Chapter 1
Greg Stern, San Diego, minus 10 hours:
“In ten hours, the world as we know is going to end,” says an urgent voice in Greg’s cell phone. He moves out of the sun’s glare streaming into his office, to see the caller ID. Rakesh Patel, Greg’s Silicon Valley computer-nerd friend, who now works in cyber security at the National Security Agency. He met Rakesh at a Zen retreat and remembers his odd kind of humor, but this is not funny.
“Greg, are you there?”
Apparently, Greg has taken too long recalling Rakesh and his resume.
“Rakesh, what are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?”
“I shouldn’t even be telling you this, and I don’t have time to explain, but you better get your family out of town and bring as much food and gas as you can. Turn off all your electric systems, and hopefully I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Wait, what’s going on?”
“A G5 level CME, the biggest since the Carrington Event. Look, I gotta go.”
“How do you know about this?”
“NOAA warning satellites. It’s confidential. Trust me and leave.” He hangs up.
Greg stands dumbfounded looking at his black cell phone screen. What’s a CME? A Google search informs him that a ‘CME is a significant release of plasma and accompanying magnetic field from the sun’s corona into the heliosphere. When reaching the earth’s magnetosphere, it can cause geomagnetic storms and damage to the power grid.’ If it is large enough, it can fry the entire electric grid. For good.
“Shit.” If Rakesh is right, this is a global disaster. Rakesh is super smart, an expert in analyzing and identifying cyber-attacks on computers and other digital systems. He’s a big shot now, working for the government to identify threats to America’s digital infrastructure. His information is probably accurate.
Greg sits down at his large wooden desk. It’s cluttered with piles of papers and requests he should be dealing with to run his private security company. An image of a giant solar flare licking through space flashes through his mind. The flare reaches earth and burns the continent of Australia. Greg shakes himself out of his nightmare vision. It is time to act.
“Vega,” he calls his wife as he prepares to storm out of the office. “Pack up all the food we have and all the clothes you need for the next few months. We have to go up to the cabin immediately.”
“What do you mean? I can’t just drop everything. I have client meetings, I’m in the middle of …”
“Stop Vega. There’s no time. We have to get out. I’ll call my mother, sister in Palm Springs. You call the boys and tell them to come to the cabin right away and bring food and clothing.”
“Why? You make no sense.”
“I’m coming home. We are on the brink of a global disaster. Tell the boys a CME is going to hit in ten hours. They’ll understand.”
“What does it mean? You’re scaring me.” Her voice is spiraling higher and higher. Greg doesn’t want her to panic. Not now.
“Please Vega try to calm down, I’ll explain later. We can’t waste any time. I’ll get supplies on my way.”
“How do you know about this?”
“Rakesh told me. But it’s strictly confidential.”
Before she can say anything else, Greg hangs up the phone and walks out into the front office where his associate is working.
“Lisa, I have to leave for an emergency. You can take the day off.”
“Why Mr. Stern?” She looks at him with astonishment and alarm.
“Just go home to your family.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.
Vega: minus 9 hours
With shaking hands, Vega dials Daniel’s cell phone number. He’s at the office of the Environmental Defense Council, where he is in charge of all technical and digital matters. He answers.
“What’s up, mom? I’m at work.”
“I know. Sorry to interrupt, but your dad says you have to come to the cabin right away and bring clothes and food.”
“Why?”
“A CME or something is going to hit earth in nine hours.”
“A CME? Did he say what level? G4 or G5?”
“You know what that is? Dad didn’t have time to explain.”
“It’s a powerful solar storm, Mom. At the highest level the geomagnetic gamma rays destroy the entire global electric grid.”
“I’m so confused. Is this a real thing? Can this really be happening? He says pack up clothes and all your food and shut everything off.”
“It’s real and plausible. Nine hours. Got it. I’m bringing Lin. I can’t leave her behind. How does dad know?”
“Rakesh told him and it’s confidential.”
“Because of mass hysteria?”
“I don’t know. What about all the people?”
“Start packing, mom. I’ll see you at the ranch.”
Daniel hangs up. Vega notices her pulse has accelerated to a fluttering pace. She runs her hands through her blond hair. Daniel has confirmed the gravity of this event. A terrible, a global disaster. She takes a deep breath and calls her younger son, Stevie
Stevie: Downtown Los Angeles; minus 8 hours
“Guys, we’re three shots behind schedule! Let’s pulls this thing together! What’s the matter with lighting? Adjust the spotlight on the dancers? What happened to Lee’s make-up? Make-up people, fix the smudges under her eyes.”
He looks around the spacious University of Southern California sound stage he rented for this music video. The band is getting restless, while the dancers put the finishing touches on their outfits and make-up. The drummer is doing a drum-roll to speed things up. The lead dancer in a skin-tight black leotard is doing cartwheels and a split to warm up for his routine. The three back-up singers in silver lamé costumes are giggling and fussing with their teased Donna Summer-style hairdos. It’s chaotic, but Stevie loves it. So much energy, so much talent, so much dynamic interaction, going in all different directions. It’s his job to channel it all into a seamless performance and capture it in film. No mean feat, but when it happens, it’s magic.
“Okay, we’re ready …”
His phone rings.
“Hold on—give me a second please!” Stevie picks up. “Mom, I can’t talk. I’m in the middle of a production. It’s crazy here.”
His mom has no idea what it’s like here, but he usually tries to answer her calls.
“Stevie, I know you’re very busy, but your dad is adamant that you come up to the cabin immediately.”
“That’s impossible, we are already behind schedule!”
“This is an emergency.”
“Did something happen?”
“A giant solar storm will hit earth.”
Stevie looks around the set impatiently. The make-up person is fixing the smudge under Lee’s eye.
“Stevie, catch the next train to San Diego asap. We’ll meet you at the station.”
“Mom, I’m producing a music video. I can’t leave!” What is she thinking?
“A CME will strike in eight hours! If you don’t come down here right away, we can’t help you.”
“What about my work? A lot of people depend on me here.”
“Apparently no one will be able to watch your video once all the power is out!”
“Are you serious? How does he know?”
“It’s a warning from NOAA, he knows it from a trustworthy source in the government.”
“Shit, Mom, if that’s true it is a catastrophe of global proportions!”
“Keep your voice down. We can’t tell anybody!”
“Why? What will happen to all the people?”
“Stevie, we can’t discuss this now, the time is ticking! Get here now.”
“Okay, forget the train, I’m taking an Uber. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
Stevie disconnects his phone and looks around the soundstage. Actors, musicians, assistants, cameramen, sound and lighting crew, and hair/make up crew have fallen silent. They all look at him. He nervously touches the silver hoop in his ear and rubs the messy topknot of blond hair on his head. This is one of his first jobs since graduating from USC film school. He can’t mess this up. But if his dad is right—and he’s usually right …
“People, we’re done for today. Go home to your families.”
“What do you mean? We’re right in the middle of this shoot,” the lead dancer protests.
“I need to go. It’s an emergency. You can continue without me, but I would go home to your families, if I was you.”
Chaos erupts, voices rise in anger, people are shouting, protesting.
“Why? What’s going on?”
Stevie doesn’t have it in him to ignore them. “If this was your last day on earth, what would you do? Think about that and do it.”
As if in a bubble of calm, he grabs his backpack with his computer and walks out onto the city street. He takes a good look around. The wind ruffles the branches of a pear tree. A girl in a short pink spring dress walks across the street. The sky is blue, cloudless, and harmless. So far. If his dad is right, L.A. will never look as peaceful as it does right now, ever again.
Greg: 7 hours
Greg is driving to Costco to buy the biggest bags of rice, beans, and potatoes they have. He pictures his sister and mother sitting in Palm Springs at their kitchen table next to the patio with the swimming pool, with the air conditioner on, even though it’s only March. His 80-year-old mother Inge is probably cutting coupons or studying baking recipes. How is he going to get through to them? No time to waste, just do it. His sister picks up.
“Rose, it’s Greg.”
“Oh hi, little brother. How nice to hear your voice? How is it going in beautiful San Diego? Is the weather nice and cool? We’re already roasting here.”
“I don’t have time to chat. Can you put Mom on speaker phone? We have something very important to tell you.”
“How exciting! Is it about the boys? Is Daniel getting married to that cute girlfriend of his?”
“No, nobody is getting married. We need you to pack up your car, and drive up to our cabin with Mom, right away.”
“But Mom and I have to go shopping for a little get-together with the girls—”
Rose interrupts.
“Rose, stop. A disaster is going to strike in seven hours. You need to come to the ranch now to be safe.”
“Oh, I think we’re perfectly safe here, aren’t we mom?”
“What kind of disaster?” Inge asks.
“A giant solar storm causing a global blackout,” Greg explains.
“But we can’t just pack up and go! And I would never find your cabin on my own anyway,” Rose protests.
“You have to. I’ll give you detailed directions.”
“But we invited six women for a Kaffeeklatsch this afternoon. We can’t just cancel on such short notice.”
“Rose, listen to me, the whole fucking world as we know it is coming to an end in seven hours!” Greg is getting exasperated with his sister’s petty concerns.
“Language, Greg.”
“Look Rose and Mom we’re not trying to frighten you, but this is serious. Very serious. The boys are already on their way.”
“Oh my god, what are you saying? What are we going to do? I’m hyperventilating!” Rose’s voice sounds at the edge of hysteria.
“Just do exactly what we tell you.”
“Rose, give me the phone. I’m writing down the directions.” Inge is taking over.
“What about the dog? What about Midnight?” Rose cries.
“Bring the dog. But please don’t dilly-dally,” Greg concedes.
“Don’t worry.” Inge is going into disaster planning mode. “It’s just like earthquake preparation. No electricity, so we’ll bring flashlights, and a battery-powered radio. We’ll close up the house and disconnect everything.”
“You got it, Mom,” Greg says.
“Greg, I’m not leaving! Are you out of your mind! You can’t just call here and tell us what to do?” Rose whines.
“Don’t forget extra clothes and practical shoes and whatever non-perishable food you have,” Greg adds, ignoring Rose’s outburst.
“Got it. Now give me those directions,” Inge says.
“No, no, no!” Rose shouts.
Vega: San Diego; 6 hours
Greg turns to Vega. “Is there anything you cannot live without here?”
“I’m packing my Tibetan scroll painting of the goddess Tara,” she tells him. “It takes no space at all.” The thangka of Tara is Vega’s most meaningful item and has been with her since her early twenties when she found it in a small shop in Katmandu. Tara is the goddess of compassion, her body is sky blue, and she sits on a golden lotus throne, one hand extended outward in a wish-fulfilling gesture. Tara has been Vega’s guide and protectress for decades. She could never part with it.
“Do we have all our important documents?”
“Already in the car. Family pictures?”
Vega opens the cabinet door and lets her hand glide across the backs of about a dozen family albums she has assembled, designed, and labeled since the birth of the boys. All those memories, the first steps, the birthdays, holidays in Europe—hard copy photos from before flash drives existed.
She slides down to the ground and opens one album at random. A picture of Stevie as a toddler, in the garden looking for Easter eggs. His round face framed by the white-blond hair in a delighted grin as he puts a yellow egg into his basket.
“I can’t … leave all these behind,” Vega whispers.
“You have to. We’re only bringing the photos on the computer and on the flash drive. I know it’s hard, but we have limited space, and maybe in a few days this is all over and we can come back.” Greg is carrying bags of clothes and boxes of food to the car.
“Will the computer even work?”
“We won’t have internet, but we have solar power and you can still look at pictures.”
Vega’s heart aches, but she nods. Considering the scale of this catastrophe, a few baby pictures are the least of their worries. She hears Stevie’s heavy black combat boots stomp up to the front entrance, runs to the door and hugs her son, now almost a head taller than her. Through his black leather jacket, she feels his strong chest and muscled shoulders. He’s been working out. Her youngest is not her baby anymore. At twenty-five, he is an independent young man who’s forged a creative career in the film industry.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says into his shoulder, wanting to hold onto this hug a little longer.
“That was a $350 Uber ride,” he says.
“No matter. After this solar storm you won’t be able to use your credit card anyway,” Greg says.
“Grab one thing you really can’t live without.”
“Jeez, this all sounds so final.”
“Maybe it is, and if not, then there’s no harm done.”
Stevie stomps into his old room and stuffs shirts and pants into his backpack. “I’m taking these.” He holds up his two Japanese Katana swords. Makes sense.
“All right, let’s go.”
The Toyota SUV is stuffed to the brim with sacks of flour, rice, beans and four large cans of olive oil. One of the seats is down, to make space for bedding, clothes bags and the safe. It looks like one of the camping trips when the kids were small and she had to bring everything along.
As Vega locks up the house, her hands tremble. She has to sit down on the wooden stoop to calm her breathing. When will they return? And if they do, what will it look like? The solar storm cannot destroy the house, but people can. This house holds half a lifetime of memories, milestones, celebrations, and losses. She looks around her garden, her blooming purple Jacaranda tree, her herbs. All the plants she has planted, nurtured, and taken care of over the years. “Can I bring my tomato plant?”
“There’s no space.” Greg waves the car keys in the air.
“I’ll hold it on my lap.”
Vega: Minus 5 hours:
At 5 p.m., the eastbound I-8 freeway is sluggish with rush hour traffic. Vega looks at the people in their cars, driving home from work, stressed about sitting in traffic. What is going to happen to them? What will their world look like tomorrow? She holds on to her tomato plant, as if it were her life preserver.
Stevie in the backseat is in his own world is swaying to music. Greg has turned on the radio. A news report announces a minor solar flare, which could cause “sporadic” power outages.
“I can’t believe they aren’t giving people any warning,” Stevie says.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Rakesh told me this classified information in confidence. He and I could be criminally liable if we pass this on,” Greg tries to explain.
“Some could escape, like we are” A wave of guilt washes through Vega’s gut for escaping and leaving all these people behind.
“Only if they have an off-grid place like us.”
“Everything else gets fried?”
“Powerlines will melt, and transformers explode. Televisions, cable boxes, cell phones, computers, radios thermostats, electric stoves—ruined beyond repair, if the solar storm is strong enough,” Stevie says from the back seat.
“Rakesh said G5.”
“That’s the highest level. Only electronic devices protected in a metal box and turned off during the ejection can survive.”
“How do you know so much about this, Stevie?”
“Post-apocalyptic fiction. It’s a popular genre in my generation. But Daniel is the real expert.”
“Let’s hope our solar system inside the garage at the cabin will survive. It has a meal roof and metal siding. That’s our best chance.”
It feels like a punch to Vega’s stomach. She should open the window and scream out a warning to all the unsuspecting souls.
Instead, she watches office buildings go by. Soon they are replaced by suburban shopping malls. As they keep driving the scenery turns more rural; there’s more space between buildings; they are interspersed with orchards and wooded hills. Orange wildflowers have sprung up on the shoulders of the freeway. The mountains loom in the distance. El Cajon Mountain in the El Capitan County Preserve the leader of them, a mid-sized mountain range with a crooked back like an old horse.
“Do you want to listen to music?” Stevie offers from the back seat.
She turns off the radio. Might as well.
To the tunes of the Grateful Dead, pass the turnoff for Alpine and cross underneath a freeway overpass. On the other side civilization falls away. Usually at this part of the drive, she breathes a little deeper. No more buildings, just rolling hills and canyons, strewn with large boulders as far as the eye can see. The hills are green from the recent rains. There are still a lot of bare trees, with only a hint of green on some branches this early in the year. The smallest spark can ignite a wildfire. Can a solar storm cause fire? Vega doesn’t know what will happen. The future is a blank slate of possibilities—most of them terrifying.
They exit the freeway onto the winding country road CA 79 toward Cuyamaca Lake. Driving through the small village of Descanso with its trading post, saloon, and antique stores, Vega sees a few men with cowboy hats inside the saloon, drinking beer. Would it be better if they knew what was coming, or is ignorance bliss?
“Greg, we should be warning our friends at least!”
“Vega, I know how you feel. I don’t agree with this government decision, but I have to protect Rakesh. He told me in confidence, he has criminal liability to keep government classified information. He said, get your family out of here. And we did. That’s all we can do right now.”
“I’m calling Mina. She’s one of our oldest friends.”
Greg’s jaw sets in a grim, tense line. He shakes his head, but Vega is already on her phone.
“Mina? Listen, you need to get out of town. A terrible solar storm is going to hit earth tonight. It’s going to destroy the electric grid. I’m putting you on speakerphone. I’m in the car with Stevie and Greg. We’re on our way to our mountain cabin.”
“What are you talking about? There’s nothing in the news and where would we go,” Mina’s voice comes over of the speakerphone.
“They’re not announcing it, that’s why I’m calling you.”
“Vega, you sound hysterical. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but don’t mess with me and try to frighten us.”
“At least prepare …”
The line goes dead. Vega looks at Greg.
“She hung up on me. She didn’t believe me,” Vega says.
Greg nods.
At the end of the village, the traffic stops. Cars line up bumper to bumper. A group of locals have occupied the road and are marching in a circle holding up protest signs.
Vega’s heart stops. Did they find out and are demonstrating about the government’s lack of warning and preparation? Greg rolls down the window. They strain to hear what they are shouting.
Stevie has the best eyes and ears. “No More Power Shut Offs,” he reads out loud.
“They found out,” Vega says. “They are protesting about the solar storm.”
“No,” Greg corrects her. “The local power company has been turning off the power here during Santa Ana winds to prevent forest fires. Shutting off the electricity during a solar storm would actually be a good thing.”
“Oh my God,” Vega feels anxiety rise in her stomach. Her mouth gets dry, and her heart starts to race. “They’re protesting about the wrong thing, and we can’t get through the only road.” What if we won’t make it to the ranch in time and can’t disconnect the solar system? What if we are stuck here in limbo, and then in chaos?
“Yeah, we can’t afford to sit here in traffic for long,” Greg looks at Vega and apparently noticed how pale she has turned. “We still have four hours.”
“Relax, Mom the sheriff is letting cars through up ahead,” Stevie notices.
A deputy guides them on the road’s shoulder past the demonstrators. Vega rolls down her window and shouts at the protesters “Turn off the power. It’s the right thing to do!”
“What do you know, lady!” a protester shouts back angrily.
Vega swallows hard.
“Keep quiet, at least for Rakesh’s sake,” Greg hisses.
They turn left into a smaller road winding uphill through forests and meadows, where cows graze peacefully in the evening sun. A few fruit trees show the first tentative flower buds. As the car climbs higher in altitude, pine and oaks trees line the road. Timid light green tips of leaves try to break through. Every turn reveals a new vista, a new outlook. An ancient oak tree reaches its branches into the sky, it’s battered trunk scarred by lightning.
They drive through a green tunnel of live oak trees, through speckled sunlight, before the landscape opens up onto a wide meadow where deer graze in the shadows of sugar pines. At Middle Peak, the road rounds along the lake, which lies glittering and still in the evening light. Up here, none of the city’s frenzy seems to matter.
Another turn-off onto the narrow one-lane Sugar Pine Road, past the fire station. On the other side of the crest the entire county, all the way to the ocean is spread out in front of her. The golden reflection off the sea in the far distance shimmers like a pool of gold. She stares in silence. Almost there. A few more turns, the trees are getting thicker and the shade deeper. Here a few daffodils dot the slope, before they come to the final turn off onto the dirt lane leading to the cabin.
Greg slows down and shifts into four-wheel drive to navigate the pitted path. They climb one last hill, and the ranch is lying before them on the ridge of Kosmik Peak. The large garage—the size of a barn—next to the dirt road. Down the steep, paved driveway, the gray house is built into the hillside above Shelter Valley and opening toward the distant sea in the west. Vega takes a deep breath and, as always when she comes here, she feels calmer.
Daniel’s Tesla and Rose’s Volvo station wagon are already parked in the driveway. Daniel is carrying boxes into the house. Rose is helping Inge out of the car. A black-haired man stands next to Rose and a young girl Vega has never seen before is running down the hill with Midnight, who’s sniffing every rock and tree trunk delighted with all the new smells.
Vega: Minus 3 hours:
The sun is just about to set over the ocean. Deep orange, it hovers over the cloud bank, stretching from El Cajon Mountain to San Clemente Island and San Jacinto Mountains in the north. Vega watches it sink, slowly, gracefully behind the marine layer enveloping the coastline in the west.
This same benevolent sun has gilded the hilltops every sunset. But tonight, it will explode into fiery flares and threaten an entire civilization? Vega can’t fathom it. It hasn’t sunk in, and she hopes this may be just another false alarm about the end of the world like Y2K.
Vega hugs Daniel, Lin, and Inge, but who is the girl and the dark-skinned man with a mustache? Rose introduces him as her boyfriend, Tarek, and his daughter, Eleni. It’s news to Vega that Rose has a boyfriend.
Greg’s face darkens at the sight of these two strangers.
“How do you know my sister Rose?” he asks the man.
“We met through an online dating service two weeks ago,” the man called Tarek says with a slight accent.
“Tarek is an engineer,” Rose says proudly as if this that would explain everything, “He’s also a single dad to his twelve-year-old daughter Eleni.” She squeezes Tarek’s arm and pushes her peroxide blond hair behind her ear.
“Why are we here?” Tarek asks.
“I’ll explain later,” Greg says with barely concealed hostility.
Vega can feel his irritation.
“No, I need to know now!” Tarek insists. “I left my work at the desalination plant when Rose told me it was a matter of life and death that I come with her. I can’t afford to lose my job.”
A moment of silent stand-off follows. A crow flies overhead and caws. They are still standing in the cabin’s driveway, luggage and supply sacks piled at their feet. It’s the twilight time between day and night. Vega senses that Greg is about to explode. Not a good beginning for a forced co-habitation with this stranger plus daughter. Not a good beginning for gaining trust.
“You are welcome to go back,” Greg says with barely contained anger.
“No, Tarek. You must stay!” Rose pleads, clinging to his arm. “I couldn’t just leave him and his daughter behind. If it’s really as dangerous as Greg says, I had to get them out of harm’s way!”
Tarek squeezes Rose’s hand.
“I made it very clear. Only family!” Greg hisses.
“You just don’t want me to be happy!” Rose whines. “I haven’t been in a relationship in years!”
Vega rolls her eyes. Rose always was a drama queen. Tarek’s daughter is playing with Midnight, and Daniel is bringing luggage and supplies into the house. He flashes a glance at Greg. Daniel brought his girlfriend, Lin. Three non-family-members. They can’t turn them away. They’ll just have to accommodate them. What else is there to do? At least she knows Lin, who has a good head on her shoulders, but what kind of a person is Tarek?
“I will not wait any longer!” Tarek demands and Rose nods her head vigorously. “We drop everything and take Eleni out of school and now you won’t even give us an explanation. Enough already. We want to know what’s going on now!” Tarek’s face turns red as he raises his voice.
Oh, he’s that kind of person, Vega thinks. A bit volatile
Greg drops the sack of rice he hoisted to carry inside. Everybody gathers around. Will he explode or will he explain?
He takes a big breath to stay calm “I have credible reason to believe that tonight in about three hours, a CME— a coronal mass ejection or a giant solar storm— will erupt and bombard the earth’s atmosphere with powerful gamma rays, disrupting the electromagnetic field and disabling all electric and digital devices indefinitely.”
“What does that mean?” Rose is not satisfied.
“Couldn’t we just turn off our electric devices at home?” Tarek asks.
“Because you can’t reconnect them. They’ll be fried. Here we run on solar power, we’re not connected to the grid. We can disconnect our battery tonight, and then hopefully reconnect it tomorrow morning.”
“Do you know the size of the CME?” Daniel asks.
“My source said ‘the biggest since the Carrington event,’ whatever that means.”
“The Carrington event in 1859 was the most intense G5 geomagnetic storm in recorded history. A CME of this magnitude today will cause catastrophic black outs. Not good,” Daniel explains.
Rose frowns but seems temporarily placated. Tarek seems to grasp the situation and nods. “In that case, thanks for giving us shelter,” he says and grabs a bag of groceries to carry into the house.
Vega looks at Greg, who shakes his head in exasperation. They continue to carry sacks of rice, beans, oatmeal, and large cans of olive oil down to the basement for storage. Vega stocks the shelves of the big refrigerator with frozen food, milk, butter, cheeses, and anything else people have brought from home. The food should last through the night, while the fridge is disconnected. She places the canned goods and dry supplies on the shelves Greg installed for his growing wine cellar.
Inge helps Vega make a big pot of stew, with chicken, potatoes, and perishable vegetables.
Vega: Minus 2 hours:
Nine people sit around the table eating bowls of stew. It’s the first time since this morning that Vega has stopped running, that she actually stopped to sit down and think. Every face looks drawn and anxious.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to drop everything and get here so quickly,” Greg begins. His eyes linger on Tarek, whom he didn’t invite. “I didn’t ask you lightly. If my information is correct—and I have all the reason to believe it is—we will wake up in a very different world tomorrow. A world without electricity, without computers, without cars, without electric light or appliances.”
All eyes are on Greg.
“After dinner,” Greg continues, “we will turn off our electric solar system and disconnect our lithium-ion battery to prevent it from being shorted. Hopefully, we can turn it back on tomorrow when the solar storm is over. Until then we have candles and flashlights. We all should try to get some sleep. It’s been a crazy day. Any questions?”
“Why isn’t anybody else leaving? Why isn’t there a warning on the radio or TV?” Rose wants to know.
“A friend in the government risked his job to warn me. It’s classified information and under the threat of criminal liability, I could only tell my immediate family,” Greg says pointedly, looking at Tarek. Rose doesn’t seem to notice.
“What about all the other people? What will happen to them?” Inge asks.
She echoes Vega’s thoughts. With a hard clump of anxiety in the middle of her stomach, the faces of their friends and neighbors pass through her mind. What will happen to them?”
“Good question. I don’t know. I believe the government is trying to prevent riots and mass hysteria.”
“Won’t that happen anyway, if this solar storm really hits?” Stevie asks.
“Probably.” Greg agrees.
He clearly doesn’t want to go there, Vega thinks. He was always good at compartmentalizing problems and dealing with the most pressing priorities first.
“Are you a prepper? Did you expect this disaster? How come you are so prepared?” Tarek asks.
“We just built this cabin here for a peaceful place away from the city. We did not anticipate an apocalypse. We only found out today, Tarek.” Vega says in a soothing voice, trying to calm down her sister-in-law’s boyfriend.
“A total collapse of the electric grid was going to happen soon anyway,” Daniel interjects. “With global warming, the power grid is getting more and more strained from all the air conditioners and would have shut down at the next big heat wave.”
“That’s a relief,” Rose says sarcastically. “How long will we have to stay here?
“Couldn’t everyone just shut off their cell phones, computers?” Tarek asks.
“The surge of electrons will be so powerful, it will destroy electronic parts whether they are turned off or not,” Daniel explains. “Hopefully, the metal roof and siding of our garage will serve as a Faraday’s cage and protect the solar battery and system inside.”
“What’s a Faraday cage?” Rose asks.
“It’s an enclosure made of conductive materials such as metal used to guide electromagnetic fields along its surface to the ground, protecting what’s inside,” Daniel explains. “Turn off your cellphones and computers and put them into this metal box, and we will store it in the garage until tomorrow.”
“We can still listen to downloaded music, can’t we?” Stevie is the music expert in the family.
“Good point. Throw in the Wonderboom speaker as well.”
Everybody around the table throws their cell phone into a metal toolbox. It’s obvious from their expression that no one wants to part with their devices. When Vega adds her cell phone to the pile, even she feels somehow naked without it.
“Any other electronics?” Greg asks.
“My Apple watch?” Inge asks with trepidation.
“Absolutely. Microprocessors are very vulnerable to fluctuations in power. They don’t stand a chance.”
Inge hands over her watch to Daniel, who adds it to the pile.
“I’m not giving up my cell phone,” Tarek declares.
“Fine. Suit yourself.” Greg’s patience is obviously stretched to the breaking point.
Let him keep his cell phone, Vega thinks. He won’t be able to use it anyway after tonight.
“Can we go to the bathroom and brush our teeth?” Rose asks.
“Yes. Our water service won’t be disrupted. Our water system runs on gravity, not electricity. We have our own well and cistern.”
“How long will the power be out?” Inge has been very quiet all evening.
“Two years, at least.” Daniel says in a low voice.
“Two years?” Rose shouts. Others gasp in dismay and disbelief.
“However—there is one amazing side effect to this solar storm,” Daniel tries to interrupt the outburst.
They all look at him. “A silver lining?” Rose asks.
He nods. “When the gamma rays hit the earth’s atmosphere, the CME should cause a global aurora borealis like the Northern Lights. In about three hours, an incredible light show will illuminate the night sky.”
“What does that mean?” Vega asks.
“Nobody knows for sure, but it should be a fantastic, cosmic spectacle.”
Minus 1 hours:
It is getting late, and everybody is exhausted. Inge and Rose are washing the dishes. The only sounds interrupting the tense silence is the clinking of the silverware and the clatter of the ceramic bowls as they place them in the drying rack. Vega is pacing back and forth in front of the large picture window looking out over the valley. But there is only a black, moonless sky with pinpricks of stars.
“It’s almost time,” Greg says and goes to the garage with Daniel to turn off the solar converter. The rest of the family sit around the table, not sure how to spend the last few minutes before the apocalypse. Greg and Daniel return and join them.
“It’s happening!” Vega exclaims. The lights go out and the far horizon—where she can normally see the city lights in the far distance, San Diego directly west, Oceanside and Ramona toward the Northwest, and the hazy glow of Los Angeles over the mountains in the north—has turned black, pure darkness, except for bright flashes right where the skyline of San Diego should be. A fiery flash descends and crashes into the horizon. Another one, further south, and then another north of Oceanside, and more and more, some brighter, others faint, as if from a long distance. Shock and awe, Vega thinks, like the terrifying fireworks at night during the invasion of Iraq. “What is it?” Vega whispers.
“Those are the planes, falling from the sky,” Daniel says, “as their propulsion systems fail.”
Another faint explosion toward the north over LA makes Vega shiver. She sends a silent prayer for all the lives lost this moment.
O hours: Vega
They all turn to the giant picture window, which takes up the entire length of the house and captures the expanse of the night sky.
Now the real light show begins. Swirls of green and yellow veils roll across the sky. They turn over like waves, changing colors to purple and blue, evolving, expanding, enlarging, erasing the stars. Like a river of light, the swirls flow toward them, reaching beyond and above the mountain into space, forming cascades, pillars of light, merging, coalescing. A tongue of green light flashes across their field of vision. Fingers of florescent turquoise spread out as if to touch and reach every corner of the universe. Like wisps of a rainbow, they change direction and recede overhead.
Eleni lets out a short cry. Tarek holds her in his arms and strokes her back. Midnight whimpers. Inge and Rose turn around the dining chairs and watch from first row seats. Daniel and Lin stand hand in hand. Greg has put his arm around Vega, who trembles in awe and terror at the grandeur and beauty of this cosmic display.
A waterfall of fire rains down onto the valley in undulating moving streams of green and purple. Giant fingers of green fire seem to stretch and reach toward their cabin. Vega grasps Greg’s arm convinced the fiery fingers in the sky will reach them and burn them. Now! She never imagined the apocalypse, but this is what it would look like. She turns to Stevie, standing by himself and touches his arm. He looks at her with tears streaming down his face. Vega folds him into a hug.
If this is the last thing I ever see, it’s not a bad way to go out.
.
