STOP!
I shook my head. “Stop thinking about the radiation and worry about the next step,” I said out loud. I put my cigarette out and stood up. As I stood up, I became dizzy and lightheaded. I braced myself on the couch arm and breathed. What did I learn in the military? What did they say about a nuclear explosion? “Stay in your bunker.” Okay. So, I will stay inside. That part was easy. Nothing else came to me. I slowly walked to the kitchen. Where was the explosion? Los Angeles? Jesus. Thousands possibly dead in one horrible second. Los Angeles was fifty miles east of here. East? Wind direction? I almost screamed with revelation. The fallout would fall over the Pacific ocean thanks to the Santa Ana winds. It didn’t mean there would be no radiation or fallout. But, that the immediate fallout would be pushed out toward the ocean. Not toward the east. Not toward my home.
With a sense of relief, I went to the kitchen sink and poured myself a glass of fresh tap water. Water? Oh shit. Water. I had plenty of food storage. I felt relatively content on that account, even if I didn’t leave the house for a whole month. Water, though? No plans were made for water.
I opened my fridge and used my phone in flashlight mode to light the interior. Five bottles of water. Damn. In my guest bathroom, I began filling the bathtub with water. At least, I could create a tub of water, that can be boiled for drinking. I even had some toilet water if needed. I began to feel pretty good about my chances of survival.
Wait. My phone. Shouldn’t I call someone? What if I was the only one to see it? Dialed Ethan’s number... Busy signal. Zero’s number... Busy signal. Damn, I haven’t heard a busy signal in fifteen years. What happens when my phone dies, and the electricity never comes back on?
I found a real flashlight and batteries in a kitchen drawer along with some duct tape. Turned off my phone to save the battery, grabbed the duct tape and went to the front window of the house. The one that looks out onto the neighborhood. I began duct taping the edges of the window. It was likely a futile effort, but it gave me something to do.
I was half way around the top edge of the window when I saw my neighbor outside. He was a stocky, short, Mexican man, named Enrique. He moved in just over four months ago, with his wife and two little girls. We were friendly, but not friends. He told me about his old house in Irvine before he lost his job and was forced to rent this little home, next door to me, from his brother-in-law. He seemed like a good guy. Now? Now, he was throwing a bunch of suitcases and bags into the back of his late nineties SUV. The SUV was the bane of his existence, he had once told me. Always breaking down. Always trying to fix it himself. I once suggested he take it to a proper mechanic and he looked at me like I insulted his sister. He saw me staring at him. Me with duct tape in hand, him with a suitcase. He waved a quiet, normal wave and shrugged. As if to say, ‘can you believe this weather?’ I waved back and continued to duct tape my windows. I suppose I could’ve mentioned to him, not to stand outside for extended periods of time because of the possibility of radiation. But, he probably would’ve just shrugged me off and continued doing what he was doing. Fifteen minutes later, Enrique and his family sped off into the night, never to be seen again. At least not by me.
The question going through most people’s mind, at least to those individuals who saw the explosion; To flee or hole up? I believe the biggest reward and risk, is to escape. If you can get on the road and get out of an area quickly, the better off. The problem is, you are not going to be the only one to make that decision, and you could be overrun by everyone else trying to get out of town. The more conservative option, especially if you have the food storage and the reasonable belief you don’t have to leave your bunker for long periods, is to stay put. Find a comfortable place and dig in for the long haul. That’s what I decided to do. The windows were duct taped. This included all the doors leading in and out. Even the attic opening was covered. Would this stop a direct hit of radiation fallout? No. Is it better than nothing? Yes.
Next up was to put on long sleeves and layers. If the radiation got inside the house, there was no need to allow it a nice wide area of skin to land on. I put on a t-shirt, under a long sleeve shirt, under a black Raiders raincoat; a beanie, pajama bottoms, under a loose fitting pair of jeans, a thick pair of socks and Rockport weatherproof boots. Thank the gods it was November, not July. I, also, put aside, gloves and ski goggles to wear, if I needed to go outside. But, while inside, there was no need to be that uncomfortable.
I checked the time on my phone: November 11, 2024. 2:15 a.m. 50% charged. No new messages or calls.
In my bedroom, I stripped the sheets, blankets, and pillows off my bed, grabbed the mattress and drug it into the hallway. I needed a place to sleep comfortably and feel safe. The best place for that was the hallway that ran the center of the home. It provided access to the bedrooms, bathrooms, living room and kitchen. More importantly, it was the most interior space in the house. No windows. I can close the doors to my guest bedroom, my office and my master bedroom. (This may sound like a large home, but it was quite small. The guest room was one hundred and twenty square feet. The office, smaller than that. I had a three-bedroom home that was only one thousand square feet. Visitors are always surprised there are three bedrooms inside.) While the house was small, that was a huge benefit at this particular time. No need to worry about monitoring a huge home. I can live in the hallway and be aware of the whole house. The queen size mattress did not fit comfortably with its sides creeping up the walls of the hall, but it would serve its purpose.
Next, organize the weapons. I had three guns. A shotgun, which I mentioned before. Along, with an assault rifle and a handgun. I spread them out on the red couch. Made sure each was loaded. Safety on. Then put the AR, shotgun, and the ammunition underneath the sink in the guest bathroom which was at the end of the hallway so I could guarantee the only access was through me. The handgun, I kept with me.
I sat down on my makeshift bed in the hallway and tried to fall asleep. I had water and taped up every crevice along windows and doors. Made a temporary shelter in the hallway. Enough batteries for my flashlight to last quite a while. I had moved my food storage to the bathroom at the end of the hall, along with the weapons. I was ready. Ready to bunker down for at least a month. Maybe I should get my new book.
Sitting on the mattress, head against a pillow propped along the hallway wall, I began to drift off to sleep.
I was going to survive this.
I checked my phone: 2:27 a.m. 49% charged. No new messages or calls. I closed my eyes...
I awoke suddenly, to a loud knock at the door. Then the doorbell chimed, which was right above my head in the hallway. That woke me up.
I immediately had my handgun ready and fully aware. I walked purposely to the front door. Flashlight and gun in hand. There was a knock again. At the door I looked through the peephole. That was useless. All I saw was a black blob, without the ability to turn on the porch light. But, it looked like a female. Long hair and a slender build. Jenna? Maybe? The doorbell rang again, this time with more urgency.
“Who is it?” I asked through the door.
“Kaitlyn.” Kaitlyn? My ex? Who came to my party with her husband and sat on my red couch all night? Why was she here at three in the morning? I opened the door.
She burst through the door talking a mile a minute, pacing back and forth. “Do you know what’s going on? There was an explosion. I was just sitting there after my friends left and I saw it. It looked like those explosions in movies from the fifties, a nuclear bomb, Jeff went back home yesterday, and I am stuck in a hotel, and I had nowhere else to go.” She finally stops and looks me over. “Is that a gun?”
There was a time when being with Kaitlyn was all I ever wanted. At Cal State Santa Barbara, she was my world. The person who made me feel the most alive. Unfortunately, that all ended. Now, she was standing in my house at three in the morning, in the dark, looking at me like I was crazy. Of course, I did have on a large jacket, a beanie on my head, and bundled for sub-freezing
temperatures in my own home. Oh, and I had a gun in my hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?”
“I had nowhere else to go.”
“So, you came here?”
“Look, I know after our fight on Saturday, you wouldn’t be happy to see me, but I mean this is extraordinary circumstances.”
Saturday? I don’t remember talking to her at all. I remember Jenna. Staying up late with Zero, discussing all the stupid things one discusses at one in the morning. Then I woke up on the couch.
“You don’t remember anything do you?” She must’ve seen the quizzical look on my face. “Jesus, Blake.”
“What did I say?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“It doesn’t matter now does it?”
“I suppose not.”
We both sat down on the couch, slowly letting the idea of our argument on a Saturday night, meant absolutely nothing, on a Monday morning.
“You drove here?” I asked. She nodded. “How was it?”
“Fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Most people are asleep and will have no idea when they wake up in the morning.” A sobering thought. She sat on the red couch; quiet. I did, as well. I put the gun on the side table and pulled out a cigarette from the interior pocket of my jacket and lit it. Four years ago, Kaitlyn would have admonished me for smoking, especially indoors. Now? She barely noticed.
“What’s with the outfit?” she asked.
“Radiation.”
Her face turned deadly white. “Oh, my God. I didn’t even think about that.”
“You should be all right,” I said, in between drags. She had on a long sleeve t-shirt and jeans, paired with red Converse. I used to love it when she wore Chucks.
“Do you have anything I can wear?”
“It’s okay. Most of the fallout will fall over the Pacific Ocean.” This didn’t seem to placate her. “If you want, take a shower. I have plenty of jackets you can wear.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got my suitcase in the rental.” I think the shock of everything was finally hitting her.
“To be safe, you might as well use the shower now. While the water is still on. I have a feeling that won’t last.”
She got up in a robotic manner and went to my bedroom. I showed her where the towels were and told her to look in the closet for a jacket she thought would be appropriate, so she wouldn’t have to go out to her car to retrieve her clothes. Then I left the bedroom, sat down on the red couch, lit up another cigarette and tried not to listen to the screaming in my head. Instead, I concentrated on the water from the shower. The, never more welcome, Santa Ana winds. The silence mixed with the sound of the rushing water through the pipes in the home and I did my best to hold the voices and fear at bay. I closed my eyes, enjoying the cigarette.
Twenty minutes later she emerged from my bedroom wearing an old, purple, Los Angeles Kings sweatshirt and her thick brown hair tucked underneath a brown and red, Superbad, beanie. I was still awake, but my eyes kept closing by themselves. I checked my phone, and it was 3:30 a.m. Approximately four hours since the explosion. I looked at Kaitlyn and smiled. She always pulled off the casual style swell. The clothes hung on her like a child in an adult’s costume. Kaitlyn was always short, maybe five feet tall, and cute as can be. She smiled sheepishly, holding out her arms, the sweatshirt sleeves pulled up to fit. Her green eyes, mixed with the dark brown hair, made me question my sanity for leaving her and joining the fuckin Army. Especially wearing that sweatshirt, which I had not worn in years.
“You look nice,” I said.
“Thanks,” Kaitlyn said. “You used to always wear this sweatshirt.”
“I did. Not sure it even fits me now?” I said, and she paused and pulled out the sweater to get a better look at it.
“What’s with the bed?”
“It was going to be where I crashed for the night. Hole up in the interior and protect all sides, extra layers and walls, from the radiation.”
“Do you really think it will be that bad?”
“It really depends on the size of the bomb.” I lit up another cigarette. “Since we could see the top of it from fifty miles away, is not good. But, I think with the Santa Ana winds, it should’ve pushed the fallout west. At least till the winds die down and switch to the standard ocean breeze. We should be okay and hopefully by the time that happens. Maybe Wednesday. It will have dissipated to a point where it won’t cause any immediate issues... Hopefully.”
“I still can’t believe it.”
“I know.”
“How am I gonna get home? They probably grounded all the planes.”
“We’ll figure something out. And you can stay here as long as you want. I got plenty of emergency food supply. Water in the tub should suffice, for now. A couple of guns. We won’t even need to leave the house until we know it’s safe.”
“Your mom inspire you to get the food supply?” I forgot how well she knew my mom. They always got along.
“Yep.”
The next morning, we found ourselves spooning on a curled up mattress, in the middle of my hallway. The spooning was familiar, we slept like this for at least a year straight. Her head resting on my left arm, my right arm resting on her right hip. She curled up in a ball, with her hands in a prayer position out in front of her. She always liked to ball herself up. It may have seemed intimate, to an outsider, but after last night, it was hardly more than a fleeting connection. That and the fact we were still wearing outdoor wintry weather clothes. We both, even after awakening, just laid still, enjoying the company. The sun was shining from one of the front windows, allowing light to enter our hallway cave. Eventually, she stirred. My right hand moved to her head and combed through her hair. Another gesture, born out of instinct and familiarity than out of purpose.
“How am I going to get home?” she said.
“We will find you a way,” I replied and meant it. She didn’t respond and snuggled in deeper into my body. Kaitlyn currently resided in Ogden, Utah, a long way from Southern California. She was down, because Jeff was out here for work and she tagged along to visit friends from Cal State Santa Barbara and, coincidentally, was available to go to my return party. As I mentioned before and will again: I have terrible timing. She decided to delay her Sunday morning return flight to visit with her ex-roommates before heading back to Utah, Monday morning. Her husband, meanwhile, took the scheduled flight home. Their daughter, was with his parents for the weekend, he didn’t want to leave them with that responsibility any longer than necessary. She was only staying in an Ontario hotel last night, instead of the one they had stayed at near Pasadena, so she could get to the Ontario airport early in the morning. Ontario is only a few miles from my house. These arbitrary decisions led her to my door.
“What time is it?” she asked. I turned my phone on. 9:41 a.m. 32%.
“Nine forty-five.” I checked to see if I could get online. No such luck.
“I would’ve been arriving in Salt Lake by now. Possibly home.” I didn’t say anything.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
We nearly jumped ten feet in the air. I was immediately up and signaled to Kaitlyn to stay quiet and stay put. In the living room, the light was blinding after our time in the hallway cave. The gun was still on the side table.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Slowly, gun drawn, I approached the front door and just as I am about to look through the peephole...
“Blake! Stop jerking off and let me in. The world’s ending!”
Zero had arrived.
CHAPTER FOUR
11/11/2024
It took some time to decipher Zero’s rambling story, but eventually, we learned what happened to him that morning. Evidently, he went to work just like everyone else and didn’t notice anything unusual until he arrived at the work site where Zero was employed by a construction company. On this morning, when he arrived, half the crew were aimlessly wandering ar
ound, and none of the supervisors or project managers were seen. While they waited, Zero was sure it was a holiday that he forgot. “But, that wouldn’t have made sense, cause half the crew wouldn’t have forgotten the same holiday,” he clarified.
“It is a holiday. Veteran’s Day,” I said.
“No shit? Damn. I don’t think we get that off though.”
After an hour of shit-talking and time-wasting, the crew decided to head home, and it was on his way home that Zero heard about what happened as he was refueling his truck. The line for the gas station stretched three cars deep out onto the right lane of the main boulevard. Since he had nothing else to do, he waited. I told him he was lucky to find a self-powered gas station, as most gas stations would be closed since the power was out. A half hour later, while pumping gas, he learned the truth, from a random guy at the pump next to his.
Or as Zero put it, “So there I was, minding my own business, getting gas. Finally. And this guy at the pump next to me starts staring at me funny. I was trying to ignore him. But, I accidentally looked him in the eye. Then he smiled at me and said, ‘Crazy huh?’. And I thought he was talking about the long line for gas and I was like. ‘Yeah.’ He just looked at me, like I was insane. ‘I can’t believe a nuclear bomb went off.’ At first, I thought what the fuck is this dude babbling about. But, then I looked around and saw everyone running around like a god damn chicken with their head chopped off, and everything started to make sense. Then the guy next to me said, ‘I heard there was more than one.’”
“Wait. What?” I asked.
“He said he heard on the radio that more explosions happened at other places.”
“The radio,” I said. Kaitlyn, who barely knew Zero, except for a brief encounter at my return party and a Christmas party four years past, had a perplexed look on her face, like a dog looking at its master not sure of the command. “We should have checked the radio.”
The Ending is Everything Page 3