36 Hours: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series by Bobby Akart Page A

Political Advisor. “If we issue a warning that the world is coming to an end because the sun is having a bad day and nothing happens, we’ll lose credibility. Do I need to remind everyone of the public perception hit we took after cancelling the Daytona 500?”
    “We have to craft a measured response to the experts that are hitting the news networks,” replied Secretary Sullivan. “I can call a press conference and issue a statement that exudes control and composure while providing the facts as we know them. If the media doesn’t sense panic, it won’t hit the airwaves to create panic. Perhaps we can invite the White House press corps to photograph and observe the President playing with her grandkids.”
    “Good idea,” said the President. She swiveled and looked out into the beautiful, sunny day. “I’ll play ball with them on the South Lawn for a photo op. You know, just another day.”
    “Okay, I can sign off on that,” said the Chief Political Advisor, turning his attention to Secretary Sullivan. “But keep your statement terse—simple language and just a few words.”
    “With all due respect,” started Secretary Sullivan. “I think that’s a mistake. I can’t tell the American people they are at risk and then not give them sufficient information to create an informed decision. They will turn to the media for answers, and that will ramp up the speculation.”
    The conversation was now becoming heated. The Chief Political Advisor shot back, “You can’t cry wolf either. If this solar flare does nothing but cause a lot of pretty colors in the sky and you take us to the functional equivalent of DEFCON 2, the public will never respond to our warnings again. What if the Russians fire off a nuke and the public ignores our alerts?”
    “Then we’ll deal with that if it happens. I’m telling everyone in this room that AR3222 has delivered its own nuclear payload, and it’s headed right for us. Whether our country is hit by a Russian nuke or this massive CME, the result is the same—lights out!”
     

Chapter 21
    10 Hours
    1:00 p.m., September 8
    Davidson Academy
    Nashville, Tennessee
     
    Madison hurried through the security checkpoint inside the entrance of Davidson Academy and started down the hallway to where she thought Alex’s algebra class was located. The security guard hollered after her.
    “Mrs. Ryman!” the guard shouted. “You’ll need to stop by the principal’s office first and state your reason for being here. Most likely, you’ll be accompanied by a guidance counselor to your daughter’s room.”
    Madison stopped and listened to the guard. But as soon as he turned to clear another visitor, she hurried down the hall. She ducked down a corridor toward her right and began to walk briskly, hoping to avoid detection. She contemplated removing her sandals, which made a loud clap on the polished tile floors as she moved from room to room.
    She peered through the six-inch-wide, two-foot-tall windows that were located in each of the classroom doors. At the next-to-last room before the end of the hallway, she saw Alex sitting in the second row. She reached for the doorknob and then hesitated.
    Last chance, Maddie , she whispered, referring to herself with the name only her husband was allowed to use.
    She gently knocked on the door and entered, startling the teacher, who turned toward her. Alex immediately saw her and mouthed the words— What, Mom?
    “I am so sorry to interrupt, but I need my daughter, Alexis Ryman, to come with me. We have a family situation to deal with.”
    The kids in the classroom started to whisper among themselves, and the teacher admonished them to settle down. He looked past Madison, apparently expecting to see a school administrator.
    “Have you checked in at the front office, Mrs. Ryman?”
    “Oh, yes, of course,” she lied. “I told them I knew where Alex’s class was located and that an escort wasn’t necessary. They were all very busy and told me to