Carrington 2.0

He was a prepper geek, stashing stuff “just in case”, always talking about this thing called the Carrington Event that happened in 1857 and that it would happen again, and this time it would be very bad.

He thought he loved me. Maybe he did. I said we could be just friends and he said OK. Then he gave me that stupid heart-shaped locket, like something from a gumball machine. I don’t know why I kept it. Maybe to know I’m loved by someone even if I didn’t love him back.

“Daniel, I said friends.”

“Keep it,” he said. ”Open it when the Carrington Event hits. Then find me.”

Out of politeness, I listened to him drone on and on about that Carrington Event. Good thing, too.

I don’t feel guilty, much. I was on my way home from visiting my boyfriend - He wasn’t really my boyfriend, just a guy I liked to sleep with. I’m not a slut. Don’t judge.

I was heading home to Pensacola from Memphis at about 10 PM when my phone GPS said there was an accident and suggested a detour. So, I did. I wasn’t paying that much attention. Traffic was very light and I hadn’t gotten to Tupelo yet.

I was on state road whatever in Mississippi. My phone would tell me when to get back on the interstate. The just car stopped, the lights went out, my phone died. It was pitch black. Not just my car, everything.

There were parking lot lights behind me. I’d go for help. But, it wasn’t parking lot lights. The sky was filled with a brilliant yellow, green, and purple glow, like a cosmic Mardi Gras. It was an eerie quiet. My hair frizzed. The air was literally filled with electricity.

I knew ... the Carrington Event. If it weren’t for Daniel I would have been clueless.

The horror lasted over a week. People would touch doorknobs and be electrocuted. Emergency generators exploded. People died in showers, baths, on the toilet, and just walking down the road. Lightning would just strike out of a clear sky. Metal doors would arcweld shut. Electric lights would glow even when turned off and often exploded.

Anyway, back to that night. Walking, I came to “The Baptist Church of The Holy Ghost at Pentecost”. It was a small building, but the parking lot was full. It was a black church having an all-night revival. They took me in like I was one of them, not some random white city girl. I was never into religion, but they were really nice. It was weird at first, they raised their hands and stuff when they prayed. They asked if they could lay hands on me and pray. I didn’t want to offend them so I said yes. It felt … comforting, not sure why. Still, it was weird. I was lucky to have found them. They assured me that it was not luck and all, but the will of God.

At first, nobody was worried. Between the Northern Lights and people dying randomly from electrocution, my new friends said that The Lord Jesus would be showing up any minute. I don’t think He did. That week, I explained how to be careful and avoid accidentally creating a circuit with your body as Daniel had explained to me.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I opened Daniel’s locket at first light. It was engraved with numbers and letters. K42J6 on the left side 21-18-2 QU718 on the right. There was also a gold coin, a little bigger than a dime. A British gold sovereign. Of course, ATMs and credit card machines would be worthless after a Carrington Event. That thing had to be worth a thousand dollars.

After people stopped dying from random lightning and the Northern lights faded, the first month wasn’t bad. Old cars, Motorcycles, and four-wheel ATVs usually worked. A few generators were working. Most stores would take cash. I was able to get $800 for my gold coin at a pawn shop.

I’m not saying the first month was good. I don’t know how many people died, but everybody I met had lost someone. The folks at that church who took me in hurt less than most. That old wooden building with old wooden pews and a closet full of candles was the perfect place to ride out a solar storm. There was food in the kitchen and charcoal grills and an old-style hand pump that still worked. A lot of them had older cars.

Most of the church members started living at the church. Those with working cars would go with others to their homes to get supplies. I thought they were saying “Ask For”, but they weren’t. They were saying “Acts 4”. We had more than enough that first month. I took my turn in the kitchen and doing chores and I used some of my cash to buy supplies.

After a month, the stores were empty. I had money, but there was little to spend it on.

People with working cars brought us news. This was worldwide. Planes had fallen from the sky. Every satellite was dead. The cities were in chaos. Places with working utilities had become armed fortresses. There was no relief coming to rural Mississippi.

The lawlessness didn’t happen instantly. But, the police had no cars or radios and we had no phones to call them. We were on our own. You’ve heard the expression, “I’d kill for a cup of coffee”? It happened. Cigarettes, too.

Then the refugees started. Our little church tried to take care of sojourners the best they could. They took a few in, at first. But, it wasn’t long until the refugees became less grateful and more aggressive. One night, a group of four whom we had given a loaf of bread, a gallon of water, and a jar of peanut butter decided they wanted more and came back shooting.

I had a gun, of course, a Glock 43 9mm. Only 6 shots. I used two shots that night. I don’t know why I didn’t think to buy more ammo when I sold my gold coin. Almost all of the men and most of the women were also armed. The refugees didn’t stand a chance, they all died in the gunfight. Sadly, the pastor’s oldest daughter was also killed. The pastor, his wife, and two of his wife’s sisters were inconsolable.

After that, the little community started falling apart. I wasn’t going to be able to stay.

It was perhaps, a week after the gunfight I went to the pastor’s office. He wasn’t doing too badly that day. Well, he wasn’t crying as much. He was just reading his bible and praying. “Brother Johnson”, I said, “It’s time for me to find my friend, Daniel”.

“The one in Pensacola? Girl, that’s over 300 miles away, you got a hundred twenty-five dollars cash money, four bullets, and that heart-shaped locket you keep staring at.”

“Daniel has a cabin between Mobile and Pensacola on the River Styx.”

“Say what?”

“Seriously, that’s the name of the river. He’s the one who told me what a Carrington Event was, and what it would be like and what to avoid and what to do.”

“He’s a prophet for sure, if you hadn’t come to us when you did and explain what was happening, I don’t know how many of us might have died that first week. “

“He asked me to find him after the Carrington Event hit us.”

“So you know where this cabin is?”

“No, I was going to Google it. I remember it’s easier to get to by boat.”

The Reverend’s oldest son, Walter, would drive me as far as he could in their 1982 Chevy Luv mini-pickup. It was more Bondo than metal.

The pastor at “our sister church” - a white church about a mile and a half down the road had supplies I could buy. I used the last of my money to buy 3, full 10-gallon gas cans, 10 more rounds of ammo, and two pounds of coffee, 6 decks of cards for trade. We added a box of 30-gallon garbage bags and some miscellaneous cleaning supplies to our trade stash. Walter would drive me until about half the gas was gone, and trade for things his family needed along the way. Feminine hygiene supplies were high on his sisters’ lists. Even cash money was worthless less than a month later.

Living in the deep south without AC is its own special kind of hell. And that truck didn’t have AC.

We traded a pound of coffee and a gallon of bleach for a paper map and a compass. We avoided the impassable main roads. Military bases had power and working vehicles. We avoided them when possible.

The closer we got to Mobile, the harder it was to avoid the military. About 100 miles from Mobile, half the gas was used. I traded a deck of cards for a backpack and a canteen full of clean water.

We were ambushed at our last stop. Walter was hit in the leg, I got grazed in the arm. We killed all three robbers. We looted the looters. We got ammo, toilet paper, cigarettes, and liquor. Even a first aid kit, and patched ourselves up. I filled up my backpack and said goodbye to Walter.

It took me weeks to get to Mobile and longer than that to get through it. I killed three more men who tried to rob me (or worse) and I took what they had. Ironically, being robbed was quite profitable for me.

Mobile was safe as anywhere. Everyone was armed. Moving between neighborhoods was expensive. You had to know someone or have something they wanted. The military made it especially difficult to cross the rivers and the bay.

The military didn’t need much. I traded what they wanted to cross military zones and get across the bay and the rivers. I’m not a whore, don’t judge me.

I got to the Styx and found a guy willing to trade me a canoe for a carton of cigarettes, a fifth of Jack, and two bottles of Tobasco sauce.

I paddled upriver. There were letters painted on trees next to creek mouths. H, I, J, then K. I looked at the locket. Maybe? I paddled my canoe up the creek next to K. Soon, I began seeing rocks with painted numbers on either side of the creek - 39, 40, 41, 42. I beached my canoe and began hiking up the trail. Random letter-number combinations peppered the trail. A1, B7, Q2 sometimes on trees, sometimes on rocks. On a large rock, I saw J6. Hidden behind the rock was a narrow trail heading uphill.

There was a skeleton on the cabin porch. Insects had consumed its flesh, but the stench was overly nauseating. At first, I feared it was Daniel, then I saw the crowbar and scorch mark and realized he’d been electrocuted trying to break in that first week. Avoiding, the body I opened my locket for the combination to the padlock.

The back wall of the cabin was a concrete block outbuilding with a vault door. There were 5 alpha-numeric dials. I looked at the locket and began to set each dial - Q, U, 7, 1, 8.

The vault was packed with freeze-dried food, playing cards, butane lighters, ammunition, tobacco, liquor, books, and much more. In this post-Carrington world, it was a fortune.

The next weeks were comfortable but lonely. But I knew what was wrong. I kept hoping Daniel would show up. I didn’t want to go through this next thing alone. I needed to just talk to someone. I had given up on seeing Daniel when the door opened. I leveled my gun and found myself facing Daniel, pointing a 45 caliber revolver at me. We relaxed and smiled at one another and lowered our weapons.

“Daniel”, I said, “I’m pregnant”.