NYE EMP; This is not a drill.

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Everyone knew that the world was due to be destroyed, there was no one who didn’t talk about it in hushed tones, or sarcastic humor. Americans joked about how they needed a reset, the Chinese countries battled for supremacy in a cold war, the islands wanted independence before their cultures were lost. Every single person has desires, every desire becomes dangerous when it comes to those geniuses that can manipulate those they please. All it took was one dictator taking the lead somewhere in the middle-east, one wise man to stand above everyone else and trample down those who stood adversely.

2030, the year that everything changed. On New Years Eve, the day that everyone would be out ringing in celebration. The pandemic panic had dwindled down significantly and the masses felt safe congregating again. Thousands of youths, elders and everything in between lined the streets, all to party and ring in the new year. However, that ball iconic didn’t drop the traditional way. It wasn’t the first event, but it was the first to hit the screens.

Five minutes to the ball drop, there was a glitch in the monitoring room at the Pentagon, it lasted for three seconds . Four minutes to midnight, the Alpha Scramble is ordered; the tension in the air of the control center is palpable. Three minutes to ball dropping, the music blaring and the cheers were deafening. So, the masses failed to hear the whistling overhead. Two minutes, explosions, fire and chaos breakout. One minute to the end, New York City went dark, the music cut like a puppet falling and breaking the illusion. Thirty seconds to midnight, a rocket launcher shot drowns in the pandemonium feet below. The crowd is oblivious that the wires suspending the now free held ball are destroyed.

With no safety measures to prevent against such terrorism, when the sheep below are disorganized breaking down barricades, trying to escape the flames blossoming in the dark. In the distance, the planes over the Atlantic are engaging in battle with a reinforcement battalion that followed the V-plane that shot the EMP and fire bombs. Electronics died instantly, the last thing that was shown on the cameras was the fire bombs dropping from the sky, then everything blanked. From the south east, to the west coast. Everyone was hushed, celebrations grinded to a halt.

Television screens cut out, the Emergency Broadcasting System came on. Every television in the nation, every radio station, even internet broadcast became a piercing noise. Sirens began blaring, the words began “This is not a drill. I repeat this is not a drill. This is an emergency broadcast from your president. All civilians return to your homes, or civic centers. We are entering a state of martial law. New York has been struck by terrorists. I repeat, we are entering Martial Law. All citizens are to return home or to civic centers. Commanders we are entering Defcon One. Our borders have been breached.” Those words began repeating.

Travel apps cut out. Businesses were forced to suspend operations. All active duty servicemen were called to arms. The country began to scramble, New York was under fire and unaware of the orders. New York has become a wholly lawless land. Worse than the shutdown from the pandemic, everything was screeching to a halt. State police were clearing the highways to be runways for the tanks, tractors and trailers mobilizing to the hotspots. Airlines were grounded and planes were docked, airforce one was being prepped.

The blackout spanned from New York to Pennsylvania to Boston. Everything just over 200 miles away was out. Planes fried crashing back to the ground, towers lost their juice, power lines went down. The shockwaves overloaded the lines, transformers were exploding like fire crackers, but more deadly. Generators surged and joined the deadly symphony. Flames were swallowing the central north east, while planes continued dropping where they were. Accidents, car failures, any car sold after 1990 had lost power, boats lost their electronic controls. The conductor of chaos caused 10,000 estimated deaths within one minute after impact. That number soared nearly twenty times in ten minutes.

A second drop over Chicago, A third over Atlanta, A fourth crippled Los Angeles. Once a majority was out of communication, the missiles began. The world saw this statement true “America is a wild card, they’re a bloodthirsty pitbull. If they cannot be controlled, they will be destroyed. Atlantic to Pacific, the waters were filling with fire, any craft that was flying was being shot down. Boats sunk to the depths, passenger or militarized. Ruthlessness is the only safeguard against vengeance, there will be no avengers if there is no blood left.

Pandemonium is putting the carnage lightly, after the EMPs hit, and the fire bombs were settling down. The places that still had radar, began detecting numerous airborne boogies. An open invitation for an all out missile war. The coasts were being peppered while the bases that could scrambled. The prided military force was nearly disabled.

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In a nondescript suburb south of Boston a small family of three lived. Uriel, a sweet little old lady who made her life's mission to make as many puzzles and knit goods as possible. Devlin was her husband of twenty years, an eighty year old bear who prized himself on treasuring his girls more than anything in the world. Spending a rare night home with his love and his angel, his granddaughter. Cherri, a young twenty three in college to be a design major; the biggest dreamer this side of the rainbow. Staying to watch the ball drop was her best friend since high school, Rachel. Rachel the outdoorsy wild child, home for new years at least, to refill and refresh her homebase and bunker and hang with her bestie.

Rachel and Cherri were fire and ice, and yet sunshine and thunder play the best together. When everything began going sideways, Rachel left Cherri’s house in a rush, she couldn’t leave her dogs alone. Everything happened too quickly, when the missiles started exploding Granny Uriel started getting very anxious. Within ten minutes she stopped breathing, she worried herself to death. The racing of her heart put her into cardiac arrest. Cherri couldn’t even fully form her tears before Devlin bit his lip and dragged her to their basement, they needed to get into the storm cellar.

Although not nearly as advanced as what Rachel made, they turned their simple storm cellar into a bunker. From the basement they pushed the dryer away and opened the trap door, under the basement they had a simple bunker installed. Loaded with water, seeds, preserves and canned goods. Some simple electronics, batteries and currencies. Cherri grabbed the snacks that were in the cupboards running back and forth to the shelter, throwing clothes, blankets and everything she could. Devlin was loading things in as she tossed them so she wouldn’t get stuck outside. She grabbed granny’s knitting and photo albums, she grabbed grampies war chest and anything she could. From books to medicines. When the floor shook, she grabbed the last things she could and ran in. They sealed the door behind her.

The bunker was on the smaller side, it was about the size of a pool shed, there was a small bathroom, they made sure to have simple plumbing installed when they got this installed just for comfort. A running toilet, sink and single person box shower. They had a simple spin hand washer and a line to dry things. A small heat and ac unit inside, there were shelves along the walls, cupboards, a small kitchenette with a fridge, burner unit and simple appliances like an instapot. They were prepared for the long run. Needless to say a well planned escape for the war veteran who was afraid of losing his family to the pending war. He just didn’t think he would lose his wife before the end. Cherri climbed next to him on the sofa and wrapped herself around him like a koala, finally allowing herself to cry. The tears were bitter and hot. Every now and then the bunker shook and groaned. Each time, they would move a bit closer. Eventually Cherri turned on the radio and began playing the news, they heard about the various attacks and defenses. As updates poured in Cherri turned on a simple spare phone and began texting Rachel, checking in and giving updates.

Days past, the battles were dragging on. Devlin was getting weaker, ten days into the isolation he gave Cherri a big hug and a kiss. Then he said “Bon Cherri, my love. My little wild child, I don’t want you to see me die. It’s my time… I have to leave you.” She started crying and she hugged him tight, she didn’t want to let go, but he finally pried her off and opened the door to the bunker, he went upstairs. Their house, although dusty, was mostly untouched. He packed up the things she loved and brought them downstairs. Games they played together, pictures, paintings. He made trip after trip while she sobbed uncontrollably. He filled the fridge, and the bunker with everything he could, every trinket and jewel that he wanted to protect. When he finished moving what he could he hugged her one more time and reminded her that he would always love her, he would always be in her heart.

Devlin was able to coax her into closing the bunker door and locking it behind him. He went upstairs and sat for a while, before he continued to move things, he boarded up the windows to protect her when she came out. He swept up the glass and tossed out the expired foods. He packed boxes of other foods and brought them down to the basement leaving them outside for when she needed them. When he finished cleaning everything a couple days had passed. He was weaker still. He used what strength he had to pick up Uriel’s body, he’d cleaned up the mess from her before. He carried her to the lake and sat there letting her float out, he boarded a small canoe and set afloat so his precious doll would not need to worry.

Cherri fell into shock for a long time, living on autopilot. Only living strong because she promised. Her tears turned to disbelief. Finally she started texting Rachel, who had stopped answering. Days past, weeks. Suddenly, one day the unread messages showed a read sign.

A simple text came in “Who are you? Where are you?” Fear struck her heart. Cherri was only able to hold on because of Rachel…. If Rachel was gone, she was unsure why she continued fighting. She stared at the screen. Who… Left her on read?

Daring to go upstairs, she went to grandpa's room, it had the best view, she peaked between the boards and her shoulders slumped. The terrain had no other homes, the lake was surrounded by ash and everything was flat or smoldering. Cherri wrapped her arms around her and ran back downstairs, curling up in the bunker. The radio said the airstrikes were less common now, everything is turning into mind games.