2141 Zulu: A coal-fired power plant in Avon Lake, Ohio, went out of service.
2155 Zulu: The nuclear reactor in Perry, Ohio, shut down automatically, after losing power.
2200 Zulu: Systems from Detroit to New Jersey and Canada, including all of New York City, shut down.
That was followed by a massive power outage that first covered the northeast, then cascaded across all the power grids in the entire nation, so that by 2315 Zulu, or 6:15 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time, the entire nation from Canada to Mexico, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, was blacked out. Only the tiniest communities that were not a part of the national grid, and who still had enough fuel to operate their generators, still had power. The loss of power took almost all television and radio broadcasts off the air. It also interrupted all communication between Fort Rucker and the Department of the Army. There was no longer any telephone, wire, or even Internet connection between Fort Rucker and the Department of Defense. Although the on-base telephones were still working, they were limited to on-base calls only. There was no longer any military cohesion. The few soldiers who remained wandered around the base without direction or purpose.
Bob Varney was sitting on the couch in his living room watching the local news from the one television station that continued to operate in Mobile. How different the news was now with only one announcer and one camera. No longer were any of the features presented where the TV station would find people who had contributed to the news, either by participation in some newsworthy event, or by some odd little quirk that would often elicit a chuckle from the viewers. Those features had been eliminated because there was no longer enough fuel to allow the news reporters to go into the field.
“Jesus,” Bob said in disgust. “We are begging now. Can you believe that, Ellen? Our country has been reduced to the point of begging. I never thought I would live to see this day.”
“You shouldn’t watch the news,” Ellen said. “It gets you so upset that I’m afraid you might have a stroke.”
“There is no baseball to watch anymore and the only thing else on the satellite channels—that is, the ones that are still broadcasting—are reruns. And there are virtually no commercials because there are so many companies out of business. Who would have ever thought that I would long for the time when there were commercials?”
The television suddenly went black.
“Bob, the power just went off,” Ellen said from the kitchen.
“It will probably be back on in a minute or so,” Bob replied. “There’s no storm or anything, no reason why it went off.”
“Why don’t you start the generator, at least long enough for me to finish cooking supper?”
“I hate to waste the gas,” Bob said. “Hurricane season is here. You know how it was with Ivan and Katrina. We were without power for two weeks.”
“Yes, but I also know how hard it is to get food now,” Ellen replied. “If I don’t keep cooking this now, it won’t be any good.”
“All right, I’ll start the generator.”
The generator was all the way downstairs, run by a large tank of propane gas. Bob started it, then came back upstairs.
“Stove going again?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Maybe I can watch the rest of the news now.” He turned the TV back on, but the local television channel was black.
“Damn, they must be out of power in Mobile too. That’s funny; we don’t normally get power outages that go that far.”
Bob swept through the channels but got nothing from any of them.
“I wonder if something happened to our satellite dish?”
“Try the radio,” Ellen suggested.
Bob turned on the radio and got nothing on either the AM or the FM band.
“Damn, there’s nothing on the radio either, not a thing. I’m going to try satellite radio.”
Bob had a satellite radio upstairs in his office. It was there for two reasons: one, because it was the best place for his antenna, and the second, because he liked to listen to classical music as he was writing. As he started upstairs, Charley ran up the stairs ahead of him, then got into his position under the desk.
“I know, I know, I haven’t written in a couple of weeks have I, Charley?” Bob said. “But I’m going to get back to it, I promise. Now I’m just going to see what I can find on the radio.”
He found nothing.
“Something has happened,” he said to Ellen as he came back into the kitchen. “It’s not normal that every radio and television station be off the air.”
“It’s not normal?” Ellen asked. “Tell me anything that has been normal since Ohmshidi took office.”
Charley reared up to put his two front paws on Bob’s leg. Bob picked him up and Charley began kissing him.
“Charley,” Bob said. “Charley is normal.”
“Supper is ready,” Ellen said, putting the plates on the table.
“Fried chicken. Looks good,” Bob said.
“That’s the end of our chicken,” Ellen said. “And I don’t know if there will be any more. As you recall, when we were in the store it was practically empty. I got as much as I could because I think it’s only going to get worse.”
“I think so too,” Bob said. He picked up a drumstick. “But I intend to enjoy it while we have it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the Post Headquarters, General von Cairns sat in his swivel chair staring out through the window at the open parade ground and empty flagpole. He took another pull from his bottle of whiskey.
“You drink too much,” his wife had told him. “Ever since you came back from the war, you drink too much.”
“It helps me forget.”
“Forget what?”
“What I want to forget.”
Those discussions about drinking were the beginning of the problems that only got worse in his marriage. Then, two years ago, Kitty left him. But because their daughter was already married and gone, the breakup wasn’t that traumatic.
Von Cairns looked over at his bookshelf, filled with various artifacts that cataloged his time in the Army.
