by Hunter Shea
Remembering what her religious instruction teacher, Sister Margaret, always told them to do in stressful times, she prayed. First an Our Father, then five Hail Marys. When she came to the end, she found her chest feeling a little lighter, so she said another five, mumbling the words so she could drown out what Buck was saying in the next room.
Unlike most kids, she didn’t want to know.
26
Daniel was both bone-tired and wired. He was still reeling, as they all were, over what had happened. Add to that the incredible revelation that his friend and neighbor had been preparing for this, and keeping his family in his plans, was almost overwhelming.
Why the hell didn’t we move to Vermont, or North Dakota, or even Canada? Daniel thought, silently punishing himself for not taking better care of his family. You knew New York wasn’t safe anymore, and you didn’t have the guts to break away. You had to stay in your comfort zone. Even after Mom and Dad had passed, you were still too afraid to leave the nest.
When Buck mentioned the possibility of an EMP bomb detonation, a score of puzzle pieces suddenly locked into place, breaking his self-flagellation.
He said, “That would explain the phones and cars. Jesus, if there were any planes in the area when they went off.”
Buck looked at them all gravely. “That might account for some of the later explosions when the planes hit the ground.”
Elizabeth said, “Will one of you please tell us what an EMP bomb is? Is it nuclear?”
“No,” Daniel answered. “In some ways, it’s worse. EMP stands for electromagnetic pulse. Just about everything we rely on today is electronic.”
Buck interjected, “Shit, people even need electronic devices to read a damn book now. No one carries cash anymore. Why? Because we have credit and debit cards. This country is full of gadget geeks who think they’re the smartest nerd on the block because they’ve integrated their entire lives with smartphones and tablets and cars that can be turned on while you’re landing in a jet.”
Daniel swiveled in his chair to face his wife. “There have been a lot of people in the IT community who have voiced concerns that we’ve become so dependent on our machines that we’ve left ourselves wide open for a devastating attack. But this one wouldn’t come with suicide hijackers or flames or unstable nuclear devices. An EMP explosive device lets out a brief but powerful electromagnetic pulse that virtually fries everything electronic within its detonation range. People and infrastructure are left unharmed.”
Alexiana let out a long sigh. “Well, at least that’s good.”
Buck held up a finger. “Initially, it sounds like we dodged a bullet. However, if EMP bombs are strategically placed, they effectively knock out all of our communications and banking, as well as our power grids. Right now, we could all be penniless and cut off from the rest of the world.”
“What about people in hospitals and homes hooked to monitors and different machines?” Alexiana asked.
“I’m afraid there wouldn’t be much hope for them,” Buck said. His face had gone pale.
“If one of those went off, wouldn’t your lights down here be out, too?” Rey asked.
Daniel noticed how Dakota leaned closer to him, her hand almost touching his. If they were all going to be in close quarters for an extended period of time, he’d have to keep an eye on that. Rey was a minor, after all, and Dakota was too much woman for a boy to resist.
“Like I said, I’d prepared for that. The shelter is completely shielded and grounded. I also made sure I replaced anything electronic with devices that had been hardened, which means they’re impervious to an EM pulse. Even the air-filtration system I installed can’t be taken out. I know quite a few people have shelters, but I’ll bet you a million bucks almost none of them were set up for this. What most folks haven’t realized is that the fundamentals of war have changed.
“Various countries and terrorist organizations have been targeting the Internet and massive databases in the U.S. over the past few years. I’m sure your father knows a lot about that.”
Daniel nodded. The government and private companies were investing millions, possibly billions, into safeguarding against professional hackers. The hackers themselves were being trained and financially compensated by their own countries. He’d read an article about a recent attempt by an Al-Qaeda operative working out of Canada who had attempted to worm his way into the NSA’s database. Luckily, he was clumsy and the Feds had been able to trace it back to him. He was facing a long stint in Guantanamo Bay for his efforts.
Buck said, “There’s been a lot of chatter about leaps in EMP weaponry, especially in Russia. Nuclear war is a losing game. Mutually assured destruction makes winners of no one. This is more insidious. It rips centuries of development right out from under us. If you can’t communicate, you can’t organize. An unorganized people is easy to conquer, the land isn’t toxic, and there will be plenty of spoils to plunder.”
Daniel looked to the door leading to the bunkhouse section of the shelter. He hoped the kids weren’t listening in. There were already more than enough difficult things they would need to explain to them.
While Buck continued talking, he closed his eyes for a moment. We’re safe down here, but for how long? When we open that door, what are we going to see? How did this happen?
“Daniel?” Elizabeth said, gently rocking his knee. “Are you all right?”
He took a deep breath that did little to calm his fears. Daniel managed to put on a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to wrap my head around everything.” He kissed the tip of her nose, caressing her cheek.
“So, what do we do now?” Rey asked. Despite his wound, he looked keyed up enough to run a marathon. Daniel wondered if he should have let him have a little bit of vodka. Drinking age laws had obviously been suspended for the foreseeable future.
Buck looked at the main shelter door. “We sit tight, and we wait.”
27
A lone low-wattage bulb burned in the ceiling in the bunkhouse. Buck had an old windup clock sitting on a trunk. It ticked with the passing of each second. Elizabeth lay in a bottom bunk, staring up at the metal meshwork that supported Daniel’s mattress.
Across from her, Max and Miguel were in a bottom bunk, facing away from one another. Gabby was above them, mouth open slightly, knees drawn up to her stomach. Rey had a bunk bed to himself. His bandaged arm had come out from under the thin blanket and hung off the side of the bed.
All of her miracles. And then there was the miracle of this place, and the incredible kindness of their neighbor who had secretly taken it upon himself to make sure the Padilla family was safe.
Elizabeth counted the ticks of the clock between each of Buck’s thunderous snores.
Six seconds.
It was a wonder anyone could sleep with the amount of noise coming from Buck’s throat.
They’d all decided it was best to go to bed after Buck had spent the good part of an hour first cranking his portable radio to give it a charge, then shuffling all up and down the dial, searching for any kind of signal. The radio was hooked up to an antenna that he said went to the surface.
There had been nothing but dead air and static. It was as if the world above them had simply blinked out of existence. There wasn’t much to say after that, so they each picked their bunks and closed their eyes. Tomorrow had to be a better day.
The bed above her shifted, springs squeaking. Elizabeth stretched her leg up, softly pushing her foot against the mattress.
“Daniel, you awake?” she whispered.
She heard him roll to the edge of the bed. His head popped over the side. He looked at her upside down.
“I can’t shut my brain down,” he whispered back. “I could have used more vodka.”
“I can’t help thinking about camp,” she said. “My parents sent me to Camp Keewanna up in Maine for two summers. I feel guilty thinking about the fun I had at camp after . . .”
He reached a hand out to her. She took it,
reassured by the warmth and strength in his grip. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Close your eyes and go to camp. It’s better than the alternative. When you come to your first kiss behind the canoes, feel free to replace Harold Sanders with me.”
She squeezed his hand. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Try to sleep. There’s nothing we can do for now. And I don’t think this place is going to be conducive to naps, not with all of us crammed in here. So get it while you can.”
Stretching his neck, he kissed the back of her hand. His head and arm disappeared and he settled back into bed. She knew he was getting himself into his comfort position, resting on his right side, one hand under his pillow, the other flat against his leg, knees slightly bent. She’d watched him fall asleep like that almost every night for twenty years.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, conjuring up images of Camp Keewanna, chasing a moment of sleep that did its best to elude her.
She wondered about Harold Sanders. She hadn’t seen him since that last day of camp. Was he married with a family, like her? Where were they now? Did the same nightmare play out there, as well? Were Harold and his family as lucky as they had been?
Were they even still alive?
28
Dakota woke up in a panic. She sat straight up in bed, taking in the row of bunk beds across the room. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was or who the people were around her.
She took a breath, and the nightmare that had jolted her awake in the first place faded into oblivion.
She was in a bomb shelter. The man who owned it was named Buck. She tried to remember his girlfriend’s name but came up blank.
What time was it?
It looked the same as it had when they stumbled off to try to catch some sleep. Her eyes found the alarm clock. The hands glowed in the low light.
Almost five.
Did that mean five in the morning, or five at night?
How long would they be down here before they lost all sense of day or night? Maybe it had already happened.
Cradling her head in her hands, she suppressed the urge to cry. First, she didn’t want to wake up the kids. Second, she was pretty sure if she started, it would be impossible to stop.
Carefully, she crept out of her bunk. She spotted Rey sleeping in a bunk next to the rest of his family. If it weren’t for him, she would have most likely hidden in the closet in the race office. She recalled the sound the horses made when they tried to muscle into the building. Her jaw clamped down tight. She’d heard the term “paralyzed with fear,” had read those words often in the suspense novels she devoured, but she’d never truly understood it until yesterday. When the bombs or whatever they were went off and everything went bat shit crazy at the track, she literally couldn’t move or speak—not even when all of the other secretaries tried to pull her along with them to their cars.
Cars that wouldn’t start.
She replayed what she saw in the track’s parking lot. How the horses assaulted everyone in sight.
That could have been her.
Tiptoeing into the main room, she sat down at the table. Fishing for her cell phone in her pants pocket, she placed it on the table, giving it a few spins. Even if it worked and she wasn’t hiding under the earth like a frightened rabbit, there wouldn’t have been anyone to call.
Her parents had died driving to her college graduation. It had rained the night before, and according to the police, her father had hydroplaned over a massive puddle. He lost control and ended up in the oncoming lane right in the path of a bread delivery truck.
Mom had died instantly, but Dad clung to life for another painful two weeks.
When she buried her parents, she also buried every hope and dream she had conceived when they were alive. She’d never gone back to pick up her diploma. Her degree in economics held no fascination for her.
The insurance money and the sale of the house left her enough to drift for a while. She didn’t make friends because there was no point. When she tired of a place, which didn’t take long, she’d disappear and the people she’d met there would be out of her life.
In fact, she had just been thinking about picking up stakes in Yonkers and going north, maybe to Boston.
Buck had said that if an EMP bomb had been used, they were now penniless. All she had was twelve dollars in her pocket. The rest was in the bank. There had been three hundred thousand left, from her last account.
All of it, gone.
And now she was in a hole, with strangers. No one knew what actually happened. Was it safe to go out today?
She bit her lower lip to stifle the tears that started to fall.
Just appreciate the fact that you’re not alone, for once. These people will take care of you.
But for how long? They didn’t know her. If supplies ran low, would they ask her to leave?
Maybe it was best to go now.
29
Alexiana heard a dull thunk and was instantly awake.
Someone’s trying to get in the shelter!
Everyone else was still asleep. She scooted out of her bed and went to shake Buck awake.
She and Buck hadn’t told the Padillas about the gun safe tucked away in the back of the bunkhouse. In it were several pistols, four rifles, two shotguns, and enough ammunition to hold off a small army, which Buck had been prepared to do if need be.
The safe had a combination lock that required six numbers, each in a specific sequence. No one was getting in there who shouldn’t.
When Buck wakes up, I’ll go to the safe.
Her boyfriend was sleeping on his side with his back to her. His snoring was at a lull.
Wait, Buck has his .38 under the pillow. No need to break out the rest.
Her heart banged against her chest walls. She was jumpy as hell, but she had a damn good reason for it.
Just as she placed her hand on Buck’s shoulder, she saw Dakota at the door, trying to get out.
She pulled her hand back and sighed, expelling a good dose of her fuel-injected nervous energy.
Quietly shuffling out of the bunkhouse, she stopped short of the door and said, “It’s as difficult to get out as it is to get in.”
Dakota whipped her head around. Her eyes were red and swollen, a pool of tears barely contained within her lower lids.
“Can you help me, then?” Dakota said.
Alexiana shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what’s on the other side. For all we know, opening that door will let in toxic gas or nuclear fallout. I’m not gonna take that chance.”
Eyeing the keypad on the wall, Dakota said, “You don’t even know me. There’s no reason to keep me here.”
Alexiana unfolded one of the chairs and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “I just gave you a very good reason to keep you here. And here’s another one. You’re part of us now. You’re here for a purpose, even if you don’t know what it is at the moment.”
The girl slumped against the door. “I’m here because of dumb luck. If Rey hadn’t found me in the race office, I’d still be there, or in my apartment, or maybe the school down the block from me. I remember reading in the paper that it was one of the city’s fallout shelters.”
Reaching under the table, Alexiana rummaged through a crate until she found a two-cup coffeemaker. “You want to get me some water?” she asked, pointing at the two water-coolers.
Dakota got back to her feet, dusting off the back of her slacks.
“You’ll need this,” Alexiana said, holding out the little glass pot.
She took it and filled it.
Alexiana flipped a switch and an orange light blazed on the coffeemaker. “Battery-powered. We have an electric one, too, but it’s best to save the generator as much as we can.”
In silence, they made their coffee, both drinking it black with no sugar.
Alexiana moved a straggly lock of hair from Dakota’s face while she drank. Their unexpected
guest smiled. By the end of their first cup, her tears had dried.
30
No one talked much the next day, not even Miguel, who was usually a nonstop chatterbox. Max played two games of Chutes and Ladders with him after a breakfast of granola bars and a powdered orange drink that didn’t taste so bad once everything dissolved.
After that, Gabby agreed to color with him. They were both on the bunkhouse floor, a box full of crayons between them.
All of the adults were around the big table, talking in that special low way that meant they didn’t want the kids to hear. Even the pretty girl whom Rey had brought with him was with them, sitting between Alexiana and their mother.
Max sat on a bunk opposite Rey, who was reading some kind of manual that Buck had given him.
“This is crazy,” Max said.
Rey looked over the manual. “Which part?”
“All of it. I want to go outside. I can’t stay down here like a friggin’ mole.”
“You’re not going anywhere, so don’t talk like a tough guy.”
“But what if everything’s okay now?”
“It’s not. If it was, there’d be someone on the radio. That’s why Buck asked me to read up on this.”
Max read the cover. “How can they make a radio out of ham? That’s just dumb.”
Rey shook his head. “I hope you’re just trying to be funny. It’s like a kind of phone, or the way cops talk to the station in their cars. I’m going to see if I can talk to anyone, find out what’s going on. Buck said this is a real old-fashioned way to communicate and there might not be many people left who even own a ham radio, but it’s worth a try.”
“Let me see that,” Max said, plucking the book from his brother’s hands.
Rey started to protest, then broke out in a coughing fit.
“Dude, cover your mouth.”
Gabby looked up from the picture of a frog she’d been coloring. “Are you okay?”