Homefront: The Voice of Freedom (7 page)

At 12:30
A.M
. Mountain Standard Time, the Senior Analyst on duty, Captain Jeffrey Peterson, was keeping an eye on the Korean satellite designated as “K101.” Ever since it had positioned itself over the United States earlier in the day, he had submitted the appropriate reports to the Pentagon and his superiors. No one seemed to pay any attention. The satellite had passed over North America numerous times since the Koreans launched it in 2023. Everyone knew its purpose was to revamp the failing global GPS system. It was working, too. The past six months had shown significant improvement in international GPS mapping. It was believed the Koreans, for once, were actually doing the world a favor.

Nevertheless, Captain Peterson was concerned because the satellite hadn’t moved in three hours. It remained in a stationary position, directly three hundred miles above Lebanon, Kansas, near the intersection of AA Road and K-191—said to be the exact center of the contiguous United States. Normally the satellite was always on the move.

Sergeant Melissa Davies turned away from her monitors, since nothing was going on there, and
asked her boss, “Jeff, is that satellite still giving you the heebie-jeebies?”

Peterson slapped the counter and took a swig of his rapidly cooling coffee. “I can’t understand why it’s just
sitting
there. Has it malfunctioned?”

Davies got up, stood behind Peterson, and looked over his shoulder. “And it’s been there for how long?”

“Going on four hours.”

“And you’ve contacted the Pentagon? And the commander?”

“I got hold of the deputy commander. He said not to worry about it.”

“No response from the Pentagon?”

“It’s the middle of the night there. You know it’s a skeleton crew until morning.”

Suddenly, every monitor in the command center went blank. The other thirteen analysts simultaneously vocalized surprise.

“What just happened?” Peterson asked. He started fiddling with controls. “We’re offline.” He stood and called out to the others. “Is anyone online?”

Negative.

He picked up the dedicated hotline and made a call.

   In the silent halls of the Pentagon, the men and women working the graveyard shift were just as panic-stricken. Every computer in the building had abruptly shut down. After a moment’s hesitation, the staff scrambled to find out what went wrong.

The same thing happened at the White House. As inter-governmental communication failed, personnel relayed messages within the building by intercom and phone. The Chief of Staff was awoken and briefed. He personally strode to the president’s living quarters to rouse him.

At the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the FBI experienced a lesser, but just as devastating computer breakdown. They lost connections to world databases and comlinks to U.S. civilian law enforcement agencies.

The digitally mechanized NSA was powerless. Before the full seriousness of the attack was known, a security agent commented wryly as he picked up the phone, “I have to dial the chief. How quaint.”

The CIA’s vast computerized network, including their remaining active stations in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, were cut off.

Phones rang all over Washington, waking the Cabinet and key members of Congress. The government could not communicate with the branches of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, or National Guard. The various agencies could not converse with each other except by telephone.

Besides the inability to liaison, issue commands, and act on them, the military had no way to launch defense missiles.

Many computer networks associated with the FAA ceased to function. Control towers at airports all over the nation lost the ability to track commercial planes already in the air. Pilots could still speak to each other and to air traffic controllers, but ground radar was kaput. In short, they were flying without a net. At first the problem didn’t seem to be
too
serious. In the middle of the night there was little air traffic; pilots could usually navigate aircrafts manually and land without the benefit of a controller’s instructions. They all thought—
surely the glitch will be fixed shortly
.

By midnight, Pacific Standard Time, the realization set in that America’s military and governmental computer systems had been hit by an unknown, seriously destructive cyber attack.

Perhaps it was best that the public at large had no idea what had occurred. The only computers affected were non-civilian. The average person was unaware that the country had been rendered defenseless in a matter of minutes, setting the stage for the
coup de grâce
.

JANUARY 16, 2025

12:05
A.M
., PST.

After his conversation with Salmusa, Kim Jong-un, the Brilliant Comrade and leader of the Greater Korean Republic, sat in his private office. Lost in thought, he studied a map of the United States that hung over the planning table. A bull’s-eye was marked on the strategic point in Kansas, above which the satellite the Americans called “K101” hovered.

What he was about to do would change the world.

For 250 years, the United States of America had dominated the globe. She had managed to thwart mighty Britain until the United Kingdom was a mere shadow of her former self. America defeated Germany twice, even pushing back the powerful Nazis and destroying Hitler’s plans of world conquest. The North American country even stomped on Imperial Japan, reducing that proud nation to rubble until the Land of the Rising Sun became a subservient pawn in U.S. superiority.

Kim’s father, the honorable Kim Jong-il, stood up to America time and time again. He was forced to withstand inequitable sanctions and criticisms from the international community due to lies and accusations regarding North Korea’s nuclear programs. As
a result, South Korea prospered while North Korea languished in poverty and pedestrian technology.

But now everything had changed. Ever since the favored son ascended to replace his late father to be the leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-un succeeded in turning the country’s fortunes around. By reuniting with the South, he strengthened the land’s financial pockets and military muscle. He conquered Korea’s longtime enemy, Japan. He annexed other Asian countries to create the Greater Korean Republic. Kim Jong-un brought
respect
to what was once referred to as “North Korea.”

Slowly but surely, chinks were made in the once potent American armor. The sworn enemy of Kim’s nation was no longer a giant that policed the world. She was weak and vulnerable. Kim once heard a Western Biblical story concerning a boy named David and a giant named Goliath. The Hebrew boy was no match for this vicious and powerful adversary. But David surprised everyone by defeating the giant with a single slingshot. A tiny weapon against a strong warrior.

The analogy could be applied to Korea and the United States.

When Korea captured Japan’s Aerospace Exploration Agency and took possession of the M-V rocket, Kim Jong-un saw that his dream to defeat America could become a reality. What the world didn’t know was North Korea
did
have nuclear capabilities back when he allowed the United Nations into the country for inspection. They were simply well-hidden. By seizing the missing materials in Japan needed to build a nuclear weapon, the task was completed.

The satellite launched into orbit in 2023 carried a ten-megaton thermonuclear device. When detonated
three-hundred miles above America, as it currently was positioned, the blast would blanket the entire country in an electromagnetic pulse—an EMP. Nearly every electronic device with an integrated circuit of any kind would immediately fail.

Phase Three.

Kim Jong-un knew fully well what the consequences of the act would be. The international community would condemn Korea. European allies would rush to America’s aid, but given the current economic conditions all over the world—except in Korea—it might takes months or even years before help arrived. By then, it would be too late.

Korean warships were already crossing the Pacific on their way to Hawaii, set to arrive in forty-eight hours. Then, using Hawaii as a staging point, the world’s largest Special Forces contingent would land a mix of troops on the West Coast shores of the United States. Airborne paratroopers would be dropped farther inland. The takeover of key targets of value—military bases, civic centers, and natural resources such as the oil shale in Colorado, which the U.S. lacked the technology to extract—would swiftly fall into Korean hands. Noncritical areas would be left to survive or fall on their own, assuming the people didn’t try to retaliate or defend areas of Korean interest.

Kim’s analysts assured him the American government would be helpless. After the initial transit attacks to demonstrate to the population how susceptible it was, and the cyber strike to convince the government and military that they, too, were defenseless, the EMP would catapult the country’s level of technology back to the 1800s.

Kim Jong-un was well aware what this would mean.

A new world order, with Korea calling the shots.

He picked up the phone and gave the order to commence Phase Three.

   12:30
A.M
., PST.

Walker had fallen asleep on the couch. Jack Daniels had done its work, knocking him into a state of oblivion during the evening hours after the mass transit attacks. He was watching the news on television and eventually couldn’t keep his eyes open.

A loud, rumbling noise shook him to his senses.

At first he was disoriented—and still drunk—when he opened his eyes.

The house was pitch dark. No lights anywhere.

He had felt something
odd
. As if a wave of vibration had passed over him. Was that what woke him up?

The flat screen television was off. He didn’t remember switching it off, but perhaps he had.

The sound was growing louder. It was above him, in the sky. Something was coming closer. In his hazy state, Walker thought it might be an airplane.

An airplane?

He sat up too swiftly, causing his head to spin. Groaning, he put his face in his hands and rubbed. Sitting there quietly for a moment, he took some deep breaths until he was able to stand.

Walker turned toward the kitchen to see what time it was. The digital clock on the counter was unlit.

He glanced at his computer. It, too, was off. He never shut it down. The computer went into sleep mode after a period of disuse, but an indicator light always told him it was still on.

Oh, shit. Power outage
.

He hated it when that happened. Damned Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. For the past several years, there had been numerous power
outages. Usually they got it fixed in a few hours, but it was always a big hassle.

The noise in the sky was growing louder. Closer.

Oh yeah. The airplane
.

Walker shook his head and stumbled to the glass door leading to the deck.

Wait a second
.

The entire city was dark. No lights anywhere.

Even during power outages, there were always parts of the metropolis that weren’t affected.

This must be one hell of an outage
!

The noise above him rapidly intensified.

What the hell
is
that?

Walker leaned over the deck rail backward to look at the sky, past the eve of his roof.

Nothing.

Just a booming, soaring
whoosh
that sounded as if it was headed straight for him.

And then it appeared over the house.

A commercial airplane—no lights, no power—just zooming through the air.

Toward the city.

Oh … my … God …

It was as if time suddenly stood still. Walker couldn’t move. He watched in horror as the dark, winged shape wavered unsteadily, clearing the hills and plummeting toward Hollywood like a gigantic paper airplane sailing to the ground in slow motion.

Walker felt his stomach lurch. A shiver went up his spine as he gripped the deck rail. He couldn’t take his eyes off the phantom bird as it shrank away from him and the low rumbling noise diminished. The sight was surreal—only the light of the moon reflected off the plane’s wings, highlighting it against the black city beneath.

A few more seconds …

Walker lost view of the plane. He held his breath.

A fireball of immense magnitude erupted on the streets below, followed by the horrible roar of death and destruction. The explosion lit up the sky, momentarily providing Walker with the vista of a Hollywood without electricity.

My God … My God …

What the hell just happened?

Leaning over the rail, he saw the Gomezes also in their front yard, watching the spectacle.

“Are you guys all right?” he called.

Rudy Gomez waved. “Yeah. What’s happened? What’s going on?” he shouted.

“I don’t know!”

No one moved.

They stood and watched as the flames spread and formed into a massive inferno. The noise of the crash died down, leaving the night’s eerie silence.

Wait a second, where are the sirens?

Wouldn’t there be police cars, ambulances, fire trucks? Even during an outage, cars could be seen on the streets and freeways.

From his deck, Walker could see a small section of the Hollywood Freeway. The I-101 was full of cars, all right, but they weren’t moving. No headlights were on.

He quickly rushed into the house, nearly tripped over the chair in front of his computer desk, and went to the kitchen. The outside blaze illuminated the room well enough for him to see what he was doing. He rummaged through a drawer and found the pair of binoculars he knew he had. Returning to the deck, he put them to his eyes and studied the small visible strip of the I-101.

Sure enough, cars were stalled on the road. Owners were standing beside their vehicles. Some held cellphones but were shaking their heads, the body language
indicating there was no service. There appeared to be many collisions, too, as if the drivers had suddenly lost the ability to control their cars until they slammed into ones in front. Bumper Cars at an amusement park after the ride was shut down.