Jacqueline Druga

DUST

For caring, sharing and showing so much interest. For also being a tremendous sense of support. With all my love, I dedicate this story to my son, Drew.

Like the tides roll in, the sun rises, without a doubt, we will all turn to dust.

Introduction

It all turned to dust. Without a second to comprehend the reality of it, the world exploded. Earth and all its inhabitants did not literally evaporate from existence, but the way of life for mankind did. How long ago it occurred will forever be a question impossible to answer. Because no matter how much time passes, it will always seem like it transpired yesterday. When it happened is not important. It just… happened.

It happened.

In my own right, I was a complete contradiction. Of all the people I knew, I was the most prepared, but the least ready. Some would say that I had been laying the preparation groundwork for over twenty years. I made it my obsession. Gaining all the knowledge I could, then trying to impress others with it—in the eyes of my peers—made me some sort of apocalyptic genius. It wasn’t that I had achieved a level of superior intellect when it came to surviving; it was that I practiced what I preached. I put things into motion even if it was just as a precautionary measure. I carefully laid out detailed plans for my friends that reiterated what everyone would do, where they would go, and what course of action would be taken following a nuclear strike or any type of apocalyptic threat. We would be the new civilization. Many times I was labeled completely insane. However, my core friends always labeled me, ‘the place to go’. I was Joanna Reed-Collins, the woman who had all the means to survive. Rations, water, stockpiled necessities, and a corner-made bomb shelter were all right there in the basement of her home. I knew they saw me as a safe haven. I was coroneted some sort of ‘Post-War Moses’ who would lead them from the ashes when it all turned to dust.

It did.

Seventeen months prior, Israel made a bold offensive move and crossed their borders in an act of war. Nothing new. The Mid East was always a ‘hot’ spot for conflict. This chimed my attention bell, but didn’t send warning flags hailing. Even in retrospect, the Israel initiative wasn’t enough. But that was the last ‘big’ thing to have happened. There was no global confrontation. No clash of super powers. No declaration of World War Three. Nothing. It was the ultimate metaphor of the parental excuse, ‘Because I said so’. No rhyme or reason. It just… happened.

1. The First Day

Simon Reed was a little old man trapped in a toddler body. The extremely short three-year old, with a paper-thin frame, had enough energy at times to power a city. His mischievous smile was wider than his face, and his wiry blonde hair always stood on end. There was something about my nephew Simon that reached inside of me. He had this keen ability whenever I looked at him, to grab hold of my soul and make me scream from inside, ‘God, I love this kid’.

Babysitting Simon was not something I did often, nor for any extended period of time. But he was with me that day. A Tuesday in May, my windows were open and the warm, bright sun called for Simon to go outside. Aside from the fact that it was still early, the ground was muddy from a weeklong battle with thunderstorms. Simon was housebound.

He hit me a million times with that purple dinosaur he always carried with him. His way to get my attention, and to get me back in the living room to watch the movie he loved so much. A movie I instantly replayed as soon as it ended. From my experience with my own two children, I learned a child’s favorite movie was the parent’s great escape. That day was no exception.

Around ten in the morning, the phone began to ring, and it didn’t stop. One call after another in an annoying fashion made for continuous noise. Stopping just before the machine would pick up, then ring again. Answering the phone was not an option, for I was in the middle of an impending victory. Simon was halfway up the staircase in his first venture to the bathroom alone.

“Almost there, Simon.” I stood at the bottom of the steps.

Dinosaur dangling in his hand, Simon turned to look at me. “Ten more steps, Aunt Jo?”

“No, only six. You can do it. Go on. I’m right here.” Breathing out, I turned my head to the right and caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. I looked absolutely haggard. My shoulder length dark-blonde hair was straggly and messy. The slight coat of make-up on my thin face, completely wiped out. Why did I even bother getting myself fixed up? The truth was, I had been Simonized in less than an hour. “Come on, you can do it,” I beckoned.

Another two steps and Simon stopped again. The barter in him took over. “Then can I go out and play?”

“If you go up there by yourself, yes. We’ll sit on the porch.”

“Okay.” Simon readied to step. “Five more, Aunt Jo?”

“Only three now. Go on.” My eyes shifted from watching Simon to the phone. It still rang. Perhaps it was my obsession in getting Simon up those stairs, but after several minutes of continuous ringing, it dawned on me that the call might be important. I ruled out the possibility that it was the grade school calling about my daughter Matty, after one attempt the school would have tried an alternative contact. Nor was it about my son, Davy. In typical fifteen year-old fashion he was home from school suffering from a case of fake-itis and was fast asleep on the couch. How he managed to slumber through Simon’s racket, I don’t know.

Finally, Simon made it to the top. He dropped his drawers as he turned the bend. Seeing that as my sign, I made my way to the phone. After glancing at the caller-box and recognizing the number as my friend, Mona’s, I lifted the receiver. “Hello.”

A rush of static rang out. I pulled the phone slightly from my ear. “Hello?”

“Jo.” Mona’s voice was barely coming through. Knowing she was in Tulsa on business was my immediate blame for the bad connection. “Jo—are—watch…”

Static.

“Mo? Mo, I can barely…”

“Jo.” Her words broke up like a bad transistor-radio broadcast. “Jo—watching—the news?”

“Am I watching the news? No.” I chuckled, “I’m stuck watching the annoying dinosaur.”

“Watch—the—news.” A few blurbs of words fizzed in and out.

“Mo? Hey, your cell is really bad.” I cringed at the sound that mimicked crinkling wrapping paper. “You want me to call you back?”

“Son—love—please. Please. Turn—the news. Oh, God.”

Static.

Instinctively I yanked the receiver away from my ear, and when I brought it back, the line was dead. “Mo?”

There was something eerie about the happy children’s song that played loudly in the living room, in the after-feel of that phone call. Hanging up the phone, I went immediately to the television and shut off the movie. I obviously performed some sort of dastardly deed, because Simon screamed upstairs. I heard him race down the steps.

Searching out a news channel was not a problem. One click of the remote brought me the sight of a news anchorman. The sound was bad, and the picture jumped and distorted as if I didn’t have cable. I crouched down to fix the set.

“Aunt Jo, my movie.” Simon tugged my arm.

“Just a second, Simon.” I changed the channel, the flipping picture did not improve, but the sound did.

“Aunt Jo.”

“What the hell is the matter with my TV?”

“On solid basis.” The news anchorman held his earpiece as he spoke barely looking at the camera. “OK. Yes. It is confirmed.”

“Aunt Jo, I wanna watch my movie now.”

“Just give me a minute. Then I’ll put it back on.”

“Via ground implantation, and three low flying aerial attacks…”

“Please, now, Aunt Jo?”

“Simon, let me…”

“Nine nuclear warheads exploded…”

My attention was no longer drawn from the television. It was caught. Right there, I lost my balance. “Oh, my God.”

“On American soil. Experts believe that…”

“Oh my God.” I pulled Simon to me, and turned up the television. “Davy, Davy, wake up. Wake up now.”

“Are not out of danger. You are urged, until this immediate threat has passed to stay indoors.”

Heart thumping from my chest, I hollered. “Davy, get up something is happening.”

Davy looked confused when he sprang up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Finally I stood with weakened legs. Simon argued with me, babbling something about the movie. I didn’t hear him. The blood rushed to my ears in the confusion of the moment. “America’s under attack, Dave.”

“Attack.” He stood. “What kind?”

“Nuclear. At least nine places were hit. They aren’t saying…”

There it was. Oddly enough the sound of it brought a silence to the room. A dead stop to us all. The single beep of the Emergency Broadcasting System.

Davy called my name with worry, “Mom?”

There was a rush-to-move that pumped through my blood. I nearly threw Simon at my son, “Take him to the basement. “ I barked out fast.

“What?” Davy hadn’t even time to comprehend he was holding Simon.

“Take him to the basement now. That’s our warning. Now, Davy.”

Davy hesitated. “But, Mom, what about the basement windows. That’s my job, I have to cover the…”

“Your job is Simon. Take him down. Get him situated and turn off the intake valve to the water and gas. Got it.”

“Yes, but…”

“Go!” My scream made him jolt. Davy headed in the direction of the kitchen where the basement door was located.

Davy looked back at me with a pleading glance. “Please, hurry, Mom,” he urged, then ran with Simon.

I needed to know they were safe and I needed to hear what was going on. The Emergency Broadcast system gave no time frame. Relying on my best knowledge, I had it figured that the shortest warning would give me seven minutes.

Seven minutes. Too much to do. Davy was in the basement and had accomplished at least the task of turning off the water intake valve. I heard the pipes squeak. The water and gas lines were part of a long list of duties I had dictated to be done prior to going into the shelter. A list of duties that would take no more than a few minutes to implement. I created that list, but in my heart and mind, I believed every preparatory action was made in vain. Never once believing the bombs would actually come. But they did and more were on the way. I had to get it together. I was failing. When did I forget it all? Suddenly I was an imbecile standing in my living room staring at the windows and doors, trying to remember if I leave them open or closed.

My thoughts weren’t just in that room, trying to determine what all I had to do. My thoughts went to Matty. My ten-year-old daughter who was four blocks away. I had two ‘rules of thumb’ that I urged upon everyone I knew. I beat it into their brains. Relentlessly, I informed them that should there be an attack, upon warning… take cover. Do not hesitate, do not wait, take cover. And the second rule; if you survived the attack, under no circumstance should you leave your shelter until radiation levels fall.

The rules were fine in theory, but in reality, they seemed shallow. I calculated how long it would take me to get to the school. At seven minutes, even five, I could make it. I could. My mind was made up.

“Matty,” her named seeped from my lips and determined, I pushed for the door.

Flash. White. Bright. Blinding.

My chest immediately filled with an ache and I swore at that moment, the body tremors I experienced would inhibit me from moving. But I did. The option to choose what to do was taken away. I no longer was in a race against the clock to get my daughter; I was in a race against the blast to get downstairs. Mustering up the thought, ‘My God this isn’t happening,’ I bolted toward the kitchen.

Six feet.

The small foyer that I always complained about become my ally, I hit the kitchen in three good steps. My foot slid on the linoleum as I made a quick, sharp turn to my left, grabbed the basement door and flung it open.

Five seconds, maybe less, then it began. A deep, resonating, ‘boom’ in the distance caused a ringing in my ears. The howling winds grew louder, closer, faster, approaching like a locomotive raging forth, and I leapt the remaining five stairs, landing on the concrete floor. What started out as a rattle, turned into a major quake. How I retained my ability to run is beyond me. I spotted the cold cellar in the deep corner of the basement. My goal. My salvation. The door was slightly ajar, and I grasped for it, opened it a little bit more then hurriedly slipped in.

Davy held Simon as they stood center of the small eight by eight room. I wasn’t inside that room a split second when I charged out, pointing, scolding, “In the corner!”

It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. I knew it. There was no way, in the shelter or not, we were guaranteed safe. A cheap mattress hung on the wooden door; I reached under, and secured the latch.

The noise level was deafening. Quaking mixed with a sense of crushing pressure, and the destructive winds seemed to scream demonically as they beat against our sanctuary.

Simon cried. I could see that on his face, but couldn’t hear a resemblance of sound come from him. Like a silent movie, his mouth moved, and the end of the world was the background music. They were against the far wall, and Davy clutched diligently to Simon.

Simon reached for me, and I caught a peep of Davy screaming my name. Arms extended to keep my balance, I glanced to the ceiling. Dirt immediately fell into my eyes and hit me at the same time a fear that everything above us would collapse. The ‘cushion’ mattress that was propped against the wall had fallen to the floor. Grabbing it, I slid it with me in my race to the far corner, dropped to the floor and brought it over us in a protective manner as I huddled with Davy and Simon. The weight of the mattress was more so on my back. I shook out of control, clinging to Davy and Simon with dear life, hovering them as if my thin body would be a great shield. Eyes closed tight, mind reciting prayers in supersonic speed; my soul beckoned an end to the madness.

Was it the house? The ground ripping apart? What caused that last noise, I do not know, but I’ll remember that sound forever. An earsplitting ‘crack’ triggered us all to scream. Then it was over.

Silence.

It lasted all of thirty seconds, but it was the longest thirty seconds of my entire life.

2. Below

A safety time frame exists from the initial explosion until the arrival of radiation. Many people aren’t even aware of this. Sure there is danger within the snow-like fallout, but the true invisible killer arrives around a half an hour later. It seeps through the air and through ultra violet lighting. So not only is blackening out the windows important, thickening them is crucial as well.

The clothes intended for donation to the thrift store were stacked in plastic bags on the basement floor. Davy and I used them to block out the windows; they fit nicely in the window well space. He held them. I secured them with tape. It was a task we took on immediately, one that was always incorporated into the plan. Six bags always remained in the basement. No less. Never was a bag removed unless another was there to replace it. As odd as it sounds, we were fortunate for a few things. Davy was able to shut down the water heater affording us extra water. A few of those thrift store bags contained ‘wearable’ clothes that would be useful later on, and I had just laundered the heavy blankets and bedding to store for the summer. They were folded on the table.

The basement was intact, and so was the cold cellar that would be our home continuously for at least a few days until the radiation dropped enough to venture into the actual basement. The basement would give us room to walk, move and not feel so cramped. Freedom to go topside or aboveground was hindered by my knowledge that radiation would drop to tolerable levels. The human body could only take and repair so much, stand only a limited amount of exposure. Two weeks was always the theoretical safety frame I had learned.

After finishing the basement windows, I examined the ceiling for structure problems. Not that I would know if there were any, but common sense told me since nothing looked as if it were crumbling, we were fine. What lay above our heads was not my concern at that time.

Davy had lit the emergency light. Small, round, battery operated. It was one of many I had purchased from a discount store. I never intended the life of those lights to last very long, one per day was what I figured.

They worked, that was a good sign. Something that always stuck in my head was the Electro-Magnetic-Pulse effect, or EMP. The theory that anything that was running when the bombs fell, would cease and never run again. So Davy had an idea, one he took upon himself to implement. About six months earlier, Davy had dug a small hole in the dirt floor of the cold cellar, and he buried our batteries. Sealed in plastic bags, he pulled out what was needed and covered the rest up with loose dirt.

I watched him put a battery in the back of an alarm clock. He showed it to Simon, “So we know what time it is.” He winked. “Hey, Mom, what time do you have?” he asked as he prepared to set the clock.

I glanced to my watch. “Shit.” I brought it to my ear. “It stopped.”

“It stopped?”

“Yeah, at Ten-fourteen.”

“Good thing we buried the batteries, huh?” He smiled.

“Good thing.”

“How long you think it’s been?”

“No more than twenty minutes.” I answered.

“Thanks.” As if he were showing a toy, Davy set that clock in front of Simon.

Simon.

He had finally calmed down, stopped crying and probably assumed it was some sort of game Davy was playing with him. Davy always teased Simon, and I guess in the three-year-old mind, this was just another one of Davy’s tricks to make him cry.

“Done.” Davy set the clock on a small box. “See, Simon, now we know the time.” Brushing off his hands, Davy stood up. “Mom, can we sit on the mattress?”

I only nodded.

Davy grabbed the mattress we had used for shielding us and laid it on the floor. “Is this OK here, or do you want me to put this somewhere?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’ll be fine.”

“Maybe me and Simon can organize in here. Something to do.” Davy said. “You wanna do that, Simon, huh? After we take a rest?”

Simon excited, nodded his head.

“We’ll help out Aunt Jo, that way it won’t be so dirty.”

“It’s dirty,” Simon said.

“Yeah.” Davy made a crinkled face. “Let’s take a rest first, OK?”

Taking Simon’s hand, Davy led him to the mattress. Both boys sat, and Simon seemed to mimic Davy, leaning against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles and closing his eyes, right after Davy did.

I sat across from them on an old folded winter coat. All I could do at that moment was watch them. They were perched upon one of three mattresses I went out and bought at a discount store. A two hundred dollar expense my husband Sam didn’t bat an eye at. Of course Sam didn’t say too much about what I bought, or did regarding our little survival world. He went along with it, no matter how outlandish or expensive. Labeling everything as something you never know if you would need.

Who would have thought the need would be there. I certainly didn’t, despite what I did. I peered around the small cold cellar. A dark, dingy room that I used mainly for storing my supplies. Sure, I said it would be the immediate protective shelter, but I never prepped it. My boxes of food, supplies, and water took up so much space we barely had room to sit. I hadn’t a true clue on what all I had. Davy’s post-rest reorganization plan would be a much needed activity. Not only to give us space, but to give us something to do. I had spent so much time planning, creating checklists, schedules, and charting what we would do in the days and weeks following the attack, I forgot to plan what we would do in the immediate. How crucial the ‘immediate’ was.

Time stood still. The shock of what happened left my body with a tremendous inability to move. My mind wouldn’t think. My body ached in the painful silence of the aftermath. The brass balls I displayed on my sleeve rolled off somewhere in the confusion of what happened. All that I expected myself to be, all that I projected, I wasn’t. Truth be known, even more than feeling scared, at that moment, I felt totally useless.

* * *

“Hold it steady,” I instructed Davy, who aimed the flashlight for my benefit.

“I am.”

“I know.” On my knees I fiddled with the yellow tin box I purchased from an auction at a really cheap price. A steal I bragged about. My affordable Geiger counter. But at that moment I wondered if I only paid for a box with some neat little gadgets. To my right was a brochure. I lifted it.

“Aunt Jo?” Simon called.

From the pages, I glanced to Simon who lay belly-down on the mattress. “Yes?”

“Can I have one more?”

“Um… sure.” I knew he was referring to the beef jerky. I had given him only one to hold him over while he colored.

“Should he have one more?” Davy asked.

“Yes, we have plenty. I’m positive of that. Why don’t you get it for him, please?”

“OK.” Davy took a step away.

“The light. The light. Don’t move the flashlight.” I snapped.

“Mom, I can’t go get Simon beef jerky and hold the flashlight on you.”

I grumbled softly. “You’re right.” I looked to Simon, “Simon, give us a few minutes. Finish coloring.”

“OK.” Simon returned to his book.

The battle with the Geiger counter was growing tiresome. I pulled and pulled the top. “Fuck. How do you get this thing open to put the batteries in?”

“Isn’t it in the manual?” Davy questioned.

“How to put the batteries inside is on page three. How to open it…” I grabbed the manual. “Is nowhere to be found.”

“Maybe you should have read the manual before.”

“I should have. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Christ, Davy, I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t think we needed to.” It was pointless to argue with Davy; my mind was on that box. Finally, I succeeded. “Ah. There.”

“Was all you needed to do was flip that latch?” Davy pointed.

The glance I gave said more than any words.

“Just asking.”

“Hold the light steady.” I grabbed the battery from the baggie.

“Will it work?” Davy asked.

“I hope.”

“We never tested it.”

“I know.”

“We should have tested it,” Davy said.

I looked up at him. He had to be kidding. “How were we supposed to test it, Davy? It measures radiation.”

Davy shrugged. “I don’t know. An X-Ray place or something. Because you know, what if it doesn’t work and it tells us the wrong thing.”

I closed the lid to the Geiger counter. “You know what? Forget it. We’ll do it later.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t need to measure right now.”

“How come? Don’t we want to know what the levels are?”

“They’re high.” I stood up.

“But what if…”

“Davy.” I barked. “It doesn’t make a difference what the levels are, we aren’t fuckin’ going out there anyhow.”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“I’m not…” I took a second to calm down. “I’m not yelling. I’m… “ I inched across the shelter. “Just getting a beef jerky for Simon.”

Even though he looked busy coloring, Simon was eavesdropping. He called out a, ‘Thank you.’

The flap to the box was open, and I reached in, pulling out a sandwich bag filled with small strips of beef jerky. I took one out, sealed the bag again and moved to Simon. “Here you go.”

Simon scooted to his knees. “Thank you, Aunt Jo.”

“You’re welcome, honey. But no more for a while.” I laid my hand on his head, fully intending to walk back over to that Geiger counter.

“We have to save some for Matty, huh, Aunt Jo?”

I froze. I literally froze while my insides felt like they dropped to the floor. A lump formed in my throat with a squeaked out a ‘yes’, then I just sat down, bringing my knees to my chest to hug in comfort.

After a moment, Davy made his way over, exhaled heavily and sat next to me.

Leaning just a tad, I placed my head against his arm. “Oh, Davy.”

“I’ve been… I haven’t wanted to ask.”

Nodding, I looked up and was startled, Simon was right there extending his beef jerky to me as if that were the reason for my being down. “No, thank you, Simon. You eat it.”

Then as he had done for the previous four hours, Simon imitated Davy. He let out a Simon size exhale and sat on my other side. I couldn’t help it, emotional or not, I smiled. I took a second to gather my thoughts. “OK. Here’s what I think.” I glanced at Davy, then at Simon. “We’re fine, right? The house is fine, at least partially. The school is four blocks away. It has to be at least in the same shape. Plus, they would have known about the attack before we did. We were watching a movie.”

Davy caught my thought process. “They would have moved the kids.”

“Exactly.”

“Will they keep them there? They won’t just send them out, will they?”

“God, I hope not.” I swallowed and thought again. “No. No,” I said with certainty. “No, they wouldn’t. I may have hated Mr. Shep as a principal, but he’s not a dumb man. He ran that grade school like a boot camp. And we know why.”

Davy nodded. “He was in the Army.”

“Exactly. He has to know. Those kids will go nowhere until he figures out what to do. And if God forbid, something has happened to him, well… Mrs. Donnor is there and she’s smart too. I’m confident.”

“Are you confident that Matty is all right?”

Before I answered, I asked for assurance from my heart. “Yes. Yes she is.”

“So what do we do? I can go get her. Let me go get her.”

“No, Davy I will. But, hating to do so, I’m gonna wait just a couple days. Just a couple. If I go out now, or even tomorrow, I may be out too long and end up sick. I won’t be any good if I’m sick. And I need you well too.”

“Plus, Matty knows, Mom. She knows to wait. We both did. You taught us.”

I reached out and put my hand on Davy’s head as my thank you, then I reached for Simon. “We’ll get her home.”

“What about Sam?” Davy asked. “You think…”

“Sam’s fine.” I chuckled and tried to make light. “Come on Davy. You think I’m getting off that easy. Nah, your stepfather is gonna be back too.”

Like before, like Davy, Simon had questioned. “What about Daddy?”

My brother. A barrage of guilt hit me at that very second because I hadn’t even thought of any of my other family members. “Simon.” His name was all I could speak. How is it possible to explain to a three-year-old that I didn’t know where his father was or even if he would return? Just when I was about to evade the question, Simon asked another.

“What about Mommy?” he asked. “Is she coming for me?”

“Simon…”

“I’m going home now, right?” he waited impatiently for an answer. “Huh, Aunt Jo?”

How to tell him? What to tell him? Davy had explained as best as he could to Simon why we were in the basement, but I don’t think Simon understood. So how was he to understand me telling him the uncertainty about his parents? I couldn’t tell him, ‘no’, and I couldn’t’ tell him ‘yes’. His big brown eyes peered up to me waiting to absorb the answer I would give him. Sorting through my loss at what to say, I chose honesty. “I don’t know, Simon. I just… don’t know.”

I pulled Simon close, and kissed him on the head. It may not have been an answer that would satisfy Simon and stop his questioning, but it was the best I could do. It was my ‘stock’ inner reply to everything. If asked about what happened, what became of my family, what we would do next, would everything be all right. I would answer the same. I just didn’t know.

3. Keeping Wits

Bright and warm were two words that could not be used to describe the shelter. It was anything but bright, and being warm was just a wish. Other than Davy’s clock, there was no way to differentiate day from night. The battery light died out after only nine hours, and because I designated one light per day, we resorted to candles. But there weren’t many of those either, and after Simon and Davy fell asleep, I spent my time in a darkness my eyes failed to adjust to.

I was grateful that the latch on the cold cellar door was placed so high; because a fear brewed in me that Simon would wander out. Maybe that played a factor in my not sleeping the first night. I juggled between fighting tiredness and catching my head when it bobbed for a ‘quick fix’ nap.

The next day would bring minor changes that would help some. I knew radiation would drop enough for us to venture into the basement for a span of time. Whether it be to walk, cook, use the bathroom, or just clean ourselves up. And we all needed to clean up. I promised the boys we would do so after one day. What I called the greatest invention of our time was a sanitizer that evaporated the more you rubbed it in. We must have used an entire bottle before we hit the twenty-four hour mark. Not that it mattered much. For some reason, the sanitizer was one of those items in which I purchased an obscene amount. Perhaps it was the niftiness of it, or the price, who knows. But we had plenty. So much so, our hands could be germ free for years to come.

How ridiculous. What in the world was I thinking when I shopped?

I guess I lost count. I lost count of everything I purchased. Doing an inventory was something I had every intention of getting to. Somehow, that never happened.

A few notebooks, and other items I deemed for ‘activities’ were in a box. Davy took a notebook then took it upon himself to do that inventory; suggesting rationing would be easier if we knew what we had. I agreed. After all that was the original concept. With a magic marker Davy put ‘Supplies’ on the cover of the green notebook. Nice and neat inside, he made spaces for each day to keep track of what was used. Columns were placed so he could list each item and the amount.

He was doing well, too. Medical supplies, other things were counted first then he headed on to the task of the food. Momentum was with Davy until he hit the split pea soup and saw I had 153 individual servings. He opted for finishing at a later time, explaining that 153 servings of split pea soup was just too ridiculous to rationalize and left him unable to comprehend enough to count.

Everything was ridiculous because it was new. Plain and simple. Like taking a group vacation. How awkward and irritating the first day or two was until everyone adjusted to being together. Then it became fun. Not that I expected the shelter to ever be fun, but I did expect it to get tolerable.

However we were still toggling with ridiculous.

It was time to pull out the radio and get it hooked up. One of the things I urged my close friends to get—aside from the super sale Geiger counter—was a radio. Other than myself, only two followed my suggestion. Craig and Burke. I figured after I powered up and listened for a signal, it would tell me if one of them were out there, powered-up and alive. If I heard nothing I would just surf the empty airwaves hoping to find a ripple of life out there.

But the radio had to work, and in order to do that, it had to be powered by a battery. That was a problem, because Davy was in charge of putting the car battery in storage and he just couldn’t remember where he put it.

Under the stairs? Behind the washer? Our basement was big, but not that big. Davy searched. And then he remembered.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I told him while standing back in the cold cellar, watching Davy uncover the earth on the opposite side of our shelter.

“You said to bury the batteries,” he defended.

“It’s a car battery, Davy. Not a triple ‘A’. Big difference.”

“It’s still a battery.”

I believe I growled in frustration at that moment.

“What?” he asked innocently. “I’m almost there.”

“Davy, you went way too fuckin overboard.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one who made 153 packs of split pea soup.”

“It was easy to dehydrate, Davy.”

“But it’s split pea soup.”

“Well… yeah. So…” I shrugged. “Deal with it. And if you say one more thing about it, that’s all you’ll eat.” Folding my arms, instead of aggravating myself anymore, I walked into the basement. There were other things to do, things to finish.

We had started building a wall. The first of at least four from what we figured. Maybe even more. Using anything we could find in the basement. Whether the wall is solid or just a curtain material, our intention was to divide the open basement into rooms or sections. Truth was, yes, we could go topside, or even into the house, but for a long while, longer than two weeks, we had to worry about accumulative radiation. For safety sake, any prolonged periods should be spent underground. So privacy was essential or would be as time moved on.

The big joke prior to the bombs was that everyone would show up at my house following an attack. I was the one with the supplies, and the obnoxious amount of rations. More than likely, their joking was the reason I stockpiled so much. Having enough just in case. I expected and still do expect some to show up, only because—despite all I tried to teach them—some were pretty clueless. Either that or they chose to just rely on me. What I didn’t expect was for it to be just me, Davy and Simon.

Simon was doing better than I anticipated. I believed his subconscious understanding of all that was going on supported him. He asked what he could do to help, and I gave little jobs like separating the brown food from the green food. Big bandages from little bandages. He was content with helping in any way that he could. How long, remained to be seen. For all of us it was a matter of playing the ‘wait and restless’ game, and if we were keeping score, in my opinion, Simon was winning by a long shot.

* * *

To complete his entire mission of aiding to power up the radio, Davy took a good three hours from search to finish. He unearthed the brand new Sears car battery and tried his best to clean it up. I ceased picking on Davy about it, for two reasons. One, it just wasn’t worth getting mad about. And two, how boring the day would have been if Davy found that battery right away.

Unlike the Geiger counter I had learned about the radio beforehand. How to hook it up, tune in, send out. We were ready. Only problem, no one was there. It was dead silence. Static. A few times we thought we caught a peep of words, but it was a wishful thinking imagination. Somehow I thought the airwaves would be buzzing, but they weren’t. A good portion of the day was spent listening, waiting hoping. We veered way off the original plan of turning the radio on for a few minutes every half an hour. But it was the first day we had communications up and running. We allotted some hopeful listening time. After reluctantly admitting defeat, we turned it off to reserve battery power.

We made it through another day. That was so important, I also believed the radio would play a huge part in getting us through many more. In which capacity, I didn’t know. Perhaps an eventual information source or something to look forward to.

Everything was one step at a time. Everything. Even facing the ‘tomorrow’ was taken one step at a time. I faced it with a certain amount of dread. And in the quiet of the shelter—Davy and Simon asleep—I wondered would the next day be different or would it be the same. A repeat of another day without knowing, another day without Matty, another day… without.

4. The List

Time is more than something that passes. It can be a gift, an enemy, but time is also an illusion. You see it as one thing, but it always is another. The peacefulness of a moment in time can mask the tragedy that builds behind the wall of the silence. Too much time on your hands is a killer, because it leaves you too much time to think.

I began to examine what ‘time’ meant to me, almost immediately in that shelter. H.G. Wells, and his often praised and sometimes mimicked novel, ‘The Time Machine’, drew forefront. Ironically, one of several novels I brought was that particular book. The story came to mind not because it gave an essence of the future, but because it made me wonder. What if I had a chance to go back? If I were allowed to tell myself one thing to help me prepare, what would it be? As odd as it sounded, I would forewarn myself about time.

Intelligently I gathered all the real ‘survival’ supplies. I did have that base covered. Although I was pretty certain, that as weeks and even months passed I would be kicking myself for forgetting some things. And yes, I packed books, notepads, pens, and so forth for activities, but I truly believe no amount of stored activities could pass the amount of time we had on our hands.

The first few days, by a long shot were the worst. Stuck somewhere between a stage of shock and fear, I was left with little ambition to do anything. Sure there were long-range things that could be put in motion, but if I did them too soon, then I’d have nothing left to do later on. It was a catch twenty-two situation.

Davy and Simon suffered less than I did in the ‘time’ department. Davy had completed the counting of rations early the third morning, and wanted to get on to menu planning. I gave him the go ahead. Of course he did tell me he was rationing the split pea soup sparingly. Explaining to me that he didn’t want us three to enjoy it all when a chance existed others would arrive. They, as Davy put it, deserved to be greeted with an abundance of a delicacy such as split pea soup.

How I envied Davy those first three days. His spirits were kept impeccably high, other than my griping, he had no complaints, and he kept busy. He was more grateful to be alive than despondent over what had occurred. So much was to be learned from Davy. Simon was a project Davy took under his wing and he used his three-year old cousin as a security blanket, a focus. The focus kept him sane, normal, despite the circumstances.

Drawing or sketching was something I contemplated doing. By no means was I a spectacular artist, but it was an occasional craft I was above average in performing. The artistic utensils were in the shelter—I thought to store them. However, art required some inspiration to create. Like Davy, I needed a focus. Then I found one.

I can’t take all the credit, because the idea was conceived while I eavesdropped on a Davy and Simon conversation. They said the word ‘list’ and it simply clicked in me.

My focus. My list.

Although Davy responded to my idea with a pacifying nod and, ‘ah, you do that, Mom’, I knew it was the thing to do. Never did I imagine how far that one, little focusing project would take me, or go.

No matter if it was considered slightly demented, or even morbid, I knew it wasn’t, because I knew the reasons for it. The list not only made me focus, it made me focus on what was most important in my life—the people I loved.

I started with an untouched notebook. A clean slate. Then, after seeking out a solitary corner, I pulled out another one of those emergency lights, and I began.

For years everyone in my close-knit group of friends always said, ‘We’re coming to your house, Jo, if it happens.’ I guess in the back of my mind I counted on that. I grew accustomed to the fact that somehow, we’d all be together if it ever happened. Burke’s cabin up north, which set on two acres of land, was our post-war home. We’d meet there or at my home. That was the plan. Either way, it never dawned on any of us, that perhaps one or more would not make it. Death became a realistic thought in the aftermath.

The notebook would forever be dedicated to my list and my list only. My children and blood family were excluded, because a part of me felt it not ‘right’ to add them. Aside from myself, there were eight people. Eight people who comprised the ‘I’ll be there’ group. Those individuals were my primary focus.

The intention of the notebook was simple. The first page would be my ‘track’ sheet. On that I would place their names and their discovered fate as well. On the sequential pages I would remember them as vividly as I could. Details of their lives, our relationship. I suppose it was my way of assuring, that if God forbid they were taken from us, they would never be forgotten. Giving immeasurable value to a cheap dollar notebook in the form of a memorial of immortality etched on its pages.

Allow me to explain why I chose to keep my family from gracing my notebook. Two words best described the objective of my list—life and death. Were my friends alive or had they been killed? It was something my mind didn’t wonder about when it came to my immediate family. Of them… I knew.

Simon and Davy were well and fine. There was no reason to include Matty. I was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that my daughter was alive. My heart screamed of her survival and ached with impatience to bring her home. That would be done soon enough. My mother’s inclusion would be preposterous since she left this earth to be with my father some years before, and that left my brother and his wife—Simon’s parents. Having known of their pre-bomb whereabouts, I was sadly confident of their destiny. They were starting their future, signing mortgage papers, twelve miles away, right smack center of… ground zero.

I could pray all I wanted for my brother’s return, but a part of me knew. I just knew.

What started out as a simple list, a list of names and memories, grew into more. Never would I have imagined that notebook would ultimately turn into a diary of destiny. A solace I would seek and find when needed, adding entries as time moved on.

How clean the opening page of the ‘I’ll be there’ notebook appeared. In my best printing, perpendicular to the blue margin line, I listed the names.

Sam Collins

Tammy Smithton

Mona Youlak

Rod Singer

Donald Burke

Hebba Burke

Craig Roman

Nicky Wocheskowski

They weren’t placed in any particular order of importance; I just jotted the names down as I thought of them. I even gave that exact disclaimer at the bottom of the first page—I guess more so for generations to come. I didn’t want them to think I liked one more than the other, because if I did place the names in a likeability order, surely Hebba would have been at the very bottom.

Who were these people?

When I first met Sam Collins, I teased him often about his name sounding like some exotic drink. He was young and immature; I was a few years older and thought I was mature. Davy was four at the time Sam first started coming around, and I was pregnant with Matty. It’s hard to pin point how long Sam and I were together, since we frequently separated. Never for long. The words ‘good guy’ and ‘Sam’ were often found in the same sentence. Everyone liked Sam. A little slow at times, but truly a ‘heart’ thinker. I put in the notebook that I was positive Sam was alive, because just like our history, we were never apart for long. I was certain the bombs caused no exception to that rule.

There wasn’t much to say about Tammy. In an essence she should have been included on the family side of the issue. We knew each other since childhood. A mother herself, Tammy projected a tough exterior, never had an easy life, and was one of those people I believed prayed for the end of the world so she could start over without debt. Truth be known, Tammy was a softy and scared a lot easier than she let on.

Mona. I honestly knew and believed as I wrote about her in the notebook, that if it wasn’t for her, we might have died. She forever will get credit for saving my life. We connected in a weird way, psychically. To me it made perfect sense and only went to figure, that she’d be the one to call me about the bombs, because Mona more than anyone, would know I was clueless and wouldn’t be watching TV. Of all the people she could have called, with insistence she called me. That alone says a lot about Mona.

Rod was a lot like Mona, but never gave himself any credit. Just like he proclaimed he’d never be a survivor. He stated he had no survivor skills and about the only thing he’d be perfect at doing, was keeping the bomb shelter clean. I hesitated a lot when I wrote about Rod in the notebook. Debating his fate like a see saw in my mind. I made no bones about the fact that I swore he and I were soul mates, and as I wrote about him, I searched my soul for clues. Where was Rod? My soul passed on answering.

Don Burke, or as we all just called him, ‘Burke’. A big and burly guy I had known for so long, I couldn’t remember a time in my life when he wasn’t there. A heart as big as his body, but he had a temper that killed any good decision-making he made. He blamed a lot of errors in his life on choices made in anger. If that was really the excuse, then Burke must have truly been in a fit of outrage when he made the judgment call on marrying Hebba.

Hebba. For a woman I thought very little of, she was the center of a lot of writing when it came to her in that notebook. ‘Loud mouth, foul, obnoxious, drunk’ is how I believe I started the ‘Hebba page’. Sober, Hebba was… OK. But put a drink in her hand and there wasn’t a person within ten feet of her that didn’t want to take her life. No exaggeration. I would be lying if I didn’t say when I wrote about her in that notebook, I actually contemplated whether or not I wanted her to be alive.

The final two were Craig and Nicky, a couple who at the time of the bombs stood a slim chance of being anywhere near each other. These two were complete opposites. Nicky, she was a decade older than Craig in years. But in appearances and attitude, Craig had her beat by a long shot. I don’t know how ‘Sweet Nicky’ put up with Craig. If it were possible for him to be anything more than serious, I would have to say anal. Craig was anal. It was his ‘anal’ quality that assured me that of everyone on my list; Craig stood the highest chance of being alive.

End of the list.

End of the day.

Writing in the notebook withered away the hours, and I finished just as the battery operated light died out. Composing served its purpose. It focused me enough to lift my spirits a tad and make me think clearer. Approaching the third night in the dark shelter seemed more tolerable. All of us were definitely more at ease, and the initiative to light my homemade ‘sterno stove’ finally fell upon me. Using an old tin peculator, I brewed two cups of coffee while dinner cooked. We wound down the evening with a story read by Davy, and our bellies were filled with the first hot meal we had in days—split pea soup.

5. A Signal

The alarm clock chimed at 10:15 AM. It wasn’t a wake-up call, it was a form of knowledge. Days and nights held no distinction, and the alarm was a signal to Davy that another full day had passed. He marked the calendar with an ‘X’. We were beginning day four. Exactly seventy-two hours had passed since the bombs.

The Geiger counter was a bust. If indeed it did work, it was hard to tell in the basement, and I had yet to gain the courage to venture outside and do a reading. A part of me kept on hoping that soon enough I would hear trucks roll down the street. The Military maybe, blaring out through megaphones that, ‘Help is on the way’. That somehow it wasn’t a global conflict, and nuclear war hadn’t wiped out civilization. The news said, ‘nine bombs’. What if only ten or eleven bombs exploded? Then that meant a major part of the country would still be intact. They would unify, aid, and rescue.

It was possible.

Not probable.

The problem was we were in the dark all the way around.

As an amusement mechanism, Davy and Simon began holding their urine. Causing themselves discomfort to the point that they’d wiggle and dance about in order not to let loose. The constant verbal exchange of, ‘I got to go. No hold it’, escalated to ‘don’t make me laugh, I’ll pee my pants’. Self torture all for the heightened moment, when the two of them stood above the open drain pipe seeing who could better aim their power stream. I guessed the game would be the first of many ‘off-centered’ things they’d find fun and exciting while in the shelter.

It wasn’t long after the late morning water battle between the boys, when it happened. Where some people would label them ‘idiot lapses’, I called them my ‘blonde moments’. Episodes that happened rarely, but when they did, they were doozies.

How many times had Simon asked me for a can of soda? Too many to count. I turned him down every time, increasingly adding annoyance to my voice over his persistence to have a cola that didn’t exist.

I was messing around with the Geiger counter when Simon asked me again.

“Can I, Aunt Jo?”

“No, Simon.”

“I’ll share with Davy.”

“Simon…” I huffed out, my eyes still locked on the Geiger counter gauge. “No.”

He said, “Fine.” He breathed on me in a frustrated way and stormed off.

I shook my head at him until I heard it.

‘Snap’. Fizz.

I peered up. Simon was drinking from a can of soda. “Oh, my God.” I jumped up. “Simon, where did you get that?”

The brown substance dripped from his mouth and chin, and in the midst of a loud burp far too huge to come from his small body, Simon pointed… to the basement refrigerator.

Was I stupid? Blind? How did I miss the hulking, ancient white box? How did I forget about it? It wasn’t like I never used it. I did. It was my refrigerator storage space for items that didn’t fit in my kitchen fridge. Such as the soda Simon consumed.

As if it were Christmas, I raced with enthusiasm to the refrigerator and flung it open. I suppose Simon was lost as to why I shrieked. To him, the contents of the fridge were nothing new. To me, I felt as if I found a buried treasure. No less than a case of orange soda was in there, eight cans of cola, some beer, and other food items. Of course, some of the things, if not most, would not be viable. What was still good, had to be eaten right away.

I grabbed the bag of carrots. My fullest intent was to peel them, and have them as a snack. I allotted a cup of water for washing, and then I took them aside and began to prepare them. Although washing and peeling was unnecessary, it gave me something to do.

More than likely I looked insane to the boys. After all, I was elated with joy over the discovery of soda and carrots. Amused was an understatement; I couldn’t stop laughing at my stupidity with the fridge.

Little did I know, my ‘fridge blonde’ moment was not the last for the day. The afternoon could have been called the ‘Simon Shines’ hour. Because if it wasn’t for Simon, not only wouldn’t we have carrots, we wouldn’t have heard it at all.

I almost cut my finger when I heard the static of the radio. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Simon. His tiny body squatted by the radio, hand reaching for it.

“Simon, don’t touch that.”

“I want to talk to the man.”

“That’s not a man, Simon, that’s a radio.”

Simon was insistent. “I want to talk to the man.”

I peered across the basement to Davy who was organizing the new fridge finds. “Davy, can you get Simon away from…”

Static.

“Cycle two. Hourly report. May 10th. Is anyone there? Over.”

The entire room spun around as if to zoom my focus on the radio. “Oh, shit.” My heart thumped and I lost my breath. “Craig.” I leapt forward, nearly losing my balance and flew to the radio.

Davy raced over and arrived at the same time as me. “Craig?” he asked.

“Craig.” I swept up the microphone, darted a kiss to Simon’s cheek, and pressed the button. “Craig. Craig. Come in. Craig. Oh my God.”

Silence.

A pause.

“Jo?”

Craig muttered something after the call of my name, what it was, I hadn’t a clue, because we all screamed at that moment. Even Simon, and he didn’t know why he was excited, he just was.

“Craig, oh, my God.”

“Jo, I thought something happened to you,” Craig said.

“I thought something happened to you, too.” I chuckled.

“Are you just getting your radio up?” Craig asked.

“No. We had it up since the day before yesterday. Where have you been?”

“Me? You? If you had the radio up, why didn’t you call out? Respond? Anything.”

“I did. I was gonna ask you the same thing. Craig, come on.” I sounded so teacher-like. “You know the routine. Call out every hour, but on the hour.”

“I have been, Jo.”

Sarcastically, I snickered. “Then you need to know how to tell time. It’s twenty after one.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.” I argued. “I know. Did your watch stop?”

“Yes, but you’re forgetting, I carry that wind-up in my emergency car pack. I wind it every day, Jo. It never stopped telling time. It’s One o’clock on the nose. Well, One minute after now.”

“Shit.” I had to laugh at myself. Really, I should have known. Why in the world would I argue with Craig? Of course him of all people would have the exact time. “Craig? Where are you?”

“I was on my way to work, when the warnings came. I pulled over immediately and ran into the first house I could. I’m in Belton.”

Belton was fourteen miles east of the city.

“Wait. Craig, was anyone home?”

“Bruce, the owner. How about you? Are you alone?”

“No, Davy and Simon are here.”

“Nicky… Nicky didn’t go there, did she? I know she doesn’t work far from you.” Craig asked.

“No. She didn’t come here.”

“Then I have to come back down that way. I took the car battery from my car, so it should run. I’ll give it a few more days. I want to see if the levels drop.”

“Craig, are you taking readings?”

“Twice a day.”

“How?” I questioned.

“I’ve been going out.”

“Craig, that’s dangerous.”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Craig said. “I waited until the second day because I knew I could head out. And I was only out there a minute or so.”

“What are the levels?”

“Thirty rads.”

“Shit. I wanted to try to go get Matty today. She was at school. I need to see if she’s fine.”

“It shouldn’t take you too long, right? If you promise yourself no more than an hour, you’ll be fine. Give it four more hours, until the sun’s not as strong.”

I nodded as if he could see me. “I’m gonna do that.”

“Let me know.” Craig said.

“Oh, I will.”

“Have you heard from anyone else? Anyone?”

“No one.” I answered sadly then hesitated. “Craig, do you know if it’s just us and a few cities or if it’s all over?”

“I wish I had that information,” Craig replied. “But…” Then he gave the stock statement that I, myself, had thought and said so much. “I just don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll find out. We’d better end this.”

“Yeah. I want to do my report, then I’ll turn off.”

“I’m glad you’re out there, Craig. Do your report.” A sense of relief befell me as I placed down the microphone. I pulled Davy and Simon closer to me, and we stared at the radio. Reaching to turn it off, I waited. Craig was speaking.

“Cycle three. Hourly report. This is Craig Roman in Belton, PA. Reporting to anyone who is listening.” Craig sounded different as he broadcast—like a changed man. He spoke clearly, concisely, and with little emotions. “Radiation levels are steady at thirty Roentgens per hour. Staying below is still advisable. It is May tenth. It is a little after one PM. Over.”

“At least…” I looked at the boys. “We’re not alone anymore.”

I turned off the radio.

6. The Black Blanket

A change was immediately made to the ‘I’ll be there’ list. I placed a circle around Craig’s name, and next to that, I wrote the letter ‘A’.

Alive.

For the next several hours, we turned on the radio a couple of minutes before Craig was due. Then sure enough, like clockwork, he came on and did the exact same thing. Repetitiveness for security, I suppose. Two call outs to anyone to respond. A thirty-second delay, then Craig simply gave his name, radiation levels, the date and the time.

Over.

That was enough.

I placed myself in the mindset of someone who had a radio, yet was unable to respond. How would I feel hearing Craig’s voice? Excited? Sad? Drowned in a reality nightmare that had no escape? I kept thinking Craig’s message served another purpose. His radio calls also sent signals to possible rescue crews. If there were a world intact outside of our hometown, then surely they knew after Craig’s call, that people were alive.

I daydreamed quite a bit about what awaited us when we rose from the ashes and the dust. Firemen and military personnel donned protective clothing. They planned a strategy for ‘rolling in’ as the American Red Cross called out over the nation in a desperate plea for blood and food.

‘Come to the aid of your countrymen! Ten cities are down but not out! We must save them. Life will prevail.”

That had to be what was going on. There had to be some news channel out their constantly covering what was happening in the cities that were hit. Rescue efforts. Speaking to experts about what we may be facing. Estimating the number of casualties, and urging fellow Americans to pray. Showing the president as he gave heart-wrenching speeches about courage and retaliation, all while every radio station remaining in America blasted hour after hour of patriotic tunes.

It happened before in our history. American Tragedies. American soil attacked. America… lives. So why not now?

Those were my thoughts.

And those were also my thoughts as I prepared to be my own rescue party and go after Matty.

Once again the thrift store donation bags served a big purpose. Rummaging through them, I sought clothing that I could layer upon me. An old pair of jeans, a little tight in the waist, were covered by two pairs of sweatpants. I wore three shirts as well. Sam’s old work boots were my footgear, and gardening gloves covered my hands. With the exception of my sunglasses and the scarf for my nose and mouth, I was ready to go.

Davy looked nervous. He really did. Holding Simon, I swore I could read his mind. He didn’t want me to go. For some reason my son felt he was the better one. Faster, as he put it. But my argument to that was my age. Resistance to radiation poisoning was stronger the older an individual was, and that was a medically proven fact.

I had befriended a doctor through my frequent visits to the coffee shop. A lovely woman named Toni. Often confused, always seeking someone to talk to, Toni enjoyed speaking about anything as long as it didn’t depend on her diagnosing some bizarre illness. She wasn’t much into the ‘apocalypse’ topic at first, but her attention piqued as time moved on. She transferred to Chicago about three months before the attack and we kept in continual contact. Before she left, she gave me a gift. Something she knew I had been looking for. Usually people exchange cards, pictures, anything personal. But Toni, she handed me life. Her words to me were, ‘I hope you never need to use this. But won’t it be neat to add to your survival collection?’

The gift—a potassium iodide equivalent. A medical agent used in combating the effects of radiation poisoning. One would have thought she handed me a million dollars when she gave me the twenty-four doses. To me, it was worth more. She instructed caution in taking too much, stating that a dose should be taken immediately after the attack--half a dose for children. Then another dose should be taken following exposure to radiation, or prior to. End of instructions.

All three of us had taken our dose with our first meal in the shelter and I had just taken my second dose in preparation to get Matty.

Sunglasses in hand, I had kissed the boys. I debated in my mind whether to give them the ‘If I don’t return’ speech, but opted against it. I was positive I would return and I would return in one hour. If I failed in getting Matty that try, I would venture out again.

Turning from the boys to the steps. I froze. We all heard it. A loud ‘bang’ rattled the ceiling as if something above us had fallen.

“Mom?” Davy whispered out.

My hand shot to Davy’s mouth covering it, and bodily I rushed into my son, gripping him and Simon then moving them away from the stairs and further into the basement.

Our eyes all looked to the ceiling and at the shuffling noise. I released Davy and edged my way silently to under the stairs where I kept the shovel. At that moment I wished I would have listened to Burke and had a better means of protection. I didn’t. The shovel was my defense, and with a rapidly beating heart, I grabbed it.

Someone was definitely upstairs. Was it a looter? A friend? Rescue workers?

Footsteps.

I swallowed.

“Jo!” he called out.

The shovel dropped from my hand and clunked hard on the ground. “Sam!” I shrieked and dove for the steps. “Down here! We’re down here!” No sooner did I reach the bottom of the stairs, the basement door opened.

“I’m not alone,” Sam said.

The awkward, slanted ceiling, inhibited me from seeing Sam entirely. But I did see his black shoes as he stepped through the door. I could barely speak through my excited breaths. “That’s OK, we’ve got room.”

Sam descended another step. His black work pants were filthy, and as his knees came into view, I could see a blanket or something was draped over him. “Jo, I don’t want to come all the way down. I’m covered. I wanna change. But I wanna give you something.”

“Sam? What are you talking…”

Sam emerged into view and I stopped speaking and moving. I also swore that I stopped all life functions. Sam was home, but he wasn’t home alone. In his arms tight, covered by a blanket was… Matty.

* * *

Dan Leonard worked with Sam at the hotel. In my opinion, Dan was a sleazy, whining, sniveling, pompous princess who I wasn’t really fond of. So how in the world did he end up with Sam at my shelter? His being there broke my firm rule that I’d never let anyone in my shelter that I didn’t like. After all, a nuclear disaster would be tough enough without having to deal with the emotional distress of irritating people.

But there he was in my basement, devouring a can of potted meat, nibbling on a carrot. Clothes changed, hardly dirty, Dan appeared barely unscathed. That bothered me. However, he did tote with him two large cans of fruit cocktail as a contribution.

Sam was another story.

Like me, Sam’s primary focus was on Matty. He too knew she was in school, and made that his goal. He informed me that the school was—for the most part—still intact. The windows were busted, the entranceway, and part of the gymnasium had fallen, but the strong brick structure was stable. He found Matty with ease, but his mission did not stop there.

Mr. Shep, the principal was indeed alive and in charge of the surviving kids. Over two hundred Sam estimated. All of which huddled in the halls and around the basement of the school. Shep told Sam they received about an eight-minute warning, enough to get the kids below, but not enough for Mike the janitor to bring all the food to the basement. In short, they were on the last of supplies. Shep couldn’t send the kids away, and was disheartened but not surprised—according to Sam—that there weren’t any rescue stations. Still, the fact remained, the children needed fed. So Sam, Mr. Shep and about four other males ventured out to the grocer not far from the school. Then after that, Sam brought Matty home.

The problem was. From the time Sam left his work, until the time he arrived home, hours had passed. Hours of exposure.

I gave Sam a dose of potassium iodide. But an unsettling feeling swept over me when I looked at him. He looked worn. The dirt failed to wash from his face, and black marks streaked his skin. Was he lying when he told me he felt fine? I hoped not.

I watched Sam interact happily with Simon, Davy and Matty. Matty was quiet. A smart girl who knew exactly what was going on. I guessed she would eventually open up to me and talk. But at that moment, she was just quiet.

An abrasion graced the top of Sam’s head. It looked fresh; a glaze of fresh blood decorated it. But it wasn’t new, not at all. Sam received that injury when the bombs arrived. He was working in the west wing of the hotel. The grand ball room. Preparing it for some primary election party that was supposed to take place that evening. There was him and Brenda and a handful of other catering workers. They, like us, had all of thirty seconds to take cover. Not enough time to get out of that wing, let alone get below. Sam told of how they shot for the back hall, but the west wing, totally encased with windows, just erupted. No heat. No fire. Just a blast of air that smashed the windows like potato chips and left the wing a mound of matchstick rubble. In an instant, nothing was left of that wing.

Sam found himself outside, head bleeding. He had been tossed a bit of a distance and that made it hard to see what remained of the hotel, so Sam sought the best shelter he could.

He told of how he etched his way into a pocket no bigger than three feet, barricading himself in with pieces of a door and concrete. He had every intention of waiting only twenty-four hours, but he passed out. Sam said he had no idea how long he slept—an after effect of the head injury. He was conscious on and off, drifted with thoughts, and didn’t awake fully until he heard Ernie’s voice.

Ernie was another co-worker. A cook in the kitchen. It had taken Ernie and the others, days to dig out. But before Ernie headed home to his family, food in arms, he called out to see if anyone needed help.

Sam heard and snapped to. How he had survived, Sam really didn’t know. But by looking at Sam, knowing what all he went through, to me, his ‘surviving’ was still in a debatable state.

Now Dan was another story. He claimed he got locked in the freezer when the bombs fell. He claimed it took an entire day to hear Ernie’s voice, and when he did, he pounded for help. I think he locked himself in that freezer and pretended not to hear anyone just so he didn’t have to share his food.

“Ernie was unbelievable,” Dan told his story as we sat around in a circle. “Really. After he found me, he searched for others. Sam, did you know, before he helped you, he had dug out six people that had been trapped in the rubble outside?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”

“Did you help?” I asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Nope, wasn’t going to either. I know about radiation. By doing that, Ernie exposed himself quite a bit. He’ll be dead in a week.”

“Oh, my God.” I was offended at his callousness.

Dan shrugged. “Think about it. All for what? Those people were dying anyhow.”

I was going to argue, but in some way, Dan brought up a valid point.

“Was it bad out there, guys? Could you see the city?” I quizzed.

Sam shook his head. “No. Dust and smoke was too thick.”

“It’s bad.” Dan replied in a ‘know it all’ way. “There were three mushroom clouds.”

Cynically, I snapped at him, “Oh, how do you know? You were hiding in a freezer.”

“I was not hiding, I was trapped, and I know. I heard someone say.”

“You’re full of shit. Three mushrooms.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Such an idiot.”

Sam’s voice cracked as he intervened. “He’s right.” He slowly stood up and walked a few feet away.

“Sam?” I stood as well. “How do you know?"

“I saw.” Sam’s head was down, but his eyes lifted. “I saw. After the blast. I got up. I looked. God, Jo.” He closed his eyes briefly. “It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life. Like the movies. Three of them. Still glowing. Still orange. Burning an image right there in the sky.”

“No. Sam. Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you weren’t seeing right.”

Sam held up three fingers. “Three.”

In my shock, my hand covered my mouth and I stumbled back. It seemed unreal. The absurdity of three nuclear weapons pummeling the soil of my hometown stabbed me with fear, sadness and anger. Three? Wasn’t one enough to do the damage? The optimism that our attack was one of a few isolated incidents joined my hope in spiraling to despair. Singular bombs here and there could’ve been construed as strategic hits to cripple a nation. But three bombs on one city? Someone out there wasn’t just seeking to declare war on the United States. To cripple, disrupt and dishearten. Someone out there was seeking total… annihilation.

* * *

Finally I had let go of the mind argument I had with myself over how the war ended up on American soil. I was the type of person that had to know everything. The war situation bugged me. A dozen different scenarios of how it happened went through my mind, but the problem was, I could guess forever, there was no one to confirm whether I was right or wrong. Not at least while we were in the shelter.

The night called to me in a different manner than it had done previously. I had positively no urge to sleep. None. I was fully aware of the reasons for wanting to play watchdog while everyone slept. Dan played a big part in that. Did I think he was going to awaken and slaughter us all while we slept? No. Dan didn’t have the guts. He was a schizophrenic personality. Nervous and cocky all in the same breath if that was possible. And he was a coward in the worst way. I feared more of him stealing our food than anything else. I didn’t figure on Dan staying with us too long. He showed no indication of getting ill. I wagered more on the fact that I would unnerve him to the point he left, or he’d unravel so much he’d kill himself.

I promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on Dan, or have him be the reason I lost my cool. My energy deserved to be elsewhere. Plus, I was giving far too much credit to Dan for my staying up. He wasn’t the main reason. Gratefulness was. Sam and Matty were back. We, as a family unit, were intact.

The reunion made me pull out the ‘I’ll be there’ notebook and jot down a few things. Actually, I ended up writing for several hours. Then before I shut the cover, I repeated an action I had taken earlier in the day; like I did with Craig, I circled Sam’s name. Doing so made me smile, but only briefly. My eyes skimmed the list. Six people remained. Six. And I prayed at that moment, that as the days dwindle down, so would the number of my friends left unaccounted for.

7. One by One

The fourth grade electronics kit Davy got for Christmas was opened for the first time. I remember when he asked for that kit. First for his birthday, then when he didn’t get it, he asked Santa to bring it. It was expensive, and I knew it would go to waste. It did. With the intention to donate it or throw it away, Sam packed it up with all the other toys never touched. He put it in a plastic bag and stored it in the basement. Then forgot about it.

That kit became the center of attention for two days in the shelter. Davy wanted to convert the kit to send Morse code. He had a plan to get messages out. To let other survivors know we were alive. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the radio pretty much served the same purpose.

Dan still worked my nerves. Actually, Dan had to do nothing and the sight of him gnawed at me. But at least Dan wasn’t just sitting around, eating the food and crying. He had taken the entire day before and partitioned off the basement. Hating to admit it, he did a good job, too. I believe he did it purely for selfish reasons, because using an old curtain; he closed off the area around the stairs, deeming that his sleeping room. That was fine with me. The basement had gone from one large room, to three—not including Dan’s. He used what he could, sectioned off the laundry area for clean up and cooking, and divided the remaining basement portion in two. We would now have more privacy, which was important. He utilized the space, attributing his well-done job to his years of studying and teaching Fen Shui… yeah right.

We started using the basement powder room. I’ll give that one to Sam. Our next-door neighbor wasn’t home, and since his water lines weren’t shut down, the twenty gallons in the tank were not viable for drinking. It was however viable for… flushing. One flush a day. That worked. It was better than the bucket method we had been using. Although the males rarely used the bucket, they favored the drainpipe. We were wading through the intolerable better than I anticipated.

Except for Matty. Something was wrong with my daughter. She wasn’t ill, she wasn’t hurt, she was… quiet. If she spoke ten words since Sam brought her home, we were lucky. She responded to questions by nodding or shaking her head. But she started to cling more than she ever did. Holding on to me, Davy or Sam, at all times. Never was one of us without Matty attached to us.

Sam said it was shock. Not that he knew for sure, but that was his best guess, and mine. I wondered for how long? How long would Matty be withdrawn? Did she see something at that school, or was the entire aspect of all that happened, just too much for her fragile mind to handle? There were no answers. Not yet.

Davy and Simon were still Davy and Simon. Fast becoming bomb shelter pros. They had a routine they rarely varied from. One that included some sort of daily activity that lasted for hours. Even if Simon didn’t partake in actually completing the project, Davy made Simon feel like he was. Including his little buddy in everything. It astounded me that how only twice, maybe three times, did Simon wear thin on Davy.

We were in the draped off section in the corner by the cold cellar. Davy and Simon worked on the Morse code, I read from a children’s book while Matty cuddled to my side.

“Roger Dinosaur poked his head in the door, ‘You have to let me in,” I read from the book, “’No,’ said Cook, ‘you’re too big, get out’. Then clunk, cook hit Roger on the head with the pan.” As I flipped the page, I heard Simon laughing hysterical.

“Funny.” Simon giggled. “Again. Read it again.”

Over his shoulder, Davy peered at me. “Mom. No.”

I ignored Davy and read, “Roger Dinosaur poked his head in the door, ‘You have to let me in.’ ‘No,’ said Cook, ‘you’re too big, get out’. Then clunk, Cook hit Roger on the head with the pan.”

Again, Simon broke out in hysterical laughter, slapping his little knee and nearly falling to the floor. “Funny, Aunt Jo. Again.”

Really, I would have obliged, but Davy blasted out his objections, and Matty shook her head violently. I understood, it wasn’t like I had only read the passage twice; I had read it at least ten times before that. “No, Simon. I have to read another page.”

“Aw.” He whined. “Davy, tell Aunt Jo.”

“Can’t.” Davy shrugged. “Aunt Jo’s mean.”

“Thank you for that, Davy.” Shaking my head, I turned the page. Just as I opened my mouth to read, I heard Sam cough. Maybe if it were someone else, this wouldn’t have been alarming. But Sam was one of those people who just didn’t cough.

“Sam?” I called out.

Sam coughed again just before he poked his head in the curtain. “Yeah?”

“You OK?”

Sam gave me a smirk as if I were ridiculous. “Yes.”

“Were you sleeping?” I asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

“No, I was next door, seeing what Mark had in his basement.”

“Sam.” I sighed out. “Stop going outside so much.”

“Jo, please,” he scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really?”

“Read your book. I have some tools to put away.”

The curtain closed.

Sam the looter. It made me chuckle, but Sam worried me. He went in and out of the shelter so much, I truly wondered if Sam thought he was infallible. The fear of radiation poisoning just wasn’t with him. Not at all.

Ready to slam back into the powerhouse story of Roger, the Dinosaur, it dawned on me. It was time.

“Sam?” I summoned him again. “Can you put the radio on? Craig is gonna make his hourly report.”

Davy muttered, “Oh my, God.”

“What?” I glanced at Davy. “What?”

Davy shook his head.

“Sam? I’m holding Matty. Can you open the curtain so I can hear.”

Again, Davy said it, only louder. “Oh my God.”

“What?” I was confused, then spewed forth a ‘thank you’ when the curtain opened.

“Why do we have to listen to Craig every hour?” Davy asked. “He’s boring.”

“He’s broadcasting the levels.”

“Sam goes out and take a level now that he figured out the Geiger counter.”

“Well…” I grew a little snobbish. “Doesn’t hurt to double check. Right Matty?”

Matty nodded.

“Right, Simon?” I asked.

Before Simon answered me, he listened to whatever Davy whispered in his ear. “Craig’s boring,” Simon said.

“Boring or not,” I defended. “He’s still calling out there, maybe someone will respond.”

“Why do we care?” Davy questioned.

“We’ll know other people are alive.”

“But if we don’t know them, why does it matter?”

“Davy,” I huffed slightly. “You never know, maybe we’ll have to meet up with them.”

“But wouldn’t it be impossible if they were like in, I don’t know, China”

My frustration took over. “If they were in China we probably wouldn’t understand them. Build your fuckin’ Morse code thingy.”

Davy looked at me and mouthed the word, ‘thingy’ with question.

A waved a hand at him in a ‘shoo’ manner.

Like clockwork, Craig’s voice came over the radio. Introduced by a hiss of static. “Cycle one. Hourly report. May twelfth. Anyone there? Over.”

Davy fluttered his lips. “Boring.”

“Shh.” I instructed.

After Craig’s thirty-second wait, he called again. “Cycle two. Hourly report. May Twelfth. Anyone there? Over.”

For the first time, there was a response. A crackling broke up the clear transmission, followed by a few dots of un-interpretable words. Then the male voice, deep, and sounding no less than totally aggravated, blasted through. “Yeah… I’m here.”

Before we could say it in our enthusiasm, Craig did.

“Burke!” Craig squealed.

We all raced to the radio as if we wouldn’t have been able to hear it any other way. Holding Matty, I huddled closer with my family. Our faces glued to the speaker, waiting to hear with anticipation what Burke had to say.

Boy were we surprised.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Burke’s voice broke up a little here and there. “Is Jo with you?” Despite the fact that Burke had made a connection with a familiar voice, he still sounded disgusted. “If she’s listening, tell her I’m fuckin’ pissed at her. Goddamn piece of on-line auction bargain radio shit she had me buy. For days—“

Static.

“Burke?” Craig called out.

A crackle, static, then Burke came back. “Son of—bitch. Goddamn. Fuckin radio.” The static began to overwhelm Burke’s transmission. “I finally get—work—son of a—hold on—let me—beat—thing.”

There was a brief moment of silence then when Burke returned, he sounded crystal clear. “There.” He said. “Better. Just had to fuckin beat it a little more.” He let out a heavy breath that caused a distortion sound. “Now. Where were we?”

“You were bitching about Jo.” Craig replied. "She’s not with me. But she’s listening from her house.”

“Oh, really?” Burke asked with sarcasm. “Is that so? Hey Jo? Jo! Jo. Pick up the microphone. Jo. Jo!”

Sam extended the microphone to me. “Wanna talk?”

There was no debate, nor hesitation on my part on what to do. “No.” I shook my head at it. “I’ll just… I’ll just listen.”

8. Awaiting Burke

Burke didn’t follow the rules. Not one bit. He was insistent to talk to me, and after an hour of continuous bantering, calling my name, telling childhood secrets over the airwaves in some sort of blackmail attempt, I gave in. But not without bartering first. Burke was trapped in his basement, something blocked his escape and only someone from outside could help dig him out. I told him I would only send over Sam, if he promised not to yell. Burke promised. Sam left.

“Stay on this radio until I know he’s here,” Burke told me, still sounding agitated.

“I’m not understanding this hostility, Burke. It’s not my fault you got the dejected radio.”

“No. It’s not. I apologize.”

Somehow I didn’t buy his sincerity, but I acted as if I did. “Thank you. Now, why the anger? Maybe you’re just worried about Hebba.”

Silence.

“Burke? Burke you there?”

“I’m here.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course I’m fuckin’ worried, but that’s not why I’m pissed off. I’m hungry, Jo. I’ve been living off of a can of spaghetti and a bottle of Jack for five days.”

“So you’re drunk.”

“What? No! I said I was hungry.”

“Burke, that’s not my fault.”

“You don’t think?”

“Um… hardly.” I chuckled. “How is it my fault? You bought and made rations.”

Burke growled. He literally growled. “Jo! I bought those cases of beef jerky and canned meat because you and I made a pact. We were gonna split up our rations.”

“Yeah, and I told you I’d give you dehydrated fruit and split pea soup. That was one of the reasons I made so much split pea soup. What’s the problem?”

“Where are my rations?”

“Here.”

“Exactly. I have no goddamn rations in my basement!”

Thinking, ‘shit’, I tried to cover. “But still, Burke. You live five blocks away. I taught you enough to know after a couple of days you could have made it over here.”

Burke sounded eerily calm. “Yes, I could have.” Then he lost it. “If I wasn’t trapped!”

“You know!” I barked, “I’m turning this off. I’m not gonna waste my battery energy to listen to you bitch.”

“You’re right. You’re right. I’ll wait until I get there.”

“Thank you.” I took a moment to calm down. “Burke, you of all people surprise me that you didn’t hear the warning. You’re always watching television or listening to the radio.”

“I know. I was watching TV in the game room too. But I worked night turn and fell asleep right on the couch. I didn’t know it happened until I woke up and half my house had crumbled down around me.”

“You… you slept through a nuclear explosion?”

“Yeah. How do you like that? Don’t it figure though? I always was a heavy sleeper.”

Unable to help it, I laughed. It was something funny that I needed to hear. More than he knew, Burke’s voice was also something I needed to hear. Despite how much he griped at me, I gained an incredible extra sense of security knowing that Burke was still alive and would be with us soon.

‘SOS’ was the only thing that Davy knew how to send. He got his Morse code contraption up and running, and sent signals out in fifteen-minute intervals. SOS. SOS. I was impressed at my son’s initiative, and even more so impressed at his teaching Simon Morse code. Of course all Simone sent out was ‘SSS’, but it was cute.

We awaited Burke’s arrival like he was a long lost relative. It was taking an exuberant amount of time. The last radio broadcast I received from Burke was a call of assurance that they were making progress. It had been three hours and I worried about Sam. Once again, he was at it. Once again he was outside. How much more would his body take? I reviewed the handbook I had purchased on how to survive a nuclear war, and researched the topic of radiation sickness. According to the book, for all intents and purposes, Sam should have already been sick. He wasn’t. Other than the cough, he exhibited no illness. Not even fatigue. I started to believe that it was his persistence to push on, and resistance to stop that halted anything from invading his body. By the grace of God, Sam was protected and was remarkably beating the odds.

I thought that Dan would have gone with Sam to help and speed things along. But Dan didn’t offer and Sam didn’t push. Both seemed rather content in having Dan stay in the shelter. Dan did have one thing in his favor. He had no problem eating the ‘disgusting’ shelter food everyone else wanted to avoid. Like the ‘Red Hot Pickled Sausages.’  Quaint little red things, wrapped in airtight packages. I bought them bulk because they were cheap, they were meat, and they had a shelf life of forever. Sour and gross tasting, Dan consumed them in a slow savoring manner as if they were a delicacy. He even chomped on dehydrated split pea soup as a snack.

Matty’s small daily dose of words were unexpectedly about Dan. She whispered to me that she didn’t like him. Dan overheard and felt compelled to try to convince my daughter he wasn’t all that bad. Simon listened intently, and kept trying to interject by saying, ‘But I like you, Dan. I like you.’

It amazed me, it did. A closed in area, extreme circumstances, apart from the occasional bouts of tension, we were doing extraordinarily well in the shelter. No doubt, things would soon take an interesting turn. Which direction that was—good, bad, smooth, rough—remained unclear. But it was certain, one way or another, things would change.

Burke was on his way.

It had taken just a minute or two under four hours and Burke transmitted he was coming. I knew it wouldn’t take long after the radio call, and I started to fill with not only anticipation, but anxiety as well. I never thought Burke wouldn’t survive, and be part of my little after-war plan. To me that wasn’t an option. However, the effects of Burke and I in the same shelter never had crossed my mind. We had a history of bickering, childlike, non-progressive. We had done so since we met. Burke was a brick wall in size and in mind. When there were bigger things to concern me, I worried about the petty stuff before he arrived. I shouldn’t have. The second Burke stepped into my basement; all of my worries went out the window. Even if it ended up being only for that brief reunion moment… I was ecstatic to see Burke.

9. House Rules

“Cycle Three. Hourly Report. May thirteenth. If anyone is listening I have the radiation levels. Currently we are at 16 roentgens per hour. It is still advisable to remain indoors and below. Next report…”

“Craig.” Burke grabbed the microphone and approached the airwaves conversation in his typical gruff manner. “Every fuckin’ day, every fuckin’ hour it’s advised to stay indoors. So, on the chance someone else is listening, why don’t you tell them what is a safe level to go out.”

“You did this to me last hour.” Craig replied.

“And you didn’t respond.”

“I know I didn’t respond.”

“Why?” Burke asked.

“Why should I?”

“Why not? I don’t think you know.”

“I know.”

“Then say.” Burke instigated.

“Fine.” Craig huffed, then rambled fast. “The human body can only withstand 100 roentgens an hour before getting sick. It is advisable that in order not to get sick, a person is exposed to no more than six or eight roentgens per day. The body can repair the radiation damage, if it is received over a long period of time in small does. Any dose over 350 can be lethal. So…” Craig sang out the word in a long breath. “Handing out some math trivia. If we are at 15 rads per hour. How many hours would Burke have to be exposed before Burke… dies.”

“Asshole.” Burke shut off the radio.

“You deserved that,” I told Burke. “Why do you let him get to you?”

“Can’t he say anything else?” Burke asked.

“Familiarity breeds…”

Suddenly, surprising us all, Matty spoke up. “Twenty.”

Matty still wasn’t speaking more than a few words a day, so this was a breakthrough. Shocked at her speaking, but curious as to what she meant, I looked at her. “What honey? What was that?”

“The math trivia,” she said. “Twenty hours. If Burke goes outside twenty hours he will die.”

“Matty,” I wisped out so excited. “Oh my God, very good.”

Burke shook his head. “Swell.”

“Look at the bright side.” I told him. “You got her to speak.”

“To calculate my death.”

“Perhaps incentive works.” I shrugged.

Burke grumbled. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, and walked away, probably to find Dan, sit by him and try to have a conversation. Burke was well aware his presence rattled Dan, maybe that was the reason Burke sought Dan’s friendship so diligently.

I, on the other hand, sought something else.

Solace.

It’s hard to imagine, that with seven people in that basement area, a quiet corner would be a feasible scenario. It was. My basement looked like something from the depression era. Bed sheets and old curtains made up separation walls; they gave us sanctuary when needed.

Matty found herself not needing to hold onto my hip quite as much. Still, I could not be more than a few feet from her. Her and I sat in the first partitioned area by the cold cellar. A place we would eventually become very accustomed to calling ours.

A singer named Helen Reddy recorded a song in the 1970’s called, ‘Ruby Red Dress’. The telltale chorus blasted out, ‘Leave me alone. Please, leave me alone.” I had to explain this to everyone, and even sang a sample of the song, because they were curious as to why I hung an old red sweater on the entrance curtain to our area.

Basically, if the sweater was hanging for them to see, it meant, ‘Leave me alone’. The look on their faces all but said they thought I was ridiculous. But I needed to assure privacy, and the red sweater was my fair warning to them. If they entered the area while I sought peace, it meant war. It was as simple as that.

Understandably concessions would have to be made all the way around. Managing problems before they arose was one of the reasons I sought my privacy. I had some thinking to do.

Not that I didn’t expect it, but Burke added an odd flavor to the soup of people in the basement. Sort of the spice that stood out, one that after a while would blend in. Burke was a great guy. When he worked on something his presence was hardly noticeable. When Burke was restless, he grew loud. He hadn’t even been with us twenty-four hours, and he was outside firing off his shotgun. Not at anything, just firing it off. A few shots. He argued that it was a way for him to relieve tension, plus maybe it would draw out other survivors. I totally disagreed; telling him that if I heard someone firing a gun, the last thing I would do would emerge from my safe basement to see who was shooting. Burke probably sent the entire surviving members of my neighborhood into a frightened tizzy. Causing them to dig in deeper, because not only had a nuclear weapon gone off, but ground war had erupted as well.

Managing Burke within the current shelter state was not where my concern lay. It was with those who would soon join us. Pre-space management, chemistry management, and delegation of duties were my new primary focus. I envisioned myself capable of plotting out a plan of perfect order. What to do with whom. Where to put this person, or that. What tasks would I hand out? The ideal of a picture perfect, ‘bomb shelter harmony’ was farfetched, I wasn’t aiming for that. A bomb shelter with minimal chaos was my goal. With that thought, high hopes of achievement, and red sweater handing on the entrance curtain, I set forth on the task.

* * *

“What is ‘MH’?” Sam asked right after I showed him my agenda.

I had gathered him, Burke and Dan—the adults—around to listen to what I had laid out. It was Sam’s fourth question in all of five minutes and I hadn’t even begun to show them. His first three questions were inane. ‘You actually wrote it down?’ was his first one. Though to some it may not constitute a question. His second was, ‘Look at all these pages, how long did it take you’ and finally, ‘When did I find time to do it?’ Which, of course, I truly wanted to reply that I hadn’t a clue, seeing how I was extremely busy sitting in a bomb shelter.

“You know, Sam, if you let me just explain first,” I told him.

“I’m just asking.”

“You know what…” I closed the notebook “Forget it.”

Burke, who was sitting with us, winced in irritation. “Why don’t you just calm your ass down, and tell us.”

I retorted, “Why don’t you go outside and hang out, that way, Matty can deduct a few more hours from the ‘how long can Burke be outside before he dies’ list.”

“Sam.” Burke huffed out as if Sam would be able to do something about me.

“Can I?” Dan raised his hand. “I’d like to hear this. Go ahead, Jo.”

I was reluctant, because somehow I just didn’t sense that they cared all that much about my list. “MH is Mark’s house next door.”

Sam nodded. “So you want to put Burke, Hebba, Dan, Craig and Nicky, Tammy and her son over there?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He has a huge basement. We’re OK now, but when more people show up, we’ll be cramped. Why not use his house until we get everything geared up to head to Burke’s cabin. Split the people between two houses.”

“What happens if he comes home?” Sam asked.

Sometimes in life, people say things. Often without thought, never truly meaning the words they spoke. However, when Burke answered the question presented to me, by saying. “I never liked Mark much. I’ll kill him if you want.” I believed he meant that.

The corner of Sam’s mouth lifted in a partial smile when he glanced at Burke. “You are kidding, right?”

“Nope. Squatter’s rights.” Burke shrugged. “Survival of the fittest. We need his house. If I could have killed him all those times he yelled at me for parking in his driveway, I would have. But… there were laws.”

Dan asked, “Was he that bad?”

“No.” I quickly answered. “And if he comes back, we leave. If he gets angry or violent…” I shifted my eyes to Burke. “Then we’ll let Burke handle it if needed.”

Sam shook his head in such disgust. “That’s not right, it’s the man’s house.”

I chuckled with sarcasm. “And this is coming from a man who’s been ripping him off? Just… plan on him not coming back, OK?”

“What about the people on this list?” Burke asked. “You have all of us doing something to prepare for leaving. But… do you think these people are coming?”

“Yes.” I answered with certainty.

“All of them?” Burke questioned further.

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, I don’t see…” Burke paused to try to remember. “What’s his name? Rod’s friend.”

“Denny.” I replied. “That’s because I really don’t think Denny made it.”

“But you think Mona did?”

“Mona stays. She could very easily be alive.”

“She was in Tulsa.” Burke argued. “What makes you more sure that she’s alive and Denny is not.”

“Because Denny works downtown. I know for a fact that downtown got hit.”

“Yeah, well, Mona is smack dab in the middle of missile silo ally.” Burke pushed my list to me. “She’s a goner.”

That was it. I grabbed and closed my notebook, then stood up. “Forget it. Why do I bother? Go back to discussing, whatever. I’m just trying to add a little order to the weeks ahead.” I flung open the curtain and stormed off into my partitioned area. Dejected that my idea wasn’t welcomed warmly, I plopped down on my sleeping bag. Somehow they must have forgotten that the basement wasn’t all that big, and that the curtains, though a wonderful sense of privacy, were not sound proof. I heard what they said.

“Why did you have to argue?” Sam asked.

“I wasn’t arguing.” Burke said. “I was questioning. You questioned.”

Dan spoke up. “She has a good idea. Like it or not. I know what she’s trying to get at. If you would have just… listened.”

“I did listen.” Burke sounded offended. “That is why I questioned. Granted, I may have been a little hard. But, if Jo wants to make a list of who does what, then Jo should make it realistic. Is she wants order, she’s not going to get it by giving important jobs to people who just won’t be here. It’s been a week. With the exception of Craig, if they ain’t here, they ain’t coming.”

Burke was wrong. He was dead wrong. I wanted to stand up, throw open the dividing curtain and blast my loudest, ‘Fuck you, how can you say that!’

I had preached and preached for people to stay below for two weeks. Maybe they listened and were waiting out the time. Yes, there were some people I had given up on, that was because I knew of their circumstances when the bombs went off. But the others, they stood as good of a chance as anyone. Maybe it was gut instinct, or maybe it was pure unadulterated hope, whatever the case, I wasn’t giving up. I had eight people on that list, and my firm argument was, if I had circled three names already, there was no reason to believe I wouldn't circle the rest.

10. Foolishness by Nature

Civilizations all had different ways to keep track of time. I started referring to time passed as ‘AB’, or ‘After Burke’. Reasoning that everything shifted in energy the day he arrived. Things felt different having him with us. The spark he ignited that made us all want to fight, rekindled a flame that had been extinguished by the bombs. A flame of passion that was desperately needed to battle the odds and conquer what was ahead of us. A flame we hadn’t realized was out, until Burke fired us up. It felt good. It felt alive. And even though it mainly was to gripe about Burke, Matty had added a few more words to her daily repertoire of vocabulary. While most of our need to fight was directed at Burke, we likened it to a practice run for what was ahead.

When the mighty revelation hit me of what all Burke inspired, I wondered if he had done it on purpose. If he had some deeply seeded psychological genius that he hid for decades. An instinctual skill that told him that we all needed some ‘oomph’, and he intentionally played little ‘mind games’ to aid us along. Following an hour-long daydream mental picture of Burke sitting in some Freudian mode, I shucked that idea. He wasn’t being crafty, he was being Burke.

It was three days AB when I had my first true victory over Burke. A ‘Feast your eyes on this’, moment in which I gloated. For his visual benefit I nearly plowed his face into my ‘I’ll be there notebook’ and made him watch as I circled the name ‘Tammy’.

“All right, already! God!” Burke yelled. “I see her!”

But the gloating period had to be kept to a minimum, Tammy had arrived, but she arrived with problems. Physical problems. Nonetheless, Tammy wouldn’t own up to them being anymore than a scratch. For as long as I have known Tammy, an injury never held her back. In fact, there was a sense of ‘boasting’ when it came to Tammy being hurt. She treated her injuries like war wounds, spewing forth great tales about them. Even at times—depending on how she acquired them—she’d brag of them like trophies.

Except this time.

For an odd reason, we couldn’t get from Tammy exact details of what happened. We knew she was near ground zero, but obviously far enough away that she wasn’t vaporized. We also got that she was driving and her truck over turned from the blast. Other than that, she said she took cover, waited until she couldn’t wait anymore then headed our way. Though her long-term goals were with our little group, her short-term goals weren’t; her objectives were a warm bowl of soup, cup of water and a place to rest for a few hours. Then she was heading off to find her teenage son, stopping first at the high school two miles away, then home.

Sam prepared food for Tammy, stating her injuries made him sick. I think Sam was sick and he used Tammy as an excuse. There was, however, a slight odor, sour smelling, that came from the thick gash on her left bicep. Without placing my nose directly to her, I wasn’t able to determine if it was the gash, or the burnt skin around it. Either way, her arm was swollen, and the areas not infected on the limb were deep and red. Burke tended to the arm, I cleaned the abrasions on the side of her face, and Matty applied a band-aid to Tammy’s skinned knee. All while Tammy griped that she wasn’t a baby and for us to quit fussing over her.

Simon must have found the entire scenario very interesting. He made his way over, sneaking in between the three of us playing doctor. Little index finger extended, he’d point awfully close to the wounds while saying, “Does your boo-boo hurt?”

Davy finally pulled Simon away; I know it was for fear that Burke would step on him. He took Simon aside, and colorfully narrated our attempts as if he were reading Simon a book, and we were the words on the page.

“OK, enough.” Tammy aimed her complaint toward Burke. “I told you it doesn’t hurt.”

“Then why are you jumping when I touch it?” Burke asked.

“Because you keep pouring whiskey on it, of course it’s gonna sting. What do you think?” she argued.

I know what I was thinking. I was thinking, ‘please don’t fight with Burke, he’ll stop working on that arm, and I’ll be stuck with it.’

“This is ridiculous.” Burke tossed down the rag. “She needs medical attention.”

Tammy was defiant, “Oh, I do not. Besides, Burke, where? Huh? Where?”

“Out there, somewhere,” Burke said. “They have to be setting something up.”

“Who?” Tammy questioned. “Who would do it? The government. They aren’t doing anything right now. Trust me. Nothing but a bunch of confused people wandering around. There’s no military. No nothing.”

“Fuck,” Burke said with disgust. “I don’t believe this shit. All the planning, Jo. I’m surprised you didn’t plan on some medical person joining us.”

“I did.” I replied. “She moved out of town.”

“Then we’re gonna have to figure something out,” Burke explained. “This arm is bad. I don’t know what’s happening with it, infection, whatever it is, it’s fuckin foul.”

Tammy breathed out. “Thank you for that.”

“And him…” Burke indicated to Sam. “He’s hacking up a lung every five seconds.”

Sam spoke up, “It’s the dust I took in. That’s all.” He coughed.

“Yeah.” Burked nodded sarcastically. “My point is, Jo, none of us have any medical knowledge.”

“I resent that,” I said. “I went to school to be a medical assistant.”

Burke laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“A medical assistant?” Burke was snide. “Please. A medical assistant is something a welfare mother decides to be because it’s schooling the state pays for while she keeps getting monthly checks.”

“Oh, my God!” I gasped out. “Can you be any more of an asshole.”

“Probably.” Burke stood straight, and slowly walked off, grabbing the bottle of whiskey as he did.

Apologetically I looked to Tammy. “I’m sorry. We’re doing the best we can do.”

Tammy nodded. “I know. And I’m fine. I mean it. If you just give me a few aspirins, something to eat, let me sleep, I’ll feel even better. Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Tammy.” I slowly placed the final bandage on her face. “Can’t you wait…”

“No. I can’t.”

“Then what about taking Burke? He can help.”

Again, Tammy shook her head. “No. I’m not dragging anyone out there. I’ll do this. Besides, it’s not like I won’t be back, or even gone for days. I’ll look for Mick, if no luck, I’ll come back and try again, tomorrow.”

I know Tammy saw my reluctance to agree.

“Jo,” She laid her hand on mine. “I have to do this. It’s my kid. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

It wasn’t too difficult for me to place myself in Tammy’s shoes, seeing that a strong base for her argument was kneeling right there on the floor. Matty. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I would.”

I hated to say it, because in doing so, I was all but giving my go ahead and blessing to Tammy to venture out into the madness. To take on a rubble filled city with an environment that shot rays of an invisible killer at her. Tammy was safe and sound right there in my basement. But as a friend and a mother, I could give no less than encouragement, support, and prayers for her solo journey of heroism to find her son.

* * *

Tammy rested for about two hours and was off before Craig did his three PM radio report. She returned several hours later without her son. She had checked the school and they, like the grade school, had the kids inside and below. Unfortunately for Tammy, the day of war, was one of the many times Mick had skipped class and he hadn’t showed up that day. So she headed home, futile in finding Mick there was well. We deducted upon her return that since Mick wasn’t home, or at a friend’s house, he darted somewhere for cover. Nothing happened to him and we’d walk around with a megaphone if we had to, blasting out his name in every area of their neighborhood.

How long would Tammy physically be able to search remained to be seen. An infection in her arm was obviously brewing; the sour smell was a bit more predominant.

Tammy was another person who joined the shelter, yet it didn’t fuel any tension. Mostly because two people didn’t have the energy, they were both ill. Tammy could throw a blanket over her arm and hide it, Sam couldn’t. I remember when I used to read about shelter conditions and illnesses; every book stated the heightened risk for respiratory infection. Sam was proving that theory absolutely correct.

His cough grew worse, and instead of the occasional hack, he launched into full-blown fits that lasted not seconds but minutes. I knew Sam was admitting defeat to feeling sick when he went to sleep before the rest of us. His face was flush, his skin warm and dry to the touch. Burke and I both checked to see if any of Sam’s injuries were showing signs of infection. Not even the head wound did, despite the fact it still hadn’t begun to heal. He slumbered deeply, no matter how much he coughed, and that was good. Sam needed that.

Unlike Sam, Tammy or Dan, the kids didn’t want to sleep. They didn’t want to run about, they just weren’t tired. Burke didn’t rest either. With the news that the military hadn’t even begun to ‘roll out’, the chance of looters increased. With each passing day without food, came another passing day of desperation for those who were wandering around. Burke took watch. In a chair on the landing, at the bend of the basement stairs, Burke sat. Shotgun perched across his lap, eyes peered to the door, there would be no remorse or hesitation on Burke’s part for anyone who entered that didn’t belong.

Stay up all night; sleep when he could during the day.

In the quiet of the night, voices carry. Burke must have been listening, because occasionally he’d sprout out a comment to add to the conversation I had with the kids. Simon sat to my right, Matty to my left, Davy directly in front of me, doing something I wished he wouldn’t do—skim through my sketchpad.

Davy snickered. “This is funny. Simon, look at how Aunt Jo drew you.”

Simon laughed. I winced.

“Like a baby doll.” Davy said, then flipped to another sketch.

“Davy, don’t smear those OK?” I instructed. “I don’t have anything to spray them with.”

“I’m not. I’m not.” He peered at another.

I tried to continue in my story to Simon and Matty. “Anyway, where was I?”

Burke replied from across the basement, “The cabin.”

“Mom?” Davy held up a picture. “Why did you draw a diagram of the basement? I mean we’re here.”

“Because you never know who’s gonna look at those.” I said. “That may very well be part of the new history books.”

Davy snickered.

“What?” I defended, “It could happen. Hey… who knows. Maybe even our ‘AB’ time thing will carry on.”

From the stairs again, Burke commented, “I hate that.”

“Who cares,” I said. “Anyway. The cabin.” I inched Simon and Matty closer to me. “It’s a place not far from here, but far enough away that the bombs probably never touched it. It’s not too big…”

Burke interrupted, “It’s big. Bigger than this.”

I ignored him. “And you know how we have those jars to start our seedlings? Well, we’re gonna take the seedlings and plant them up there.”

Burke added his two cents worth. “After we lift the top of the soil.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Anyhow, there’s a ton of land too. Room to run, to play. Two acres.”

“Two point three.” Burke corrected.

I continued, “Lots of trees.”

“I cut half of them down.” Burke added. “Remember.”

“Enough trees, though to make it pretty.” I said.

“I put that fence up.”

“Burke!” I yelled. “Will you stay out of my story!”

“Tell it right and I will!” he hollered back.

“I’m trying to, but you keep interrupting.”

“I keep interrupting because you’re telling it wrong!”

There was one thing that Tammy was able to do, that no one else could—yell louder than Burke. In a deep, irritated, gurgling voice, she blasted, “Hey! Will you two knock it off? Some of us would like to sleep.”

“Well, sleep goddamn it!” Burke yelled. “No one’s stopping you.”

“You are!” Tammy barked. “You and your big mouth.”

“Hey!” Burke had a bite to his voice. “Me and my big mouth along with my big shotgun are watching out for your big ass, so deal with it!”

Silence.

“Oh, my God.” I whispered, and then exhaled. “Well, that’s where we’re going. Doesn’t it sound nice? A fresh start.” I glanced from Simon, to Matty to Davy.

“Aunt Jo?” Simon tugged on my arm. “Will my mommy be there?”

I didn’t hesitate, I just answered. “I don’t know, Simon. Maybe.”

“Is she still lost, Aunt Jo?” Simon asked.

“I think so, Simon.” I took in his innocent face; puppy eyes that peered up to me and I gently placed my lips to his forehead.

“Mommy?” Matty called me. “When? When are we going?”

“When everyone is together, then we’ll go. And…” I paused when Sam’s coughing carried to me. “And… when everyone is well.”

“When will that be?” Matty questioned further.

“Soon.” My eyes made contact with Davy and I gave him a reassuring look. “Very soon.” Pulling Matty and Simon to me, I closed my eyes, blocked out the sounds of Sam’s coughing, and whispered to myself, “I hope.”

11. Realism

Just before dawn of day six AB, the airwaves went silent. Craig had stopped transmitting his hourly reports. Usually he’d sign off about midnight, later if he felt the initiative, then return at five the next day. We tuned in, Craig wasn’t there.

We heard from Tammy though. The first time in two days. At four days AB, she searched for Mick, came back for the night then left again. She took with her Burke’s radio and made one check-in call. It was to tell us she was heading south toward Mick’s father’s home.

Still, no Craig. No word. Then around seven in the morning, Craig showed up. The slight scuffling of his feet above our heads made Burke ‘weapons ready’. Until the door opened, and there was Craig… alone.

He had stayed with a man named Bruce, but couldn’t convince Bruce to come along. Craig did however, bring two pieces of good news. The radiation levels fell just a tad below four roentgens per hour, and an Army medical rescue station was set up not a mile from my home.

With the deliverance of this news, my thoughts turned to Sam. He had worsened. Though he tried to maintain a level of usefulness, for the most part Sam had to rest. His breathing was labored, and coughing up the thick gunk lodged in his chest became a chore. Dan had appointed himself Sam’s personal nurse. ‘Out of the goodness of his heart and indebtedness to Sam’, Dan claimed. I believed he helped Sam only because it was the least menial of all jobs.

Even with Dan playing Florence Nightingale, Sam needed more help than we could give. The medical rescue station was it.

But Burke and Craig had other plans.

Aside from Mona, three other people were unaccounted for: Hebba, Nicky, and Rod.

Hebba was a traveling hospice worker, and she had three stops to make every day. Burke and Sam had checked two of those stops when Sam helped Burke. But Hebba wasn’t there. Burke figured she had to be at the third, she had to be.

As fate would have it, Nicky and Rod both worked within a few blocks from each other. On the outskirts of downtown, in a little section called Beachwood. Ironically enough, Hebba’s third stop for the day was near there as well.

Beachwood was close to ground zero; it was hard to determine whether or not it was actually still standing. But radiation levels had dropped, enough time had passed, Burke and Craig were forming a two-man search party, and were about to find out.

I followed Burke around the basement as he gathered items for the search. “But, Burke…”

Was Burke ignoring me? He kept a conversation with Craig about ropes, flashlights, and a small shovel. Things they would need.

“Burke.” I grabbed hold of his arm, and spoke with hard determination. “Listen to me!”

Burke finally turned to face me. “Jo, we want to head out. OK?”

“No, it’s not OK. Sam needs help.”

“I know Sam needs help.” Burke said, “But right now…”

“You’re blowing him off.”

“Jo!” Burke snapped. “We will get Sam the help he needs… later.”

My eyes shifted to Sam who slept. His body propped up on four blankets. “Burke, if we can get him to the rescue station. Craig said there’s a rescue station.”

“I know. But right now, we’re headed in the complete opposite direction.”

I huffed out, “I can’t believe you are taking this attitude.”

“I asked Sam. Sam said to wait.”

“Oh.” I grunted in frustration. “Sam still doesn’t think he’s ill.”

Burke tossed a small rope to Craig, and then secured a hand revolver under his jacket. “Ready?” he asked Craig, ignoring me. They moved to the steps.

I was persistent. “Burke. Stop. The rescue station is only a mile away. Didn’t you listen to Craig?”

“Yeah, I did.” Burke spun around to me. “Didn’t you? Tell her Craig.”

“Jo.” Craig spoke calmly. “I told you, the rescue station was packed. No, more than packed. They’re saying it’s a two day wait for help.”

Burke stepped into the conversation. “Two days, Jo. You really wanna drag Sam down there to have him wait? Wait with all those people for two days? He’ll be more comfortable here. We’ll be gone a couple hours tops. We’ll work something out when I get back.” Giving a nod to Craig, Burke started to take the stairs.

“The hell with you then.” I barked. “I’ll go myself. I’ll go down there and get him something.”

Mid stairs, Burke stopped. “You will do no such thing. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.” I gave attitude. “But you’ll be gone, now won’t you?”

Burke’s face glared. “I swear to God, Jo, don’t you dare leave this shelter when I’m gone. You have three kids here. It’s a mad house out there. Your ass will stay put until I get back.” Burke gave a firm point. “Stay here.” He turned, said no more and walked up the steps.

After giving an apologetic look, Craig followed Burke.

How long did I stand there? Standing with my arms folded defiantly, I watched their legs disappear up the steps, then the slamming basement door caused a painful jolt through my body. I heard the walking above me, and I knew when they were gone.

My head dropped.

Dan’s slow sigh rang out near my ear as he stepped beside me. “For what it’s worth, you were right.”

Barely did I face him to speak, when Davy jumped a defensive.

“No, she’s not.” Davy argued. “Burke’s right. Sam said to wait. She should wait.”

“No.” I muttered softly. “No, I should go. Go now, I won’t be long.” I moved away from the staircase. Pretty much, I was all ready to go, since I thought Burke was taking Sam and me to the station. All I needed were my gloves, sunglasses, and bandana. Those I found with little problems.

“Mom, no.” Davy followed me. “Please don’t. Burke said…”

“Burke is not Sam’s wife. I am.” Lifting the bandana to tie around my head, my attention went to Sam. Surprising me, he was sitting up on the cot.

“Jo.” Sam held his side. “I’m fine. I can wait until Burke gets back.”

Shaking my head as I finished the bandana, I walked to him. “No, you can’t.” I laid my hand on his cheek. “You’re burning up.” My eyes closed and I clenched my jaws. “God, Sam. I am so angry with you. So, angry. Why couldn’t you just stay in the shelter? Why did you have to run about?”

“Those were choices I made, Jo.” Sam struggled to stand up. “My choices. OK? I’m fine.”

Answers. I needed answers. My heart told me to run and get him help, while my head was asking me if I were nuts. Searching, I glanced around. Matty and Simon sat on the floor watching the whole thing. Looking so lost. Then my eyes shifted slowly from right to left. Davy. Sam. Dan. ‘Someone!’ I screamed inside. ‘Someone just tell me what to do!’

Dan did. “Jo, my opinion may not count, but I say go. I’ll be here…”

“What!” Sam blasted then caught his breath. “Don’t tell her that shit.”

Confirmation given. I needed to hear no more. “I’m going.” I backed up.

Sam grabbed my arm. “Jo, I’ll stop you.”

I removed his fingers as I chuckled in disbelief. “You can hardly stand. You can’t stop me.” I turned.

Davy blocked my way. “Maybe Sam can’t. But I can, Mom.”

Granted my teenage son was taller than me, but I was still his mother. And knowing him well, I was certain he would not physically grab me, throw me aside, or hold me back. I wagered on that and side stepped Davy.

“Mom.”

“I’m going.” Hurriedly, before Davy could prove me wrong by grabbing me, I made it to the stairs.

Dan halted Davy. “Let her go. You’re a child, you haven’t a clue what is going on.”

Harshly, Davy pulled from Dan. “Blow me.” He rushed to me. “Let me go. I’ll go with you, OK?”

“Davy, you stay here. Stay with Matty and Simon.” I kissed him softly on the cheek. “That’s your job. I promise I won’t be long. It’s not that far. OK?”

Davy nodded. It was evident by his expression that he agreed with defeat. Sam just stared at me. For a moment I took in all of their faces, before I lost all momentum and courage, I placed on my gloves and walked up the steps.

I would be less than honest if I said I wasn’t afraid to turn the doorknob. I was. Twelve days I had been in the basement shelter, never leaving it, not even to go upstairs into my own home. I hadn’t a clue what was ahead. Slipping my sunglasses on to protect from the sudden light, I opened the basement door.

It was quiet, almost too quiet, no sounds from downstairs carried to me at all. I closed the basement door and looked about my kitchen. The beams of daylight illuminated the thick fog of dust that floated in the air. With the exception of the broken window, and a toppled item or two, everything looked normal.

Turning to walk down the little entrance hall, in a reaction move, I stumbled back. The sunglasses did little to prevent the blast of light that blinded me. My arm shot to cover my face and I turned toward the wall. Daggers of pain pierced my eyes, and as I inhaled to wince away the pain, I inspired into my body, something I didn’t expect—a horrendous smell. Pungent and sour, my glands felt as if they immediately inflamed, saliva gushed into my mouth, and my throat retracted the gag.

Leaning my forehead toward the wall, I involuntarily ejected the overabundance of saliva from my mouth, and ran the back of my arm over my lips. I kept my eyes open and unshielded, taking a few moments to let them adjust to the light. But why was it so bright? I covered my nose with my hand, and I lifted my head. Like an overexposed picture, everything was painfully bright, losing all definition and color. I could see my front door; it was closed. So where was the brightness coming from? Another two steps and that answer was given to me.

To speak the words, ‘My God, what happened to my home,’ would have been an impossibility at that moment. My eyes watered, and the shock of it all suspended me into a solid stance. I couldn’t move.

I once had a bookshelf and table lamp in the front corner of my living room. They were gone. In fact, that entire corner was replaced with a huge gaping hole. Half of the sofa was buried beneath debris, and the fireplace mantel lay on the floor. It was a phenomenal sight to behold, like a set somewhere that you’d expect to see on movie sound stage. I would have been able to see my neighbor’s home through the hole if it wasn’t for the midsize red Chevy sedan. The front of the vehicle was partially in my home, while the remainder of the automobile, upside down, seemingly rested against my house. And with the discovery of the vehicle came the source of the odor; the driver of was still in the car. His decaying body was crushed against the steering wheel and his head pierced by the bits of broken windshield glass.

I had seen enough, and it was time to walk away, to leave. If such a horrendous vision perched itself literally in my home, I could only image the terror that was ahead.

12. Tent Three

Everything was gray. No color at all to the world, it was like I walked through a black and white film. I lived on a street where very little space separated each home. In some cases, this was a blessing as far as damage went; in other cases it was detrimental. I did not see a home on my street that wasn’t touched or tainted by the bombs in some way. In fact, the frame home across from mine, looked like a tilted domino between the homes on each side of it. I will say that somehow I was the destructive lottery winner, being the only home on the entire block with a car shoved into it. It puzzled me why the damage to my house came as such a shock. Perhaps it was the fact that Sam, Burke, Dan, Craig and Tammy had all ventured through my upstairs and not a single one of them mentioned the fact that a Chevy was parked in my living room. One would think this would be a tad of information I would like to know. Maybe they didn’t think much of it because they had seen far worse.

As I moved in the direction of the rescue station the damage was relatively the same to every house. A roof missing, a side of a building collapsed, windows shattered. Most un-repairable, but not as destructive as I had anticipated. Another thing I had noticed was I didn’t see any people. Somehow I expected to see wanderers, but I didn’t. At one point I thought I heard someone following me, and I even turned around prepared to yell at Davy, but no one was there.

The directions were simple. Craig said if I went to the top of my street, hung a left and kept walking, I would eventually run right into the rescue center. The time it took seemed to take forever, and I hoped I wouldn’t miss it. Craig made no mention of what building it was in. Even though I was in my own backyard—so to speak—I felt like stranger in a new land. Like Charlton Heston in the ‘Omega Man’, drifting through a barren, obliterated world, with no sounds, no people.

Deserted.

Those thoughts lasted only until I found the rescue center. I spotted it like an Oasis in the distance, and I realized how dense I was to think I could have missed it.

Buildings that had fallen were bulldozed out of the way. Tents—too many to count—were erected as far as the eye could see. But the tents were a nonentity in numbers compared to the carpet of people surrounding them.

In slow, zombie-like droves, people moved toward the station. It was only as I drew closer, that I realized that the humongous crowd was actually the waiting line. The check-in table was buried too far ahead to see. Some survivors had made their own little camps within the waiting area. Groups here and there. Like indigents, they huddled together, sharing a blanket while encircling a small fire. Crying, suffering. In passing them I tried to avoid eye contact, but that was fruitless, they all stared at me when I walked by them, as if I looked different in some way. Moans carried to me like bad music, people shoved and pushed. Others even grabbed me; I paid them no mind and forged ahead.

“Get to the back!” a man yelled, shoving me hard.

I was a billiard ball, bouncing off one person and into another. It was in the midst of the smells and pushes that I realized how right Burke and Craig were. We couldn’t have brought Sam to the station. No way. But right then I wasn’t there seeking aid for myself, I was there for medication. If I could only make it into the actual set up, surely I could find someone who could give me what I need.

I edged to my left, to my right; I used the tosses of my body to propel me further ahead. The sounds changed and that clued me in that I was nearing my destination. I could hear calls for ‘medication’, and ‘medic over here!’ I was almost there. My heart beat stronger, I moved more determined, keeping my focus ahead.

“Hey, watch it!” Someone screamed at me.

“Stupid bitch, I was here first!”

Wham!

Every ounce of air wheezed out of me when I felt the painful blow strike just below my ribcage. My knees buckled, everyone seemed to spin around me. I turned and saw the face of whom I guessed was my assailant. His face was bloody, dirty, his fist raised high in an aim at me.

I saw it coming, but by the grace of God I was shoved again. This time, it stumbled me forward. In a total state of pain and confusion, half unable to breathe, my hands reached out for someone, anyone, to help me regain my footing.

An arm. I felt an arm and I gripped it. My clasping fingers caused a shrill scream of agony, and had I not been wearing gloves I probably would have felt the reason for the cry. My eyes saw it at the same time my gloved hand sunk into the charred flesh of the woman I grabbed.

She jerked away her limb, leaving black, flaky remnants on my hand. My mouth opened in a long silent scream, as I backed up as fast as I could.

Then finally… air. With no crowd to forge into, I fell to the ground. Quickly, I picked myself up, and flung the glove from my hand, wiping my palm on the leg of my jeans as if the flesh oozed through the cloth of the glove. I wanted to cry out, but only an ache of a moan seeped from me as I did some sort of shuddering dance of disgust.

I had to grab my bearings. A mission had to be completed. Foregoing the glove, I turned around. It all had to be a nightmare. To question where all the people came from was inane. The answers were all around. Aside from the lines of individuals, military trucks hauled masses of injured into the camp. Dumping them carelessly like garbage onto tarps that lay upon the ground. Then just leaving them.

My mind was in a fantasy fog because I truly believed all I had to do was ask someone for help and they’d quickly oblige.

How wrong I was.

I set my sights on military personal and anyone who looked as if they were medically helping.

The first soldier I approached didn’t see me. The second looked my way for split second then brushed by.

Bodily I blocked people, calling out, just trying to get some attention. “Excuse me. Excuse me can you…”

Gone. They walked away.

Another individual spotted, I rushed to them. “Excuse me, can you tell me.”

“Lady, move.” He said then abruptly walked away.

I spotted a rectangular table perched just before a tent labeled ‘Three’. Two men sat there, and no injured appeared to be waiting in line. I found out why when I made my approach.

A soldier stopped me. “No civilians.”

“But I just need to ask something.”

“If you’re looking for an individual, then you need that table.” The soldier pointed to a line of tables, rows deep with people waiting.

“I’m not looking for someone, I’m looking for help.”

“Then go somewhere else,” he ordered. “This isn’t the place.”

“Can’t you just…”

“Go!” he said firm.

“Fine.” I took two steps back, huffed in frustration and spun. When I did, the flap to tent three opened and I saw inside. I caught glimpse of a doctor and knew that was where I had to go. Looking over my shoulder I checked on the soldier who instructed me to leave. When I saw he was busy, I darted in the tent.

My focus on the doctor immediately went elsewhere when I emerged inside. It was bigger than it appeared, and filled with cots. Not a single one of them empty. They lined from front to back, with barely any walking room between them.

I heard a rushed ‘excuse me’, and that snapped me from my stare. I turned, it was him. The doctor. At least he looked like a doctor. Younger, but no older than forty, he wore soiled hospital scrubs, his brown hair was a mess, and he moved with a rush. I followed him. He worked on a patient.

I stood across from him on the other side of the cart. “Excuse me.”

“Give me one CC…”

“I’m not a nurse.”

He finally looked up at me. “Are you looking for someone? Because I can’t help you.”

“No. See my husband is sick. And…”

“Is he in here? I’m sure I’ll get to him.” He aimed his voice elsewhere. “Nurse.”

“No, he’s home.”

“Nurse.” He called again for assistance. “What do you want?” he asked me.

“He’s needs help.”

“I can’t…” Disgusted, the doctor’s hands stopped moving. “Shit.” He shook his head and raised the sheet over the patient’s head.

I was mortified. A man died before me and I didn’t even notice. For a second I was caught in a stare of the covered body, and then I realized the doctor walked away. “Wait.” I pursued him.

He spoke as he walked backwards. “I can’t help you. Sorry.” He turned and went to another patient.

I wasn’t giving up. There had to be another health care worker in that tent. I started the search and then I spotted her. She was at the far end of the tent. “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Yu, an older Asian woman lived six houses up the street from me. I spoke to her only on occasion, usually a ‘how are you’, and I discovered her name when Matty sold her Girl Scout cookies. I’d wave to her often, when I saw her leaving for work, dressed in white. Mrs. Yu was in tent three. Not as a victim, but as a worker. She was a nurse. She knew me, she would help. Filled with optimism, I hurried her way.

She left one patient and moved to another.

“Mrs. Yu!” I called her. “Mrs. Yu.”

She glanced up, peered around, then focused again on her patient.

Out of breath, I arrived. “Thank God. Thank God. Mrs. Yu?”

She looked at me as if she didn’t know who I was.

“I’m Jo. Jo, your neighbor from down the street.”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded. “Please step back. This patient convulses.”

I moved back an inch. “Mrs. Yu. Can you help me? My husband Sam is sick. Very sick.”

“Where is he, I will go to him in a moment.”

“He’s home.”

“Then you need to bring him here.”

“He’s too sick to bring here.”

“Then I cannot help him,” she said firm, almost annoyed. She stepped to the next cart.

I followed. “Please.”

Mrs. Yu paid me no mind. I understood her focus, I did. I just needed her attention for one second. Her hands moved to the neck of a woman, and to the bandage there. As soon as Mrs. Yu lifted the bandage, like a fountain, a stream of blood shot up at her. She quickly recovered the injury. “Dr. Niles! Cot seven! Bleeder.”

I looked for whom she called, and saw it was the same doctor I had just spoken to.

“Look,” she spoke stern to me. “You are going to have to leave.”

I nodded and stepped away slowly.

“Jo.” Mrs. Yu called my attention. “You should be ashamed to come here with two healthy hands and ask for help when so much help is needed.”

I was so stunned and speechless over her words that I didn’t even notice Dr. Niles had bumped me back even further. If I felt bad when I got there, at that moment I felt even worse.

Hating to admit it, I had reached defeat. There had to be another way, but right there and then was not the place.

Until I started to leave. As if they were a glowing neon green they stole my attention. Open boxes were stacked four high on a table and created a pseudo shelf. It was clear that the boxes contained medication. A woman worked, pulling items from the boxes, and creating medication set-ups on a table before her.

I stepped closer, trying to be inconspicuous while I scanned box by box. But what I needed wasn’t in the boxes; it was on the table in a white industrial size jar. Even at a distance I was pretty sure the label read… Penicillin.

But how to get it. Remaining certain that I couldn’t ask, I had to think of a way. And then… salvation.

“Nurse, we need your help over here!” Dr. Niles yelled out. “Morphine, hurry!”

The woman at the table, grabbed something, and left her post.

I watched and waited until she joined Dr. Niles and Mrs. Yu, then I inched my way even closer to the medication. My eyes never left the trio. I was in utter debate on whether or not I should just go over and grab what I needed or wait until the woman returned. I contemplated a few seconds, and then I made up my mind. It had to be done. Dr. Niles, Mrs. Yu and the woman were busy. A soldier posted by the door hadn’t even noticed me. An opportunity was offered and I took it. I raced over to the table. Just a handful, that’s all I needed. Take them. Go.

My hand reached for the jar, and my heart nearly stopped when my wrist was grabbed. Shaking, I looked up. It was Dr. Niles.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked hard.

“Please, my husband is sick. He’s dying. He needs antibiotics. Please.”

Dr. Niles’ focus went elsewhere. It shifted slightly to his right.

The soldier had made his way over.

I closed my eyes. “Shit.”

“Everything all right?” the soldier asked Dr. Niles.

“No. No it’s not.” He released my wrist. “Get her out of here.”

The soldier grabbed hold of my arm and began to lead me.

“Wait.” I beckoned, trying not to go. “Please, Doctor. My husband is sick.”

Dr. Niles gave a single nod to the soldier. “Now. Get her out.”

No longer was a gentle escort in order, I felt the arms of the soldier wrap around me from behind and I was lifted with force from the ground.

“No!” While being carried out, I saw Dr. Niles look over. Acting on pure emotions, and without thinking, I cried out. “Why couldn’t you help me? You dick. You could have helped me. My husband is dying. Why couldn’t you help me?”

Surmounted with anger, sadness and failure, what I said and how I acted became a blur. Everything started blacking out, and before I knew it I was out of that tent.

13. All Good Things

I could have been arrested. I was grateful that I wasn’t. The soldier physically dropped me outside of the camp, in an area that could be considered a ‘back door’. He gave me orders to calm my ass down and go back home. Then he told me, ‘Don’t make me shoot you’. I was nearly positive he wasn’t serious, but I wasn’t going to take a chance. I ran.

It certainly was roundabout, taking me a good half-mile out of the way in my journey home. But there was a positive side; I was able to avoid the hoards of people. For some strange reason, no one even attempted to find a ‘backdoor’ to the camp. Maybe someone did, and they learned their lesson like me, that sneaking in was a useless move.

Making it to my street was a bit more difficult, not because of distance or obstacles, but because I began to ache. My side was sore from being punched, my knee bled from being thrown, and my body wasn’t used to walking any distance.

If I would have had the energy to jump up and down like Rocky when I reached my street, I would have. I felt a sense of victory, and had finally stopped being angry about failing. But something sparked in me again as I approached Mrs. Yu’s home. Not anger, not at all. I looked at her home, then at some of the houses around hers. I wondered if it was my imagination, or did Mrs. Yu’s home suffer the least damage? Was it a blessing from above, a payment for being such an angel of mercy at the rescue station? Other than a few broken windows, and scattered debris, her home was fine. Moving along, I stopped when they caught my attention. Mrs. Yu’s home, like everyone else’s, was covered with a thick gray dust, blown concrete laid about her lawn, along with ash. But amongst all that destitution, they remained—two red flowers.

It was amazing. Was it a symbol that life prevailed, or rather life was struggling to survive but lay buried beneath the rubble. I recalled how often I saw Mrs. Yu working on the garden. She took pride in her flowerbed. Always attentive, nurturing, in some ways the flowers were like her children. She enjoyed watching them grow, basking in the beauty of them. With diligence they tried to stand tall. Like some sort of message to Mrs. Yu, screaming, that they survived, her children were alive and well.

Without hesitation, I walked up to those flowers and yanked them out. Mean spirited or not, I felt a sense of justification, and I moved on.

My house was in view. I was almost there, and then… I saw Mark my neighbor.

He didn’t look well, not at all. He was sitting on his front steps and stood when he saw me. It felt odd the way he waited for me and it wasn’t as if he were waiting with open arms. He glared. His face burnt, clothes tattered, and even though Mark was six-foot-four, three hundred pounds to match, somehow he looked even bigger.

I kept moving.

Where was my head? Did I think it was just another day in May? I acted as if it were. Lifting my hand in a slight wave, I murmured out a, ‘Hey, Mark.’ and focused on my house.

Mark blocked my way. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

It was a strange thing to say to me, and it didn’t feel comfortable at all. “Um… thanks. Excuse me, I want to get home.” Twenty feet at most and I would have been home.

“That’s what I thought.” Mark grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me back.

“Hey.” I struggled with his fingers that not only gripped my arm, but lifted me some as well. “Stop it. You’re hurting me.”

“Where is my stuff?”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You took my stuff. Where is it?”

“I don’t…” I pulled at his hand. “Know what you’re talking about.”

“You took my things.” He stared hard at me. “Never mind, I’ll go get them myself.” With throw of his arm he tossed me aside.

I caught myself before I fell completely. Then I saw Mark turn and head to my house. “My kids. Oh shit.” Grabbing my stance, I charged after him with a drawn out, ‘No!’ Full speed I ran, doing the only thing I could think of to stop him—I leapt on his back as if my hundred pounds would hold him back.

He tried to shuck me from him, but I held tighter. Knowing full well it was wrong, I used my only debilitating option. My fingers gripped tight to the burnt portion of his face and I gnawed as deeply as I could.

My error.

Mark cried out, but not in pain. With an angry bellow, he grabbed hold of my head, and jerked his body and me.

I flew, and swore at that second my life passed before my eyes. I landed hard on my back and felt the sharp pain of concrete jam into me. When I opened my eyes, I saw Mark. He wasn’t heading to my home, he was raging toward me.

Through the corner of my eye I spotted it. A long rod of metal protruded from the ground. A pipe maybe, or piece of a porch, I didn’t know, but it was a weapon. My fingers extended, and just as I gripped it, Mark arrived.

I was able to get out one shrill, ‘Help!’ before Mark’s huge hand cascaded down to my throat.

He lifted me from the ground, and I dropped my metal rod. My legs kicked, I fought as best as I could. Mark shouted something at me, but I couldn’t hear him through the blood that rushed to my ears. Then with the emergence of a cloud of dust behind Mark, he dropped me. His arms went out and he stumbled a little to the left, when he did, I saw Davy.

I tried to tell Davy to run, but the words wouldn’t come out. Any injury I sustained, any hurt I experienced was second to the fact that Mark had turned and focused on my child.

I sought my metal rod, and lifted it. When I looked up, Davy had grabbed another chunk of concrete, but neither Davy nor myself were fast enough. Like a madman on a mission, Mark took hold of my son and threw him as if he weighed nothing.

“You son of a bitch!” I bolted his way swinging out the rod. “You son of a bitch.” I cracked that rod hard across his back, but Mark did not go down. He spun around, grabbed hold of me, and yanked the rod from my grip. He had me. Hand holding on to the metal weapon, his arm swung back, revving up like a warrior with an arrow. Ready to throw, to plunge. But in his fast outward motion, his arm halted. Something stopped him.

I heard Davy cry out, a painful, heartbreaking, ‘No!”

My entire being trembled, and when I saw, I thought my world had exploded all over again. Sam had brought an end to Mark’s attack of me… bodily. The end of the metal rod had impaled Sam center of his chest.

Sam’s arms went out, his body jerked and blood flowed from his mouth. His eyes made contact with mine, trying to covey some sort of message.

“Sam,” I wept.

Mark looked at what he had done, and then he took hold of the metal rod again.

“No!” I cried out. “Don’t pull it out!”

Too late.

Mark pulled the rod from Sam’s chest and Sam’s eyes never left mine as he fell in slow motion, face first to the ground.

I was still screaming out, “no!’ as I tried to get up. My body was out of control, and my head spun in confusion. Mark raged my way, too fast for me to move, to duck. The metal rod came cascading down…

Bang!

Mark froze. His head cocked up, and a slow trickle of blood rolled down his face from the bullet hole in his forehead. The rod dropped and then so did Mark.

I could not make heads or tails out of anything at that moment. I wasn’t comprehending that Davy was fine, it didn’t dawn on me that Burke had shot Mark, all I could think about was Sam. On hands and knees I scurried to him. Hoping against all hope that he was alive.

Sam didn’t move.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Afraid to touch him, my shaking hands hovered over his shoulders. Sam’s back was covered in blood. I could barely peep out his name through my tears. “Sam. Sam.”

Davy was right next to me. He was hysterical and was saying something I wasn’t able to hear.

“Let me.” Burke said in a whisper, then crouched down, inching me back. He took hold of Sam, and slowly turned him over. I watched as Burke’s hand moved to Sam’s neck, and then his eyes—glossed over—rose sadly to me. “Jo. Jo… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A scream erupted from me, long, aching and loud. I remember Burke reaching out for me, but that was the last thing I remember of that moment.

14. Where Now?

Sam was gone. He was really gone. A hole larger than the one in my living room was blown through my soul. It was incomprehensible. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, denial would be my direction. A part of me still didn’t want to believe it. How? How could Sam have died? My entire being screamed out, ‘Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ Sam and I had never been apart for long, and his death would be the farthest distance imaginable.

It was wrong. It wasn’t fair. It was Sam.

Sam.

No funeral. No viewing. A reverend didn’t say a prayer. No one said anything, we were all too speechless and in shock. One minute I was seeking help for him, the next we were putting him in the ground. That fast.

A humongous fight erupted right after Sam had died. I swore Burke was close to shooting Dan as well. He called Dan a coward and questioned why Davy a teenager, and Sam, a sick man, were out helping me, when Dan was able bodied. He blamed it on Dan. Dan blamed it on Burke, telling him he should have just gone with me to get Sam help. They were screaming at each other, venting their rage and sadness. Blame here. Blame there. Blame this. Blame that. They blamed everything but the one person they should have.

Me.

I was the one who was defiant. I left the shelter for help. I got myself in trouble. It was me. My fault.

The battle that raged between the two men was halted by my words and my daughter’s sobbing.

Poor Matty. Any progress made over the previous days was out the window. She curled in a ball, and steady for two hours, whimpered and cried out for her father. Over and over. “Daddy. Daddy.”

There was no consoling her. Davy was in shock, and remained silent. For security and comfort, he held on to Simon like a teddy bear. My family was in disarray.

A small speck of brightness made it into the madness of the day. Craig and Burke had success. Though they did not find Hebba, Rod and Nicky were alive. The only unfortunate part was, that Rod and Nicky’s safe arrival was jaded by the fact that Sam had been killed not one hour earlier.

Burke and Craig told of an unsuccessful search for Hebba, and how they sought the next person—Rod. Burke and Craig discovered him holed up for safety’s sake at his place of employment. It was after Rod was deemed absolutely fine, that Burke told me he felt uncertain, uneasy, and he didn’t trust that I would stay put. He left Craig and Rod to search for Nicky, and he came back—in the nick of time, too.

Physically Nicky was unscathed, but mentally she was as bad as Matty, Davy or myself. The news of Sam’s death worsened her. She sputtered words, not sentences, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

I was so very grateful for Rod’s presence. I needed him. He was my friend, and one of the only people who could bring a smile to my face, no matter what the circumstances. He had a way with words. Of course, a lot of that was because he was a writer. He knew exactly what to say and how. Another reason I was grateful for Rod, was because Rod was never without his fanny pack filled with prescription nerve medication. He had an ample supply; a variety of calming drugs that he boasted would cover any occasion. He accredited his fanny pack of pills for his immediate survival after the bombs. Then I accredited his fanny pack for my making it through that day.

Rod gave me one Valium, and that not only calmed me some, it made me sleep deep and long. The rest I desperately needed.

I woke hours later with Matty curled up by my side. She was sound asleep, so was Davy, Simon, and everyone else. Except Burke. I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, and that was a good thing. I needed to speak to him. Through all that had happened, he and I didn’t have a chance to sit ‘one on one’. I would steal that chance while I had it.

Thirsty, and not feeling my best, I had a few sips of water, then washed my face with the sanitizer gel. It always seemed to make me feel refreshed. Grabbing two strips of beef jerky, I searched for Burke.

He wasn’t on the steps, then I recalled him saying that since the radiation levels had fallen, he would do his night watch upstairs. So I went there.

I called out as a forewarning, then I made my way to the living room. It was the strangest of sights. As if the hole in my living room wasn’t odd enough, the newest vision was going to be a doozy to top. Because there wasn’t much of a wall, Burke was able to sit in my living room and on my porch at the same time. The car was gone. The openness to the night was seen, and Burke sat before a small campfire.

“You’re not… you’re not burning contaminated wood, are you?” I asked softly as I walked toward Burke.

“Nah. I got this from the basement.”

“I see you got rid of the car.”

“Wasn’t too tough,” Burke said. “Plus, I hope you don’t mind, I cleared out a few more bricks from this wall…” He exhaled as he gazed to where the window used to be. “Yep. Now it’s an indoor-outdoor deck. What do you think?”

“I think it’s gonna take some getting used to, having a campfire in my living room.”

“Pretty cool though.” Burke pulled up a crate next to him. “Sit with me, Jo.”

“That’s why I’m here.” I sat down. “Jerky?” I extended him one.

“Thanks.” Burke took it.

“Everyone’s asleep. It’s not even nine. Can you believe that?” I made idle conversation.

“Everyone had a rough day.” He broke his jerky. “Everyone. How… how are you?”

“I’m doing.”

There was silence, then Burke grunted and rubbed his hand over his face with frustration. “God. I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t. I’m sorry, Jo. I am so…”

“Burke.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “If I would have just went with you. If I didn’t go. If I came back just a little sooner.”

“Stop it.” I grabbed his arm. “Just stop. All the ‘what ifs’ in the world aren’t gonna change what happened, no matter how badly we wished it could. It’s not your fault, Burke.”

“It’s not yours either, Jo.”

“I feel like it is.”

“I think for a time being, we’re all gonna be blaming ourselves.” He paused. “Well, maybe not Dan.”

I smiled slightly.

“However,” Burke continued. “I think it’s normal. But really, Jo. No one is to blame. Things…”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Burke asked.

“Don’t say it. Don’t say, ‘Things happen for a reason.’”

“How do you know I was gonna say that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Burke said.

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I had something else to say.”

“Fine, then say it.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “Things… things happen for a reason.”

I growled. “I knew it.”

“They do, Jo. Like it or not. And here’s something else that you may not want to hear.”

“What’s that?” I asked, resting my face against my hand.

“As fucked up as this sounds, things in this world are different. Circumstances are different. We, no matter how bad we feel, we’re gonna have to get past this. Move on.”

“Don’t you think you could have waited a few days before you said that?”

“Nope.” Burke shook his head with an assured look. “Because we have nothing anymore to fall back on. We can only move ahead, that’s our only direction. There’s too much to do. You planned a lot. You can put your grief to work. Work it out of you. But we can’t have you being a mourning fuckin’ Mary. It won’t be good for you, the kids, or the morale of anyone around you. Understand?”

“Mourning fucking Mary?”

Burke grunted. “You get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks.” I sighed out. “I’ll still miss him.”

“Me too,” Burke said sadly.

“Burke? I’m sorry you didn’t find Hebba.”

“So am I.”

I glanced at him with a puzzled look. “Really?”

“What?” he asked shocked. “Yes. I can’t believe…” Suddenly Burke sprang to his feet and took a step forward.

“Burke.”

“Shh.” He told me, then raised his shotgun and pumped the chamber. “Stop!” he hollered. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

Burke held his aim steady, but I couldn’t see the recipient.

A male voice responded composed, “I’m not here for trouble. I’m… I’m looking for a woman named Jo.”

“Who are you?” Burke asked.

“My name is Tanner Niles. I’m a doctor. I saw her today at the rescue station.”

“Jo?” Burke whispered my name. “Know him?”

I peeked around Burke and saw the doctor. “Yeah, I recognize him.”

Burke lowered his weapon.

Tanner moved toward us.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Looking for you.” Tanner replied. “I felt bad. Really bad about what happened today. I’m not usually like that. I was overwhelmed. I would have been here sooner, I wanted to come sooner, but this was the first break I could get. And it really took some effort to get information from your neighbor about finding you.” The left side of his mouth lifted in a partial smile.

“You came all the way up here to apologize?” I was puzzled.

“Well, yes, but not only for that reason. I came here to do what I should have done earlier. Help you.” He extended his hand to me. “Here. This is what you wanted.” His fingers wrapped around a small bottle.

I didn’t reach.

“It’s Ok.” He nodded. “Take them. It’s penicillin. I can even check on your husband if you want.”

“Dr. Niles…”

“Tanner.” He corrected.

“Dr. Niles.” I found the words difficult to speak. Reaching out, I gently pushed his hand away. “I’m sorry you came all the way here. My husband… he died.”

Tanner retracted his hand causing the pills to rattle within the bottle. He didn’t say anything. Mouth closed tightly, his eyes shifted from me to Burke. He gave a single, solemn nod, then Tanner Niles, turned and walked away. Never looking back at us, he kept moving up the dark street, in a slow, steady pace, until the blackness engulfed him and he was no longer seen.

15. Accounted For

Acceptable became a word associated with the past. Too many things had changed, and nothing would ever be done the same again. I wanted to give Sam a Native American send off, setting his physical being aflame, allowing for his spirit to be free and rise to the heavens with the release of the smoke. However, the spiritual smoke signal would be a detrimental signal, alerting wanderers and looters that an isolated camp of survivors existed. Plus, with an increased risk of infection and disease, we had to place Sam in the ground immediately following his passing.

We needed a send-off, a goodbye, and we gave him one. The following morning we all stood around where we had buried Sam—all but Tammy, who had yet to return from the search for her son. Each of us said a few words about Sam. We ended it with a small prayer service. None of us were particularly religious people, so Dan officiated the ceremony. Not because he was a staunch Catholic, but for nine weeks he played the role of a Catholic priest in a local theater production, so Dan knew the prayer service by heart.

“For with the Lord there is merciful and plentiful redemption…” Dan recited the prayer, “And he shall redeem Israel from all iniquities. Eternal rest grant upon him, oh, Lord…”

Burke and I were the only ones who chanted the response of, ‘And let your perpetual light shine upon him.’

“May his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God… rest in peace.” Dan released a long, soft sigh and bowed his head. “Amen.”

It worked. Real prayers or acting, it served a purpose and brought a sense of ‘pre bomb’ funeral that we all needed at that very moment.

With solace we departed Sam’s grave. I held on to my children, and Simon, and led the pack. Admittedly I did have to smile when I heard Rod comment to Dan on how beautiful of a service he delivered. We all returned to the shelter. Not Burke. He wanted to ‘check on something’ as he put it, and would return in fifteen minutes. What he was up to, we didn’t know.

I was looking at my ‘I’ll be there’ list when Burke returned. Examining the names, the two that remained missing. I hated to do it, but it was necessary. I put next to Sam’s name, the day that he passed away.

“OK, here’s the deal,” Burke announced. “Jo, can I have you over here?”

I mumbled, a ‘huh?’ then looked over my shoulder, Burke had gathered everyone around. Even the kids sat on the floor listening. I don’t know how I missed his first calling. Deep in thought, I suppose. Closing my notebook, I walked over and joined them. “Sorry.” I sat next to Davy.

Burke continued, “Tomorrow marks two weeks since the bombs. Now we all know Jo has preached to us to wait out the two weeks. So I’m hoping that Hebba is following that rule somewhere. Tammy’s kid, too. What I want to do is give it one more week. One week for Hebba and Mona, even though I think she’s toast. One week, then we follow the plan. We go to the cabin and leave a note here for anyone that shows up. Now, in the meantime, things are crowded here. So, I want to use Jo’s plan and move us all over to Mark’s house. Live there, make this a central station for supplies, and use the week to get things ready for the move.”

Craig raised his hand. “Is Mark’s basement big enough?”

Burke chuckled. “His house is huge. His basement is decked out. No offense Jo, but this is a basement. Plus, the radiation levels are low now, if they fall even more, there’s no reason we should have to stay underground. Jo, what do you think?”

I didn’t feel much like talking, thinking, or planning. My mind was full yet empty all in the same breath. I learned very quickly that all the planning in the world doesn’t prepare you for the emotional trauma suffered when something goes wrong. I nodded to Burke. That was my agreement and the best I could do. My mind slipped into what I called ‘connect the dot’ thoughts. Random pictures, words, memories that somehow from a distance formed a picture, but to put them together to make sense, took far too much effort. With a half ear I listened to Burke. Mainly I shut out most of what he said because he kept mentioning ‘Jo’s plan’. Suddenly everything I detailed on the pages of a notebook seemed foreign, as if I never derived any of it. In fact, I wished that Burke would stop referring to it as my plan, because it wasn’t. Not anymore. My plan never included the bombs actually falling, or people not showing up. And my plan certainly didn’t include Sam dying. If it were my plan I wouldn’t be sitting in my basement or living in a world that would be no less than a nightmare for the rest of my life.

* * *

Never did it dawn on me. Not once. If it hadn’t been for inquisitive Simon, I may have realized my error too late. A simple conversation entailed between Simon and Davy while they organized the rations once again. I sat with Matty who drew a picture, and I seesawed between her art and eavesdropping on the boys.

“Tomorrow?” Simon asked.

“No, Simon,” Davy answered sadly. “Not tomorrow or the next day. Sam is not coming back.”

“Like my dad?”

“Your dad is lost,” Davy explained. “Remember how I told you about Sam. Sam died, Simon. Like your hamster.”

“I liked my hamster.”

“Me, too.”

“I liked Sam,” Simon said.

I watched Davy pause in his counting, and look at Simon. “Me, too.”

“Davy,” I called him, maybe to see if he needed a rescue from the conversation. “Do you want me to read to Simon?”

Davy shook his head. “No, we’re fine. Right buddy?”

“Yeah.” Simon nodded. “But sad. Sam was sick, huh?”

“Yes,” Davy answered.

Then he did it. Simon asked that one innocent question. “Did he die because he didn’t get his pill?”

Before Davy answered, my head lifted, my eyes widened, and I whispered out in revelation, “Oh, my God.”

“Mom?” Davy questioned my reaction.

“Davy, watch Matty for me.” I kissed my daughter, told her that I would be back, and then I stood up.

“Mom, where are you going?” Davy asked.

I stopped in my reach for the curtain. “There’s something I want… .no, something I need to do.”

I departed from the partitioned area giving no explanation to Davy. Undoubtedly I left my son puzzled, but Simon would divert that curiosity. I told Burke my intentions and what I had to do. He told me bluntly, ‘let it go’ it wasn’t worth it. But to me it was. It had to be done, even if it was only for my peace of mind.

* * *

“Tell me again,” Rod spoke as we walked. “Why are we going to the rescue station? You hated it there.”

“Because I have to. Leave it at that. We’re almost there.”

“I don’t see any people.”

“That’s because we’re going in the back way,” I said.

“Why do you have me doing the masculine job of protecting you?” Rod asked. “Really, Jo, Burke would have been the better choice.”

“It was either you protecting my life, or protecting the life of my kids.”

Rod nodded. “You have a point. Jo, will this be a horrible experience. Lots of death? Sick people.”

“Of course.” Recognizing a landmark, I gained confidence that we were almost there. “It’s right through…” I stopped and looked. Rod wasn’t with me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him a few feet behind me reaching into his fanny pack. “What are you doing?” I asked and walked to him.

“I need a Valium.”

“Don’t take a valium.” I pulled his hand away from his bag. “You may need them later, then what? You’ll be out.”

“You’re right. What about a Prozac instead?”

“No drugs.” I lifted my hand in a halt manner. “This is it. Listen.”

“I’m too busy smelling that God awful smell.” His hand covered his nose.

“Why don’t you wait here? It’s right through these trees.” I pointed. “Unless you want to come.”

Muffled, Rod spoke while his hand still covered his nose and mouth. “No, go on, I’ll wait for them to throw you back out.”

I gave him a disgruntled look before heading into the rescue station area. Being caught, stopped, or even thrown out wasn’t a concern of mine. I believed I wouldn’t be noticed, and I was right. Given that my composure was such that I knew exactly where I was going and what I was doing, no one said anything, or paid any attention to the fact that I walked right in.

Tent three was my starting point. I found it with ease since it was the closest tent to the back door area. Knowing that sneaking in the side of the tent would draw notice to me, I walked around to the front. When I did, I bodily paused. There was something about the sight of it all that was breathtaking in a negative way. So many people, that one couldn’t even begin to keep track of them all. The mass confusion of the rescue station was still predominant, but somehow not as bad as the day before. Continuing on my mission, I reached for the flap, it was then that I spotted my true destination going into the next tent. So I followed him.

Dr. Tanner Niles.

I slipped unnoticed beyond any soldiers, and walked into the tent. It didn’t take much scanning around to find him; he was at the medication table. Something was different about Tanner. He didn’t look as frazzled, or work with as much haste.

He stared at a clipboard as he moved from the medication table and blindly made his way through the cots. From the opposite end, I walked up the same aisle as he, hoping Tanner would spot me somewhere in his journey. When he paused at a cot and lowered his clipboard, he did. He titled his head in question as I continued to head his way.

“Do you… do you remember me, Dr. Niles?” I asked.

“Of course.” He nodded. “Jo.”

“Dr. Niles, do you have a few seconds, I know it is…”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation or allowing me to finish. “But call me Tanner.”

“Tanner.” I gave him a peaceful smile. “You seem different today.”

“Yes, well, sometimes things happen that make you think.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, no.” I closed my eyes.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I am so, so, sorry.” I finally opened my eyes and looked at him. “I am so…”

“Jo, why are you apologizing?”

I took a deep breath. “Yesterday, you went out of your way to correct a wrong. Today, I am here to do the same.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tanner, I’m sorry. I let you to leave last night without explaining how my husband died. See, there was some trouble, and he tried to stop it. The infection didn’t take his life, Sam was killed. I know you’re probably thinking, ‘OK’, and you probably didn’t give it a second thought. But I couldn’t with a clear conscience…”

“I did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I did think about it. It was on my mind all night,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. Thank you. Thank you for clearing that up.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tanner nodded. “Well, I’d better…”

“Yes. Work. I’m sorry I kept you.” I started to leave, but stopped. “Tanner? If you ever get a break, and want an escape from this place… you know where I am. Find me. You’re welcome there. I mean it.”

“I’d like that.” Tanner smiled then shifted his eyes down to the clipboard. “Shit. I’m in the wrong row.” He backed up. “I’ll see… I’ll see you soon, Jo.”

About all I had time to do was lift my hand in a wave. Tanner had made his way from the row. I felt better about it all. About walking to the station, finding Tanner, clearing the air. With a feeling of resolution, I took a step back, turned to leave and nearly shrieked in surprise when a hand slammed down and grabbed my wrist.

It wasn’t a soldier that snatched hold of me; it was a patient on a cot. Slowing my rapid heartbeat, I glanced to the fingers with the chipped mauve nail polish. They gripped tight to my skin with amazing strength, nearly cutting off all circulation. “Do you need…” I started to ask but then I noticed. The hand of the woman was the only portion of her arm that wasn’t burnt. As my eyes scanned her arm, the burns worsened, going from purple and bleeding, to black. The sight of the woman horrified and sickened me. My heart ached. There was a blanket; it came to only her waist. Her entire torso was exposed, and if it weren’t for the nail polish, I wouldn’t have known she was a woman. Her chest was severely burned, a portion of her lower ribcage protruded, and it appeared as if her breasts had begun to char off. I saw her other arm, it was fine. Not a scratch on it. Part of her neck was unscathed as well. “You poor thing, do you…”

When I saw her face, I froze. A lump big enough to choke me formed in my throat.

Muffled, yet interpretable she peeped out in pain, “Jo… help me.”

“Oh, my God.” Though one entire half of her face was burnt beyond recognition, the other half allowed me to discover her identity. “Hebba.”

16. Decisions

I sobbed. Plain and simply, no other way to put it, I sobbed. Halfway home, I had to stop. Weakened, my body did not want to move, I couldn’t think, everything swarmed, I sat down, buried my face in my hands, and I broke. I stayed there too, in Rod’s comforting silence, until I was able to continue on.

What occurred in the rescue station was more of a shock than I was able to bear. I hid it well, and stayed strong. For Hebba’s sake I couldn’t let her see how much the sight of her was killing me. I held her hand, huddled close, told her everything would be all right, and that I would go get Burke, immediately I would get him.

I was able to catch Tanner’s attention, telling him I had found my friend, or rather my friend found me. He took the time to help move Hebba’s cot off to the side, and then Tanner did the best he could and gave her something for the pain.

He said, “Give it a few minutes, Jo, it should work. Hopefully. It’s all we have.”

Hebba clutched tightly to my hand, squeezing with every wave of pain she experienced, crying my name out, crying for help that I could not give. I stayed there and assured her that I would be back with Burke.

I couldn’t wait to leave the tent. Not because I wanted to leave Hebba, but because it was far too much to handle. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would feel that way. Pity, sorrow, heartache, all for a woman whom two weeks earlier rubbed everyone the wrong way. But nothing… nothing Hebba ever did warranted the torture she was going through. It was wrong and unfair. Had she been that way for two weeks? How in the world Hebba survived was inconceivable. Perhaps she held on, fought tooth and nail with the fire and strength she had, just to stay alive until she was found. The pain and agony she endured made my pain and agony seem miniscule. The entire situation brought to light a selfishness I didn’t even know I had. The simple fact that I stood not one foot from her and didn’t know she was there, said it all. I didn’t see her. In fact, I didn’t see anyone in that tent or around me. Maybe because the people in that tent, and in the camp, weren’t part of my world. I saw them as two different entities. But all of that changed in an instant. It hit me like a sledgehammer, and it was too much for me to take. The second Hebba fell asleep, I fled from the tent. I ran, not only until Rod caught up to me, but until it all caught up to me.

Huddled on the ground, my floodgates opened. My body shook, and the tears flowed from me. I cried, not just for Hebba, but for everything. For Sam, my family, those I knew that were lost, and for those I didn’t know. There weren’t enough tears to wash away all the pain, and all the wrong. There would never be enough tears.

* * *

‘An old man from down the street, stopped by for a cup of water.’ Those were the words Davy greeted me with when I returned to the shelter. Then I guess he looked at me and saw my face.

“Mom? You OK?”

To say I was dazed would be an understatement. “Yes, where’s Burke?”

“Outside with Craig,” Davy answered. “Anyhow, the old man stopped for water, and wanted to trade for a can of soup. Dan said not to, but I gave him water. Was that OK?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Burke’s outside?” I pointed backwards with my thumb, then turned to go up the steps.

“Mom? Did you hear me?”

Irritated, I spun around. “Davy! Right now I have more important things to worry about than some old…” I stopped speaking when I heard my own words. “Davy, was he alone?”

“When he came here?” Davy asked then nodded. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you take Dan and see if you can find him. See if he’s OK, if he needs anything, and if he wants to join us.”

Dan immediately jumped from behind his curtain. “I object to that. First, we don’t need any strangers. Second, I don’t want to go out there, tell Davy to take Rod.”

I wasn’t in the mood to argue, however I did sound irritated when I spoke. “Rod just came back, and this is my home, Dan. I can invite whomever I want. OK? Davy, take Rod instead.”

Rod raised his hand, “May I take a valium first?”

“No. No drugs.” I instructed, then again, tried to go up the steps.

Nicky and my daughter had unofficially created the ‘quiet club’, so when either one of them talked, it drew attention. From behind a partition, Nicky walked out and spoke, “Can I go with him, Jo?” she asked. “I need to do something positive. That would be positive.”

My eyes shifted from Rod to her. “Yes, but I still would like Rod to go. Safety in numbers.”

I received Nicky’s agreement, and seized the opportunity to leave. It was a task I didn’t look forward to. No matter how many ways I rehearsed it in my mind, there was no delicate way to tell Burke about Hebba.

No sooner did I walk around to the back of my house and I saw Burke in Mark’s yard. My insides shook, and I was scared to death. He was wrestling with Mark’s small tool shed. He’d bang against the shed with his body, pull at it, and bang it again. Arms folded tight to me, I walked over. “Burke.”

Burke slammed into the shed.

“Burke, I need to speak to you.” I inched closer.

“I’m kind of…” He grunted as he hit into shed again. “Busy.”

“I see that, but this…”

“I want to get this loosened, Craig’s almost done digging.”

Instantly, I looked. My focus had been so much on Burke; I failed to see Craig digging in my backyard. I knew what he was unearthing. At the beginning of the previous summer, we had dug a coffin size hole in the backyard. In that hole we had placed large water bottles. We had purchased one bottle a week until we filled that hole. We covered it with a sheet of plywood, and buried it.

“Why?” I asked. “Is Craig digging up our water? We don’t need it yet, do we?”

“No.” Burke struggled his words, working on the tool shed. “We’re putting the bottles in the basement, because we need the hole.”

“For?”

“The outhouse.” He stayed preoccupied with his mission. “If we have an outhouse, we can use all the undrinkable water for washing. So we’re…” Burke sighed out when the shed shifted an entire foot. “Ah, there.” He brushed off his hands. “We’re taking this bad boy putting it over the hole and making it a…” he finally looked at me. “What’s wrong? You were crying. Did something happen?”

“Yes.” I felt my insides tremble, and my eyes water. I reached down and grabbed his hand, turning it palms up. Curiosity screamed through his eyes, until I laid in his hand a gold wedding band. When I knew that he recognized it, I laid my hand over his and squeezed. “I know where Hebba is.”

* * *

There is a suspension of disbelief when it comes to a painful truth. No matter how much a person is forewarned, a protective barrier prevents them from fully comprehending the ‘bad’ until they are faced with it. I knew in my heart and in my mind, that it didn’t matter what I told Burke, when he saw the extent of Hebba’s condition, it would hit him like a tidal wave, bolt him over, and leave him disoriented.

My strong friend went through various channels of emotions and reactions when I told him. He was shocked, then didn’t believe. He raged from guilt over not finding her to anger that she was lumped into a massive conglomerate of nameless, faceless people.

After informing the others that we wouldn’t be long, Burke and I headed off. We were able to jumpstart a pickup truck that wasn’t completely encased or covered with rubble. Not that we needed to drive there, we needed the truck. Our sole purpose in going to the rescue station wasn’t just to see Hebba, it was to get Hebba and bring her back.

I know how Burke felt. I didn’t need to guess or to try to imagine. I was there not twenty-four hours earlier with Sam. Internally, I was certain what Burke would feel, but outwardly I was unsure. What would his initial reaction be?

Stepping into the tent brought a whole new vision of the war to Burke. He, like me, was so focused on our group we didn’t think about anyone else. But unlike me, Burke saw the victims the split second he walked inside. The dark color of his eyes seemed to absorb all the white, as Burke kept his eyes squinted. His views shifted—slow but edgy—from one cot to the next. I watched as his thick neck grew red and his jaw muscles tensed up.

I grabbed his arm and whispered, “This way.”

Burke turned to look at me. His eyes, the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead, his expression, they all screamed at me as if to say, ‘This can’t be real.’

I led him only a few steps and he stopped. Burke’s head cocked, and he swallowed so predominantly, his entire neck moved. I could tell he saw Hebba, even though she was a good twenty feet away. He saw her. Immediately, he pulled from my lead and rushed over, zigzagging his body between the cots.

I hurried behind him, losing my breath from anxiousness instead of movement. I wanted to be there as a sense of support for when he saw her. Somehow a part of me expected him to cry out. To yell at the top of his lungs, and curse God, man, the government—anything. Burke didn’t.

In such a loss of what to do, Burke’s hands lifted momentarily over Hebba, then Burke dropped down to one knee and his head fell forward to the cot.

Silence.

* * *

Taking Hebba from the rescue station wasn’t as easy as just picking her up and bringing her with us. Her physical condition was delicate, and in order to move her we had to move her while she was on the cot. A hindrance that Burke and I assumed would lessen with the arrival of the evening hours. I thought that maybe I could pull some strings with my newfound acquaintance Tanner Niles. But that brainstorm quickly departed because Tanner wasn’t in the tent, and looking for him wasn’t an option.

We decided to wait until nightfall, hoping that Hebba could hold on until then. In the meanwhile I had to go and check on my family. It was my reasoning for leaving, along with excuse. I couldn’t stay at the rescue station another minute. Not with all the sickness, the death, Hebba crying out in cat-like screams, and Burke just staring with a cold expression. Burke and I talked some. Not much, but enough to convey the needed plan.

I expected to be bombarded with questions when I returned to the shelter. To my surprise, not only was it quiet, but Rod was playing watchdog, holding Burke’s shotgun at the bottom of the basement stairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked Rod. “It’s quiet.”

“Craig’s next door. Dan’s preparing a delightful split pea soup for us all and Nicky is playing kindergarten teacher.”

“What?”

“Curtain number two.” Rod pointed.

I followed Rod’s instructions and walked to the second partition area. “I’m back.” I called out, opening the curtain. Upon entering I saw what Rod meant. Nicky had Davy, Matty, and Simon on the floor before her. Empty baby food jars were sprawled about, and the bag of topsoil was neatly opened.

“Look, Jo.” Nicky smiled pleasantly, and spoke eerily upbeat. “We’ve started the seedlings. Craig said radiation levels have fallen enough to place the jars in the sunlight. Get them growing so we can take them to the cabin and be farmers. Right kids?”

Simon brightly looked at me. “I’m planting peas.”

“Are you? Good boy.” I said. “What a good job. Matty? What are you planting?”

Matty brought her one shoulder nearly to her ear in a half-shrug. She murmured, “Corn.”

“Davy?” I asked.

Less than enthused, Davy answered, “Oats.”

“And I’m planting carrots.” Nicky smiled. “This was a great idea on your part, Jo. Really.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t know how to react to Nicky’s behavior. I wondered if it was a front for the kids.

“Jo? How’s Hebba?” Nicky asked. “Was she happy to see Burke? Tell her we hope she gets well, and we’re getting a nice room ready for her next door at our new home. Aren’t we kids? Do you think she’ll like that, Jo?”

Did Nicky seriously expect me to answer? My mouth opened, and I couldn’t even speak. Hope she gets well?  Nice room? Our new home? The best I could do was muster up a nod and step out of the area.

No sooner did I do so, and Davy followed.

“Mom.” He breathed out. “She is gone.”

“Davy, when did she…” As I turned to Davy, I caught glimpse of Rod on the stairs. “Rod? Did you give Nicky something?”

“Nope.” Rod shook his head. “Don’t blame me. Blame the old man from down the street.”

“Davy?” I questioned. “What does he mean?”

Davy shrugged. “It was the weirdest thing, Mom. We went down to find the old man. We did. But he didn’t want to come. Nicky started talking really nice to him to try to convince him. Since then she hasn’t stopped talking perky.”

I gave a quirky look. “Well, that is really strange.”

Rod interjected, “I blame her for the old man not joining us. He’s probably scared.”

“Should I be?” I asked. “She’s with my kids.”

Rod flung out his hand in a ‘don’t be silly’ fashion. “She’s fine.”

At that moment the cellar door opened unexpectedly. It startled me some, and I looked when I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

“Halt.” Rod lifted the shotgun. “Who goes there?”

“You’re not funny,” Craig said then finished coming down the steps. “Put down the gun or I’m telling Burke. Hey, Jo…” He approached me. “I thought I heard you. Where’s Burke?”

“He’s still at the rescue station.”

“Still?” Craig looked puzzled. He walked directly over to the ‘clean-up’ section of the basement. “Did Rod tell you that Tammy radioed?”

“No.” I followed Craig, Davy tagged behind. “Is she all right?”

“I guess. She didn’t find her son, but she has news. She said she won’t say over the radio and when she tells us tomorrow we’ll know why.” Craig stood before the double stationary tub. “Dan? Can you?”

“Oh, sure.” Dan stepped away from the pot where lunch was cooking. He bent down to under the stationary tub and lifted a bucket. From it he pulled a turkey baster, and squeezed the bulb, exasperating water into it. Craig stood by the sink, then Dan proceeded to unload the baster of water slowly over Craig’s extended arms and hands.

“Thanks.” Craig accepted the ‘clean up’ towel from Dan.

“No, problem.” Dan replaced the bucket and returned to cooking.

“So…” As he spoke, Craig proceeded to do what we called ‘phase two’ of the cleaning process—the sanitizer. “What’s going on with Hebba? You didn’t say much when you left.”

Dan stepped forward to the conversation. “Except you found her and she was burnt.”

“Is she bad, Mom?” Davy asked.

I looked upon the eyes that awaited my answer. Exhaling heavily, I reached for a chair and sat down. “It’s awful. She is so… so bad.”

“Well,” Dan cleared his throat. “Then I don’t understand why we’re getting ready for her. Why not leave her at the station. If she’s that bad, she’s going to die anyway.”

“Dude.” Davy snapped. “You’re such an asshole.”

Shaking my head, I only mumbled out my retaliatory response, which I was certain no one could understand. “That’s the plan.”

“What?” Dan asked.

“Never mind.” I shook my head again.

Craig pulled up a chair and sat down. “Jo, she can’t be dying. I know things probably just seem bad…”

“She is, Craig.” I cut him off. “There is no way she can live. You should see her. Oh, my God. There are some parts of her body that were just…” I tensed up. “Gone. Burnt off.”

Craig drew silent. He slowly sat back in his chair. “There has to be a mistake.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked hard. “I was there. I saw her. Are you saying I’m exaggerating?”

“No. No.” Craig held up his hand. “Did you think about it, though? Jo, the rescue station just opened. The bombs fell two weeks ago. Without proper medical attention, care, shelter, with burns that severe, how in the hell did Hebba survive two weeks? It doesn’t make any sense. None at all.”

Craig was right. But what could I say? How could I respond? Nothing made sense anymore. Hebba. The world. Nothing. And second-guessing, or questioning wasn’t going to help or give answers that just weren’t there. Unfortunately we were in a new phase of living. Accept and move on, that’s all we could do.

* * *

Tanner Niles looked like a heavenly figure, maybe even an angel, when he walked into the tent. He wasn’t a tall man, yet he towered above the cots that only came to his thighs. He was wearing unsoiled hospital scrubs, his hair was wet, and Tanner held an entire air of ‘refreshed and clean’. He was a complete contrast as he waded through a river of darkness. Encircled by cots and makeshift beds, patients covered by stained and dirty linens, Tanner was like a speck of light in the midst of all the black.

I had arrived at the station just before dark, and was there an hour with Burke before Tanner showed up. In fact, immediately upon his entrance, he caught my attention away from my conversation with Burke.

“Jo?” Burke called my name.

“I’m… sorry.” I withdrew from my stare of Tanner.

Burke peered over his shoulder, spotted Tanner then returned to me. “OK, I still don’t understand why you need to talk to him.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and fiddled some with Hebba’s blanket. “Maybe he can stop us from getting in trouble or something when we take her.”

“It’s a waste. He doesn’t know you, he probably can care less. So no getting pissed when he blows you off.”

“I understand. I’ll be back.” I inched away then stopped. Over Hebba I leaned to Burke, bringing my face close, connecting our eyes to convey my seriousness. “Burke? Are you sure? Are you really sure?”

Burke looked at me, then down to Hebba. His saddened eyes raised my way again. “There’s no choice. You know it, she knows it… I know it.”

Quietly I slipped back, saying no more. Walking around the cot, I noticed that Tanner had spotted me. He looked over my way with a quizzical expression that seemed to question my being at the rescue station. As I moved his way, he held up a finger, gave a single nod, lifted the ends of his stethoscope to his ears and turned toward a patient. I waited.

It didn’t take him long to do what he needed to do. A paper dangled from a string on the edge of the patient’s cot, Tanner lifted it, wrote something down, and then turned again. Before I could take a step to shorten the distance that separated us, Tanner caught my attention, gave a motion of his head to the left, and pointed outward.

Figuring he was conveying that he had to leave again, I nodded and turned. In making my way back to Hebba, it didn’t take long for Tanner’s hand to startle me when it lay upon my shoulder.

“Jo.”

I jumped, spun around and grabbed my chest. “You scared me. I thought you were leaving.”

Softly he chuckled, “I was trying to get you to come outside with me.”

“Oh.” I was slightly embarrassed, but only for a second, then I became confused. “Why?”

“You wanted to talk to me about your friend, right?” he indicated to Hebba.

“Yes, I did.”

“Then come outside. Please.”

“What about Burke?”

Tanner glanced over to Burke. After exhaling heavily, he looked at me with raised eyebrows and whispered, “Come outside.”

‘Oh boy,’ was the only response I could give.

I felt Tanner’s hand barely rest upon my back in guidance, and I looked over to Burke. Burke was engrossed. In thought maybe, or even prayer, either way he didn’t notice I was leaving, so I continued in my exit with Tanner.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we stepped outside. I don’t know why it surprised me or even was deserving of my attention, but when Tanner lit up a cigarette, I was taken aback.

He extinguished the match with a shake of his hand, then blew out the smoke from his hit. “Jo, I…”

“You smoke,” I stated in shock.

“Huh?” He glanced down to his cigarette and chuckled. “Oh. Yeah.” He nodded. “But I guess not for long. My resources are limited. Anyhow… back to why I brought you out here.”

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“About your friend. You don’t need a doctor to tell you that it’s bad. Aside from being severely burnt, the woman is suffering from radiation sickness.”

I blinked slowly in confusion. “You… You brought me outside to tell me that.”

“No, I brought you out here to tell you something else.” Tanner hit his cigarette again. “Have you looked at her, Jo? Really looked at her. Her burns are fatal. The chances of someone surviving such burns, even with the best medical treatment, are slim to none. The chances of surviving under these conditions for longer than a few days are nil.”

“Then how did she survive two weeks?” I asked.

“She didn’t,” Tanner explained. “Her burns, Jo. Are fresh.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“When we met yesterday, I was frazzled.”

“You were busy.”

“I was more than that.” A tone of sadness took over Tanner’s voice. “I was angry. Bitter. Confused. Enough lives had been lost, enough people had been hurt. Did we have to cause more?” he shook his head. “They started burning bodies yesterday. Just before you arrived, they brought in nine patients. Nine people that were mistaken for dead and thrown…”

“Oh, my God.” My eyes closed.

“Your friend was one of the people they threw in the fire.”

It hit me instantaneously with barely time to react. My stomach knotted, then cramped. It felt as if my insides were being yanked from me by route of my throat. I projected my hand over my mouth, spun from Tanner, and raced a few feet away. With a heave of my body, I vomited. After only one expulsion, I weakly dropped to my knees.

“Jo.” Tanner’s voice was close—behind me. “Are you OK?”

I only nodded as I wiped my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you tell me?” I stared at the ground.

“I thought you would want to know.”

“Know what?” I asked angrily and stumbled into a stand. “Know that my friend didn’t have to die? Know that she sought help only to find her death?”

“Jo, this is not my fault.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” I spoke with edge. “I don’t understand why you felt the need to tell me this?”

Tanner was at a loss. It was obvious, he fumbled for words. “I just… maybe… I thought it would make it easier to know she hadn’t been suffering for weeks.”

“The only thing that it makes easier, is taking her out of here.” I began to walk back toward the tent.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Tanner reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me before I made it a few feet away. “Take her where?”

Sternly I looked at him and answered, “Home.”

“You can’t do that.” Tanner argued.

“She can’t stay here!”

“And she can’t be moved! Not any distance. You think she’s suffering now, Jo? Huh? You move that woman and you spiral her into a world of agony like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, at least…” With a grunt I pulled my arm from Tanner. “At home she’ll be more than just a face. She’ll be around those she loves and she’ll die with dignity. Here she’s…”

“Not an infectious risk to a group of healthy people.” Tanner cut me off. “If she survives the trip to your home, and you bring her inside, every hour she lives is a chance you take with those in your shelter. Cholera, meningitis…”

“She won’t live that long.” I started to walk again.

“How do you know? You don’t.”

I spun to face him. “No, Tanner, I do.”

“What are you gonna do, Jo? Take her home to kill her?” he asked with a disbelieving chuckle.

Opting to not respond, I turned and began to walk.

“You are. What? Are you insane?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Humane.”

“How are you gonna do it? Shoot her? Like a sick dog, a horse with a broken leg. Oh, yeah, that’s real humane. What about suffocating her instead. Huh?”

Just before I stepped back into the tent, I froze. I couldn’t move. Tanner’s words began to absorb in me. They sounded cold, cruel. Why did he care? Why was he even taking time to argue with me? I didn’t understand Tanner’s motivation, but I painfully understood what he was trying to say. Uncontrollably my body began to tremble, and I fought back the tears that desperately wanted to flow. Suddenly the big plan that Burke and I had waited all day to implement, sounded less and less grounded.

“Jo,” Tanner whispered, then walked in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” I shook my head and wiped my hand across my cheek to clear the tear. “You’re right. It isn’t our intention to hurt her anymore. It isn’t. She doesn’t deserve to suffer like this anymore. Not for one minute more. But what choice do we have?” I glanced up at him. “What choice… do we have?”

* * *

Where in the eyes of some he would be seen as a messenger of death, I saw Tanner Niles as no less than an angel of mercy. Perhaps it was a premonition that caused him to have that ‘angelic’ or ‘heavenly’ appearance when I first saw him that evening walking into the tent. I don’t know. But Tanner pulled through.

Tanner proved that we didn’t have to move Hebba very far, in order for her to have what Burke and I sought. A mere lift of a canvass tarp, scoot of the cot, and Hebba was out of that tent. We slowly and gently, carried the cot a bit further.

Thousands of people screamed and cried in the area surrounding us. Gunshots blared occasionally, and the sound of a roaring fire was the backdrop. But somehow, on the edge of the camp, ten feet from the tent, it was quiet.

“It’s isolated here. Private,” Tanner spoke soft as he stood with us. “Just know… Out here, Jo, with you two, she’s not just a face. She is with those she loves. She can die…” Tanner grabbed my hand. “With dignity.”

I felt him place an object in my hand. I looked down to see a filled syringe. My eyes rose to him.

Tanner curled my fingers around it. “Inject the entire amount. OK? No pain. Dignity.”

I felt my top lip quiver, and I managed to peep out the words, ‘Thank you.’

Giving a firm squeeze to my hand, Tanner nodded, glanced quickly at Burke, then walked away.

What all I had said to Hebba is a blur. I know I said a lot. Reconciling for arguments of the past, nice things never spoken, they all flowed from me in the moments before I departed her side. To be certain, before I left, I asked Hebba if she understood what was happening. Though she couldn’t speak easily, she conveyed that she did and it was what she wanted. Clutching her hand, I whispered my goodbye, and then handed the syringe to Burke. I believed the last moments of her life should be in private, and alone with her husband. My place wasn’t to intrude. I watched Burke fumble with the syringe, uncapping it, and bringing it to Hebba’s thigh. I stepped back to leave them.

“Jo.” Burke called my name.

I stopped walking and turned around.

“I can’t do it.” Burke held up the syringe. “I can’t be the one.”

“Burke, I…”

“Please.” He wouldn’t even look at me. Extending the needle, he turned to face the other way.

I hesitated. Who wouldn’t? Never did it dawn on me that I would be the one who would be responsible for giving that lethal injection of peace. I did not want to do it. Everything inside of me screamed to tell Burke, ‘No.’ But I didn’t. Laboring in my breathing, I walked over and took the syringe. The second I received it, Burke turned further away and covered his face.

Burke may not have looked at me, but Hebba did. That made it harder. No doubt, my hands shook out of control. Preparing to deliver the injection was grueling, and it only lasted a few seconds. I couldn’t think about what I was doing, I had to just act. I made brief eye contact with Hebba, then looked at her leg. I brought the syringe forward and paused.

“God forgive me,” I whispered then plunged the needle into her flesh and released the liquid that filled the syringe.

I whimpered. I know I did, and then, leaving the empty syringe on the foot of the cot, I hurried away. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t look back. There was no need to. In a matter of moments it would be over. Hebba, like Sam, would be gone forever.

17. Blocked

The arrival of dawn only brought to light the fact that we had suffered another heartache. Bringing Hebba’s body back home with us to bury became a subject of debate between Burke and me. One that ended with him winning. We left Hebba behind. Our goodbyes were our burial and we left it at that. I didn’t understand it, nor did I pretend to. But Hebba was his wife, and it was his choice.

Burke took no time. He hid his grief well, practicing what he had preached to me about moving on. Nor did he sleep after we returned. He dove straight into completing what he had begun the day before: The outhouse, Mark’s basement. He seemed unstoppable. I saw through it. I likened him to an emotional freight train, blasting full speed ahead, cascading on autopilot, blaring his horn when someone got in his way. Eventually he would run out of steam. But knowing Burke, he’d find someway to refuel, and that worried me. Burke ran on emotions, energized by way of anger. When it came time to gas up, I feared whom Burke would use as his fueling pump. My guess was Craig or Dan. They were easy targets for him.

It was two weeks to the day since the bombs had fallen. My God, how my life had changed.

My fifteen year-old son had suddenly matured and in a sense had silently proclaimed himself a father to Simon. I wanted to take care of Simon, but with each passing day, Davy took that responsibility. Making sure that Simon ate, that he was clean, stayed busy, and even exercised. Was Davy’s focus on Simon the reason he was the best adjusted of us all? In my mind, Davy and Simon needed none of us. Although they did interact, they were self-sufficient, living in their own little world within the shelter. A world I envied.

And on the flip side of the coin, there was Matty.

Matty still wasn’t fully speaking. She began to draw more and more pictures. Some of the drawings were pronounced with despair. Some were funny. Matty tended to want to draw Dan quite a bit. In most, she depicted him as repulsive, deformed, and often satanic. Rod believed it was Matty’s way of exorcising her demons. I believed a simpler explanation; Matty hated Dan. For some reason known only to my daughter, Dan never made her favorite person list.

The list.

My ‘I’ll be there’ list had dwindled down to one name. Mona. Everyone else was accounted for. Their whereabouts known, except for her. I thought of her often and stared at her name more than I should. Though I knew where she was when the bombs exploded, that wasn’t reason enough for me to believe she hadn’t survived. After all, everyone else on my list was—at some point—alive. It was a thought that I kept to myself, but the optimist and dreamer in me wondered if their survival was in someway accredited to my list. That somehow, by my writing down their names I had granted unto them the gift of living. So why wouldn’t Mona be blessed by the power of my pen?

My ‘I’ll be there’ notebook had page after page of memories about those on my list. On eight days AB, I branched out. I began writing brief journal entries in the form of letters… to Mona. Keeping my sanity, while keeping my friend alive, if only in my heart, and only through the pages of my notebook.

My first note to Mona was scarcely beyond a second grade level of composition, and really left a lot to be desired. My objective wasn’t to be a great storyteller, it was just to focus and write something. Anything. I did. The first entry simply read: ‘Dear Mona: It’s been two weeks. Sam and Hebba have both died. The rest of us are well. We worry about you and miss you. Thank you for calling me and telling me about the bombs. Jo’

I made the fatal mistake of telling Burke what I was doing, then I worsened that error by showing him what I wrote. He called me insane and ridiculed my choice of words. To him, Mona was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t get angry or upset with him, because when I opened my notebook, I opened myself up to Burke’s combativeness.

The hours of each day seemed to drag. By eleven in the morning I felt as if I had put in an entire days worth of time. It wouldn’t have been so bad had Burke allowed us to help with the move. About all we were permitted to do was organize my basement to be a central stock station. We were to get what we needed to live at Mark’s and that was all. At Burke’s request, Craig devised a padlock system out of wood, wire, and Davy’s bicycle padlock. It would go on my basement door, to double insure our livelihood was safe.

The physical transition from my house to Mark’s was an interesting journey. Simon, in a mockery of Dan, screamed the entire way for help because he couldn’t see. And Rod beckoned Burke not to lock his nerve medication in my basement with all the other supplies.

Moving over to Mark’s was a wise choice. His basement was over twice the size of mine. It was already divided up nicely in an apartment style from when Mark used to rent it out to his brother. A living room, two small bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a small bath. It was more of a home, and definitely a brighter atmosphere.

With the new home, we also gained a new member to our little group. Burke found her in Mark’s house—tucked away in hiding. I argued at first, and didn’t want her around.

“She’s not serious, Jo,” Burke told me. “She can bring a silliness, make us smile. We need something that isn’t so serious. She stays. Drop it.”

Rod and Craig agreed a hundred percent with Burke—they would. I, of course, had valid reasons for not wanting her around. Hygiene. History. Was she used and abused? After Burke assured me that she wasn’t. That not only was she still in an unopened box when he found her, she hadn’t even been removed from the sealed plastic bag. I dropped that argument and allowed for him to inflate the blow-up doll he had discovered. What a waste of energy. However, Burke ended up being correct. She lifted the spirits. At first I found it obscene, but Rod dressed her in some old evening gown, that made her better. Plus, Simon and Matty took an instant liking to her, so we named her Molly.

“Where’s Nicky?” I asked as I walked into the living room portion of the basement.

Rod found a corner where he huddled with a tablet. He glanced up to answer me, “Outside I think.” He brought the pen to his mouth. “Yes. She is. Craig’s there.”

“Still?” I asked. “She’s been out there a while.”

Dan, who was seated at the small table, interjected his two cents worth as he read through some magazine. “She’s fine, Jo. A big girl.”

“I guess you’re right.” I prepared to take a moment to relax, maybe even doze off. There was plenty of space in that living room, plus something about it made us all feel at ease. Perhaps it was the wood paneling, rustic appeal, or just the fact it was homey. We all took a liking to that room immediately. Even Matty. More than having room to spread about her art, she liked that the new home didn’t smell bad.

There was a stack of old Hunter’s Digest in a bin. It was new reading material to me, and like Dan, I thought I’d grab one and indulge. In my reach, my head cocked when I heard Simon squeal happily. I was shocked when I saw what caused his joy.

“Simon,” I scolded.

Simon laughed and did a little jump of excitement. “Molly wants some more.”

“No, Simon.” I walked over to Molly who was positioned on the small sofa. “She doesn’t.” I reached into her wide-open mouth and pulled out the dehydrated cranberry Simon had tossed in there. “If you don’t want them, Simon, put them back.”

“Molly wants to eat them.” Simon giggled.

“No.” I corrected. “Molly eats air.”

Rod chuckled as he eavesdropped. “Amongst other things.”

I gasped.

Simon laughed again as if he totally understood what Rod was implying. He slapped his little knee. “Rod’s funny. Rod’s funny.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a card.” I shook my head.

“Jo. They won’t go to waste,” Rod said. “Someone will eat them. The boy is only restless. He wants to play.”

“Oh!” Simon called out and clapped his hands. “Outside. Can I go outside now, Aunt Jo?”

“No, Simon.” I crouched down to be at his level. “We have to wait, Sweetie.” My voice was soothing and even-toned as if I told a happy story. “Big Bad Burke wants to go with us with his big bad gun to make sure no big bad men…”

“Holy, Jesus, Jo.” Rod interrupted me. “Just tell the boy you have to wait until Burke gets up.”

Just then Davy came into the room. “Burke’s awake. He said to get Simon ready.” Davy extended his hand to Simon. “Come on, buddy, let’s go get you dressed to play. Matty, you want to come too?”

“No.” Matty replied, “I want to keep my hair.”

Davy shrugged. “Suit yourself, let’s go, Simon.”

Simon happily went with Davy. I glanced down to Matty on the floor. “I’m glad you’re staying inside,” I told her.

Rod looked up from his work. “Jo, you’re making your daughter neurotic enough. Maybe you should encourage her to go out. Ten minutes outside is not gonna hurt her.”

Before I could even respond, Matty did. “I want to draw.” She spoke as her hand moved about. “I’m making a new Dan picture.”

With a questioning, ‘hmm’, Rod lifted up and extended his body to peer at what Matty created. “Very good. I see you’ve given him horns.”

The ‘slam’ of Dan’s hand on the table startled us. “Why does she depict me like that?”

Rod shrugged. “She psychic. She sees through you.”

Had Burke not walked in the room ordering out, ‘No bitch fights’, I’m sure some little spat between Rod and Dan would have ensued. He looked at none of us, and moved straight to the kitchenette area.

“I made you coffee, Burke,” I said. “There’s a good half a cup.”

“Thanks.” Burke lifted the tin pot.

“Burke?” Innocently, I crept his way.

“Jo.” He poured his coffee. “Simon will be fine.”

I grumbled. “I hate when you know what I’m gonna say.”

“Don’t be so predictable.”

“But, Craig says even though the rads are lower, it might be best if we wait until it rains.”

Burke finally turned around. “We’re taking precautions. Besides, we don’t know when it’s gonna rain.”

“Rod says soon.” I nodded.

Burke paused before taking a drink. His lips hovered over the rim of the cup, and his dark eyes looked at me as if I were being ridiculous. “And how does Rod know?”

“He has magic sinuses,” I replied.

Burke coughed out a laugh.

Rod seemed offended by Burke’s reaction. “I do,” Rod said. “I put my thumb and forefinger on my cheek bones and press. If I get a tickle in my throat… rain.”

Chuckling, Burke shook his head.

“You’ll see, big guy.” Rod pointed his pen at Burke. “Rain.”

“We should make Simon wait,” I said. “I believe Rod.”

“You would.” Burke walked by me. “Simon goes out.”

“But…”

Spinning to me, Burke put his hand over my mouth. “Out. I’m taking precautions.” Nodding once, Burke turned and walked out. “Davy!” he blasted in his exit. “Is Simon ready? I want to inspect him.”

“Inspect?” I asked, and then curiously looked to Rod or Dan for answers. “What’s he doing to Simon?”

It satisfied me and was no less than hysterical. I went outside with Davy and Simon. Burke was giving them a half an hour. Exposure would be minimal. Of course, I couldn’t figure out how Simon would get any exposure at all. Precautions? Burke had that covered… literally. Simon was a big blue bundle. He wore Davy’s old snowsuit. The ski goggles that covered his eyes helped to hold the white cloth securely over Simon’s nose and mouth. With the mittens and boots, Simon looked more like he was ready to build a snowman rather than play catch. It was visually evident that Simon could barely move his arms let alone run. But Simon didn’t mind, he darted about the yard as best as he could. Davy had his hands full continuously chasing Simon from the sporadic pockets of thick ash in the yard. Ash that Simon believed was some kind of new snow.

Burke was bored and restless, that was obvious. He paced a lot during his ‘watch guard’ duty, while making far too many comments regarding Nicky’s state of mind.

Granted, Burke’s concerns were validated, but his stock remark of ‘Oh, she’s fuckin’ gone’, was a bit crude.

Nicky bothered no one. Craig tried to get her to go indoors several times. She refused, saying she still hadn’t finished her gardening. I once had a flowerbed in front of my home. It wasn’t much, and it paled in comparison to Mrs. Yu’s garden. I really never tended to it, to me, what grew—grew. Taking it upon herself, Nicky cleared away the debris and ash that collected on my flowerbed.

Burked paced, stopped, looked at Nicky then to me. “Oh, she’s…”

“Don’t say it.” I warned. “Sit.”

“I don’t want to sit.”

“Well, then move, I can’t see around you to watch Simon.”

“I’ll sit.” Burke plopped down on the porch step next to me.

“Swell.” I mumbled.

Brightly, Nicky called out, “Look, Jo. Look how pretty this is. Everyone will be envious.”

Burke whistled. “Oh, she’s…”

“Don’t.” I held up my hand.

“Jo?” Nicky sung my name. “I found mint leaves. Should I collect them for rations?”

Burke tried again. “Jo, she’s…”

“Burke. Stop.” I instructed.

“Jo, I can’t help it,” he defended. “She’s over there in some sort of fucked up apocalyptic Donna Reed mode. And she’s humming country tunes.”

A shadow cast over us. I looked up to see Craig.

“I didn’t even know she liked country.” Craig said. “Go figure. You learn something new everyday.” He shrugged and walked away.

“Oh, my God.” Burke groaned out, “he’s fuckin’ gone too.”

My hand slapped hard to my leg in my frustration. “Will you just stop? You’re looking at this all wrong.”

“I’m looking at it wrong? How else am I supposed to look at it?”

“Like…” My eyes strayed, I pretended to watch Simon when really, I was searching for words. “Like…” I snapped my finger. “They really aren’t acting ‘fucked up’, they’re….” I fluttered my lips. “Acting normal in a fucked up situation. There.”

I waited. Surely Burke would retort with some sarcastic, obscenity-laced comment. He didn’t. Surprising me, he just bobbed his head with an agreeable look. Then a strange moment erupted between us; we started to chuckle.

“That was funny,” Burke said.

As I opened my mouth to agree, my chuckle evolved into laughter when I noticed Simon. He was stuck. Without getting hurt, Simon had somehow fallen. And like a cockroach on its back, he struggled diligently to get up. The blue bundled boy rolled slightly side-to-side, reaching for Davy who was in hysterics.

I pointed. “No, that’s funny.”

In a shift of his eyes, Burke went from laughing to serious. He stood. “But that’s not.”

“Huh?” My head spun from the sudden switch of moods. Turning to see what Burke was referring to, I instinctively sprang to my feet. When I saw, I couldn’t speak. My reaction teetered between shock and horrified. Tammy was walking toward the house, and if it hadn’t been for the yellow backpack she carried, there was no way I would have recognized her.

* * *

The weight Tammy had lost was pronounced, even under the thick bulky clothes that she wore. It had been only days since we had seen her last, and I swear she dropped twenty pounds.

Tammy made the announcement to all of us that she didn’t want to hear or answer questions about her health. She was fine. And the weight loss? Tammy said it was just extra poundage she carried around for years anyhow. Stating that perhaps she was stocking it for the times like we faced.

A lesion developed on the side of her face, directly where she had an abrasion—a purple sore encircled by black. Her face was pale, drawn and she developed dark circles. There was something about her teeth that struck me as odd. It wasn’t that they were unbrushed; they had lost a luster—just like her eyes.

But those physical sufferings were not what pulled at my heartstrings. There was one attribute that Tammy had for which she constantly received compliments. Strangers on the street would stop to tell her how beautiful her hair was. Dark-blonde and thick, it flowed to her waist, like a velvet veil. When I saw Tammy, I didn’t notice, because like so often, she had her hair pulled into a long ponytail. It wasn’t until she stepped closer that I saw the appearance and texture of her hair had changed. It was thin, the color lighter, and seemed dry and straw-like.

I tried to contain my reaction, but I couldn’t. When Tammy slipped off her bandana, the pain of seeing it physically went through me. Scarcely anything was left. A minimal amount of strands created a thin overlay for her visible scalp.

There was a brief, sad moment of silence then Tammy released a soft chuckle. “I guess it won’t be long before it all goes. I could shave it… but I think I’ll hold on to it as long as I can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tammy shook her head. “I knew what I was doing and I knew what the consequences were. I have to find my son, Jo, I’ll look until the day I die.”

“You will. We’ll hit the rescue station tomorrow. There’s thousands there.”

Tammy nodded.

“How are you feeling?”

With a tilt of her head, Tammy gave a half-shrug. “To everyone else, I’m fine. Between you and me… I’ve been better.”

“Rest. Food. That may help. Why don’t you get cleaned up while I get that ready?”

Tammy nodded her response. The bathroom was reserved for simple cleansing, so I led her to the garage, which was our official ‘shower’ area. After handing Tammy fresh clothes, soap, and water rations for clean up, I left her alone and went to the main section of the basement to wait with the others. Tammy informed us she brought important news, but had yet to divulge that information. We may have been patient, but we were all anxious as to what she had to say.

* * *

“She smells.” Burke was blunt as he sat down at the kitchen table.

His comment made me laugh. “What?” I asked.

“I’m serious, Jo. She smells. Am I the only one who noticed?” He looked to Craig, Rod, and Dan who were also seated at the table. They didn’t answer. “Hell with you three. You just don’t want to say. I’ll say. She smells.”

“Burke.” I sat down next to him. “She’s cleaning up now. Maybe afterward…”

“No.” Burke shook his head. “It’s not a dirt smell, or a smell from being out there. I don’t know what it is.”

“Perhaps,” Rod spoke up. “It’s a feminine thing. Not that I would personally know, but I heard when women don’t wash…”

We all moaned and silenced him.

“Just a thought.” Rod stated, lifting his hand in defense.

Burke cringed. “It’s not that.”

Dan recited out his guess, “What about her head? She has that sore. It could be infected. It looks infected.”

Craig interjected his two cents. “Or the sickness. She has it. We know it.”

Rod nodded in agreement. “Makes perfect sense. With the sickness who knows what sort of vile substance has been involuntarily excreting…”

“Stop.” Burke held up his and to Rod. “Stop being so descriptive. We know what you mean. Whatever is causing it isn’t the point. The point is I think it’s a warning to something.”

“A warning?” I asked. “To what?”

“To her,” Burke said. “And she’s ignoring it. Jo, face it. Almost a week ago she needed medical attention, and right now, she needs it even more.”

Tammy stepped into the room at that very second. “I do not. I’m fine.”

Burke scoffed. “Yeah, sure you are.” Shaking his head, he stood up.

“I may not look it.” Tammy walked to the table and stood behind Rod. “But I’m fine. And I’m not dying.”

All of us drew into an eerie silence. A silence broken by Rod when he sprang to his feet.

“Ex… excuse me,” he said with his hand hovering close to his mouth. “Take my seat, I need to stand.”

Tammy looked at Rod curiously, and then she sat down. “Thanks.”

At first I believed Rod had slipped into some emotional moment, darting away like he did with his hand over his mouth. Then I realized why he moved. With Tammy seated so close to me, I caught a good whiff of the slight sour odor that emanated from her.

“Tammy,” I said cautiously. “You…”

“Jo.” She halted me. “I don’t want to hear anything about my health.”

“Fine.” I folded with little resistance. Then, using ‘a need to stand’ as my excuse as well, I stood from the table. “Why don’t you tell us the news.” I suggested. “We’ve been waiting.”

Tammy nodded. “As you know, I headed south to Mick’s dads. Hoping maybe he went there. I know it was a far distance, but…” she shrugged. “You never know. I made it a far as West James.”

That caught my attention. “West James? Oh, my God.” I gasped. “Tammy, Mona’s house…”

“I went there,” Tammy said. “She wasn’t there.”

Burke remarked annoyingly, “Of course she isn’t there. She’s fuckin’ toast in Tulsa.”

“Shut up.” I barked. “Go on, Tammy.”

“Anyway,” Tammy continued. “I was going to camp there for the night. But, there wasn’t a single can of food, a blanket, nothing. She was wiped out. I thought looters, but her house wasn’t messed up.”

“Gary?” I questioned.

Tammy nodded. “Gary. I went to her ex-husband’s house, and sure enough, he was there with Adam. Mona’s kid is alive and well. I ended up staying there for the night.”

“Oh.” I sighed out. “That is great news. I’ll have to write Mona and tell her.” I noticed everyone looked at me at that instant. “In my notebook.”

“So why did you turn around and come back?” Burke asked. “Because you got sick?”

“I’m not sick.” Tammy argued.

“Yeah. OK.” Burke rolled his eyes. “Why did you turn around?”

“I couldn’t go any further,” Tammy explained. “No further. You know the plan to go to Burke’s cabin? We all can forget it. We’re stuck. Military barricades at every roadway within a twenty-mile circumference of the city. No one gets out.” She paused and looked at our shocked faces. “Civilization is under the gun.”

18. Over Coffee

Tammy’s news precluded a chain of unexpected occurrences that made for a very eventful day. The first of which was denial of what she told us. It bred arguments and anger. Burke was insistent that even if what Tammy said was correct, hell or high water he’d move us through—blasting both barrels if he had to. And while Tammy grew irrational with Burke—defensively calling him immature names—Rod kept insisting on a peaceful route, logically stating that the military couldn’t possibly have every road blocked. Somehow Rod’s reasoning was buried and unheard beneath the quarrel of Burke and Tammy. They veered so far off the subject of going to the cabin, we couldn’t steer them back. It went from one storm to another.

Rod’s magical sinuses were absolutely correct, and he made no attempts to hide his gloating when it started to rain. The cleansing waters arrived with a vengeance. Lightening cracked, and the thunder vibrated the walls. The rush of the storm blared, yet for as violent as the weather was, it had an opposite effect on us. A calm took over and we sat and listened to the rain as if it were a form of entertainment.

Then Nicky started to cry. It started as whimpers, a series of which none of us paid any attention. They grew into sobs, which transformed into wails. Loud and shrill she screamed out, like a baby with colic. She locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. We thought that while she napped, she was hit with a dream that brought her out of her happy world and back into a reality she couldn’t face. The crying wouldn’t stop. It was continuous. Finally Burke had enough. He dismantled the hinges of the bathroom door, not to find out what was wrong, but to get her to quiet down. It was then we discovered why Nicky agonized.

Flesh eating sores, the size of dimes, doused Nicky’s hands. They spread across her fingers, her palms. Her lips had blistered, and she was lethargic from the ulcers in her mouth and on her tongue. There was nothing we could do to help her. Anything we had that would even remotely help, Nicky was unable to swallow. We were able to move her to the other small bedroom. As the clock ticked, her sobbing lost its steam, and we knew eventually she would exhaust herself and fall asleep.

We hoped.

I believe it was the first time ever that Rod and Dan totally agreed on anything. Tammy camped on the first floor of Mark’s house. She didn’t want to stay in the basement shelter; she saw no reason to be cramped. Rod along with Dan insisted that Nicky be moved to the first floor. Keep misery together, sickness in one area. Just on the outside chance the two of them had something other than radiation poisoning, they would be at some distance from those of us who were healthy.

Craig remained silent. My guess was he agreed with Rod and Dan, but out of loyalty to Nicky, wouldn’t say. I was torn. Burke used, ‘I need to think about it’ as his excuse not to deal with it at all.

Like it or not, Rod and Dan had a good argument. The situation had to be faced.

We welcomed the evening. It was a time of the day when things were peaceful and quiet. Nicky passed out—a good thing. The rest of us settled into routines we had become quite accustomed to doing after dinner. Dan usually menu planned for the next day. If beans were on the agenda, he’d soak them, then go to sleep well before nine. Rod wrote. Craig was building something electronic, what it was he didn’t say and we never asked. The kids broke out a board game to wind them down. They were on a Monopoly kick since Simon started recognizing what the cards meant. And me, I sat with Burke. Whether we were fighting, debating, talking or quiet, my nights somehow always ended with him.

It was like the rain gave the world a good bath. There was a different smell to the air. Gone was the stench of ‘rotten’ that lingered about at every turn. It was replaced with a crisp smell, and cool. The temperature had dropped a little, but Burke and I chose to sit outside. He lit a small fire, and we sat at the end of the driveway nearer to the backyards.

I watched the brown liquid in the whiskey bottle splash as Burke pulled it from his mouth. He gasped and then showed me the bottle in an invitation to join him in the drink. I declined, despite how badly I wanted the drink.

“Why?” Burke asked. “It won’t hurt.”

“I know. I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop,” I answered.

“The problem with that?”

“The problem is, alcohol dehydrates you.”

“Yeah-yeah, well one shot isn’t gonna turn you into a fuckin’ prune. Here.” He showed me the bottle again.

“No. And why are you drinking? Didn’t you place yourself in charge of our lives or something?”

Burke grunted. “You think this bottle is gonna affect me. I think not.” He took a drink. “Not after the past twenty-four hours.”

“Burke?” I spoke softly. “What are we gonna do?”

“Jo, that’s a pretty open ended question. What are we gonna do about what? About Tammy? Nicky? The world?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” I stared at the fire. “The move. The barricades.”

“If they exist.”

“Why do you doubt that?” I asked. “Why would Tammy lie?”

“I’m not saying she’s lying. I’m saying she may not know.”

I laughed. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“She’s irrational, Jo.”

“Bull shit.”

“No, not bull shit.” Burke argued. “I’m being serious. She’s adamant about not getting help. Twice she got up and wandered from the dinner table. And both times she didn’t realize she had done it. Plus, why doesn’t she remember Dan’s name?”

“She knows his name.”

“She asked Rod his name.”

“She’s not crazy if that’s…”

“No.” Burke cut me off. “I’m not saying she went Nicky. I’m saying she’s not well. Sick people. Fevered people don’t think or see things correctly. What if she was fevered and was delirious or something.”

“OK. But what if she wasn’t. Then what? I believe her, Burke. She sounded rational when she told us about the barricade. Assume they are there. What are we gonna do.”

“I still want to leave in a week. Six more days and…” Burke quickly looked up.

“I heard that,” I said in reference to a scuffling sound.

Burke stood and lifted his shotgun.

“It’s me. Tanner Niles.” Tanner called out in the darkness. “Don’t shoot. I’m making my approach.”

Burke looked at me inquiringly and whispered, “What’s he doing here?”

Even though a part of me knew the answer to Burke’s question, I shrugged and stood as Tanner walked down the driveway.

He looked different. He wasn’t wearing the hospital scrubs that I was accustomed to seeing him in. Instead he wore camouflage pants, a tee shirt, and open camouflage jacket. From a distance I may not have recognized him if he hadn’t called out.

“Evening.” Tanner walked up to our campfire, immediately extending his hand to me. “Hey, Jo.” After shaking hands with me, he reached to Burke. “Burke. How are you?”

It was barely noticeable but Burke hesitated in shaking hands. “Tanner. I’m doing. So… what brings you here?” he asked as he sat back down.

“I’m taking Jo up on her offer. She said if I ever needed a break from the station. I was welcome here. And I really needed to get away from there.” Tanner shifted his eyes to me. “You remember, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said.

Tanner released a breath. “Oh, good. I’m… I’m not intruding, am I?”

Oddly enough, Burke answered. “No. Have a seat. Sit with us. We’re only talking.”

“Thanks. But, before I do. I brought you something.” Tanner slipped his hand into his jacket, as he did, the fire illuminated two things that he wore. Both caught me by surprise. The handle of a revolver extended from a waist-side holster, the other item dangled from his neck.

I don’t know why I did it—obviously my curiosity took over my rational thinking—but I reached out, and took hold of the dog tags that hung from the silver chain. Then, as if I didn’t realize he wore them, I pulled the tags slightly so the fire would brighten the engravings.

“Jo?” Tanner chuckled my name.

“These are yours,” I said dazed.

Burke let out a sarcastic scoff. “He’s wearing them, isn’t he?”

I snapped a quick scolding glance to Burke, then after looking once more at the tags, I raised my eyes to Tanner. “Captain Niles? I thought you were a doctor.”

“I am. I’m also a marine.”

“That makes sense.” I mumbled.

“What makes sense?” Tanner asked.

“Oh, that you were there. You know, at the station. Working. It's a military thing. I think. Not sure.” I finally released the tags. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling. You were…”

“Giving you something.” Tanner returned to reaching into his coat. “I brought you a gift.” From under his jacket he pulled out two foil bags, both were about eight inches long, full, and round. “Water.” He handed the first one to me. “Coffee.” He placed the second pouch in my other hand. “The coffee is concentrated. That bag makes one of those big urns we have at the station. Not sure if you guys are coffee drinkers…”

“We are.” I smiled, yet couldn’t take my eyes off the gift that enthralled me.

“Good,” Tanner said. “Obviously that bag of water isn’t enough. But, it’s easy, you can use it a little at a time, and if you don’t have water for it, you can drink it as is, like…”

“Espresso.” I finished his sentence.

“Yeah. Powerful stuff. Enjoy.”

“I will thanks.” I glanced down to Burke. “Look, Burke. We got a gift.”

“I see.” Burke poked the fire. “I hoped it was antibiotics again.”

Immediately, Tanner looked at Burke. “Is someone sick?”

I answered, “Tammy. Nicky.”

“Do you want me to take a look at them?” Tanner asked.

At first I started to say, ‘yes’, but I stopped myself. “That’s not why you’re here, Tanner. You’re here to get away from sickness. Besides, we finally got Nicky settled, and Tammy… she won’t let you near her.”

“Denial,” Burke added.

“Yeah,” I said. “Plus, she is on the first floor…”

Burke interrupted, “Which is a good thing because she fuckin stinks.”

It was evident by Tanner’s face that not only did this comment from Burke pique his curiosity; it made him smile in a quirky way. “She… stinks?”

I nodded. “Stinks.”

“Bad too,” Burke said.

“It’s not bad.” I huffed. “The odor is just there.”

Again, Tanner questioned “She… stinks.”

“Not a dirty stinks,” Burke said.

And I added, “Or a feminine stink.”

“Jo.” Burke cringed.

“Stinks.” Tanner nodded once. “I see. Where is she?”

* * *

We tried to tell Tanner that getting through to Tammy was useless, but he insisted on trying anyhow. He knocked, called out to her, and when she told him to ‘go away’; he attempted only once more then asked to see Nicky. He also requested—if I didn’t mind—if he could give the kids a ‘once over’ since he was there. I agreed, but only after I reminded Tanner it wasn’t necessary and being a doctor wasn’t why he came to our shelter. He gave me ‘humor me’ look and I led him to the bedroom area.

Nicky was receptive to the help, and Craig was grateful for Tanner’s presence. I left Tanner there, figuring I’d attempt to put his gift to good use. When I arrived at the kitchenette, Burke had already begun that task.

The tin coffee pot rested on out mini sterno stove, I could hear the liquid contents inside rattle in their pre-boil state.

“Pretty neat, huh?” I walked up behind Burke.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t know if I made it strong, weak. We’ll find out.” Burke turned around. “I put the rest of the liquid coffee in a jug to keep it.”

“Thanks,” I folded my arms.

“Where’s he at now?” Burke asked.

I looked over my shoulder. “He was with Nicky. He might be with the kids now. He said he wanted to check on them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. To be nice.”

“Makes no sense.”

“What?” I chuckled in disbelief over his comment. “What makes no sense?”

“Him being nice,” Burke said. “He comes here. Brings the coffee. Plays doctor making house calls. Why?”

“Burke.”

“No, Jo. Aren’t you curious? I am.” Burke spoke in low voice. “What’s he want? What’s his gain?”

I stared at Burke only a second, then I turned and walked away from him. I didn’t answer. Maybe because I didn’t feel it deserved an answer, or because I didn’t have one. Either way, I was angry that Burke would even ask such a thing.

My search for Tanner brought me to the kid’s room. Simon’s giggles and Tanner’s whispering voice were my guide. I stopped in the doorway, arms folded, watching.

Tanner sat on the bed across from Simon. Simon was jingling the dog tags. “And that’s why I have to wear this funny necklace.” Tanner told Simon.

“So you been a marine a while then?” Davy asked as he sat on the floor.

“A long while,” Tanner answered. “And I’ll let you guys get back to your game.” He brushed his index finger down the bridge of Simon’s nose. “Be good, Simon.”

“I will.” Simon giggled. “And I’m gonna win.”

“I bet you are.” Tanner stood up. He paused, lifted one of Matty’s pictures, chuckled with a shake of his head and set it down. “See ya’ guys.” Turning, he saw me in the door.

“You seem very good with kids,” I said.

“I should be.” Tanner looked back at the kids, then exhaled. “I have… I had… three sons. Excuse me.” He walked by me and out of the bedroom.

I felt his air of sadness hit me like a gust of wind. His words left me breathless, and standing there. I hesitated before moving and following him, taking a few moments to think about what I would say to Tanner. I drew a blank.

Tanner was seated at the fire alone when I walked outside. Only two words slipped from my mouth as I made my approach. “I’m sorry.”

Tanner gazed up at me.

In handling the situation, I called upon my experience and feelings as a mother. If anything, what would I want said to me? An acknowledgement of what was told was at least in order. I walked slowly to the campfire and sat down next to him. “How old are your sons?”

Tanner folded his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “My oldest just turned nineteen. He’s in the service. Stationed in Germany. In fact, that’s where I was just before everything went to shit. Checking on him. Seeing how he’s doing. My other two. Sixteen and fifteen. They were home, with my mother when it happened.”

“Where is home?”

“Washington DC.”

“What are you…” I paused. “Never mind.”

“What am I doing here in Pittsburgh?”

I nodded.

“Mobilization of all medical personnel. Especially military med staff.” Tanner took a deep breath. “I could have stayed around the DC area. But… I knew. You can say I knew for sure about my two sons and mother. I didn’t want to be close.” He winked softly. “My oldest, well, I don’t know if I’ll ever find out for sure. I tried. Useless.” He shrugged.

“Your wife?”

“I’m not married. I divorced when…” Tanner chuckled. “Simon, my youngest was three. I never remarried.” Tanner turned slightly to face me. “Jo, it felt really good to see healthy kids. Those kids are doing great. You’ve done an awesome job through all this. In fact… the condition of everyone in your shelter is remarkable.”

“Come on.” I shook my head sadly. “Tammy and Nicky. They… they aren’t doing awesome.”

“From what Craig told me about Tammy. She hasn’t been here much, has she?” Tanner questioned, bringing his face a little closer to mine. “And Nicky, she wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither were we,” I said. “Why didn’t I stop her? I knew she was fooling around with the ash. I should have thought.”

“You’re not responsible for Nicky. You’re not. I don’t think you realize the extent of how far beyond everyone else you people are. Just to see you guys, says it all. I knew the day I saw you. The day I saw Burke. You weren’t like the others out here. You weren’t wandering around, looking for help, causing your death. You guys are smart. The fact that you still spend most of your time in the shelter, tells a lot.”

“Better safe than sorry.” I spoke soft. “I guess I always thought, staying below most of the time early on, would be a preventive medicine. Less exposure, no matter how minimal the radiation levels.”

“And the food. Water. You guys are staying clean. That in itself is preventive medicine. I’m impressed and…” Tanner shifted his eyes toward the door of the shelter, then returned to looking at me. He dropped his voice. “I overheard what Burke said about me.”

“Tanner…”

“No.” He shook his head with a partial smile. “I’d like to answer his question.” He hesitated, taking in a deep breath. “In this world, you can’t be alone anymore. You can… but it isn’t wise. You have to think ahead. I wasn’t thinking ahead until I met you. You guys have it together. You, Jo, despite all that you’ve been through… you have it together. I don’t have a gain, Jo. I just have no one, and no where else to go.”

Tanner spoke more though the look in his eyes than he did through his words. I saw that as I studied his face. Reaching out, I laid my hand over his and gently gripped his fingers.

Burke’s presence and announcing of, “Coffee’s done,” startled me and made me jerk my hand away as if I were doing something wrong.

“Thanks.” I accepted the coffee.

Burke handed a cup to Tanner, then he took a seat and joined us. “So, Tanner. You’re…”

What Burke started to ask at that second, I didn’t know. I was consumed with my coffee and how wonderful it tasted. I moaned out, sipped again, and ached out my pleasure even louder with an, ‘oh, my God.’

“Jo.” Burke snapped.

“Huh?” I peered over my brim to see them staring at me. “Sorry. It’s good.”

Tanner laughed.

Burke didn’t. “Anyway,” he continued. “What do you know about it?”

I was lost. I hoped Tanner would give some inkling of what was asked of him. He did.

“The barricades?” Tanner nodded. “I guess I know enough. What do you need to know?”

“Biggest question,” Burke said. “Why? Why are we locked down and stuck in the city.”

“Tanner?” I questioned. “Does that mean it’s only us, or only a few cities were hit?”

“No.” Tanner shook his head. “I wish. But, no. To answer your question, Burke. There are a lot of reasons for the barricade. Not just to keep you in here. Sure, the government is trying to get a grip. Trying to keep people from blast areas from going to areas unscathed. Prevent looting, squatting. You know. But, by keeping you here, keeps you safe in another way.”

“How so?” Burke asked.

“Disease,” Tanner answered. “People are dying in the blast areas. Yeah. Burns. Radiation sickness, and a lot of other things. But outside of the major blast areas, to be blunt, people are dying from stupidity. They didn’t see the damage, so they didn’t fear the damage. They went outside when they should have stayed in. They welcome the sunlight when they should have avoided it. They drank the water. If healthy people go to those areas, they put themselves at risk.”

“Well, how long do you think before they die?” Burke asked. “Because we have plans. We have a piece of land a good distance from here. Well water. A small lake. Good shelter. Supplies we took there. I want to move us out.”

“When?” Tanner asked.

“I’d like to move us now. But I promised Jo we’d give it six more days to see if Mona shows up.”

“She’s in Tulsa,” I said.

“She’s toast.” Burke commented.

“Tanner?” I asked. “What do you think?”

Tanner looked at me, his mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he focused on Burke. “Can I tell you something, Burke?”

“By all means.” Burke replied.

“You can’t go. Don’t even try. Hang tight ten or twelve days. Then go. In my opinion the blockades won’t be there, because they won’t be going back up.”

“Whoa. Hold on.” Burke lifted his hand. “Going back up? You make it sound as if they are taking them down.”

“They are,” Tanner said. “For the exact same reason I’m telling you to stay put. And my other motive for coming to talk to Jo tonight.”

“Tanner?” I looked at him. “Is something going on?”

After nodding, Tanner sipped his coffee then began his story, “Today, they called us together. Doctors. Nurses. Military personnel who were in charge and told us that in a minimal of four days, no longer than six, the rescue station shuts down. Closes. We’re supposed to return to post after several days, but who knows if there will be a post to return to.”

“Wait a minute.” I was in desperate need of clarifications. It made absolutely no sense to me. Why give help only to take it away? Tanner held answers. “The rescue station is closing down. But not for good? What about the people already there?”

“We stopped taking patients at six this evening. We’re holding people off. In all honesty, Jo, I don’t think the ones at the station will survive. The ones that can survive. We’re supposed to send them on their way, on their own with instructions.”

“To do what?” I asked.

Tanner paused. “Dig in.”

My eyes closed.”Oh, my God.”

Burke’s heavy exhale conveyed his concern. “We’re getting hit again.”

“Yes,” Tanner answered. “But not in the way that you think. You see, there’s a cloud, a bad one, heading this way. Moving across the globe. Sometimes it is stalemate because of weather conditions, sometimes it moves with more speed. The good news is, it loses potency with distance. The bad news is, when it reaches here, it won’t have lost enough potency. You think you saw gray skies. You think you felt the temperature drop? What we experienced is nothing compared to what is coming.”

More than Tanner realized, I grasped what he said. “The theoretical nuclear winter.”

“Yep,” Tanner said. “It’s about to arrive and arrive with a vengeance.”

Burke slowly shook his head. “I’m lost. What is a nuclear winter?”

I explained, “I told you this before. It’s when the dust and debris blocks out the sun.”

Tanner added, “Only it holds everything in. Air tight. The cold. The radiation. It’s packed with radioactive material.”

“And this is coming our way?” Burke asked. “How do we know?”

“What’s left of the Army’s scientific community has been tracking it.” Tanner answered. “Watching, keeping track as it moves, the effects it has. I have a list they gave us that has the data of its speed, what it did where, and so forth. I can give it to you tomorrow if you’d like.”

I nodded. “Yes, I would. Very much so.”

Burke grunted. “Why?”

“Why?” I chuckled some. “So I can see what we can expect, that’s why.”

“She’s right,” Tanner said. “Knowing what it did helps to know what it will do.”

“What will it do?” Burke questioned. “And when?”

“When? Four, five days.” Tanner shrugged. He then proceeded to explain in a frightening ‘matter of fact’ manner. “For certain, we’ll have about a twelve hour window of a warning. It will push through a preliminary cold front. The temperature will drop suddenly. Ten, twenty degrees. Right now, our radiation readouts bounce between one rad per hour and four, depending on the winds. No more than four. When this warning hits, the levels will rise to about ten rads, and increase per hour. By the time the cloud is here full force, you will see the rad levels soar to about fifty per hour, and the temperature will pummel at least another thirty degrees.”

The crackling fire was the only sound in the immediate moments following Tanner’s explanation. Then at last, a little frightened, I spoke up.

“What about the people who don’t know?” I queried.

“If they aren’t prepared, or smart, more than likely, Jo…” Tanner hesitated. “If the radiation doesn’t kill them, the temperature will.”

Hearing that made it physically impossible to swallow. My lips puckered in my attempt. “What about us?”

My question seemed to amuse Tanner. He huffed a small laugh. “I haven’t a doubt, you guys will be just fine.” He winked.

I breathed out slowly, with a nod to my head. “OK. And you know what? We’ll have Craig do a radio call. If someone is listening, we can get the word out.”

Burke agreed, “That’s fair. But we wait until it’s close. OK? The last thing we want is people panicking, and going fuckin’ nuts over this.” He shifted some to face Tanner. “Why is this happening now? I can’t believe it’s taking—it’ll be—three weeks for this cloud to reach us. What? Is it starting from Europe and circling the globe?”

“No.” Tanner shook his head. “It’s starting from the pacific… California. And it isn’t taking two weeks. The war didn’t end two weeks ago. It ended four days ago.”

My immediate response to his words came in the form of a quiet and airy laugh. Tanner had to be joking, or at the very least, misinformed. In the resultant silence he looked at me. I saw it in his eyes.

He was serious.

Tanner continued, “Without getting into who started what, I’ll just tell you, it began with a Mideast exchange that quickly escalated to Europe. I mean within hours. By the time word reached the states, pre-planted nuclear devices had exploded and others were airborne.”

“That would mean ICBMs.” I said in shock, shaking my head. “That can’t be. Intercontinental ballistic missiles? There are very few countries that have that technology, let alone the payload to hit each city with two or three bombs. None of our enemies. Was it accidental? Russia?”

“Nope.” Tanner shook his head. “Unbeknown to us, an unholy union had been formed between Israel and China. They hid behind a facade of peace treaties, trade laws, and brotherhood dedication to the United States. When all the while, for years it had been in the works. You can say it was a modern Blitzkrieg, with a devastating impact. They hit strategically across our country, singling out cities here and there on the west coast; bombarding the east coast pretty much into annihilation. Then… four days after the initial strike.” He paused. “Four-hundred-thousand Chinamen stormed our beach. Straight up and down the west coast. They just…” He released a single chuckle. “Marched upon our soil. We hadn’t the manpower to stop them.” Tanner spoke almost as if in a sad shock. “Damn near made it across Nevada, until we said enough is enough. The US unleashed a ‘no holds barred’ full-scale nuclear attack, not only against China and Israel… but on our own soil as well. We had a choice. Lose it all, or lose twenty percent. So… we blew them back home. The result of all that… is on its way.” Lowering his head some, Tanner brought his hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and breathed heavily into his palm.

Tanner Niles had brought to light that I was blinded by the safety and seclusion of our bomb shelter world. My daydream fantasy that somewhere out there, people were living a happy, normal existence—shattered. It was evident how heavy the truth weighed upon Tanner. A part of me wished he hadn’t said anything.

Finally through the distressed quiet, Burke spoke up, “But it’s over, right? The war’s done. Who won?”

Slowly, Tanner raised his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. Does it?”

19. Concert Tickets

He arrived an acquaintance and left a friend. In the cool darkness warmed by a small campfire, Tanner Niles transformed during the course of his two hour visit. He shared potent news over a strong cup a coffee. Very few words came from Burke the rest of the evening. He went in and out of the shelter quite a bit during the remainder of Tanner’s time with us. When he sat by the fire Burke appeared more in a daze, in thought.

I, on the other hand, was a virtual vat of questions. But I asked none of them. The answers could wait. Not that I didn’t want to know, I did. The informational source I found in Tanner Niles wasn’t going anywhere, or at least very far. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. No more conversations about death, radiation poisoning, bombs, nuclear winter, children lost, a nation destroyed… I just wanted it to stop.

Stop.

At least for the evening as I sat with Burke and Tanner.

Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, to something better, was useless. Each subject, no matter how chipper, had a cloud of doom and remembrance hanging over its topical head. If we talked about cars, we were reminded of the hustle and bustle of a defunct civilization. To recall a fun family vacation, was to remember we would never have that again. Even trying to bring up a silly children’s dinosaur program, was a painful reminder of how many children would never sit religiously around a television set again.

Would we ever again get annoyed at some strange man dressed in costume, dancing and singing ridiculous songs? How I longed for just one more day of watching Simon, chuckling around my living room, tossing his stuffed animal while reciting every word to every tune the dinosaur man played.

Never again. Not in my lifetime.

We ended up talking about cancelled sitcoms of the past. It was the safest subject we could find. It didn’t make a difference if the world had ended or not, those old shows weren’t coming back.

I wanted to embrace Tanner when he departed. Maybe for a thank you, a “Please, come back”, or even be careful, but he merely cupped my hand between both of his and gave a gentle handshake.

Goodnight.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a good night, it was a frightening night. The aspect of things to come set my mind whirling in confusion, and I tried to think of preparation steps we all needed to take. But planning was difficult. There was no World Wide Web, or library to race to for further information. The truth was, I needed answers to questions I should have asked. The best I could do, to ease my mind, was to jot down some random thought regarding the impending situation.

Sleeping was difficult that night. I did a lot of wondering. Briefly I discussed the situation with Burke, and he suggested we wait to tell the others. Wait until the time was closer and we had more information. There was no need in getting them upset, or worried.

I agreed.

Finally, I slept, not very deeply, nor for very long. I awoke before everyone else and just as Burke was slipping into the room to rest. That told me the sun had risen.

I found the remainder of Tanner coffee and heated it. At the kitchen table, I sat with my ‘I’ll be there’ notebook and wrote my next entry to Mona.

‘Nine Days AB. Dear Mona:  Great news! We found your son. He is alive and well. Today we look for Tammy’s son. Hurry to us, we are leaving soon. Jo.’

Again, it wasn’t much, but it took me forever to write it. Perhaps because I was torn on whether or not to tell Mona about what was coming our way. Fear of someone reading my notebook and discovering that information was my reason for abstaining from telling her.

Rod was the first one up. He immediately did his bucket shower then joined me for some coffee. My mood must have been obvious, because Rod made attempts to make me smile. He almost had me with his comment about how the sanitizer made his penis tingle. I was certain, later on I would laugh at that.

“OK, spill it. What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing really. I’m just distressed about going with Tammy to the station to look for her son.”

“That alone would make anyone distressed.”

I nodded, then I looked at him. Suddenly I felt guilty for not being honest about what had me down. “Rod. I’m sorry.”

“For?” he asked.

“I just lied to you.”

“About?”

“Why I’m down.”

“So, you’re not distressed about going to the aid station?”

“No. Yes.” Shaking my head, I searched for the words. “I am distressed. But… last night, you fell asleep early. Tanner stopped by.”

“Tanner? The doctor from the station? He stopped by last night and now you’re down. Did he make a pass at you?”

“What? No,” I said shocked. “No. Gees. We were talking and he told me some things.”

Knowingly, Rod nodded. “I see. Well, Jo, you have to understand. The man right now is working with dying people. He probably chatted away as a form of therapy. I know what he told you was upsetting, Lord knows I wouldn’t want to hear it. Maybe next time you can suggest…”

“No.” I lifted my hand. “It’s not that. See, he…”

Tammy’s entrance into the kitchenette made me stop speaking. She stared at me.

“Tammy?” I called her attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Who the hell was that man knocking on my door last night?” she had bite to her mood.

Before sipping his coffee, Rod peered at me and whispered. “Nasty mood.”

After widening my eyes to Rod in agreement, I answered Tammy’s question, “Tanner Niles. He’s a doctor at the rescue station.”

Tammy nearly growled. “What the hell is the matter with you, Jo? I was trying to rest, to heal. Stay out of my business. I told you I didn’t need medical attention.”

Rod huffed, and then suddenly, he sprang to his feet. “Maybe you don’t realize the extent of the medical attention you do need.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Tammy barked. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No, I’m not.” Rod took a defensive tone. “And I probably don’t know a hell of a lot. But I know this much, toots.” He pointed and nodded. “Take a look in the mirror. Look at yourself.” With a swipe of his hand, he grabbed his cup of coffee and muttered, “Then take a good whiff.” He sighed out. “Excuse me.” Turning from us, Rod walked away.

Such a disgusted expression crossed Tammy’s face as she watched Rod leave. “What the hell is he talking about? A whiff?”

“Tammy…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped. “I just… I just want to get to the station to look for my son. Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I am,” Sadly, I nodded and stood. “I just want to throw some different clothes on. Give me a minute.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

Tammy’s words made me stop. ‘When I’m ready?’ Going to the rescue station was a chore in itself. Going there, looking at every cot, every face, in search of her son was another story. For that, I would never be ready.

* * *

We all suffered losses—Spouses, children, parents, siblings, friends—not a single person was immune. Even the individual that had no one could mourn for the loss of the world. Everyone suffered.

I once read somewhere that there were two instances when one’s true personality would emerge. One was in drunkenness, the other was during grief.

Tammy was a horrible drunk. Because of that, she stopped drinking heavily. When the liquor consumed her, she became mean spirited, bold and aggressive. She was worse in her grieving state.

I excused her behavior to her fever, infection, pain—mostly to the fact that she could not find her child. But if the truth were known, she was horrible. Where Nicky’s bout with dementia was perky, happy and entertaining, Tammy’s was hostile and abusive. She worsened with each step we took to the station.

Nothing positive or encouraging could be said, Tammy would refute it adamantly. The fact that my children were alive and well, and her son was lost, seemed to make it into her every argument. Whether it was a founded statement or not, she weaved it in perfectly, pitting my kismet against her misfortune. When I mentioned the station wasn’t too far, Tammy retorted that I didn’t mind the walk because I wasn’t venturing to possible heartache. When I told of the little sleep I had, and how I didn’t feel tired, Tammy informed me it was because I could rest easy, my children were fine. I should never have said I was hungry, because Tammy reminded me that at least my appetite wasn’t dampened by the lost whereabouts of my family.

In all admittance, my retaliatory responses lacked guts. I firmly believe that if Burke had accompanied us to the station, he probably would have shot Tammy somewhere en route.

The great divide. It happened at the station. Sick, fevered, it didn’t matter, she crossed a line. Tammy’s words literally left me unable to move. If a physical manifestation of what I felt had occurred, my heart would have been lying on the ground.

“Do we want to split up, or do this together?” I asked. We had arrived at the station and into the throes of tents.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tammy headed in no particular direction.

“Tanner said the patients aren’t divided in any certain way.”

Tammy kept on walking.

“Maybe there’s a list of kids.” I suggested. “Tanner may know. Why don’t we find Tanner…”

“Enough!” her voice blared at me as she spun around. “Will you just stop!”

My mouth moved in a loss of what to say, how to react. If it was possible, I believe she brought a silence to the station. “Tammy?”

Tammy charged my way. “Tanner this. Tanner that. I’m tired of hearing about Tanner!”

“But …”

“How dare you use my kid as your excuse to come see this man.” She walked closer to me searing her words. “You could care less if we find Mick. You just want to see Tanner! The world’s over, Jo, and you’re scouring for your next love interest! It makes sense; you never really loved Sam, so of course you’d be running after this Tanner. Sam’s body is not even cold. But I’m sure you’ll justify it.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’re being like this!” Tammy screamed. “You have it all! You’ve always had it all! I wish to God, Jo, one of your children would die so you could have one inkling of what everyone else is going through!” With a hard pivot turn of her body, Tammy stormed off through the masses.

I didn’t follow. I couldn’t. All I wanted to do was get out of there, turning to do so, I saw him. Tanner. He stood only a foot away. Did he hear? He had to. The look on his face screamed that he overheard. The best I could muster up was a pucker of my lips. I felt them engorge, precluding my impending tears.

Tanner said nothing, he took a step to me, held out his hand, and I took it.

* * *

He brought me to his home. A hollow tin trailer set off to the side of the rescue station. Four cots were partitioned off with brown curtains. Which one was Tanner’s; I didn’t know.

He pulled out a chair at the small table, and I sat down.

“So, this is where you live.” I tried to make conversation.

A metal cup was set before me. I watched as Tanner poured a small amount of liquid in there for me. I didn’t need to see what it was; the smell of the whiskey was strong.

“Doctor’s orders. Drink it,” he said.

Hesitantly, I brought the cup to my lips.

Tanner sat at the table with me. He lit a cigarette, placed the lighter on the table, folded his hands and looked at me. “Get rid of her, Jo.”

The sip I had begun to take, slipped into my throat over my shock. I coughed. “What?”

“Get rid of her. As cold and as callous as that sounds, do it. Mentally stressful conditions are just as detrimental as anything else in a shelter. She adds that stress. It’s survival of the fittest and strongest now.”

“But she is strong.”

“Oh, yeah. Real strong.” Tanner chuckled in sarcasm. “Strong with her words, her anger. And strong enough to pretend she is some sort of martyr.”

“She just doesn’t want help.”

“Then there’s nothing you can do. I saw her, Jo. She looks like everyone else. If she doesn’t get help, inside of a week she’ll be dead. And if she’s in your shelter, she’ll die there.”

“I can’t just abandon her. I can’t.” I took a sip. “She didn’t do anything but say things.”

“Jo,” Tanner softened his voice. “Her words were as brutal as any weapon. You think it will get better?” he shook his head. “You tell Burke. You tell Burke exactly what she said to you and let him make that call.”

“He’ll kill her.”

“Nah.” Tanner facially disagreed. “He will however refuse to let her in the shelter again, and that isn’t all that bad of a thing.”

“Oh, Tanner. I wished it was that simple.”

Tanner nodded. “Think about it. OK?” he stood up. “But I’d better get back. Before I do, I have something for you. When you told me last night you’d be here, I got it ready. Hold on.” He lifted a finger, and walked behind a curtain.

I finished my whiskey and stood as well. He didn’t take long, a few seconds. When he returned, the first thing he handed me was a manila envelope.

“Here. These are the cloud statistics I was telling you about.”

I felt the thickness of the envelope. “Seems like a lot.”

“There’s notes in there too. It will occupy your nights, that’s for sure.”

“Have you read it?” I asked.

“Nah. I got the overview. You read and be our expert. OK?”

“I’ll try, thank you.”

“One more thing.” He lifted a small tan pouch with a strap. “For Nicky. In here, is pretty much what you need. A bottle of numbing solution, it’s small so use it sparingly. Some morphine, and antibiotics. They are pill form, but if you get her mouth numb, she should take them. Up her ration of water, bed rest, warmth and calm. She should pull through this.”  He brought the strap over my head, then adjusted the pouch so it hung under my jacket. “OK. We have to go.” laying a hand on my back, he led me to the door.

“Tanner?” I stopped before we left. “Without upsetting you, can I ask why you are doing this?”

“Lots of reasons I suppose. Nothing in particular, and nothing that chivalrous. It’s just me. Jo, I don’t know if you realize this or not, but…” He paused in opening the door. “I’d like to join up with you guys. Starting when this thing hits. If you’ll have me.”

There was zero hesitation in my reply, “Tanner, of course we’ll have you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yes, I did.” He chuckled.

I smiled. “Well, OK, you did. But, still, we welcome you.”

“Thanks.” He gave a nod and walked me outside. “Be careful heading home.”

“I will, but I think I might do what I came here for, and look for Tammy’s kid.”

“Good luck then.” He reached out and gave a gentle squeeze to my arm. “I’ll see you later.” He backed up, and then stopped. “Jo. For what it’s worth, Tammy’s words were wrong. Her implications about you—wrong. I am very glad I met you, all of you. So far, nothing I’ve seen you do was done out of selfishness. That’s my opinion. Take it for what it’s worth.” With a flash of a soft smile, Tanner turned and walked away.

I didn’t respond, not even with a ‘thank you’. Clutching my manila envelope close to my chest, I turned and sought my direction again. Though I failed to speak it, I did appreciate his words. He said to take them for what they were worth, and what Tanner said, at the right moment, was worth more than he realized.

* * *

The question of where I would begin was answered for me as soon as I stepped into the main section of the rescue station.

A crowd had gathered. They shoved to see something, despite the military’s attempts to move them back. Something inside of me screamed that it had to do with Tammy. I feared that she collapsed, found Mick, caused a scene. I moved forward to the crowd certain that the worst had occurred. I made it within ten feet when I recognized Johnny Welsh.

Johnny was a neighbor of Tammy’s. A friend to her son, possibly best friend, he was a bigger boy and easy to spot. He slipped from the confusion.

“Oh, shit.” I darted his way. “Johnny!”

He was looking over his shoulder to the people as if he had something to do with the trouble. He turned when I called him the second time.

“Johnny.” I hurried to him.

“Oh, Jo.” He smiled. “Wow, Jo. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?” I asked, knowing he was ill to an extent. His loss of hair, poorly healed burns showed that.

“Getting better. Hey, did you see Mrs. Smithton?”

“Tammy. Yes. Did you?”

Johnny whistled. “Did I ever. I didn’t know she didn’t know. I thought she was here for help. I didn’t want to be the one who told her.” He rambled so fast I couldn’t stop him. “I was just sitting with my father. When I told her, she flipped out. Pushed his cot. Then the Chinese nurse came over. She shoved her, screamed at me and took off saying she’d see for herself.”

I was making some heads or tails out of what Johnny was saying, but still wasn’t sure. “Are your father and Chinese woman OK?”

“Oh, yeah, I think the Chinese lady is fine. I’m not sure. She’s laying over there. They’re checking on her.” He shrugged.

“Johnny, what did you tell Mrs. Smithton?”

Johnny drew solemn. “The truth, Jo. The truth.”

“About?”

“Mick.”

I nodded. “What did you tell her?”

Johnny let out a deep breath. “She asked me if I saw him the day of the bombs. I told her ‘yes’, because I was with him. We cut school. Mick wanted to wait in line for concert tickets. The line opened at ten. We took the subway down, but I came back so I could sneak the car from my dad. I said I’d be back for him.”

“What time did you leave him?” I asked.

“Nine. Right after rush hour.”

“Do you know what happened to Mick?”

“He had to have died, Jo. He had to. I told Mrs. Smithton that. That’s when she got mad and said she’d go see for herself.”

“What makes you think he died?” I questioned further.

“Because of where I left him. At the arena. That’s center of town.”

My eyes closed. “Ground zero.”

20. Impending Fate

Tammy returned just after six in the evening. For some reason, I thought she was gone forever. That she had taken off, searching for Mick, and would never return. But she did. Silently too. Informing none of us about her discoveries regarding Mick. She went up to the first floor and didn’t come back down. I asked everyone if they thought we needed to do a suicide watch with her. Burke ignored me. Craig chuckled. Rod, he said he didn’t recommend it giving her mood, and Dan was crude, stating his opinion that suicide would be the answer for Tammy. Davy thought if our focus was going to be on someone that was ill, it should be on Nicky because she wanted help.

How right he was. Even in pain, Nicky allowed for our aid. The numbing solution helped in her taking the medication. That was step one. Step two remained to be seen. It was a ‘wait and see’ with her.

For as much as I did not want to speak to Tammy, I didn’t want anything to happen to her. I walked up to her door, knocked once, told her not to respond, then I informed her that outside the door were two antibiotics, two valium, and a bottle of water. Her choice to take them or not. When I snuck up an hour later, the medication was gone.

It was a weird thing, but my mind kept on going to all those old nineteen fifties movies about nuclear war. One especially. ‘The Cyclops Man’. Though a ‘B’ horror flick at best, it rang eerily true to some extent. In the movie, the man was exposed to an atomic bomb. The radiation made him grow, but it also made him insane. Not that Tammy was a towering fifty feet, but she most certainly had hit a maddening stage, just like the character in that movie.

Even if she was healed, Tanner believed there was no turning her back. In his opinion Tammy had exceeded the normal boundaries of realism and rationalization. Mrs. Yu needed six stitches, and Tammy’s attack upon her was a warning. He cautioned again not to let her back in the shelter. He asked me to tell Burke everything. I promised Tanner that I would think about it. But by the time I arrived home, I couldn’t tell Burke. He was already in a fit of anger that Tammy had left me at the rescue station alone.

I was anxious about reading the documentation that Tanner had given me. However, since Burke and I decided not to tell the others right away, I knew I couldn’t pull out those papers. Waiting had its advantages. It gave me time to get informed.

Everyone settled at his or her usual time, and then I held out a little longer before grabbing a small lantern and positioning myself at the kitchenette table. It was quiet. When I pulled out the documents I was astounded at what I needed to make heads or tails of. I wasn’t a scientist, and I wondered if I would be able to interpret what was given to me.

At first, I leafed through the stack, and then I spread them about. The second time I went through them, the data made more sense. By the third run through I was taking notes. That’s when Davy found me.

In an unusual occurrence, he was without Simon. He sat with me and asked what I was doing. By all accounts I was busted. I could have searched for a story to tell him, some tale or lie. But I didn’t. I was honest and blunt. I told him, “Davy, nuclear winter is heading our way. These are the stats of where it’s been.”

Davy projected no shock or surprise. In fact, he looked at me as if what I told him wasn’t a news bulletin. I was very grateful that I opened up to my son. He scooted his chair closer and together we hovered those documents.

It was evident—through sporadic handwritten scribbles—there was some who tried to blame the severity of the cloud on multitudes of different things. One person even attributed topography to the fluctuation. Good in theory. Not on paper. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see what was happening. Like Tanner had said, it was moving our way. Losing potency along its course, but it was still going to be a killer.

The Army gathered their statistics in a raw form, but it was the best that they could do. I was impressed. A world torn asunder yet, someone was still running about with a clipboard, collecting information, recording it for others. The newest history books in the making. Ironically, the information assembled was going to help preserve the future generation that would read that information.

In a way it was fascinating. Images bounced off of functioning satellites provided a view of the cloud as it moved across the country. From the photocopied images the cloud looked like a huge snowstorm that extended from the top of the world to the bottom. Occasional paragraphs of reports informed us that the military used some sort of land rover to survey populated areas. The rover would roll in just before the arrival of the cloud, then dig in and roll back out after it was clear.

In the beginning the nuclear cloud held tight over the west coast teetering in which direction it would move. My guess was, fingers were crossed that it would head west, hit the pacific and go directly to China where it belonged. It didn’t.

They started the reports in Utah. The scariest of all the data came from Salt Lake City. The army suggested that sixty percent of the area’s population survived the blast. Amazing. Sixty percent. Then came the cloud. For four days it loomed over the city. Radiation levels skyrocketed to near two hundred rads per hour and temperatures dove to minus sixty degrees. When the radiation dropped, temperatures rose, and the cloud moved on… the army moved in. The city was dead. Rovers rolled out, calling over speakers for those who could hear to ‘come on out’.

Nineteen people responded.

Things were brighter in Dallas. Radiation levels peaked at one hundred forty and temperatures only made it to minus fifty. The last count, twenty-seven hundred people had checked into a rescue station. Population figures hadn’t arrived from Chicago, but they boasted better news. Their rads only hit one hundred. However Indianapolis was the winner in warmth, they dipped to a mere minus thirty-five.

Though there were numerous reported cities, the statistics stopped in Indiana.

It was doom situation, but the progression of the cloud brought a progression of hope.

Davy and I sat for hours over those papers, until the sun came up. It amazed me that with each passing hour, the more level headed he and I became. Plotting and planning, what needed done, and how we would implement those plans. Detail after detail. Miniscule to large.

We were our own scientific team. Deciphering what we read, putting together logical theories based on facts. We deducted our own conclusion of when the cloud would arrive and what level of vengeance it would bring.

We gave our best guesses.

Sitting with Davy, discussing the situation was a dose of medicine that I needed. We were focusing on survival, something we knew we were getting quite good at. There wasn’t time to panic, because our time and energy would best be used in getting things ready. All the worrying in the world wasn’t going to change things.

Fact:  It was coming.

We had to buckle down, prepare and brace ourselves. Everyone one of us had made it through a big hurdle, and there was no reason to believe we wouldn’t make it through another.

21. Digging In

We were ready. After taking an entire night to get informed about the impending situation, I told the others. They handled it well. For the most part, all but Tammy. She scoffed at the notion, argued that it was something from a sci-fi movie, and when I showed her the facts that were presented to me, she smacked away my hand sending the papers flying. I didn’t have to say anything, Burke said it all. When Tammy stated we were being ridiculous for getting ready, Burke merely told her, ‘unless you’re too sick, dying, or a small child, you will help us. If not, then anything that we do in preparation, will be benefits you will not reap when the time comes.’

Everybody helped out and pitched in. We didn’t expect Nicky to aid, she was too sick. But after a couple days on the antibiotics, though ill, her strength was getting better and she took over the task of inventory. Tammy did as little as possible. Simon and Matty played organizers of all the stuff. Davy joined the ranks of the men by being a laborer.

We spent days gathering items from other homes. Things that we felt weren’t contaminated, like: blankets, wood, furniture that could be burned in the fireplace. Everything from my basement was moved to Mark’s house so it wouldn’t freeze. Craig made radio call after radio call spreading word throughout the airwaves of the approaching nuclear cloud. We hoped that people heard. No one responded. Dan worked diligently for days creating a makeshift outhouse over the drainage pipe in the garage. Hating to say it, he did well.

We covered all angles… literally. Even though the basement windows of Mark’s home were blocked out from the inside, Burke, Craig and Rod heaped dirt over the outside portion of the windows and all around the basement circumference of the house. Mattresses were brought in to cover the doorways when the time came. We were ready.

Then it grew cold.

Late night, thirteen days AB, the change occurred. Tanner had stopped by for a visit and when he was leaving, it hit. As if in a snap of a finger, the temperature began to drop. I hoped it was a fluke, but Burke did a readout and the radiation has move to six rads per hour. It was a matter of a half a day, and it would be upon us. Tanner assured me he would be back, that he had things to take care of. I didn’t want him to leave because I knew that come forty rads, Burke was locking us down tight. No one gets out. No one gets in.

I was almost afraid to face the morning. Although I remained relatively calm, I was in no way disillusioned over the magnitude of what we faced.

The daily alarm on Davy’s clock chimed at 10:15 precisely. It had been ten hours since the first symptom hit. The sun barely peeked through the overcast sky, and without a doubt it was getting darker. The little hanging thermometer outside the basement door had frosted over and bottomed out at minus ten degrees.

Davy created a chart, and he had started keeping track of the temperature and radiation changes. Every time Craig or Burke went out, Davy documented it. He told me how he was going to log—not just readings—but all that occurred in the shelter in the midst of the ‘dug in’ duration. That log would prove interesting when it was all said and done.

Not long after the alarm clock went off, Craig went out. He returned exasperating a vocal ‘burr’ and shut the door.

“That’s it.” Craig said, setting down the Geiger counter. “We’re maxing. Lock it down.”

Burke nodded once. “I have the upstairs door covered. Even though fuckin Tammy is making the stairs her home.”

“Garage or this door?” Craig asked.

“Um, you take this one, I’ll finish up the garage,” Burke said.

Craig followed Burke’s dictate and headed to the garage. Burke began to follow behind.

“Wait. No.” I reached out grabbing Burke’s arm. “Leave access for Tanner.”

“If Tanner ain’t here by the time I bolt us down, Tanner don’t get in.” Burke stated firm.

“You can’t do that. He’s coming. We know that.”  I argued. “He brought clothes, a sleeping bag…”

Burke walked away. “He’s not here.”

“Well you can’t lock him out.

“Yeah, Jo, I can.” Burke headed into the garage, just as Craig walked out carrying a mattress.

I spun in confusion on who to stop. Burke or Craig. Two mattress were already placed over the garage door, all Burke had to do was put up the other two and secure them with the old furniture we had gathered in there.

“Burke…”

“Jo. Sorry.”

“Asshole.” I stormed out and tried my other option. “Craig.” I called his name as I made it back to he door. “Please don’t secure that…”

A triple knock rang out.

“A ha!” I flew to the door. “Tanner?”

“Yeah.” Tanner called from the other side. “Jo, let me in the garage instead.”

Hollering, “I’ll meet you there.” I gave a pat to Craig’s back, instructed him to continue and raced to the garage. “Don’t secure it. Tanner’s here. Lift the garage door.”

The grumble was loud and Burke stopped sliding the dresser against the mattresses. “I’m killing him.” The four mattresses were already in place and Burke began to move them aside. I helped him the best I could. When the door was clear enough to open, Burke grabbed the handle and lifted the garage door.

It raised a little over two feet when Tanner yelled out, “OK, that’s enough. I’ll slide through. Grab these.”

“Grab what?” Burke asked.

“Does he sound strange to you?” I asked. “Mechanical.”

“Christ, Jo, I’m not paying attention.” Burke snapped and jumped back when a medium size box slid in. “What the hell is this?” A knapsack followed it. “I thought he brought what he needed.”

I shrugged and watched as Tanner slid in last. He wore a shiny silver radiation suit and resembled something from a movie. Once in, he stood and closed the garage door.

Though Burke immediately began to cover the garage door with the mattresses, it didn’t stop him from bitching. “What the fuck took you so long?”

The ceasing of an oxygen flow into his suit caused a ‘hiss’, and then Tanner unzipped his headgear and removed it. “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The rescue station was pandemonium.” He turned his back to me. “Jo, could you unzip me.”

“Sure.” I reached for his zipper and undid it.

“Thanks.” Tanner stepped from the suit. “Plus, I had to get some things. This outfit was one of them.”

Burke shook his head. “Did you stop to think that if you weren’t running so late, you wouldn’t need the suit?”

Tanner smiled. “Nah, I would have still brought the suit. One of will have to go out and do a reading in a day or two.”

It was a response, that’s all, a complimentary one to Tanner. But, no sooner did I say, “Oh, good thinking,” an echo developed in the room.

Nasal, mocking, and barely audible, Burke whispered, “Oh good thinking.”

My mouth dropped open. “Oh my God are you rude.”

“I’m tired, that’s what I am,” Burke said and started to walk out. “Wake me up in a few.”

Shaking my head, I looked up to Tanner and tried to make light of the Burke attitude. “And he wonders why he doesn’t have any friends.”

Burke was out of the garage, but he still managed to add a comment. “They’re all dead, that’s why I don’t have any friends.”

Tanner chuckled. “His mood will change, once he gets some rest. He stays up most of the time.”

“I know. Craig has offered to take watch. Rod. Even Dan. But Burke won’t have it.”

“Understandable.” Tanner bent down and picked up his knapsack. “Shall we leave the garage? It’s pretty cold in here.”

“Absolutely. Do you need help?”

“Um… yeah. Carry this.” He handed me the knapsack. “I’ll get the box.”

“What did you bring?” I asked.

“Well, you’re holding medical supplies. And this…” Tanner attempted the box then lifted it. “A surprise to brighten the mood at times. But… you can say it’s mainly for the kids.” Saying no more, carrying the box, Tanner walked out.

* * *

Being intrigued over the box made me stoop to devious measures to find out the contents. Tanner was reluctant to tell me what it was, so I had Simon ask.

Tanner opened the box at the request of the inquisitive three-year-old. At first we all were envious. Not a single one of us didn’t salivate with jealousy watching the kids enjoy their gift. Simon inadvertently gloated the most. Smiling from ear to ear, his little face was plastered with tomato sauce. He rolled his fingers over his plate, and brought the remnants he acquired to his mouth. We all watched.

“Like that, Simon?” Tanner asked.

“Oh, boy.” Simon nodded.

Matty glanced up with a smile. “Thank you for the spaghetti, Tanner Niles.”

“Yeah,” Davy added. “These are really cool.”

Tanner had brought a case of M.R.E.’s. Meals Ready to Eat. Stocked and used by the military, each thick eight-inch pouch contained a main course, a snack, desert, gum, matches, coffee, and other things. Tanner presented the case to Davy.

“Yours,” Tanner explained. “There are twenty four all together. I recommend that you open each pouch, separate and group the items. The adults control the main rations, you three control these. Store them in your room. Now, I don’t want you guys to live off of these things. OK? I want you to use them as a treat and maybe even down the road, a few of those items could be used to barter with adults.” He winked.

“I like these.” Matty said as her fingers moved the ten M & M’s allocated to her. “I vote we never share spaghetti.”

Rod sat watching, he chomped almost bitterly on his beef jerky. “Does anyone else think this is unfair?” he asked. “I would like spaghetti too. I feel… I feel wounded.” He took another bite. “My God, what I wouldn’t give for one of those M & M’s.”

Surprising us all, Simon stood up, walked over to Rod and handed him an M & M. “Here.”

Rod gasped as the candy lay in his hand. “Look how sweet. Now I’m going to cry.”

I laughed.

Dan did not. He spoke up with objection, “Does anyone else see this as wrong? To me he’s pitting the children against us. Controlling them. Is that what you’re doing, Tanner Niles?”

Before Tanner or myself could say anything, Craig interjected, “How do you figure that?” he cross examined Dan. “There’s no malice here. He gave them MRE’s.”

“To barter.” Dan said. “You heard him. Barter with us. Really, he’s instilling in these kids that we can be bought with simple luxury food items. How ridiculous. What in the world could these kids try to bribe us for?”

“Silence.” Matty spoke up. “I’ll give you three M&M’s if you stop complaining for an hour. Starting now.”

“Matty.” I gasped out. “That’s…” Before the word ‘rude’ could slip out of my mouth, I watched Dan stand up and walk to Matty.

“Deal.” He held out his hand.

Tanner chuckled with a smirk. “Actually, I have an ulterior motive,” he said. “Nutrition. These things are packed with nutrition. Kids, they don’t need to eat as much as adults, but they need nutrients more than us. Right now, Davy, Matty and Simon, they’re going good. I just want to try to keep them that way.”

Rod joked, “And make them into little Nazis. Controlling us. Look how easy Dan was bought and sold. My God, who’s next?”

Dazed, Craig spoke. “Nicky.”

Rod shrugged. “Though I don’t see it, Nicky could…”

“No.” Craig stood up. “Nicky. What’s wrong?”

I turned and looked. Nicky had walked into the room. Her face was pale. It was evident that she was not only shaken, but also crying. “Nicky?” I questioned and stood up along with Rod and Tanner.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Nicky rambled. “I can’t…”

“Stop.” Craig approached her. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Nicky shook her head.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Tammy.” Nicky wheezed out.

Rod stumbled back. “She’s dead.”

“Worse,” Nicky said.

“Worse than dead?” Rod questioned.

Nicky nodded, then her voice dropped to a frightened gravel. Her eyes shifted to each one of us as she spoke, “I saw her. I… saw her.” Head lowering, Nicky sobbed. “Someone has to do something.”

Craig tried to console, “Nicky, what happened.”

Nicky took a few breaths; they shivered through her. “I walked into the bathroom. I didn’t know she was there. She was getting dressed. I acted as if nothing was wrong. But I saw her. It was horrible.”

Raised, eyebrows, Rod gave me a look that all but said, ‘well’. He exhaled. “She was naked. That’s explains the horror.”

“Rod.” I said his name through clenched teeth. “That’s not what she meant.”

“Yes. Yes.” Nicky nodded fast. “She was naked. I saw it. I saw it.”

Rod covered his ears. “I don’t think I need to hear this.”

“Someone does.” Nicky burst out then raced to Tanner, and grabbed his shoulder. “Tanner,” she spoke in desperation. “Please. You have to see her arm.”

At first, I suppose I thought Nicky had gone into another phase of dementia. Choosing to ignore it, like Rod, I started to walk away until she said something about Tammy’s arm. She had my attention. She had everyone’s attention. Our curiosity piqued.

* * *

We all listened intently as Nicky described what she saw. Her revelation of Tammy alarmed us all, more so Tanner. He sought out Tammy. She had taken refuge in the small hall that held the staircase. At the closed door, we all pleaded, beckoning Tammy to open up. Not only did she resist, she was adamant about there being nothing wrong with her arm. Our attempts were disheartening, not to mention loud. The struggle came to an end when Burke had enough.

Awoken too early, he blasted out of the bedroom, and used a combination of every swear word he knew to ask what we were doing. After explaining to him the dilemma, he approached the door. Burke wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“You got ten seconds!” Burke yelled. “If you don’t open the goddamn door within ten seconds I’m taking it down. You hear me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!”

“Then open the fuckin door and prove it.”

“I said…” The door opened slightly. “There’s nothing…”

Burke gave no opportunity to Tammy. Pushing his foot into the door, he edged it open, reached in and yanked Tammy out.

To say she had a violent reaction was putting it mildly. She flung about as her words jumbled together in her loud argument.

“I don’t care!” Burke screamed. “You will let us…” He took hold of her arm. “See this arm.”

Just as he took hold of her glove, Tammy created her own defeat. When she yanked back her arm, the glove stayed within Burke’s grip, and her hand was exposed.

We all froze.

If her hand was any indication of the rest of her arm, it was worst than we imagined. How did she let it get that bad? The fingers that poked through were not only swollen and peeling, they were black.

22. Delusion of Strength

Tammy didn’t want to come into the living room. After the exposure, she slammed the door. Blocking us out and blocking out anything we had to say.

“Gangrene.” Tanner explained as we sat and listened to what he had to say. “There’s no turning back the infection. None. The arm has to go.”

Craig questioned. “Has to go. You mean cut it off?”

“Yes.” Tanner nodded.

“How?” Craig asked.

“It would be a raw procedure at best.” Tanner said. “We have an ax…”

It was reactionary, but I cringed vocally. “You can’t do that. What? You’re just gonna chop it off.”

“Not me.” Tanner pointed to Burke. “Him. He’s got the strength to make a clean cut in one hard swing.”

Craig continued to ask questions. “Won’t he shatter the bone?”

“Hopefully not.” Tanner answered. “If he comes down hard and fast enough he won’t.”

Burke shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“That’s fine.” Tanner nodded. “I can try to do it. But you’ll have to do my part, and do it fast. Part of that will involve touching her.”

“I handle the ax.” Burke said.

“Are you gonna take it off at the shoulder?” Craig asked further. “The black goes past her elbow?”

“No. Just to the bicep.” Tanner motioned on his own arm where he wanted to make the removal.

“What about infection?” Craig queried further. “Wouldn’t you want to take it further just…”

Burke’s hand slammed down on the table. “Enough. The man’s the doctor not you.”

Tanner lifted his hand. “That’s OK. I would like to take it off at the joint, but that presents blood control problems. So we chance it and take it off mid bicep. Plus, to be honest, there’s a good chance it won’t even make a difference.”

“So why do it?” Craig asked.

Calmly, Tanner responded, “So she doesn’t die. She will within two or three days if we don’t remove the arm.”

Dan who was silent, spoke up, “I say let her die. Don’t waste the time.”

Huffing out, I shot a hard glance Dan’s way. “You would. You would want to take the easy route out. No effort.”

“Jo.” Tanner interceded peacefully. “As callous as it sounds. He’s right. But her death poses a problem. We can’t have her die in the shelter. She’s already a health risk to us all as she is. Let me explain something. When a body gives way, so do all of its bodily functions. Tammy is a very ill woman. She dies; she’ll have to be removed. Not only will we risk radiation by taking her out, we have to clean up after her. Risk.”

Burke exhaled loudly and sat back. “Then there is no choice.”

Tammy’s “Bullshit!” rang in the room. “Bullshit. It’s my life. My arm.”

Rod tried to be the voice of reason. “If you don’t let them take the arm, you will die. Plain and simple.”

“Then I die.” Tammy said with edge.

“So you’re giving up?” Rod asked. “Not gonna fight?”

Tammy hesitated before answering. “No, I’m not gonna fight. And that’s my choice.” She began to walk away.

Burke stood up. “You’re right.”

Tammy stopped.

“You’re right.” Burke continued in a strangely calm manner. “You have a choice. Two choices. You lose the arm, or you leave this shelter.”

“You can’t order me out.”

“The hell I can’t.” Burke moved to her. His voice was stern yet in control. “You staying here with that arm like that is a risk. You dying here is a bigger risk. You wanna keep the arm, you wanna opt for death. Fine. I don’t give a shit. But if you go with that decision, then you go. Period. Pack your shit up and leave. I won’t have you die here. I won’t. There is no choice for me when it comes to everyone here. If you don’t go, I’ll take you out. Make your choice and make it now.”

Sometimes all it takes is a child.

In the silence of the room, filled with the tension of debate, Simon poked through. He walked directly to Tammy. “Please get better.” He lifted his little hand to her. “I’ll give you my candy.”

* * *

Tammy didn’t take Simon’s candy, but she made the decision to give up the limb that was delivering her death sentence. A surgical team was needed, and we were it. We all had our parts. Each one of us played an intricate role somehow. A supporting cast in a bizarre off Broadway production, and Tammy was the star.

To say it was less than barbaric would be a lie. The operating room was the garage. A tent was laid out the floor, and Tammy was stripped down. She wore only a sheet wrapped around her body. A tourniquet was placed at the top of Tammy’s bicep, while her arm was secured to a two by four—a cushion for Burke when he made his surgical sweep. An old cast iron frying pan was tossed in the fireplace. It glowed red-hot, while Dan stood by to grab it and run it in when Tanner yelled ‘now’. Rod and I were the support and comfort duo, positioned by Tammy’s head, ready to hold her down. Tanner—with only a few measly medical supplies—knelt at Tammy’s feet. Nicky had a dirty job, she volunteered for it and none of us argued. She held a bucket of water, which she was to use sparingly to wash away the abundance of blood. Craig was the support, on call in that garage to take over any position needed. Except Burke’s. Nobody wanted Burke’s job. Even if any of us had the strength to pull it off, we still would turn it down. I wondered as we prepared if it was a task Burke would regret for the rest of his life. Would he dream of it? Would it haunt him? Or, possibly, would he not even give it a second thought?

It was an all-go, the time was at hand, and then Tammy started to react. I suppose seeing Burke raise the ax had a lot to do with it. Rod and I held her tight, but it was a struggle.

“Hold her better.” Tanner instructed.

“We’re trying.” I replied.

Burke grunted. “I can’t… if she’s gonna move her arm. Craig, stand on her hand.”

“What!” Craig gasped in shock.

Tammy’s loud, ‘No!’ was screeching as she thrashed back and forth.

Tanner held tight to Tammy’s ankles and looked at Rod and me. “Guys, come on.”

Rod snapped, “We’re trying. Can’t Nicky help…” Before Rod could even finish his sentence, Tammy swung out, knocked me back, kicked out at Tanner, and rolled to get to her feet. Rod was quick, just as Tammy stood; he swung out his legs and tripped her.

Tammy sailed face first to the ground.

I was stunned; I regained my balance and saw as Craig hurried to Tammy.

He reached for her, and she immediately fought him. “We should have knocked her out!” Craig shouted.

“We can’t.” Tanner said, reaching out trying to help control Tammy. “If we use what we have to knock her out, then we won’t have enough for her later.”

“Chance it.” Craig argued.

“After the removal, the shock will make her pass…” he grunted as he tried to hold on to her. “Pass out. Can someone help here!”

Growling almost, Tammy’s head went back and forth. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Burke raged over to her. “This is ridiculous. Fuck it. Let her go.”

“Let’s just knock her out.” Craig implored. “Tanner!”

“Fine.” Tanner gave up. “We’ll knock her out. Burke we’re knocking her out.”

“Fuck, why do I always get the dirty jobs?” he complained.

Tanner muttered in confusion. “What are you talking about? We just need to knock her out.”

“Fine!” Burke blasted, and then before anything could be said, with a tightly closed fist, he landed a solid punch square in Tammy’s jaw.

She stopped screaming, her legs wobbled, and Tammy passed out.

The garage went quiet.

Rod cleared his throat, and spoke in a whisper to me, “Well, that took care of that.”

Burke breathed heavily, looking at Tammy, a look of aggravation was across his face.

Tanner stared at Burke for a second before speaking, “We were… I meant we were gonna use… never mind.” He shook his head. “Good job. Let’s do this.”

The three men carried Tammy back over to the tent and laid her down. Positions were taken again; only this time, it seemed tenser.

Burke lifted the ax. In a raspy, low voice he called to Craig, “Can you secure the board? Please?”

Craig nodded and walked over to Tammy’s arm. He used his foot to nudge up her fingers and her slid his foot under her hand on the board. “Go on.” He said, and turned his head.

Tanner gazed up to Burke. “Don’t think about it, just do it. Put all your anger, hurt and emotions into that one swing. Got it?”

Burke nodded.

I watched Burke. He swallowed hard, and a thin line a sweat formed on his brow. Knees slightly bent, his hands gripped the handle, tensing up and releasing several times before Burke raised the ax. It was coming, Burke’s jaw tightened, and his eyes aimed. I didn’t want to watch. The flex of the muscle in Burke’s right forearm was my clue. I closed my eyes, and turned my head just as the ax ‘whooshed’ through the air. My entire body jolted when I heard the steel blade hit the concrete of the floor.

“Oh, God.” Rod groaned out. “He cut right through.”

“Now!” Tanner called out.

There was too much happening, too fast. I couldn’t think. My head spun, my stomach knotted. Tammy began to scream, loud, shrill, and ear piercing. Burke had dropped the ax and cradled his arm with a look of pain.

Tanner tried to hold down the remainder of Tammy’s arm. It squirmed beneath his hold, and despite the tourniquet, blood oozed quickly from the severed site. “Water, hurry.” Tanner instructed and lifted his eyes to Nicky.

How in the world Nicky remained so calm was beyond me. She crouched down some with the bucket tilted, and though she poured very little water, a river had formed in the garage.

Dan gave a warning call of, “Watch out! Coming through,” as he reached into the garage with a glowing red pan. He dropped the pan on the floor as pre-planned.

I just wanted it all to stop. The noise and hysteria conveyed through Tammy’s agonizing cries were unbearable.

“Someone grab the arm.” Tanner called out as he wrapped a towel around the handle of the pan. “Jo, grab the arm and hold it.”

I didn’t want to, but I was closest. I scooted over an inch, and reached out with my shaking hands. I wasn’t even sure I had enough strength to hold on to her. My fingers slid through the blood trying to get a grip, and when I did, I nodded to Tanner.

“Lift it.” Tanner said as he turned his body holding the pan. “Higher, Jo.”

I raised her arm in a higher angle.

“Turn your head.” Tanner dictated. “Now, Jo!” he brought the pan to Tammy’s arm.

I followed his instructions, but was clueless as to why I had to turn away. The reason became clear, when Tanner brought the hot pan to the open wound. Like water on a scalding surface, the sizzle of heat against wetness sent a mist of steaming blood flying my way. I felt it spray against my face, my ear. My neck tensed, and I refrained from opening my mouth to scream.

The second time Tanner brought and secured the pan to Tammy’s severed limb, he not only cauterized the wound—he brought silence to the garage. The pain and shock took hold of Tammy, her head fell to the side and she passed out. In the after moments of it all, we just stopped. Barely a breath sound was heard, or a word muttered. Reactions were suspended… we just couldn’t move.

* * *

Tanner had more than just Tammy to attend to, but she took first priority. He did the best he could, wrapping the arm, bandaging it so it would heal properly. However there were still many levels Tammy had to face. Once over the hurdle of the initial amputation, she had to fight the infection she already had, plus any that would come, compiled with radiation poisoning. Tanner wouldn’t say it, but her chances were slim. I t was a firm believer in Tammy. I knew she could beat any odds. Tanner’s other reluctant patient became Burke. He tried to hide the fact that he hurt his arm when he performed the deed, but the swelling and pain on his face grew hard to hide. Tanner called it a stress fracture. Burke called Tanner ridiculous. However they both agreed on a splint.

It had moved well into evening, and Tanner was still playing doctor. The typical nighttime silence had hit the shelter, and out of boredom, I found myself reviewing the ration log.

Seated on the floor, I looked up when Davy walked in. He was a sight for sore eyes. “Hey,” I whispered. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Simon finally fell asleep.”

“Was it because of today?” I asked.

“You can say that.”

I patted a spot on the floor next to me. “Sit with me.”

Davy did. He plopped down by my side. “It was hard to explain to him. I tried. He kept holding his ears. Good thing the screaming didn’t last too long.”

“What about Matty?” I asked. “How did she handle it?”

“Annoyed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Annoyed. She was trying to draw. And then she said something that made me laugh. It sounded like she was making a joke.”

“What was it?”

“Oh,” Davy chuckled. “She asked how many adults it took to pull off one arm.”

I stared at Davy in confusion. “I’m lost. How is that funny?”

“It’s not that it’s funny. It’s the way she said it.” Davy explained. “Like an old joke. You know, how many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb? How many adults does it take to remove one arm?”

Rod surprised us with an answer as he walked in the room. “One.” He said nonchalantly, carrying Molly, the blow up doll. “One very big, emotional German-Italian man.” He set Molly on the couch. “There. Better. She’s wearing her nightgown, now.” Rod straightened the pink flannel she wore. “I even put ponytails in her hair. Simon likes that. Is he in bed?”

Davy answered, “Yeah. He fell asleep. I’ll take her in for him when I go to bed.”

“Good.” Rod sat down on the couch next to Molly. “You know how he likes to see her when he wakes up. It’s his security blanket of sorts.”

“Speaking of bed,” I said, “I thought you were tired.”

“I am.” Rod sighed. “But I can’t sleep. Tammy is moaning from the stairwell. Burke is arguing with Tanner. Craig, Nicky, and Dan are already asleep in that room, and you know the rules. Last one in gets the floor or sleeps out here on the couch.”

“Usually you take the floor.” I stated.

“Not tonight.”  He breathed out heavily. “Tonight I am depressed. The arm thing…” He shuddered. “Got to me. I’m missing Denny terribly. I want a cup of tea. I can’t have a cup of tea. And Lord knows I need a Valium.”

Tanner made his rebuttal when he made his entrance. “You don’t need a valium.”

“I do. I’m a wreck.” Rod lifted his hand. “And I’ll have you know mister, they are prescription.”

Tanner with exhaling exhaustion sat down by the fireplace. “I saw that bag of prescription medication. I can’t believe a doctor gave you all that.”

“Doctors. Plural. I went to four,” Rod said snide. “Each gave me something different. Neither knew of the other.”

Tanner shook his head. “How did your insurance company not catch that?”

“Please.” Rod scoffed. “My plan covered the expensive pills; I paid cash for the rest. But they are prescriptions I need. You, Burke, Jo are withholding my medication. It’s not fair.”

“I understand that,” Tanner said. “However, understand they can be a useful substitute for other pills, that’s one reason we’re holding them from you.”

“Not to mention you’re a borderline addict.” I murmured. “That’s the other reason. He doesn’t need them, Tanner, trust me.”

“I do, too.” Rod defended. “Especially today. I’m oddly depressed over Denny.”

Tanner looked with question to me. “Who’s Denny?”

I answer, “He’s Rod’s partner. Rod really doesn’t talk too much about him anymore.”

“I don’t.” Rod nodded sadly. “And it isn’t because I don’t think about him. I do. I miss him. But haven’t you noticed, Jo? None of us talk about those who died. Especially the ones we weren’t around. I don’t speak of Denny or my mother. Craig, doesn’t mention his father. You…” Rod looked round then dropped his voice to a whisper, “You don’t mention Simon’s parents. If we didn’t see them die, we don’t talk about them.”

Rod was right. I took a few seconds to think about it. Trying to come up with examples to retort what he had said, I realized I couldn’t. He… was right. I wisped out a saddened, ‘oh,’ in the revelation of his words, and then muttered my thoughts out loud, “I wonder why.”

“To make it not real.” Rod answered.

“Or…” Davy added. “Give us something to hope for.”

With the lighting of a cigarette, Tanner turned to face the fire. “The whole grieving thing is gone.” He blew the smoke into the flames, allowing it to flow up and outward with the smoke from our fire. “It doesn’t feel there. You know what I mean?” He looked away from the fire to us. “We lose someone, we cry. Then we have to face and fight other things.”

I nodded and said, “I know. It’s almost as if we aren’t allowed to mourn too long.”

Rod interjected, “But no one said not to. It’s the circumstances. We know we can’t.”

“I don’t know about you guys,” Tanner said. “But I kind of feel cheated out of the whole mourning process.”

Wisdom found its way into our conversation, via a fifteen-year-old boy. “That’s because you were cheated out of the ritual,” Davy said. “Death isn’t special anymore.”

We all looked at him with question.

He continued, “Before the bombs. Before all this, let’s say Denny died. Man, we’d be all around Rod. Denny’s death would have been special. We would have felt bad, see, because our lives were normal and Rod’s wasn’t anymore. His grief would stand out. Get it? But now, Rod’s not the only one who lost a friend. Tanner’s not the only one who lost a child. My mom’s not the only one who lost a husband. No one is normal. We may have lost the ritual; we didn’t lose the grief. We’re still grieving, we’re just doing it differently, that’s all.”

Behold the truth… out of the mouths of babes.

The subject of death was placed in a different perspective right then and there. I couldn’t speak for Rod, or Tanner, but to me, Davy’s words added a sense of ‘placement’ to a topic that was so displaced.

I was proud of my son. I’d forever remember the bright words he spoke at the end of a very dark day. I grasped on to what he said, and then I grasped on to my son and embraced him.

23. Where Were You?

Seventeen days AB — Dear Mona: Tammy is finally starting to walk around. She joined us for breakfast but didn’t say much. Craig braved the radiation. Levels are still high. The data suggests four or five days of this. This is day four. Hopefully tomorrow it will be over. I pray you are waiting this out as well. Jo

I didn’t close my notebook; Burke’s banging caught my attention. He was doing something he hadn’t done yet in the shelter—cook. Taking over Dan’s ‘self proclaimed chef’ position, Burke merely stated that we needed something to lift our spirits; we had been cooped up long enough. Since we couldn’t veer from the current circumstances and go outside, we could steer off course and break the rations rule.

He said we had plenty, and even more at the cabin.

I agreed on all accounts and let Burke take control. From the supplies he took four cans of sliced beef with gravy, then nearly doubled our normal rations of rice and beans.

We had other dry goods stored, but rarely used them. Burke pulled them out and started mixing up, an old-fashioned ‘Great Depression’ pancake.

Burke’s impression of Harriet Homemaker even caught Simon’s attention. When Simon questioned what Burke was mixing, Burke told him a birthday cake… for Molly. As if it were the best news he heard in his three years of life, Simon, excited, took off to get Rod so they could get Molly ready for her party.

Though he hadn’t done so since we had been in the shelter, seeing Burke conjure up a meal wasn’t all that odd of a sight to me. Multitudes of backyard barbeques came crashing into my mind. Summer after summer, Sam and Burke would become master food manipulators. Firing up the grill. Sharing glaze recipes. Cooking tips on how long to make the perfect steak. Getting drunk. Laughing until the sun came up. They were great times, but ones I would never see again. They had become distant. Gracing my memory like an old favorite movie, or story, somehow they weren’t real anymore. Realism became the paneled basement in the home of my former next-door neighbor.

God, had I reached the point where shelter life had become normalcy? I prayed it would never be normal to me. With all my heart I wanted to get out of the basement, out of the city and go. Run. Never look back.

Soon.

Very soon.

I thought I caught Tanner saying my name. I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t respond. I was still locked in the flashback of the one day Burke and Sam built the mega barbeque pit and caught my backyard on fire. I probably would have basked in that memory for a while too, had it not been for my daughter’s voice. My ears perked.

“God!” she snapped. “It’s sick. Really sick.”

I looked up, how long had I been in my own world?

Tanner had sat across from me at the table. “Jo? You OK?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, then turned to see Matty storm into the room.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “Sick. Just sick. I can’t believe Simon, dresses, plays and sleeps with a sex toy.”

I nearly choked. “Matty.” I struggled her name out in my shocked laughter. “What?”

“Molly.” Matty climbed on the couch.

“She’s not a sex toy.” I explained.

Matty’s little face scoffed at me. “Yeah, right.”

My mouth hung open and I glanced to Tanner.

“I thought she didn’t speak?” Tanner queried.

“She doesn’t.” I shrugged. “Except to bitch.”

“And draw satanic pictures of Dan.” Tanner said.

“True.” I snickered and then looked up when Rod entered the room.

He wasn’t speaking to us. In fact, he emerged through the door and yelled back toward the hall. “Bring her in. Show everyone. She looks lovely.” Rod smiled at us. “Wait until you see. Right Matty?”

“Sick.” Matty shook her head.

The pitter-patter of Simon’s feet running down the short hall, announced his impending entrance into the living room. “Happy Birthday to Molly!” he called out joyfully, then came to an abrupt halt just as he crossed the threshold. Simon turned his little body around, and tugged on Molly’s arm. “Come on.” He beckoned the blowup doll that lay on the floor, her sideways body unable to fit through the door. Simon wrestled with her, perhaps thinking if he tugged hard enough she would fold and slip through.

Laughing, I stood up. “Here.” I made my way to him. “I’ll get her.”

“Jo,” Tanner called me. “You dropped your…”

Tanner didn’t finish the sentence.

Lifting Molly, I turned around. “I dropped my what?” Then I saw, he held my notebook, I must have knocked it off the table when I stood. Tanner’s eyes were glued to my page. “That’s an invasion of privacy.” I told him, carrying Molly to the couch. I had to say something; after all I wasn’t in the mood for another person to make a comment about how crazy I was for writing to Mona. After perching Molly correctly, I fixed her dress. “There, Simon. Now she’s ready.”

“She’s hungry.”

“She can wait.” As I turned, Tanner approached me.

“I’m sorry.” He handed the notebook to me. “I wasn’t being nosey. I noticed the date.”

“The date?” I asked. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Simon leap on the couch. “Don’t jump.” I told Simon.

“Yeah, the date,” Tanner said. “I just thought it was odd that you were behind in your journal.”

“I’m not behind in my journal. I write in it everyday.” I looked at the page, double-checking, thinking he was looking elsewhere. But he wasn’t. “No, it’s right.”

“Jo, it’s just that the bombs fell about twenty-some days ago. You have seventeen Days AB.”

“That’s right… Simon, quit jumping on the couch.”

“That’s right?” Tanner asked confused. “Today is seventeen Days AB?”

“Yes.” I chuckled. “Of course… Simon stop.”

Simon stopped, smiled, and then began to jump on the couch again.

“You look baffled.” I told Tanner.

Rod decided to clarify, “I think Tanner thinks AB means ‘After Bombs’.”

“Doesn’t it?” Tanner questioned.

“No,” I replied. “It means After Burke. I started keeping track of days after Burke arrived. But now I’m used to it. And I couldn’t very well change it now, could I?” I snickered. “Boy would Mona get confused.”

From the kitchen Burke called out, “Mona’s toast.”

“Stop that” I snapped at him, “You don’t know.”

“I know more than you,” Burke retorted.

“Oh, please.” I scoffed. “You didn’t even know the bombs were coming.”

“Like you did?” Burke retorted.

“Um, yeah.” Childishly, I replied.

Burke laughed. “No. Where were you?”

Simon, in the midst of his jumping, answered. “Aunt Jo was waiting for me to pee. She heard then.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Simon.” I smiled arrogantly. “Simon was peeing. I still heard. However…” Smug I walked toward Burke. “Where were you… when the news of the bombs were reported? Huh?”

Burke returned to cooking.

I saw Tanner glance at Burke then back to me. He shook his head a couple times with a lost look. “I’m confused,” Tanner said. “Where was he?”

* * *

Somehow, someway, it became a topic of interest, one that started at dinner but was quickly voted a conversation to be saved for later on in the evening. It was the very first time that anything brought all of us together in one room at the same time. Even Tammy, who chose not to eat with us, slipped into the living room and joined us. She didn’t say anything; she just sat there listening.

“Where was I when I heard the news of the bombs?” Dan reiterated the question we all would take turns answering. “Where was I?” He sighed out dramatically, like the actor he was. I was certain he was going to turn his answer into the monologue of the century, giving us all a standard of storytelling to uphold. “I had come off of the omelet bar. I swear I had made more omelets that day. Anyhow, I went to the back to get more eggs. The radio is always on in the kitchen and I heard. How ironic, don’t you think, I was holding something as fragile as eggs, when the news of the bombs was reported. I dropped them. Everyone was running everywhere. Chuck left the stove on, and a fire started. Ernie was putting that out. He yelled to me, ‘Dan, can you help?’ But I couldn’t move. Still standing in the freezer door, broken eggs all around me, I did the only thing that came to mind. I stepped back and closed the freezer door.”

Craig spoke up, “That was smart.”

I chuckled snidely. “That was cowardly. He could have helped Ernie.”

Disagreeing, Craig shook his head. “Why? The bombs were coming. Take cover, be a hero later.”

Rolling my eyes, refrained from saying, ‘he didn’t even do that’, I just began my brief story. “I didn’t work. I hadn’t since I worked with Rod at the security firm. So I was home. You would think, what a great place to be especially when I had everything pretty much prepared.” I shook my head. “To be ready. To hit that shelter. You have to know it’s coming. I wasn’t even watching TV. Mona called to tell me. And no…” I hurriedly looked at Burke. “She isn’t toast. I know. Her cell phone was breaking up. She was underground. That’s what I think.”

Burke shook his head. “You think maybe her phone was breaking up because, gee, I don’t know… a nuclear war broke out?”

“Nope.” I was firm. “She was underground.”

Craig was next, “I was driving. I wasn’t in the best mood, because I had to travel so far. I remember thinking, it was bad enough that I had to drive so far out of my way to play store detective, but did my radio have to be on the fritz as well. It was. Strangely enough, all I could pick up was the Christian station. Just when a religious song came on that I could bob my head to… they interrupted with the news. I swerved the car. To be honest, I panicked a little. But I took a second to think, made the first turn off the main road, and stopped at the first house that looked empty. I kept on thinking, ‘Jo says if my car is running when the bombs hit, it won’t start back up’. So I shut off my car, grabbed the battery, and broke into the house.” Craig chuckled, “Little did I know Bruce was there. I thought I was giving the old guy a heart attack. But once he realized what was going on, he got some things to the basement, and I ran back to the car for my Jo-pack. We buckled down. I have to stop and go check on Bruce. I’m surprised he didn’t want to join us.”

Burke snickered. “You probably drove the man insane with those hourly, boring fuckin’ radio announcements. He was glad to get rid of you.”

Craig gave Burke a look of being so offended.

Tanner lifted his hand slightly, “Can I ask? What’s a Jo-Pack?”

Craig answered, “Jo made this list of items we should have in our car in case we aren’t home when it happens. Survival stuff.”

“I had mine.” Nicky added. “Well, the little Jo-pack she gave me for Christmas.”

Tanner chuckled. “Jo, you gave survivor packs out for Christmas.”

I shrugged. “I thought they were neat.”

Nicky continued, ‘they were a gift of life… literally. Some water, some food, aspirins. I kept mine in my desk drawer. I was typing a letter to the Governor when Sandy, my supervisor, came flying out of her office. We were the only two in that day. She was yelling, ‘put the radio on!’. I did. Sandy was crying, but for the oddest reason, I was calm. Really calm. I knew we had to get below. Our office was in a house, so there was a basement. I remember gathering things—crackers, water, chips—and just throwing them down the stairs. All the while, I was arguing with Sandy to help me. Finally, I knew we had to get down there so I grabbed her, pulled her with me. We had just made it. The bombs hit. I flew to the corner where the workbench was, but Sandy she just… she just ran. Ran straight for the steps. I screamed her name, but she went above. It was like ‘The Wizard of Oz’, the entire house just lifted off. I can still see…” Nicky closed her eyes. “Everything flew over my head. Cars. People. Houses. Trees. I thought I was a goner and was waiting for the force of it to suck me right up. It didn’t.”

“How did you survive?” Tanner asked. “What did you do?”

Nicky smiled at me before answering. “I remember what Jo said about a safety time frame before the fallout and radiation would hit. So as fast as I could, I put all kinds stuff on and around that workbench, made it like an igloo. I grabbed the food, and water, and just crawled inside and prayed.”

“For how long?” Tanner questioned further. “How long until you came out?”

Nicky shook her head. “I don’t know. I lost track of time.”

Craig answered, “Twelve days. Twelve days exactly.”

Tanner whistled. “Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”

Matty huffed out slightly in irritation. “Great. Just great. Now my story will suck.”

Laughing I hugged Matty. “No, it won’t. Tell it.”

“No.” Matty shook her head. “Then you guys will tell me it’s good, just to be nice. I knew I should have told mine after Dan. I’ll wait until after Rod’s, his might be boring.”

Rod sounded like Joan Crawford when he gasped out an airy ‘well’. In all honesty, I knew he wasn’t offended at my daughter’s comment. It was just his way to compete with Dan for drama queen.

We paused before continuing, it was time to cut the cake. No ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung to Molly, which was fine because I knew the female persuasion of our shelter occupants weren’t too thrilled about having a blowup doll as a toy for a child. We passed out the ‘real’ forks with the cake, while Rod told his story.

“We were lucky. If that’s what you want to call it.” Rod said. “Unlike most of America, we got our warning before they announced it on the news,” he turned to Tanner in an explanatory mode. “I used to monitor alarms for a home and business security company.” He shrugged. “Something happened to the signal. I was there, staring at the screen when Barry Cole came racing in the back room, yelling, ‘Everyone, we have to go. We have to get out. We just got reports that we are under nuclear attack—or something like that. How he explained it is a blur, but I remember him saying over and over, ‘we have to go.’” Rod chuckled. “Go where? Where in the world were we gonna go? The building was small and constructed into a hillside. My back room had no windows and was a concrete room. No one would listen to me. They fled. Me, I turned on the radio and ran my ass around that building, grabbing what food I could and liquid. I figured how far away could I get before the bombs came?  Probably could have made it to Jo’s. But always remembered her saying, take cover first. I did. I scooted all my stuff under the back counter, blocked myself in with the lounge sofa and prayed. I thought I was going to be stuck under that counter… like Nicky was. But fortunately, mostly of the building stayed intact. Burke and Craig had to slightly unearth me, but I was fine. Mostly likely because I was stoned… but fine.” Rod glanced at Matty. “Is that boring enough for you, Princess?”

“Yes,” Matty answered. “But my story will sound boring after his…” She pointed to Tanner. “He was on a sub.”

I quickly turned to Tanner. “You were on a sub? How would Matty know?”

Tanner smiled gently at my daughter. “We talk.” He winked. “And yeah, I was on a sub. Actually I had just left the Faulkner Islands ten hours before it all started. So, rest assured, the United States government didn’t hide it, we didn’t know it was coming until the bombs were in the air. Things could have been worse that first day. We couldn’t stop the bombs already planted on our soil, but we managed to intercept about thirty percent of the SLBM and ICBM’s that sailed in. You guys probably didn’t even think of this, but Europe got nailed pretty bad. Probably because a lot of useful Mid Eastern nuclear weapons couldn’t make it to American soil, so they landed where they could. I’ll tell ya’…” He sighed out a heavy breath. “I never felt so helpless in all my life. Trapped. Useless.” His fork trailed across his cake. “I just listened with a knot in my stomach as they rattled off the first cities hit. I swear those first twelve cities are embedded in my mind.” Almost as if he weren’t even thinking, like a child reciting his times tables, Tanner rattled off, “Houston, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Miami, Tulsa…” He stopped. After a quick glance at me, he swallowed and shook his head. “It’s… it’s not important. We were given directives, we followed, and then we were ordered home. To what was left of home.”

“Wait.” Burke interrupted. “You’re a marine. Were there other marines on board?”

Tanner nodded.

“Then it was a security force.” Burke said. “You had nukes. Did you guys fire them?”

Reluctantly, Tanner answered, “Yes. Once the antagonists were discovered, we were ordered to turn our sub, take position and… fire. We released our entire bay. Thirty-two warheads. But that was mild compared to what France and Russia unleashed. Retaliation was major. Unfortunately, we were not wise to China’s involvement until it was too late.”

Davy spoke up in question, “Is there anything left? Any world left?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tanner nodded. “Davy, life prevails. It finds a way. We’re here, right? What’s that tell you?”

“But what about the rest of the world. Do you know?” Davy asked.

“I can take a pretty good educated guess from my military standpoint,” Tanner replied. “I believe the other countries are rising above the ashes too. Well…OK. Maybe not all. In the future there will be a history textbook that reads: There once was a place called the Mid East.”

A ‘low feel’ and hush took over the room. The crackling fire added an eerie effect as if we were all sitting around a campfire telling ghost tales.

“Sorry.” Tanner apologized then exhaled.”Now, I would love to hear Matty’s story. Please.”

“Oh, me too.” Rod said perky. “Trust me, me too. Tell it, Matty.”

“It’s dumb.” Matty shook her head.

“Well it can’t be dumber than the sub story, now can it?” Rod raised an eyebrow. “Tell it.”

“Fine.” Matty seemed nervous. Her fingers played with the cake crumbs as she spoke, lifting then mashing the crumbs together. “Math class,” she said. “I was on my fourth problem. Then the fire alarm went off. I thought it was cool, because I didn’t want to do math. Just as Ms. Busey was getting us lined up, Mr. Shep spoke over the speaker and said not to take us outside, but straight to the basement. OK, I’m not dumb. I hear my mom. So when he said basement I knew it was one of two things. Bombs or a tornado. Either way, we could be stuck down there and I knew it. So when we were all heading to the basement, I snuck from line to go to my locker. My survival pack was there. I thought for sure no one would notice.” Matty fluttered her lips. “Boy was I wrong. Mr. Shep saw me. All those kids and he saw me. He yelled and started chasing me.”

I couldn’t believe it. Matty was speaking about that day. How I had tried to get her to open up, but she wouldn’t. She stopped speaking, but I wanted to hear more. “What did you do?” I asked.

“Ran,” she answered. “I ran and screamed. I was almost at my locker when he got me. He said I had to go to the basement, but I told him I had to get something from my locker. He picked me up and started to carry me. Well… I fought. I kicked, screamed, wiggled. He kept saying, ‘Matty Collins, stop this.’ Finally, I bit him.”

A cough of surprise came from me without control. “You… bit Mr. Shep?” I questioned.

“Yep.” She nodded. “He dropped me, I ran, got to my locker and got my stuff. He chased me again, but it was too late. I had my pack. But that wasn’t all. Almost all the kids were downstairs and as we were going to the basement, guess what? Ms. Busey came running out. Mr. Shep said for her to stop. She was crying, ‘I got to get out. I got to get out.’ He told her one time to come back, then just said, ‘fuck her’ and took me downstairs.”

The second cough of shock came from me when my daughter swore as if she had been doing it her entire life. “Anything else?”

“No.” She shrugged. “That’s it. We got bombed.”

For some reason, I suspected my daughter had seen some sort of vile tragedy that spewed her into a silent shocked world after the bombs. That perhaps a vast array of death and destruction played before her youthful eyes. Something caused her to stop speaking, in my mind; it couldn’t just be the bombs. But it was. The bombs didn’t destroy her country; they destroyed her spirit as well. However, I started to see an inkling of that spirit creeping back and that made me happy. I pulled Matty closer to me, kissed her and whispered that I was proud and I liked her story best. Matty immediately turned her body into me to snuggle.

“More please.” Simon lifted his plate. “Good cake, Burke.” He smiled. “More?”

“Simon…” Burke seemed at a loss. “There is no more. I’m sorry buddy.”

“Wait.” Tanner called out. “Here, Simon. You want mine? I didn’t eat it.”

“Yes.” Simon, in a rush and holding Molly by the hair, leaped over Davy’s legs. He fumbled his doll, but managed to grab that plate. “Thanks, Tanner Niles.”

“You’re welcome Simon Reed.”

Someone huffed. Barely heard, laced with disgust, but they huffed. I had my guess on who had done so. At first I believed I was the only one who caught it, until I saw that Tanner, lifted his eyes, at the same time as me and to the same person.

Tammy.

To me it was an obvious attempt by Tanner to draw attention to her.

“Tammy,” he said anomalously cheerful. “How about you? Where were you?”

Tammy responded with a shake of her head while she balanced her plate on her knees, and poked her fork around her uneaten cake.

“Come on, Tammy, share.” I beckoned in the same happy way.

“Why?” Tammy asked with an edge. “Didn’t your ego get boosted enough, Jo? I think we all heard enough stories about how you gave the survival tips and packs that helped everyone survive.”

“Where is this coming from?” I questioned with sincerity. “What are you…”

“Please.” Tammy scoffed. “Spare us.”

“Am I missing something?” I asked. “I know you’re sick…”

“You don’t know.” She snapped.

“Fine.” I raised a surrendering hand. “Fine. But I wish you wouldn’t talk like that to me in front of my kids.”

Tammy chuckled.

I locked into a stare with her.

Davy broke the tension immediately. “I’m going to bed. Simon, buddy? Ready?”

“Ok!” Simon perked up. “Can you read to me, Davy? Please, can we read the Roger dinosaur book. Maybe Aunt Jo can read to us both, can you Aunt Jo.”

Still staring at Tammy, I nodded and spoke almost dazed. “Yes, Simon. I will. Give me a kiss, I’ll be right in.”

Hyper as usual, Simon grabbed hold of Molly and rushed to me. In his hurriedness Molly swung out and hit into Tammy’s plate, knocking it to the floor.

An uncalled for, gurgling, loud, “Watch out you idiot!” screamed from Tammy.

Burke blasted back, “Hey! Knock it off!”

“No!” Tammy charged. “He knocked over my cake!”

Poor Simon didn’t know how to react, I know he didn’t pay one bit of attention to me telling him it was ‘OK’, finger in his mouth, he peered at Tammy, “I’m sorry, Tammy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late now, isn’t it!” she yelled at Simon.

I could have defended my nephew, but Burke took care of it prior to my even getting a chance.

“What the fuck, Tammy.” Burke scolded. “He’s a kid, it’s not his fault.”

Hostile, Tammy argued back, “You’re right. It isn’t his fault. It’s yours!” She said to Burke, and then looked at me. “And hers! Because you let him play with this stupid goddamn … toy!” In her bitter rage, and by no accident, Tammy slammed down her arm into the doll. The fork she held seared through the plastic flesh.

Pop!

As if he witnessed a death, Simon shrieked painfully and long. I sprang to my feet, and lunged for Tammy. Quickly Rod intercepted, leaping forward, blocking me with his body. My blood boiled, I could feel my neck hot, and my face flush. So enraged, I didn’t want to hear Rod’s reasoning. He rattled calmingly something about it not being the place. I didn’t care. Frantically I attempted to get by Rod, pushing my body into his while my hands reached out trying to grab a piece of her. Was I screaming? Saying anything? I don’t know.

Rod was a ping-pong ball. His stance was jolted back and forth as I strived for Tammy, she strived for me, and Burke tried to get Rod out of the way to let us go at it.

Then someone grabbed my shoulders. It had to have been Davy or Tanner. I couldn’t see. But as they pulled on me to bring me back, I felt it slam down into my extended right hand.

A revolver.

Though instinctively my fingers wrapped around the handle, in confusion my eyes shifted fast from the gun, to Rod, to Burke.

“Shoot her.” Burke ordered. “Fuckin’ shoot her right now, Jo!”

The words squealed in his shock, as Rod cried out. “What! No!” Without hesitation, his hand whipped down and snatched the revolver from me. He spun hard to Burke, then unlike I had ever seen him before, Rod took charge of the situation. Storming his voice in an authoritarian manner. “What are you? Fuckin nuts! Shoot her? There are children in this room. Get your goddamn priorities straight!” He pivoted to me. “And you, calm down! You hear? There are ways to handle this.” Before I could respond, Rod turned his body again, and swung out a point to Tammy who was leaving. “Stop!” he ordered. “Don’t you dare leave this room. Where are you going!”

Calm, Tammy turned around. “I’m going back to my room.”

“You are going nowhere.” Rod walked to her. “What you did to this child…” he extended a hand to Simon. “Was incomprehensible, uncalled for, heartless, not…”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” Rod took another step to her. “We are all down here together. We’re all in this together. You cannot take this mean, hatred attitude toward people, especially a child. Where do you see your justification?”

“Because I lost!” Tammy yelled. “I lost and no one else did!”

“Bullshit!” Rod screamed. “Bull! We all lost!”

“Not like me!”

In argumentative disbelief, Rod chuckled. “You think you can measure loss? You really think that your loss is greater than anyone else’s in this room? Let me tell you something, Tammy. We all lost. We all hurt.”

“None of you lost a child!” She bellowed.

“A child? No.” Rod shook his head. “Two.” He pointed to Tanner. “This man lost two children, and a third is still unaccounted for. You wanna measure pain. Measure it next to his. Is he striking out? Is he deliberately hurting people? No. You are. Why?”

“Because of her.” Tammy looked at me. “Jo.”

“Jo?” Rod asked with a laugh. “Jo makes you hurt people?”

“No, Jo makes me hate.” Tammy raged. “So perfect. She’s got it all. Don’t any of you see it? Happy, smiling, hugging her children. She still has her life! Everyone praises her. Jo did this. Jo did that. She told me. She gave me. If it wasn’t for Jo… God! I’m sick of it! And I’m sick of hearing how prepared Jo was. Let me tell you something, Jo…” Tammy spoke bitter. “You weren’t prepared, and you still aren’t. You can’t prepare for everything. Mark my words.” On her final syllable of angry hostility, Tammy stormed away, leaving us speechless and stunned.

24. Death and Revival

My mood pummeled. My entire emotional being felt as if it spiraled into the bile of depression. I didn’t want to lift my head. On the brink of outrage, on the verge of weeping, I just wanted to be left alone with my thoughts and my notebook. I didn’t want to yell, nor did I want to cry. A single word could have offset the internal seesaw I balanced. Walk away. Don’t look at me. Don’t speak. Leave me alone. Just… leave me alone.

Where in the world did I put that red sweater?

Never in my life did I imagine I could feel so much turmoil toward one individual. What kind of place had Tammy put me? What sort of position had she placed me in? Neither answer was one I wanted to accept. Neither answer was one I liked.

At that moment in time I hated her… I pitied her.

I spoke to Nicky to thank her for repairing Molly. Burke hadn’t tossed out the box, and she found a plastic patch inside. A blow up doll came with a repair patch. I shuddered to think what reasons the manufacturers justified for placing a repair patch in the box to a blow up doll.

My whispering, ‘thank you, Simon will be happy’, was an invitation to Burke I did not extend. He was waiting—obviously—to approach me. Burke had no patience, and he was taking whatever chance afforded.

He handled it simply. Sitting down next to me before the fire, Burke exhaled. I expected him to have an explanatory conversation with me. While I brooded in my fucked-up friendship world, every other adult assessed and deliberated on the Tammy occurrences. I wasn’t dumb as to what they discussed, nor was I deaf. I knew what Burke was going to say. However, I didn’t expect with his outward breathing, he would expire all tact from his body.

Blunt.

“She goes,” Burke said. “I want her out. I want her out soon. When the rads drop, and temps rise, Tammy goes. It’s been decided. Majority rules.”

I didn’t even get a vote? To be honest…I didn’t want one.

It’s out of my hands. Those were the words I wrote in the notebook. Breaking away from my daily notation to Mona, I wrote my feelings. I needed to write to her—no, I needed to talk to her. Why couldn’t she be in the shelter with us? Why did she have to go to Tulsa? Of all days.

The shelter had finally hit the level of peacefulness. Burke doing something out of character, lounged on the couch reading a book. I don’t recall ever seeing Burke read a book in all the years I knew him. But he proclaimed he wasn’t tired, and even if he was, he wasn’t going to bed until I did. What? Did he think I was going somewhere? Leaving? I hadn’t left my fireplace seat on the floor in two hours. I had written over three pages to Mona. I could hear her when she saw those pages. She’d look, chuckle, comment in a sarcastic way, “well, someone was having a bad night when they wrote this.’ I was.

“Hey,” Tanner whispered as he sat down next to me. “Mind if I sit here?”

I shook my head. What was I gonna say? No? He was already seated.

“Are you writing to Mona?” he asked.

“Are you gonna make a snide comment?”

“Jo,” he said softly. “Don’t bite my head off. I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re right.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“The notebook?”

“Tammy.”

I chuckled once. “What’s there to talk about?”

“About how you feel. What's going through your mind.”

“If I said…” I turned and faced Tanner. “If I said I despised her, what would you say back to me?”

Tanner shrugged. “Good?”

“Good. You would say good?”

“Yeah, then I’d follow up with it’s about time.”

Shaking my head, I turned from him.

“Jo. I’m not saying you should have despised her your entire life. I am saying, that things were said and done that warranted you losing all feeling for her. You need to despise her now, if not for her actions and words, but for a clear conscious in two days.”

“When conditions change and we throw her away.”

“We don’t throw her away.” Tanner reasoned. “She’s breaking, Jo. She’s gonna snap and soon. I don’t want to think of what she could be capable of doing.”

“She lost an arm, Tanner. How much of a threat is she.”

“She only needs one hand to use a weapon.”

Muffled, and from behind his book, Burke tossed out his comments, “Thank you! I couldn’t have said it better. Listen to Tanner he’s reasonable.”

I spun to look at Burke. “Can you mind your own business?”

Burke lowered the book. “No.”

Grumbling, I returned to facing the fire.

Tanner’s finger touched upon my notebook. “What would Mona say, Jo?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Tanner said. “Didn’t you tell me you two were psychically linked? Didn’t you say you write to her because you know you’re sending her some sort of message? That she feels, right now, what you write?”

Burke laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

My eyes fluttered and I spewed out, “I hate when he does that. You know what the problem is? He’s pretending to read. He’s not because there are no pictures in a Tom Clancy novel.”

“Jo?” Tanner waited for an answer.

“Yes.” I nodded. “We are linked. And I know she feels something from me.”

“Then feel something from her. She’s a friend. What would she say?” Tanner asked. “Link to her, Jo.”

He did it again. Burke had to comment, “Maybe they are psychically linked, and the reason Jo can’t tell you what Mona would say, is because there’s no Mona right now to link to.”

“Mind you own goddamn business!” I yelled.

“No!” Burke retorted. “Talk somewhere else. Wait. Ha! You can’t.”

Murmuring ‘asshole’, I faced Tanner. “She would say Burke is right. She would say get her out. But I don’t think Mona would wait. She would want her gone now.”

“Let’s listen to Mona!” Burke cheered.

“Shut… up.” I snapped.

“Jo,” Tanner snickered. “He’s trying to help you. In his own way, he’s taking your mind off of things.”

“I guess.”

“Tell me about Mona.” Tanner requested. “Let’s talk about her.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because, whether you believe it or not, you’re dwelling on tonight. You can’t dwell, Jo. Let’s talk about Mona.”

“Let’s not.” Burke said.

I sneered at Burke, and then smiled at Tanner. “You know what? Let’s. Mona… Mona and I are a lot alike. Spiritually, if that makes sense. Personality wise too. Weird things would happen between us. We’d have the same dreams. If I was having a bad day, you could bet she was having a bad day. If Mona were sad, I would cry and not know why. That’s why I am so sure she is alive. If anyone would feel that she was dead, I would. I know I would. And she’ll come back. Wait. You wait and see. And oh, boy is she gonna like you.”

“What?” Tanner asked. “What do you mean?”

“She’s gonna take a liking to you.” I winked. “She’ll think you’re hot.”

Tanner blushed. I never expected it. Running his hand over his unshaven face, he lowered his head and blushed.

“Yeah,” Burke said. “Jo’s right. Only Mona would think of getting laid in a post nuclear war.”

Offended, my mouth dropped open. “Burke.” I huffed in disgust. “You know… maybe you would think about getting laid. Mona would think about just being intimate and close. Affection. Basic human need.”

“OK. You’re right.” Burke flipped a page in his book. “I will eventually think about getting laid. Won’t everybody. I mean…” Swinging his legs over the couch, Burke sat up. “When things calm down. Won’t everybody.”

“No.” I answered quickly.

“Jo, sex is not gonna be a thing of the past.” Burke argued. “You’re gonna tell me that you won’t think about getting laid?”

I cringed. “Burke.”

“Sorry.” He lifted his hand. “Making love. Being affectionate. That won’t cross your mind?”

Apprehensively, I answered. “Probably. Eventually. I don’t know.”

“Basic human instinct and need.” Burke nodded. “And I bet it’s already crossed Tanner’s mind, right Tanner?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Tanner gave an embarrassed smile to me. “Eventually. And how did we get on this subject?”

Burke pointed my way.

“Me?” I questioned. “I did…”

Davy screamed. A long horrid scream from my son was no less than a warning alarm that sounded off. We all sprang to our feet, and just as we did so, I heard sound of struggling thumps and bangs.

Matty’s cries of, “Mommy! Mommy!” carried to us.

Burke was first to bolt down the hall, with Tanner and myself right behind. No sooner did Burke reach the back bedroom door, a battling Davy and Tammy nearly knocked him over.

“What the fuck!” Burked reached out grabbing on to both of them.

“Mommy!” Matty cried.

Turning to run in the bedroom, I watched Davy pull from Burke’s hold and emotionally drop to his knees. His face was red; his head flung back and bellowed out in anguish, “Simon!”

Into that room I flew. My hand smacked against the battery light on the wall to brighten the dark room.

“Mommy!” Matty screamed.

My eyes went to the bed where Davy and Simon slept, and my heart hit my stomach with a catatonic, paralyzing effect. On the bed lay Simon with a pillow over him. I felt it roll from my gut to my throat, a moan of agony in the revelation of what had occurred.

“Oh my God.” Tanner said rushed, and flew by me to the bed. “Someone get my bag!” he ordered out loudly. “Get my bag now!” he removed the pillow from Simon.

Simon’s eyes. That instant in time, that vision of my innocent nephew was photographed forever in my mind. Simon’s eyes were wide open and his mouth agape.

Tanner’s hand moved to Simon’s throat. “OK, little man, you’re still warm.” He whispered and turned to Matty. “Matty, go in the other room. Go get Nicky, find a way to warm blankets. Hurry.”

Matty scurried in Tanner’s dictate.

Tanner lifted Simon from the bed, and if it were possible for my soul to diminish any further it happened when I watched Simon’s lifeless arms just fall over Tanner’s hands.

I heard Craig ache out, “Oh God”, right before he abruptly moved by me with and handed Tanner the bag.

Tanner spoke as rushed as he opened that bag and reached in, “Craig, go to my radiation suit. Pull the oxygen. Find a way to rig it. Find it. I need the oxygen.”

“Got it.” Craig ran out.

“Tanner,” I whimpered. “Help him.”

The stethoscope was first out of his bag, and then Tanner pulled out a vile and syringe “He’s not going anywhere if I can help it.” He plunged the needle into the syringe, drew in some liquid then clenched the syringe between his teeth.

“Mom?” Davy whispered in such heartache.

I could only shake my head and pull Davy closer as we watched.

Tanner’s left hand felt about Simon’s ribcage. His spread his fingers in a brace of Simon chest, raised his right hand with a tightly closed fist and struck down hard with a ‘thump’ to Simon. His tiny body jolted. Quickly, Tanner pulled the syringe from his mouth as his fingers probed, and then with no hesitation, he plunged the needle into what could only be Simon’s heart.

I held Davy tighter.

Head close to Simon’s chest, Tanner listened. After a single shake of his head, he titled back Simon’s head and breathed into his little mouth.

A pause.

Another breath.

A listen.

Tanner began. His hands appeared as if they covered Simon’s entire torso. It was unlike any cardio-pulmonary resuscitation I had ever seen in a movie, or training film. He used more of his fingers than his hand as he compressed upon Simon, counting aloud a he did. “One and two and three and four and five and…”

A breath into Simon.

Again.

It was an unbelievable pain that filled my body. I wanted to scream. No questions as to what happened raced through my mind. No wondering why Tammy did what she did. All I thought about, all my prayers went for Simon to respond.

“Simon.” I heard Davy whisper.

My eyes closed. “Please. Please, Simon.”

I didn’t need to see, nor hear him. I felt Burke’s presence come into that room, and then I felt his arms wrap around Davy and me. I sunk into his hold, but not even Burke’s strong arms could take it all away at that moment. “Burke.” I wept out.

“He’ll do it.” Burke spoke soft and confident. “Come on Tanner, you can do this. Bring him, back.”

In our own way, with love, beckoning and prayer, we cheered Simon and Tanner on. Hoping our whispers of desperation would be heard by the lost soul of Simon Reed. Heard, and perhaps be a guiding light for Simon to follow back to us.

Never in my life had I seen an individual as focused as Tanner Niles was at that moment. He listened through the stethoscope, said nothing, lifted the syringe and plunged another injection into Simon. His resuscitation cycles began again. Stringent he delivered them. Determination glazed his eyes and face.

“Three and two and three and four and five…” Tanner breathed into Simon. “Four and two and three and four and five…” Another breath.

Stop.

Tanner picked up his stethoscope. He placed the end to Simon’s body.

We all froze. Why wasn’t Tanner going into resuscitation measures again? He flung off the stethoscope, lowered his head, and whispered out a powerful. “Yes, thank you.” He turned his head and looked up with a smile. “He’s back. Where’s the oxygen?”

I didn’t realize how many of us were in that room until I heard the unison, sounds of relief and glee. I rushed down to the floor, and dropped to my knees. “Simon?”

Tanner smiled at me. “He’s back, Jo.” After running his hand over Simon’s hair, Tanner gave a slight shake to Simon’s head. “Hey, hey little man. Come on, Simon, can you hear me?”

Davy’s impatience brought him to the floor with us. “Simon. Simon?” Davy called him.

Simon’s eyelids fluttered, and then he opened his eyes.

Davy’s shriek of joy overpowered my own, and he all but moved me from the way. My hand reached out grabbing on to Simon’s leg in gratefulness.

“Davy,” Simon moaned out.

“I’m right here buddy. I’m not going anywhere.” Davy heaved out a breath and turned to Tanner. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Tanner nodded once. “Why don’t you put him in bed?”

I backed out of the way as my son lifted Simon. Simon didn’t want to be laid down, his arms wrapped around Davy tight like a monkey. He shook his head.

“Come on,” Davy said. “You have to lay down. Tanner Niles wants to look at you some more.”

Tanner Niles. I faced him, and saw a man no less a hero in my eyes. “Tanner,” I whispered out. “Oh, God, I can’t thank…”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, thanks. OK? Simon is thank you enough.”

Wanting to say, ‘bullshit’, I refrained and gave Tanner no choice but to accept my embrace of appreciation. Tanner accepted it. No sooner did his arms even tense up around me, I started to cry.

“Hey.” He chuckled, pulled back some and put his hands firm to my cheeks. “It’s fine. He’s gonna be… just fine. OK?”

I nodded.

“But I’ll tell ya…” Tanner exhaled a ‘whew’, and pulled me back into the embrace.

“Got the oxygen.” Craig approached. “It’s the best I could do. Will it work.”

Pulling from the hold, Tanner paused in taking the oxygen. “Holy shit. This is impressive.”

Craig titled his head to the left. “It’s the best I could do.”

Tanner checked out the makeshift oxygen mask that consisted of a cup attached to the tube, and secured with duct tape. Another piece of tape, held a strap to the end. “This will be great. We only need it for a hour.” He walked to the bed.

Craig pointed. “The extra tape will hold the strap to his face.” He scratched his head. “I think.”

Tanner laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Bet me Davy won’t mind holding the oxygen to Simon.”

“Hell, no.” Davy answered. “Tell me what to do.”

As I moved back even further, Tanner’s words to Davy were lost in my abundance of thankfulness. My heart pounded in my ears making it nearly impossible to hear anything but my own thoughts.

I was elated. In fact we were all elated. Nonetheless, even in our overwhelmed emotional state, we had not forgotten what had caused us to almost lose Simon.

Or rather who—Tammy.

* * *

“I say no mercy.” Burke laid the revolver on the kitchenette table.

I looked at the gun. “Kill her? Just kill her?”

“Yep.” Burke, standing, folded his arms.

“No.” Craig argued. “She’s dead anyway. Don’t do this. Send out her. Kick her out. No food. No coat. Nothing. Send her away.”

“I agree with Burke,” Dan spoke up. “I say we shoot her. She deserves it. Look what she did. Yeah, Simon is alive now. But let’s not let that be the only thing we see. She killed him. She intended to have him dead and she suffocated him. You heard Davy.”

Nicky shook her head. “But two wrongs don’t make a right. I stand with Craig. Just kick her out.”

“No,” Burke said strong. “And then what? Let her roam about out there. Burn us down. Break our windows.”

“She’s not strong enough,” Craig said. “She’ll die within an hour. If she tries then you shoot her. Tanner, what do you think?”

“I think…” Tanner replied. “I think it should be Jo’s call. She decides.”

I looked at the revolver, then at the faces in the room. “Where is she?”

Rod was the watchdog in the garage where they detained Tammy. It was bitter cold in there, lit by a candle, and an attempt to be warmed by a small kerosene heater was futile. Tammy sat in a chair center of the room, and she just looked at us when we stepped in. The walk to the garage wasn’t long, and even if it was, I knew that my mind wasn’t going to be made up until I spoke to Tammy. As I explained to the others, Tammy’s fate, if she died instantly, or was given the slightest chance to save herself, hinged on what she said. Tammy was ill. There were a lot of factors that could play into her actions. It was possible that she didn’t even recall doing it.

I was the judge, jury, and possible executioner. It was time to hold my trial. About eight feet I stopped and stood. “Tammy. Just… just tell me why. Why did you suffocate Simon?”

Tammy’s raised her eyes. She was silent for a few seconds, and then she finally answered. No emotions. Just factual. “I was getting kicked out anyhow, right? Why not.”

A split second was all it took and I held out my hand to Burke. “Give me the gun.” I felt it lay in my palm and I gripped it. Taking a step back, I shifted the chamber, raised the revolver, and extended my arm. At first I felt the ease of my actions. The revolver felt right. The moment felt right. And then… I looked at Tammy. When I saw her, a flash of a memory pelted me over. I saw us on a swing set, laughing and playing at eight years old. Tammy in a prom gown. The two of us at graduation. My wedding day. That trip to the beach we had taken for just us girls. Tammy pregnant. Matty’s christening.

My hand shook, and I swallowed predominantly. “I’m sorry. I’m… sorry.” Stepping back, I lowered my arm, turned and gave the gun to Burke. “Take her outside. Just take her out.”

I had to leave. I couldn’t watch. Hurriedly I left the garage and closed the door behind me. I folded my arms tight to my body in a self-delivered embrace of support. It hurt, my stomach burned and I nearly doubled over from the pain of all that was happening. Tammy screamed, and the garage door opened. Tightly I closed my eyes as if I could block it all out. But I couldn’t. It didn’t take long. Before I knew it, it was over. The garage door closed.

Tammy was gone.

* * *

The banging, screaming, crying, and apologizing, it seemed like it lasted an eternity, when I knew it was maybe fifteen minutes. Tammy carried on outside, yelling near the living room window. Even though the window was blocked, dirt was piled against them, I could still hear her. “Jo. Jo. Let me back in, Jo. Please. I’m sorry, Jo. I am so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. Jo, Please? Jo!”

I found my solitude in Rod’s writing spot. A space between the end of the sofa and the wall, blocked by a small shelf, the privacy of the area was limited to one’s imagination.

No more. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Knees bent up, I covered my ears and rocked back and forth until it was over with.

Then I stayed there.

I couldn’t face a soul and no one bothered me either. It took all that I had to convince myself that I hadn’t broken. Eventually I would stand and face it all again, leave that little corner and put on a strong front. And a front was all it was. I wasn’t strong. Not in the least. Any strength that I had, courage and conviction was gone.

The light bulb of reality went off in my head and I hated what it illuminated—my life.

It was done. Changed forever. There was no more Sam, no more family, nothing. The little speck of hope in my mind that kept me going, told me perhaps we would emerge and find somewhere that wasn’t hit, wasn’t destroyed by war, that speck was extinguished. We would leave the shelter and find nothing but a crumbled world filled with dirt and dust. A place filled with helpless people, sick, suffering, and better off dead. If things fell apart in a bomb shelter filled with people who cared about each other, I didn’t want to think what was happening outside of our basement walls.

My poor children. Growing up I had dreams. I would be something, raise a family, be a rock star, and win an academy award, anything I wanted. Life was a silver platter, and all I had to do was try. Reach for what I wanted and try. Those were my dreams. What dreams would my children have? Find food? Peace? Pray that they would never get an illness that needed dire medical attention? To drink enough water to the point where they weren’t thirsty anymore?

We had been cheated out of a full life and the fruitfulness this earth once had to offer. How horrible. When the finger was on the proverbial button, didn’t they think? Didn’t they see the faces of the children? My God what was going through their minds? Those bastards. I wanted to damn them for taking it all away, but they had already damned us.

I plunged into a pool of self-pity for at least three hours. Writing in my notebook, pausing to think, to cry. I stayed there in the corner until the silence of the basement spoke undeniably that everyone was asleep. Then knees aching from sitting so long, I grabbed my candle and stood. Burke was asleep on the sofa, Rod on the loveseat, and Dan was on the floor.

I made it to the back bedroom and was surprised to see the door slightly ajar. A hint of light crept out. Guessing the light was more of a security blanket for the kids, I pushed the door open and walked in. Davy was on the one bed with Simon. His arm draped over his little buddy as they both slept. But taking me aback was the sight of Tanner. He sat in the space between the two beds, knees bent slightly, holding a book close to the light for reading, as he held my sleeping daughter. I looked at him for a second in curiosity, then muttered out his name in question. “Tanner?”

“Oh, hey, Jo. I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered. “I just wanted to be in here with Simon.”

“No, I don’t mind. How…” I pointed to Matty. “How did you end up with her?”

Tanner chuckled. “I don’t know. I offered. She accepted.”

“Here let me take her.” I walked over and crouched down for Matty.

“I can…”

“No.” I lifted Matty. “I have her. Thanks.” Grunting some, I turned and laid my daughter on the bed. “Night sweetie,” I whispered, pulled the blankets over Matty, and then kissed her. After a grateful stare of her, I looked down to Tanner. “Need a floor partner?”

“Love one.” He patted the spot next to him.

The aching of my legs and body, caused me to grunt as I lowered to the floor.

“Tired?” Tanner asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“A little.” He shrugged.

“You’ll hurt your eyes reading in the dark,” I said.

“Yeah, well, not much of a choice, huh?”

“No.” I shook my head with a smile. “What are you reading?”

Fingers holding his spot, Tanner closed the cover and showed me.

Admittedly, I was a little shocked. “The Bible?”

“Yeah.” He opened it again.

“Is this something you do often?”

Tanner laughed. “Jo, you act like this is a shock to see me reading The Bible.”

“Well, it is. I don’t know. You just don’t strike me as a bible thumper.”

“I’m not. I pick it up when I need to find the right words,” Tanner said. “Tonight needed words. Whether anyone asks me for them, or I tell them—doesn’t matter. What matters is I found them. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does. So… do you know where to find the right words, or do you just flip pages hoping to get lucky.”

Tanner looked at me for a second and smiled. “Both.”

I chuckled. “It’s honest. Now…” I sighed out. “Be honest again. Tell me about Simon.”

“He’ll be fine. Kids go into cardiac arrest because of respiratory failure. You get their heart going again, they are fine. Simon actually is doing great.”

“Thank you. And thank you for taking time for Matty.”

“Really?” Tanner asked surprised. “I thought you were angry.”

Quirkily I looked at him. “Why did you think that?”

“You stared at me funny when you saw us. Like you were mad.”

“Mad? No.” I shook my head. “Maybe… envious?”

“Envious?”

“Don’t laugh. But envious that Matty is small enough to curl up on someone’s lap and go to sleep.”

“Anyone is.” Tanner set the Bible to the side, and shifted his body to face me. “If you’d like.” He motioned a hand over his lap.

“No, I couldn’t.” I shook my head.

“You couldn’t… because?” Tanner fished for an explanation.

“I couldn’t because… I couldn’t… are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive. Grab that blanket.” Tanner pointed to the one that covered Matty on the floor.

I reached for the blanket, and scooted closer to Tanner. It felt very awkward at first, tuning sideways and resting my head upon his leg. At best I thought it would last about a minute, then the strange feeling would be too much to handle and I would get back up. But I didn’t. Immediately after Tanner fixed the covers over my shoulder, it was as if I slipped into a comfort zone. Legs curled, nestled perfect in the fold of Tanner’s lap, I felt warm and safe, and not quite so lost.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yeah. Very.” I saw him pick up The Bible. “Are you sure you don’t mind. I won’t stay like this long.”

“Sleep, Jo. Don’t worry about it. Besides, your body makes a great arm rest.”

I thought he was joking until I felt his arm prop over mine. I smiled and started to close my eyes, but stopped. “Tanner? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever think about the future? Do you think about what the world will be like?”

“Sure I do,” Tanner answered. “Quite a bit.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“That’s a wide open question.”

“Ok, what do you think will happen to us all?” I asked. “Do you think things are gonna keep falling apart.”

“Honestly?”

“No less.”

“Then being no less than honest, I think…” Tanner reached down and brushed the hair from my face, as he spoke softly, “I think those of us who have survived will have a different outlook on life. And as time moves on, as we rebuild, we will make sure this world is a better place. Much better than it ever was. That’s what I think. No. That’s what I believe. What about you, Jo?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Just have faith,” Tanner said.

Faith.

“Tanner? You said tonight needed words. Did you… did you by chance find any words in the Bible.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can you read them to me?” I asked. “Something. I need something right now to grab onto.”

Tanner drew silent. “I don’t know if this will help. It’s just… one of my favorites.” He turned a page. “Here.” He began to read, “Whenever trouble comes your way, let it be an opportunity for joy. When your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow. For when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything.”  He paused. “In other words, Jo. That which doesn’t break us or kill us…”

I finished his sentence, “Will make us stronger.”

“Exactly,” Tanner said. “Stronger. Strong enough to fight. To go on. To face tomorrow.”

“To make it better.”

“You got it,” Tanner whispered. “And believe me when I say, what a better tomorrow it will be.”

25. Sunshine

The wheels of the garage door rolled upon the tracks with a thunderous roar when Burke lifted it with a vengeance. He wasn’t just inching the sun in, he was blasting us with it. We knew the day before that it wouldn’t be long. Levels had started to fall, and the temperature began to rise.

Nineteen days AB, we were freed from our basement prison. It was a miracle. Even though the information and statistics Tanner had given me indicated how it transpired in other cities, I myself doubted it would occur so quickly.

I was wrong. As if in the snap of a finger, the sky went from dark to light. It was over. When Burke raised that garage door, we found ourselves staring at a bright, white wall. The blinding effect and pain didn’t last long. I wasn’t running or hiding to protect myself, I welcomed the sun and waited with anticipation for my eyes to adjust.

Burke and Craig wore what I called power sunglasses. Thick and black goggles they had stolen from the military. Therefore it made sense that they would see everything first.

“Ah, warmth,” Burke commented it. “Feel it.”

“Ah, bodies.” Craig said, “Smell them.”

“Huh?” Burke quickly looked at Craig.

“Bodies?” I questioned and stepped closer. “As in plural.”

“Bodies.” Craig pointed.

It was difficult to see, but the shape of them came in. Five bodies scattered about the backyard. One of which, clearly was Tammy’s. I turned. “How did they all get here?”

“Fuckin Tanner,” Burke replied. “They probably followed him.

“No,” Craig disagreed. “We were burning wood. We were a smoke signal of life.”

Burke snapped a finger. “Good answer. All right, let’s roll these down the hill. We aren’t gonna be around here much longer anyhow.”

Roll them down the hill? I questioned to myself. Like they were trash. Opting to go back into the shelter where more upbeat and positive things were taking place, I left Craig and Burke to ‘roll’ the bodies on their own.

It was obvious the feel of the shelter had changed. Hope arrived and despair lifted with the nuclear cloud.

The short hall from the garage brought me directly into a sunlight filled kitchen. Dan and Davy had the door open, while they packed things up. Dan spewed forth figures to Davy who wrote them down.

“Inventory again?” I asked.

Davy smiled, “Yeah, we wanna know exactly what we have for when we go to the cabin.”

“Any idea, Jo, what’s stocked at the cabin?” Dan questioned.

“Same stuff.” I shrugged. “More canned goods. The amount, I’m not sure. Why?”

“Just trying to get a grip.” Dan answered. “We were thinking, get everything we can ready to go on the truck, except one five gallon water, and food for lunch and dinner. That should be enough until we leave.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Mom? How are we gonna fit everything and us in the truck?” Davy asked.

“Well, Craig is going out to find another vehicle. We may have to jump start it; but fingers crossed, we’ll get one. If not, we make two trips.” I told him.

From the living room, with struggling words, Rod spoke up “Moving day is going to be a bitch.” He tied a sleeping bag. “Look at all these blankets.” He motioned his hand out. “Are we gonna need all these.”

“I don’t know. Burke said pack them,” I said, “And the clothes too.”

“Yes, we know about the clothes.” Rod nodded. “Nicky is excited about the creek, she said she can’t wait to wash clothes. Go figure.”

“Speaking of Nicky. Are her and Matty…” I pointed backwards.

Rod nodded. “Assessing our agricultural future.”

“I’ll be back.” Smiling, I turned and walked to the hall. The bedroom door was open and the window was unblocked. Matty and Nicky looked perplexed as they stood above the long line of baby food jars. “What’s wrong?”

“Some survived.” Nicky answered. “Some didn’t.”

“It’s still early, though,” I winked. “It should be June. We can plant more seeds after we remove what dirt we need to at the cabin.”

“How much, Mommy?” Matty asked.

“Books say six to eight inches. I don’t know, Sweetie. It will be hard to tell.”

“No.” Nicky shook her head. “If Craig’s invention works, it won’t be. I can’t wait until he unveils it. Oh!” She said brightly. “Matty, let’s tell him to try it.”

Cringing, I held up a hand. “Give him and Burke a few minutes. They’re… rolling bodies.”

Nicky mouthed to word, ‘bodies’ to me in question.

“Yep,” I said. “So work on packing those jars a little longer.” As I turned, I saw Craig’s invention on the floor—or rather, a sheet that covered it. “I’m excited to see what this is too. I hope it works.” Stepping to leave, Simon blasted in the room. “Whoa. Whoa.” I stopped him. “Slow down.”

“I want to help with jars, Aunt Jo. Tanner Niles said I could.”

“He did, did he? Where is Tanner Niles?”

“In my room.” Simon answered.

“Thanks.” I started to leave.

“Packing.” Simon added.

It made me pause. Everyone was packing, but why did I think Tanner’s was different. I left and went to the other bedroom.

I saw him placing things into a duffle bag that appeared already stuffed. Knocking once as a warning, I stepped in.

“Hey, Jo.” Tanner smiled. “Look.” He twitched his head toward the window. “The sun.”

“I see.” I walked in further. “Tanner, are you… are you leaving?”

He chuckled.

“I’m serious. I thought you were coming with us to the cabin.”

“I am.” He zipped up his bag. “But not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to get back down to the rescue station. I need to see if there is still a country. If I am still on active duty. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can find out.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“Well… if there isn’t anything, I turn around and come right back, head to the cabin tomorrow with you guys.”

“And if there is?”

“Then I have to do things right. I have to stay at the station. Finish what I started. Leave properly without causing a problem.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Tanner lifted his bag. “It was my life, Jo.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just afraid you won’t show.”

“Jo,” He said my name as if I were being ridiculous. “I’ll be there. Now, come on walk me out.” Tanner started to leave.

“You’re going now?”

“The sooner the better. Didn’t Burke tell you? He knew I was leaving right away.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. You should have told me.”

Tanner stopped. “I thought I did. I mean, last night I said that if the levels were normal today I was heading to the station.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you meant as soon as the garage door opened.”

“Then when? When was I supposed to go?” Tanner asked.

Slowly, I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“And I’m flattered,” Tanner said. “Thank you for caring.”

“I’ll… I’ll walk you out.”

“Good.” Laying his hand on my back as a guide, we both looked at each other when we heard the excited cheers coming from the garage. Curious, we hurried that way.

Everyone applauded Craig. And as if he were accepting an award, he nodded to each person, with a look of pride upon his face.

“Look, Jo!” Nicky said excited. “Craig’s invention works.”

Geiger counter in one hand, Craig lifted a metal rod. “Now we can test, food, water, dirt, all for radiation it works.”

Tanner asked, “You made that?”

“Put it together myself,” Craig boasted. “What do you think?”

“I think that is awesome. Good job.” Tanner shook his head. “Do you want me to pick one up at the station, that way we have a back up for the one you made?”

Craig looked down at his invention. “You guys have these?”

“Yes.” Tanner answered.

“Great. Thanks. You could have told me earlier.” Craig turned and stormed out, murmuring, ‘asshole’.

Tanner lifted his hands in defeat. “I didn’t know he was building one.”

Simon tugged on Tanner’s pant leg. “Are you leaving, Tanner Niles?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving little man.” Tanner bent down and lifted Simon. “Do me a favor. You rest. OK? Listen to Davy.” After a kiss to Simon’s forehead, Tanner set him down, and turned to Matty. He crouched before her. “We’ll finish that story when I get to the cabin.”

“Don’t be too long,” she said.

“I won’t.” Standing, Tanner faced Davy. He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Take care of your mom, OK?”

Davy gave a closed mouth smile and a nod.

Extending a handshake, Tanner faced Burke. “You’ve been great. Keep that arm splinted. Got that.”

Burke grumbled. “Right.” He shook Tanner’s hand. “Thank you for everything. Even though…”

Sounds we hadn’t heard in forever caught our attention. A motor and a squeal of breaks.

Burke’s head cocked. “Was that a car?”

“Sounds like a jeep.” Tanner said. “Let’s check it…”

“Guys!” Craig, out of breath, stood outside the garage door. “You’re not gonna believe this. You are not gonna believe who it is.”

Everyone rushed out.

I whispered a hopeful, ‘Mona’ and followed the crew. Turning the bend to the driveway, I saw it wasn’t Mona. But the presence of him walking down the driveway overwhelmed me nonetheless. My knees buckled, my heart raced and I plowed through everyone to get to him. Tammy’s son Mick had arrived.

Mick was thinner, but otherwise, surprisingly he looked good. He looked very good. He wore camouflage gear and a military cap. I rushed to him and didn’t give the teenage boy a chance to respond, I grabbed him and hugged him.

“Oh, my God. You’re alive. You’re alive.”

“I’m strangling,” Mick grunted.

“Give the boy air.” Burke pulled me back.

My hand shot to my mouth, and I tried to catch my breath. “We thought you were dead.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“We couldn’t find you.”

“I would have been here sooner, but they…” He pointed behind him. “Got hold of me.”

Two soldiers approached. Immediately upon spotting Tanner, they stopped, saluted and acknowledged him as ‘Captain.’

After getting an ‘at ease’ nod from Tanner, the one soldier spoke, “We nabbed him right away. Luckily too. We were on our way to the compound shelter for the cloud, when we spotted him walking.”

“It was two weeks,” Mick said. “Jo, you always said wait two weeks. I waited what I thought was two weeks. I was in the subway tunnel. Me and six others. But they only grabbed me.” Mick shrugged. “The military tortured me.” He pulled off his hat. “Shaved my head. I wasn’t even sick or losing my hair, they shaved my head. And…” He rolled up his sleeve. “They tattooed me one night.”

“You loved it.” The one soldier joked. “You know it.”

Mick smiled. “Yeah, I did.” He looked at me. “Hey, Jo. Where’s my mom?”

Silence. I should have expected that question.

“Jo?” Mick looked about the faces that welcomed him. “My mom’s not here is she?”

I slowly shook my head. “I’m sorry Mick.”

Mick puckered his lips and nodded. “Do you know how? Was she killed in the blast? Did she ever make it here?”

“Yes.” I answered apprehensively. “She made it. But she got sick. She got really sick. See, she looked and looked for you.”

“Why?” Mick asked with desperation. “Why did she look for me? Didn’t we say two weeks? Didn’t she think I listened? Would she have lived if she didn’t look for me?”

Quickly, Tanner interjected. “No, son. You’re mom had burns and cuts that were affected by the blast. She wouldn’t have lived if she stayed indoors. So she looked for you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

Davy spoke up, “And just in time too. Dude, we’re leaving for the cabin tomorrow.”

“Speaking of leaving.” Tanner looked at his watch then to the soldiers. “Gentlemen. Is there a military left? Have you heard anything?”

The other soldier answered, “Sir, we don’t believe there’s much of one. We were told to go to the hub, which is the rescue station. They don’t think everyone is gonna show. Barricades are down. Things are dead out here. There is talk of restructuring, but when that will happen…” he lifted his shoulders. “Who knows.”

“But we’re to meet at the hub?” Tanner asked and received a nod. “OK, then let’s go. Can I get a lift?”

“Yes, sir.” The first soldier answered. “Jeep’s this way.”

Tanner exhaled and faced our group. “This is where I go. Thank you for having me.” He edged from the circle. “I’ll be seeing you guys in a short while.” Adjusting his duffle bag, he lifted his hand in a wave and backed up with the soldiers.

What? Wait? My mind cried out. He was just leaving? Like that? Arms folded tight to my body, I couldn’t help but watch. My eyes glued to Tanner. I wanted to call to him, tell him to hold on, I wanted to say goodbye. But I said nothing.

Just about at the jeep, Tanner handed his bag to the one soldier and walked back down to us. His eyes locked on me, as he reached out for my arm. “Jo, can I pull you away for a second?”

“Um… sure,” I replied, lost for anything else to say.

Holding my arm, Tanner led me up the driveway. Far enough away from a good earshot of the group, he stopped and turned me to face him.

“Jo,” he spoke in a near whisper. “I’m sorry for pulling you away. But, I wanted to say goodbye to you alone. Don’t ask me why. But I wanted it to be private.”

I looked over my shoulder to everyone who watched. “Tanner? There’s eight people over there.”

He chuckled. “It’s still more private then saying it in front of them.” His hands gripped my shoulders, and he appeared apprehensive, maybe even nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just want to thank you for everything. You know, just… thank you. I won’t say how, or what, but know you did a lot for me. More than you realize.”

“Tanner?” I peered at him with question.

Shaking his head, Tanner smiled. “Don’t ask. And also know, there’s nothing in this world that is going to stop me from joining you guys at that cabin. I have directions. I’ll find it. So, it’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s just a matter of ‘when’. OK?”

“Ok.”

Tanner exhaled. “Ok. So, with that being said…” Another nervous exhale, and Tanner slid his hands upward. Cupping my face gently between the palms of his hands, Tanner leaned forward and kissed me.

I couldn’t determine whether or not it was the surprise of the kiss, or the kiss itself that sent a jolt through me. It was different. The moment the softness of his lips met mine; Tanner paused, keeping us in a connection for a longer moment.

I was still startled when he pulled away.

“Take care of yourself, Jo.” He flashed a peaceful smile, stepped back and walked to the jeep.

As usual, my response was only a nod. A single nod I believe, not even much. Frozen in my stance, I watched Tanner get into the jeep. He waved as the jeep jerked and looked back as they drove away. I stayed there until he was no longer seen. But that was all I did. I bid no farewell, proclaimed no thanks, or even wished him well. I said nothing. I did nothing. I failed at performing the simple task of a wave.

Nothing.

I just stood there.

* * *

The night was difficult for many reasons. We went from arctic temperatures to summer degrees in a matter of hours. The basement warmed up quickly, the open windows—the few that there were—did little to cool the air. Going outside wasn’t an option; it rained too hard.

The enthusiasm to go to the cabin was enormous. Everyone wanted to go. Just go. But the next day was ‘D’ day and for that we would wait.

Craig, didn’t just jump start one vehicle, he obtained two. His reasoning made perfect sense. At several hours before sundown, Craig and Dan took one of the cars, packed up a load of stuff and left. They headed to the cabin first. None of us had even thought to do that, but since Rod made us all neurotic with his fears that the cabin was gone, destroyed, or taken over by squatters, we encouraged Craig and Dan’s initial venture.

Radio contact from them would be useless. We were pretty certain Burke’s cabin was out of radio range, so we hinged on the age-old saying, ‘no news is good news’. We set a ‘sigh of relief’ time for eleven PM; if they hadn’t returned, that was our sign that the cabin was fine, intact, and awaiting our arrival. With plenty of enough gas, we ruled out that possibility. Plus, Mick informed us that he saw no one on the roads, it was barren, and that helped in making us confident that Craig or Dan weren’t shot.

Falling asleep would have been tough if it weren’t for Simon. The child exhausted us. Not from chasing him, but stopping him. Simon felt compelled to tell Mick—every chance he got—what Tammy had done.

“Your mom tried to kill me,” Simon would say. “Mick. Mick. Did you hear me, Mick? Your mom tried to kill me. Tanner had to punch me in my chest. See?” then Simon would lift his shirt to show the huge bruise on his chest.

How many times did Simon do that? How many times would one of us interject? Mick never asked for further explanation. Perhaps he understood, or maybe he didn’t believe Simon. Whatever the case, down the road, the subject would come up again. When the freshness wore off. When Mick was done mourning.

It stopped raining, just about the time I decided I would try to rest. Every once and a while a hint of foul stench would blow through the window with a cooling breeze. It wasn’t overbearing, nor did it warrant closing the windows. The night had cleared. Somehow I wish my mind had done the same.

I felt in the fog, preoccupied, something was definitely bothering me. I was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. I thought I knew, but passed it off as an insane notion. Finally, I chalked it all up to nervousness and to leaving. We weren’t just leaving; we were setting forth as the new settlers of a Babylon world. Starting anew, conquering familiar territory as if an uncharted terrain. There was so much unknown, up in the air, and left to fate. But I was certain of one thing. The next morning light would be our start. And no matter how difficult, no matter how much of a struggle, we would take the road to building the stronger, brighter future we all sought and needed in our lives.

26. Leaving

Burke complained, loudly too. Barreling his body around the shelter, banging things around, I didn’t need to see him to know what he did, I heard him. Every footstep he took, item he moved, word he spoke.

“You know…” Burke griped in the distance. “For a bunch of people who couldn’t wait to get going, you’re moving like molasses.”

In my bedroom, a room that I shared with my family and Burke, I stood alone. My eyes transfixed on my packed bag as my mind wandered into thought.

Burke continued, “We got the truck nearly done. Let’s go. I only want to start it once.”

Before dawn had even arrived, I spoke to everyone, Davy, Matty, Rod, everyone but Burke. Perhaps because I knew he was the hardest.

“Jo.” He called into the bedroom.

His presence and voice caused me to jump. “Hey, Burke.” I zipped up my bag.

“Almost ready?”

Exhaling, I turned around. “No.”

“No?” he asked.

“No. There’s something I need to do. We need to talk.” I walked over and closed the door.

* * *

Somehow I knew Burke wouldn’t be all that keen on the task I needed to undertake. He called me insane, ridiculous, refused to let me do it, and even asked if I were on my period. He failed to see my reasoning. My best attempts of explaining were futile, because truth be known, I myself wasn’t too clear on the reasoning. How do you explain that it just ‘feels’ right?

Reluctantly, due to my persistence, Burke said, ‘fine’.

The actions I needed to take didn’t become evident until Matty asked me if I thought everything was going to be fine at the cabin. I told her it would be and for her to just have faith.

Have faith.

That was what Tanner told me not three nights earlier. It was in repeating his simple words that I hit my revelation. Tanner Niles.

Since the moment I had met him, never did I have the final word; it always went unresolved. The night he brought the antibiotics for Sam, I allowed him to leave without telling him the cause of Sam’s death. Tanner needed the truth that night, and I let him walk away.

When he said his goodbye to me before getting in the jeep, Tanner needed a response from me… I let him drive away.

There were things I needed to say, measures I debated on taking, and I couldn’t with a clear conscious leave for the cabin without a resolution with Tanner. Even though I knew I would see him again someday, I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t go.

Burke gave me a time limit of one hour. He ordered me back and said he would leave without me. At first I didn’t take him serious. Then after seeing the look in his eyes, I decided not to take the chance and I hightailed it to the rescue station.

I took the long, backdoor route, which I quickly learned was a mistake. Common sense should have told me from reading the statistics, that there was no way the station would be as flooded as it was before the cloud. It wasn’t. In fact I was thrown into disarray because the entire setup was different.

No more masses of people creating an impassible river of bodies. The few that entered into the station were scattered about. Hundreds instead of thousands. An older man with a megaphone stood near the front of the camp giving out simple instructions. The numbered tents in which I had become familiar were gone. There weren’t nearly as many tents. They were further away from the back entrance, and there seemed to be more military mobile buildings than before.

I was all ready on limited time. How in the world was I going to find Tanner?

“If you are sick…” the man on the megaphone called out. “…With an illness other than radiation, proceed to line two. All radiation sickness cases check in at line one.”

I looked about, left to right. Where to start. Where to begin.

“We are taking a census at building C. If you are looking for someone go there.”

Answer given. Building ‘C’.

“If you are sick with an illness other than radiation, proceed to line two.”

‘What was this guy? A human recording?’ I asked myself.

“All radiation cases check in at line one. We are taking a census at building ‘C’.”

‘Building ‘C’, yes he said that before.’ I started to look for that building as I walked.

“If you are looking for someone go there.”

‘Yes, you said that. But, hello! Where in the hell is building ‘C’?’ Irritated, I moved closer to the megaphone man. If nothing else, I was going to tell him to let people know where the building was.

“If you are sick with an illness other than radiation, proceed to line two.”

“Fuck it,” I said aloud.

“All radiation…”

The megaphone squealed as I snatched it from his hand.

“Hey!” he yelled at me.

“One second.” I lifted a finger to him, and checked out the megaphone. I smacked away his hand when he tried to get it. Pressing the button, I brought the megaphone close to my mouth. “Tanner Niles. Tanner Niles where are you? Tanner, if you…”

“Give me that.” He took the megaphone back. “Goddamn it. I lost my place.” He shook his head.

“You were on the ‘all radiation cases’ part,” I told him.

“Thanks.”

“Jo?” I heard Tanner’s voice, somewhere.

The megaphone chirped, and the man called out, “She’s right here.”

I smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“Jo.”

I turned and saw Tanner moving closer. I stepped away from the check-in area so he could see me, and I headed to him.

“Jo?” Tanner looked concerned. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to have left. Is everything OK?”

“No. I mean, yes. But no. Nothing’s wrong.” I exhaled. “I have to talk to you. Can you spare one minute?”

“Absolutely,” Taking hold of my arm, Tanner led me a little further away, to where there were less people. “What’s going on?”

“We didn’t say goodbye.”

“Yes, we did.”

“No, you did. I didn’t.”

Tanner chuckled, “You came all the way down here just to say goodbye?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I need to ask you something. But first, have you found out how long you’ll be staying here?”

“Jo, I told you I…”

I held my hand up to halt him. “Just answer my question.”

“There aren’t many here. But there are only two doctors. They say about four days, no more than a week. Then we wait for restructuring.”

“Good.” I smiled. “That’s not long at all.”

He looked at me oddly. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“No. Tanner, you have to let me ramble this out. OK?”

“Go on.”

“OK.” I took a breath. “When you were leaving, you kissed me. I believe it told me something about how you felt, and I said nothing. I need you to tell me if I am thinking wrong about the kiss. I don’t think I am. But you have to tell me. If I’m right, then I know my decision is the correct one.”

“Jo, you’ve lost me.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll see you at the cabin. But if I am right about the kiss… I want to wait for you. Stay behind; I’ll even help out here. But I go to the cabin when you do. One day, two, a week. I don’t care. I stay with you.”

“Oh, my God.” Tanner wisped out.

“Shit. I’m wrong.” I cringed.

“No, that’s not it,” he said quickly, “Jo.” Almost in pain Tanner spoke, “I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know.”

“So… why?”

“Tanner, I have my kids. I have Burke, my friends. You once told me you had no one. You didn’t find us; fate brought you to us. I believe that. You have been absolutely incredible, and I don’t, not even for a second, ever want you to have no one. You have a place with me if you want it. Understand? Now, am I right or wrong about the kiss?”

“Jo,” he whispered with passion. “More than anything I want to tell you that you were wrong.”

Again, I stated the question. “Right or wrong?”

Tanner grumbled in frustration. “You’re putting me in a really bad position. Burke will kill me if you stay, and I know you’ll stay if I tell you you’re right.”

Smug, I looked at him. “Then lie to me.”

Tanner grunted. “I can’t. You’re right. I’m a dead man. And I have to get back to work.” After giving me a quick kiss to my cheek, Tanner turned and walked away.

* * *

The cabin was beautiful. At least I remembered it being that way, I was certain it still was, but would have to wait to see for myself. I stayed behind with Tanner. Everyone but Burke understood my decision to wait. It saddened me to see my children go, but I knew they were in good hands, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was with them at the cabin.

Matty put it the best when she told Burke, “Tanner is part of us now. It isn’t right to let one of us stay behind alone. It’s not like he’s Dan.”

My daughter’s confidence in my choice, gave me confidence.

I did err when I volunteered to help out at the station. Without hesitation, I was recruited. By nightfall I was tired, and my throat was sore. I was deemed the new megaphone man. Twelve hours straight I called out the same thing, over and over. I swore I would hear those words in my sleep.

I was relieved of duty shortly before midnight. And told I earned a four-hour break—gee, thanks. There was a bright spot; they showed me where to clean up. After that, I was given fresh clothes, a hot meal, and the number of my assigned rest trailer.

Food in hand, reaching for the door to the trailer, I heard Tanner call out.

“Jo, wait up.”

I turned and looked. Tanner jotted my way holding his own plate.

“Thought I’d eat with you,” he said.

I smiled and opened the door. “You aren’t going to believe this.” I led the way inside. “I just… I just took a shower.”

Tanner laughed. “You’ll have that.”

“No, I haven’t. I took a shower. My hair squeaks.”

“So does your voice.”

“Ha, ha, ha.”  I sat down. “You know I wondered why you were always so clean when I saw you.”

“You were clean.”

“I was sanitized.” I paused to look at my plate. “What is this I’m eating?”

Tanner shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. But I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You’re sure it’s fine?” I sniffed it. “Smells beefy.”

“Then it’s fine. If it smells sour, then I’d worry. Just eat.” Tanner began to delve into his own meal. “So, how are you handling things without the kids?”

“I miss them.” My fork played with my food. “I’m imagining them at the cabin. Matty probably found a tree to sit by and draw. Bet me Davy just ran. Ran from one end of the property to the next. Simon, he probably wanted to run with Davy, but Burke promised me he wouldn’t let Simon run. He said he’d put him on a leash if he had to. Of course… we wouldn’t have Simon running around if it wasn’t for you.”

“Trust me when I tell you, Jo, I wanted him to live as much as you did. He isn’t just your Simon, in a sense, he’s a bit of my son Simon, as well.” He paused peacefully. “So…” he exhaled. “Tell me about this cabin we’re going to.”

“You know, when we were in the shelter, I drew all kinds of pictures about it.”

“You did?” Tanner asked surprised. “Where are they?”

“Back at the shelter.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to give me all the details verbally then.”

“I guess I am.” I thought about what I would tell him, building a pictorial in my mind before I expelled it to him. “Tanner?”

“Yeah?” he looked up from his food.

“I want you to know, I really believe now, that there’s a better tomorrow. I really believe that.”

“I do too, Jo.” Tanner smiled at me. “I do too.”

27. One Last Look

My ‘I’ll be there notebook’. The wear and tear of its cover showed how much I opened that notebook in just over a month’s time. There were spills on it, some of the pages were bent, and the cover contained doodles.

It was my last entry.

Twenty-six AB. Dear Mona: Today I leave for the cabin. The rescue station is closed, and now we play a waiting game to see if the government rises from the ashes. I’m beginning to think at this point in time, all that is gone, will remain gone. You’re in my prayers, always. Jo.

It was my last entry for more than just one reason. That final entry to Mona was written on the final page of that notebook. How ironic. I didn’t plan it that way, it just happened.

I was back in my house. My house. In my dining room, seated at the dusty table, I stared at my notebook. I knew what I had to, and I knew what that notebook stood for. It had gotten me through so much. Many of my heartaches graced the pages of that book. But those heartaches, like my house, were things I had to put behind me. The future was what I had to face.

I made the decision to leave the notebook behind. Taking it was an option, but would I ever read it? Would I want to read it? Perhaps leaving it would be a symbol, or maybe someone down the road will find it, and learn. I knew it had to stay. There really was no reason to bring it. The entire intention of that notebook was to be a resolution of my friends. Closure to their fate. But did I do that? Had I felt that? Yes, I completed my notebook, but I hadn’t completed the list. The ‘I’ll be there list’ was not finished.

I reviewed the list of names. Every single one of them had either been circled, or scratched out. A date or comment was next it. Every name but Mona’s. Hers stood alone, untouched.

It was time to go, but I still stared at that list. I was moving on, moving forward, and I was putting to rest my way of life before the bombs. I would never be able to freely do so without putting to rest everything. It was time to do that task.

Pen in hand, heart breaking, in defeat I did something I never thought I’d do—I placed a single thin line through Mona’s name. I forced my own closure, and then I closed the cover to the notebook.

“Jo?” Tanner called out softly. “Ready?”

Slowly I stood from the chair, and pushed it into the table. “Yeah.” I took one last look at the notebook. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

* * *

The road to Burke’s cabin was always hard to find, but that day we found it with ease. Gone were the visions of crumbled buildings, scattered cars and decaying bodies. I was awakened with a renewed hope when I saw the trees that lined the gravel road to Burke’s property.

A summertime spring blossomed with the buds that sprouted on the branches of the trees. I could smell them; the scents of nature pelted me. The air was warm, but fresh. I wanted to stand in the moving jeep and raise my arms with an enthused scream. But I kept my excitement in check. I wanted to see my kids, the cabin; I wanted to see it all before I shouted to the heavens a humongous ‘thank you!’

My eyes stayed ahead, and I ignored Tanner’s continuous questioning of whether or not we took the wrong road.

“It’s only a mile or so. Only a mile.” I repeated.

Then, I saw it. No, I heard. The sound of laughter, Burke disciplining for them to ‘leave the water pump alone’. I beckoned Tanner to hurry, and he obliged without argument.

“Mommy!” a sopping wet Matty screamed my name when we stopped the jeep.

Davy delivered one more pump of water over Simon’s head, and then he spotted us as well. “Mom! Burke! Mom’s here!”

Simon finally joined my children in racing to greet me. My arms extended to them, wet or not, I needed to give them a hug. And I did.

The squeak of the screen porch door, caught my attention, and I looked up to see Burke stepping out.

“I’ll be damned.” Burked walked off the porch. “Look at you. GI Jo.” He reached out and embraced me, and extended a hand to Tanner as he did. “You guys look great.”

“I’ve been showering,” I said.

Burke sniffed loudly. “Yeah, you smell it.”

Laughing, I gave a playful smack to Burke’s chest. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

“Jo, it’s been a blast.” Burke explained. “You should have seen them when we got here. The first thing they did, no, the first thing we all did was enjoy the well water. Then when Craig tested the stream and said it was clean, man we all went swimming. Before we even unpacked.”

Davy interjected, “We got the seeds planted. We don’t know if they’ll take, not yet. But we did.”

Matty added, “And we only had to remove ten inches of dirt.”

I stepped back to take a look at all it. The cabin was still as I remembered it. The old fashion water pump perched right before it. Burke added a glider on the porch; I didn’t recall that. But the property was wide, huge, tree lined and evidently starting to grow all over again.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“You just missed them.” Burke answered. “Rod, Craig, Nicky and Dan, decided to walk to Redman. You know, see what’s left of the town. They’ll be back. Shortly.”

I nodded and turned to Tanner. He looked stunned, his eyes shifted about as if he were studying something he had never seen before. “Tanner? What do you think?”

“I think…” he breathed out. “I think if you ever needed a confirmation that life goes on, life prevails. This is it.” He smiled. “This is it.”

28. Completion

The small farming town of Redman laid six miles north of Burke’s cabin. Its pre-bomb population of 2,841 had dwindled down to 305. But it was still 305 people alive and well. They accredited their survival to picking up broken radio signals about the impending nuclear cloud. They stockpiled, they bunked down, they survived.

They were reorganizing nicely, and planned to do their best to grow some food for a late harvest. Burke entered into a barter arrangement with them around Thirty days AB.

News traveled fast, and word that Tanner was a doctor hit Redman, and then Redman hit us. Not even three days after our arrival, Tanner was fixing injuries. He delivered the first post-nuclear war baby on day forty-one AB. A healthy, happy, baby girl. We were all ecstatic.

Dan moved to Redman almost immediately. It made sense. After all, why would he want to stay in a three-bedroom cabin with us, when he had his pick of the litter in Redman? Rod followed suit about a week later. But Rod’s never far away. He works everyday at our cabin, plus vowed to rekindle the newspaper, even if he had to create his own news to make it entertaining.

For us, Davy had become the official record keeper. What day things happened and so forth. Adjustment was not a problem for the kids.

Nicky and Craig had the biggest adjustment. I thought for a while they were not going to continue to be a couple until Tanner delivered the news to them on Day fifty-eight AB, that they were going to have a baby. Nicky was pregnant. Davy immediately became grossed out in the revelation that they had sex while we were all in the same cabin.

Nicky’s pregnancy made Tanner think. He brought up the subject to me, that perhaps one day he and I would have a child. It never dawned on me to do so, to move on in such a capacity. But I told him eventually we would—one step at a time.

It seemed, for the longest duration, civilization had started all over again. Gone with the old, in with the new. The daily checks to the mobile Army radio bred nothing.

Until day seventy-seven AB. Nearly three months after the bombs, the radio crackled, and a man identified as General Edmunds gave orders to Tanner. I thought it was some sort of militia joke, but Tanner knew Edmunds well.

I was frightened; I thought Tanner was leaving me. But he wasn’t. Four remaining leaders of the United States military had initiated seventeen major ‘hubs’. Pittsburgh was one of them. The hubs would be main stations and distribution centers. A place where the lone survivor, or family could go and find out where the nearest functioning community was located. There was no promise that the reorganization would last, but they were giving it a shot. Basically, the new government wasn’t setting out to establish camps, but rather aid and assist those civilizations already in existence.

I was in luck. We were in luck. Tanner informed them of Redman, and the government informed Tanner assistance would be given. Tanner had to go to Pittsburgh first.

“Jo, no.” Tanner shook his head as he got into the jeep. “I won’t be gone long. I have to check in, give statistics and I’ll be right back.”

“Please?”

“No.” he darted a quick kiss to me and turned the ignition on the jeep. “Stay here.”

“I want to go.”

“The last time I took you in this jeep, you bitched the entire time that my driving made you sick.”

I mustered up the most pitiful face I could. “Tanner?” I spoke softy. “Please.”

“Why? Tell me why this is so important to you?”

It was going to sound stupid and I knew it. I debated for a moment, tapping my hands on his door. “OK, this general guy told you that they plan to bulldoze the entire area around the old rescue station, right?”

“Yes. So.”

“So that’s my old house, Tanner. Let me go back and see it one more time. Let me just check to see if there are pictures I want to grab. Things I may have left there. I also think I’m ready to get my notebook back. I want it back. Please?”

Tanner huffed out. “Fine. Get in.”

“Yes.” I did a little jump of excitement and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. This is why I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head.

I slid in the jeep.

“You better tell Burke you’re leaving.”

“I already did.”

“Christ. I’m such a sucker.” He shifted the gear into reverse and backed up. We were on our way.

* * *

“What’s going on?” I asked, as we pulled closer to my street. A military truck blocked the entrance.

“We’ll find out.” Tanner drove the jeep to the truck and stopped. “Gentlemen.” He called to the soldiers. “What’s going on?”

After a salute, the one soldier walked to the jeep. “Morning, Sir. We’re just blocking the street as a precaution. Trucks have been transporting people in from other cities, and we don’t want to take a chance they’ll settle here. This street is slated for clearing day after tomorrow.”

I nudged Tanner. “See, just in time.”

Tanner ignored me. “Can she go through? She used to live here, and wants to see her house while I head to the station. I’ll vouch for her.”

The soldier shrugged. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, and started to get out.

Tanner grabbed my hand and stopped me. “I won’t be long. Neither should you. If you run into problems, scream. They’ll hear you.”

“Got it.”

“And get what you need. See what you have to, and come back to these guys. OK?”

“But… can’t you just come down and get me when you’re done?”

“Jo.” Tanner whispered. “Come on, I don’t want to take a chance. What if I get delayed? I don’t want you by yourself. Please?”

“All right. I’ll be fast.” I stepped from the jeep. “Tanner? Thank you.”

Tanner smiled and winked. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the soldiers as he drove away. Then I began my journey.

“Ma’am.” The soldier called to me. “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m a few houses down.” I pointed. “Just keep an ear out for me.” I gave a wave and continued walking. My house wasn’t far. It amazed me that I wasn’t upset when I saw my street again. I knew I had really put it behind me when the site of the remaining destruction barely fazed me. My home, Mark’s home, they were my past.

Without a doubt, just to do it, I was going to stop and see Mark’s basement. After all we had lived there and it was our saving grace. In fact, it was going to be my first stop, until I saw my front door was open.

I had put a lot of closure into my last day at my home, so I distinctively remembered closing the front door. It didn’t dawn on me that anyone was in my house; it never even crossed my mind until I stepped on my porch.

Through my open front door I could see into my dining room, and I spotted what looked to be a man, wearing a green military jacket and bandana, seated at the table. My heart jumped to my throat, and I debated on running and getting one of the soldiers. But as I looked again, I saw him slowly flipping pages. Pages to the notebook I left on the table. Enraged by the invasion of my privacy, I didn’t pause to think of the consequences, and I grabbed a board that lay on my porch.

Holding it like a bat, I stepped quietly into my house. The floorboards creaked, but the man didn’t budge. He was smaller, and that eased any worry I had. Another step, and I stopped again when I caught glimpse of the left side of his face. His ear was gone, his cheek heavily scarred from burns.

He turned another page and chuckled.

How dare him?

“Get…” I graveled my voice and raised the board. “Out of my house!” I charged his way, readied to swing, and then he jolted around to face me.

Inches from connection, I froze. The board toppled from my hand, fell to the ground and I trembled out of control.

Mona stood up. “You got the story a little wrong,” she said. “I was eight miles outside of Tulsa.”

I was silent. I couldn’t speak, move, I don’t even think I took a breath.

“I was able to get below. But still…” She pointed to her face. “Jo? Jo, say something.”

“Oh, my God.” I whispered, slowly my hand reached out, almost as if I was afraid to touch her.

“I’m sorry it took so long. But I’m here now. Thank you.” Mona grabbed my hand. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”

The moment she touched me was the moment I knew it was real. Emotionally, and long, I gasped out the breath that I held, and then I grabbed on to Mona. The tears at that moment were unimaginable; the embrace kept us both from losing our balance. We held on, and we cried, right there in my dining room for the longest of time. No words. Just holding on to a piece of life we both thought was gone.

My plan was to go back to my home to say a final goodbye. To go full circle, retrieve my notebook, and really add a sense of closure to it all. I did. Mona returned. My list was finally complete. There truly was nothing left to do… but go on.

Copyright

Copyright 2003 by Jacqueline Druga.

Published by GreatoneAS

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Content

Jacqueline Druga
DUST

Introduction

1. The First Day

2. Below

3. Keeping Wits

4. The List

5. A Signal

6. The Black Blanket

7. One by One

8. Awaiting Burke

9. House Rules

10. Foolishness by Nature

11. Realism

12. Tent Three

13. All Good Things

14. Where Now?

15. Accounted For

16. Decisions

17. Blocked

18. Over Coffee

19. Concert Tickets

20. Impending Fate

21. Digging In

22. Delusion of Strength

23. Where Were You?

24. Death and Revival

25. Sunshine

26. Leaving

27. One Last Look

28. Completion

Copyright