Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey Read Online Free Page A

showing forty-nine
seconds. Uncle Andy has his coffee, Max has a deer bone that he dug up from somewhere
and I’ve . . .
    “Eric . . . shut up. You’re starting to get on my nerves
talking into that little gadget all the time.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I would imagine that most dinosaurs were
afraid of fire when it was first invented also. Don’t worry . . . fire . . . .
our . . . friend.” I know you can’t see this since I’m only recording audio,
but Uncle Andy just shot me the “You mess with the bull, you get the horns”
look. Eight seconds, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and . . . and . .
. and . . . nothing.
    “Well, that about figures,” said Uncle Andy.
    “What do you suppose is going on?  I mean, there’s gotta be millions
of people getting the same blue screen and nothing else, assuming their Internet
is in the same shape as ours,” I said.
    “Yeah, I’d bet my ass that there’s a lot of people who are
panicking right now. If you think about it like this, most people in the United
States, well . . . the world really, are totally dependent on access to information
24/7. You take that away and they’re going to be like a bunch of rats in a big
round room, all jumping over each other and looking for a way out that isn’t
there,” Uncle Andy said. “I’d even venture a guess that . . .”
    “Hey, the screen is changing,” I said.
    OK, I’m gonna continue recording this and tell you what I’m
seeing. The blue screen with the countdown timer has now been replaced with a
shot of what I guess is the Oval Office. I don’t see anybody on the screen but
I can see shadows moving like they’re just off camera. OK, here comes some guy
in a suit, not the president though. He’s saying something; I can see his lips
moving, but there’s no sound.
    “Hey old man, you got the speakers turned on?” I said.
    “Of course I do you moron,” Uncle Andy said. “If I didn’t
that little green light wouldn’t be on.”
    I looked but didn’t see any lights on the speakers. “What
little green light?” I said.
    “That one right th—oh fartbag. This is what happens when I
don’t get enough coffee,” Uncle Andy said as he turned a knob on the speaker
that brought the little green light in question to life as well as giving audio
to the speaker on the screen.
    “ . . . . are awaiting the arrival of the president, who
should be here momentarily. Again, if you’re just tuning in to television or Internet,
the president, using provision 891 of the Patriot Act has declared a national
emergency and has temporarily granted control of Internet traffic, radio and television
signals, and overseas communications to the National Security Agency. Let me
reassure you that civilian access to all normal media outlets will be restored
shortly. I can see the president approaching now. Ladies and gentlemen of the
press, please hold all questions until after the president has spoken . . .”
    “Look at that guy,” said Uncle Andy. “He looks more nervous
than a balloon salesman at a porcupine convention.”
    “Who is he, the press secretary or something?” I said.
    “Well, look at Eric with the big brain. I’m guessing that one
of your weekly bimbos left your house this morning,” I cracked a grin as he assumed
a Sherlock Holmes pose, faked holding a pipe, and blew imaginary smoke rings. “I
further deduce that your ‘ Miss right now’ has the cranial capacity of
the average guinea pig and was no doubt stumped by the Wheel of Fortune puzzle
with only one letter missing. And I conclude that since Jeopardy is on right
after Wheel of Fortune, and no doubt both of you were somewhat occupied at that
time, the answer to ‘Presidential appointments for 500 Alex’ somehow sunk into your brain through the alcohol and perfume laced fog that you
spent the rest of the night in.”
    “Very close,” I said. “The only part you missed was that it
wasn’t last night, it was the night before. Besides, Max likes