Sunday, July 12, 2015

Prologue

September 15th, 11:50pm

Superstorm Nicole had been closely monitored for the past five days. Its lower half formed as a tropical storm in the southern Caribbean Sea and the northern half started as a massive cold front in the Great Lakes region. Once the weather fronts converged, a storm of colossal magnitude—one larger than any meteorologist could have fathomed—threatened to wreak havoc on the eastern seaboard. Nobody in power wanted another damage-laden incident such as Hurricane Sandy in their midst, so all of the necessary precautions had been taken to evacuate communities within the Storm’s path as well as prepare those living in the outer proximity for blackouts and adverse weather conditions. Everyone living within 100 miles of the east coast were advised to stay indoors and stock up on supplies before the storm hit mainland. FEMA, the Red Cross, and volunteer first responders from across the nation were poised and ready to provide assistance at a moment’s notice.

While meteorologists, FEMA, and politicians alike all took deep, baited breaths as they waited for reports of the Superstorm's aftermath, the staff in small, coastal weather monitoring stations were paralyzed with blind terror as they stared at the beach. The ocean seemed to have disappeared; the tide had been pulled so far back by the approaching storm that there was nothing but sand and dead fish where waves once crashed. Gale-force winds whipped against palm trees and piers as the warm and cold air began to mix, cyclones sprouting from the sky soon afterward.

The ocean rushed back into shore, almost as if it had forgotten something important at home and needed to get back in a hurry. Condos and cottages along the coast were torn to shreds by the tsunami, the simple wooden frames unable to withstand the force of the two-story-high waves beating against them. Vehicles, dumpsters, and the debris of felled buildings were engulfed and dragged far out into the ocean, never to be seen again. As the Superstorm reached its full potential, winds reaching in excess of 120 miles an hour were downing power lines all along the East Coast.

Unexpectedly, the Superstorm began to turn west, its full power striking some towns as far inland as 50 miles. Telephone poles were breaking like kindling in the strong winds—some tumbling like dominoes in flat areas were the Superstorm had nothing to obstruct its path. So many power and telephone lines were faulting simultaneously that computers didn’t have the capacity to report all of the faults to the proper authorities.

Any of the remaining intact power lines began to overheat as they struggled to compensate for the absent electricity in other lines. Though cell phone towers were thought to be indestructible, the Storm proved their architects wrong as they began to sway, bend, and even break in the gusts. Even the towers that remained intact were at the mercy of a power station with only a few hours of backup generator time and the relay system on which cellular service was based.

Right around the time that damage reports began to roll in from the East Coast and those in charge began to realize the sheer magnitude of the initial damage, those working in power stations hundreds of miles away from the Storm were rushing to see why their screens were sounding alarms—minutes before their screens went black and silence rang in their ears.

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