Like a mad bull one man began ramming his truck into the center divider, finally smashing a gap in it. Then he raced his truck through. There was a virtually empty stretch of freeway before him and he quickly accelerated. Other cars streamed in behind him. Instead of three lanes for traffic exiting Los Angeles there were now six....and Althea faced them.
Turning her attention to the highway in front of her, Althea gasped. What she saw was madness! Had she driven onto the wrong side of the highway? She slowed and looked wildly around. Approaching vehicles had at first appeared to be on the opposite side of the divider—now suddenly her lane was blocked by on-coming cars....cars speeding directly toward her!
Althea felt a weakness in her knees and wondered if she’d be able to use her legs. Every nerve was jumping as she braked with her left foot and began pulling as near to the edge of the road as she could get. The cars bore down on her, horns blaring.
They flew past her and cut in behind her, the nearest driver shaking his fist as he careened past. The embankment on her right was steep—a slope that dropped some twenty-five feet to a residential street below. Althea peered out at the edge. The right wheels of her coupe were barely hanging onto the brittle shoulder.
A jar brought her attention away from the shoulder. In front, a young man and his family were stacked in a land rover that was nose to nose with her coupe. She saw his motioning arm and heard his curses to move, but there was nowhere for her to go.
In his anger, the driver cut his rover sharply and pushed into her left fender. She heard the crunching of metal but its significance was lost on her as she felt herself begin to slide. The car teetered for a moment on the edge, than as the right wheels slid off, the machine began to roll. Over once, over twice, tumbling its contents around, it reached the street below in a battered state. Rocking back and forth on its wheels, it came to rest. Miraculously it had ended in an upright position in the flat dirt area below the freeway.
Althea was dazed. The flips had jostled her equilibrium. She loosened the restraining seat belts and laid her head back for a moment, breathing deeply several times. Her limbs trembled spastically, and a powerful urge to urinate came over her. With sheer will, she forced the sphincter valve in her bladder to close, and she continued with the deep breaths until most of the twitching had left her muscles. Finally she was sufficiently calm to pull herself upright.
There were numerous people rushing by but none had the slightest interest in her or her predicament. Then she almost laughed as she realized the motor of the little coupe was still purring despite its tumble down the embankment. Althea felt an almost human relationship with the car at that moment. At least it hadn’t disappointed her.
The car went into gear with a strange crunching sound but moved forward regardless. Althea peered out of the cracked windshield at the neighborhood around her. This small satellite city of Los Angeles, with its poorer older houses, was familiar territory. By winding through its residential streets she would be able to get home.
Before long Althea drew to a halt before the aging frame house of her parents. The trip had taken over three tense hours. She exhaled loudly as she let herself relax for a moment. She’d made it....at last. But it wasn’t over yet. She knew that.
Her mother was waiting on the porch. Tiny, steel-gray ringlets formed a halo around the ebony face of the older woman. She broke into a worried frown as Althea climbed out of the car and started toward her. “Did you come by that place?” she asked.
“No, Mama, I took the long way around,” replied Althea as she walked into the house.
“Your car, Thea....what happened to it?” asked the mother as she noticed the collapsed top and battered sides of the vehicle.
Althea, inside, sank into the sofa. “Some white bastard shoved me off the road.”
“Althea! Are you all right?”
“Yes, Mama. I’m okay.” Once this morning, for a split second, she’d thought she wouldn’t make it. She’d been afraid that she’d never see either parent again. Her father interrupted her thoughts. Coming up behind her he laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Your mama and I decided we’d better stay put until you got here, Thea. We figured you’d know what to do.”
She reached up and patted his gnarled fingers.
Jess Carr walked around to sit on the stool at his daughter’s feet. He was proud of his daughter—his only child. He’d worked extra night shifts to see that his girl got an education so she could lift herself above the level of other black people. He’d wanted a better station for Althea than he and Lou Ella had, and he’d helped her get it. She, in turn, had never given them reason to be unhappy with her.
“When we heard about it we couldn’t believe it for awhile.....It seems like we’re an awful long way away from that thing, Althea. Look, our lights are still on and everything. But that man on the radio just kept going over it and over it. If he’s telling the truth, it’s pretty scary.” The old man blinked his eyes slowly.
“I know, Dad. Sometimes I wonder if any of us know enough about this accident to be properly frightened,” replied Althea. “I wish I could believe we were safe up here.” Then peering at her father closely, she asked, “Are you feeling all right, Papa?”
“Me? Oh, I’m doing good, Thea.”
Three years it had been since the heart attack. Three years since he’d been forced to quit work and take life easy. Being without an income and with only the meager pension had hit him hard. He hadn’t wanted to be dependent on anyone, not even his child. But he’d had no choice in the matter. “Do you reckon it’s as bad as they say on TV?”
Althea rubbed her forehead trying to ease the pain of a headache that was just beginning. “I don’t know....I suppose we must believe that it's that bad. What else can we think, anyway? At least you have power up here.”
Jess watched as her slender dark fingers massaged her temples. His heart ached with pride every time he looked at the thin face, the aquiline nose, and the large black eyes. He was continually amazed that he and Lou Ella had been able to produce such a beautiful child. No coarse features or thick lips on his girl, but very definitely his child, nevertheless.
Althea got up to go into the kitchen for a glass of water. She moved with the grace of a lovely black swan. “What are we going to do,” asked her father.
She returned with the glass. Without replying, Althea picked up the telephone and dialed. There was much static and interference on the line but she finally got through to her number. “Aunt Bertha? This is Althea... .yes, in L.A.....No, we’re all right, all of us. Aunt Bertha, we’re going to have to get out of here....yes, soon.” Althea paused to listen. “Well, naturally St. Louis is a long way off but when we leave here we need to have some destination in mind.” Again she listened. “Driving in the car will be our best chance....What?” For what stretched into a minute Althea listened. Then slowly she hung up the phone.
Her mother stood at her elbow, a small portable radio in her hand. Lou Ella was an inveterate listener of the box. Television was interesting but that was for evening. A radio was kept tuned in during the whole of each day. When her chores carried her away from the console in the living room or away from the kitchen and the pink Emerson that sat above the refrigerator, then Lou Ella pocketed the little transistor and carried the news and music with her. Standing beside her daughter she asked, “What happened, Althea?”
Althea let her gaze wander around the room before she finally returned to her mother. Exasperation and anger filled her voice when she answered. “Aunt said we should not come to St. Louis, Mama. They’ve been told that anyone from this area will be contaminated with radiation and would pollute everyone we come in contact with. Pollute, can you beat that! It make us sound like some kind of garbage.”
Lou Ella, surprised, threw her hand over her mouth. “My very own sister....Bertha said that?”
Jess caught his wife and laced his arm around her.
“Ohhhh,” moaned Althea, “of all thin
gs.....Well, we’ve got to get out of here anyway.” Grasping the phone determinedly, she said, “I’m going to make one more call. Maybe the airport....”
Los Angeles International Airport had had a typical, weekday early morning at the busy terminals. Passengers hastened to flights, to luggage centers and to ticket booths in preparation for arrival and departure.
George Kingsley, making the best use for the hour lay-over between Dallas and Tokyo, had walked down the concourse to the souvenir stand in the front of the terminal. He paid his dime and folded the copy of the Los Angeles Times under his arm. He had just turned and was about to thread his way to the coffee shop upstairs when a shrill sound from the public address system screeched through the air, immediately followed by the announcement .
“Attention all passengers! Attention all passengers! All flights are canceled. Repeat. All flights are canceled until further notice!”
Travelers stopped and listened intently, shocked looks on their faces. The announcement continued. “Due to an accident at White Water Nuclear Power Plant radiation has been released into this area. All air traffic in and out of Los Angeles is discontinued until further notice! All passengers and air personnel are advised to seek shelter for the duration of the emergency!”
The people were clearly stunned by this news—though not so much by the announcement concerning radiation as by cancellation of the flights. For many, and especially for those stranded between flights, this was more than simply inopportune. Where could they take shelter? Some could quickly return to their homes, but what about those caught between destinations?
The people stood fixed for a long moment, exchanging glances of bewilderment at this sudden development. Then a man broke ranks and began walking rapidly, breaking shortly into a run. That one person was the catalyst for the rest. Nearly everyone began hurriedly moving, then running, shoving and pushing those still immobile out of the way.
It was readily apparent to George that the sudden rush of people breaking toward the street indicated they had absorbed the impact of the news and were abandoning the airport. In an instant there was a mob around him, a bulging tide of bodies headed toward the exterior. He felt himself being pushed backward and reached out for leverage. Failing to grasp firm footing, the mass of moving people lifted him off his feet and hurled him into the concession stand and across its counter. Suspended over the counter, he saw the mob grow in the rush to the outside. In their frantic haste, the crush of people swelled at the double exit doors until it became a huge knot of squirming flesh. Only a few broke through and raced into the street, others piled into the congestion, making exit to the outside nearly impossible. Then stamping like stampeding cattle they pushed and kicked at each other until screams began to fill the morning air.
George heard the cracking of the thick floor-to-ceiling windows in tandem with agonizing screams. The forefront of the mob had been shoved through the wide windows and beyond the jagged glass. The wounded staggered about on the sidewalk, their cuts bleeding profusely, as more and more were swept through the gaping hole, pushed from behind.
It was a scene of madness.
Althea faced her parents. Their looks of expectation were plainly written on their faces. They were waiting for her to set some order to this....to their lives. She was the educated one, she was one who’d know how to cope with such as this. Even as a little girl Althea had shown her difference from other girls in the neighborhood. She’d absolutely refused to have her hair put in corn braids and she was only six at the time. Before she was ten she already knew that she wouldn’t be scrubbing some white woman’s floors as Lou Ella had done. No ma’am, not Althea. Althea was going to be a school teacher.
She heaved a short sigh. “Mama...let’s get a few things together. Here, I’ll help you,” and she started off toward the bedroom.
Jess called out, “But what are we going to do, Thea?”
Althea hesitated before she answered him. She didn’t have to worry about whether the airlines would take her credit card—or whether or not she and her parents could even get on a flight. A recording had answered her call to the airport. It had repeated the word 'closed' over and over again. She turned to reply. “We’re leaving the area. To where I’m not sure, yet...but we’re getting away from here.” She walked out of sight.
The older couple followed her into the bedroom. “What can we do?” asked Jess.
Thea glanced at her father with concern. Would his heart stand up to this? “Papa, do you feel like loading the car?”
“Sure. What goes first?”
“Anything we have that’s of value....anything that’s small enough to be carried along.”
She watched as he started away. “Papa! Do you have a good supply of digitalis?”
His tired face formed a soft fleeting smile as he nodded. “I got plenty.”
Lou Ella caught her breath. “Thea,” she whispered, “I’m nearly out of insulin.”
“Oh, Mama, no!”
The older woman’s dark skin suddenly turned an ashy gray. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. I’d planned to buy it when I did shopping in the morning.”
This recent crisis loomed before Althea with fierce intensity. She closed her fist and pounded it once against her forehead. To her mother, who was severely diabetic, the insulin was as essential to her life as food. But would there be a pharmacy open to dispense the precious hormone?
Jess returned to where the two women stood. He’d overheard the conversation. “I’ll go down to Cole’s.”
“But what if they’re closed, Jess?”
“Then, Lou, I’ll just go upstairs to where Mr. Cole lives and get him to open up for me.” The pharmacy was four blocks away and since the Carrs had traded there for years, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mr. Cole would provide the needed insulin....if he were around.
“No, I’ll go,” said Althea. “You two stay here and get things ready to throw into the car when I get back.”
“I can drive down for you,” offered the father.
Thea shook her head. “Uh uh. I’ll do it.” She didn’t want either parent exposed to the air any more than necessary.
In the order of importance, Althea knew her mother’s insulin ranked first as she headed the car toward the neighborhood pharmacy. There was no way of knowing how long this relative calmness would remain before all hell tore loose—which was sure to happen soon. Once everybody was convinced that this was genuine, panic and havoc would take over. And she wanted to be well removed from here when that happened; but they had to have the insulin.
Turning left toward the store, Althea looked at the changes that had occurred in the neighborhood, in this once strictly-white area. As it had aged, many of the old homes were claimed by businesses; now residences sat next to commercial structures. And with the aging process had come the lowering of values that allowed her people to move in.
Allowed....she grimaced at the thought. They hadn’t been permitted to live here when it was new. Althea knew all the reasons why. Her education had made her acutely aware of the total black problem, not just what was going on in her community. But her friends had accused her of trying to forget their cause, of trying to forget she was black, when she had moved to San Mirado to teach. San Mirado was almost totally white. But her friends didn’t understand her motivations. They didn’t understand her at all.
Her old Uncle Linc, God rest his soul, had kept a protective mantle around his niece as she grew up. His advice to her was always stern and unending—and always the same. “Thea, never trust a honkey, girl, never trust a honkey.” And he’d been right she’d learned over the years, partially right, anyway. She’d learned her lesson so well, in fact, that she didn’t trust any man— black or white. No, it was men who went to war, men who raped and plundered. In a confrontation, it would never be a case of a woman matching her wits against a man. No, it had to be physical; and for the woman, attractive or not, she’d be the one to lose. Linc was right—there was
no man to be trusted....except for Edward.
Edward? She set the thought of him aside. This was no time to entertain daydreams. Before this was over, before she got her parents and herself to safety, she was going to need her mind well in order. She had no one to rely on but herself, she knew; help would come from no quarter but her own.
Braking the car, she pulled it over to the curb and peered through the side window. Cole’s Drugs still had a light on inside. How long, she wondered, before the older generators gave out and the city would be without electricity? In the darkness of night there’d be hell to pay in this neighborhood.
The store seemed deserted to her. Nobody was visible from where she sat in the car, but the front door of the pharmacy was open, hanging strangely askew on only one hinge. As she looked at it closer she saw the glass had been knocked from the door’s window and lay in small fragments scattered over the sidewalk. Mr. Cole must be there, then, she thought.
Althea grasped her purse firmly and slid out of the seat. Always a creature of habit, the events of the day had shaken her normal routine. As she walked across the short distance to the store’s entrance, the proof of this was left behind—the car keys were dangling from the ignition.
She had only taken one step inside the pharmacy before she stopped. Instinctively she knew that something was terribly awry. The shelves were stripped, their bottles and boxes lay piled in the aisles. Noises behind the high counter were proof that someone was here—but who?
She called out timidly, “Mr. Cole? Are you here?” Then louder, “Mr. Cole....where are you?”
A cold metal tube was suddenly pressed into her neck. A crazy laugh rang out. “Hey man, look what I got here!”
Althea froze with fear. Her intuition and the cold metal told her that this was a gun. She held her breath, afraid that the slightest movement might jar the gun into action. The man’s laugh changed into a giggle as he stepped into sight. He was, she discovered, a youth in his early twenties. He grinned sardonically, his eyes feverish from what could have been illness—but she guessed it to be drugs.
The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) Page 7