vrijdag 6 oktober 2017

This is a public warning from Stansberry Research, one of America’s largest independent publishing companies.

Imagine it's 11:23 AM.
You're typing an email at your desk when your cellphone starts buzzing in a strange pattern you've never heard before.
Long buzz, short buzz.
Long buzz, followed by a few more very short buzzes.
Then it stops.
Curious, you pick it up.
You have 2 new text messages from a number you don't recognize.
But you do recognize the area code: 202.
Washington, D.C.?
Definitely not the friend you were supposed to meet for lunch.
You click on the first text message, and written in all-caps you read:
There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as the alerts flood in.
FEMA Text AlertConfused, you pull up the news on your computer.
You gasp as the main headline appears, written in all red:
MissIles hit American soil. Pentagon warNs more could be on the way. Americans ordered to "shelter in place."
A familiar feeling starts to set in.
It's the same way you felt when you first heard that a plane flew straight into the World Trade Center.
Unmistakable dread, deep in the pit of your stomach.
It's 9/11 all over again, you tell yourself.
Your next thought is your family: Your wife… your kids, and the rest of your family.
God, I hope they're all safe, you think…
You start to call home when you feel a cold hand fall on your shoulder.
It's your business partner.
You turn, noticing all the color gone from his face.
"We need to stay where we are."
A round of missiles just hit the coast. And more are already confirmed to be coming within the next 30 minutes.
It's got to be North Korea… or Syria, right?
God help us.
"Look," he says, pointing to your window.
You look outside.
Traffic is at a dead stop. People are running, screaming, staring at their phones.
You hear sirens—at least a dozen, maybe more…
And in the distance, you see several lines of smoke.
You tell your boss:
"I need to get in touch with my family. I've got to make sure they're OK."
You pick up your cellphone.
But when you press "Dial" the call doesn't go through.

No signal.

You pick up your desk phone. But all you hear is a busy signal.
You slam the phone down.
Your boss chimes in:
"I bet the phone lines already overloaded and crashed. I'm sure everyone's fine."
But the knot in your stomach isn't so sure.
Something just doesn't feel right.
Even on 9/11 you didn't feel this worried… this confused… this… helpless.
Your stomach begins to growl, reminding you of the lunch you were supposed to be enjoying with an old friend right now.
You start to wonder:
How long will we need to remain here? Is it better to stay inside or try my luck out there?
Overhead, you hear a row of screaming fighter jets.
The framed picture of your family, taken during last summer's vacation, rattles on the edge of your windowsill.
You don't know what to think.
All you know is you're sitting there, alone.
And worried. For your wife. Your kids and grandkids. And for yourself.