Zero Hour + 01:03:00; 4:00 p.m. EST; University of North Florida, Jacksonville Florida; the Apartment of Terry and Sabrina Wagner
Terry Wagner was a newlywed husband and a student at the University of North Florida. He was just 24-years-old, but as his 6-foot frame filled half of the window, he stared out of his second-floor apartment at the increasingly chaotic streets of Jacksonville, he knew that he and his wife couldn’t stay in the city. The night before he had heard the deafening sounds of breaking glass, and what he could only presume was gunfire in the distance as he held his wife, Sabrina, and tried to sleep.
Until yesterday, Sabrina, a graduate of UNF herself, had been the contented 23-year-old bride setting up housekeeping for her and her husband in their first apartment. Life was largely divided between working her first job at the art gallery and choosing inexpensive and still quaintly charming furnishings for their fresh home. That all changed when the lights went out.
Now, only a day since the power went out, already the city streets just a short walk from campus were beginning to echo scenes from a Hollywood movie about urban unrest. The couple knew that in a few days, they wouldn’t be safe there.
“Bri, honey,” Terry said to his wife as her tiny 5-foot-5-inch body stealthily passed behind him walking toward their bedroom. “We have to leave. We can’t stay here. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I am sure it’s making people a little crazy.”
Sabrina agreed as she stopped only for a moment to run her fingers through his cropped blonde hair. She had already packed some clothes into an old hiking backpack that Terry kept in the closet. She never really understood why he had it. He wasn’t an outdoorsman of any kind and preferred to hunt goblins in video games to the prospect of hunting for a meal or fishing for any reason other than recreation.
“I’ve already packed a few things,” she told him as she passed from sight. Through the walls, he could hear her continue her thoughts out loud. “We just need to pack up some food and water and such. Then, we can get going. Where should we go?”
Terry thought of his mother in Melbourne, just about a 3-hour drive south from him. But without a working car even that seemed a daunting journey.
“I’m not sure, but we have to at least get out of the city and away from people,” he told her.
As Sabrina rifled through the closet to search for anything useful or meaningful as the pair prepared to leave, she found an old hand cranked emergency weather radio.
“Where on earth did you get this?” she asked. “You’re just full of surprises.”
Terry smiled. He had long forgotten the radio existed. He recalled now that his mother had given it to him when he first left for college. Florida was prone to hurricanes, and she told him she wanted to make sure he had it in case of an emergency. She had also told him to always make sure he had plenty of fresh bottled drinking water on hand and clean underwear — two pieces of advice he now wished he had heeded more readily.
“Well, mom was right,” he conceded as he took the small black radio from his wife’s hand and began to crank the plastic handle.
They heard the revving sound of the crank meant to power the radio as it whined with each turn.
“Do you think it works?” Sabrina asked.
“I’m not sure, but with a few more turns we might know what’s going on,” he replied.
Terry cranked the handle faster and harder until he saw the small red LED light atop the box glowing. He then turned the radio facing himself and began to turn the dial to find any signal. As the dial passed over station frequencies he knew were local news and music stations, the couple heard nothing but static. He slowly continued to turn the dial further and further up the range of radio frequencies until he heard the annoying high pitched tones of an emergency broadcast signal.
“This must be it,” he said hopefully. “It sounds like one of those tests on TV.”
Sabrina took her husband’s hand and turned her head to listen while her short, straight. brown hair brushed against his shoulder. She rested her head on the spot and listened as the message played.
“This is an Emergency Transmission. This is not a test. The Eastern Coastal area of the United States is experiencing massive power outages. Authorities believe that this is the result of a terrorist attack on the nation’s power grid infrastructure. Government officials have declared a state of emergency along the eastern Seaboard that extends as far westward as the Mississippi River. Residents are urged to shelter in place until emergency services are restored. Anyone compelled to travel, or traveling en route to the Western United States is urged to travel cautiously and avoid major population centers. Officials urge residents to remain calm. Roads and bridges may be severely congested. Reports indicate that most vehicles are inoperable at this time as are most cellular phones and other electronic devices. There will be updates every 60 minutes on this frequency and this national emergency broadcast will repeat during that period. Thank you and remain calm. This is an Emergency Transmission. This is not a test. The Eastern Coastal area …”
Sabrina clutched Terry’s hand and held it tightly pulling it to her chest. The couple seemed to gasp at the terrible news in unison.
“You’re right, Terry. We need to get away from the city,” she said frantically. In the past 27 hours she had not felt as helpless or desperate as she did now.
“Keep packing,” Terry told her. “We shouldn’t go to mom. She’s not any better off than we are if this is right. She’s likely with Robert and safe, at least as far as we know. We should head west.”
“Are you sure?” Sabrina asked concerned at the prospect of leaving their families behind.
“I’m as sure as I can be,” he responded attentively. “The recording said that out west was better. At least it’s supposed to be better away from the coast. So, we hike out along I-10 until we reach an area that isn’t blacked out. It might take a few days or maybe a week, but it’s the best plan we have. Once we can get a phone or something, my sister, Emily, is stationed out west. We can call her, and maybe she’ll know what’s going on.”
CRASH! TING! SPLASH!
The startled couple leaped frightfully together as the sound of a nearby window breaking shattered their collective calm and rational thought.
“The sooner the better,” Sabrina replied as she jumped slightly following the noise.
Terry stuffed three bottles of water into the top of his backpack and cinched the draw-string closed. He stuck another in the side pocket of the pack and pulled the cover flap over the top snapping it in place. On the small coffee table were two more bottles of water, and a cardboard box containing a six-pack ofdiet soda. He stuck one bottle in his loose pants pocket and handed the other to Sabrina.
“We’ll take this, too,” he said as he handed the box to his wife. “Put in in your school bag. “Grab some of the sandwich meats, and some of the cans of soup and stuff them in too.”
“I’ve got it,” she said. “Here’s the can opener. We’ll be okay, right?”
“We’re okay,” he answered confidently.
Terry wasn’t entirely sure of his answer. He couldn’t remember being as frightened as he was when he heard the radio broadcast. But, he knew he had to be strong. He knew he had to be confident that the couple could find a safe place. Terry knew he had to keep his wife confident of that, too.
“So, to Emily?” Sabrina nervously asked, in a mostly rhetorical voice. “Sounds good.”
With their bags packed as quickly as they could, and the small weather radio tucked under Terry’s arm, the couple headed out of their apartment door and down the stairs. Cautiously looking ahead and behind them, they crossed the street checking for any signs of trouble, they walked past a road sign that read simply:
“To I-295N”
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Terry Wagner was a newlywed husband and a student at the University of North Florida. He was just 24-years-old, but as his 6-foot frame filled half of the window, he stared out of his second-floor apartment at the increasingly chaotic streets of Jacksonville, he knew that he and his wife couldn’t stay in the city. The night before he had heard the deafening sounds of breaking glass, and what he could only presume was gunfire in the distance as he held his wife, Sabrina, and tried to sleep.
Until yesterday, Sabrina, a graduate of UNF herself, had been the contented 23-year-old bride setting up housekeeping for her and her husband in their first apartment. Life was largely divided between working her first job at the art gallery and choosing inexpensive and still quaintly charming furnishings for their fresh home. That all changed when the lights went out.
Now, only a day since the power went out, already the city streets just a short walk from campus were beginning to echo scenes from a Hollywood movie about urban unrest. The couple knew that in a few days, they wouldn’t be safe there.
“Bri, honey,” Terry said to his wife as her tiny 5-foot-5-inch body stealthily passed behind him walking toward their bedroom. “We have to leave. We can’t stay here. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I am sure it’s making people a little crazy.”
Sabrina agreed as she stopped only for a moment to run her fingers through his cropped blonde hair. She had already packed some clothes into an old hiking backpack that Terry kept in the closet. She never really understood why he had it. He wasn’t an outdoorsman of any kind and preferred to hunt goblins in video games to the prospect of hunting for a meal or fishing for any reason other than recreation.
“I’ve already packed a few things,” she told him as she passed from sight. Through the walls, he could hear her continue her thoughts out loud. “We just need to pack up some food and water and such. Then, we can get going. Where should we go?”
Terry thought of his mother in Melbourne, just about a 3-hour drive south from him. But without a working car even that seemed a daunting journey.
“I’m not sure, but we have to at least get out of the city and away from people,” he told her.
As Sabrina rifled through the closet to search for anything useful or meaningful as the pair prepared to leave, she found an old hand cranked emergency weather radio.
“Where on earth did you get this?” she asked. “You’re just full of surprises.”
Terry smiled. He had long forgotten the radio existed. He recalled now that his mother had given it to him when he first left for college. Florida was prone to hurricanes, and she told him she wanted to make sure he had it in case of an emergency. She had also told him to always make sure he had plenty of fresh bottled drinking water on hand and clean underwear — two pieces of advice he now wished he had heeded more readily.
“Well, mom was right,” he conceded as he took the small black radio from his wife’s hand and began to crank the plastic handle.
They heard the revving sound of the crank meant to power the radio as it whined with each turn.
“Do you think it works?” Sabrina asked.
“I’m not sure, but with a few more turns we might know what’s going on,” he replied.
Terry cranked the handle faster and harder until he saw the small red LED light atop the box glowing. He then turned the radio facing himself and began to turn the dial to find any signal. As the dial passed over station frequencies he knew were local news and music stations, the couple heard nothing but static. He slowly continued to turn the dial further and further up the range of radio frequencies until he heard the annoying high pitched tones of an emergency broadcast signal.
“This must be it,” he said hopefully. “It sounds like one of those tests on TV.”
Sabrina took her husband’s hand and turned her head to listen while her short, straight. brown hair brushed against his shoulder. She rested her head on the spot and listened as the message played.
“This is an Emergency Transmission. This is not a test. The Eastern Coastal area of the United States is experiencing massive power outages. Authorities believe that this is the result of a terrorist attack on the nation’s power grid infrastructure. Government officials have declared a state of emergency along the eastern Seaboard that extends as far westward as the Mississippi River. Residents are urged to shelter in place until emergency services are restored. Anyone compelled to travel, or traveling en route to the Western United States is urged to travel cautiously and avoid major population centers. Officials urge residents to remain calm. Roads and bridges may be severely congested. Reports indicate that most vehicles are inoperable at this time as are most cellular phones and other electronic devices. There will be updates every 60 minutes on this frequency and this national emergency broadcast will repeat during that period. Thank you and remain calm. This is an Emergency Transmission. This is not a test. The Eastern Coastal area …”
Sabrina clutched Terry’s hand and held it tightly pulling it to her chest. The couple seemed to gasp at the terrible news in unison.
“You’re right, Terry. We need to get away from the city,” she said frantically. In the past 27 hours she had not felt as helpless or desperate as she did now.
“Keep packing,” Terry told her. “We shouldn’t go to mom. She’s not any better off than we are if this is right. She’s likely with Robert and safe, at least as far as we know. We should head west.”
“Are you sure?” Sabrina asked concerned at the prospect of leaving their families behind.
“I’m as sure as I can be,” he responded attentively. “The recording said that out west was better. At least it’s supposed to be better away from the coast. So, we hike out along I-10 until we reach an area that isn’t blacked out. It might take a few days or maybe a week, but it’s the best plan we have. Once we can get a phone or something, my sister, Emily, is stationed out west. We can call her, and maybe she’ll know what’s going on.”
CRASH! TING! SPLASH!
The startled couple leaped frightfully together as the sound of a nearby window breaking shattered their collective calm and rational thought.
“The sooner the better,” Sabrina replied as she jumped slightly following the noise.
Terry stuffed three bottles of water into the top of his backpack and cinched the draw-string closed. He stuck another in the side pocket of the pack and pulled the cover flap over the top snapping it in place. On the small coffee table were two more bottles of water, and a cardboard box containing a six-pack ofdiet soda. He stuck one bottle in his loose pants pocket and handed the other to Sabrina.
“We’ll take this, too,” he said as he handed the box to his wife. “Put in in your school bag. “Grab some of the sandwich meats, and some of the cans of soup and stuff them in too.”
“I’ve got it,” she said. “Here’s the can opener. We’ll be okay, right?”
“We’re okay,” he answered confidently.
Terry wasn’t entirely sure of his answer. He couldn’t remember being as frightened as he was when he heard the radio broadcast. But, he knew he had to be strong. He knew he had to be confident that the couple could find a safe place. Terry knew he had to keep his wife confident of that, too.
“So, to Emily?” Sabrina nervously asked, in a mostly rhetorical voice. “Sounds good.”
With their bags packed as quickly as they could, and the small weather radio tucked under Terry’s arm, the couple headed out of their apartment door and down the stairs. Cautiously looking ahead and behind them, they crossed the street checking for any signs of trouble, they walked past a road sign that read simply:
“To I-295N”
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