “I hope it’s just L.A,” she said. “I don’t want Dad and Keiko to have to deal with this mess. Did you see how many fender benders happened down there?”

  Walt speared another piece of chicken with the end of his chopstick instead of pinching it between two like a normal person. “They’re the lucky ones. Kauai is way more natural than L.A. They know a lot more about living without power than we do.”

  “What about your family? Where are they?”

  Walt shrugged with practiced nonchalance. He never spoke about his family, and he wasn’t in contact with them. Though they had been roommates for years, Ailani didn’t know the details of his family feud.

  “My uncle is near Red Bluff,” Walt said. “He’s the other weird one in the family. We relate. Other than him, you’re the only person I care about.”

  “This is just like that solar storm movie,” Ailani said again. “Do you think it’s going to get that bad?”

  Walt gazed out the window. The sky was filled with smoke from the blown transformers all over the county. The stars were no longer visible. “I hope not.”

  “You think it was an EMP, don’t you?”

  Ailani could read Walt like a book, and they shared almost every idea that crossed their minds. During the solar storm movie shoot, Walt had gone above and beyond in his research. There were two reasons for Earth to be plunged into total darkness. One was a coronal mass ejection from the sun. The other was an electromagnetic pulse bomb set off in the atmosphere.

  “I don’t want to think that,” Walt said. “But that’s the only explanation for this.”

  “I’m sure the government has a protocol for this type of event,” Ailani said. “They’ll start cleaning up tomorrow, right?”

  “I hope so. Otherwise, we’re screwed.”

  2

  Ailani slept through the mounting chaos outside, but not through Walt shuffling around the studio apartment when he woke up before she did. She covered her head with the blankets as he wiped their plates clean of Chinese food with a paper towel.

  “What are you doing?” she groaned. “It’s early.”

  “It’s noon,” Walt said, gesturing to the sun shining into the apartment from the balcony. “I’m cleaning. We have no running water, so we’re going to have to make do.”

  She sat up, groggy-eyed. “There’s no water?”

  “Nope. Water pumps rely on electricity.”

  “How are we supposed to go to the bathroom?”

  Walt stacked the semi-clean plate on top of the others. “You can still go, but there’s no way to flush. It’s going to get smelly in here fast.”

  Ailani stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Sure enough, Walt hadn’t been able to get rid of his morning deposit. Ailani held her nose as she did her business.

  “This sucks,” she announced in the common room.

  “Yup,” Walt agreed. He carried yogurt, fruit, and juice across the room and opened the sliding door to the balcony with his foot. “This stuff is getting warm already. Let’s finish it. You want coffee? I have instant.”

  She helped him set breakfast on the balcony table. “No, let’s save the bottled water we have. We might have to make it last longer than we think.”

  They settled down to eat. A peaceful breeze wafted Ailani’s hair around her face. She swept it out of the way and looked at the view from their apartment. On a good day, she could see the ocean glistening in the distance, but today was not a good day. The air was filled with smoke from last night’s fires. It clogged the sky with unnatural gray clouds.

  The situation on the streets was no better. Dead, busted cars blocked every intersection. Some accidents were worse than others. On the corner, a pickup truck had T-boned a small sedan, crushing the driver’s side. Both cars were empty. Where the victims had gone was anybody’s guess. On the opposite side of the building, a group of people were trying their best to reach a car that was blocked against the side of a building by a semi truck. A dog barked manically, trapped inside.

  “This isn’t good,” Ailani muttered. “What are we supposed to do today?”

  “Go to the studio,” Walt suggested. “We don’t know how long this is going to last, and we’re going to need all the resources we can get. We have access to the studio. We can use the restrooms there. They have first aid stuff and other things we might be able to pilfer.”

  A uniformed cop appeared on the scene, not in a cruiser but on a bicycle. He dismounted near the crowd of people trying to rescue the dog from the car. The crowd parted to let the cop through, and he used his baton to smash the front windshield of the car. The lucky pup crawled into the cop’s arms, scared but safe. The crowd cheered the cop’s heroics.

  “I wonder how long Sebastian kept everyone there last night,” Ailani said. “He’s such an ass.”

  “Twenty bucks says he tries to film today.”

  “I’m not taking that bet. Sebastian’s crazy enough to try it.”

  Walt drained his juice cup. “Only one way to find out. Want to head over there?”

  The walk to the studio was a hundred times more stressful than usual. Though Ailani and Walt didn’t have to avoid the crazy drivers that normally swarmed the roads, they did have to wade through the chaos in the streets. They passed more and more car accidents, trapped civilians, and rescue efforts. The blown transformers and ruined power lines had caused more trouble than anticipated. Nearby houses had caught fire, and they were still smoldering. There were no paramedics or emergency vehicles on the scene. No ambulances or fire trucks. What few people arrived in uniform rode bicycles, like the cop who had helped rescue the dog near their apartment. Ailani overhead a cop explaining himself to a teary mother.

  “Our cars don’t work,” he said. “Even if they did, we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. Every street is blocked up like this one. It’s impossible to move farther than three feet. We’re working on getting the roads cleared, but we gotta do it with manpower. We’re trying our best.”

  The crying woman, who had lost touch with her teenage son, was not to be consoled. “What’s going on, Officer? Why is this happening?”

  “We’re trying to figure that out,” the cop answered. “For now, it’s best if you stay inside. Ration your food and water supplies. The city is trying to restore power as fast as possible.”

  Walt let out a snort. “That cop’s either dreaming or lying.”

  “Why do you say that?” Ailani asked.

  “Transformers take a while to build,” he replied. “From what I’ve read, it takes forever to replace one. We’ll be lucky to h
ave power in months, if not years.”

  At the studio, Ailani and Walt ran into trouble. The security guards at the front gates didn’t recognize them.

  “Ailani Ho,” she said for the tenth time, flashing her ID badge in the guard’s face. “And Walt Dailey. We’re PAs for the Sebastian Paris movie. Just let us in.”

  “No can do,” said the gruff guard. His nametag read Sergeant, and Ailani wondered if that was actually his last name or he’d changed it to make everyone address him as so. “We had a ton of break-ins last night. Rabble-rousers causing trouble. Studio’s closed today anyway. Go home, kids.”

  Ailani made eye contact with the other security guard, who shrugged. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than stand outside these gates?” she asked. “L.A is falling apart. You should manage your priorities better.”

  “Nice try,” Sergeant said. “Run along now.”

  “Let’s go, Ailani,” Walt said, pulling her hand. “It’s not worth it.”

  Sergeant waved a mocking goodbye as Walt dragged Ailani away from the studio gates and around the corner. She wrestled her hand free from his.

  “This was your idea,” she reminded him. “You’re going to give up that easily?”

  “Of course not.” Walt scanned the studio’s perimeter. “But didn’t you notice? Sergeant and that other yutz were the only guards to report for duty this morning. No one else is here. Check it out.” He hurried around the corner and pointed. “The back gate is completely open. Shall we?”

  He offered Ailani his arm, and she linked her own through it. They skipped through the back gates, not bothering to scan their ID badges at the security desk. Once inside, Ailani felt herself relax. The studio was empty. The “rabble-rousers,” as Sergeant labeled them, had already come and gone, breaking a few windows to get what they wanted. Without anyone there, the studio felt safer than the streets. There were no broken-down cars here and little evidence of last night’s events.

  “Let’s check the set,” Walt said, ushering Ailani inside the warehouse they’d been working in. “Think anyone else is here?”