LIGHTS OUT

0ver the peaks of the Selkirks, gazing into the night, the sky seemed full of the lights of a thousand distant cities. He took no comfort from the thrifty shelter of Hemlock boughs nor the warming fire that he had hastily scrabbled together. There won’t be train whistles blowing for road crossings tonight. I won’t be hearing them again, he thought.

Jim thought about the day the lights went out. After the rain, the road was still wet yesterday. It was chilly and blustery even for a November afternoon. He remembered it was about four o’clock because he was hurrying north to join some friends for their Anniversary dinner at six. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was grumpy. On the way home from Spokane, just south of the curves on Hwy 95 near MacArthur Lake, the car suddenly quit. There was no power, no lights, no radio and he simply rolled to a stop. The engine had died abruptly; the power steering and brakes were not working. The lights of approaching cars blinked out as they also began simply rolling to a stop wherever they were on the road.

He recalled the cold sweat on his brow as he tried again and again to start the Taurus. Before disabling fear began, anxiety burned deep in his belly, then anger with himself as he was jolted alert by realizing of his dilemma. His urgency to urinate increased as he became thoroughly convinced this was the day he had prepared for but he was not ready. He was supposed to be at home on the day the lights went out.

A bewhiskered young man from the newer black Ford truck in front of him had already raised the hood and was peering in at the motor. Several people gathered together on the road talking excitedly. Nobody seemed to know what was going on. When the short young lady wearing a Gonzaga jacket walked up from the Subaru stopped behind him, he automatically pushed the button to roll down the window then added foolishness to the anxiety he was feeling.
He opened the door. “Pardon me, sir,” she appeared frightened and asked almost pleadingly, “Did your car just die all of a sudden?” “I’m afraid so,” he said, ‘‘Everybody’s car just died.” “How come?” She asked. “I didn’t hear any Angel’s trumpets. Is this sign the Lord has come?” Jim thought she was being ridiculous. Doesn’t the Bible tell us every eye will see him when he comes? “I’m almost sure an EMP device has been used against America.”

“Really? E empty device?” she asked, staring quizzically at him and brushing long straight hair over her shoulder. Jim thought he must have sounded like quite an egghead as he explained to her that a nuclear bomb had exploded high in the atmosphere over the center of our country. That had probably triggered the electromagnetic pulse which disabled every electrical circuit across the country. Cars, phones, computers, every electronic device we depend on is now useless. “I tried to call my Dad in Sandpoint. My I-phone won’t work. I guess we just have to wait for the police.” She said. Jim knew she just didn’t get it and told her she should just start walking back home. Jim recalled how she seemed to become angry and looked at him as if it was his fault.

He recalled using the key to open his trunk after the dash button didn’t work. He removed his Bug-Out-Bag, and his cane. He had enough survival supplies in the bag to last several days. He remembered thinking that following the railroad tracks would be the easiest way to get to Bonners Ferry but he knew he could not walk that far. The pain in his back flared as he started toward the tracks; he stumbled and fell. His dress trousers and coat became soaked even before struggling up the embankment. At the top, he sat for a while; frustrated and thinking that maybe he should just move a little further out of sight, camp for the night and start out tomorrow.
Before starting a fire he dug into his bag for sweat pants and shirt, some cargo pants and a light jacket. He changed out of his wet clothing and put on some dry socks. The ground had been soggy, needles still dripped after the rain, but the area close to the trunk of the large tree he selected was still dry. He gathered a few small branches together, covered them with the Mylar space blanket from his Bug-Out-Bag and secured the shelter to the tree trunk with a hank of Paracord. Knowing how to build a fire quickly came easy for him, but tripping and stumbling were agonizing. He wanted to rest his back and knees. Sticky pitch scraped from a scarred Pine and some smaller, long-dead and dry, lower branches were perfect tinder. A few larger pieces broken from a downed tree against the fallen trunk made his fire last through the night.

Although his knees ached and he was exhausted from yesterday’s effort, he had no plans to linger. As he awaited dawn and another miserable day, he finished the last of the thin soup he had made with beef jerky. It was a cold morning, but at least it wasn’t raining, he thought. Repeatedly since yesterday, he had allowed himself to become immobilized by a deepening depression. He worried about what would happen to Spike, his pampered French bulldog. Jim treated Spike as if he was his child. He had planned on being home by now. Would his neighbors hear Spike barking and care for him? Possibly, he thought, but they were probably having far too many problems of their own to be concerned about him. He had to get to Bonners Ferry, and soon.

He must cover some distance today. Jim deplored not being in better physical shape. He had prepared to hunker down at home when the EMP attack finally came. He knew he was not in shape to walk to Bonners Ferry. An 81-year-old man, Jim was well aware he was obese. He had crippling arthritis in his back and knees and neither could he walk very far nor stand for long because of the nagging pain. He was grateful for the caregiver who came to his home for several days each week. Jim could not even shop for his own groceries without using an electric shopping cart. I should not have gone to Spokane, he thought. For months he had been purchasing and storing extra food, water, and emergency items. Tuesday evenings he attended Emergency Preparedness classes. He became licensed as a ham operator, participated in weekly radio nets with other “Preppers” and stored a spare radio in a Faraday cage. He realized the possibility that an attack from some terrorist group, China, or North Korea seemed inevitable and it would probably come in the form of an E.M.P. He was prepared and hoped to be somewhat comfortable in his little apartment on Caribou Street for quite a while. He agonized that he was not there.

Jim gathered his shelter material and dwindling supplies then started north beside the tracks. How far is it to Bonners Ferry he wondered? Was it maybe fifteen miles or so? If his car was running he could be home in fifteen minutes. He cautioned himself to think in real terms. He grimaced as he recalled the question about how to eat an Elephant; one bite at a time, of course. He decided one step at a time will be my goal, He began to count each painful step. He kept losing track as harrowing pain interrupted his concentration. Was that step eighty-seven? No, I think it might have been eighty-nine, he thought. Come on Jim, you can walk a few yards farther, but the pain in his back and knees told him he must rest. He tried leaning on a tree for a while before sliding down to a sitting position. Oh Father in Heaven, please give me the strength to keep moving. Please take away this pain so that I can move on. He knew what it said in the Bible about asking and receiving, but he could not muster enough faith to believe. He tried to rise and then slumped back down again. But now, as he sat slumped against a tree he wallowed in self-pity. He begged God for a miracle. He knew he had to be able to walk. He again struggled to his feet and after three staggering steps, groaned and fell to his knees; nobody heard him shout, “God help me!” On hands and knees, he crawled a few feet, then tried to rise again. His will could not force his legs to obey. Lying there he labored to throw off his pack then surrendered to the weight of it. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He had gone only the length of a football field from where he had camped.

Am I hallucinating? He wondered. Was that the sound of children laughing? The laughter was getting closer! He struggled to turn on his side and looked south down the tracks. Incredibly, he saw horses coming up the right of way next to the tracks! Two giant brown horses pulled a rubber-tired wagon with a load piled high, covered by a tarp and three grinning children behind the seat. “Whoa!” The burly young driver wearing grimy coveralls and a tan canvas jacket shouted and jumped down. “What’s going on here, Old Timer? Let me give you a hand?” Jim groaned as he allowed himself to be pulled to a sitting position. “Are you hurt?” Jim replied that he was aching and didn’t think he could walk another step but he had to get to Bonners Ferry. “So you must have come from one of those cars stuck on the highway.” “That’s right, camped last night and started off this morning. I have to keep going.” “Well, Old Timer, we can find room for you in the box if you don’t mind riding with my kids.” “Oh thank God! You’re the miracle I’ve been praying for.” “Hey, we’re not Angels, but we’re going right on by Bonners Ferry, and I sure can’t leave an old coot just laying here in the gravel. What’s your name anyway? Here, I’ll help you up.” “Thanks more than you know, Brother! Just call me Jim or whatever pleases you!” “I’m Sam. Those are my kids in the wagon, Sadie, Victor, and Julie. There’s a pile of sleeping bags and such back there the kids are riding on. You can just join them. Let’s get you in there.” Jim was amazed by Sam’s strength as he was hoisted into the wagon. “Here Sadie, you come sit on the seat. You kids make some room back there.” “Hand me that water jug.”

The Belgian draft horses leaned into the harness as they started on their way north. Jim shared a bit about his life, how he had worked in construction, built log homes, and even taught school for a while. Sam told Jim about his brother’s farm. “It’s off the grid up near the Canadian border,” Sam said. “Me and Ernie have been planning to raise our families up there, and it was just coincidence that me and the kids left from Hope the day before yesterday, but we knew someday a big change was going to happen.We’re gonna do alright. I got serious about the move when Esther died from Cancer. I’ve been gathering tools and things farmers used back in the day. There are lots of useful things under the tarp. We have a cultivator, parts for a forge, block and tackle, a pump-jack for the windmill, tarps, even a hydraulic jack and lots of hand tools. Esther was helping us get ready before she died. She was looking forward to living in the country. She gathered up lots of books, canning supplies, seeds, even a loom, and a spinning wheel. Ernie’s been collecting too. I sold our house and started getting ready.”Jim’s mood changed as if the lights had just come back on. “I am sure glad to meet another prepper. Sam, I’ve been prepping too, but I planned to stay put because I don’t get around very well. I have some canned goods and other things I’ve been saving. When do you think we will get to Bonners?” “Maybe tonight if we can keep going, but more likely tomorrow.

Do you have family there?” “Not really, I live alone with a little bulldog. He thinks I’m his Dad.”