The Day America Died Trilogy

by A J Newman

  “Thanks, Dad. Have you been to Crater Lake yet? Send more pictures.”

  “I’m going there after lunch, and I’ll send them to you and post a bunch on Facebook.”

  “Dad, Mom wants to talk with you. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye……….. Joan, what do you want?”

  “Look, Zack, don’t be a butthole. Can’t we be civilized? I want to make sure you are alright with Callie spending the summer with you.”

  “So you and Todd can have a honeymoon?”

  “You know that we are getting married. Married people do have honeymoons.”

  “They do, but you are taking our neighbor on your honeymoon. Has he even divorced Alice yet? You screw our neighbor, divorce me and expect me to be civilized.”

  “Yes, get over it. Our marriage was stale, and you know it.”

  “So just like day old bread, you just toss it aside.”

  “Why do you care? I hear you are screwing every woman that you meet. I hope you get an STD.”

  “I probably got it from you and Todd.”

  “Oh, and before I forget, your best friend Mike and I will never speak to each other again after the stunt he pulled.”

  “What did your brother do to make me proud?”

  “He took a dump in Todd’s convertible. He is a moron.”

  “He’s your brother.”

  He cut off the call and pitched the phone on the bed. Time for a shower.

  I needed to call Mike and thank him for crapping in that bastard’s car. He also needs to check on my farm over east of Owensville, Ky. The farm belonged to my Great Uncle Arlo and Aunt Betty, and I spent many a summer roaming around the farm and surrounding area. That’s where I met Mike and Joan Norman. We were best friends, and I married Joan right after high school. My aunt and uncle didn’t have any kids, and my dad traveled a lot and took my mom with him when he could, so I got to stay with Uncle Arlo and Aunt Betty. The farm was 120 acres of farmland with a five-acre lake and about 30 acres of dense woods with a stream flowing through it year round. I loved the time I spent there.

  Uncle Arlo was a hunter, fisherman and a prepper. He’d been in the Army for 20 years and knew just about everything about survival. He spent the last 15 years of his life preparing for an apocalypse that never came. I’m damn glad he did because his work and the training that he gave me have saved my sorry ass several times over.

  The farm has an older ranch style home, a large barn and a pole barn that sits about 400 feet off Highway 143 east of Owensville. The metal pole barn has a large storm shelter built under the floor. Uncle Arlo always parked his 1954 Ford pickup over it to make sure it stayed hidden from visitors. He had stocked it with food, water, and weapons, just in case the Commies attacked, or the banking system crashed. The farm was pretty much self-sufficient. There were fruit trees, blackberry bushes and a large garden on top of a hen house, a dozen pigs and twenty head of cattle. There were solar panels on the house and pole barn that supplied electricity along with a windmill that pumped water from the lake to cool the house through a homemade cooling system he had built. The lake was about five acres and averaged 15 feet deep. He stocked it with catfish, bass, and bluegill. A large dock went 20 feet out into the water with a large covered deck on the side for entertaining.

  I spent a lot of time with Uncle Arlo learning everything from marksmanship to trapping and fishing. Those were the best years of my life.

  Aunt Betty died first, and then Uncle Arlo died the next year. He sold me the farm for a dollar the month before he died. I still have his old Ford truck, and it’s my EMP proof bug out vehicle. I have set the whole farm up as my bug out "go to" place. I go up there every chance I get, but it's only every three months, or so since I took the job below Nashville after the divorce.

  ✪✪✪

  Chapter 3 - TSHTF

  Owensville, Kentucky

  “You took a dump in Todd’s new Corvette? You are my hero!”

  “I did, and it was right in the middle of the driver’s seat. It must have been a good one because the flies started swarming as soon as I jumped out of the car.”

  “Dude, you are the man.”

  “Look, Zack, I did it for me as much as I did for you. That bastard ruined our relationship with Joan, and I hate the jerk.”

  “Where was the car parked?”

  “At his house under the carport; the dumbass left the top down, and I couldn’t resist.”

  They both laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks. This would go down in history along with the time they flushed M-80s down the toilets at Daviess County High. Everyone knew they did it, but couldn’t prove anything.

  “Does he know who did the dastardly deed?”

  “No, but with you out of town, I’m sure that he knows it was me who fouled his Chevy.”

  “Hey Mike, have you been by the farm lately?”

  “Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. Sorry, but I took a friend over and soiled your sheets so to speak. I cleaned up and washed the sheets the next day.”

  “No problem. I might be paranoid, but this shit hitting the fan with Israel and Iran has me scared. Can you check our food and water and perhaps buy some more beans and rice? I’ll pay you back.”

  “I’ll bet you have your bug out bag and 1911 with you. Your uncle has you flinching every time the TV has bad news. I’ll take care of it, Buddy.”

  “I don’t go anywhere without BOB and my trusty Colt .45. I also have my 12 gauge and Ruger MKI in the trunk. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that they're not out to get you. I’ve had a bad feeling about being away on a trip when the shit hits the fan. I’m counting on you to take care of Callie and that bitch sister of yours if TEOTWAWKI happens while I’m gone.”

  “You rattle that shit off just like you practiced saying TWEPKSTDHIV.”

  “Not funny idiot.”

  “Calling me names won’t get you any favors.”

  “Okay, pretty please, you fucking idiot.”

  “Now that’s better. Hey, are you getting laid out in Oregon?”

  “Funny that you should ask. I have a weird coyote ugly story for you.”

  ••••

  Mike Norman has been my best friend since grade school. He is 36 with brown hair and green eyes. He’s built like a short fullback at 5'8" and 225 pounds of muscle. He's never married and doesn’t have any kids. He is an auto mechanic and works at the Ford dealership in Owensville. He drives a new Mustang convertible, but also has a 1973 F100 that is powered by a 460 with a C6 tranny. I helped him build the truck and helped him make it EMP proof in case the SHTF. He has six other vehicles sitting around his house, which were future projects. He never stays with a woman more than a year, and most couldn’t put up with his obsession with cars and junk. He spends most of his time and money on his projects and a lot of time chasing tail between girlfriends. We both are getting too old for that shit.

  Mike's problem is he is so adorable, kind of like a long-eared puppy so that women want to mother and take care of him. Mike just wants to get laid and not deal with having a woman around all of the time. He has one woman he can’t get rid of, and she really cares for him even knowing that he spends a great deal of time chasing tail. I always called her Janie Sweatpants because she always has yoga pants on and her name is Polish and starts with Swet…….and I can’t pronounce it anyway. She would marry Mike, and that scares him to death.

  ••••

  The next morning found Mike driving on Highway 60 from Anderson to the farm. He drove straight through town so he could stop for breakfast at Lee’s Restaurant before cutting across to Highway 54 to go to the farm. He always stopped at Lee’s for the humongous pancakes, which were much larger than the plate. He always ordered two along with two eggs and ate every last bite.

  “Hey Betty, the usual.”

  “Mike, you are early this morning. Who was the young lady with you last week? You know a girl could get jealous.”

  “Now Betty, don’t worry. I can
’t even remember her name. She was a date that didn’t work out.”

  Mike’s order was delivered, and he ate while watching the FOX news anchor talk about tension in the Middle East because Israel had called up all of its reserves and placed its military on the highest alert. The anchor mentioned there had been an unprecedented number of flights out of Israel that started last week and continued this morning. Many of the flights were to the USA.

  Suddenly there was a break in the news, and the report stated there was an intense air battle going on between Iran and Israel. A few minutes later, the reporter broke back into the news to report that Israel had been attacked with nuclear weapons and had responded by bombing Iran’s nuclear processing facilities, command, and control and all major military bases with nuclear weapons. The president would address the nation in 15 minutes.

  Mike took his cell phone out of his pocket and called Zack. The phone rang for an eternity and went to voice mail. Mike had called three times before Zack answered.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Hey buddy, have you heard the news? Iran nuked Israel and Israel retaliated with nukes.”

  “I was asleep. Remember it’s two hours earlier here. Damn, it’s only 3:30 a.m. You’d better have a good reason to wake me up this early.”

  “Zack, get in your car and head home right now. The shit hit the fan in the Middle East. Iran and Israel have nuked each other. Turn the news on.”

  I replied, “Oh crap,” as I turned the TV on to FOX News.

  I watched for a minute and said, “Mike, I’m getting dressed, buying some food and hitting the road. I don’t want to be caught out here with this shit happening. I will start trying to contact you at 10:00 – 10:15 p.m. every night per our plan. Bye.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  Mike gobbled down his pancakes and drove to Wal-Mart. He purchased 400 pounds of rice, 400 pounds of beans, 10 cases of Spam and 20 cases of bottled water. He also purchased three boxes of every type of ammunition that the store had in stock.

  He climbed into his truck and was ready to drive to Zack’s farm when he remembered to call Joan, “Are you listening to the news?”

  “Hell no, I was asleep you idiot. Yeah, I have it on now. I hear they're fighting again in Israel. Todd says that it’s no big deal and not to worry.”

  “Joan, Todd is an idiot. Israel just nuked Iran. Go to the store and buy canned food, dried beans, rice and lots of water. Oh, buy ammo for your guns. The USA will have to respond, and we might get nuked ourselves.”

  “You sound like Zack. When will ya’ll grow up?”

  “Joan, the shit is hitting the fan, and if I’m wrong, you won’t have to buy beans and rice for two years. Please listen to me.”

  “Look, Mike, we know it was you that took a dump in the Corvette. Pulling this buy beans joke is stupid and don’t call back until you are ready to pay the bill for having Todd’s car cleaned.”

  The phone went dead.

  Mike stopped at the other Wal-Mart on Highway 54, and several sporting goods stores to purchase as much ammo as they would sell him. He bought as many .45, .223 and .308 rounds as they would sell him. He was only able to purchase a thousand rounds of .22s since they had a three box limit per customer. Then he drove on out to the farm and unloaded his truck.

  Damn, he wished Zack were here. He always knows what to do. He was worried Joan and Callie would not be safe in town if the shit hit the fan in Owensville.

  He called Callie, “Hey girl.”

  “Uncle Mike, I’m scared. This is what Dad said would happen in the Middle East. Where are you? Can you come and get me?”

  “Callie, so you’ve seen the news?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to get mom to bug out to the farm and Todd is being a little turd.”

  “I can’t come and kidnap you, but I do want you to make sure that you have your bug out bag, extra clothes, and your guns ready to leave your home if needed.”

  “I’ve been packing and gathering extra food without alerting Mom.”

  “Good girl, I’ll come and get you if the shit hits us here in the states. Call if you need me.”

  “Love you, Uncle Mike.”

  “Love you too, Callie Girl.”

  ✪✪✪

  Chapter 4 - The Apocalypse

  Midwest, USA

  I checked out of the hotel by 4 a.m., stopped at a grocery store and grabbed a buggy full of beef jerky, Spam, beef stew, bread, crackers, peanut butter, candy bars, sodas and several cases of water. Then I drove to Wal-Mart and bought several boxes of ammo for each of my guns. They would only sell three boxes of any one type, so I bought some I might be able to trade for bullets for my guns.

  The sales clerk looked at my basket and said, “Are you going to war?”

  “Yes, ma'am. I think the damn Iranians will nuke us tomorrow and I want to be able to shoot as many as possible.”

  That shut her up quickly, but I suddenly thought that she might think I was nuts and call the police. I got the hell away from there as fast as possible.

  I filled up the car and was on the road home by 5:30 a.m. I wasn’t too worried about a ticket, and I drove as fast as I safely could. There are no fast roads out of Oregon headed towards Highway 80. I did the best I could on the windy-assed mountain roads. Then I finally got on Highway 80 and hightailed it east at over 100 miles per hour. I had my radar detector on and slowed down a bit around major cities. I had to gas up twice, but otherwise, I was averaging over 90mph after I got on Highway 80.

  ••••

  “Hey, Mike is everything okay? The news sounds like we are at war with Iran and North Korea.”

  “It’s very confusing, but there have been numerous nuclear explosions in Iran, Israel, Somalia, Yemen, and Indonesia. One of our carriers is missing, and they are speculating that it was nuked. I'm at the farm and stopped along the way to get more food and ammo.”

  “Please call Joan and get them to come to the farm. Todd can even bring his sorry ass over if it will help convince Joan to bring Callie over.”

  “I talked to her earlier today, and she doesn’t believe this will amount to much because Todd says so. I was going to call when you called.”

  “I’ll stay in touch with the cell phone and will call every day at 10:00 p.m. If the cell phones get fried I’ll switch to the portable ham radio and try to get other ham operators to pass messages per our plan.”

  “Stay safe.”

  “Stay safe.”

  ••••

  I was just west of Iowa City when I saw the blue lights coming up from behind. Damn, this will slow me down. I pulled over to the side of the road and waited on the policeman.

  “Buddy, what’s your big hurry? I need your license and registration.”

  “Officer, I’m trying to get home before the Iranians nuke us.”

  “Well, that might be the best excuse that I’ve heard in a long time. Have you been listening to the news? I heard that one of our ships was attacked and sank off the coast of Israel.”

  “Sorry for speeding, but I’m honestly scared shitless that we will be at war by day’s end. I want to be with my family in Kentucky.”

  The officer wrote the ticket and handed it to me saying, “You were zipping along at 105. I reduced it to 80, so I don’t have to take you to jail. Be careful and get home safely. Are you a prepper?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tear up the ticket and hammer down. I’m getting my ass home ASAP.”

  ••••

  I drove off, stayed below the speed limit until the cop was out of sight and then pushed the car back up to over a hundred. The sky lit up in the distance, and I cursed my bad luck. It must be a thunderstorm. I hope it misses me. At the same time, I saw a sign that said Iowa City 22 miles, my engine died, the SUV’s lights went out and the car became hard to steer. WTF was going on? I struggled to get the car to the side of the road as it slowed down. The damn power steering doesn’t work with the engine dead. I opened the do
or in time to hear a thunderous sound above my head. I looked up and saw something falling from the sky. It crashed and exploded about a mile ahead of where I stood. Burning fuel lit up the night around the crash. I looked across the highway and saw a fiery explosion. A semi had hit a car stopped on the road. It was obvious that there were no survivors. I heard several more explosions in the distance towards Iowa City and assumed more planes had fallen from the sky.

  I looked at my phone to see what time it was, the screen was black. My head was exploding with thoughts and misgivings. This can’t be it, it can’t be. Holy shit, we were hit with an EMP blast. Those had to be planes falling out of the sky. Should I go look for survivors? I tried to crank the engine to no avail and resigned myself to walking home. I felt like a squirrel trying to cross a six-lane highway during rush hour, then I heard, “Pull yourself together you idiot. People die when they panic. Get your shit together.”

  I looked around to see who was yelling at me and I realized that I was yelling at myself. I calmed down and gathered all of my gear by the car. What to take and what to leave was the big question. I’ve read those post-apocalyptic books my whole life and spent ten years prepping. Why am I panicking? I can’t breathe, and my heart is pounding. I told myself to concentrate on my gear and start thinking about having to walk home. That’s when I strapped my 1911 on my hip and tucked my bull barreled Ruger MKI under my shirt in the back. This made me feel secure, and my heart stopped racing.

  I placed my bug out bag on the "must go with me" side and opened my duffel bag to see if I could ditch anything. Besides my shotgun and extra ammo, there was a complete change of clothes, hiking boots, parka, hoodie, army poncho, mini cook stove, army mess kit, and a tent. I took off my tennis shoes and replaced them with the hiking boots. It was mid-April, so I pitched the parka in the car along with the mini cook stove, a shirt, and pants. I put the hoodie on and repacked the gear that I was taking with me in the duffle bag. I put the other stuff in the Escape. Someone might need that equipment more than I did.