and then undressed, climbed into bed, and was fast asleep within moments. Now Lee guessed the time was around 11:30 to 12:00 a.m. This weird awakening displayed how humans become so familiar to noise that a sudden lack of noise can be alarming. Lee’s internal alarm had sounded loudly and clearly.
Lee climbed out of bed, found his way in the pitch dark to the window, and pulled open the curtains.
“Shit,” Lee said aloud to the empty room.
Las Vegas was dark. There were no lights as far or wide as he could see. The only lights Lee could see below were car headlamps and taillamps. There was no building, marquee, lamppost, or any common Vegas overlamped signage.
“This is not good,” Lee added as he stared from the window.
Suddenly and horrendously, a massive fireball erupted on the other side of town. Lee knew the explosion was on the other side of Interstate-15. As the fireball erupted, it grew into a monstrous red and yellow glowing inferno. Then the shock wave hit. The windows rattled and the building shook. Lee stepped back from the window fearing perhaps the glass would shatter. Nevertheless, the large windows held. He moved back in closer again and watched as the fireball climbed high into the black night and dots of fire and smoke arose around the main explosion. The glowing fires spread, all of them getting larger and burning more furiously by the second. The glow from the flames lit up the surrounding city, providing light to the pitch-black enveloping the rest of the city.
So what the hell is happening? Lee thought as he went to the table lamp and tried it. “Nothing,” He said while trying another lamp. “No go. Okay, power is definitely out.”
In the dark, Lee felt his way back to the nightstand. Lee always had a small flashlight with him when he traveled, and he kept it near the bed. He fumbled for the flashlight and his cell phone and found both on the nightstand. Lee pressed the button on the phone, and it lit up like normal. Time was 10:47. The signal meter was flat with no bars showing, and the “No signal” symbol was on. Calling 9-1-1 was pointless, Lee figured. Thousands of Las Vegas Residents and guests alike had surely seen and felt the explosion. So instead, he selected his wife’s number from the favorites list and hit call. Nothing happened. There was no noise, no recording, no ringing, just nothing.
This is bad, really, really bad, Lee thought.
He started to consider the cause, which he was starting to, but did not want to accept. Lee had studied and planned, but doubted it would happen. Maybe the power outage and the explosion are related. Lee was overcome by the feeling this event was bigger. Much, much bigger. The room was already getting stuffy from the lack of air-conditioning. Lee stood and considered the impossible.
Lee Garrett had come to downtown Vegas for his work. He was there to oversee a new fireworks and special effects project for one of the large Freemont street casinos. He had driven up the day before from his home in Agua Dulce California, which was a small rural community outside Los Angeles, north out of the San Fernando Valley. It was roughly two hundred miles by car. The trip would normally take Lee around four hours. Staring out at the darkened Las Vegas city, however, gave Lee a chilling feeling that Agua Dulce was not going to be four hours away for the return trip home. The large fire was still burning and appeared to be spreading. He could tell that flames and smoke were overrunning many tall buildings.
Lee noticed something else. Many of the cars below had headlights, taillights, or even some hazard flashers, but he saw no cars moving. He could see flashing lights frozen in space on some type of emergency vehicle. Surely hundreds of emergency vehicles and First Responders should be screaming full speed to the giant inferno on the northwest side of town. He saw none in any direction. Was Lee’s nagging hunch correct?
Lee’s full name was Lee Andrew Garrett. Most people knew him as Lee, but a few friends and an Uncle who shared the name knew him as Andy. At the age of fifty-two, Lee’s occupation was that of a special effects consultant and engineer. Married with two sons and a daughter. Lee was hoping his family all had made it to his house. He had insisted sometimes against pushback the family plan for emergencies, so he hoped and prayed they were all safe.
Although not a military veteran himself, Lee had involvement in the defense department for years. He consulted on their MOUT training facilities around the country. MOUT stood for Military Operations in Urban Terrain. MOUTs were fake towns or villages that units would attack or defend as part of intensive training. The Army had tapped into the special effects industry to bring more reality to the training bases. Lee’s company added realistic but safe explosions using natural gas or propane and pyrotechnic devices. Also added were other types of booby traps, bullet hits, and special effects to keep soldiers on their toes and make training more realistic and even scary at times. When any explosion goes off near you, safe or not, it will definitely get your attention or as special effects people say, “pucker up your asshole.”
Besides Lee’s love for his family and friends and his rewarding professional life, he had a hobby which now may be of paramount importance to his survival. Prepping. Yes, Lee was one of those nutcase doomsday preppers. He took preparation seriously in his work, and he took it to a new level in his prepping. He spent hours planning for different types of natural or man-made disasters. With his wife and family members, Lee spent hours on hours, plus a fair amount of money on plans, and equipment all in case of the worst scenarios. They had stockpiles of prepper supplies at their home. Both of them read everything they could find on the subject, bought tons of stuff, and stockpiled crap to the point of driving the rest of the family nuts. Lee and Madison both religiously carried oversized backpacks in their cars just in case. A popular name for a prepper backpack was “Bug Out Bag.” Other names used were G-O-O-D, or “Get Out of Dodge Bag,” or W-T-S-H-T-F, as “When the Shit Hits the Fan Bag.” Lee preferred BOB. It was simple. Lee kept two bags ready always. He carried a three-day bag daily in his SUV, going to and from work and around the Los Angeles area. Madison and the kids carried identical bags in their cars. For longer trips, Lee would put a larger seven-day bag into his Ford Explorer. He had loaded the larger bag for the trip up to Las Vegas. Lee was not sure of the situation yet, but he thought, Thankfully I bought the big bag.
Lee picked up the flashlight and hit the power button. It illuminated and lit up the room. “Well, at least it is working.” Years of traveling with a flashlight in his luggage just paid off. Lee used the flashlight to find his duffel, inside which was a small lockbox containing a Ruger LC-9 small automatic pistol. Being a gun owner in California made it tough. The laws on weapon carry were strict. To legally carry a pistol inside a car within California, you had to unload it and lock it inside a box separate from any ammunition. The small lockbox fulfilled the requirement, and Lee had simply put the box with the pistol in his duffel when he unloaded it and other items from the car while checking into the hotel. Knowing the gun held an empty magazine, Lee had taken two fully loaded magazines out of his BOB and tossed them in the bottom of the duffel bag. Lee now fished a loaded mag from his duffel bag, ejected the empty from the small pistol, inserted a full, pulled back the slide, and sent a round into the chamber. The gun was ready to fire. Not having extra shells, he placed the empty mag back into his duffel. Lee was not sure why he felt compelled to load the weapon, but he had a bad feeling.
Lee quickly put on some shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. He was now hearing noise from the hallway. He went to the door and listened. Someone was pounding on a door, and a male voice was raising all kinds of hell.
“Fucking electric door locks are out. Goddamn it. Nineteen fucking floors of stairs and the door is locked. This sucks!” the loud man shouted.
Another male voice chimed in, “Let’s kick the fucking door in.”
Heavy pounding and kicking followed. Other doors in the hall started to open. Lee did the same, slowly opening his door, but keeping the Ruger at his side as he leaned out to look up and down the hall. Emergency lights
