INVASION USA (Book 1) - The End of Modern Civilization

by T I WADE

  “My favorite scenario shows that 200 million people in Russia and another 150 million Asians in areas with below freezing temperatures will die from exposure within the next 24 hours. In Africa, we expect our smallest losses at only 25 million dead, and in Australia and New Zealand, another 50 million deaths due to city fires. My goal was to rid this world of 500 million people within forty-eight hours of me pushing the first button, and the current winter conditions in the northern hemisphere are nearly perfect for achieving this. That is Phase I, Phase II’s timeline is one week, or 168 hours from the beginning. In this scenario, we have nothing to do but see if we can get correct estimations of fatalities back from our termination squads using their satellite radios. In this phase, I expect another one billion people worldwide to begin killing each other over protection, hunger, warmth, and water. With the millions of weapons owned by the people in the United States alone, they should do a fantastic job of killing themselves for us.”

  “The hated Americans should decrease their own population by another 100 million in this timeframe. All the sick in hospitals and the millions of aged people around the world will die in this phase—people who are of no use to us as a workforce. The United States will fare better than Canada in this second phase, due to the southern areas being warmer. In this phase, I expect that 35% of the population of Canada will freeze to death. The U.S. and European populations should be down to 60% by the conclusion of this phase and we will begin to activate all our termination squads to kill every remaining male over ten years old. They will take over every military installation, which should be virtually powerless to resist, and turn them into concentration camps for the women and children under ten. Our squads are equipped with ground-to-ground missiles and these, with mortars, should give them the upper hand against any remaining soldiers stationed at their bases. We will do the same with the Pentagon and the White House.”

  “I have ordered that the American President must be kept alive, we could use him to stop any upsurges of power against our squads if they are having trouble. I believe that the American people will listen to him on military radios, of which I’m sure there are many old ones from the Vietnam or Korean War eras in museums and in and around bases across the country. We expect some sort of fight from the remaining American people, but not from any large groups once we have killed the remaining soldiers. The American soldiers will not be spared. Any questions about and up to the end of Phase II, gentlemen?”

  One man put his hand up.

  “Comrade Chairman, what about our squads needing ground-to-air missiles against possible aircraft attacks?” the man asked. There was silence, and the Chairman shook his head.

  “Comrade Gung, are you blind and stupid?” the Chairman asked sarcastically. “How many aircraft do you see flying to protect the world? How many aircraft are in the sky at this moment?”

  “Zero, Comrade Chairman,” replied the man, now fearful for the first time.

  “And how many aircraft will we see on our screens tomorrow, Comrade Gung?” asked the Chairman, looking at the man with pity.

  “Zero, Comrade Chairman,” replied the scared man, his face now white.

  “I’m sure there are several aircraft left around the world, but any aircraft still flyable are old, small propeller-driven aircraft, have no guns, and cannot hurt our squads. We will not need any ground-to-air missiles. If we see a transponder, our squads will search it out and destroy the pilot and his plane. We have absolutely no worries of any attack from the air ever again. And Comrade, I find your question belittling and mocking considering my 30 years of planning.” The ashamed man shrunk down into his chair and tried to make himself small and inconspicuous.

  * * *

  Dawn at the Strong farm was relatively normal. Oliver was out earlier than usual, sniffing the air. There was something wrong in the human world he knew so little about and he was worried—worried enough to omit a bark at the new female human and the little humans coming out of the side door of the hangar. His bark was more of a warning than anything else, but he thought it necessary. The kids ran up to him and stroked his head, back, and tail and he forgot about the problems that weren’t really his concern.

  Maggie was up early, as well. It was just before 7:00 am. She was in a hurry to get to the radio in the house, feeling pretty lousy, and had woken the kids up to speak to their father. There was a very slight smell of smoke in the air, but used to living rural, she dismissed it as normal.

  They walked into the darkened house and turned on the radio set Preston had switched off when he had gone to bed. It took a couple of minutes to warm up, but it soon glowed and its two dials showed movement. Maggie went into the kitchen to put on the coffee machine. She filled the machine with ground coffee and water and switched it on. It didn’t work. She looked around the kitchen and saw that the LED lights on the stove, the microwave, and the coffee machine itself weren’t lit up. She opened the refrigerator and found it to be dark inside and cool but not cold. It wasn’t like Martie to miss things like this, she thought, as she tried the kitchen light switch. It worked, and this made her even more puzzled. Why would there be electricity, but every appliance in the house not working? The radio and the lights were! She went back into the lounge and tried the television and computer on Preston’s desk. They were as dead as the systems in the kitchen. Then she walked to Preston’s bedroom door and quietly knocked.

  “Preston, Martie, wake up. Something’s wrong. You need to come and see the kitchen, nothing works. There’s a problem,” she stated firmly, but quietly so as not to wake the others.

  It took a minute, but both came through the door, both putting on dressing gowns as they looked just as bad as Maggie felt—their eyes still sleepy and half closed.

  “What’s the matter, Maggie?” asked Preston. “What time is it, anyway? My LED alarm clock by the bed isn’t working. I don’t even know what time it is. Don’t you know its New Year’s Day?”

  Maggie said nothing as she grabbed Preston’s hand and dragged him to the kitchen. “Ben, make sure the volume is up on the radio. I want to speak to Dad as soon as the set warms up.” She showed the two sleepyheads every electrical instrument that didn’t work in the kitchen. Preston automatically tried the light switch and realized that the main kitchen light was already on.

  “That’s funny,” was all he said before Will Smart’s voice could be heard in the lounge calling them urgently on the radio.

  “Hi Dad, Ben here,” they heard Ben say.

  “Are you okay, Ben?” asked Will. “Get your mother immediately!” he shouted on the radio as Maggie got to the radio and Ben relinquished his seat.

  “I’m here, Will,” she pressed the talk button. “So are Ben, Oprah, Preston, and Martie. “What’s the matter? You sound worried.”

  For the next 20 minutes, Will told the now white-faced listeners about what had happened the night before. He told them about the aircraft explosions, the gas explosions, having to shoot the two teens, and then odd detail that nothing in the house worked when he and Mike got there. He had tried all night to get them on the radio. Preston apologized about turning it off. Maggie told him that some things weren’t working where they were, either, and that she had smelled smoke in the morning air. There was silence on the radio as each group thought about what had happened. Preston was first to speak.

  “Will, what do you think has happened? I want you to think about it very seriously while we get everybody up and we can get together here in the lounge and discuss the situation. We have an Air Force general with us who certainly would like to know what’s going on. If you can give us 15 minutes, we will all be here,” he asked, giving Martie and Maggie hand signals to go get everybody else up. “Is that ok with you?”

  “That’s fine with me. Mike’s up, he’s my partner and he’s trying to make us coffee on the BBQ on the porch outside. Remember, it’s still night here,” was the reply.

  It took several minutes, but slowly everyone came into the hou
se. Martie was surprised to find the large bed in the hangar occupied by both Carlos and Sally, who both looked much the worse for wear—Sally’s long red hair all down in her face. Martie smiled at her friend. She had known that the two of them would eventually get it together. She woke everyone in the hangar and then met Preston outside. He had awakened Pete in his aircraft and Pete, also with dressing gown was walking back to the house in step with Preston.

  By the time they returned, Maggie had woken up Michael and her grandfather, and there was a growing collection of interesting dressing gowns waiting for them to arrive.

  Barbara and Jennifer were the last to arrive, and Martie was carrying a large pot of water to the grill on the porch to make hot water. Some guests looked at her as if she was crazy.

  “Quiet everyone,” Preston cleared his throat. “We’ve been on the radio with Will Smart, Maggie’s husband in Los Angeles. He has told us an incredible story about his area literally blowing up last night. We thought he was pulling a prank at first, but he mentioned that none of the appliances or electrical devices in his home are working. We’ve discovered that same phenomenon here since we woke up this morning, So, I’m warning you, that even though I’m struggling to believe what Will has just told us, think we all need to hear his story and then we can go from there. Will, do you hear me?”

  “Roger, Preston. I hear you clearly.”

  “Will, let me introduce you to everybody. Folks, on the radio is Will Smart, an LAPD detective which many of you have met, Maggie’s husband. On this side, Will, we have Grandpa Roebels and Michael, Martie’s grandfather and father. We have Pete Allen, Sally, and her friend Jennifer, who are all Air Force. Sally, you know Will. Buck and Barbara are here. You know Buck well and Barbara is his lady friend. Then there is Carlos, whom you have met, and then Martie and I. Maggie is here, and so are your two kids. What I want you to do is to tell us what happened to you last night and then hopefully answer my original question, which was ‘what do you think is going on,’ ok?”

  Will acknowledged and told the same story for the second time. This time, he decided to omit the killing of the two teenagers, since it was not their problem. The audience listened in shock, their mouths open.

  “Will, Pete Allen here,” said the General. “What do you think happened? Preston said that you live close to Edwards Air Force Base, is that correct?”

  “May I talk straight?” Will asked.

  “Absolutely,” Preston radioed back.

  “I have thought about the situation for a couple of hours now while trying to reach you guys on the radio. My thoughts are these. Nothing works. Cars don’t work. No electronic devise in this house works. I did not see one police car, fire engine, and ambulance last night, so they can’t be operational. My partner Mike tried a dozen police cars last night and all were useless. Not one vehicle has passed by our house since midnight, yet my truck works, and I saw a second old truck in town driving, so something works out there. But why do they work and why others don’t, I don’t know. I suggest the first thing you try is to see what works and what doesn’t work at your place, Preston.”

  “As far as the explosions we saw and heard, I saw a burning jet engine in a tree in our park, so I’m assuming a commercial aircraft was to blame for our park blowing up. I’ve never seen an aircraft crash before, but this looked like one. Then I saw dozens of explosions over the hills in downtown L.A. and an explosion in the hills by Palmdale, a town to our south. That looked like another aircraft going down. So if these explosions were all aircraft, my theory is that every aircraft in the sky acted like my coffee machine. How long would it take for every aircraft flying around here to hit the ground?”

  “About five minutes from the highest altitudes,” replied General Allen, with all the other pilots nodding in agreement.

  “Well, that’s about how long it took from start to finish,” replied Will. “Several came down pretty quickly over L.A., but then the explosions seemed to happen all around us. Even Bakersfield was lit up like a candle last night and I heard another explosion off to our east, which seemed to be the last one. To answer your question, Preston, I believe that every electrical thing in California or at least in the L.A. area has stopped working. Why it is the same for you, I don’t know yet, but I believe that every airplane flying in L.A. airspace crashed last night, all five or so minutes after midnight.”

  “Thanks, Detective Smart,” said General Allen. “I’ll get on my radio and check out the nearest Air Force base and see if they can give us more information. I’ll let you know if they give me any information that can help you.”

  With that, the General got up and walked outside to his aircraft communication center, hoping that someone could give him more information about what was happening.

  The remaining guests all asked Will questions for another ten minutes, trying to find out more, but he had already told them everything he knew and what he thought. Then the General, now dressed in his uniform, walked back in and sat down. Preston put his finger on the talk button and silence reigned.

  “My aircraft is dead. Every single part of it is totally dead. I can’t even fire up the engines. Not a single switch on the front dash works. It has battery backup and battery backup for that backup. There is no way my complete aircraft can be turned off, ever. Even my dash clock doesn’t work, or my coffee maker. My 30-year old electric razor is the only thing that works in that whole damn piece of junk out there. I plugged it in the one of your hangar sockets, Preston.”

  “If that happened to every aircraft flying around the United States, or even the world, then they would all fall to Earth within the five minutes that Will described,” replied Preston. “That means all our aircraft are now nothing more than scrap metal out there. Will, let’s all meet back here in 15 minutes. We are going out to see what works and what doesn’t work, and we’ll come back and let you know. You said your truck works, but your police cruiser didn’t? That’s where I’m starting.” Preston left the radio and went out the front door still in his dressing gown, toggling the light switch for the lounge as reached it. It worked. The whole group suddenly heard an engine coming up the driveway, and Preston saw Joe’s jeep coming around the corner with him and David in the front seat. It pulled up with a cloud of dust next to the front door and they all rushed out of the house totally shocked.

  “Something’s weird,” Joe told Preston before Preston could open his mouth. “Nothing works at my house. The kitchen’s dead, the lights work because of the generator, but apart from all our vehicles we’ve already tried, everything else is dead. Even your gate didn’t open. David and I had to manually force it open to get in here.”

  “We know,” replied Preston. “We heard from Maggie’s husband in L.A. and you won’t believe what he told us. Joe, David, come with me. We need to find out what works around here.” The two got out of the truck and followed Preston to his old Ford. The rest were all headed in different directions to the aircraft parked around the vicinity. Preston got in the truck, and as usual it started the first time. He sat there thinking and started putting two and two together.

  “Everything that’s old still works,” he stated to David and Joe, who were standing by the open driver’s door. “Joe, you tried everything mobile at your house. What vehicles don’t work?”

  “None,” replied Joe. “But then everything I own is old. Even the trucks are all 1970 models.” Preston heard Lady Dandy’s engine start up and that really caused his brow to line. “Old engines work, but why?” he mused. “That thing got carburetors in it?” Joe pointed over to the DC-3. Preston nodded and suddenly knew what Joe was thinking.

  “If the carburetors are the reason the Ford and the DC-3 both work then that’s why the general’s plane doesn’t work,” added Joe. “Its engines must be electrically controlled. It’s not the engines that don’t work,” stated Joe, seeing the light. “It’s the electrical controls.”

  Preston turned off the engine, got out, closed the driver’s door, and
walked towards the aircraft with Joe in tow. He heard and noticed Baby Huey’s twin rotors starting to turn. “1960s equipment works,” observed Preston. Then he stood still as the Pilatus’ one engine started turning. “1970s equipment works,” he added. “You’re right Joe, it’s not the engines in the aircraft, it’s the modern electronics that surround the running of the engines.” That means every aircraft in the hangar will work, but my crop sprayer was built in the 1980s. Let see if my theory is correct.” Preston tried to open the hangar doors, but the button did nothing. “All this stuff comes from the late 1990s and doesn’t work—same with the gate opener.”

  By this time, he had reached his crop sprayer, which was still parked outside and out of the way. He climbed in, and turned on several switches, and the engine turned normally as he pressed the starter. The only thing dead on his dash was its new GPS system.

  “Everything works, Joe, except my new Garmin GPS. Once again, this old bird’s got carburetors.” Pete Allen came up to the other men and watched. “Carburetors work, engines without carburetors don’t work. What’s the difference?” And then it hit him. “Yes! The electrical components in the engines and engine-management systems—engines work, but anything electronic and GPS systems don’t work,” Preston said to the two other men. “Here’s something funny. I have the usual two radios in here. One is working and one isn’t. The old one—the original one that was installed in this aircraft in 1982—works. The other one quit on me a couple of years ago and I installed a new one. It’s a Bendix King and is about three years old. I installed it from King Aviation myself and it is as dead as your whole aircraft, Pete.”

  “That figures,” replied Pete. “My King Air is the most modern you can have—the Air Force doesn’t care what it costs—but the Pilatus started the first time. Old electronics seem to work; otherwise the Pilatus would be as dead as mine. Let’s go over and see what’s working on Sally’s bird. That could tell us more,” he suggested.