School’s Out: EMP Survival in a Dying World, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental., DECEMBER 2022. Copyright © 2022. All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Kindle Direct Publishing This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Jack Hance is a pen name created by the author for post-Apocalyptic projects.
Hance, Jack. School’s Out: EMP Survival in a Dying World (EMP Survival in a Dying World, Book 1). Kindle Edition.
Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act. Action will delineate and define you.
Thomas Jefferson
"We tend to think of human trafficking as a foreign issue, not something that could happen here in our own back yards. But it's a fast-growing problem in the United States, in every area, with no real defined demographic."
Lori Foster
School’s Out: EMP Survival in a Dying World
Chapter 1
Brooksville, Florida
Tuesday, November 7, 9:23 AM
Loud teenagers filed into the classroom, and even in the act of entering the differences among them were obvious. The good ones took their seats quickly and chatted quietly while finishing their passing period texting. The rest flowed around the room aimlessly, making silly noises and trying to impress their peers. At the bell, Jason Stevens stood and clapped his hands several times.
“Okay, fun’s over. Get in your seats,” he said quietly. “Alicia, that’s not your seat, and you know it.”
“Mr. Stevens, Jeremy isn’t here today, and you let Marie switch yesterday!”
“Marie asked me first, and she does her homework,” Jason replied. “And put the phone away or it’s mine.” With an exasperated sigh and rolling eyes, Alicia Rodriguez slipped her iPhone into a pocket and moved to the end of the row. Her unnaturally jet-black hair had a blue streak on each side, and her top and skirt were clearly out of dress code. She knew her English teacher never harassed kids over that, however, so she was safe for the time being. It was only second period, so her luck would likely change later in the day.
Jason took his spot at the front of the room, leaning against a tall stool. He looked around the room for other infractions of his personal rules, rather than those of the school.
“Lewis, I’m not blind and I can see your phone. Scott, my room is not a cafeteria. Lose whatever you’re eating,” Jason said, pointing to the trash can. Scott made a huffing noise, but he stood and threw away his bag of chips. Lewis’ phone disappeared along with two others.
As kids went at the school, these were pretty good ones. It was Honors English 3, so the real dregs were elsewhere. And despite the whining, most of the kids liked the class, or seemed to.
“Mr. Stevens, you were in the army, right?” Brad Maxwell asked. Brad was a football player and a nice kid and a solid student.
“Rangers, Brad, and a very long time ago. Nice try but we’re continuing with Of Mice and Men, whether you want to or not. I think we were on Chapter 6.”
Minutes later class was interrupted by the intercom, which as always was unbelievably loud. Jason tried not to groan when he heard the principal’s grating voice.
“Happy Tuesday, Panthers! I hope your weekend was great and that you all were out cheering on our football team Friday as they beat the Eagles!” She only mentioned sports teams if one of her sons was on the team. Jason smiled at two girls in the front row who played on the undefeated volleyball team. Christa, their setter, shook her head and threw up her hands.
“As you may have noticed, we have extra security on campus today. With all the recent issues in the area, the district has added extra resource officers at the high schools for your safety. Nothing to worry about, but I would like all our teachers to review our “See something, Say something” policy at this time. Have a great day!”
Jason glanced at his watch. Ten minutes into the period and the order he’d established in the class was gone. The principal was a moron and understood neither that any interruption destroyed the learning mood, nor that telling sixteen-year-olds not to worry had the opposite effect. The kids were shifting around in their seats, and the noise level was rising as they talked over each other.
Jason clapped his hands again. The reaction was less satisfying this time, but he did get the attention of most of the students. Brad raised his hand. Jason nodded, giving him the floor.
“This is what I was asking about, Mr. Stevens. What do you think is going to happen with the demonstrations and stuff? Are we having some kind of war?” Stevens knew that getting them to focus on Steinbeck was now a lost cause, so he decided to try to give a response more meaningful than the school’s stupid awareness initiative.
The room was stone silent, and all eyes were on him, the stress and fear palpable.
“The best answer I can give you, Brad is that I don’t know. I grew up in a country that disagreed and argued, but could still come together in a crisis, like the Challenger disaster or 9/11. That isn’t happening today. The Chinese are making moves on Taiwan and the Russians are threatening Poland again, but all it does is give everyone more reason to hate their countrymen. This goes for both sides, Republicans and Democrats.” Jason looked at the kids and knew these divisions were in this room as well. Florida was as divided as any state in the union, and this school was in a poor area in a mostly conservative, borderline rural county north of the Tampa – Clearwater area.
“The demonstrations are probably going to get worse before they get better. People have been angry since the last elections, and that’s not improving. No one’s listening to reason anymore,” Jason said sadly. Demonstrations had shut down major streets in the area, and in one case a mob had turned violent and there’d been serious injuries.
“They’re just a bunch of Nazis,” Alicia Rodriguez said angrily. “The cops should shoot all those skinheads and bikers.” A handful of kids started to stand up, ready to respond.
“That’s it, all of you!” Jason said, raising his voice. The kids looked shocked because he never yelled at them. “Let’s all sit down and calm down. Open your books to Chapter 7 and spend the rest of the period reading for tomorrow. And I mean it, no more talking.”
“Can we turn out part of the lights, please?” Marie asked.
“Sure, Marie. Just half, though.” Marie was a quiet kid and was right, dimming the lights a little helped calm the room.
Chapter 2
Brooksville, Florida
Tuesday, November 7 11:15 AM
Jason usually ate lunch with a group of teachers, and it was a high point of the day. He didn’t like all of them, but at least they were entertaining. As they settled in, the discussion quickly turned to that morning and the disrupted second period.
“Did anyone get any work out of the kids after that stupid announcement?” asked one of the history teachers.
“What the hell does that awareness bullshit have to do with the fact that everyone’s going crazy out there?” This came from an older teacher, Ron Johnson. “I had kids in tears because of that idiot interrupting and talking about cops on campus and the riots.”
“The demonstrators are hardly the problem, Ron,” said George Rapien, their resident hard liner and conspiracy theorist. He fancied himself a tough teacher. “They’re patriots, trying to save this country from the libtards.”
“You mean people like me?” Jason asked, smiling as he took his seat with his microwaved lunch. He stared at George, hoping he would respond. Jason wasn’t really very liberal, but he didn’t take shit from George. Rapien was a bully who preferred picking on students in his classes who couldn’t fight back.
“What’cha got today, Jason. It smells good!” Jason looked to his left at Sophie Montoya, a fellow English teacher and his best friend at work. He appreciated the attempt to diffuse things.
“Spaghetti with peppers and Italian sausage. Made it myself,” Jason replied. “Want some? I’ve got plenty.” She reached over with her fork.
“Maybe just a taste.” She speared a chunk of sausage. “Say, George, why are you picking on Alicia Rodriguez? Leave the girl alone.” This was the Alicia from Jason’s second period Honors class.
“She was out of dress code, clearly! That skirt was practically up to her butt,” George protested. “Rules are rules.”
“It was an inch short, George,” Sophie said. “The poor girl barely has a family, and her clothes are hand-me-downs from a sister four inches shorter than she is.”
“Well, her boobs were practically hanging out of that shirt, too,” George said, gesturing with his hands at his own chest.
“Gee George, you’re paying an awful lot of attention to her boobs.” Sophie was starting to get angry, which was dangerous. She reached for another taste of Jason’s spaghetti. George was turning beet red as he stood and started to pack up his lunchbox.
“Well, mark my words, we all better pay attention to the damned Chinese. If they ever wanted to take us out, now’s the time. We’re so busy fighting each other, they could knock us over with a feather.” He turned to leave, still blushing.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with, George.” Jason replied.
On their way back to class, Jason stopped Sophie in the hall.
“Was that true about Alicia?” he asked. “That she doesn’t have clothes that fit?”
“Absolutely. The girl was mortified when Rapien dress-coded her.”
Jason thought about it. He was lucky because he had money from his first career in banking. He didn’t have to live on his salary like the other teachers, who made less than garbage collectors.
“You’re still on that ABC committee, right?” he asked. Sophie nodded. “Isn’t that what they do, help poor kids?”
“Yeah, but we’ve got no money for buying clothes, Jason.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a sheaf of currency.
“Here. Use this. Just don’t tell Alicia where you got it. She’s in my second period,” Jason said quietly, slipping her the money.
“You’re an old softy, Jason. This’ll do it. I might even offer to help her pick some stuff out.” She pocketed the cash. Jason pulled another fifty dollars out and handed it to her.
“Help her do something about that hair, too,” he said, smiling.
They continued toward their rooms, as Jason admired Sophie’s form from behind. Sophie was seven years younger than Jason, just turning forty. Alicia would love fashion advice from Sophie, she was the best dressed teacher at the school and a renowned hottie. Even though she was a tough teacher, all the boys wanted to be in her classes.
Chapter 3
Brooksville, Florida
Tuesday, November 7 3:20 PM
Jason was relieved when the school day ended without further problems. The thirty-five minutes after the kids left and before teachers were allowed to leave were the best of the day. That was a plus of teaching at a poor school; there were almost never parent conferences after school. As Jason relaxed, he did a little light grading and thought about lesson plans for the rest of the week. A knock at the door startled him, but he smiled as he saw Sophie peeking through the window. The door opened and she entered, smiling.
“I talked to Alicia, and she was thrilled. She was embarrassed at first, but I made up something about an ABC initiative to cut down on dress code violations. We’re going shopping on Thursday after school,” she said. “This is so nice of you.”
“That’s great. Just don’t let her know about me, Jason said. “I have a reputation to maintain.” He stood and picked up his backpack.
“Reputation my ass,” Sophie snorted. “Your kids know you love them.”
On his drive home Jason was happy, thinking about the Alicia news. Not even the assholes marching around with signs at the major intersections could darken his mood. Jason didn’t even notice what they were protesting today. It never seemed to matter, there was always something in the news that got the extremists riled up, ready to blame and hate. He eventually reached his subdivision and turned in.
Jason loved his neighborhood. All the lots were large, most with five acres, and many even had livestock. It was around a mile from the entrance to Jason’s property, with a left turn, then a right onto his street. There were mature live oaks everywhere, shading the streets and houses. He pulled into his driveway, past the open gate. The front of the property was walled, with four-foot wrought iron sections between seven-foot posts, on top of three-foot concrete block base walls. While the whole five acres was enclosed only the front was walled, the rest was five- or six-foot chain link. It felt secure.
The house wasn’t new, but Jason had done a lot of work on it in the seven years he owned it. It was bigger than he needed but with two grown sons in the area, Jason liked having the space. His three dogs agreed. They greeted him enthusiastically as he entered; it was good to be home. The rest of the week went quickly, and Friday was a “teacher day,” with no students at school. Sophie reported that her Thursday night makeover date with Alicia went well, but she gave no details.
Chapter 4
Brooksville, Florida
Monday, November 13, 9:20 AM
The following Monday not much had improved. The weekend had seen even more violent demonstrations and some looting. Two cops had been badly injured. There was still enhanced security on campus. First period was uneventful; it was a “regular” English class, and only half of the students were even there. Jason’s second period Honors kids came in, more subdued than normal. When Alicia Rodriguez walked in you could’ve heard a pin drop. Her hair was shorter, a warm dark brown with blonde highlights, nicely layered. She was wearing a cute pink blouse and new tight jeans, with a pair of pink Vans sneakers. She looked amazing.
“Who’s the new kid?” asked Evan, a basketball player. “She’s hot.”
“That’s Alicia!” said Hailley. “You go girl!” Hailley Harken was a cheerleader but was still nice to everyone. Alicia was blushing as she found her seat, the correct one. Several girls surrounded her, gushing about her makeover. Jason got the class settled and they had a productive period. Alicia had read the assigned chapters and participated enthusiastically, giving opinions on the use of dialogue in Of Mice and Men.
Two periods later Jason was getting ready to go to lunch when he noticed Alicia in the doorway.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked.
“Sure, Alicia, come on in.” She walked over and stood for a moment, looking nervous.
“Ms. Montoya told me you gave her the money for my new clothes,” she said. “Why? Why would you help me like that?” Her eyes were glistening with tears.
“Alicia, you needed help and I could afford it. And you look great!”
“Yeah, but I haven’t even been good in your class this year, and I was kind of mean sometimes.” She was staring at her new sneakers.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jason said. “You’re doing better now. Did you get more outfits?”
“Did I! You should see all the great clothes and stuff. I’ll be wearing something new all week,” she said, beaming. “The other kids have been making a big deal about me, and that Evan kid tried to ask me out.”
“And?” Jason asked.
“I told him to get lost. He didn’t give me the time of day before.”
“Smart girl. Well, we both better get to lunch. I need to kill Ms. Montoya.”
“Don’t blame her, Mr. Stevens. I made her tell me,” she said. “And thank you again. This is the nicest thing anyone ever did for me. My family sucks.” She rushed Jason and gave him a very unprofessional hug, then ran out of the classroom. Jason took a minute to collect himself, then headed for lunch.
During fifth period and for the rest of the day, the school went into lockdown. There was no word as to the cause. Jason sat in his room with his fifth period kids for over two hours, in the dark. He didn’t mind a bit.
It took nearly an hour to get home, because crowds of protesters were blocking traffic on all the major roads. There had been demonstrations for weeks, but something about these seemed… unhinged. It was broad daylight during the work week. The protesters didn’t stay on the side of the road but ran out into traffic with their signs and flags. Some even had clubs. For some reason they seemed to mainly pick on electric vehicles, like several Prius and one poor guy in a Tesla. Jason was feeling seriously rattled by the time he got home.
Even though it was still early, he closed and locked the front gates. Rather than leave his car in the driveway like he usually did, he pulled behind the detached garage and workshop, and onto the paved parking apron located further back on the property. The dogs seemed confused that Jason was coming in that way but were still happy to see him. The two huge golden retrievers, perpetual puppies, begged for attention, while the much smaller border collie ran circles around him.
“Buddy, Buster; stay down! And you get away from my shoelaces, Rascal!” They ignored him of course, as he walked onto the patio and entered the house from the rear. Jason filled their water bowl and gave them their afternoon treats before collapsing on the family room couch and turning on the flatscreen television to get some news. The dogs all joined him on the couch, fighting for space. Jason clicked through the guide until he found a 24-hour news channel that was reasonably neutral.
The announcers showed clip after clip of demonstrations, which were going on in most of the country. This week it was because of the result of a high-profile trial. The channel switched to coverage of Jason’s home state of Florida because it was a flashpoint, and because the governor was charismatic. He was always good for a soundbite, so the news media paid attention. Today, Governor Wilson seemed to be under growing pressure to call out the National Guard to restore order. In much of central Florida, businesses were shutting down to escape the violence, and the schools were talking about closing. No announcement had come from Tallahassee, but something seemed imminent.
