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saw a
garbage truck broken down in the middle of the road,
it s doors and hood open, with two garbage
collectors examining the engine.
    “ You all right?” Ken
asked.
    “ Yeah,” she said,
returning to the house. She felt the warm hood of her car as she
walked by, and thought the other car they had in the garage; a red
four-door 1979 Datsun , their bug-out
vehicle. The vehicle they had for a number of reasons: the low gas
mileage. The easy-to-repair-parts. The low-key design. And most
importantly, the lack of computerized components susceptible to
electromagnetic pulses. The more she began to add things up, the
more resolute she became.
    She waved to Ken and went
back inside, straight to the kitchen in search of the Datsun
keys. She opened their miscellaneous
kitchen drawer and searched through tape, pens, markers, receipts,
and finally discovered a key chain with some old keys on it. She
snatched up the keys and went to the garage.
    From what she understood about nuclear
EMPs, they produced damaging electrical currents with the ability
to disable and destroy power grids and electronic components. Upon
impact, high-frequency surges travel to the ground and trigger
electrical components to exceed their voltage.
    A solar flare phenomenon
was something else she had heard about. The sun regularly releases
broad flashes of powerful magnetic rays that, if they reached
Earth, would damage electronics considerably. Whatever had happened, Mila
needed to get moving.
    She stopped at the living
room window when she noticed a man walking by. He looked lost and
out of place. His hair was short and
disheveled, and his face looked dirty. He wore a blue mechanic’s
jumpsuit and walked with a slight limp. A cigarette rested behind
his left ear.
    He glanced at the house and then kept
walking. Mila backed away from the window, out of fear of being
seen. After a moment passed, she took a quick look and didn’t see
anyone. She raced through the living room toward the garage and
opened the door, instinctively flipping the light switch. There
wasn’t even a spark.
    She walked inside the
darkened garage passed a large shelving unit on the side of the
garage stocked with canned goods and emergency food kits. The
dust-covered Datsun was right across from the shelves. Her hands
clutched the door handled and pulled open the squeaky
driver ’s side door. She sat on the smooth
vinyl seat as its rusty springs squeaked.
    “ OK, here we go,” she
said, putting the key in the ignition.
    With one turn, the engine sputtered to
life. It choked and heaved as black exhaust blasted out of the
tailpipe. Mila pressed her foot against the gas pedal as the
dashboard lit up with a barrage of engine lights. Excitement
gripped her heart.
    But there was so much to be done, she
didn’t even know where to start. If an EMP was at play, she knew
the plan: they’d bug-out to the mountains. The most important
thing, she knew, was getting the kids.
    She revved the engine
while examining the fuel gauge. They were at half a tank. They
would need more to drive to the city and back. She turned the ignition off. It was time to get Rob,
get the kids, and move on to the bug-out phase. Surprised by how
naturally the thoughts came to her, she felt in control. Whatever
happened had happened. The question was, what was she going to do
about it?
     
    There was running water, still warm.
Mila took a quick shower and got ready as fast as she could. She
threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, put on a pair of sneakers,
and opened their closet.
    Inside was there biometric safe. She
unlocked the safe and looked for her snub nose .38 Special
revolver. It rested there next to their passports and an envelope
containing five hundred dollars in cash. She grabbed the revolver,
shut the safe, and looked around. There was something
else.
    She suddenly remembered the radios.
Next to some boxes on the floor was a protective metal case with
several high-frequency handheld radios and one emergency