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

by T I WADE

  “I have two that will work immediately and we have the forklift that can get them into the belly of a C-130,” replied Preston. “There are two more that will take a day or so of work to put together. Actually, if I give them to you, your diesel engineers could get them up and running within hours and your Air Force electrician could feed their electrical needs straight into the diesel engines within a day or so. It is simple electrical engineering.”

  “Good!” exclaimed the general. “We will load the two perfect ones once we have fueled up. I want to take one to Andrews and then I’m flying over to Hill in Salt Lake City, fuel permitting. Whatever you want in return is yours, Preston. I’m worried about the President. I believe he must be trapped in the White House if Andrews is closed down, and I want to see who’s running this country. It could be us for all I know. Now Joe, David, let us have your news, please. What did you see out there?”

  “A lousy world is beginning to stir out there,” started Joe. “We saw two old vehicles running around, one with a bunch of teenage kids with guns. As soon as they saw we also had guns, they drove away like a bat out of hell. They were just looking for trouble. We saw three dead people. Two had been run over—I don’t know if by accident or intentionally—and one old man had had his head shot off. Other than that, we saw masses of dead vehicles of all sorts out there, and a group of people ripping through a supermarket and taking food and stuff to their houses on dozens of lawn tractors. One guy was even patrolling his yard with his lawn tractor and he had a shotgun at the ready. He just gave us a nasty look when we drove past. I’d hate to see him if those kids in the car find him. There’ll be a gun battle for sure.”

  “It’s going to get pretty ugly out there in about a week, or even less I reckon,” added David. “I need to go back and load up about a ton of ammo for my ferrets. I’m glad we’ll have armored vehicles and I believe we are going to need them. Joe and I are going to his house and set up the forward and rear-standing machine guns on both the jeeps. I’m going to get my ferrets loaded and we’ll be ready to ride shotgun for you guys in less than about four hours, with Joe’s sons’ help. I believe we need to arm ourselves, and quickly.”

  “Preston?” asked General Allen. Preston told them about the situation at the airport and the four gas trailers totaling 20,000 gallons that could be commandeered. Joe cut in, adding that he could get two of them today with some help, and then work on getting the other two the next day. Preston suggested that he, Michael, Joe, and David should be enough.

  It was then that Will Smart called them from California. They were eager to hear some good news, but there was none. Will said ‘Hi’ to Maggie and the kids and got on with his news.

  “The roads are nearly impassable with dead cars everywhere. It took Mike and I 90 minutes to get to the main gate at you-know where. The boss of the place told me not to say anything over the radio. The guards told me to scram, until I told them what you had told me to tell them, General, then they escorted me in my truck to the colonel’s office, since they had nothing working in the whole place. The colonel was sort of relaxed when I gave him your call sign and told him that you were in North Carolina and, as far as we all thought, reckoned that this problem was countrywide and could even be worldwide. He told me to give you the message that all birds are down and that includes all the blackbirds, whatever that means.”

  “I can’t say over the microphone, Detective, but I will fill you in when I can. Carry on.”

  “There is nothing moving at that place—no cars, trucks, no planes, no helicopters, no electricity, no nothing except guns and soldiers on foot. The old man has old radios that will take a few days to power up their old batteries, but none of them will reach you on the East Coast. I told him that you are mobile and he asked you to come and visit. Other than that, it’s fine around here. There is a sort of quiet that could break at any moment, but we haven’t heard any gunfire yet. Our supplies will last us a couple of weeks, because for some dumb reason our old freezer is still working and I found our old refrigerator in the shed is still working. The old stuff RULES here, man!” Will ended.

  “What do you want us to do?’ asked Maggie.

  “Hell, Mags,” he replied “I reckon you are safest over there. Let’s see what tomorrow brings and if it gets bad over here, I’ll head back to the base with Mike, his wife, and his two girls. We were offered a place to stay since we’re friends of the General and all that.” Everybody in North Carolina laughed.

  “Will, I will be coming over there soon,” added the general “Let’s keep a steady connection because we will lose you if you move, unless you can take the radio with you. Preston, can Detective Smart move his radio?”

  “Sure,” interrupted young Ben. “The way we’ve got it set up is that as long as it’s within 90-120 miles of the closest antenna on the cell phone tower, or in direct sight, it will work. And the closest cell-phone tower is about 50 miles east of Edwards, which is even better.”

  “Will,” Preston said, getting back on the radio. “You can move anytime you think it’s necessary and it will be better for everyone concerned because we will all have communications. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “10/4. Understood loud and clear. I just pick this baby up and transport it, right?”

  “Yes, as long as the antenna connection is separated from the set, it should be easy to carry. If not, you can always to get the electricians on base to help you, I’m sure they will be more than willing.”

  General Allen thanked Will and left with Preston to load the generators outside. The fuelling was complete and it took them half an hour with the forklift, including tying the heavy engines down inside the aircraft, to get them all loaded in. Preston was becoming amazed at what these C-130s could carry. The engines weighed a ton each and Jennifer told him that the aircraft wouldn’t even notice the weight.

  They watched as Jennifer and General Allen took off, to the north this time, and the aircraft didn’t use a foot more runway than the last time. Preston shook his head in wonder, but there was more to be done. It was time to help unload Sally’s C-130 and here he got a shock. The soldiers and all the remaining civilians started working to carry tents and supplies out of the rear door of the large aircraft. They asked Preston where they should set them up, and he suggested each side of the old barn. It was time to keep all the working aircraft on this side of the runway and move the General’s dead King Air to the other side out of the way. Michael had already moved the Pilatus off the apron and it stood facing the runway on the other side of the fuel tanks.

  “You guys got families?” asked Preston as he went up to help.

  “Yes sir,” was the reply from the man who seemed in charge. “I’m First Sergeant Perry, sir. The married men living off base are being allowed to go home on a day’s leave to see their families. The married men on base are on guard duty and have nothing better to do since our families are already on base, sir. Where do we put these machine guns?”

  “Machine guns?” asked Preston.

  “Yes sir! We were ordered to bring a couple of them. Actually, we have six of them plus 12,000 rounds of .50-caliber ammo. The General said that we should set one or two up on your guard tower to face your entrance. The guys back at base are searching for a couple of old 500-pound bombs for your Mustangs and we might even have some rockets for your P-38, if you’re lucky. Tech Sergeants Smith and Matheson over there, sir, are experts on armaments and the rocket hitches we brought along, and they are itching to work on your aircraft, sir. We also have a dozen rolls of barbed wire and were ordered to place them around the gate at your entrance along the frontal boundary, and we will bring in more if needed on our next trip.”

  Preston noticed that a couple of the soldiers were far older than he was. These weren’t kids, he realized. The General had brought men who knew their trades.

  “The gate and tower is your concern, and you know what to do. Just don’t shoot anybody coming in. The ammo dump is in the old barn over
there. Use the fork lift. You’ll be surprised what we have already in there. They,” he motioned to the tech sergeants, “don’t touch my aircraft without my permission, understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” was the reply.

  “Are you guys going back today?” asked Preston.

  “No sir. We are here on guard duty under your command until the General tells us otherwise. We have our own field tent, food, and everything we need and we will be on guard duty in shifts of four, every four hours until further orders, sir. I plan to have two men constantly up in the tower and two walking the perimeter around the entrance area at all times. I just need to know where we can place our four porta-potties, sir.”

  Chapter 18

  Z-Day

  It was mid-day in Minneapolis, and several other cities in the north. Temperatures had risen slightly to -10 degrees and it was far warmer than it had been several hours ago. Parts of Canada were still in the -20s and the two major problems facing people still alive were a warm place to stay and food to feed their human bodies to create inner warmth.

  Even though most of the northerners were used to extreme cold weather, they did not live in it for long periods of time. Some were lucky and had their heater systems working—mostly gas or very old building furnaces that were fed fuel oil or could be heated with wood or coal. For many in new and modern buildings, it was worse—the more modern the building, the worse it was. For the ones who were outside, they congregated by the fires burning since midnight. Others started new fires, sometimes lighting up wooden structures like single-car wooden garages, or their own garden tool sheds.

  Many tried to stay in bed, the only place to keep the body warmth in, all thinking that this was temporary and the authorities would get the electricity back on soon. Parties were starting as fast as others were dying. People who had heat allowed others to share their heat if they brought food or gas for the grill, the more food and drink the merrier. Shops were beginning to be broken into. Many were protected by their owners, but the supermarkets were devoid of people and they were prime targets.

  On the first day, and with no police around to curb shoplifting, all supermarkets were still pretty much secure. Here and there, the first brave people had broken a window and were sneaking around trying not to be seen and helping themselves to all they could carry—fresh produce, milk, eggs, the unfrozen meat in the deli, bakery items, and of course beer, wine and all bottles of alcohol. Many were still disciplined by their upbringing and tried to pay for the food at the unattended cash registers by leaving money. Then they bartered food from their escapades to get into the houses that still had heat if theirs didn’t.

  Where there was fire, people began to gather and meet new friends, try and help the elderly, and be good citizens, while others were contemplating how to become rich, stay alive, and protect themselves from others who thought the same way. These people needed transportation, men, and guns.

  Still, for thousands of people in the smaller, less crowded cities, many were learning quickly how to stay alive. Everyone was sure that somebody would turn on the power at some point. For others in worse areas, there were many dead or dying—frozen corpses in bed, outside in their vehicles, in hospitals that were becoming devoid of help, in old age homes, and in prisons and other places where people weren’t free to move and their controllers had disappeared to look after their own families. These unfortunates were next, the cold quickly seeping into their veins. With each subsequent cold, dark night, the death toll climbed, taking its victims from those groups of people who were the oldest and weakest.

  Times Square was now deserted, apart from the bodies of the thousands of people who hadn’t made it out. Several fires were starting to die down, while others continued to find new fuel. Here around the fires, people could be found trying to keep warm. The underground areas were full of hopefuls who were just waiting for the electricity to come on. At least there was no wind chill, and the temperature was the same as the earth around them—a warmer 40 to 50 degrees. The Metro was a place where many of the visitors had found refuge. The platforms were filled to overflowing. Most of the crowds kept warm by huddling together while they waited for the next train that would never come. In some stations, the trains were stationary in the station and even more people had fitted themselves into the enclosed areas. Many were sleeping or sitting on the seats, eating whatever they had found or stolen, smoking, drinking, or just trying to stay out of each other’s way.

  Tall buildings were still secure, nobody wanting to climb up the long staircases, or down them. Here, wind chill was a factor. The buildings were slowly losing their heat and the constant cold winds were gradually stealing the warmth through the many windows, balcony doors, cracks, and holes. The death rate had slowed for the first time that day by mid-day. For millions of people in the upper northern areas around the world, who were safe from crime and the streets, it was a day of waiting—their faith constant that the power would come on. They had food and drink, although many only had cold sustenance and their questions were: “Where are the police, fire engines, and ambulances?” and “When is that asshole in charge of all this going to turn on the power!”

  * * *

  The warehouse on the Hudson was quiet. Captain Mallory was the only one awake, and had started taking notice of the hundreds of packed cases around them. There must be food in them somewhere. Then he remembered the refrigerator many of the passengers and crew were staying warm in and he thought it was a good place to start. He opened the door to find many still asleep, curled up close to each other keeping warm.

  He flashed the torch around for the first time towards the rear of the fridge and saw boxes of food items tucked away in the dark recesses. Cheeses that looked like they had come from Europe with the description on the cases seemed to be in many of the boxes. There were other cases with Chinese, Russian, French and German writing on them. And it looked like there was enough to last all 143 of them quite a while.

  He walked to the back, over sleeping bodies, and took a smaller box off one of the shelves. Then he noticed a second door on the rear wall. It looked like, and he assumed that it was, a freezer door. He was right and in it his flashlight identified cases of frozen meat. The captain closed the door quickly as the cold air rushed out and prompted several complaints from the bodies on the ground.

  “I’ve got the cheese,” he reported to his co-pilot John, half asleep on a chair by the door. “I’m off to find something to go with it.”

  It was time to seriously look around, but he wanted to locate the rest of the passengers, who were in a couple of other areas in the warehouse. He returned to where he had found the luxury vehicles and as he thought, others had found them as well based on the mist on the inside of the windows.

  By now, sunlight was streaming through the east windows and he noticed another door leading into an area behind the back wall. This door had steel bars over the windows and he tried the door and looked through the window. It looked like a museum—a vehicle museum—or at least a storage area for old vehicles. He could see what looked like a 50-year old fire engine, an old 1950s Studebaker police car, a couple of old SWAT team police-blue vehicles that were definitely from the 1960s, and then what looked like a couple of old white ambulances. The large area looked like a movie set, or at least storage facilities for movie equipment, since there were also steel lifts, cameras, and other film-making equipment.

  Then he saw what he thought was more important—a couple of fancy home gas grills standing in a corner, already set up to feed the workers or something as they stood under a old steel kitchen hood where a more permanent cooking area must have been. He could see holes on the opposite wall where plugs or equipment had been removed. This part of the high-ceilinged room looked like some sort of old restaurant. The front area was wood-paneled and on the walls hung old black and white pictures.

  The door was firm and locked as he tried it for the second time. His co-pilot and a couple of the flight attendants found him sti
ll trying the door.

  “There are cooking facilities in there,” the captain explained to the new arrivals. “Where there are gas grills, there is a way to cook food. John, I want you to back the forklift up to the main door to the outside and let me slide out. None of the inner doors work or will open. They are all heavily secured, we have no keys and no way to open them from the inside, hopefully I will have more chance from the outside. I want to go around the outer building and see if I can get into this room behind the door. I think it’s time somebody looked around it and it might as well be me.”

  John nodded and he walked back to the forklift. He got in, started it up, and looked at the controls for a few seconds trying to figure out the workings of the machine—it certainly wasn’t a 737. He figured it out and slowly let out the brake, the forklift moving backwards slowly and the door opening.

  “Three loud slow thumps on the door followed by three quick ones will be me wanting to come back in,” ordered Captain Mallory, and he squeezed through the narrow gap. John moved the machine into forward gear and closed the door tight behind the captain and sat there waiting.

  The outside air smelled horrible—a smoky mist hung in the air with a slight breeze moving it across his nostrils. He knelt and looked around carefully. Nothing, apart from the water, was moving. The wharf was mostly destroyed by a couple of boats that were half sunk or stuck into the banks on both sides of the river. The other side was a couple of hundred yards away and a massive fire was still in full swing burning up a warehouse much like the one they were in. It was a few hundred yards further down river, and what he could see on his side wasn’t much, but it was time for him to move. There was debris flowing past in a non-stop tide as he slowly moved along the wall of the warehouse upriver, his eyes noticing every bit of movement. He looked up and couldn’t see the sky at all from what looked and smelled like Los Angeles smog.