Lights out in America's Dairyland: An EMP Adventure Read online

  As the years went on and my involvement into the prepper lifestyle became deeper, I began to think about the potential disasters that could befall the nation. I understood that some of the potential disasters would be devastating no matter how a person prepared. Such as an asteroid hitting the earth (adios muchachos!), or a lightning-fast pandemic that spread around the world in days and killed quickly. A financial collapse, (the U.S. had been to the precipice) or a war that engulfed the nation were also a difficult to fully prepare for in my opinion. There were a few plausible incidents that did keep me up nights. I believed that an EMP that took out the electrical grid permanently was one of the most likely scenarios. Whether it was a rogue nation detonating a nuke over the Continental U.S. or a massive solar flare, and the energy that would accompany it would hit without warning and cause lots of immediate devastation to the electric grid and all other electronic devices. Humans would survive relatively untouched by the effects of such a thing. But those who remained would be thrust into a world without electric power, something that most people couldn't imagine. Hopefully, people would either band together and re-assert some control or go the other way and fight it out with the remaining survivors for resources a’ la’ Mad Max. I was hoping that we banded together, but after almost 20 years studying human nature, I think we were going to have some Mohawk sporting bikers prowling the land first, and in pretty short order!

  I opened the hatchback of my car and began my preparations to bug out of the present situation. I removed two eight-gallon Rubbermaid Action Packers; they contained my get home/bug out bag and other supplies. I remembered my ex-girlfriend of a few years ago and several others mocking me for having a bag like this at my office, in my car, and at home. She used to complain about the amount of money I invested in stuff of this nature, because that meant less money for trips to Vegas and Cancun when she could get drunk and fondle other men in the pursuit of “fun." After I kicked her to the curb for fondling other men one too many times, (What can I say, I’m a terrible judge of women, I settled into a life of bachelorhood and prepping.

  I had a pretty comprehensive bag; it contained a couple of changes of socks and underwear; I had shelter in the form of a camouflaged tarp, which could serve as a tent, and a small bedroll consisting of a military issue poncho liner and a thinsleeping mat. I carried a couple of MRE’s, a jar of chunky peanut butter, a pound of quick cook oatmeal, and a small assortment of canned goods including sardines and a couple of bags of beef jerky. I also carried a couple of pints of Myer’s rum,because sometimes you just need a morale booster. My food supply included a small bag of condiments including packets of honey, barbecue sauce and red hot sauce that I obtained from various fast food locations, so I could make my meager rations a bit more palatable.

  I also had a small cooking set and a collapsible grill so I could cook directly over a fire if necessary. To ensure that I had a fire to work with, I packed several methods to make that fire including a fire steel with flint and magnesium block, a couple of Bic lighters and 4 boxes of wooden matches sealed up in a ziplock bag.

  I also carried an assortment of lights and batteries housed in a metal box lined with cardboard with each item wrapped in foil and sealed in metalized bags. A box constructed like this created a Faraday cage, which was supposed to protect electronic equipment from the ravages of an EMP. I opened up a single flashlight and loaded the batteries into the compartment, closed it up and hit the switch. A bright light emanated from the flashlight, and I breathed a sigh of relief, score one for Beakman’s World and Bill Nye the Science Guy! I decided to keep the remaining lights shielded in case the Sun wasn’t finished with us yet.

  I also carried a couple of devices for water filtration, and from my experience in long distance cycling a lot of water was required to maintain stamina and stave off dehydration. I had a Katadyn micro filter which could provide me with about 1250 gallons of purified water as well as a survival straw which could draw water directly out of any standing water source, filter it, and deliver it directly to my mouth. I made a mental note to fill both my 70-ounce camelback as well as my half-quart cycling bottles before I split from the two big thermoses that the Madison PD provided to us for training.

  A small medical kit rounded out my bag that would take care of most medical emergencies in the field. It also contained a couple of tourniquets, some quick clot bandages, several Israeli bandages and a suture kit to sew up larger lacerations. I also carried pain relievers from past surgeries, aspirin and ibuprofen as well as some anti-diarrheal meds and other stomach discomfort products. I also had a small supply of antibiotics and some triple antibiotic cream. The bag weighed in at 14 pounds….not too bad considering all the stuff I had.

  I began to pack my bag with the items in a certain configuration so I could get to the stuff I needed the most as quickly as possible. Once I finished with that, I used a bungee cord I always carried in my car and attached the load to my rear bike rack. One of the nice things the Department allowed me to do was to customize my patrol bike to some degree to meet my personal needs. The Department used Specialized Rockhoppers with disc brakes and lockable forks, giving me excellent stopping power and a great deal of maneuverability in rough or smooth conditions. I had a local bike shop put on a forty spoke rear wheel and a thirty-six spoke front wheel, which the mechanic said would be bomb proof and would carry any load I decided to attach to the bike. The rims were heavier than most cyclists needed, and added a bit of weight to the overall package, but I thanked my lucky stars I insisted on creating a solid load-bearing machine. I also had a super heavy duty rear rack installed that was rated to carry about 100 pounds that gave me more than enough strength to take all the stuff I would need on this journey. I took a roll of electrical tape and covered the Milwaukee police sticker on the top tube of the bike to conceal my origins and put my bike aside for a moment.

  The next thing I wanted to do was to make my appearance as inconspicuous as possible. If I rode in uniform, I ran the risk of being asked for help, or invite attack from the various jerks that would soon be roaming the countryside. I wanted to look the part of just another guy trying to get somewhere and not looking for trouble, in other words, invisible. Unfortunately, some of the stuff I was carrying, as well as some of the personal gear I would be wearing would betray me as anything but an average Joe. I removed my uniform and put on my Tru-Spec cargo shorts over my lycra bicycle shorts. I debated whether to take my Kevlar vest along; it was hot, heavy, and certainly gave the wrong impression if displayed. But the fact remained that we might be running into some assholes on the road so I decided to keep it on under my blue t-shirt and hoped nobody would notice. I stored the remainder of my uniform in the back seat of my car and shut the door. I then went into the back of my car, lifted the rear rubber mat, and retrieved the most important tools I would need on this journey, my guns.

  I have found that in the prepper community, there is lively talk about what kind of guns to possess if the shit really hits the fan. One piece of advice I read said simply, “Get a Glock." Another recommended having five separate firearms including pistols, rifles and shotguns of various calibers and thousands of rounds of ammunition so a person could successfully fight off the hordes of Zombie Nazi Bikers that would inevitably rise out of the ashes to loot and murder. There was little discussion about carrying a gun in the car, so I improvised and came up with my own 2-gun configuration to meet my needs. My first gun is a Generation 2 Glock 22 in 40 S&W. Since coming to the U.S. in the late 1980’s, Glock dominated the police market because it was simple, easy to repair, and extremely durable. It could be neglected for long periods of time and still fire when required. A not so common fact about police officers is that they tend to abuse equipment, so a pistol that could take hard use and neglect was quite attractive to large police forces. I carried a Glock for several years as a police officer and found it to be both tough and reliable. When my department switched over to the Smith and Wesson, officers were offered the opport
unity to purchase their old duty weapons. For the price they were offering, I jumped at the chance. I also bought a couple of extra ones when they went on the market and stored them with my cache. My original service weapon was stored in my car in a custom made Kydex holster along with three magazines and 150 rounds of hollow point ammunition. My second gun I had was what I lovingly referred to as my “car gun." It was an AR-15, with a 16-inch heavy barrel, flat top for optics, and a Magpul stock, fore end, and grip. I put it together myself for under $600 just after the gun grab panic of 2013.

  Once people got wise to the fact that the President was going to use the tragedy of Newtown for his plans to disarm the public, the electorate responded as in any good democracy. Legislators stopped any further regulations from being passed as voters kicked out a few representatives to send the message that the public politely refused to be disarmed slaves under a socialist. Guns and gun parts started to appear on the market, so I set to work building as many AR’s I could before the next pretext to grab our guns revealed itself.

  I took the weapon from its locked storage area in the spare tire compartment, pushed home the front takedown pin which joined the two parts of the rifle together and then pushed home the rear takedown pin in, completing the assembly of the rifle. I set the weapon aside and broke out the 9 Magpul magazines and 270 rounds of standard military green tipped ammunition that I carried along with the rifle. I also carried some red tipped tracers mixed in with the standard ammo and 20 red and silver tipped incendiary rounds I picked up on an auction site just in case. With the ammunition laid out in the rear of the Subaru, I began the loading process. Luckily, the bullets I bought came on 10 round stripper clips, so the loading process was easy.

  As I was loading, I saw Simone and another guy named Robert break away from the main group and head my way. I continued my task until Simone got off of her bike and said, “Saaaay…..What you got there Ben?” I grinned evilly and replied, “This here is my car gun, her name is Ludmilla.” I said in my best Russian accent.

  Simone covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, “Don’t they only do that in the movies, name their guns I mean?”

  I snorted, “I suppose so, but I wanted to gauge your reaction. Maybe you think I am a nut now?”

  It was Simone’s turn to snort “Nah, but I do think I underestimated you a bit, what other surprises do you got in that car of yours broham?”

  I gave Simone the fish eye….”I just might have a few things for you if you’re nice to me.” I winked at her and continued to load my magazines.

  “Me and Robert want to go with you. Robert lives in Whitewater and is a UW campus security officer, and you know me, I’m headed to Waukesha.”

  During this exchange, Robert stood mute next to his parked bike. He was squat in appearance, but you could see by his frame he was solidly built, and could probably snap everyone around in half without breaking a sweat. Robert did not stand out much in the class, he preferred to stay in the back row of students and observe, I couldn’t recall him saying ten words past the mandatory meet and greet session that we all had to speak at and give some information about ourselves. As I looked at him, his dark hooded eyes stared back at me impassively, but I could see that he was taking in everything and analyzing it carefully.

  “Is that true Robert, you want to come with Simone and Me?”

  “Yes. When we get to Whitewater, I‘m sure I could offer you and Simone a place to rest and some supplies.”

  I looked at Simone, and she nodded in that sharp and affirmative way she had.

  “Ok Robert, you’re coming with us, hopefully by tomorrow or the next day we should arrive at Whitewater.”

  Just as we were making final preparations to leave, Judy, the only other female in the class approached our small group. She was tall and lanky, pale skinned, with a thin, angular face and a bob haircut. She walked with the intensity of a stork; her head jutted forward, looking for something to peck at. Her long legs propelled her at a quick clip wherever she went. She approached the mighty Subaru with a sour look on her face, which matched our late instructor Gary’s countenance. I noticed that she and Gary seemed to hit it off right away, and she appeared to hang on his every word and openly flirted with him during breaks. I noticed that when she heard of his death, she disappeared for a bit, and when she returned her face was puffy, and it had been obvious she was crying. She pushed through Robert and Simone as if they were swinging doors in an old-westsaloonand walked up to me with her purposeful stride and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I looked her up and down while I continued to load my magazines, “Out of here and back to Milwaukee; you got a problem with that Judy?”

  She sniffed and eyeballed me like a miffed librarian, “The rest of us had a meeting and decided to stay together as a group until help comes for us, so you can’t leave.”

  She continued to stare at me at me like she found me at the bottom of her shoe. I also noticed she was looking over my bicycle and supplies spread about my tailgate. She looked at me again and snapped, “Did you hear me Ben, you and your friends aren’t going anywhere!” She looked at Simone and Robert with barely contained disgust, as if they were traitors to the larger group for wanting to leave.

  I began to snicker and stood up off my tailgate, “Excuse me Judy, but last time I checked, I’ve got hair under my arms and around my privates, so that makes me an adult. As adults, my friends and I have decided to leave.” I sat back down on my tailgate and sighed, “You can’t stop us sweetheart, and if you tried, it would go badly for you.”

  I fixed her with a look that could freeze lava, and returned to loading my magazines.

  She attempted to return a matching hard look, which failed miserably, and sputtered “We took a vote and decided that you can’t leave, and that’s final!” she stomped her foot to emphasize her point.

  “Who is this nebulous ‘we’? And why did they put you in charge? Face it lady, you aren’t very scary and I don’t recall voting to place you in charge of this multi-jurisdictional group. I know that my Department would want me to hightail it back to Milwaukee immediately on an occasion like this, so I’m respectfully refusing your request to remain.” I started to pack my magazines in my load-bearing vest and slipped it on when I was done, looking at her as I snapped the plastic buckles into place.

  Judy continued her nonsensical rant as if she hadn’t heard a word I said, “We also decided that you are to hand over your weapons so that we can defend ourselves until help arrives.”

  I picked up a magazine and continued to place bullets into my magazines using the stripper clips, and pointedly ignoring Judy. The zzzzzzip of the stripper clipped rounds seating in the magazines filled my ears as she continued to glare at me, waiting for me to acquiesce to her demands.

  She eyed my AR-15 like it was a venomous snake, but I could see in her eyes that once she saw my weapons, she alone decided that that she would confiscate themfor the common good. It was obvious that the small knot of people that found my analysis of the current situation implausible decided to follow Judy’s lead and force me to surrender my supplies. That was simply not going to happen. I believed that we were in very deep trouble, and if we didn’t get that through our heads, we were going to be sitting ducks come nightfall. I would have been overjoyed if the group had decided to break camp and get out of Madison, but paralysis had set in, and thanks to Judy’s manipulations, the group made the fatal error of staying put. I was certainly not going to be a part of that, neither was Simone or Robert. I decided to end this debate between Judy and I.

  I loaded a magazine into the magazine well of the rifle, hit the bolt release, and pointed the muzzle in Judy’s general direction and whispered harshly, “Look here you fucking douche bag, I’m not surrendering my weapons to you under any circumstances; you got that straight! My friends and I are leaving once they are prepared, and that’s final. We’ll be history in ten minutes, so in the meantime, I’m going to ask you to take a seat on my ta
ilgate and sit quietly. If you make any attempt to warn your fellow moochers, I will place a 5.56 millimeter bullet right between your eyes without the slightest hesitation.”

  Simone had her police issue semi–auto also pointed at Judy to further emphasize our point. Her back was to Judy’s group concealing her handgun from view to all except the intended target.

  Seeing that she had bitten off far too much than she could chew, Judy meekly took a seat on my tailgate and sat quietly while I finished packing my bike. I saw a tear fall from her left eye, and she whispered to nobody in particular, “This isn’t fair, you have so much and the group has so little, you have to share your stuff so we can all survive.”

  She began silently to blubber, and I heard her say, “Gary would have forced you to stay, he was so much smarter and better than you…..you asshole!”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at her feeble attempt at forcing me to become part of her little tribe. I couldn’t believe people like her would demand that I sharemy stuff to help out people who had the same information as me and did nothing to prepare for emergencies. Now that they were in a jam, they take a page directly from the communist playbook and “decided” as a group to appropriate my stuff and re-distribute it for the betterment of their group? What did I expect, I thought to myself; Judy had the current President’s motto “Beneficial Transformation Through Wealth Transfer” or BTWT as it was known on the campaign trail, sticker on her Prius after all!