“For this is what the Sovereign Lord says: How much worse will it be when I send against Jerusalem my four dreadful judgments—sword and famine and wild beasts and plague—to kill its men and their animals!” Ezekiel 14:21
This has been one heck of a week, Jeff thought, a week like he had never experienced. The electricity had remained off for about twenty-four hours a few days ago when all the power went out. Since newspapers could not be printed and television and radio stations could report the news only sporadically, powered by emergency generators, most in the United States still had no clue as to what happened, did not know the electrical grids had been powered down, intentionally. Had it not been for Jeff’s interest in amateur radio (HAM), he would have remained among the uninformed. Powering up the battery operated ham radio, Jeff soon made contact with a young man in Canada who informed him that the government most likely authorized the disconnect of the grid system, just as Canada had done. Even backup generators could be affected.
Today Jeff planned to stop by Starbucks at Perimeter Mall in Dunwoody, a routine he rarely missed; before buying Mother’s Day flowers to leave on his Mom’s grave, the second year that Jeff had done so since his Mom died from colon cancer. He did miss her tremendously, even missed her harping on Jeff to “get some religion Sonny Boy. It’ll change your life, maybe get Melissa back,” and Jeff was glad that his Mom didn’t know that Melissa wasn’t coming back and had married someone else.
When the power did finally come back, a good thing because Jeff had to gas up his GTR with the spare tank of lawnmower fuel he always kept in his garage since all the gas pumps were down, he learned more about the power outage and why it happened.
Chinese and Russian grids were still down, crispy-fried when the solar storm collided with Earth’s magnetic field, and would probably remain down for at least another week. Jeff wondered what those poor people were doing, not able to pump gas, freeze or cool food and beer, especially the beer. Jeff knew the Russians were not only consumers of large quantities of vodka but also loved their Baltica beer. There was even a large beer display at the Russian Museum of Ethnography in St. Petersburg. Jeff had toured the museum when he had toured Russia with Melissa a few years earlier.
The aurora borealis, Northern Lights, is caused by solar activity and its reaction to the magnetic field surrounding Earth, primarily around the Arctic; and Jeff had never seen the phenomenon until the recent solar storm. It was the first time he ever remembered the Northern Lights being visible in the South. Even in Jacksonville, Florida, folks could see remnants of the aurora in the extremely dark night sky.
Jeff parked the GTR and headed to Starbucks where his morning routine would start with a latté and an Atlanta Journal and Constitution. A few minutes later, Jeff was standing in the middle of Ashford Dunwoody Road among the destroyed yoshino cherry trees, after helping a young, ponytailed girl and an apparent professor escape the Starbucks.
“Are you guys alright?” Jeff asked the question; but then, who could be all right after what just happened. Talk about making a hasty exit. Another explosion a few blocks north once again disturbed what had been the serene morning air; and the three saw smoke rising in the distance.
It seemed a miracle to Jeff, if miracles actually happened, that the three were nearly unblemished after the front windows of Starbucks blew in, covering them with dust and debris but sparing them the glass shards that had done in Latté Lady.
The professor and blond ponytail shook their heads in the affirmative, they were fine except for the shock; and Jeff bounded back into the now destroyed Starbucks to see if he could help Jenifer, a.k.a. Latté Lady, as she lay still, unmoving on the floor, not unconscious but dazed by the explosion and the injuries she received to her face and torso.
Jeff carefully examined Jenifer but did not move her. She tried to lift her head, but could not do so. He knew from her injuries that she would most likely lose her sight. Small glass shards were imbedded into both eyes; and Jenifer asked Jeff, not recognizing his face since she couldn’t see it, “Is it dark?”
Sirens were approaching from all directions. Jeff wasn’t sure how the emergency vehicles would traverse Ashford Dunwoody Road, with the cherry trees blocking all lanes of the street.
Once emergency services did arrive, Jeff left Jenifer’s care to the professionals and went back outside. The professor and Blonde Ponytail were being examined by the paramedics but were mostly undamaged by the blast, at least physically. The mental damage would be long-lasting.
This week might be as bad as the previous, Jeff thought and again he questioned what in the world was going on. He had to get to a TV, fast. Park Place Café would not open until four o’clock, still six hours in the future, if they opened at all. Hopefully Jeff’s favorite watering hole was not damaged.
After giving the Dunwoody Police a statement, Jeff crossed the parking lot of the Publix, hoping his new car wasn’t damaged. Other than a small dent on the hood and a broken headlight, the car seemed fine; and Jeff felt a little guilty that he was worried about his GTR when many lives had probably been lost this morning. He drove from Publix to the Perimeter Mall Radio Shack, knowing that Radio Shack was probably the closest TV news source.
The Breaking News alert appeared on all channels, and Jeff wished that FOX and CNN would change the jingles a little. There were so many Breaking News alerts these days, it was almost like the-sky-is-falling hysteria. Why couldn’t they have a jingle for normal Breaking News and another one for real Breaking News? Regardless, Jeff knew that today all breaking news was real, and not hysteria.
Condi Zimmerman was the anchor today, visiting New York’s FOX studios; and Jeff figured it was only a matter of time before she left channel five and joined the other beautiful women at FOX News full time. She certainly qualified in all categories.
“This is both a big news day and a bad news day. There seems to be tragedy, more than usual, from all corners of the world.
“There have been world-wide power outages caused by the solar storm that passed through last week. A security guard at CDC, Russ Ivies, is still hospitalized with an unknown illness; and there have been reports of a possible smallpox outbreak affecting dozens of people from Europe, China, Africa, Asia and the United States.”
Jeff guessed CDC must be keeping Samarra’s sickness hush- hush, and that couldn’t be a good sign.
Condi continued.
“Dolphins are attacking surfers in South Africa. There have been numerous wrecks and fatalities in several cities, because all the traffic signals were programmed to stay on green, a possible cyber-attack.
“Bombs have detonated all over the United States, France and England. Manhattan had an earthquake, and now there’s news of an asteroid or some other large Near-Earth Object heading our way.
“Let’s go to our FOX correspondent in downtown New York who is monitoring the closing of the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels, Erica Robbins. Erica, tell us what you know so far.”
“Thanks Condi. Yes, there have been multiple explosions all over the country, seemingly in almost every state and throughout Europe and Asia. No one is taking responsibility at this time, but the coordination of attacks has all the markings of al-Qaeda or some other Muslim extremist group, though there has been reported chatter from an unknown Christian militia.
“The tunnels were just closed, and when the remaining traffic gets through, the tunnels will remain closed until their safety can be assured.”
The muffled explosion wasn’t loud, like some that Erica had reported on in her history as a news correspondent; but from the vibration of the ground beneath her feet, Erica knew it was a significant blast.
Vinny never returned to Global Warming HVAC after securing the Spanish Flu virus inside the four air-handling units at Terminal E. His mission, at least that mission, was complete, finis.
Before meeting with the Martyrs Brigade, a very secret jihadist organization comprised of several hundred Pakistanis, Afghanis, Saudis and Syrians who entered the United States via the porous Mexican border, Vinny contacted one of his compatriots at Global Warming to make sure no one was looking for him.
“Jackson, Vinny here. Has anyone found the chicken?” Vinny wanted to keep the conversation as brief as possible, just in case that devil, Uncle Sam, might be monitoring cell phone calls; and Vinny used the code word, knowing that Jackson would know exactly what Vinny meant.
“Hey. All is clear. Bubba called CDC when Charley never returned. The security desk checked the sign-in register and told Bubba that Charley had signed in, serviced the chiller, and signed out about an hour later.”
Vinny was glad to hear that no one knew about Charley; and he doubted if they would ever find his body, at least for a while. It was well hidden in the grave that Vinny dug in the woods before the killing, covered with lime to camouflage the smell. The grave was then covered with leaves and debris and looked as natural as nature itself.
The Brigade would carry out the next phase; bombings in every state, except Alaska. A jihadist would stand out like a sour thumb in Alaska and Vinny confused the word “sour” for sore. Most middle easterners, especially those from Saudi Arabia, like those blessed and brave martyrs of the successful 9/11 rebuke, hated cold temperatures.
Meeting with the Brigade Commandant, Vinny affirmed that the martyrs were established and in place. During Vinny’s last visit to Pakistan, the training was mostly dedicated to making this Great Day happen in a coordinated, timely fashion.
“Aboud,” Muhammed addressed Vinny by his real name, “You know how important this mission is. Once this glorious day happens, it will be very difficult to carry out future attacks inside the United States. Europe will still be easy, but the Americans will probably seal the borders and shut the ports. The coordination needs to be precise.”
“It will be Muhammed.”
Muhammed still found it hard to believe that the Americans left their borders so accessible. Over and over again, their politicians had been advised to control the borders, but they didn’t seem to hear. Why the American leaders were so blind to the obvious was hard to figure out, but he knew why. Insha’Allah, the will of God. Keep turning that other cheek. I’m coming after you. Vinny’s thoughts stirred from his flashback to Pakistan as the Commandant interrupted.
“Vinny, you ok?” Vinny didn’t look so good.
“What about the tunnels? Are they covered?” Vinny asked. “They are. The hijacked UPS trucks, complete with proper papers and American-looking drivers, will enter the Lincoln and the Holland tunnels about five minutes before the bombing schedule. They will be well inside the tunnels before the first bombs go off.”
That was the plan. The trucks, some cargo vans and eighteen- wheelers, would enter several tunnels in New York, Virginia and Europe, a few minutes before the bombings started. The cargo vans, loaded to the hilt with fertilizer-diesel bombs, ala the Oklahoma bomber, Timothy McVey, would be the instruments of choice for any tunnel that wasn’t underwater.
Eighteen-wheelers were not scrutinized by the Port Authority as closely as they should have been and would be used in the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. They could carry much larger and capable explosives, hopefully large enough to rupture the tunnel roofs, allowing the Hudson River to flood the tunnels, Manhattan and the subway system. These explosives had been carefully designed to mimic the EFPs that Iran was providing to the Taliban and Iraqi resistance, and the EFP had been very successful in killing U.S. soldiers.
The EFP, explosively-formed penetrator, was the big brother to the IEDs initially used in Afghanistan and Iraq. Instead of a generalized explosion that expanded in all directions, the EFP was designed to focus all its destructive power in one specific direction, upward.
Vinny had high-hopes that they would have great success, flooding the tunnels with the Hudson River. He thought of all the drownings, less infidels to worry about. Vinny didn’t worry about the children, because he knew that they would just grow up to be infidels too, so to him, and others of his ilk, it was a preemptive strike.