The End: Book II: Survivors

By Dan Martin

Full of growing suspense and surprise turns, "The End," set in the very near future, follows the winding and overlapping paths of several compelling characters as they're forced to navigate independent, yet inter-winding paths through the turbulent waters of a post-apocalyptic planet. These men, women and children struggle to make impossibl

• Language: English
• Publisher: DIY Sufficient
• Release date: Sep 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087890463

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Cover Art by Dan Martin

Back Cover image by Thomas Lancaster

Edited by Barbara Seiden

Text by Dan Martin, unless otherwise noted

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2022 by Dan Martin

No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form by any means without permission in writing from the author.

Certain parts of this book are works of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead (unless explicitly noted) is merely coincidental. As a major portion of this novel is set in the future, the trends, forecasts, and conclusions provided herein should not be construed as being definitive projections for the purposes of political or economic decision-making. No assurances are offered, either implicitly or explicitly, that these projections, trends, or forecasts will occur. All this being said, this book, like all art, is true. With respect to clinical matters noted in this book, individuals should consult with their doctor (or other health professional) prior to considering, adopting, or applying any such plans, treatments, suggestions, or procedures.

This book is also a scientific treatise; where applicable, appropriate references to scientific results have been noted. All this being said, this book, like all science, is falsifiable. Certain parts of this book are works of fiction and for entertainment purposes only. To the best of my knowledge, the results and outcomes of all described activities, experiments and methods will result as described in the following chapters. Attempting to follow the described steps may result in property damage, serious injury, or death. Before repeating and of the activities, review all pertinent safety information. Dan Martin, DIYsufficient.com. Ingram Publishing assume no liability for personal injury, property damage, or loss from actions inspired by information in this book.

Printed in the United States of America.

Library of Congress Control Number:

ISBN 9781087890456

Published by Ingram Publishing

In collaboration with Dan Martin

www.DIYSufficient.com

Other Softcover Books by Dan Martin:

Apocalypse, How to Survive a Global Crisis

Breaking The Grid, A Guide to Self-Sufficiency

Digital Self-Help Guides by Dan Martin (Available at DIYSufficient.com):

Build a Hydrogen Generator

DIY Passive Heating/Cooling

How to Build a Solar Panel

Convert a Car to Electric

How to Live Off the Grid

How to Build a Wind Turbine

Solar Panels for Beginners

Build a Solar Water Heater

How to Make Ethanol Fuel

Build a Compost Toilet

How to Build a Free Home

Build a Solar Oven

Build a Biodigester

DIY Methane Fuel

Build an Alcohol Stove

Build a Solar Oven

Build a Wood Gas Stove

Home Fish Farming

How to Make Bio Diesel

Build a Solar Dehydrator

Build a Water Turbine

How to Hydroponics

How to Clone Plants

Build a Rocket Stove

How to Pottery

Build a Bee Hive

Bee Keeping 101

How to Brew Your Own Beer

How to Make Grain Whiskey

DIY Food Preserving

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, there is no other person who has or could have contributed to the making of this book more than my wife, Lucia. She researched, wrote, did 1st phase editing, and lived it with me. She gave me my first Sustainable Living book, sparking us to take the plunge of leaving society and surviving on our own. She left her country, family, friends, career, and abandoned her material possessions and societal comforts to live on an unknown, unseen, inhospitable, ‘inhabitable’ mountain, with me in seclusion, entirely alone. Thank you, Lucia.

I would like to thank my very close friend, Jennifer Lopez, who eagerly and effortlessly proofed the entire book, providing critical feedback as a reader, before it was published.

I thank my editor, Barbara F. Seiden, who also spent countless hours reviewing, proofing and editing the manuscript many times with a fine-tooth comb so that you, the reader, had the masterpiece you have in front of you, and not the mangled, garbled version I wrote.

I would also like to thank my life partner Julia Vang who, besides proofing and publishing the book, stood by, supported and was patient with me, helping to make this, my 2nd book, become a reality.

I ‘have’ to thank Greta Thunberg. At 15, Greta became one of the strongest environmental activist figures of our time. In the following books, she’ll become a key and integral element of the story’s evolution. I’m happy to include at least part of her tale here and wish to dedicate the the entire series to her, her efforts, her triumphs, setbacks and future roadblocks. Thank you, Ms. Thunberg, for everything you’ve done and everything you’ll do!

Finally, thank you my fans, and thank you, my dear reader, for loving my work! I couldn’t and wouldn’t do any of it if not for you.

When confronted with the impossible and unbelievable, the most viable options are often the most irrational.

-Greta Thunberg, May 2027

(This book is dedicated to Pa Nhia)

Five fucking days!!

...

...This is illegal!!!

...

...

...HEEEEELOOOOOO!!

...

...You can’t withhold food from us.... we didn’t do anything!

...

"...You’re violating our constitutional rights!!!

...

...

...I know you can hear me! We’re fucking starving in here!! You’re literally starving us to death, you maggot!

...

...

...FUCK YOU, THEN!!!

...

...Ok, I’m sorry!

...

...

...ANSWER ME!!!

...

...

Stop yelling! No one’s there, they’re all dead, Asshole calmly said, sitting quietly in his cell.

...

...

GUARD!!!!

...

...

...

"...Fuck, I pissed myself!

...

Chapter 1: The Russian

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Pier 33, Island Ferry Terminal)

Well damn, this sucks!

...

...

...

Chapter 2: The Nightingale

Inmate 2767 (State Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas)

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life and realize there’s not much left, ’Coz I’ve been blastin’ and laughin’ so long, that even my mama thinks that my mind is gone. But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it. Me be treated like a punk, you know, that’s unheard of. You better watch how you're talkin’, and where you’re walkin’, or you and your homies might be lined in chalk!

...

...

...YOU ALL LIKE THAT SHIT!!

...

...YA’ALL HEAR ME!!!

...

Block 3C is for violent criminals, that’s me... a violent criminal! Well, music lover, songwriter by trade, violent criminal by night! Murderers, pedophiles, narcs... those of us that need to be segregated from gen pop for ‘our, or others, protection’. We don’t get cellies, extended yard time or work detail. No time off for good behavior or out crew. An hour of commissary every other week, some library, mail, basically it’s what folks call ‘solitary confinement’. We call it ‘da hole’. I’m no murderer, though. Got a bum rap... a victum of da’ system! Still, here I am. Here I’ll stay.

Chapter 3: Birds of a Feather

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Pier 33, Island Ferry Terminal)

There we were, standing side by side at the end of the wharf--me, a 7’2" 280 lb. Russian, and a teenaged, 5ft nothing, 70 lb. Chinese (pure speculation) girl, waiting for the ferry to go back.

Three hours and fifteen minutes earlier, I’d purchased my ticket and come over to the island along with 49 other tourists, the Chinese girl included. We’d all gotten a brief tour and a small synopsis on the history of the historic site from a very short, plump man with a thick New York accent before being let loose to freely roam the grounds. Fast forward to present, and there’s no ferry and no one else but the two of us left on the island.

The girl looks up at me. The movement brings my attention down and we make eye contact.

...

So you’re from China, huh? I finally said, trying to break the tension.

...

The short, fat tour guide didn’t speak Russian either, or Chinese, it would appear, since neither of us got the ‘early departure’ message! Didn’t help that they got you walking around the entire time listening to the tour through giant headphones, either. Probably couldn’t have heard anything even if we wanted to!

...We’re pretty much neighbors, you and me.

...

She didn’t say anything. Just stood there looking up at me.

...I’m from Russia. Actually, I’m Crimean, or rather, Ukranian, since Sevastopol is still technically part of Ukraine. Never mind. It’s complicated.

So there we were, two peas in a pod, stuck on a short, concrete pier, shoulder to, well, my wrist, waiting on a ferry that was obviously long gone.

Fairy should be herra, she finally said, gesturing to her watch and pointing at the pamphlet.

She didn’t actually say that. I just imagined that’s what she said since neither one of us can understand a word the other’s saying! She actually said a bunch of stuff, all in Chinese (again, pure speculation). Hell, she ‘could’ have said it, though!

...Ony 10 minute before departure timey!

Ok, most likely she didn’t say or sound anything like that. Still, I got the gist... the ferry, well, it should be here!

I know! Either the time is wrong, or they changed it or something, I replied.

According to the handout, though, there was another ferry, the last ferry of the day, at 9:30. We'd just have to wait.

...No biggy, I said, sweeping the ground, hands open, palms down... the universal hand sign I’d just made up for ‘it’s all good!’

...We just need to hang out for a bit!

...

...

Chapter 4: The Sociopath

Russ Wilson (Pilot Gas Station, Hwy 60)

With a debilitating headache, the endless rows of small, flat, white medicine boxes make finding mere cough syrup a nightmare. And between what seems like a month-long trip to the gas station, and now a full-blown fever, getting back to the hotel and reaching my bed is going to be a real mission!

Chapter 5: Stranded

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Pier 33, Island Ferry Terminal)

Ten minutes came and went without any sign of the ferry.

Do you have a phone? I asked, holding an imaginary phone to my ear.

...

...A phone... you know, hello... talkie talkie... take selfies!

I have riss! She said.

Ya, that’s a GoPro.

...me neither.

...

...Leave the phone and the rat race behind, they said... Disconnect, take a vacation, get away, it’ll be good for you, they said!

...

...Fuck.

...

Chapter 6: The Engineer

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 50,000 ft.)

Attention, passengers, this is your co-pilot on tonight’s Continental Flight 192. My name is Mr. Rogers.

Lol.

... We hope you’re having a pleasant flight so far, and we thank you again for choosing Continental. Outside temps are a balmy 80°, and it looks like we’ll be right on time for our arrival. We ‘are’ incurring a slight glitch with our coms, however, and ‘do’ have a quick favor to ask... despite regular protocol and what our lovely flight attendants have instructed, if everyone wouldn’t mind turning on your devices and attempting a simple phone call.

Oook.

...‘If’ anyone’s able to get a connection, do me a favor and press the overhead call button to alert an attendant. And again, from all of us here at Continental, thank you for--

Are they serious? I asked my aisle seatmate. Not as much a real query as just venting.

...Ridiculous!

*DING*

Chapter 7: Swimming with the Fishes

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Pier 33, Island Ferry Terminal)

Nine-thirty came and went without any sign of any ferries; and there we were, still standing next to each other, in the exact same spot, total strangers, and total idiots. As the sun sank lower and lower behind the horizon, the bay air took on an icy edge. The coast always keeps a bit of a chill to it, and bay waters tend to be cold regardless of the time of year. Colder meant a bit more comfortable for me, but she wasn’t havin’ it...

It’s cold and only have tee, she said, probably, turning to look up at me, clutching her tee shirt and shivering.

...didn’t know I be here in night.

Ya, me too. I mean, I didn’t think we’d be here this long either.

...

...I’d give you my jacket if I had one, though! I said.

...

...

Several more minutes passed. There was no point standing out in the cold any longer... No one was coming.

...We should probably go try to find a phone, I said, in the form of a question, in hopes of getting a second opinion on what to do or where to go from here.

...

...You don't understand ‘anything’ I’m saying, do you?

...

...How is it that you can’t understand me, but I get the general idea of everything you’re throwing my way?

...

...Maybe I’m just not good at charades!

...

...Maybe you’re more articulate.

Either way, we can’t wait any longer, I thought... Go inside, find a phone, maybe a radio... I’m sure there has to be some kind of-- that’s when we saw it... It broke through the cloud cover like a whale breaching the water’s surface. Before I even had time to contemplate what I was looking at, though, the thing shot down and slammed right into the city, leaving a perfectly straight and vertical trail of smoke in its wake.

The tremendous impact was followed by a tremendous, intense, piercing white light, so bright that it was blinding, even with your eyes closed. A few seconds later, still covering my eyes, blocking the flash with an open hand, an enormous and brutal burst of air pressure sent me reeling backwards right off the end of the pier.

Chapter 8: Doctor Indifference

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 50,000 ft.)

Chatter rolled through the aisles as folks who two minutes ago were deep asleep, started powering on their devices.

Were you able to get a signal, sir? said an almost attractive, forty something blonde flight attendant, completely invading the space of the guy next to me to deluminate my call button.

No, haven’t tried. Actually thought that was a joke, I said, causing the man to chuckle ever so slightly.

The man, now leaning way over towards me to give the flight attendant plenty of room, was in his late twenties, clean shaven, broad shoulders, looked like a doctor, maybe one just out of medical school!

...Right? I said, looking in his direction.

50,000 feet up, 2,000 miles from the nearest cell tower or repeater... Did they ‘really’ think anyone would be able to get ‘any’ type of signal?

The guy didn’t answer, though. He was already back deep in the throes of his oversized novel, too much so to be bothered with trivial conversation from the likes of me. Funny how, above all else, we humans must avoid contact with other humans at all costs... Don’t want some stranger, shoulder to shoulder with you on the subway, talking up a storm... a quick flip of the hoodie and some earbuds and you’re good to go! Don’t want the guy in the middle seat asking stupid questions.... ‘Sorry, bud... reading’!

Sir? Ms. Almost Attractive repeated.

Ya, sorry, no... no signal, but I do happen to be an A&P licensed, FAA certified aviation engineer, I said, loudly. Partially to get over the now steadily growing passenger commotion, mostly to interrupt Mr. Congeniality’s reading again.

...If there’s a problem... I continued.

What’s your name, Sir? she asked, because, well, that little insignificant tidbit of information is the most needed and most relevant tidbit in this situation!

Livingston... Jason. I work for Boeing out of San Antonio Kelly Annex, I leaned forward now, yelling, pulling my wallet and ID badge from my back pocket.

Chapter 9: Runa!!

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Pier 33, Island Ferry Terminal)

Cold and suddenly submerged, the next thing I knew, the girl, who’d fared far better than me, was swimming frantically, dragging my ass through the water like a drowned elephant. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. Since I had been standing in front of her, the brunt of the impact knocked the wind out of me. All I could hear was a high-pitched ringing, and her mouthing words of panic! Suddenly, I felt land underneath my feet as I grasped onto the shallow rocks at the shore’s edge.

Runa! she exclaimed, while pushing me up the sharp boulders.

...RUNA!!!

Chapter 10: The Survivor

Brian O’Connell (Bourbon Sports Bar, Las Vegas, Nevada)

...0-5 losing streak. We’re looking to turn that around this weekend with Yankee Stadium home court advantage! a reporter announced, over the wall-mounted 200-inch flatscreen.

Sitting in a pub, minding my own business, drinking sick amounts of beer... Bourbon’s Sports Bar promised a great nightlife: New York style pizza, live bands, delicious thirst- quenching tapped beer and the biggest screens in Vegas. Normally, they didn’t disappoint.

...more and more people getting sick in what is now quickly becoming a public health concern as Newark, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, Denver, and Dallas, are added to last week’s quadcopter drone crash list. Stay tuned as we bring you the latest in the mysterious sickness sweeping the nation... In other news--

Tonight was no different... The place was unusually full for the big game and the Las Vegas natives were understandably getting restless. I, myself, am not from Vegas (guess no one’s actually ‘from’ Vegas), but over the last couple months I’ve happily come to call the city home.

...Mets vs. the Cubs for another all-time showdown, will be the-- We interrupt this report to bring you breaking news...

Oh, come on!!!!

Chapter 11: Coms

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 50,000 ft.)

After squeezing past Patrick Drake, I followed the attendant up the main aisle as she made regular reassuring stops along the way. The mood had turned from humorous to curious to concerned as the nearest looky-lu shot piercing glances in our direction. After knocking softly, the cockpit door opened briskly, and I was introduced to the two pilots.

Thanks for coming, Mr. Livingston, Mr. Rogers-- Chris, the co-pilot, said.

So, what’s the problem? I asked.

No ‘problem’, per se, he replied.

...at least nothing we can put a finger on from here. Everything suddenly just went quiet.

We called to check in, but nothing, no response, Peter, the Captain, said.

From?

From? From the airport, from anyone, Mr. Livingston, Peter continued.

From anyone? You can’t get ahold of no one, anywhere? I asked.

No one, Chris said.

Ok, so there’s a power outage. It happens, I said.

No, you’re not understanding, Mr. Livingston, there’s nothing out there... there’s nothing from control, no chatter from other planes, nothing whatsoever... All our systems are down... everything... everyone... everwhere!!

Chapter 12: The Beginning of The End

Inmate 2767 (State Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas)

There are a dozen reasons why a block gets locked down... fights, riots, contraband, plots, inspections. Shit, peeps be getting locked down just cause Pigs wanna take a nap n’shit!

We didn’t do anything to get locked down, you fuckers!!

This is different. This is something else, something, sinister... Something just ain’t right!

...I need a fuckin’ shower already, yo!

Chapter 13: Going Dark

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 50,000 ft.)

What do you mean ‘everything’s down’? What’s down? I asked Peter.

We don’t have messaging or datalink, voice, video, radar, craft-to-craft, nothing... Everything is completely out, he said, motioning towards the vertical situational displays.

Ok, but ‘everything’s’ not out... You have nose, tail and winglet cams, you have fuel level, pressure, altitude, I said, referring to the two active head-up display, the aux and outboard displays and the large forward display screens in front of me.

...If ‘everything’ were out, we wouldn’t still be in the air. Every component on this craft is connected and operated via 5G... It’s all wireless! If ‘everything’ were down, 5g would be down and we’d be going down too!

Well, I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s not right! Chris confessed.

Ok, let’s just go through the list, then, I said.

Actually, we were doing exactly that when you arrived, Peter replied.

No problem. Let’s do it again, just for the hell of it.

Ok, let’s go again, Chris! Peter said, turning around.

Sooo, transponder? Secondary radar? I said, pen at the ready to jot down the statuses on the back of my 4x9 ticket.

...

Transponder, yes, radar, no, Chris replied.

Ok. Um, position then...you got GPS?

No.

ADS-B?

No.

Ground proximity?

Yes.

Mhmm, ok. Altitude?

...

Shit... Peter blurted out.

...We have altitude, but no direction or range... We’re completely blind!

Fuck me, Chris added.

Ya, that’s because that’s all satellite, though, I say, writing it down.

...but you obviously have cell controls.

Yes.

What else... Do you have T lift/descent?

We don’t have thrust controls. Passenger jets operate on KEMs, Peter said.

Same thing, I replied.

...Lift/descent... You ‘should’ have it.

Mmmm, yes!

So that’s good. We can land then, I said.

...have you tried radio?

...

No one replied, which caused me to look up from my make-shift notepad.

Radio...really? Peter said alarmed.

Yes, radio. A lot of aircrafts still use it.

There’d be too much interference, Mr. Livingston!

Rise to 70,000 and try the narrow bands. They won’t be as saturated at that altitude, I said.

You’re serious!

Look, you’re currently 50,000 feet above the earth without a connection or direction, nothing but ocean below, several thousand miles still from our destination, and you don’t want to at least give radio a shot?

...

...

Ok, adjust altitude to 70,000, Chris.

Aye, adjusting altitude to 70,000!

...

...55.

...

...60.

...

...65.

...

...70,000 feet.

...

...

...Nothing on VHF!

Try HF! I said.

...

...

Transmitting... buut, not receiving anything.

Ok, that answers that, I replied.

...

...try TCAS.

TCAS? Peter said.

Ya, why? I asked.

There isn’t any TCAS anymore, Mr. Livingston. That’s a really outdated tech. No birds after 600 series have TCAS, Peter replied.

There’s still TCAS in all aircrafts, I said.

...It’s just not a stand-alone system anymore. It’s tied directly into craft to craft.

...

Both just flashed blind looks at each other.

...The winglets contain TCAS transponders, which are still tied into ship’s com and warning systems. Type /ADS-B-menu in and it ‘should’ bring up a command list.

Give it a go, Peter instructed Chris.

Roger!

...

Oook, looks like we have ADS-B In and Out--. Well, we have it but not sure if it’s actually functioning, though.

Try it, let’s see, I said.

Ok... A...D--, Chris typed as the list began running bottom to top over the CDU.

Select diagnostics... select ‘run’ diagnostics, I continued. Prompts popped up.

We’re transmitting, Chris said.

Ya, except I don’t think we really are, though, I said.

Chapter 14: The Calm Before the Storm

Inmate 2767 (State Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas)

Been calm all night... Ain’t no racks gettin’ tossed, ain’t no alarms goin’ off, ain’t no one poppin’ off... Somethin’ def’s goin’ on... Somethin’s goin’ down!

Chapter 15: Home Away From Home

Brian O’Connell (Bourbon Sports Bar, Las Vegas, Nevada)

...now bringing you coverage of a live feed captured just moments ago...

I’d hightailed it from L.A. to Vegas two months prior, (four hours after being served divorce papers), to burn through as much of our joint savings as possible before being caught. It wasn’t the divorce that sent me over the edge, though. Four days before, I’d caught her in bed with, of all people, her douchebag ex-husband. They’d come back to the house after church... probably the only reason born-again-bitch Sally started going again, anyway! That’s when I decided she wasn’t getting a single penny of ‘my’ money!

...weather camera atop a marina in Stony Point, New York...

And I’d done pretty good, too! Or pretty bad, depending on how you looked at it...Managed to lose over 80% of our hard-earned retirement funds before she noticed and withdrew the rest. Been laid up with a ‘different girl every night at the motel’ ever since, spending as much as I could ‘fueling up on cocaine and whisky.’

Had two grand on tonight’s game alone, and now this!

Chapter 16: What’s Going On?

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 70,000 ft.)

Care to fill us in, Mr. Livingston? Peter said, noticibly concerned.

Well, yeah, it seems ‘everything’ is, in fact, completely down.

Really? That’s what you got? That’s exactly what we said! Peter said, obviously agitated.

Well, not ‘everything’ everything, I countered.

...But ya, for the most part... ‘everything’.

How is that even possible? Chris asked.

Ok, so all your systems that rely on internal components are functioning perfectly. But everything external, with the exception of TCAS, is not, I continued.

You said 5g couldn’t be completely down.

Right. So nowadays everything runs off independent 5g networks, right? I said, not really expecting a response.

...Your house has its network, your office has another... the grocery store, the mall, stoplights, your car... The aircraft’s engines, controls, systems and components run off the aircraft’s 5g network. We know this, and it’s still very much functioning the way it was intended to. In other words, the aircraft’s fine... ‘we’re’ good, Everyone else, on the other hand, not so much!

We’re ‘good’, Mr. Livingston? We can’t communicate with ground to ask what’s wrong with our systems, because there’s something wrong with our systems, and we can’t communicate with ground! I think we’re far from good, Peter said, if not a little overdramatically, completely accurately.

Like I said, nothing’s wrong with our systems... we can receive and send, and actually are sending via craft to craft and the responder. But no one out there’s sending anything back!

...

...

...I would actually suggest turning the responder and craft to craft off at this point, though. I continued, as an afterthought.

No one’s out there? Peter asks.

What do you mean? Chris added, not quite absorbing my suggestion.

No one, nothing.

...at least not at the moment, I replied.

...

...Ok, like, for example, every on-board signal sending system... I said, looking over the list.

...Transponder, MDL, ground proximity, cell control, flight cams, K lift/descent, of course, internal communications, lighting, temperature, pressure, they’re all up and running.

...

...You both with me?

Ya, Peter replied, impatiently.

Ok... every aircraft component that relies on ‘external’ signal or data to function, however, be it ground or satellite isn’t receiving anything and, therefore, isn’t functioning.

...Radar, GPS...

"...Datalink...

...ADS-B...

...Altitude, Direction...

...Angle...

...Even radio waves are quiet, which is the weirdest part. And I’d be willing to put money on the fact that even if we descend back to 50,000 feet, or even lower, there’d still be no one talking! No commercial shipping, no military, no public... no broadcasts of any kind being sent out over any airwaves... nothing. It’s like everyone suddenly, without warning, up and disappeared! That, or they’re just not responding.

Chapter 17: New York City

Brian O’Connell (Bourbon Sports Bar, Las Vegas, Nevada)

...a suburb of New York City, first aired by affiliate news WIRP 7, showing an extremely large explosion that has occurred up the Hudson River there.........one moment please--

...

...

...My Gods!

...

...We're seeing now what can only be described as an enormous mushroom cloud, rising above the New York skyline.........it’s, it’s--

The entire place was eerily quiet.

...

...Ladies and gentlemen, this.........this is unbelievable but, it seems, it seems a nuclear device has just detonated on the outskirts of New York City!!

...

...

Fuck.

Chapter 18: Have a Scratch Off!

Russ Wilson (Pilot Gas Station, Hwy 60)

The cute young clerk behind the counter saw it, the people behind me in line saw it, the people outside saw it. I, however, did not see it, but the look on her and everyone else’s face and the way the room slowly got really bright, was enough to get my attention. I followed their frozen gazes out the large tinted front windows, and saw, well, absolutely nothing. Whatever it was, was gone now.

As I turned back, I noticed her outstretched arm still with an offering of $1.47 in change. The distant, perplexed, glazed over expression on her face said it all, and yet, it still wasn’t until sounds of the far-off explosion finally reached the convenience store that things started actually sinking in.

Just then everything went dark. I heard my money being messily dropped, one coin at a time, onto the hard plastic counter, and as I leaned over to scrape it up, every window in the place blew in.

Chapter 19: Shelter

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Grounds Maintenance Room)

What does a concussion feel like... any idea? I asked, holding my, for sure, concussed head.

We’d taken refuge inside what looked to be a now defunct (or just extremely grungy) maintenance locker room on the lowest level... made a makeshift nuclear bomb shelter by stacking metal lockers and chairs on top and around a metal table in the corner of the room.

Mass critical! the Asian exclaimed, maybe, probably, directing me to pile on more lockers.

No windows, no exterior walls, feet and feet of concrete and a 3-inch-thick metal door...

...It not lead, but it do! she said.

How do you know all this? I asked, throwing some more shit on the pile.

...

She didn’t answer. Just kept piling on stuff. To be honest, though, if anyone knew, it was her kind! Probably a little racist, but still, they probably learned that stuff in depth in school growing up...

Teacher: These motherfuckers dropped atomic bombs on our cities... ‘twice’! ‘Never forget’, children. ‘Never forget’!

Or is that Japan? Still. And the world thinks 9/11 was ‘the most cowardly act in history’!

Time under the table seemed to stand still. I nodded off a couple times, each time waking to the Asian violently shaking me. Each time the throbbing pain in my head returning. And every time I clutched my concussion, she’d yank my hand away to inspect the now enlarging knot.

Is it still there? I asked.

...

...My head... is it still there?

...

...Not funny?

...

...Or ‘very’ funny to someone who could actually understand A WORD I’M FREAKIN’ SAYING!!

Just then, my head ‘really’ did begin feeling like it was leaving my shoulders. Like a balloon, detached from its string, flying up, up and away.

...Sorry. I didn’t mean to--

And I’m out.

Chapter 20: Here There Be Dragons!

Jason Livingston (Continental Flight 192, 70,000 ft.)

So, what, you’re just reconfirming what we said, then? Peter asked, completely ignoring the possibly bigger, scarier, implication.

I mean, they’re obviously there, everyone’s still there. I’m saying, everyone’s just, well, off... away, I answered, skeptically.

Off? You mean, the entire country’s without power? Peter asked.

Could be as simple as the grid going down... could be that something’s just interfering, but ya, no power, powered down, whatever you want to call it. That would mean, though, that the backup generators for the airports and air control centers for this region weren’t working either, and all Sat Navs were down too, and the three aren’t connected, which makes me lean more toward something interfering, I said.

...

You mentioned TCAS.What about it? Chris asked after several moments of silence.

TCAS is the only anomaly, I said.

...TCAS ‘is’, in fact, actually picking up signals... from several aircrafts, in fact, which would indicate at least one satellite ‘is’ still transmitting. But I don’t believe this is actually true, and ‘that’ concerns, well, honestly, scares me.

Why’s that Mr. Livingston?

Whatever’s interfering, IF something is, in fact, interfering, it would affect everything equally...not ‘most’ or ‘some’ satellites... All satellites!

No?

One satellite, a lone survivor, a single satellite when every other satellite is down? I don't buy it.

So, one’s transmitting or none’s transmitting. Why is that concerning, though? Peter asked.

Because I think it’s more sinister than that... I think it’s much more likely that TCAS, like you said, ‘has’ been completely removed, or rather bypassed on this aircraft’s model. Probably some time ago in some maintenance mode or retrofit somewhere, and now also just runs on an internal 5g like everything else.

So, we don’t use TCAS.

You do... you still have the program, the system, but, like the rest, the receivers may actually also be an ‘internal only’ system now. Which would rule out the lone SAT survivor theory.

I'm kinda following, but kinda not, Peter admitted.

Ok, I believe the TCAS winglet receivers/transmitters themselves may have been replaced in an upgrade with short range wifi antennas. This would convert TCAS from an external system... getting its data from constant satellite transmissions, to just another internal 5g system, that’s now directly interactive with other aircrafts.

...

...The TCAS program is still there, doing its job...receiving data, it’s just receiving it from a different location than I thought... a different source. At least, that’s what I think now. Can’t really confirm it, though, without pulling the winglets off and taking a look.

Ya, let’s not do that, Peter said.

This type of mod is something that’s being done in newer jets, but I haven’t seen it in retrofits. Like you said, though, it ‘is’ an outdated system!

Ok, so why is all of that scary, though? I’m still not getting it, Peter asked.

TCAS, similar to craft to craft, acts like an early warning proximity alert system, I said.

...

...Different from ‘swarm systems’ like craft to craft, that only operate in close proximity, though, TCAS sends and receives from up to three miles away!

...

Still not following you, Mr. Livingston.

Well, I really don’t think there would be any other passenger plane, and especially not several, so close, making the jump across the pond at this hour.

Probably not, Peter relented.

And assuming TCAS ‘has’ actually been upgraded and no longer relies on satellite, and assuming it’s not entirely malfunctioning...

...

...

...TCAS is saying there ‘are’ aircrafts in close proximity... a lot of aircrafts... all around us!

...

...

Chapter 21: Mushroom Clouds and Moonlit Nights

Russ Wilson (Pilot Gas Station, Hwy 60)

"A blast of fiery air propelled me (and my buck fifty) over the counter right into the clerk’s lap, sending both of us crashing to the floor and shelves of cartoned cigarettes and scratch lottery tickets toppling down on top of us.

After several moments of sitting there in bewilderment, the two of us worked our way free of the debris. I brushed myself off and followed several others out to what used to be the front of the building. As I stood shoulder to shoulder with the hot clerk looking out towards the darkened parking lot in awe and disbelief, they finally appeared... one large, one small... dark brown, dusty, dirty, little mushroom clouds rising way off in the distance, surprisingly slowly, silhouetted by the not as dark, moonlit night sky.

...

I killed someone a few days ago, I said to the clerk, enjoying the view.

...

...Thought you should know.

...

Chapter 22: One Hundred