The fallout shelter was a large rectangular space which probably doubled as a meeting hall or recreational room. At the far end I saw restrooms, a line of folding cots, and various other supplies. I guessed there were maybe a couple hundred people in the room already. I recognized the couple I had spoken to on my way in and went over to introduce myself. I extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Steen O’Mannon.”
“George Pascoe. This is my wife Gloria.”
She smiled and reached out a delicate hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Are you folks from around here?”
“Yes,” George replied. “I’m a native and Gloria here is a transplanted Yankee. How about you?”
“Same here. I’m originally from upstate New York.”
George smirked. “Another Yankee.”
I put him at around 60, which would make him 15 years older than me. He was dressed in loose-fitting black slacks and a blue college football jersey. His face was tanned and he had a full head of white hair. He sported a small beer belly but otherwise appeared to be in decent shape. Gloria looked to be about the same age as George. An original marriage I guessed – a real rarity these days. She was at least six inches shorter than her husband. She was thin with white hair cut in a short, stylish fashion. She wore a lavender pantsuit and a pair of white tennis shoes.
I said, “I’m going to go see what they’re saying on television. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”
“Sure, why not?” said George.
There was a large, old-fashioned tube television suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room. People were gathered around it watching intently. It was tuned to the Fox News Channel and it showed a reporter wearing a poorly-fitting helmet with the letters TV stenciled on the front. He was outdoors and appeared to be standing on a riverbank.
“—sources are reporting the near simultaneous explosions in Seattle and Los Angeles just moments ago. The explosions appear to have been caused by large missiles said to be strategic nuclear weapons. Strategic nukes are capable of wiping out entire regions we are told. In Dallas, the devastation has been—”
The reporter looked off-camera for a moment and then said, “I am being told we are going to go live now to Washington. As promised, the president is about to address the nation.”
A moment later, the presidential seal filled the screen. The television fell silent for a few seconds and I glanced at the papers in my hand. The handout talked about food and water rations and shelter rules. The president stepped in front of the camera. His face looked weary and he was devoid of the polish and good cheer with which we’d grown accustomed. He set a notebook on the lectern and looked grimly into the camera.
“My fellow Americans, I am speaking to you from a secure location far from the reach of our enemies. My cabinet and I are safe, as are key leaders of congress.
“Today, our nation has suffered a mighty blow, an unthinkable act of barbarism which we neither anticipated nor deserved. We have been attacked on our own soil by nuclear weapons. We were attacked without provocation or cause, by an enemy on the other side of the world. Earlier today, U.S. satellites detected the signature of a large-scale missile attack originating within the borders of North Korea. Today, the leaders of that rogue nation have made good on their threat to engage the U.S. in nuclear war. In their stated message to the world, this was a pre-emptive strike against the United States. The North Koreans have long said they feel threatened by the U.S. and our military capabilities. Although our missile defense system was able to neutralize a number of the incoming missiles, others slipped through and have struck at the very heart of our great nation.
“Casualty estimates are pouring in from major cities including Chicago, Washington, New York, Miami, Los Angeles, Seattle, and Denver. They number into the millions.”
He looked down and cleared his throat. Then with a rattled look on his face he added, “Tens of millions. In the northeast, entire regions have been wiped out.” His eyes flashed with anger. “It would appear that the nuclear capabilities of the North Koreans far outpace even the most ambitious assessments of our intelligence community. Furthermore, as we speak, our nation is still under attack. I urge you to heed the warnings that have been broadcast nationwide and seek shelter immediately. Every American under the sound of my voice is in imminent danger from the nuclear attack.”
The president looked down at his papers again and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. “My fellow Americans, it is important for you to know that this attack has not gone unanswered. I sat down with the joints chiefs of staff and the defense secretary in an emergency session to determine the appropriate U.S. response. As I’ve said, this is an unprecedented act of aggression. After evaluating our options, I authorized a full-scale nuclear counterattack. Strategic nuclear assets targeted for North Korea have been launched and have hit their targets. The counterattack includes major metropolitan areas such as the capital city of Pyongyang. Follow-up measures by our military will ensure that the North Koreans fully appreciate the consequences of their actions.”
He nodded at the camera, then cleared his throat again. “In the coming days and weeks I will address the nation as circumstances warrant. May God have mercy on us in this, our darkest hour.” The president’s eyes watered, then he quietly stepped back from the lectern.
I heard sobbing and crying in the room. Someone shouted, “Can we see the local news?”
A man reached for the remote which was velcroed to the side of the television. The picture switched to a reporter standing on a busy street.
“—as you can see, traffic is backing up. Everyone seems intent on getting out of town in the wake of the nuclear attack by the North Koreans. In a moment, we’ll go back to the studio but first let me share this fellow’s story with you.”
Someone grumbled, “Damned local news. Surprised they ain’t talking about the weather.”
The camera pulled out to reveal a young man in his teens standing next to the reporter. The teen wore a baggy pair of shorts that ended mid-calf and a colorful tee shirt. He was chewing gum and held a skateboard under one arm. The reporter asked, “Can you tell us your name, please?”
“Kyle.”
“Kyle, you don’t seem too concerned about the threat of nuclear war.”
Kyle shrugged. “Well…there’s nothing I can do about it. If they’re gonna get us, they’re gonna get us.”
Gloria shook her head.
George said, “These kids today, they’re nothing like the ones that fought in WW II.”
I nodded. “That’s for sure.”
The reporter continued. “—but can you tell us, is your family planning to leave town?”
“Naw. My dad says if they drop the big one he hopes it lands right on him.”
“Not interested in trying to survive a nuclear war?” the reporter asked.
Just then the screen filled with static. A second later the building shook violently and I heard a horrific boom, then howling winds unlike anything I’d ever heard before. Everyone was screaming and the room was plunged into total darkness.
Chapter 4
The battery-powered emergency lights cast an eerie glow throughout the shelter. Outside the wind howled and I heard debris crashing into the building. I stood there in total disbelief. Could this be what I thought it was? Had I just experienced the detonation of a nuclear bomb right here in my own hometown? I said a silent prayer and thanked God that I made it to the shelter in time.
People were pushing and screaming and I fought to stay on my feet. It was total pandemonium. Finally the winds died down to the point where I could hear myself think.
“Oh God!” someone screamed.
“We’re all going to die!” someone else shouted.
“Jesus, save us!”
I noticed a red light glowing along the wall by the door. The signed below it read, Radiation Hazard.
Suddenly a shrill whistle pierced the a
ir. “People! People! Do not panic. Remain calm.”
It was the woman who’d handed out the papers in the corridor. She blew the whistle again and people began to quiet down. “People! Listen to me! Everything is going to be alright. You are safe here. Remain calm. Quiet, please!”
“Oh my God!” a woman screamed.
“Ma’am, settle down. You’re going to be alright. Quiet, please. Quiet, please. My name is Moesha Jackson, but you can call me Ms. Jackson. I am the shelter captain.”
I looked over at Gloria. She was sobbing quietly as George held her in his arms.
Ms. Jackson went on. “Please be quiet. We are going to go over some rules in a minute but right now I just need everyone to remain calm. Relax. Quiet, please.”
As the wind outside grew quieter, the level of hysteria in the shelter came down a notch. Like all of the others, I was shocked by what I’d just experienced.
I asked George, “Do you have any family in town?”
George cleared his throat. “Yes, our son and his wife. And our granddaughter.”
That elicited an audible moan from Gloria.
I said, “I hope they made it to a shelter in time.”
George nodded solemnly. The look on his face said it wasn’t likely.
Ms. Jackson corralled us together and managed to get everyone’s attention. She was dressed in baggy sweatpants, black tennis shoes, and a red tee shirt. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a vertical bun and her fingernails were long and lavishly painted. “Everyone in here should have signed a form before you came in.” She held one up. “Did anyone not sign this form?”
No one said anything.
“Good. This is your commitment to abide by the shelter rules. Alright, I’m going to read the rules, and if anyone has a question just let me know. You can follow along in the handout I gave you when you came in here. Now listen up everyone. Rule number one: You may leave the shelter at any time but you cannot re-enter. Under no circumstances will anyone be allowed back in the shelter if you leave. Is that clear? It’s because of radiation. That sound you just heard was a nuclear bomb.”
A renewed round of cries and gasps.
“People! People! Quiet, please. You are in a nuclear fallout shelter, you’re going to be alright. Now listen up everybody, this is important. If you leave the shelter before it is safe to go outside you will be contaminated with radioactivity. If we allowed you to re-enter, you would contaminate everybody else. So, that’s not going to happen. Leave if you want to, but don’t come back. Uh-huh.” She wagged a finger. “That’s rule number one.”
“I want to leave,” a woman shouted.
There was grumbling in the crowd.
“Well, now hold on,” Ms. Jackson said. “Wait until I explain rule number two. Rule number two is, we will tell you when it is safe to leave. We have a radio over there that runs on batteries, and we will be listening to official reports that will tell us when it’s safe to go outside. Plus, we have our own radiation monitor. If you go outside now, you will die. It takes time for the radiation to go away. Now, anybody still wanting to leave?”
No one said anything.
“Uh-huh. I didn’t think so.” Her head gyrated a little as she said that and she seemed to pick up steam a she went along.
“Okay. Now let’s move on. Rule number three: Food and water will be dispensed by ration tickets only. If you don’t have a ticket, you don’t get to eat. Simple as that. We will be handing out ration tickets shortly. There’s enough food and water here for everyone so don’t worry about it. We just gotta follow the rules, that’s all.
“Rule number four: No weapons allowed. It’s for everyone’s safety. No weapons of any kind will be permitted in the shelter. If you have a weapon, you must surrender it. We will be coming around in a little bit to make sure you don’t have anything dangerous. If we find you have a weapon later on after the weapon confiscation, meaning you hid it from us, you will be asked to leave. Surrender your weapons now or you’re out the door.
“Rule number five: You must be quiet during lights out. That’s from 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Nobody should be making any noise in here so everyone can sleep.
“Rule number six: No one may harass, attack, or abuse anyone else. That means verbally or physically. So be nice people, and get along.
“Rule number seven: This one pretty much goes without saying but I have to read all the rules. Elimination of bodily wastes shall occur in designated areas only. That means do your bathroom business in the bathroom.” She pointed. “We have a mens room and a ladies room. If the toilets stop working, chemical toilets will be set up in their place. So either way, do your business in there and in there only. That rule is for the safety and hygiene of everyone in here.
“Rule number eight: No sexual relations. I’m not going to go into detail on that one, but take a look around you. There’s children in here and we are all in one big room. So you know what I’m talking about. Enough said on that one. No sexual activity of any kind.
“Rule number nine: No stealing. Some people brought things in here with them, and that’s fine, but that’s their stuff so leave it alone.
“And finally that brings us to rule number ten: Rule violators will be asked to leave. That means if you break the rules, you’re going on the other side of that door.” She pointed. “People, believe me, that’s a death sentence. You do not want to be going out that door until it’s safe outside.”
She held up the paper and said, “I’m going to post these rules on the bulletin board and you all have copies. If anyone has any questions, please come see me. We are going to come around now and confiscate your weapons. We need everyone to line up single file along the walls.”
I looked at George and Gloria. “The ten commandments.”
George allowed himself a guffaw. “Yeah, and she just appointed herself God.”
After Ms. Jackson and her assistants collected a handful of pocket knives and at least two handguns that I saw, the next few hours were spent settling in. Ration tickets were distributed and everyone was assigned a cot. Ms. Jackson was flanked by her own security detail, a couple of big dudes who followed her around and obeyed her every command.
I stood in line to use the bathroom, then later I stood in line for dinner. Dinner our first night consisted of green beans, Vienna sausages, rice, and bottled water. Everything came on a plastic tray like the ones I remembered from grade school. George and Gloria went through the serving line with me. We made our way to a table where two ladies sat. I said, “Mind if we join you?”
“No problem,” one of the ladies said. She was a big woman, probably mid-fifties with light hair. Her body resembled a refrigerator, a place she no doubt frequented often. She spoke with her mouth half full and barely acknowledged us. The other woman was about 30 years younger, probably her daughter. Unlike her mother, she was thin and had a shapely figure.
We were quiet at first, all of us still in shock from the day’s events. I glanced over to the television which had been off since the lights went out. “I guess the television isn’t on battery backup like the lights,” I speculated.
George thought about that for a minute and said, “Or, maybe the station got knocked off the air.”
I nodded. I glanced over at the two ladies and offered an introduction. “Hello, I’m Steen O’Mannon.”
The older woman nodded. “Good to meet you Steve. I’m Suzanne and this here is Jennifer.”
I didn’t bother to correct her. George and Gloria introduced themselves.
“You live here in town?” I asked.
“Yes, we live on the Westside,” said Suzanne. She paused for a moment and then asked, “How about you all?”
George said, “We live on the Southside.”
“Same here,” I said. “Or used to.”
George asked, “What do you mean—?” Then he caught himself. “Oh. What a thought. Yeah, maybe we should all speak of our homes in the pa
st tense.”
Gloria shook her head. “Now there’s a cheerful thought.”
“Now just hold on,” said Suzanne. “We don’t know that.”
“Mom!” Jennifer said. “Get real. A nuclear bomb just exploded. You think our house is still there?”
“Some information would be nice,” Gloria said. “We’re being treated like children.”
Suzanne agreed.
“Well,” I said, “I guess they feel like they need to establish order.”
George said, “I can look around this room and tell you who’s going to be trouble.”
Gloria said, “Now George, don’t you start. You don’t know that.”
“The hell I don’t. I can spot a troublemaker from a mile away. And we’ve got a few in here.”
I looked down at my food. It had been hours since I’d eaten, but under the circumstances I just wasn’t hungry.
Anxious to change the subject, Gloria asked, “Jennifer, does your cellphone work?”
“No,” she replied. “Does yours?”
Everyone but George agreed their phones didn’t work. George had his turned off. After a few minutes of fiddling with it he declared his was dead as well.
“Probably blew up the cell towers,” I said. “Or the power plant. Or both.”
George nodded. The women stared blankly.
“Well, I don’t know about all that,” Suzanne said, “but I’m fixin’ to go crazy if I can’t make some calls.”
“Me, too,” Gloria said.
After dinner, one by one people laid claim to their cots. We sat around and talked until Ms. Jackson blew her whistle and announced it was time for lights out. I settled in for what would be a fitful night’s sleep.
Chapter 5
Days in the shelter were spent talking and playing games when we weren’t busy standing in line. We stood in line for ration tickets, we stood in line for meals, we stood in line for water, and we stood in line to use the restroom. The toilets quit working after the first day and the shelter staff set up chemical toilets as promised. The sinks no longer had running water so we used hand sanitizer instead. My nights were spent tossing and turning on that godforsaken cot. I never slept for more than an hour at a time. There was no television, no radio, and no telephones. We were completely cut off from the outside world, save for Moesha Jackson’s radio. If she was receiving any news on it she certainly wasn’t sharing it with us. Her goons pushed a man out the door for having a concealed weapon. The radiation warning light glowed continuously and time went by more slowly with each passing day.
How to Survive a Nuclear War Page 2