Hideaway: An Emp Thriller- Book 1 Read online

  Hideaway: An EMP Thriller Book 1

  Roger Hayden

  Contents

  Hideaway- Book 0

  1. Fragments

  2. Ground Zero

  3. Evacuation

  4. Fuel Stop

  5. Arrival

  6. Day Two

  7. Tension Rising

  8. A New Plan

  9. Crossing Borders

  10. Farmhouse

  11. Tracks

  About the Author

  Copyright 2018 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

  Created with Vellum

  Hideaway- Book 0

  Download the FREE Prequel on Amazon- Click Here

  James and Marla Weller lead normal lives in their quaint St. Louis suburb. But on one seemingly uneventful Friday morning, everything changes in an instant after an aerial blast causes a massive blackout through their city. Stranded at a gas station, James discovers that the power grid isn’t the only thing disabled. His car and cell phone won’t work either, and he’s far from the only one. News travels of a bomb threat downtown where his wife is working, and James must get there by any means to find her. His dangerous journey is only the beginning of a mass evacuation that follows. Can he save Marla in time, or will they unable to escape the imminent threat that looms over them? Find out how the story begins in the exciting prequel of a real-world disaster come alive.

  Download the FREE Prequel on Amazon- Click Here

  1

  Fragments

  ** *The Free prequel is available in the front matter and TOC of this book***

  Marla woke in the dead of night with little idea of where she was. From the back seat of a moving car, darkened billboards passed by on the quiet highway. The steady, rhythmic bounce rocked her forward as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Headlights beamed onto the road in front, illuminating their path. But there were no other lights or cars to be seen. There were boxes and plastic bins stacked to her side, filling the rest of the back seat. The hatch behind was loaded up as well. She recognized the car. She was in Larry Atwood's station wagon.

  A blanket had been placed over her along, with a pillow behind her head. She was even buckled in, but she had no memory of how she had gotten there. Larry was driving. He had helped Marla and her husband, James, escape the city earlier that morning. She could barely wrap her mind around all that had happened. James was in the seat in front of her.

  They weren't talking, and neither seemed to notice that she had awoken. But the main question on her mind was how she had gotten there. Her recollection was hazy. She checked her jean pockets for her cell phone but couldn't find it. Her purse was also gone. Son of a...

  She remembered the unexpected blackout that had besieged St. Louis and the explosions that had followed. There had been some kind of attack on the city. Terrorism was suspected. She had never experienced anything like it. She and James had gone to Larry's store downtown. He was lucky enough to have a working vehicle. After the blackout, so many people didn't. She recalled the chaotic drive home in Larry's wagon. Now she was back in the same vehicle and it was nighttime.

  The entire horrible day flooded back to her: the mass hysteria outside the courthouse, the bodies in the road after the second explosion, and the fear that gripped her and the entire city. It was the kind of fear she hadn't known existed, a fear of annihilation. There was no sense to any of it. One moment, she was at work, and then everything literally stopped. Downtown had descended into madness.

  Vehicle engines cut off as though their batteries had been yanked out in an instant. A cacophony of collisions followed, cars crashing into one another when their drivers lost control. Marla couldn't get the sounds of crushed metal and plastic out of her head or the cries and screams that followed. She couldn't get the smell of smoke off her clothes either, smoke that had come from a building fire a few blocks from where she had been conducting an interview. For a moment, she wondered if it had been some awful nightmare.

  They passed a sign for Interstate 55, traveling north. The car's speed ebbed and flowed as Larry swerved around vehicles stopped dead in the road. She remained quiet and hoped to hear what James and Larry were up to. Earlier that day, Larry had made clear his plans to travel to a cabin in Willow Creek, fifty miles outside the city, where his wife was waiting. But Marla had agreed to no such plan and began to suspect that the decision had been made for her.

  Her memory of the day was a confounding blur. She had no idea what time it was or how many hours had passed. She had no idea if her parents were safe, or anyone else for that matter. There was no telling how wide the blackout had spread. Larry believed that the national power grid had been compromised. That's how he had put it.

  St. Louis had been hit with a nuclear electromagnetic pulse, launched upwards of forty thousand feet in the air. Larry owned a survivalist store. As a self-proclaimed “prepper,” he seemed to at least understand what was going on. Her husband James had his own theories too. Whether it had been an attack by a rogue terrorist organization or enemy state, the results were the same. Their lives were in disarray.

  Marla rested her head back and glanced out the window as they passed a rest stop shaded in darkness. Semi-trucks lined the parking lot just as they normally did but without any lights. Their car suddenly jerked to the side, startling everyone inside. Larry cursed under his breath and veered onto the shoulder, avoiding a jackknifed trailer across all four lanes. He then pulled back onto the road where fewer vehicles blocked their way. Larry said something to James about “getting there before morning.” She knew what he was talking about. They were going to Larry's cabin. Marla thought back to the beginning. She was there in downtown St. Louis when it had all started. Soon enough, she was lost in her memories.

  It was a normal Friday morning in the bustling city of St. Louis, Missouri, where some three hundred thousand people were beginning their day. The rising sun peeked over the iconic Gateway Arch amid metropolitan skyscrapers, highways, and urban sprawl along the Mississippi River. Downtown traffic crawled along through every busy intersection and street. Road and building construction droned from block to block, echoing through the air.

  People shuffled past crosswalks and along sidewalks, hurrying to get to work. Children were sent off to school, shifts began, breakfasts were made, and a collective eagerness for the weekend filled the autumn air. Life was moving on, as in any American city. And in about thirty minutes, all of that was about to change.

  Marla Weller stood outside the steps of City Hall with her news crew in wait. Dean, her cameraman, checked his video settings as her assistant, Raul, gathered equipment from the back of their news van. Their segment was about to be broadcast on the Channel 9 morning news. Inside City Hall, a refurbished Information Center was opening. They were interviewing Deputy County Commissioner Gale Redding a day ahead of the grand opening. For Marla, it wasn't exactly a “hard-hitting” segment, but she did the stories she was assigned. She had worked for Channel 9 for over four years, waiting for a story that would accelerate her career.

  “All set,” Dean had said, lifting his video camera to his shoulder.

  Marla slipped in her earpiece, patching her to the station. Raul approached them from the van, with some cables looped over his arm, and handed Marla her microphone. Behind them was the courtyard leading into City Hall, an elegant four-story building. Its grand, Bohemian design resembled an old castle, and was framed by two looming elm trees, growing across from each other in the front.

  Her cameraman looked around as they set up. “Is
he supposed to meet us out here?

  “Inside,” Marla said, listening to her earpiece. “Let's move.” She hurried up the steps to the building and then veered to the left, where the information center was located. The double-door entrance was closed, but she gave it a quick knock and opened it.

  “You there, Marla?” her producer, Kate, said through her earpiece.

  “I'm here,” Marla answered through the lavalier mic on the collar of her dress shirt. She wore a skirt and heels, and had taken special care with her dark hair, brushed back behind long, trimmed bangs. She had applied her own makeup earlier, including the red lipstick she liked to wear on camera, and silver earrings that caught light without being distracting.

  “We're winding down from commercial,” Kate continued. “Be ready.”

  “Got it,” Marla said, hurrying inside.

  Her eyes searched the lobby for the deputy commissioner, but she didn't see anyone. The information center was much bigger than she remembered, especially with its new additions. There was a historical archive, tourist info, computer center, and even a small art gallery. Just past the lobby was a lighted fountain. Classical music played overhead, adding to the sophisticated décor.

  Raul came up to her with a mirror, and she glanced at her reflection just to be sure she looked okay. “How much money do you think they spent on this place?” she asked.

  “More than enough,” Raul said, taking the mirror back. He not only served as her assistant, he was also her driver, technician, and mechanic. He was distinctive looking with his jet-black greaser hair and mustache. They glanced up at some wall-mounted flat screen televisions lined up as if in a sports bar, all playing the same welcome video.

  A group of suited county workers suddenly entered through a glass door, approaching a clerk who was at the desk. Marla searched the group but didn't see the deputy commissioner among them. Dean panned his camera around the elegant lobby, impressed with what he saw.

  “Pretty nice,” he said.

  “You like it?” a voice asked from behind them.

  Marla spun around, surprised but relieved to see the deputy commissioner standing there, a big smile on his round, reddish face. He had on a tweed suit and black tie, and wore his thin blond hair parted to one side. “Pretty nice, right?”

  “Find him yet?” Kate's voice said in Marla's earpiece. “You're on in thirty.”

  Marla extended her hand to the deputy commissioner. “Mr. Redding. It's a pleasure. We're about to go live. Are you ready?”

  A nervous smile flashed across his face as he patted his hair. “Sure. I apologize for the delay. There's some interesting developments going on and--” he suddenly stopped himself and rotated his neck, prepared for the interview. Dean, in his corduroy jacket and green ball cap, took a step back and gave Marla a thumbs up. Marla then noticed a deepening look of worry on the deputy commissioner's face. Her instincts told her that it was more than just nervousness. “Is everything okay?” she asked just as Kate began the countdown into her ear.

  “Sure, sure,” he said, waving her off. “Just got back from a security briefing. I'm sure they're just being overcautious.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, straightening his tie. “We've had dozens of briefs just like it.”

  “Move closer to the mural behind you,” Kate's voice said.

  Marla turned and backed up toward a tiled wall mural of an old colonial settlement and looked into the camera as the deputy followed her lead. She could hear one of the morning news anchors, Terrance Delaney, speaking. “And now, Marla Weller joins us at City Hall for more. Marla?”

  Marla nodded and began speaking. “Yes, Terrance. We're in the new information center, where brochure stands aren't the only thing you'll find. The center was given an extensive makeover, with five impressive additions.” She signaled for Dean to pan through the room. “And as you can see, it looks fantastic. I'm here with the deputy commissioner, Gale Redding. He has been with the county for ten years and was one of the driving visions behind the renovations. Mr. Redding, what can you tell us about this new center?”

  He lowered his cell phone and nervously looked to Marla and the camera. “Yes. We're excited to finally have this ready for our grand opening tomorrow. The public is invited to come join us for free drinks and food, including a, uh... raffle.”

  Kate suddenly spoke in Marla's ear. “What's going on? He’s sweating up a storm.” Marla watched as Redding pulled out a white handkerchief, mid-sentence, and wiped his forehead.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Marla said after he finished. “It's amazing how quickly the refurbishment took place. What was your role in the negotiations?” She tried to stay on topic as he glanced at his cell phone, distracted.

  What was going on with him? His shifting eyes and nervousness were making her concerned. “I apologize,” he said, glancing from the screen. “I'm afraid I have an emergency.”

  Marla continued as best she could in a professional manner. "We understand you're a busy man, Commissioner. What do you think this center will do for the community in the long run?"

  He wasn’t listening, and the interview was finished, regardless. "I'm sorry,” he said. “It's been a pleasure, but I need to go. Thank you." He then simply pivoted to the side and walked off camera, stunning Marla and her team.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Redding halted. “It's nothing. Thank you.” He hurried off toward an elevator in the corner, vigorously pushing the button.

  “It looks like we've caught the deputy commissioner at a busy time,” Marla said, trying to save face. “This is Marla Weller, inviting you to the grand opening of the St. Louis Visitor and Information Center tomorrow morning. Back to you, Terrance.”

  “And... you’re clear,” Kate added.

  Marla yanked out her earpiece and held her arms out in amazement. Dean pointed to the elevator, and she turned to see Redding still standing there. She ran over to him, eager to find out what had happened. Redding turned upon her approach and pressed the elevator button again, in an obvious attempt to escape, but it was moving too slowly for a clean getaway.

  “I do apologize, Mrs. Weller,” he said, “but I've got urgent business.”

  “It's quite all right,” she said, catching her breath. “Our viewers might be a little suspicious though.”

  His eyes widened as he turned to look at her.

  Marla nodded. “My producer told me that they're already getting calls about your abrupt exit.”

  “Okay,” he said in a hushed tone. “I'll tell you what I know, but you didn't hear it from me.”

  “Sure,” Marla said in anticipation.

  “It isn't much,” he was sure to add. “Like I said earlier, we've received some credible information about a potential terrorist attack. Threat level is up, and we're about to alert all departments. Happy?”

  “Where and when?” Marla asked.

  Redding leaned in closer with his friendly facade erased. “If I knew that, I wouldn't be standing around here talking with you.” The elevator door opened and he hurried inside, turning around to address her. “Good day, Mrs. Weller.”

  The doors closed and Marla stood there, thumb on her chin and trying to make sense of it all. She marched back to the lobby where Dean and Raul were waiting with curious expressions.

  “Well. That was weird,” Raul said.

  Dean lowered his camera off his shoulder and placed it onto the floor. “What’s up?”

  “I don't know,” Marla said, looking beyond them to the outside exit. “I think we should go back to the station.”

  Raul glanced at his wristwatch. “We've got to be at Lafayette Park in an hour. Why not just head there?” They had a noon spot, covering the growing use of pesticides among the park's thirty acres.

  “Because something's not right,” she said, walking past them.

  She opened the exit and saw two security guards approaching. She held up her press badge as they step
ped aside and let her through. Dean and Raul soon followed and joined her outside, where a sense of general unease was in the air. Marla took out her earpiece, done with reporting for the moment. She continued toward the courtyard where people were approaching and entering City Hall as though everything was normal. But the sudden increase of security guards around the building soon changed that.

  She looked around as traffic continued to flow from the street. Dean and Raul didn’t ask questions, but it was clear they were confused just the same.

  “We need to hit the road if you want to make it to the next assignment,” Raul said.

  Marla nodded in understanding but gave no response while watching as more and more people filed outside City Hall with security guards at the doors. “Get your camera ready,” she told Dean.

  He lifted his camera up, unsure of where to point it. “What's going on?”

  “Yes, what's going on, Marla?” Raul added.

  “Quiet!” she said with a finger to her lips.

  A stillness in the air drove her to believe that all was not well. The Commissioner’s fears might be real. She was prepared to step in front of the camera and voice her concerns, except nothing about the situation was clear. Agreeing with Raul, she walked down the steps toward their van, parked along the front entry. City Hall no longer interested her. She wanted to get out of there. But first she had to give her boss a heads-up about what Redding had said. And even thought there was no certainty to any of it, she didn't feel safe. And then she heard the blast.

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