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The Long Road Home: Storm Stories, #1
The Long Road Home: Storm Stories, #1
The Long Road Home: Storm Stories, #1
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The Long Road Home: Storm Stories, #1

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When the power shuts off, how long will it take for everything to fall apart?

 

Lukas Calloway was a loner—and happy about it. He doesn't like crowds and while he'd do anything for his family, he loves living by himself.

 

But when a massive coronal mass ejection destroys earth's power grids and plunges mankind into the 1800s, Lukas is forced to choose: help others or go it alone. Either way, he has to reach his family and fulfill a vow to his brother, stuck on the other side of the world. Lukas will do anything to protect his family but with the world falling apart around him, will he survive the journey? Will mankind survive the storm?

 

The Long Road Home is a stand alone novel set in the Solar Storm universe. It takes place in the early stages of the CME crisis depicted in the Solar Storm books 1-5.
 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 25, 2019
ISBN9781386500094
The Long Road Home: Storm Stories, #1
Author

Marcus Richardson

Marcus attended the University of Delaware and later graduated from law school at the age of 26. Since then, he has at times been employed (or not) as: a stock boy, a cashier, a department manager at a home furnishing store, an assistant manager at and arts and crafts store, an unemployed handyman, husband, cook, groundskeeper, spider killer extraordinaire, stay at home dad, and a writer.

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    The Long Road Home - Marcus Richardson

    THE LONG ROAD HOME

    A Solar Storm Novel

    Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.

    CARL SAGAN


    Coronal mass ejections (or CMEs) are huge bubbles of gas threaded with magnetic field lines that are ejected from the Sun over the course of several hours…CMEs disrupt the flow of the solar wind and produce disturbances that strike the Earth with sometimes catastrophic results…coronal mass ejections are often associated with solar flares and prominence eruptions but they can also occur in the absence of either of these processes…the frequency of CMEs varies with the sunspot cycle. At solar minimum we observe about one CME a week. Near solar maximum we observe an average of 2 to 3 CMEs per day.

    NASA, MARSHALL SFC

    CHAPTER ONE

    Lukas Calloway leaned the last load of 2x4 studs against the wall in his living room and sighed. The small, one-bedroom condo he owned on the top floor in the building looked like a construction zone—or a warehouse. Pine studs lay stacked against one bare, white wall. His tool chest was in the corner that served as a dining room, as were his collection of electrical cords and boxes of fasteners. He had a couple hand saws and, tossed in for good measure, a borrowed circular saw. Drywall sheets and paint, selected to perfectly match the plain contractor white that adorned the rest of his spartan accommodations, filled the far corner. The rest of the open space was filled with shipping boxes.

    Lukas wasn’t even sure what was in the boxes—his older brother, William, a sergeant in the Rangers, had shipped them over the course of several weeks. As soon as he’d found out he was heading overseas on deployment to an active combat zone—one of the interminable, unpronounceable hot spots in the Middle East—William had kicked his preparations into high gear.

    All his life, Lukas had been playing catchup to his better prepared, better educated, better trained older brother. They had joined the Cub Scouts together, though William was two years older. They had both been Boy Scouts—though William alone had earned his Eagle rank—and the sibling rivalry had continued through high school and college.

    Lukas wiped the sweat from his forehead with a forearm. Though it was only 29 degrees outside, he’d made more than a dozen trips up and down the stairs to bring his building supplies inside. He could have just used the service elevator, but Lukas didn’t want people watching him haul supplies through the building. He figured that would cause too many questions, questions he didn’t want to answer. Tourists were always nosy and if there was one thing Lukas hated about living in the ski capitol of Utah, it was tourists. He knew if he let his guard down—even for just a second—some elitist snob from New York would dig through his stuff, just…because.

    For though he didn’t yet know exactly what was in the boxes William had sent, Lukas knew it was all survival supplies. His brother, an unabashed prepper, had been amassing a stockpile of food, weapons, and supplies on his ranch in Idaho for years. Their father, a retired soldier himself, had always been all too happy to fuel his sons’ passion for preparedness. Presents in the Calloway family, whether for birthdays of Christmas, had for decades been camping, hunting, or survival themed.

    Lukas' phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and grimaced. William had texted him another message: U done yet??

    Lukas tapped out the reply: Yup. Just finished. Now the fun can begin.

    Wish I could be there to help.

    Lukas smirked as he replied. I know. But I don’t need that kind of help.

    If William was always the better of the brothers at everything he did, there was one area where Lukas outshined even the golden boy. For general handiness, Lukas left William far behind. He’d been building things with wood and metal for most of his life. At first it had been just for fun, then later to prove to the world he was in fact better than his brother at something.

    Because of William’s bumbling in the workshop, Sophie, his wife, had demanded that Lukas be the one to oversee the finishing of their house in Idaho. William had had the good grace at the time to simmer in silence while his younger brother expertly handled the details inside his new house deep within the American Redoubt.

    Lukas was sure Sophie had done it more to mess with her husband than anything, but everyone had been forced to admit that Lukas had done a fantastic job turning a modest country home into an estate, complete with secret storage areas, and a safe room that even William missed when he was given the grand tour.

    Now that Staff Sergeant William Calloway was shipping out—and convinced he’d never come back—Lukas would build a secret storage area in his own condo. At first he fought against the idea, calling the need for such a space more of his brother’s paranoid tendencies. But William had been relentless—his conviction that something bad was coming eventually won Lukas over. There was real fear in William’s eyes when he’d explained he wouldn’t be there to protect his little brother, a fear Lukas had never seen in the eyes of his invincible sibling. As a result, he’d agreed to build a small storage area to hide his preps. But it was only with the birth of William’s twins two months ago that Lukas got serious about the project.

    Lukas looked out the living room patio window as the sun faded over Park City, Utah and the snow tipped Wasatch Range reflected the last of the day’s light. He pulled the thick curtains to block the casual observer from seeing inside his condo. The curtains, black on the side facing the street and white on the side facing the room, were exactly the same ones he’d installed in William’s house over the summer.

    It was on the last night of his visit that William had made Lukas swear he’d take things seriously. He’d assigned Lukas a mission.

    I’m not going to be around forever— William had announced, peering out the window in his new study on the second floor. The long, tree-lined driveway stretched off toward the rugged hills to the east.

    Shut the hell up, Lukas had said, after pulling the newly installed window shade to cover the glass. He tugged it again and the heavy fabric caught on the rod above the window. He needed the step ladder to see what was wrong…

    I’m serious Lukas, William had replied. Leave the damn curtains alone and look at me.

    Lukas sighed and turned to face his brother, a leaner, sharper image of himself. They had the same narrow, squarish head inherited from some Norseman ancestor a thousand years ago, the same medium height frame, the same dark hair and gray eyes. But where Lukas was naturally solid and strong—if clumsy—William was whiplike and wiry, with a strength and natural athletic grace to match. Lukas had always struggled with his weight, but finally accepted that his metabolism just wasn’t as fast burning has his older brother.

    William could inhale an entire table’s worth of food and still be hungry an hour later, not having gained an ounce. In contrast, Lukas could merely look at that same table of food and gain five pounds. However, he lost weight just as easy with regular exercise, but as a forensic IT specialist by training, time for exercise was always in short supply. As a result, where William looked like a top tier wide receiver, Lukas looked more like a retired linebacker.

    Lukas smirked. Okay, I’m looking at your ugly face. What’s up?

    William grimaced. I need you to promise me something.

    Lukas waited. Okay…what?

    William swallowed and looked away for a minute. If I don’t come back…

    "Oh, come on, not this again…"

    William frowned but keep going. I need you to promise me you’ll look after Sophie and…and the twins.

    Jesus, Will…don’t talk like that, Lukas said. He didn’t like the way William looked—his older brother was unshakable, a rock. Was that…were his eyes getting moist?

    Are you fuckin’ crying? Lukas demanded, incredulous.

    His brother’s steel-gray eyes stared hard at Lukas. "I need to know, man."

    Lukas took a second look at his normally unshakable sibling. Dude, take it easy, okay? You’re just getting jittery because you haven’t had much sleep since the twins were born, he said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He felt the muscles in William’s arm twitch with suppressed energy. He was wound up like a top.

    I’m not fuckin’ around here, bro, William said, looking at his brother. His eyes were definitely more shiny than normal. "I can feel it in my bones, you know? My cup’s full. He shook his head. I know, he said, scoffing. It sounds crazy—I used to say the same thing about the old-timers in my unit when they muttered about it, too. He ran a hand through his tightly cropped hair that almost wasn’t there. Thing of it is, I’m the old timer now. We got chewed up on the last deployment…fuckin’ jihadis are getting smart."

    Come on man, it’ll be okay…you’ll see, Lukas said weakly. He wasn’t sure what to do—he’d never seen William this emotional, not even when the twins had been born, or when he’d married his high school sweetheart.

    I’m not coming back, bro, William breathed. Louder, he continued: "Call me crazy, but when you know, you know. He looked out the window at the gathering night, smiling at the first stars to appear in the velvet drapery of the evening over the Snake River valley. Maybe this is all God’s plan, you know? To give me a glimpse of the future, so I can make sure my children survive the…whatever is coming."

    Dude…

    William laughed, and for a moment the old, cocksure brother of Lukas' youth was back. I know—maybe I’m just losing it, right? The smile faded. Have you talked with dad lately? He feels it too. Something’s coming.

    Lukas looked at William with a raised eyebrow. "Dad is always feeling something coming. He said the same thing about Y2K. And Obama’s election. And the stock market crash back in ‘08. And the bird flu outbreak in ‘20. He spread his hands. Yet we’re still here."

    For now… William said, looking out the window again. The bird flu thing was in China, not here.

    Now you’re splitting words… muttered Lukas.

    William clenched his jaw. I just want you—

    "Come on, man, Lukas began, How the hell am I supposed to look after Sophie and the kids from Utah? Lukas shook his head. I mean, say things get as bad as you’re worried about—and I can see you’re worried—how am I supposed to get here? I don’t even have a car!"

    You have your company car, William began.

    "It’s electric, Will! And it’s a piece of shit tool-van, not a passenger car. I can’t get over 200 miles in that thing without a recharge, and there’s not a lot of juice-ups between here and Midway—"

    Just tell me you’ll do it, William blurted.

    Lukas blinked. William did a lot of things, but he never...blurted. "But why me? You’ve got army buddies—"

    "Because I know you! William said with a sudden urgency that made Lukas take a half step back. He’d never seen such a look of fierce determination—or desperation—on his brother’s usually stoic face. When you swear to do something, by God you fucking do it. No matter the cost. It’s always been that way."

    His brother was right. Lukas was, as his favorite teacher once remarked, at best, singled-minded...at worst, obsessive over details and tasks. When he was assigned a project in school, and especially so in college, Lukas had been so engrossed in completing the task to the best of his abilities that often he’d forgotten to eat—and sometimes, sleep. It was just how he was wired. He didn’t like crowds, he preferred to listen rather than speak when forced into a position where he had to interact with people he didn’t know, and he always got the job done. Always. To not finish a project or assignment…it was so alien a concept that the thought just didn’t compute. Lukas may as well try not to breathe.

    No matter the cost…

    Lukas pulled back from the memory of that last night with his brother and looked at the pile of boxes in his spartan living room in Park City. William had spent a considerable amount of money buying all that stuff. He meant for Lukas to have it and use it to get to Sophie and the kids if…

    If something bad actually happened.

    Lukas shook his head. He may be set in his ways and admittedly a little odd compared to most people, but at least Lukas wasn’t paranoid. Still…he’d made a promise.

    The old itch to finish what he started made his mouth twitch. Lukas picked up his tape measure and got to work. There was a sizable gap between the left edge of his fireplace and the long, northern wall of his condo. He had measured it out and decided if he put his false wall flush with the tile hearth, it could run the length of the living room. He could, in essence, create a long, narrow second room. Plenty of space for one set of shelves spanning the length of the interior, about twenty feet, floor to ceiling. He could create a door out of an electrical panel and install it in the utility closet, accessible only from the patio off his living room. Once it was finished, no one would ever know it was there.

    As he measured and prepped the first 2x4 for cutting, he pondered how he could make a second door—maybe in his bedroom—and conceal it…as a painting or something…

    CHAPTER TWO

    Terry Vane leaned forward in his seat, rubbing shoulders with students on either side of him. The auditorium was silent. The fiery speech from the visiting Congresswoman espousing a better world for everyone through collectivism had changed his life. He thought back to when he first saw her give an impassioned speech just two years ago, when she’d been a freshman Congresswoman and rising superstar.

    If Terry were truthful, the first thing that drew him into her sphere of influence had been her looks. She was athletic, trim and curvy, and had a flirtatious attitude that had helped her in the polls. Now, she was no longer a rookie in Congress and though her ideas while still considered far left by most Americans; they were spreading like wildfire with college students across the country.

    And that my friends, is worth the sacrifice, she said from center stage into the silence. "This country, all of us, all of you are worth the sacrifice. She raised her hand in the air, fist clenched. For the good of all!" The rallying cry made famous over the previous few years didn’t fail to bring the crowd to its feet.

    Terry leaned back in his seat as the auditorium erupted in applause and cheers. Those down in the first ranks stood, and before long, every one of the 400 seats in the auditorium was empty as the audience gave a standing ovation. Down at the podium, the Congresswoman smiled and kept her fist in the air. A few more fists rose into the air in solidarity. More and more fists rose, and a chant started: The Many! The Many! The Many!

    Some part of Terry’s mind, grasping at tidbits of knowledge passed down by his long-dead parents—snippets of conversations he'd heard as a toddler perhaps—recoiled at the ideas espoused that winter day before final exams. Terry shouted with the rest of the crowd, though. He had to admit the truth of her words. College-age students across the country were graduating and moving out into the workplace only to discover conditions not unlike those during the Great Depression. The good paying jobs just weren't there anymore, and wasn’t it demeaning to ask students, who had spent the last four years debating rights and philosophies, to do menial labor? It just wasn't fair.

    It wasn't fair that some people had so much money while others had so little. It wasn't fair that some people lived in huge houses that came with a carbon footprint the size of football stadium. It wasn't fair that people who lived in small eco-friendly houses had to suffer the same messed up climate created by people who didn't give a damn about the earth at all. The more he looked, the more Terry and his classmates—and students all across the country—discovered things that were simply unfair.

    As Terry filed out of the auditorium along with the rest of the students, all excitedly talking about the change they would make in the new country they wanted to build, he gave a moment over to his practical side. Deep down he knew that the changes the Congresswoman spoke about were too sudden and too large in scope to be effective in the short term. While he agreed with everything she’d said, he disagreed with how fast she wanted to accomplish these goals.

    But she’d said the same thing, then answered the criticism with a parable. Was it not better to remove the band-aid by ripping it off, rather than slowly peeling it off? Because that’s what she asked—no demanded. Terry’s generation were the only ones with the guts and temerity to rip the bandage off. Only then could they set about healing the wounded and misguided country. Only then could they fix things and make everything fair. For everyone. For the many.

    Terry stood by a bench and watched the students flow around him. Some talked about the lecture, others mentioned rallies around the campus to support the Congresswoman. The air of excitement was intoxicating.

    Terry’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out the sleek new smart phone, a gift from his doting grandfather, and read the message. It was a simple reminder he’d have to get dinner on his own tonight. The doctors had postponed the chemo treatment until tomorrow, and his grandparents needed to stay an extra day in Boise for observation. They wouldn’t be home until Sunday at the earliest.

    Terry wanted to roll his eyes at being treated like a twelve-year-old, but he knew his grandfather's heart was in the right place. After his parents had died in a car accident when he was just a toddler, Terry’s grandparents had taken over parental responsibilities and raised him as their own son in Boise, where his grandfather was then chief of police.

    As his grandfather approached retirement, old age had crept up on the wiry old man. Merril Vane developed health problems, and his active, outdoor lifestyle had been curtailed. Terry, now a junior at Boise State, visited as many times as he could throughout the year. It was the least he could do to pay back the couple that had taken him in and raised him as their own son, though he could never guess at how hard it must have been to care for the child of their own dead son, to be reminded of their loss every time they looked at him.

    Sighing as he got into his late-model electric car—he’d snagged an impressively long-term loan, thanks to new carbon-friendly lending initiatives—Terry tossed the phone in the front seat and climbed in as the car powered up.

    Friday night and he had no plans. Well, other than heading home to his grandparents’ place. It was supposed to be just a visit, but now he’d probably be there all weekend. His grandma would be upset if they got back Sunday and he wasn’t there.

    As he pulled into traffic, Terry tried to call his potential girlfriend, Chloe, a hottie from the eco-justice group they were in, to set up a time to meet that night. The calls kept dropping though, so he never got more than a couple garbled words. She seemed interested enough, though, so there was that.

    Rolling his eyes, he gave up and fired off a text message instead. Even that didn't work, the phone reporting that all systems were busy and the message would be sent out as soon as it was possible.

    Terry sighed. All he wanted to do was find some beer and get lucky with Chloe while they watched the northern lights that were supposed to be visible from all of Idaho tomorrow night. Grandpa’s ranch was way the hell out in the boonies, it had the darkest skies he’d ever seen. Liquor, a hot girl, a dark night, no one around for miles, and the biggest light-show in recorded history. What more could a guy want?

    He turned on NPR as he sat at a red light, but the only thing Terry heard over the radio was a confusing report about hackers shutting down NASA's website. Serves them right, freaking techno-fascists, he muttered. They’re all part of the military-industrial complex, why the hell should we care about their website?

    The announcer said something about the hacker group, called The Proletariat, and Terry switched the radio off. It was a cool name, but he was too distracted to listen to details. It was enough to know someone out there was fighting the Man and causing inconveniences for the bootlickers. None of that bothered him in the least.

    All Terry wanted to do was gather his friends, get some beer—and maybe some weed—and get wasted one more time before final exams. It was the perfect opportunity—to make it more enticing to Chloe and her friends, he could even promote the get together as a think-tank on socialism and the modern student. His mind raced with the possibilities. High on politics and ideology, with a little booze and weed thrown in for good measure, he imagined the girls would be much more susceptible to his advances in a secluded, safe environment free from knuckle-dragging Neanderthals—especially those loudmouth troublemakers, the Campus Federalists.

    Just thinking about how the rival conservative group always seemed to show up for student demonstrations and perform counter-demonstrations made him grip the wheel with white knuckles. Stupid, ignorant, spoon-fed, privileged assholes, the lot of them. They ruined everything. Terry was surprised they weren’t out in force to protest the lecture he’d just been to—that was their way. Show up, make a lot of noise, and ruin things for everyone else.

    He gripped the wheel tight as he pulled into the liquor store parking lot. It wasn't fucking fair. He glared at the ‘we don't serve under 21 sign’ in the window. He knew Rick, the clerk that worked afternoons. They had an understanding that allowed Terry, at 20, to get the alcohol he wanted when he wanted it. Terry secretly believed Rick was just paying lip service to the fairness aspect of the argument, but he never turned down a dime bag in payment.

    A few minutes later, Terry deposited a case of Natty Ice in the back of his Next Gen Prius and headed back to his dorm. He'd given up the last of his private stash to Rick, so now he needed to score some more ganja with his roommate—one of the biggest dealers on campus.

    His phone buzzed with an incoming message. Chloe and a couple of her friends from the sorority were in for a weekend in the woods. Terry licked his lips, all thoughts of the neo-fascist Federalists forgotten. Oh hell yeah, this weekend was going to be awesome.

    He'd already sent a text via GroupMe, and most of the regulars were in, including Billy—and even Noel—his closest friends on campus. He just hoped Chloe would be ready to take things to the next level. She hadn't given him any signals, but she was fiercely devoted to social justice. Some of the other guys said that she was a carpet muncher—God, Terry hoped not, that would be such a waste. His mind wandered at the next stoplight to thoughts of Chloe with another girl.

    Man, if he could only watch that

    CHAPTER THREE

    Lukas paused in the above-ground entrance to GlobalTec’s smallest remote digital storage facility. Company policy required he confirm his GlobalTec issued electric work van—really just a compact car with extra headroom and a bit of storage in the back—was plugged in and charging before he entered the building.

    Lukas looked over his shoulder out the glass double doors leading to the employee parking lot about ten yards away. His white van nestled up to the power receptacle and was happily sucking juice from the main relay, as per company regulations. The parking lot lights bathed it in the warm glow of energy efficient, eco-friendly LED lamps, making the van appear more blue than it did in daylight. Other than the security guard’s 4x4 truck, Lukas' was the only vehicle in the lot tonight.

    Not that he was surprised—it was almost 10 o’clock and the GlobalTec storage facility wasn’t exactly a visitor magnet during regular hours. Other than a few technicians and the security guard, who the hell would want to come to a place that was essentially an underground vault for hard drives?

    Normally he wouldn’t mind heading an hour south of home to work on servers by himself at the bottom of a deep hole in the ground, even this late at night. He didn’t get claustrophobic, and as an introvert, Lukas relished the forced seclusion that would quickly drive more extroverted, social people insane.

    He did mind, however, having to work so far from home right when the best predicted aurora of his life—perhaps anyone’s—was due to start in only a few hours. Lukas pulled back his coat sleeve. Four hours and seven minutes, to be precise. An awful lot of people wearing tinfoil hats claimed this was the big one, the event that would set mankind back to the pre-Industrial Revolution era.

    Lukas wanted to talk to William about it, but his older brother, somewhere in the Middle East, had once again gone off the grid. Sophie wasn’t worried—she’d talked with Lukas just yesterday—William routinely went out on patrols, or whatever he did, and was out of contact for days or even weeks at a time…but he always came back to base.

    It was just bad timing, she’d said. But Lukas had detected a strong undercurrent of fear in her voice. There was an awful lot of speculation about the incoming solar flare. Most of the talking heads on TV and the internet pooh-poohed the whole thing as nothing more unusual than a good case of the Northern Lights, and the government and their scientists backed up these claims.

    But there was an awful lot of talk to the contrary on the survival and preparedness forums that Lukas and William frequented. A lot of people were out buying up last minute supplies…just in case.

    Lukas squared his shoulders and stepped forward toward the lone guard—it was Larry tonight, one of the regulars that worked the graveyard shift—on duty at the far end of the spartan lobby. He didn’t have time to worry about the end of the world. It was time to get to work.

    Lukas had brought his standard tool kit for investigating and repairing GlobalTec’s servers and hard

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