EMP Causality , livre ebook

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106 pages

English

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Ann, a Massachusetts state trooper, loaded her duffle bag, extra ammunition, and supplies in the back of the Humvee. Camille, a middle-aged full-figured woman of African descent is riding shotgun. She carries a heavy heart. Her purpose on this trip is to inform her sister that her son was killed by a roving gang. William is sitting in the back seat next to Fred. He is a caregiver for his client Fred, a heavyset challenged man in his late seventies. William is desperately, almost neurotically, trying to seek medical help for Fred. Since the EMP strike, Fred has been without the proper medication for diabetes and high blood pressure. The four in the Humvee are on a perilous journey halfway across the country, to a "tent city" near the Mississippi River, a long ways from Boston. Through each bend and turn, they meet some people in need and others who have evil in their souls. Four unlikely heroes in a Humvee, on an unlikely trip-the recipe for a captivating story.

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Publié par	Book Venture Publishing LLC
Date de parution	20 juillet 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781643480459
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0147€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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EMP CAUSALITY

Michael Kravitz
Copyright © 2018 by Michael Kravitz.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
BookVenture Publishing LLC 1000 Country Lane Ste 300 Ishpeming MI 49849 www.bookventure.com Hotline: 1(877) 276-9751 Fax: 1(877) 864-1686
Ordering Information: Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number 2018946889 ISBN-13: Softcover 978-1-64348-043-5 Pdf 978-1-64348-044-2 ePub 978-1-64348-045-9 Kindle 978-1-64348-046-6
Rev. date: 06/22/2018
Dedication
To Ricky and Laurie Waters, whom I have both known for a long time. Also, to my brother Barry Kravitz, Jane Moshy, and Nick—all of whom encouraged me to write this n ovel.”
Introduction
The snow and freezing rain was coming down at a pretty good clip. I was on a plane at the Moscow international airport. Out on the tarmac, there was a single operator with a handheld hose. It took him several minutes to defrost the one wing. The knot is my stomach began to churn. Is this surreal or what? The freezing rain seemed to be falling as fast as he was defrosting it. Next, he moved his cart to the other wing. At this point I could have used a stiff drink. You know, my last rights. Instead of “Sully landing in the Hudson,” I imagined Michael ending his journey in a fiery crash while departing from Ru ssia.
Sitting next to me was a Swedish businessman. I asked him if this is no rmal.
He said, “Once the jet is in the air, the ice will dissipate. Things could be worse; we could be flying an aeroflot airplane. Kid ding.”
I looked at him. “Do you like playing Russian roulette?” He smiled. We talked at length. It was his impression that many Americans like to know what a person does for a living. They judge people by their wealth. He prefers to know the person, the places they travel, their hobbies, languages, education, type of family, etc.
I traveled to Russia in the winter. Being saddened after being let down by people I trusted, and deeply in debt, I needed to get away for a new prospective. Yes, a nice Caribbean trip, drinking a pina colada would be relaxing. The old saying “Misery likes its own com pany.”
Traveling alone, I saw a lot. Taking a train ride from Saint Petersburg to Moscow, I met an old lady who spoke broken English. I hired her to be my transl ator.
For over ten days, I met a lot of normal Russian people. Their dress code was usually gray and a little depressing. At train stops, I saw military veterans looking for handouts, many of them with missing limbs due to the Afghan war.
The government had very little funds to take care of them the right way.
I have also traveled throughout Europe, Scandinavia, and Africa—never as a tourist but alone or with friends. Traveling as a tourist can be educational and safe. Still, you lose the real flavor of the people and their cul ture.
My third book, An EMP Casualty , is a sequel to my other two b ooks,
Boston Darkens and Boston Flickers. I have met a lot of ordinary people both here and abroad. Using characteristics from these people, I decided to throw them in a large bin. Slowly, like a Christmas grab bag, I found a place for each different chara cter.
Using a cookie-cutter approach, I cut a little section in a Boston metro west town. Actually, it could be any town in the USA. The story involves a major catastrophe: an EMP blast that sets our way of life back to the 1800s. With a few twists, I could have chosen an upper class, lower class, or maybe just people without any kind of class (we all know them). I chose mostly the lower-middle class, the forgotten Ameri cans.
Do we really know our neighbors? Ever wonder who are these people who live near you? Do they have the same problems and desires as you? Hmmm, enquiring minds want to know. I feel you will enjoy the mixture of people that come together in this neighborhood Collaborative. Their sole purpose is surv ival.
The union man, who feels the government is the be all and end all for the masses. The divorcee, with her daughter. After a bad marriage, she needs a better environment for her daughter. The construction man with his two strapping sons, salt of the earth. They do a hard day’s work and have a few beers at night. A “drunk” who lives like a hermit in a broken-down house. Yet no one knows why he drinks so much. The neighbors assume he is destitute. Their assumptions are wrong. A neurotic man. He eats like a bird and takes care of a challenged man. The challenged man. We all see them in our lives, but we don’t understand them. In this book, I have taken this challenge man, and showed you the reader how he might react to an EMP blast. I have also taken a mother and daughter, who have lived in the projects. They are ordinary Americans, of African descent, who are trying to better themselves. They are close friends with main characters in the books, the Randal fa mily.
As in the first two books, the Randal family are transplants from Nebraska, living the classic dream. Ben works as a microbiologist and his wife is a schoolteacher. Their son is a talented auto mechanic. The love of his life is his classic red Buick. Without a new electronic ignition system, it is one of only a few running vehi cles.
Trouble in paradise. Their daughter, Jessica, becomes involved with an older and refined man. The EMP blast has given this insecure teenager a feeling of being cheated. She wants to live the life of an independent woman. Without rhyme or reason, she sees an illusion of happiness and fulfillment with this man. The Randal family has been torn apart. Ben has enough on his plate. Ben founded the collaborative. It needs him for their surv ival.
Besides the needs of the insecure teenager girl, there are also the needs of the challenged man. the needs of Camille, a close friend to the Randal’s. She is of African descent, a collaborative member whose sister lost her only son due to violence. There are road trips and encounters with thugs and biker gangs. The journey they take will not only be filled with emotion and drama, it will also captivate you to the end.
I have used a little dry humor and a few times I have gone off the reservation. I do this to give you the reader a little break. Like in a Greek tragedy, humor is needed to keep us sane. Without further ado, let the story cont inue.
Another EMP Casualty: An Uneasy Homecoming
Jessica unleashed her backpack. The weight of it seemed to grow as she put the thing down to catch her breath. She and Joshua had been on a long roller coaster ride of emotions. All this was more of a wearing exercise than she was accustomed to. Gym class used to be just an hour of strenuous effort followed by a refreshing shower. But, since the EMP blast, everything slowed down to a strenuous standstill without the shower. Looking for food and surviving the various gangs were now the priority exercises. There was a lot weighing on Jessica`s mind. She missed her parents, school friends, and simple things that only electricity can provide. Without the distraction of light, it was difficult to hide from the void that went deep inside her soul.
“Can I help you?” interrupted a tall and burly border guard. His fatigue uniform was cleaned and pressed. He hadn’t shaved in several days. With a rifle smartly strung over his shoulder, he had the look of a seasoned soldier. When he approached, the effect was a little intimida ting.
“We are on a journey home, and we just arrived this morning from Tent City,” quipped Joshua as he watched Jessica undo her long hair. Putting his bag down, he had to be prepared both emotionally and physically for the next leg of his jou rney.
The border guard held a clipboard in his hands. It outlined the bounds of the next portion of their journey. The small area that they were about to leave was like a green zone. It was a secured area extending from Boston’s government center (near the waterfront) to several miles outward. Here, within this “green zone,” one could get food, water, and current informa tion.
The outer wall was a demarcation of civility. Beyond the walls lay da nger.
It was the Wild West. Roving gangs, fires, and a littered landscape sent a strong signal, a feeling of dread for all who entered. The EMP strike caught everyone off guard. A huge reset button had taken a large part of the country into darkness. The grid no longer functioned. The government was unprepared to handle a disaster of this magni tude.
Waiting for relief, minutes became hours. Hours became days. Soon, the good and bad of human nature bubbled up. A new reality had surf aced.
Government became a skeleton of its original self. The logistics of feeding, providing medical services and security support for millions without a robust information update mechanism, was unrealistic. The nanny state had become unglued. You might say the circuits of government shorted out into a huge pile of poo.
Ah Joshua, dear Joshua. He was a young and strapping man. In his early twenties, he had the gift of gab, the personality, and the looks to match. His self-confidence was false to the extent that it had not yet been tempered down by the test of fire. Speaking several languages led to an unfair advantage over other competing salespeople. Like his father, he was a people person. Selling came natural to him. Seeing the success of his father tainted him. College bor