The Aftermath Read online

  3

  ALL OF THIS BROUGHT to light another mounting dilemma: countless thousands of planes were still airborne with no place to land. With so many plane crashes already reported—both in the air and on the ground—most airports were forced to shut down.

  Some pilots, while taxiing to and from their gates, suddenly vanished, causing their planes to collide into other aircraft. Some exploded on impact. Other pilot-less planes smashed through terminal windows, killing some inside who were still awaiting their flights.

  It was pure chaos on the runways, tarmacs, and inside most terminals. Millions of now-stranded travelers witnessed it all and were stunned into utter silence.

  They would remain stranded for many days to come.

  Tens of thousands of still-airborne pilots nervously monitored fuel gauges. With fuel tanks dangerously low, they were desperate to find places to land. The more they circled the skies the more panicked they became. If they didn’t land soon, the end result would be another layer of death added to the already grotesquely death-ridden landscape below.

  Many Christian groups either en route to or returning home from the Holy Land Israel—to various cities abroad—lost most on board passengers. Some pilots and flight attendants on these now near-empty flights also vanished. Those still on-board were shaken to the core.

  Adding to the confusion was that most airborne pilots were unsuccessful in communicating with air traffic controllers on the ground. Their constant pleas for assistance fell on deaf ears. Many of these pilots, their nerves completely shredded, had resorted to alcohol and prescription drugs to help calm them down. Nothing worked.

  Air Traffic Controllers who were still somewhat functional were mindful that aircraft that hadn’t already dropped out of the sky would soon do so, if they couldn’t find places to land.

  Airborne pilots who’d grown weary of circling airports, who didn’t have enough fuel to make it to other airstrips, frantically searched the landscape below looking for straight stretches of road large enough to land commercial-size aircraft. But most city highways were jammed with motor vehicles.

  The tension kept mounting. The entire aviation industry was in a total state of chaos.

  BUT THIS TRAGEDY STRETCHED even high above Planet Earth. American astronaut Vanessa Underwood was up in space when she vanished inside her spacecraft.

  In the blink of an eye, the three-man/one-woman crew in outer space was reduced to three. The remaining three astronauts were totally traumatized by Underwood’s sudden disappearance. Her space suit was there, but her body was nowhere to be found.

  Ironically, she was reading her Bible at the time. Her distraught colleagues frantically tried contacting NASA mission control for assistance, for answers, but to no avail.

  Normally, when it came to technical difficulties at NASA, the problem originated up in space, not back on Earth. But everything appeared to be in perfect working order on the orbiter.

  This terrified the three now-stranded astronauts even more. They would remain in a state of total disbelief and panic, each minute passing like an hour—until they heard from someone back in Houston, Texas.

  Once NASA officials became aware of Underwood’s disappearance, a whole new myriad of questions would surface. Namely, what kind of force was powerful enough to vaporize those not only on Earth, but also in outer space?

  For now, no one knew. But one thing was certain: whatever it was, no one was immune to it—not even NASA officials and astronauts.

  Russia was faced with the same predicament. Three of their cosmonauts were up in space when the Great Disappearing Act took place.

  Consequently, there was also a small group of wealthy travelers vacationing up in space, mostly Americans. They were visiting the International Space Station when it happened. There were no disappearances among them.

  After losing all communication with controllers back on Planet Earth, all now-stranded space travelers knew something strangely peculiar had transpired on the planet they’d vacated a few short days ago. They just didn’t know what it was.

  Though only 250 miles above Planet Earth, they suddenly and helplessly felt millions of miles away. Once communication was restored to the orbiters and everyone on board became aware of what had happened, part of them would never want to go back home.

  4

  TWENTY MINUTES AFTER LIFTING off from Camp David, the pilot of Marine One had the White House in view. They were less than a minute from landing.

  The secret service did an excellent job evacuating the First Family from the President’s retreat. They trained for this sort of thing each week—sort of—performing intense practice drills in case an emergency ever arose.

  This was their big chance to put all that practice into motion. Though they wouldn’t receive bonuses for their bravery, at least the First Family was safely back in D.C. That’s all that mattered.

  It didn’t take long to see that Washington D.C. was in a total state of disarray. Even from way up in the air, the leader of the free world saw the massive gridlock down below. Traffic was at a complete standstill for miles on end. Plumes of smoke rose up in all directions. It was eerie.

  As devastating as it looked outside the chopper window, it wasn’t much better on board Marine One. Chaos, mixed with an equal amount of hysteria, was so palpable that it nearly pressed through the windows of the Presidential chopper.

  Jefferson’s mother-in-law kept mumbling, “Not my grandbabies, not my grandbabies,” over and over again.

  The First Lady was the worst of them all. She kept crying and screaming hysterically, trying to unfasten her seat belt to jump out of Marine One.

  Her son, William, and son-in-law, Dr. Benjamin Richardson, had to restrain her. Dr. Richardson already gave her a strong sedative. He would fully sedate her back at the White House.

  Everyone else sat quietly. Besides the sniffling sounds that accompanied weeping, they were silent. The First Lady was making enough noise for everyone.

  The President stared out the window trying to collect his thoughts. He felt incredibly vulnerable; alone. Now more than ever, the eyes of the world would monitor his every move.

  While his predecessors had dealt with many crises during their tenure as President, none had ever experienced anything of this magnitude. Jefferson Danforth wished he wasn’t the President of the United States.

  America was in a full-blown state of emergency. As far as anyone could tell, what happened wasn’t an attack on the United States. Nor was it what the secret service called an “AOP” situation, meaning an attack on a Principal—their Principal.

  President Danforth didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. At least not when it came to a sniper’s bullet or from a foreign country or terrorist. Convinced that the President of the United States (POTUS) was safe and relatively secure, those hired to protect him felt no need for him to go into hiding. He needed to remain at the White House where he was desperately needed.

  Marine One touched down on the White House South Lawn, shaking tree limbs and scattering newly-fallen leaves in all directions. Those on the ground shielded their faces to avoid swallowing dirt or having it get in their eyes.

  Only a fraction of the White House Press Corps was assembled on the White House South Lawn awaiting his arrival. They weren’t as pit-viperish as usual. Instead, they looked like scared little children who were starved for guidance, for protection. They wanted to hear the most powerful man on Earth tell them everything would eventually be okay.

  But President Danforth was incapable of providing any sort of comfort to anyone right now. It was too soon for that.

  The First Family exited Marine One and were whisked inside the White House. Melissa’s hair was unkempt from being pulled so much in agony.

  For s
ecurity purposes, the President was taken straight to the Situation Room without taking a single question from the press. He had more pressing issues to deal with.

  Vice President Everett Ashford was never more grateful to see his boss standing before him. Immediately after the disappearances, secret service agents stormed the VP Mansion and hurried him off to the White House, where he was placed in charge of the nation until his boss arrived from Camp David.

  As far as Vice President Ashford was concerned, it was 30 minutes too long. He was relieved to no longer be in charge.

  For the time being, only a skeleton of the President’s administration accompanied the two American leaders. Among them were the Directors of the FBI, CIA and NSA. Many who’d planned to be away until after Thanksgiving needed to return to Washington immediately.

  That is, if they even survived the catastrophe.

  Only four of the six members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—the highest-ranking members of each military branch—were in the Situation Room. Among them were the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the vice chairman, the chief of staff of the Army, and the chief of staff of the Air Force.

  The other two Joint Chiefs—the chief of Naval Operations and the commandant of the Marine Corps—were still unaccounted for. It was already feared both men had vanished.

  Normally with two of America’s top military minds gone in an instant, the story would grip the nation. But today they were just two more souls to be counted.

  President Danforth couldn’t ignore the stark terror he saw in the eyes of everyone standing before him. The more important the person in front of him was, the more frightened they looked.

  As their Commander-in-Chief, what could he possibly say or do to assuage their grief and fear when he needed the very same thing himself?

  One of the first orders given, at the behest of his National Security Adviser, Nelson Casanieves, was to put the military’s white-top helicopters into service, to locate Washington’s highest-ranking officials and bring them back to Washington immediately.

  Pilots were ordered to land on their front lawns if necessary—anything—just find them!

  Those picked up by military choppers were dropped either at the White House, Capitol Hill, the Pentagon, FBI Headquarters, CIA Headquarters, the Department of Homeland Security, the Defense Department, the Justice Department, or the National Security Agency, depending on who they were.

  With the Emergency Broadcast System still functional on some levels, the Commander-in-Chief ordered all military, law enforcement, first responders and government officials to be placed on full alert. They needed to safeguard America’s key locations to the best of their ability, not only coast-to-coast, but internationally as well.

  But with communications limited at best, there was only so much they could do. How could anyone, including the President of the United States of America, members of his administration, or the U.S. military prepare for a silent, invisible evacuation?

  Would there be similar recurrences in the coming days or weeks? No one knew for sure one way or the other. All they knew was that they needed to prepare for anything at this point.

  Surely it was going to be a long night…

  5

  BUT THE STRANGEST AND most terrifying news being reported had to do with all young children. Early reports were suggesting that every young child on the planet up to a certain age was gone.

  It wasn’t official yet, but there weren’t any small children sightings anywhere. Kids’ clothing practically blanketed the planet. Adding insult to devastating loss, in some areas, much like kindling in a fireplace, kids’ clothing helped feed some of the out-of-control fires.

  But nowhere was there a child to be found.

  One story that would soon dominate every news station—along with the Griffin brothers from Ohio State—was in Washington, DC, where more than 20,000 spectators, mostly children, were enjoying a Disney on Ice presentation.

  They were having the time of their young lives when every child seven years of age and younger suddenly vanished into thin air, along with a percentage of adults and teenagers.

  It went from 20,000 spectators to maybe 4,000 just like that. Popcorn, ice cream, soft drinks and Disney souvenirs littered the seats and aisle-ways of the arena, staining kids’ clothing, as it lay on now unoccupied seats and on the ground. It was all captured on film.

  Regardless of country, wherever large groups of children were gathered, mass disappearances were being reported.

  Since it was the weekend, numerous kids’ activities were taking place in every major city in North, Central and South America—from northern Canada to the southern tip of Chile—and in much of western Europe and Africa. Due to warmer temperatures, most outdoor theme parks throughout the southern part of the United States were open year-round.

  All across Florida (especially Orlando), California, Arizona, and Texas, large numbers of disappearances were being reported at all theme parks, including all small children.

  In some cases, power was lost, causing computers to crash, leaving riders who hadn’t vanished stranded on rides. Some dangled upside down on various thrill-rides, screaming in terror, after realizing others had apparently disappeared.

  They would remain stranded until someone finally came to their senses and rescued them. But most theme park employees were paralyzed into inaction. What could they possibly do? This wasn’t a crisis for which they were trained.

  In the Middle East, much of Africa, all of Asia and Australia, it was late evening or early morning when the disappearances took place. Many parents were sleeping and were totally unaware that their children were gone. Because it was a silent evacuation, even many who were awake when it happened were completely unaware at first. Some were working. Others were out on dates. Most were at home watching television, chatting online or doing some late-night reading.

  Many who were sleeping were awakened by barking dogs and sirens, due to the many fires and accidents that followed. Checking on their little angels only empty beds were found.

  Their children were gone.

  Wailing and lamenting ensued worldwide. They called authorities for assistance, but phone lines were dead, adding another level of dread to the already hopeless situation.

  As a whole, teenagers were the most freaked out by the Phenomenon. How could people suddenly vanish without a trace? Were their younger brothers and sisters still alive someplace? Or did they simply cease to exist? If they were still alive, were they in a good place or bad?

  Growing up in a society where television, cell phones and computers ruled their lives, in many cases, the only true friends that teenagers had were virtual ones. With no way of contacting them, they now had another major inner void to cope with.

  Thanks in great part to unloving, or at the very least, irresponsible parents, few teenagers of this generation knew who God was, let alone what His purpose was for their lives.

  With the suicide rate among teenagers already higher than all other demographics, how much higher would it soar now? Time would tell...

  Every piece of body-less clothing was ordered sealed off to the public. With this being the only link to identifying those officially among the missing, and their whereabouts at the time of the disappearances, clothing wasn’t to be moved or touched.

  Few listened to the command. There was too much money at stake to obey orders. A whole new opportunity existed, and criminals were having a field day with it.

  Countless knife and gun-wielding thieves rummaged through clothing once worn by those who vanished, and from those who were now dead.

  Without the slightest struggle, these reprehensible thugs took everything they could get their filthy hands on—money, wallets, jewelry, watches, credit cards, cell phones, laptops, tabl
ets, i-Pods. If they liked the clothing, they took it, too.

  With casualties and disappearances so widespread, law enforcement officials had their hands full like never before. Outnumbered by at least ten thousand to one, how could they possibly succeed with the task at hand? The answer was glaringly obvious: they couldn’t.

  With countless billions of dollars littering the streets of the world just waiting to be collected, smart thieves refrained from stealing cars, burglarizing homes and looting stores. This was so much easier. And guns and knives weren’t needed, except, of course, for fending off the competition. If they had to use weapons on other thieves to achieve their goal, so be it.

  The really-smart thieves stayed away from kids’ clothing altogether, but not out of respect for the departed. What child carried a wallet? What child wore jewelry? With that justification, smart thieves knew scouring through kids’ clothing would be a total waste of time, really.

  Scores of policemen and women everywhere did their best to restore order, but to no avail. Greatly outnumbered, many were paralyzed into inaction.

  Some criminals were apprehended. And a few were shot and killed for their crimes. But with only a limited number of law enforcement officials still around, most were rendered powerless from stopping much of what they were forced to witness.

  Some police officers even joined in the mass pillaging. “Why should the bad people get all the money?”, they figured, “That wasn’t fair, was it? If you can’t beat ’em, why not join ’em?”

  Millions of surveillance, traffic and news cameras, along with the thousands of satellites up in space recorded the numerous atrocities following the Phenomenon.

  Once things calmed down, if it ever calmed down, cameras would have footage—raw as it was—of some of Planet Earth’s most ruthless perpetrators committing their dastardly deeds.