Brace for Impact (Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book 1) Page 3

  Leah thought fast. The incubators were all-in-one units supplying oxygen and heat and all the vital signs for the preemies. Without them, the nurses would need to cobble the same equipment together to make them work.

  She paused on the landing. “The sixth floor has a bunch of manual oxygen tanks. They use them for the mobile COPD patients.”

  Kelly spun around. “Get them and meet me on five. Hurry.”

  Leah nodded, racing up the remaining flights, past Kelly who threw open the door to the fifth floor and on up to the sixth. She tugged on the door and stopped in the hall. Darkness enveloped her. Where are the emergency lights?

  She stepped into the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone here?” Damn it. She didn’t know where the oxygen tanks were located and without at least a little light, she would never find them in time. She threw open the first door. An empty room. The second was more of the same.

  Cupping her hands around her mouth, Leah shouted into the dark. “Anyone! Please I need help!”

  A single circle of light bobbed around the corner and came to rest at Leah’s eye level. She shielded her face with her hand.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Leah Walton from the ER. I need portable oxygen tanks for the NICU.”

  The light lowered and Leah blinked. Spots of gray and red floated before her eyes as the flashlight beam approached. “Sorry, the dark is freaking me out.”

  “Stacy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank goodness.” Leah grabbed her arm. “Can you show me where the rolling oxygen tanks are? The incubators aren’t working. We have ten babies that need to breathe.”

  “This way.” Stacy hurried down the hall and opened a door. Inside sat an entire collection of oxygen. “I’ll help get them downstairs.”

  “Thanks. What’s going on? Where are the lights?”

  Stacy shook her head. “Beats me. Maybe they turn off when it’s an emergency?”

  “The ER has backup lights.”

  “We’re an outpatient floor. Everyone goes home by five. It’s just me, an admin, and two other nurses.”

  Leah grabbed three tanks and hoisted them into her arms. They were heavier than she anticipated. She grunted and stepped into the hall. “See if the other nurses can help. We need to hurry.”

  Stacy grabbed two tanks and followed behind Leah, shouting as she entered the hall. “Lisa! Martine!”

  Leah didn’t wait. She huffed down the stairs, careful not to drop a tank, as footsteps sounded above her.

  She set the tanks down to open the door, cringing at the delay. All the babies were suffering. She might be too late.

  Grabbing the tanks, she rushed onto the floor. The commotion down the corridor caught her attention and Leah headed that way. The NICU was in full-on attack mode. Kelly and two other nurses rushed around, checking vitals on all the babies.

  Leah set the tanks down. “I’ve got three and more are on the way.”

  Kelly looked up from one of the babies. “Hook them up. There are spare tubes on the far wall.”

  Leah didn’t hesitate. She opened drawers and found the necessary equipment and readied the tanks for delivery. Another nurse she didn’t know took two of the tanks as Stacy rushed in with two more nurses on her heels.

  “We’ve got eight more.”

  “Bring them here, we can set them up.” Leah ushered the women over and together they worked to hook up the oxygen and start the flow.

  The NICU nurses took every tank as they finished, swapping out the breathing tubes of babies so small they made Leah shudder.

  Kelly motioned to the wash station. “Can you scrub up? We need to keep them warm.”

  “What about warming blankets?”

  “They’ll all under stress. Skin-to-skin will work best.”

  Leah nodded. She knew even the littlest ones thrived on that kind of love. She scrubbed alongside Stacy while the other two nurses waited in line. In a matter of minutes, they had four warm bodies ready and eager.

  Stacy ushered each woman to a chair and with delicate hands, moved the teeny preemies one at a time to waiting arms. Leah choked back a wave of tears. So small. The infant cradled in her left arm struggled with every breath, chest wobbling on an inhale, shuddering on an exhale.

  She glanced up at Kelly. “Will they all make it?”

  “I hope so. As soon as the power went out, we wheeled them all together. There’s four oxygen tanks always in reserve here, but we’re close to capacity at the moment. Hailey rigged up solo lines for our two most critical while Jen spliced the other line and increased the flow.”

  She exhaled and eased down into the only remaining chair with a single baby in her arms. “We’ll see if it worked. Now if only the power would come all the way back on.”

  Stacy chimed in. “The sixth floor is totally dark. Not a single light.”

  Lisa from Stacy’s unit agreed. “It isn’t just the hospital, either. I looked out the window when the power went out. I can’t see a single light that isn’t a car.”

  “What?” Leah glanced up. “It’s that big?”

  Lisa nodded. “I think the whole city is dark.”

  “That’s half a million people.”

  “If it’s bigger than just the city limits, we’re talking millions.”

  Kelly hung her head. “If all of Atlanta is in a blackout, we’re about to get a heck of a lot busier. We need to get these babies stable without holding them. The rest of the hospital will need you.”

  The only nurse not holding a baby spoke up. “I’ll go down to the ER and snag some warming blankets they use for hypothermia patients. We can cut them down to size and use them for the babies.”

  Kelly nodded as she thought it over. “We’ll double up the smallest babies in the incubators, too. That will help maintain the temperature without having to hold them all.”

  Leah chewed on her lip as she stared down at the pair of sleeping babies in her arms. “What happens if the power doesn’t come back online soon?”

  Kelly hesitated. “We do the best we can. What other choice do we have?”

  Leah thought about all of her husband’s messages. The blackout was bigger than Georgia Memorial Hospital. Bigger than even the city of Atlanta. Whatever was happening out there, Leah feared the loss of power was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Chapter Five

  LEAH

  Georgia Memorial Hospital

  Downtown Atlanta

  Friday, 8:00 p.m.

  As Leah eased the last baby down into an incubator, a NICU nurse wrapped her in a warming blanket cut specifically for her size. The last few hours had given Leah a newfound appreciation for the nurses of the fifth floor. She could never care for a baby so tiny and vulnerable all day. She would lose her mind.

  “You all right?”

  Leah smiled at Kelly and nodded. “Just in awe of everything you do. That’s all.” She stepped over to the sink and lathered up her hands and arms. “I don’t have the strength.”

  Kelly looked out over the room. Nurses stood at every incubator, manually checking vitals and oxygen levels. “It’s tough, but rewarding. When those little guys go home, it’s worth it.”

  Leah swallowed. She hoped this time it would be that simple. “You think this is just a blackout?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “We’ve been dark a long time. Usually the hospital comes back online first.” She dried her hands and pulled out her phone. “I haven’t been able to make a call since we lost power. Have you?”

  “Haven’t tried.” Kelly pulled out her own phone and tried to place a call. After a moment, she frowned and hit end. “All I get is a busy signal.”

  “Same here.”

  “Is anyone from the ER here?” A voice called out from the hallway and Leah turned. A member of the support staff stood with a clipboard and a flashlight.

  Leah volunteered. “I’m from the ER.”

  Relief spread across the woman’s face. “We need you back o
n one. We’re at capacity and it’s a bit crazy down there.”

  Leah walked toward the door. “At capacity? From what?”

  “Car crashes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We can talk on the way. Come on.” The woman motioned toward the hall and Leah followed.

  She stopped at the doorway and turned back to Kelly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “We’re fine thanks to you. Go.”

  Leah nodded and jogged to catch up with the woman from the ER. “Sorry. I was helping with the NICU.” She held out her hand. “I’m Leah Walton.”

  The woman paused. “Wendy Clarkson. I work the night shift.”

  Leah smiled. “I only work days. Nice to meet you.”

  Wendy held the door open and Leah slipped into the stairwell. They hustled down side-by-side.

  “Did you come in after the blackout?”

  Wendy nodded. “It’s chaos out there. When the lights went out, a ton of cars stopped working. Everything new just stalled out in the middle of the road.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Five crashes happened right in front of my bus. The old cars were still running, so they hit everything that wasn’t. My bus still worked, but it couldn’t get anywhere because the roads were jammed. I walked a mile to get here.”

  Leah exhaled. There was no way she could get to her sister’s place north of town now. Forty miles might as well have been three hundred. She jerked her head up as another thought hit her. “What about ambulances and fire trucks? Are they working?”

  Wendy shook her head. “Not any of the newer ones. We replaced our fleet a few years ago, so I’m sure they’re toast. I’d bet some police cars still work. There’s a lot of old ones still driving around.”

  Leah tried to piece it together. “How old are you talking?”

  “Before cars turned into computers on wheels.” Wendy glanced up at the ceiling as they hit the third floor. “I saw an old beater of a pickup still running. Maybe from the seventies? And a Buick like my grandfather used to have. Definitely a relic.”

  Leah swallowed down a wave of panic. “This doesn’t sound like a typical blackout.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  They hit the ground floor and Wendy paused with her hand on the push bar. “Are you ready for this?”

  “That bad?”

  Wendy nodded. “Most of the administration staff is gone. They left for the weekend before the blackout hit. No one’s here to run anything.”

  “Crap.”

  “Worse.” Wendy pushed the door open and the sounds of chaos blasted into the stairwell. “Help wherever you can for as long as you can.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be at the main desk triaging incoming patients.”

  “Thanks.” Leah watched Wendy hustle down the hall and she swallowed. Her shift ended hours ago. Other nurses were there to take her place. She knew Grant would want her to turn around and leave. Find some way to get out of the city and to her sister’s place. But she took an oath to help people in need.

  Patients lined the hallway on gurneys and in wheelchairs. One woman sat holding a bloody rag to her head. Another groaned and doubled over, clutching her stomach. Leah couldn’t leave people like this. It was why she became a nurse.

  But her husband and family needed her, too.

  “Nurse, please. Come quick.” A doctor in a bloodied lab coat waved at her from three doors down.

  Leah walked on autopilot toward him. He ushered her inside a room where a man thrashed on the bed. A gash across his head dripped blood into his eyes, but it didn’t seem to faze him at all. He gesticulated wildly, flinging his arms across his body again and again.

  “You all are going to die! It’s the end of the damn world and you’re standing around like idiots! Run! Run! Run!”

  Leah glanced at the doctor.

  “Don’t ask me. He was like this when he came in, ranting about Apocalypse Now and Armageddon.” He turned to the patient and smiled. “It’s just a blackout, sir. Now lie still so I can stitch up that cut.”

  “No!” The man jerked in the bed. “It’s not a blackout! It’s just the beginning. We’ve been attacked! Don’t you get it? It’s the start of World War III!”

  Leah stepped closer and drew the patient’s attention. “You mean like a bomb? Or air strikes?”

  The man stopped flailing and turned toward her. His blue eyes widened as he calmed. “Worse. A high-altitude ballistic missile with a nuclear warhead attached.”

  “A what?” Leah shook her head as the man rattled off the same description again. “What is that? A nuclear bomb?” She tksed. “That’s impossible. We’d all be dead.”

  The man leaned back and rested his head on the pillows. “Not at high altitude. When a nuclear explosion occurs hundreds of miles up in the atmosphere, it triggers a massive electromagnetic pulse. An EMP.”

  Leah bit her lip and watched from the corner of her eye as the doctor brought a side table and suture kit over to the patient’s bed. The man had be a professor or one of those fringe types who spent all his time on the internet. Whichever, it didn’t matter. As long as he talked to her, he didn’t try to attack the doctor. She had to keep it going.

  “I don’t understand.” Leah forced a helpless smile. “Can you explain it?”

  The man lit up like she’d told him he’d won the lottery. “An EMP is a wave, like a radio wave, but full of energy. There are three different types. E1, E2, and E3. Solar storms and space weather give off the E3 type—it’s a low, lumbering wave that will fry the power grid, but not much more.”

  The doctor leaned in and began to clean the wound. He motioned at Leah to keep the patient talking.

  She stammered. “But I… uh… heard cars don’t work.”

  “Exactly.” The man didn’t even blink when the doctor swiped numbing agent across his forehead. “That’s why this isn’t a natural blackout. High-altitude nuclear detonations release a massive E1 EMP. Those will fry anything with a big enough computer. Most of the power grid, new cars, big computers. Smaller things like phones and watches and even some computers if they weren’t plugged in will still work. But that’s it.”

  Leah exhaled. Stitches were the only thing left. The doctor opened the suture kit and pierced the man’s skin just above the gash. The patient flinched and Leah asked the first thing that came to mind. “When will it all come back on? Does the power company just reset it?”

  He snorted. “It’s not that simple. The EMP melted the wires and exploded generators. There’s probably a million fires raging up and down the East Coast.”

  “What are you saying?”

  The doctor finished the last stitch and the patient surged forward. “Enjoy the backup generators while they last. When they go out, that’s all the electricity you’re going to get.”

  Leah’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

  “I wish I were. But an EMP like that wrecks everything in its path. The power won’t be coming back on.”

  Forget keeping him talking, if what the man said were true, Leah needed to know more. “Do you know how widespread the blackout is? Is it just Atlanta?”

  “I was sitting with my laptop trying to get on the web to find out when a sports car slammed into the bus stop. Lucky he didn’t kill me.”

  Leah frowned. “I thought you said cars weren’t working.”

  “His wasn’t. The idiot put it in neutral and pushed it down the hill. He thought he’d catch up to it and ride it all the way down.”

  Whoa. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Tell me about it.” The man smiled at the doctor. “Thanks for fixing me up.”

  The doctor nodded. “Thanks for not attacking me.”

  “Your nurse deserves that thanks. I was so wound up with what happened and the pain, I lost it there for a bit.” His eyes narrowed at the doctor. “Didn’t help that no one would listen.”

  Leah pulled out her phone.
“If I can get on the web, do you think there will be some news?”

  “There must be, but I’m afraid you won’t have any luck. There’s too many people here all trying the same thing. The network can’t handle this type of capacity.”

  She slid her phone back in her pocket. “What do we do now?”

  The patient glanced at the door. “If I were you, I would get the hell out of the city. It’ll only get worse from here on out.”

  Chapter Six

  GRANT

  Rental Car Facility, Charlotte International Airport

  Charlotte, North Carolina

  Friday, 8:00 p.m.

  Grant stared out the windshield into the darkness. This can’t be real. He tried the key again, but nothing happened. With a groan, he pulled it from the ignition, got out, and retrieved his luggage. Darlene wouldn’t be happy to see him.

  He hustled back to the office and yanked on the door. It didn’t budge. Oh, no. He stuck his face against the glass and cupped his hand around his eyes to see inside. No flashlight and no Darlene.

  Did she leave? He stepped back and scanned the door for store hours—8 a.m. to 8 p.m., Monday through Friday.

  Grant checked his watch. Five after eight. Damn it. She couldn’t have gone far. No car lights lit up the lot and Grant didn’t hear any engines. He hurried around to the back and searched the lot for any sign of her.

  One car sat in a parking spot behind the building, close to the rear entrance. A little Honda with bright red paint and a bubble butt. Movement inside caught his eye. Darlene. She banged on the steering wheel with both fists and her blonde hair fluffed in front of her face.

  Grant hurried forward. She couldn’t leave without him. He rapped on the driver’s-side window. Darlene jerked in her seat and even with the windows rolled up, her scream pierced the night.

  He held up his hands in apology and Darlene’s shock gave way to irritation. She pushed open her door.

  “Won’t start?”

  “No.” She ran a hand through her hair and tamed the worst of it. “Which makes zero sense. This car is brand new.”