Ryan Westfield - Getting Out

Max sat in his cubicle with his chair pointed to the window. Hed been staring outside for the last twenty minutes, unable to concentrate on his work. On the best days, the work seemed pointless. On the worst, it was a nightmare.

It was supposed to be a good job, decent pay, good benefits. He had a real career, unlike some of his friends, who were still working odd jobs here and there. If his parents had been alive, they would have been proud of him.

But it wasnt what he wanted to do. The problem? He didnt know what he wanted to do. He only knew that things didnt feel right. Something was wrong with the world, and Max already knew that it wasnt going to get any better.

Psst, Max, whispered Jeremy, his cubicle neighbor.

Huh? said Max, waking up from his little daydream.

Youve been staring out the window for like forever, man, said Jeremy. Big Tom is going to come around soon, you know.

Screw Big Tom, said Max. Big Tom was the boss, a guy with a much bigger gut than a heart. Max figured him for some kind of sadist whod happened to get into the line of work that allowed him to pursue his true passiontorturing his employees with meaningless reports and metrics, whatever the hell those were.

Whats that? said Big Tom, moving slowly into view, blocking Maxs view of the window.

Shit, muttered Jeremy nervously. He immediately hunched back over his desk and started working furiously on some meaningless project.

Hi, Tom, said Max calmly. He wasnt in the mood today to really give a shit about any of this. Maybe he should just quit, and head up to the old farmhouse that his dad had left him when hed passed away. Max had been meaning to head up there and check the place out for a while. The old house hadnt been used in years, but Max had been toying with the fantasy of creating a homestead there. The only problem? He didnt know much about homesteading, having grown up in the suburbs away from real nature.

I heard what you said, hissed Big Tom, leaning down towards Max, bracing his hands on his khaki-covered knees.

Yeah? said Max.

Suddenly, something happened.

The lights went out. Everything went out.

A tremendous silence hung in the air.

What was that? said Big Tom, standing up straight and looking around.

Max swiveled his chair around to face his computer again. He felt as if he was expecting something He had a feeling about what happened, but his mind couldnt put it directly into thoughts.

The computer was completely blank. Dead.

Max hit the power button, but nothing happened.

Someone cut the electricity, shouted Big Tom.

Max looked around, seeing that everyone elses computers were dead as well. Max picked up the phone. There wasnt a dial tone. Hastily, he took his phone out of his pocket, but the screen was black.

Its not just the power, Max said.

Theyre going to pay for this, shouted Big Tom again. Dont they realize how much money well lose?

Max sat still in his chair for a moment.

So it was happening.

This was what hed been thinking about for two years now: some kind of EMP event. Max didnt exactly understand the specifics, but he knew that, given the right circumstances, solar flares on the sun could create electromagnetic pulses strong enough to wipe out most electronics on Earth.

This was a big part of the malaise hed been feeling for so long: he knew that something was very wrong in the world. The infrastructure was simply too fragile. Everything relied on a shipping system, and everything relied on electronics that could easily be disabled or promptly deactivated with an EMP. Or something else. There were a million things that could happen that could cause a cataclysmic shutdown of modern society, and Max had spent hours on the internet reading about them all.

That didnt mean he was exactly prepared for an event.

But perhaps he was a little more prepared than most. At home, he had a rudimentary bug out bag that hed started preparing. In it, he had a basic medical kit, some veterinary antibiotics, a hunting knife, an axe, and a couple odds and ends hed assembled over the years. It wasnt a complete kit, and when Maxs thoughts turned to it in this moment, he cursed himself for not having gone whole hog on the idea.

Max knew it was time to act.

Everyone in the office was starting to panic, as they pulled out their cell phones and realized that they all didnt work. They realized, unlike the boss, Big Tom, that this wasnt just a mere power outage. Soon, everyone in Claymore would be panicking, all trying to drive home. The roads would be blocked off.

Max had one thing on his mind: get home, get his gear, and high tail it to the old farmhouse, where hed be away from the panic and chaos that would ensue.

Max was surprised how calm he felt, and how quickly his mind went right to the solution. He knew this was his advantage, and that everyone else would take days, if not weeks, to come to the same conclusion.

Max got up from his swivel chair so quickly that it slammed right into his desk, making a huge noise.

Since no machines or electronics were running, the room had fallen deafeningly silent, except for the mutterings of the boss. Everyone else sat frightened in their cubicles, unmoving, perhaps whispering to each other.

Maxs chair made a surprisingly loud sound against the background of dead silence.

Where do you think youre going, Max? shouted Big Tom.

Home, said Max, deadpan.

Dude, whispered Jeremy, looking up at Max from his chair. Sit back down if you want a job. Hes in a bad mood.

So am I, said Max.

Max ignored his colleagues and darted towards the exit. It was deadly silent. No one was even whispering.

The overhead lights were of course off, natural light streaming in from the office windows.

Big Tom moved swiftly to block his way. He stood in front of Max in the doorway to the exit.

Max could feel that all eyes were on him.

One of the precautions hed taken a year ago, when hed started getting more into a mindset of preparedness, was to carry a few important and practical possessions with him at all times. One was his well-oiled pocket knife with a thumb stud. The other was his Glock 17, which sat hidden in his holster inside the waist band of his pants, with his shirt un-tucked and covering it. It was considered by some too big to carry daily, but Max had found that once hed gotten used to it, he didnt mind it. Most of the time, he knew it was there, but he liked the feeling of the weight and heft against his hip.

But Max had a calm head, and he wasnt about to shoot his boss for merely getting in his way. He knew that Big Tom wasnt a serious danger. He was just a nuisance. The real dangers would come in the coming days, provided the power wasnt restored, and considering the nature of an EMP, Max knew that that wasnt possible.

Get out of my way, said Max in a low and calm voice, but one that meant business.

You walk out that door, Max, and youre out a job, hissed Big Tom. He tried to stand up tall, puffing up his chest. But Max wasnt the least bit intimidated.

Dont you get it? said Max. This isnt just a power outage. Dont you see that everythings off? Check your cell phone. This is the end of the world weve been living in.

Youre crazy, said Big Tom. But he sounded scared. Im telling you, Max. Walk out that door now, and thats the last straw. Youve spent too many days staring out the window. One more demerit on your record and youre done. And forget about a recommendation.

Max just shook his head in disbelief. He knew people would be slow to catch on, but actually confronting the reality of it was astounding.