The Day America Died Trilogy

by A J Newman

  Then I took a good look at all of the food that I’d bought. That’s when I realized I was starving and decided to eat a can of cold stew and chase it with a soda while I pondered which food would give me the most nourishment per pound. The beef jerky, summer sausage rolls, and Spam were quickly on my short list. I packed the food and eight bottles of water in my duffle bag and filled my canteen with water. I drank several sodas and some water to make sure I was hydrated before I left.

  I retrieved my weather and emergency radio out of its metal box, cranked the handle for a minute and turned it on. I searched and finally found a channel with a broadcast.

  “The United States has been attacked and is now under martial law. Stay in your homes until the Department of Homeland Security announces it is safe to be outside. The President will address the nation at 9:00 am,” then there was nothing, but static.

  I heard an explosion, looked up and saw another fireball in the darkness about two miles from me in the direction of Iowa City. That had to be another plane trying to glide to the Iowa City airport. Damn, can a passenger jet land without its electronics? I don’t know, but the people on the plane knew for 5-10 minutes that they were falling to the ground to be maimed and burned to death. That would be a horrible death.

  I forced myself to get my thoughts back on how to save my own sorry ass and not worry about how people died. My bug out bag (bob) was actually a backpack, which weighed about 30 pounds with all of my gear. I pulled the straps over my shoulders, moved it around to where it belonged and snapped the front belt into place. I bent over to pick up my duffel bag and quickly knew that something had to give. I could lift the duffel bag easily, but would not be able to carry it very far. I had two Life Straws to filter water, so I tossed four bottles of water, clothes and a tent. The bag was still a bit heavy, but I told myself that it would get lighter as the days wore on. I kept all of the food so I wouldn’t have to hunt or scrounge for food for several days, which freed me to make tracks for Kentucky.

  I looked at the sun starting to peek over the horizon and decided that it must be about 5:30 a.m. I looked back at the rental car and started walking east on Highway 80. I made sure I kept looking behind me, got my small field glasses out of a side pocket on my BOB and periodically looked ahead for danger. I walked about half a mile and could see the wreckage of the first plane. It was in a cornfield on my left, and there were no survivors. There were only a few large pieces of the aircraft frame, and one thing that looked like an engine remained of the once mighty jet. I had walked past the wreckage before I saw the first stalled car on the other side of the highway.

  There were an older man and woman standing beside a Volvo with California plates and a peace sign on the back window.

  I got closer to them, and the man said, “Our car died, and we have to get back to California. Can you help us?”

  “My car is dead also. Your best bet is to walk east into Iowa City and find a ride. I can’t help you,” I said and kept walking east.

  “Thanks, but we’ll stay with our car until the police come to help.”

  “Good luck on that.”

  “Could you spare some water?”

  “Sorry, but I have only enough for me.”

  I quickly walked away and continued my hike to Iowa City.

  I came to the top of a hill and used my field glasses to scout out the road ahead. I saw two vehicles on my side of the road, and I quickly walked to the other side. I needed to get home as quickly as possible, and I didn’t have time to talk to everyone who was stranded on the side of the highway. The people waved at me as I got closer and I waved back and kept walking east at a good pace. I looked back and saw a man running across the road from behind me. He yelled for me to stop.

  “Hey, what’s the hurry? We want to know if you know what happened.”

  I kept walking and replied, “My car died, and I’m walking home. That’s all that I know.”

  “Can you take a look at my car and see if you can get it running?”

  “No. I couldn’t get mine running so what makes you think that I can fix yours?”

  “I don’t know, but we need help. Do you think the police will come and rescue us?”

  “Look, man. Ya’ll will starve before the police come. Walk to the nearest town. Sorry, but I’m in a hurry.”

  I continued walking as he mumbled something under his breath.

  The closer I got to Iowa City the more I saw cars on the side of the road. I knew I couldn’t help any of them and kept walking by them without getting into conversations. Most people waved and didn’t try to get my attention, which was fine with me. Others were walking east, and only a few were heading west. I only had a one-page map of the USA, so it didn’t have all of the country roads and short cuts. My plan was to go through Iowa City on Highway 80, cross the Mississippi River, go east past Davenport and take Highway 74 down south to Highway 57 to Murphy. I wasn’t going to cut across country, climb fences and get shot at by farmers. I would stick to the main roads and travel by day for a couple of days then switch to traveling at night when the fun started.

  I have been a prepper for ten years; have read all of the fiction on what happens when the grid goes down and people panic, riot, and loot. There is only about three days’ worth of food in the stores and pipeline to them at any time. That means that the looters hit the electronics stores then the food stores. On the second day, most people are trying to get food and by the third good people are getting desperate. After that, almost anyone will kill to get food for their children and family. I planned to get as close to home as possible in the next three days. I have 450 miles to cover, need to find an old car or truck produced before 1975 and fight off anyone trying to take it away from me on my way home.

  I was deep in thought when I heard a familiar sound coming from behind me. I quickly turned and saw an old Volkswagen bus heading in the same direction that I was walking. I waved at the driver to no avail. It was a beat up old Volkswagen camper and appeared to be overloaded with people. I was walking down a gentle grade and saw the bus for several minutes before it disappeared over the horizon. It would take me hours to cover what they traveled in minutes. I thought, Damn the lucky bastards. Smoking weed, drinking beer and going 40 miles per hour. I wish I were with them.

  ••••

  Mike woke up early and decided to drive back to town to have breakfast at Lee’s. He arrived at 5:30 a.m. and ordered his usual pancakes, eggs, and sausage. He called Callie and as she answered, the morning news was all about WWIII and the market collapse.

  “Callie, we’re at war. I’m coming to get you.”

  The world was falling apart, and the people in the diner could care less. They were eating and discussing their plans for the day. There were only three other people paying attention to the news. Suddenly the TV started beeping, the screen went blank then an emergency broadcast banner scrolled across the screen. The message said, “Seek shelter immediately. The USA is under attack."

  “Uncle Mike,” was all he had heard before the phone went dead.

  The TV went dark, the restaurant’s lights went off, and cars started crashing at the same time. The building shook as a truck crashed into the side, and shattered glass sprayed the people inside. Mike only received a few cuts to his forearm and cheek as he ducked below his table. Several older women were screaming, and their husbands lay on the floor.

  “Help, my husband passed out. I think he has a heart attack.”

  Mike looked over and asked, “Does he have a pacemaker?”

  “Why yes, he does.”

  “Does he have a pulse?”

  She checked and bent down and kissed his forehead.

  Several people were attending to the women, so Mike ran to the parking lot. He thought he had to go get Callie and Joan, so he threw a twenty on the table and rushed out to Zack’s car. He had driven the ’79 Cutlass Zack had inherited from his aunt to keep the battery charged and the soot blown out. He got in the car, and it wou
ldn’t start. It cranked but did not fire up.

  Mike sat back in the seat, looked around him to see cars and trucks stalled or crashed up and down Highway 60. He thought, “Damn, Zack was right about what an EMP blast would do to cars. Oh shit, everyone with a pacemaker just died.”

  Just then, a tremendous explosion rocked the car and Mike looked up to see debris falling all around him and black smoke pouring into the sky from a block north of him. His stomach flip flopped. His best friend was somewhere out west, and his sister and Callie were in Anderson about 40 miles from the farm. He knew that he had to walk the five miles to the farm, get his truck and rescue Callie and Joan.

  He started running and made about a mile before he came upon a woman sitting beside a wreck. Her face was covered in blood, and she held a dead little boy in her arms. He tried to help her, but she screamed and cried. Mike looked beside her and saw that blood was flowing from a large wound on the inside of her leg. She died before he could act. He helped several people pull their friends and loved ones out of wrecks on his way to the farm

  Mike finally saw the driveway to the farm and sprinted up the road to the house. He stayed calm, got in his old truck and tried to start it. It cranked but didn’t start. Damn, Zack had told him to keep the old ignition parts for the truck in the case of an EMP blast or sunspots. Now, where did he store them? He looked in the glovebox, under the seat and even in his BOB and still couldn’t find them. Mike tried starting Zack’s ’54 Ford, but it wouldn’t even crank. He looked in the pole barn and decided that he could walk to the auto parts store on Highway 54 and back before he found the points and condenser.

  ••••

  Callie looked at the dead phone and said, “Uncle Mike, Uncle Mike.”

  The lights and TV were off, and Callie began to get worried, she yelled, "Mom, Mom, come here. The phone and TV are dead.”

  “Callie, I’m sure that they will come back on. Go over to the Smiths and see if their power is out.”

  Callie walked outside and saw most of the neighbors were milling around and pointing their phones in different directions. Most didn’t even notice all of their phones had a blank screen.

  The neighbor boy Greg yelled, “Callie, our electricity is off, and everyone’s cell phone is dead.”

  “Tell everyone to go into their houses and fill their tubs with water so they can flush their toilets if the power doesn’t come back on soon.”

  “Why would the power be off so long? There’s no storm. Perhaps a car hit a power line.”

  “Dummy, that wouldn’t knock your phone out of service. Look, your phone has no power. I’ll bet your car won’t start. See all of the cars stalled in the middle of the street.”

  Callie ran back into the house yelling, “Mom, we’ve been nuked with an EMP like Dad warned us. We need to go to the farm. Now!”

  “Callie, I can hear you. The power goes out from time to time. No big deal. Stop the panic.”

  “Mom, I’m telling you that the power is out, the phones are dead, and all of the cars are dead in the street. Try to start your car.”

  Joan grabbed her keys and went out to her car. She hit the unlock button on the key fob and tried opening the door. It was still locked. She stood there with a blank face until Callie said, “Try the key Mom.”

  She used the key to open the door, got in and tried to start the car. Nothing. No lights, no cranking of the engine, no radio, nothing.

  “Callie, there must be a simple explanation. I just don’t know what it is.”

  There were several explosions in the distance as small planes fell to the ground, but Joan was panicking and didn’t notice them.

  "Mom, I’m riding my bike to the store. Give me some money."

  Joan was in a daze and told her to get some money out of her wallet.

  Callie put her backpack on, rode her bike down to the grocery and saw that the power was out everywhere as she expected. The store manager was turning people away when Callie parked her bike.

  “Hi, Mr. Parker. I need some supplies. I’ll pay cash.”

  “Hi, Callie. I’m closing down since the credit card reader stopped working, but come on in while no one is outside. What do you need?”

  Callie purchased all of the packages of beef jerky, rice, beans and canned meat that would fit in her basket and backpack.

  “Callie, that comes to $107, and we’ll forget the taxes.”

  “Thanks for letting me in your store. Are you afraid of looters?”

  “Yes dear. We are taking all we can carry to our house and locking the doors.”

  He walked over to the meat counter, grabbed several packages and brought them to Callie saying, “These steaks will spoil. Take them as a gift.”

  “Thanks.”

  She paid Mr. Parker and headed back home. She saw that the police were trying to stop looters at the Best Buy store and peddled faster towards home.

  ••••

  Davi felt like a traitor leaving Somalia, flying to the USA without heading to Israel and helping defend her country. Mori had to order her to get the hell out of the Middle East while she could. They both knew that the whole area would be a radioactive wasteland in a few days and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the destruction. Davi and her team flew from Somalia in helicopters to an airstrip in the desert and boarded an Israeli Airforce cargo plane. There were 36 Israelis on board, and all of them were headed to the USA to try to survive the holocaust to come. The plane was refueled in the air over the Atlantic Ocean, and both planes went on to the USA. The refueling plane checked in with the military and faked an emergency landing in Pensacola. Davi’s plane had a bona fide flight plan for Champaign-Urbana Willard University Airport. They were all booked as scientists visiting the University of Illinois.

  Davi would go on to her parent’s home while the rest of her team and the others split up and headed to a secret rendezvous location in the southeast USA. Davi and her family were invited to join them, but Davi’s father wouldn’t leave his new home. Davi’s mom was a chemistry professor at UI, and her father was a retired Israeli Air Force pilot who now farmed over a hundred acres south of Champaign. Her mom, Sharon, had set up the fake conference that allowed the others to visit the area.

  The plane landed after dawn, and after tearful goodbyes, Davi found her mother and father waiting in front of the airport. They hugged and told her how grateful they were he was safe in the USA. The news was painting a horrible picture. They stopped at a restaurant on the way to her parent’s house for breakfast.

  “How bad is it over there? We got up and ran to the airport.”

  “The Iranians and North Koreans were about to launch a sneak attack on Israel the USA and several other countries, and we have had to try and stop them without help from the USA.”

  There was a commotion at the front of the restaurant, and someone turned the TV up very loud. They heard, “Our sources are reporting that Israel and Iran have exchanged nuclear missiles and are at war. We are guessing that Israel attempting a first strike elimination of Iran’s nuclear program has failed. There have been numerous nuclear blasts in the area. President Wilton will speak to the country in five minutes.”

  “Mom, Dad, let’s go now,” Davi said as she jumped up from the table.

  “But darling let’s hear what the president has to say.”

  “Dad, we don’t have time. Let’s go now.”

  Aaron Gold paid the bill, and they got in the car and left heading south on Highway 45. Their farm was only a few more miles when the car’s engine stalled and died. The radio had a loud buzzing sound and went off at the same time. The Highway 57 overpass was just a hundred yards ahead of them, and Davi yelled for them to follow her.

  “We are under attack. Follow me quickly.”

  Just as they got out of the car, several planes crashed around the airport and cars were stalled with a few crashing into other vehicles.

  She led them up the side of the hill to a spot almost under the underpass.r />
  “We will stay here for a while until the danger passes. An EMP blast just knocked out all electronics.

  They spent several hours under the bridge and then walked to her parent’s house. Davi had a metal box in her luggage that contained several walkie-talkies, an emergency radio, and extra batteries. They listened to the radio most of that night and kept hearing the same message on a loop.

  “The USA has experienced a major failure of its power grid. It will take several weeks to get the electrical system back in operation. The large cities will be the first followed by smaller cities and then the rest of the country. Stay in your homes, conserve food and water and be patient. Thanks for your support for our great country.”

  “Dad, how are we fixed for food, weapons, and transportation?”

  “Come, my little warrior, into my garage. Your dad thought that this might happen and I have prepared for years.”

  He led her to a pole barn and opened a side door, which led them into a typical garage that would be found on a farm.

  “Davi, what’s wrong with this garage? What do you see?”

  “Dad, the inside is smaller than the outside.”

  He replied, “Yes, I taught you well,” as he walked over to the east wall and appeared to rub his hand on the wall.

  Suddenly the middle section of the far wall tilted up to reveal a hidden room. Inside the room were two vehicles, an older Jeep, and a newer Jeep.

  “These will get us anywhere we need to go and are EMP and solar flare proof. The barn also has an extra layer of metal all around the entire structure, so even the Ford F250 wasn’t harmed by the EMP attack. Follow me behind the Jeep.”

  Again, he rubbed his hand behind a picture on the wall, and she heard a click.