“Oi! Watch the flailing!” was the first thing I heard scrambling upwards from the dream.

I frantically looked around for the system message and sighed in relief when I didn’t see it. I was sitting up in the top bunk of the hostel I spent the night in before starting my pilgrimage. The room was dimly lit with the pre-dawn light streaming through the windows spanning one wall of the large bunk filled room. The room was nearly empty of people with only a few other stragglers finishing packing. Through the open doorway, I could hear the other pilgrims mingling in the common room and heading out towards the cathedral to begin their pilgrimage.

Gîte, I thought, reminding myself of the correct term for a hostel that the locals corrected me about the night before.

“Just a dream,” I said. Of course, the stress of flying to Europe to start a multi-month hike through France would trigger a panic attack filled dream.

“What’s that, mate?” An English sounding voice said off to my left.

Looking over, I saw a scruffy-looking guy standing beside another bunk bed packing his pack. I vaguely remembered seeing him yesterday in the queue at the cathedral when I went to get my pilgrim passport for the Camino.

“Nothing. So you’re hiking the Camino as well?” I said as my opening salvo.

“Yep, I’m hoping to finish while I’m on holiday. Well, I’m off. Power’s out, so I’m going to see about breakfast in town,” he said, swinging his pack over one shoulder and leaving with a hand raised over his departing shoulder.

Quickly dressing and packing my things, I headed out to the common room. Again, the room was dimly lit by the early dawn light streaming through the front windows and open entranceway. Spread out through the room like bobbing mines that might pull me into an unwelcome social interaction were people I vaguely remembered meeting the night before, mingling and eating. The effort to Google Translate my way through social niceties this early turned me off breakfast. Plastering a polite smile on my face, leveraging a few tactical nods, and delivering a final wave, I made my escape outside into the dawn.

Looking downhill, the narrow cobblestone alleyway gave way to Le Puy-en-Velay’s vista glowing in the morning sun reflecting off the burnt orange clay tile roofs and white plaster buildings. I felt something unclenched in my middle and decided that this impromptu summer trip after graduating college was the right decision, no matter what my wallet thought. Orphaned at eighteen, the lawyers left me with scraps after they finished picking over the bones of my parents’ life. Even though I just wanted to curl up and join them, I pushed through from being essentially homeless, to putting myself through college by living the dorm life and couch surfing friends places between semesters. Two years was all I could afford until the grant money and loans stopped coming, but I completed my Associates in Computer Science, Game Development. Degree in hand, this was my time to pause and heal before starting a career. Two years scrambling to survive without a second to say goodbye. Now, finally, I took the time to grieve.

Turning away from the view, I walked up, winding my way through the maze of cobblestone alleys, until the cathedral emerged before me. I could see a few other pack laden pilgrims climbing the last few stairs to the medieval-looking entrance.

Looking up towards the rocky outcrop rising steeply to one side, I spotted the giant bronze statue of the Virgin Mary gazing over the town. Yes, I know it’s strange for a scarred by life atheist to take part in a Catholic pilgrimage. Even though I wasn’t religious, I was definitely spiritual. Even mainstream scientific theories were leading to woo-woo levels of strangeness. I guess I sought truth through my journey, not in some story in a dusty old book. You had to put in the effort. To walk the walk before you discover the truth. Earned, not given. I guess we are all pilgrims in the end. Anyway, I could find strength through communion with other seekers regardless of their beliefs or the location. Cathedral or campsite are both valid spiritual way-stations on my journey.

I’d like to say the mass was life affirming, but not speaking the language, I essentially followed along with the sitting, standing, and kneeling that I guess the Catholics find invigorating exercise while I let my eyes and mind wander over the magnificent architecture. Twin stone columns marched up either side of the pew filled hall until it met with another hall crossing from either side. Yes, we all know cathedral interiors are cross shaped. Yes, we’ve all seen pictures of cathedrals, but it was awe-inspiring so let me attempt to describe my first experience. At the center of the cross, on a small raised stone section, the priest stood before the pulpit with a large hanging cross centered behind him. Between the pews the main aisle had a steel cross-hatched grate set into the floor and I spent some time attempting to reason out its use.

Eventually, I found the answer as the mass ended. The grate was first lit from below by daylight before splitting in the center, opening upwards and forming a railing around the exposed stairwell leading below. Joining the procession of pilgrims, I made my way down the stairwell and out into the morning sun. The broad cobblestone street flowed downhill from the cathedral past tightly lined brick and white plaster buildings before being lost among the orange tile rooftops. Just before the street meandered out of view, I spotted that scruffy looking hiker from the hostel stepping out of a cafe, munching on a pastry. Food. Food, my grumbling stomach informed me, was next on my agenda.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk before I found a small grocery where I could buy some dry goods as my hiking provisions. Realizing the power was out here as well, I made my way through the sunlit store, collecting promising food packages with French babble, leaving me clueless to its contents. I attempted to use my phone to translate my way through check out; only to find my phone was dead as well. I felt a tension between my shoulder blades and a desired to get out of town as the dangerous possibilities flashed through my mind. I quickly pantomimed my way through purchasing my supplies while the employee dealt with the inoperative cash register by manually tallying my bill and making change from my meager pile of cash. Loot in hand, plus a splurged bread and cheese melt baguette, I made my next escape.

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Researching the trip, I learned that camping, or wild camping as it’s called in Europe, is an accepted, though not always strictly legal, practice along their network of long distance trails known as E-Paths. I knew I couldn’t afford to stay at hostels every night, so I planned to wild camp in farm fields and the odd woods as much as possible. Leveraging Reddit’s ultralight community, I had put together a small camping kit that I could get past international customs checks, including a stealth bivvy tent, and a cooking and water filtering kit.Baguette in hand, I continued downhill through the narrow cobblestone streets with the sun on my back. It was strangely quiet. No sound of traffic echoed through the narrow, meandering streets as I made my way to the edge of town. Everywhere I looked, the power was off, the buildings dark and quiet, groups of people gathered in clumps quietly talking and looking around in confusion. A hush overlay the town, like a collectively held breath waiting for the other foot to fall.

I’d like to say the walk was exciting, but my mind was on turbo thinking of possible causes from the dangerous but sane like solar flares, through unlikely such as nuclear war, to the insane like my dream. I examined the dream, looking for all the logical gaps that separated dreams from waking, hoping I was merely insane.“Display on,” I said, attempting to activate the system. Nothing.

“Status, character sheet, console, activate,” I tried in rapid succession before snorting. I may be a child of anime filled youth, but the lack of Isekai cat girls seemed to be a strong sign of it being just a dream.

Turning the final corner where the town gave way to a forested path leading steeply up the next hill, I spotted the guy from the hostel talking with a couple of other pilgrims. Deciding at another crack at making friends, I made my way over to the unfolding tableau.

“Battery’s dead. Right, your mobile’s both not working?” He was talking to a French couple I interacted with briefly at the hostel the night before. Spotting me approaching, he gave me a nod and raised an open-palm, before turning back. There was a conversation that I correctly determined happened in French before he pulled out a cell phone from his pocket.

“Mine’s dead as well,” he said as I joined them. “Your mobile working?”

“Dead,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and showing them the blank screen. Remembering my dream, I muttered, “System activate.”

“You okay there, mate?” he said. I realized I must have said that out loud. I looked up at my disaster companions. They were giving me stranger danger looks. “Sorry, bad joke.”

The couple looked over at the Brit and asked, “Qu’a t’il dit?” Great, they must think I’m a ditz.

The Brit responded to the couple in French babble, “Le Yankee a dit que le sien ne fonctionnait pas non plus. Seul un Américain irait dans un autre pays sans en parler la langue.”

I needed something to call him other than The Brit. “Hi, I’m Jacob,” I said, sticking out my hand to shake. “We met at the hostel.”

“Oh, I remember,” he said, giving my hand a deliberate look before ignoring. “I’m Ian. That’s Jaques and Clair, but they don’t speak English.” He gave me a quizzical look before continuing, “I take it you don’t speak French?”

“What gave me away?” I guess I must have broken some social rule again. Why can’t I just once get credit for exceeding my social quota for the day?

“The American accent?”

Great, a comedian. Time to move on. “Well, I guess Zombie rules are in effect. Time to get out of town before the natives get snack-ish.” Nodding at everyone, I turned to leave.“Wait up!” Turning back, I saw Ian speaking to Jaques and Clair and pointing at me. They walked over. “I get your meaning. I think we should all travel together in case this is more widespread than the town.”

“Phones,” I said, answering the question. It would have been nice to see a car to confirm, but a simple power outage wouldn’t affect phones, cars, planes, or other disconnected systems. This was something else, potentially something polite-society ending. If so, I was a stranger in a strange land in a time of troubles. If the power didn’t return soon, people would turn on each other and outsiders would be the first to go.

“Phones?” Jaques queried, in broken English.

I sighed and looked at Ian. “Can you translate?” Turning back to Jaques, I started. “The phones tell us this isn’t a simple power outage. I bet the reason we don’t see any cars or planes is they are dead as well. Only thing I can think of that can cause this is an EMP. When the food runs out, it’s going to get bad before it gets better. Soon, so I’m getting out into the country until it all blows over.”

Ian held my gaze and I swear I saw the wheels turning before he sighed and turned to Jaques and Clair. “Il dit que c’est probablement un EMP et que les choses vont se détériorer. La nourriture s’épuisera avant que l’électricité ne soit réparée et les villes ne seront plus sûres. Il va se cacher dans le pays jusqu’à ce que ça passe. Je pense qu’il a raison et que nous devrions le rejoindre.” Turning back to me, he said, “Right, let’s go.”

We made our ascent out of town and soon were among the rolling, partially forested hills. In a normal world, we’d probably bond as we hiked and become fast friends. Let’s just say that didn’t happen. The anxious silence, broken only by a brief question, eventually smoothed out into silence, broken by occasional quiet conversation between my three companions. By early afternoon, we were well out into the country between towns. Even here we saw signs that the power was out; empty cars along the side of the road, dark houses, and quiet planeless skies.

As we walked, my mind was racing and only the constant effort of putting feet one in front of the other held the anxiety at bay. First, the dream felt so real. Just when I could set it aside, things got strange, making me question if it was a dream, real, or a sign that I finally cracked. Was it just coincidence that freaky, glowing guy mentions the end of the world at the same time as France gets hit with an EMP or something even weirder? I felt crazy trying to talk to the silver goo in my head, but why not? Withholding judgment on my sanity, the power was out; even other people agreed, the power was out. Now, the lack of the whole bombs going off probably means solar flair and not terrorist or war, but I was unready and unwilling to deal with this just when I crawled out of my last crisis.

Regardless, this wasn’t a good thing for an outsider without a bolt hole to wait it out in. Three meals and folks stop pretending to be polite. Three days and we’ll be in the Lord of the Flies levels of shit. It was time to head for the hills and let everyone else murder each other over pommes frites or the like.

“You know, you’re right about the planes. Not seen one all day. You?” Ian asked, breaking the quiet.

“No, but I’m not surprised. Why I’m thinking EMP,” I said, breaching the topic.

“Right, EMP makes sense, but what does that have to do with Zombie rules? Are we talking Zombieland rules or World War Z?”

“No, think more The Road,” I said, checking out the next farmhouse for remoteness and defensibility.

“Oh, good movie!” Ian said before grimacing. “You’re a right people-person if the first thing you go to is everyone for themselves.”

“Look, I’m just saying being in a city after dark might not be the best idea,” I began with a sigh. “Anyway, with the power out, my credit card stopped working. That means I’m basically broke and homeless.” Pointing at the nearest farmhouse, I continued. “I’d rather take my chances asking a farmer if they’ll let us wait it out at their place.”

“Not the worst idea,” Ian agreed.

After some further discussion, we headed towards a remote farmhouse nestled against forested hills as our destination.