by C A Bird
The door slid closed. Will turned and without a word walked toward his apartment.
March 12
Chris and Lori sniffed, each of them pressing a handkerchief to her eyes as Ron and Jean said their “I do’s” followed by Pete and Sandi’s. Mark found it amusing. Why, he wondered, do women cry at weddings?
Everyone dressed in their street clothes for the double ceremony taking place in the auditorium. After all, this was a formal occasion.
Mark was very happy for the two couples, but the wedding caused him to reflect on the unexpected turn in his life, the knowledge that he and Chris would never be together. He tried to imagine what had gone wrong, but realized truthfully, that their union was highly unlikely from the beginning. As much as he loved Chris, she thought of him as a family member, and their relationship had always been more like that of siblings rather than lovers. It was obvious that Chris and Aaron cared a lot for each other and Mark tried to be happy for them too.
As he watched the couples binding their lives and futures together, he became aware of a slight trembling. No one else seemed to notice it, though, and he wasn’t too concerned, intending to check on it later.
After the wedding, Mark promised Lori he’d be along shortly and ascended to the Crow’s nest to obtain information about the tremor. Micah, being something of a party animal, was attending the wedding, so James was pulling a shift upstairs. He sat in a chair with his feet propped on a counter and the chair tilted so far back, Mark thought he would surely fall over. He was reading one of the many technical manuals.
“Hey James, any info on the tremor I felt about fifteen minutes ago?” Mark asked as he entered the room.
“No, I didn’t even feel it. We really don’t have any external readouts for seismic activity. Apparently it was fairly unknown in this corner of New Mexico, and Mr. Hargraves, or the designers, didn’t think it was necessary to have readouts or printouts.”
“Yeah, but we monitored for hydrogen blasts. Can’t we use the same sensors and data?” Mark walked over to the computer, where the screen depicted the main menu, wanting to begin his search for the data, but he knew Lori expected him at the wedding reception.
James nodded, “That’s a distinct possibility. I’ll ask Darryl about it. How’d the wedding go?”
“It was great, all the women were blubbering. I’m heading back there now so I’ll see you later.”
Before he reached the door the intercom came on and Clay asked to speak to his father. “He isn’t here, Clay. Do you need me to get him?” Mark asked.
“No, you speak for him anyway. I’ve been locked in this hole for over a month and I want out. It’s obvious you aren’t going to let me back in the shelter. Open the damn door. I’m going back to civilization to see what’s happening. You can all stay in your underground warren and suffocate for all I care.”
James looked to Mark for direction.
“Your father said you could leave anytime you want, so go ahead. And Clay,” he added, almost reluctantly, “…good luck.” Mark had known Clay all Clay’s life and, although they had never cared for each other he still thought of him as a family member, even an errant little brother. He motioned to James and the airlock to the outside was activated, the inside door opening first, and then closing before the outside door opened.
Mark and James both glanced at the screen showing the image from the camera monitoring the parking area. They saw Clay enter the picture where he turned and looked back toward the camera mounted under a protruding rock above the shelter’s entry door.
He started across the parking area, and turning again, he flipped them off. After trying to start a few of the cars and finding their batteries dead he left the camera’s range and disappeared from view heading in the direction of the road.
Mark told James, “I’m going back to the party but I’ll stop and tell Will about Clay.”
He left reluctantly, having a feeling he should be paying more attention to the tiny earthquakes that appeared to have been gaining in strength and frequency over the past few weeks. Maybe they could alter the sensors to monitor them and evaluate whether they were indeed getting worse.
Stopping by Will’s room on the way back to the party, he informed Will that Clay had left the entrance cave.
“The radiation monitor shows that it’s fairly safe. Maybe there’s even less radiation at the lower elevations.” Mark told him. “He’ll be okay.”
“Mark, I had to do it. He’s never cared for anyone after his mother died. I had always hoped he’d grow out of it but it’s obvious he never will. May God forgive me.”
The latter surprised Mark as he had never heard Will refer to anything religious. “I’m going back to the wedding reception. Are you sure you won’t join us?”
“No. You go on.”
As he left he heard Will whisper, “Oh Katherine, what have I done?”
The festivities had moved from the auditorium to the multipurpose room where a reception was already underway by the time he arrived, but somehow he had lost his desire to celebrate.
March 13
The world was wrapped in a glittering, white shroud, from the several feet of snow covering the frozen ground to the flocked tips of the ponderosa pines growing in profusion around the cabin. Huge cottony flakes of snow drifted down from a gray sky that had become progressively darker for hours making visibility extremely poor. The nearer trees looked like specters approaching through the swirling snow, and the air temperature was colder than this part of the country had ever known this late in the season.
They’d burned the first two cords of firewood and were half way through the second, a few logs burning in the fireplace now as the creatures, retaining few characteristics of men, jostled one another in an attempt to get closer to the warmth. When the firewood was gone they would have to resort to tearing apart the furniture and staircase railings to burn, or face interment in a frozen tomb. The stored food was three quarters gone but the creatures had lost the ability to plan for the eventuality of depleted supplies. They retained enough knowledge to open the cans but hadn’t cooked anything for weeks. The staples had been consumed long ago and jerky, dried fruits and canned goods were all that remained. Arby, the only one left with any capacity for reasoning, could barely keep the others from eating the remainder of the food at one sitting.
The pain of their transformation continued unabated and they fidgeted, rubbed their shoulders and occasionally moaned, screamed or growled. The neutron radiation had targeted osteoclasts, the cells that reabsorbed bone, and destroyed them. It sent osteoblasts, cells that deposit bone, into a cancerous frenzy. Bone was being created at a tremendous rate and other tissues reproduced wildly to keep up with the organisms overall growth.
The changes were a combination of mutation and devolution. They were simultaneously becoming primitive precursors of Homo sapiens and genetically altered, otherworldly beasts.
Arby grunted at one of the changelings and motioned toward the door. The creature that had previously been Butch Cassidy growled at him but when Arby stretched to his full height the other beast climbed to his feet and shuffled toward the front entrance to fetch more firewood. When he opened the door, gusts of freezing wind blew snow and ice into the interior of the cabin, causing the other creatures to stir, moving closer to the warmth of the fire and whining their displeasure. He returned in minutes with an arm full of logs, his pelt covered with snow, and maneuvered his way through the others to pitch the wood on the fire. He shook himself like an animal and the others growled as the snow was flung in all directions.
The Arby thing descended the staircase to the basement and brought up a small box of dried food to distribute among the others. He had difficulty remembering what he was doing and had already satisfied his hunger before returning to the others. His only concern for his fellow creatures was motivated by self-interest; if he allowed them to die he would be alone in this white, cold, barren world that he had forgotten would someday be warm aga
in. Though he had no love or caring for the other creatures, they provided companionship and did whatever he forced them to do, like fetching firewood so he didn’t have to venture forth into the frigid outdoors. He would only allow them to starve if the food ran low and he needed it for his own nourishment alone.
March 30
“In the still of the night...” The smooth tones of the Five Satins drifted through the room as dancers swayed together. Mark had suggested to Lori that the remnant have a dance to take their minds off the enormous problems they’d been facing lately. With Faye Claret gone they hadn’t had as many celebrations as in the past. They decided on an old fashioned "sock hop" format since some of the survivors were in their sixties and had been teens during the "oldie but goodie" era. Others had known it through “Happy Days,” a T.V. series that reprised the era. That period of time represented nostalgia to most of the inhabitants, even the younger people. The multi-purpose room had been cleared of furniture and the basketball hoops had been shoved to the back of the room. Only couches were left along the walls for people to sit on. Surprisingly, almost everyone was dancing, as if clinging to each other for strength and comfort, their sanctuary all that separated them from the hostile world outside.
Johnnie Jay, being the natural selection for disc jockey, was programming the digital player to access the hundreds of songs that were stored in memory. He was alternating the fast and slow hits of the fifties and sixties with the more modern music the younger people enjoyed. For once the baby boomers, the generation X’ers and the millennials all seemed to be getting along, the music bringing them together where other attempts had failed. Decorations were barely visible along the walls of the darkened room and on the stage. Stores had only a few supplies for this sort of a party. White and pink crepe paper drooped along the walls with large red paper hearts, intended for a Valentines party, at the nadir of the loops. Crepe balls were strung from the ceiling at intervals, drooping so low they almost touched the heads of the taller men. In the tradition of sock hops “before,” they had shed their shoes at the door, a large pile attesting to the number of people who had chosen to attend this affair.
The past seven months had been tremendously difficult for the remnant. They had endured the worst catastrophe to ever befall mankind, had found security in the shelter, and subsequently had that security shaken with the tragedies that struck their little group. Although on an infinitely smaller scale, the events of the last few weeks had affected them all as personally as the nuclear war had done.
Mark stood in the doorway, looking around the room. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He saw Chris in the corner with Aaron Brown and started in their direction, but saw Aaron reach his hand over to hers and hold it tenderly. She was smiling at him, tilted her face up, and he kissed her. Mark decided to leave them alone and temporarily felt unsure of what to do. He felt someone at his side. “They’ve been getting pretty close these past couple of months, Mark. I’m sorry.”
In a daze he glanced to see Lori standing at his elbow. “I know. I was aware of it,…it’s okay.”
The song ended and Johnny Jay pushed buttons to select another song and the music filled the room with the voice of Rosie and the Originals singing “Angel Baby.”
“Mark, let’s dance.” Lori took his hand and pulled him out on the dance floor where they were joined by at least half of the assembled participants. He held her formally, a space between their bodies, staring into the corner. Lori pulled him closer, and surprised, he held her tight.
His mind was a jumble of thoughts. Rosie sang on in that high voice, “Don’t ever leave me, blue and alone . . .” He knew they had never really had a relationship; she wasn’t leaving him in any sense. She had never led him to believe they would be together, he had just assumed all these years that they were meant for each other. Mark realized that he wasn’t as upset as he thought he should be.
“Why not?” he wondered. He found himself actually happy for Chris, that she had someone to be with in this incredibly stressful period in all their lives. He held Lori close, swaying to the music. When the song ended he stepped back looking down at Lori and smiled. “I’m okay, really. Let’s get something to eat.”
Another song started and they snaked their way through dancers to the side of the room where the food was spread out on a long table pushed back against the wall. They had splurged for the party, but the selection reflected the lack of fresh supplies. They selected a small amount of food and made their way back to a sofa in the back corner.
The room had grown more crowded as additional people arrived late. At least three-fourths of the population of the shelter was at the party. Mark and Lori talked in hushed tones enjoying the fact that the others seemed to be having a good time for the first time in weeks. They listened to The Mamas and Papas singing about “California Dreamin,” when Mark heard a sound, a heart wrenching sob that drew the attention of the others in the room.
“I want to go home!” someone wailed. The dancers spread apart and a woman backed away from her partner, bent over as if in pain. He reached for her hand and tried to pull her back.
“Come on, honey, it’s okay”
“It’s not okay!” She was crying loudly. “It’s never going to be okay. We’re buried in this underground hole with no place to go. I want to go home!” She repeated.
“If we were home, we’d be dead. This won’t last forever, we’ll get out of here when it’s safe.” He pulled her back to him but she pushed him away, threw out her arms and addressed the others.
“Are we sure we can’t leave? How do we know what it’s like out there? Maybe there wasn’t even a war and we’re in some kind of experiment. I want to go home to California, no matter what it’s like.”
Many of the remnant looked to Mark since Will wasn’t at the party.
He stood and walked over to her, reached out both his hands and took hers. He smiled, “You know what? I miss California too. I miss the Dodgers and Dodger Stadium on a warm summer night in September with the Dodgers heading for the playoffs. The crowd doing the wave, dancing to music between innings and batting around beach balls until the ushers snag them.”
She smiled back at him. “I miss Dodger dogs.” She laughed through tears.
“And I miss concerts at The Hollywood Bowl and The Greek Theater” He backed slowly pulling her over toward the sofa.
“I miss Monday Night Football.” Her husband added. “We used to go to a little sports bar with a big screen TV and dollar beer and hotdogs.”
Mark and the woman sat on the couch and several people sat on the carpet in front of them. Lori came and sat by Mark.
Doug Harkens, an ex-lifeguard, sitting on a chair next to the sofa choked on his words as he said, “I miss the beach. We used to walk along the bluffs at Santa Monica and watch the sun set almost every night.” Doug’s wife hadn’t made it to the shelter. He talked with her before he left and she told him she was on her way to the airport. He never knew what happened to her.
Greg Whitehorse added, “Yes, like the sunset over the spires in Monument Valley. The brilliant colors are unlike anywhere else on Earth. I miss the eagle soaring above the canyons.”
Chris and Aaron pushed the sofa they had been sitting on across the room, ending up behind a growing number of people in the corner. Someone sat on the back of the sofa. “I sure would like to see a new movie. I miss seeing the previews for all the new ones. There won’t be any new movies.”
This caused another woman to begin to weep. “I love Harrison Ford. I wonder what happened to him?”
“I miss Keira Knightly and Adele,” said one man with a grin.
By now all the others had crowded around in the corner, dragging chairs and sofas or sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Johnny Jay programmed the CD player for continuous, random play, turned the volume down and joined the throng. The teens sat at the edge of the adults. One of the girls shouted out, “I miss Justin Bieber,” and then giggled self-con
sciously.
“ . . . and after thoroughly chewing me out, Daddy hugged me and said he would always love me,” one of the women finished as she told of the time, when she was sixteen, that her parents came home unexpectedly and found her and a boyfriend involved in a wild sexual encounter. Her husband of twenty years, the same boyfriend in the story, chuckled along with her.
They all agreed they missed old musicals, dining out at nice restaurants, New Year’s Eve parties and family campouts. They missed fresh air and the sun, and especially the moon at night, and “moonlight walks on the beach.” They missed the ability to instantly communicate with or get news from anyone around the world. Some missed mountains and rivers, others missed deserts and still others missed New York City. Summer concerts in the park, doing yard work and gardening, professional and recreational sports, dogs and cats and even T.V.
The kids opened up and reluctantly admitted to missing many of the same things the adults had. Most of them missed school and their friends. Skateboards, Malls, MTV and concerts, and especially junk food.
They all missed everyday pursuits, like going to work and wishing for the weekends, going to Little League and soccer games with their children, eating ice cream, skiing, riding horses and surfing the internet.