My Dead America

by Frank Weltner

  “Yes, Mr. Director. We overshot, sir. Might be ten times less, sir.”

  “Is there a reason?”

  “Yes, sir. Our virus covered the Earth a bit slower than we thought it would. That allowed the disease to start off later. This allowed the infection to spread further, before people were alerted to stay in and avoid the sickness.”

  “So, Dr. Henderson, we were wondering here at the FBI when the disease will have finally run its course, and we can get down to the business of completely clearing out the ghost towns and then bulldozing the buildings, roads, and debris.”

  “I have to be evasive on that, sir. I am fairly certain it has begun to bottom. However, as a scientist and a rather loyal FBI agent, because I had to be loyal to agree to this project, Mr. Director, I need to tell you cautiously that we cannot yet be certain of the exact time table, although we are nearly agreed, that, in our official opinion, this dying thing is coming to an ending in short order.”

  “I see,” the Director said. “You know, the Earth is not going to be the same after this, Dr. Henderson.”

  What an understatement. Was this an attempt by the Director of advancing grisly humor?

  “That was the point, wasn't it, Mr. Director? We had agreed that it was in the national interest to significantly reduce the population. And, remember, sir, if we hadn't done this now, as we have discussed thousands of times, then the same dying off would have happened anyway due to the over-population of the planet and the rapidly deteriorating food supplies.”

  “I know. Historically, we were moments from collapse. Only a few years, and it would have been drastic and hopeless. It's just that it seems so draconian.”

  “Of course, and pardon my being so damned repetitive, but, Mr. Director, this extremely fast die off was far better than the suffering and wars that would have had to have been endured and fought for food stuffs and the remaining fuel opportunities for support of the world's people.”

  “You still think that way?”

  “Mr. Director, under the world's 1,500 democracies with all of their little idiosyncrasies, we'd never have gotten much cooperation. They'd still be discussing it, and the global changes were reaching a point where this huge excess in people could never be sustained. We were staring at vast plagues, water shortages, and food disruption. It would all have come out in the wash just about the same once the skies cleared. We did very little. We only shortened the suffering for them. They were essentially doomed, Mr. Director.”

  “It seems so tragic.”

  “We've been over this. What's the use of rehashing it?.”

  “I know.”

  “This is not the first time, the Earth had to be cleansed of life forms, Mr. Director. It's happened many times in the past, even in the near past. Asteroids, ice ages, total freezing of the planet into a huge snowball for five hundred million years. Today's disaster is really not that far off from the natural die offs, sir. In fact, those were far worse.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel any guilt at all?”

  “I suppose not, Mr. Director. The choices we had were not good. I think we did the best thing possible.”

  “The best possible thing, ridding the Earth of seven billion humans.”

  “Yes, Mr. Director. The Earth was dying, sir. It was either them or the Earth, and, with the Earth no longer able to sustain them, they were already dead. They were doomed, sir. If we did nothing, they would have died a terrible death, one that was less merciful and a lot slower, Mr. Director.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Henderson. I think that will be all for now. And, Doctor, thank you for all of your work, sir.”

  “Mr. Director.”

  The lines clicked, and the conversation was over.

  Between these few survivors and the development of world war plans calling for the utter destruction for the American people by nuclear blasting of their cities with all of them in those cities, the world was better off. The hundreds of open rebellions by lone wolves whom the patriot act's draconian laws had energized were mostly dead. The plague had worked its way into mankind's last ditch attempts to take down what had rapidly become the totally horrid and war-like government hegemony in Washington DC.

  The FBI had performed the lone and difficult task of saving the nation. The FBI controlled the only friends loyal to the old ways who were left in Homeland Security to make things right. Perhaps they had used wrong ways, but their choices were limited. Henderson knew that the FBI, from what offices they had left, had left a desperate effort to maintain the many cruelties and deceits of the patriot act due to the die off. They were the ones propagating the rebellion of lone wolf citizens which had destroyed their own FBI building. It was a mistake. The FBI's agents had laughed at the citizens when they discussed how even the bombing of the Hoover building had been socially engineered by cleverer patriots than themselves. It was tragic. The FBI's agents were the only trained participants who were always at the ready to do their duty to squash public dissent by threatening people with torture, incarceration at Gitmo, and some good old-fashioned waterboarding on Friday nights. Its Agents sat in their stuffy chairs by their computers, then went out into the streets to sniff out enemies of the state who might want to threaten the government's power, cajoling people, then offering to help them assemble fake bombing materials so they could arrest them and pretend they had stopped real terrorists when all they did was propagate the illusion of such. They had, all of them, become the minions of deceit, the controllers of the Patriot Act's destruction of the guaranteed freedoms of the U.S. Constitution which had for years been considered to be a holy writ for the salvation of what was left of the Washington DC hegemony and the very Corporatist enemies who had nearly wrecked the entire planet.

  Henderson and everyone else in America already knew the federal shit had hit the fan. Everyone knew how the Constitution had only been a fantasy at best. People were drafted into armies in mass world wars that sent them to their deaths without their assent to such, and it was very difficult to explain this as something that ought to be enforced against a truly free people. Yet it had been done several times. In fact, it hadn't stopped when the draft stopped. It had continued with the outright offensiveness of the FBI's and Homeland Security's sordid little airport freaks. These giants of public intrusion and fondling of the private parts of 330 million innocent people in the name of the faked War on Terror which was itself a massive sham, because the government itself had brought down the 911 buildings. These centralized minions of deceit were nothing but pure anathema and crude over-bearing power to the American public who had to suffer at their perverted hands. The falseness of the early 911 findings were evident in the communications around the world including recent pronouncements from the reconstituted FBI and Homeland Security Agency who were now admitting they planned 911 to destroy the freedoms inside the United States which were threatening the bankers who controlled the entire nation. What made matters worse was the program being waged by the few non-squeamish survivors of the plague and the wolfish rebels and their little bombs that seethed within the ruins with fascist theories about government malfeasance. These were the true patriots. And, they were more than ready and willing to kill what was left dawdling about inside the swell of what was now the fully developed human pathos that the government and the lone wolf movements represented.

  If they were bad before, they were even worse now. In fact, they were livid and wanted revenge.

  The civil war had only just begun.

  It didn't have to happen. If the government had only followed its Constitution instead of supporting the globalism called for by the banking criminals, no one would have caused trouble.

  But it did not happen that way. The banks in the year 2000 were the moving impetus for the demolition of human rights in America. In this, they were up to their old tricks. The American banksters were the criminals who funded the Russian Red Revolution and the establishment of Lenin
's USSR. Trotsky was sent from New York City to Petrograd with twenty million dollars in a briefcase courtesy of the racist banker, Jacob Schiff. Schiff was a Jewish anti-Christ. He wanted to murder the Christian Tzar and 65 million Christians in Russia and its satellites.

  Schiff's racist atrocity was perpetrated by himself and the other Jewish banking heads of both New York and Russia. Together, they had achieved this goal between 1917 and 1940 when their ex-patriot relatives secretly ran the Soviet Union from new homes in Moscow. They also enjoyed their tiny isolated dachas in outlying areas. They totally locked out the press from publishing about it which they could do because they owned the American presses and publishing houses. The practice these banks got in running a globalist regime in the USSR was invaluable to him in their destruction of the freedoms guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution. It also aided them in their decision to murder most of the world's citizens in the plagues they planned and implemented for doing away with them once and for all.

  For them, the history of the crimes they carried out was a beautiful thing. They got the USSR in the 20th century as a profitable playground complete with slaves, martyrs, and colonies. Now, in the 21st century they got the American USSR as well as the European USSR across the big pond and just west of their old Russian stomping grounds. And it was all theirs courtesy of the banks they owned all over the world.

  The only good news was that there were fewer left on the planet to feed these banking criminals. In fact, it was getting downright lonely in a lot of places these days. However, many of their best friends had been murdered by so-called terrorists who knew what they had been doing and wanted to stop them once and for all. The winner of this battle was as of yet still to be determined.

  Page 9

  Chapter Eleven

  Insurrection Forever...

  New York City was gone. So was Baltimore, Philadelphia, Washington, and most of the world. London was nothing but an ash of its old self, except that the Queen and her retinue miraculously survived due to the vaccine. The bankers and capitalists who encircled the world using their currency connections and unfair business practices—not to mention their globalist new world order plans to reduce the entire world's population by billions of persons—had seen them through the great dying process. Now, their surviving children would continue to selfishly inherit almost all of the property, wealth, media, and governments of the planet as they always had, and the little people who were left were just stupid enough to allow them to continue committing this crime against them. This was not only pre-planned but was to be expected. Even now, a world of equals was not going to happen. The same families had run Greece, Egypt, Rome, The Catholic Church, and Modern Europe for centuries. Even their demolition of the aristocracies of all of these nations had been accomplished with few blow backs that might threaten their own mighty banking empires that stretched from England to America to China. They had few persons who were even capable of realizing the depth to which they were willing to stoop to re-create the world according to the Rothschilds.

  The minions of greed were safe, and that was all that counted. The slaves had been essentially beheaded with the plague which surgically removed many of them using simple biology as its guillotine. The plague was even more beneficent for the banks than they had hoped. With only one or two percent of the global population left, the poor were only one-half of the world's population which gave the one-percenters who owned everything on the planet a fighting chance. In other words, to put it simply, instead of one against one hundred persons, it was now only one against one. Even in a boxing match, the bankers might win without even having to hire a boxer to stand in for them, like they normally would in the old days. In any event, the criminals of greed who owned everything also owned the guns and held the cards. Of course, it would never come to that. The bankers were decadent, soft, and unused to physical exertion. Why should they risk physical harm in a boxing ring when they could buy entire boxing gyms? After all, boxers are not paid a salary to box. Instead, the greedy 1% had always devised a useful boxing plan. They controlled it by owning all of the gyms, associations, and production facilities to insure that all boxing events would funnel money to their banks, either through their Boards of Directors or through relatives of those Boards who did their part, as usual, to harness the power to the boxing business and insure that all of its assets would accrue regularly into the fattest wallets of the rich who had conceived of and designed a world in which they owned everything. It was a workable and useful plan, and, since they developed, installed, and owned it, they saw no need to ever share it with others. Of course, the Mike Tyson's got a few million bucks, because they were willing to pay the price and allow others to smash their brains into the scrambled egg mind of Mohammed Ali whom they continued to drag across their TV Studios as an American Hero because he had given his all to the world at large including its richest bankers who owned him lock, stock, and barrel. What had really happened, of course, was this: Money had been siphoned to the rich one-percent, and the media presented a picture of goodness that, despite the horror of boxing's often bloodied victims, there was nothing to be done about it other than minor regulation by an appointed public relations Don who was the tool of the banks, because the greedy one-percent wanted it that way, and they always got what they wanted, which is why they always remained the top one-percent and everyone else remained poor for their entire lives. The only thing left was to regally entertain the poor with the modern Colosseum of TV which offered them games, American Idol, and dreams of grandeur, The Price is Right, and other shows offering others the chance of escape from the poverty of their underpaid enslavement if they were just lucky enough to win a TV contest show. Boxing was just more of the same, except that girls couldn't dream of becoming Mike Tyson. However, they could always be tennis stars if they were good it at. However, if someone like Mr. Mike raped them, or better yet, a girl just nailed him for rape unfairly, she might gain millions of dollars in benefits in some sort of a wrongful sex lawsuit covered by Court TV so that the banks who owned the networks, again, could reap millions in advertising benefits from all that media hoopla.

  Bob Winkler had been hiding out in a hollowed and very hidden West Virginia cave ever since he pulled off the bombing of the Hoover FBI Building which provided perfect cover for the insurrection's revolution against the American Terrorist Government in Washington, D.C. That vile government's endless wars, threats against world peace, and planned decimation of world population centers using various plagues for their bankster cronies had successfully destroyed ninety-nine-percent of the human capital on planet Earth, and Bob knew this. That was why he and the rest of the small cadre of Americans who still believed in human decency had holed up in the survival cave with him. These few warriors were the ones who had pledged their lives to the cause of humanity instead of the banks. They had burned the entire surface of Chesapeake Bay to get the world's attention. They did this to stand once and for all time against the one-percent death squads and for those sovereigns whose lives and deaths had represented the ninety-nine-percent of the poverty-stricken population of this distressed planet who were the decent members of the impoverished classes against whom the greed-filled bankers planned, schemed, and criminally carried out their genocide, abandonment, plague, and confiscation of every little piece of land and homes in this entire world that they had not yet sank their filthy and inhumane fingernails into.

  “The plague has almost run its course,” Bob Winkler told them. He pulled down a map of the East Coast and used his laser point to focus his audience on his orders to them. “Tomorrow we shall send out three search groups. The first group will be called “Eagle.” The group will make its way to Washington, DC and report back to us what they have found. The second group will be called “Gotham.” That group will make its way to New York City and report what is left of it. The third group is called “Franklin,” and it will sail up the Chesapeake Bay toward Philadelphia. These groups will locate and count the survivors, corp
ses, and assess infrastructure. Next, all groups will search and find the hidden and well-armed hives where the rich are holed up. We think most of them are underground.”

  Radio Specialist Donna Clayton would be going to Washington to reconnoiter what was left of that massive repository of shattered marble and fascist statuary, all that was left of the city after the fires that the few survivors including the rebels had left in the Capitol of the failed capitalist experiment. War mongering year after year had insured that the bankers who ran that government for their own personal aggrandizement and not that of the people would be stuffed full of money. However, as it turned out, these bankers had misused those funds by wasting them in expensive and unwise speculation in housing, oil, natural gas, and other commodities instead of granting loans to more productive areas such as home mortgages, construction of buildings, new start-up businesses which might eventually employ millions of out-of-work citizens, and support other worthwhile endeavors that usually ensure true prosperity in a large nation. Instead, the failed speculations of thousands of banks only gave false millions to speculators who never performed a moment's work on any given day. Production dropped to nothing, and, what was left, the bankers shipped off to Red China which they liked to refer to without the red monicker, because that made them seem cheap, unseemly, and anti-patriotic. Their expensive lobbyists who were public relations giants with press and White House connections took care of caressing the media. Through these electronic outlets of frothing propaganda the unsuspecting and rapidly unemployed Americans began to move out of the cities and suburbs. They re-entered the vast hinterlands where deer, bear, and racoons still survived between rows of farms, houses, and barns. Many of them lived in trailers and tents. They survived mostly on food stamps. The bankers, never having been out there, weren't really sure of anything that happened there, and, to be honest, they really never cared.