by Stu Jones
“Come on.”
He continued pumping the handle and filled the bucket half full before the water started clearing. When it had cleared to his satisfaction, he quit pumping, jumped up, and grabbed the new red plastic mop bucket his dad had brought in. Kane brought it back to the pump and filled it up. The well water had rust flakes in it from the pipe, but he was grateful he had such a wonderful resource. Kane carried the bucket by its handle over to Barney. Using his hands he scooped handful after handful out and let Barney lap it up out of his hands. Kane then drank himself, the cold well water cooling a path down his throat and spreading into his belly. It was bitter and tasted like rust, and he continued to drink until his stomach sloshed with water.
Kane rested a moment as his mind racing for solutions to his next problem: food. He wasn’t hungry right now, but he would be at some point, and he would need food to survive—especially an extended stay in the bunker. The only food he knew he had was a box of emergency energy bars and two fifty-pound bags of dog food.
Well, Barney will be happy, at least.
The ache of his back again reminded him that he would need to tend to his injuries. Kane stood and moved to the new pile of stuff in the entrance area. Waving the light stick over the pile, he took in the new additions. Blankets, a bundle of plastic trash bags, twenty more light sticks, the remaining plastic sheeting, a bundle of old clothing, a six-inch KA-BAR survival knife, a magnesium fire starter, an old military surplus compass, and his dad’s military rucksack. Kane looked to his right and noticed a few more items against the wall. First he noticed his grandfather’s 30-06 M1 Garand rifle from World War II, which his dad had asked him to safeguard. He also found a stash of various batteries, a compact LED flashlight, and thirty rounds of old Lake City military-issue 30-06 ammunition. Kane grabbed two 3-volt batteries and dropped them into the flashlight, testing the blinding light on the wall to his right. He had to be careful not to waste the battery power.
Where was the brand-new first aid kit?
He had put it on the list, and his dad had said that he had put everything on the list in the bunker. Kane moved to the rucksack and opened it. More clothes, including long underwear and a rain jacket. He pushed his hand past them and found the nylon case he had been looking for. Pulling it out, he stuffed the clothing back into the sack and returned to Barney. Having had some basic medical training, he had wanted to buy a deluxe medical kit for a while. Finally, just recently, he had gone ahead and bought it.
Thank God.
He unzipped the nylon pouch and spread the kit open on the floor in front of him. It looked good, and there appeared to be plenty of equipment to work with. Kane clicked the flashlight on. Barney squinted at the light.
“It’s okay, Barn. I’m going to take a look at where you’re hurt.”
Kane shone the flashlight at Barney and was shocked to see how bad the poor animal looked. Covered in blood, with patches of hair completely burned away, he appeared to be in bad shape. Kane shone the light toward Barney’s face and found his right eye to be gone, burned out while he was trapped. Kane reached over and rubbed Barney on his neck.
“Barney, I’m so sorry, buddy.”
Barney turned his head and licked the inside of Kane’s forearm.
Kane smiled. “Your spirit isn’t broken yet, is it? Guess I should take a lesson from you and your good attitude.”
He took a second look at it. He wasn’t going to mess with the eye, as it appeared to be cauterized shut. Kane looked over the small, furry white body. It appeared that most of the blood had come from the eye. He appeared to be okay, other than favoring his front right foot. Kane tried to touch it, but Barney yelped and pulled it away.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get you to sleep before I do anything with that.” He stroked Barney’s head. “You’re a good boy, Barney. Strong in spirit.” Kane smiled again.
Barney continued to lie on his side while Kane wiped his bloody fur with a piece of gauze and some hydrogen peroxide to clean him up. That done, Kane removed three 25mg Benadryl caplets from a small bottle and a 200mg ibuprofen tablet from its container, which he broke in half.
“Sorry I don’t have any serious drugs, man. These will have to do”.
He retrieved a small handful of dog food from the bag and mixed the pills in with it. Barney ate the food mixture gladly.
Kane then removed a small mirror from the kit to aid in looking himself over. He raised it up to his face, and what he saw caught him by surprise. The ghastly, blackened figure in the mirror was not Kane Lorusso but some phantom imposter. Kane stared at himself in the small mirror for what seemed like forever. Most of the hair on his head was burned off, though his eyebrows were intact. Covered in soot, ash, and blood, there was no way for him to tell where we was injured. He’d have to try to clean up a little first.
Kane retrieved some small moist towels from the kit and proceeded to wipe himself down. It was a slow process that made him cuss when he hit a burn or open wound with one of the small towels. After fifteen minutes, he was cleaner, at least.
The worst of it was all the small burns that covered his upper body, as well as several lacerations, the largest of which was a four-inch-long gash across his ribs on the right side. He also had tiny glass shards embedded everywhere from his forehead to the bottoms of his feet. The large burn on the bottom of his right foot from kicking the flaming beam did not look too good either. He hadn’t felt any of it at all during the craziness of the last few hours.
First, he addressed the glass by pulling the small shards with tweezers he found in the kit, dabbing the sites with hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin. He then addressed the large, weeping gash in his side, which he scrubbed with an antibacterial cleanser, gritting his teeth as he worked. With a hiss, he rinsed the wound with a few handfuls of water and let it dry before closing it with butterfly strips.
Picking the mirror up again, Kane reassessed the situation. The burns were the biggest problem, and the fact that they appeared to be partial thickness burns meant there was a high risk of infection. Without antibiotics, infection could easily kill him down in this hole. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, rinsing the burns with water from the bucket before letting them dry. He took several gauze pads and tore them from their sterile packets. Using medical tape, he attached the dry occlusive dressings to the worst burns across the top of his shoulders and let the others air dry. He did the same with the burn on the bottom of his foot. He then popped four ibuprofen and chased them with a handful of water. He then opened a small bottle labeled KI Potassium Iodide. Kane knew that if the blast he had just survived had been radioactive in any way, he would need potassium iodide to keep his thyroid from becoming saturated with radiation. He shook out two small pills and swallowed them as well.
“Nice job, Dr. Lorusso.”
Barney was passed out on the blanket, which did not look like a bad idea at all. First, though, he had to dress the dog’s leg. Barney groaned and shifted but did not wake as Kane wrapped the leg tightly with gauze and medical tape, creating a makeshift cast.
Kane took two more blankets from the shelf and spread them on the floor. He went to the rucksack and retrieved some old, worn Carhartt pants. Stepping out of the torn, burned shorts he had fled the house in, he stepped into the pants and gingerly pulled them up. He decided to go shirtless for a while, for the sake of his burns. Kane lay stomach down on one blanket and draped the other over him. He had never felt so ruined in his whole life, and he feared it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him, one searing inch at a time.
DAY 2
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Bethany Parsons stopped walking and looked over her left shoulder at her boyfriend Dave, who was shuffling along behind her. She used to think he had good style and was a great dancer. Now, as she looked at him through a lens colored by the dissolution of everything she knew, he just looked ridiculous between that swagger and a blue jersey that rea
d PLAYA across his chest. Her knees ached, and she was developing a hotspot on her left heel where her shoes rubbed. She tucked her chin to her chest, stretching her neck, and closed her eyes for a moment.
She was so tired. Bethany and Dave lived together in an apartment in Lawrenceville, Georgia, until the madness had happened. They were forced to flee their burning apartment, half drunk, only hours after a party had ended. It had been terrible having to watch all their stuff burn, but that dissolved into shock at the realization that everything else was on fire, too. The trees, the other buildings, cars, everything burned in the semi-darkness of the early morning.
She’d thought at first that it was just a bad fire, but when the fire department never showed, it began to dawn on her that something much worse was happening. Everyone was trying to flee, packing themselves and their belongings into their half-burnt cars—but then none of the cars would start. Only the old ones, the ones that didn’t rely on computers, and the occasional motorcycle or dirt bike seemed to still function. Planes had fallen out of the sky, cars had driven off the road, and fights had broken out in the dim morning light. There was chaos, screaming, looting, and fire everywhere. It was a nightmare, the stink of smoke and fear still heavy in her nostrils. Bethany and Dave had taken off on foot through the woods to avoid the mass exodus of frightened people.
Bethany glanced up, wiping the stinging ash across her face as it continued to fall in blankets from the dark, ruined sky. She pulled her cracked cell phone from her pocket and turned it on again. It was the only thing she now owned. The cracked LCD screen failed to come to life. She had not been able to reach any family or friends, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her phone or if the service was down. She shook the phone with an irritated gesture.
Dave shuffled up next to her. “Chill out, girl, that ain’t gonna fix it.”
“I know it won’t fix it, Dave!” she fumed. “Would you hurry up, anyway? Pull your pants up and quit shuffling. We need to make it downtown before it gets dark.”
“Why? This is ridiculous. Why are you so bent on going in?”
“Because my family is in Atlanta. Besides…I heard several people say to go into the city because the military was taking in refugees there. What else are we going to do? We don’t even know what has happened!”
“Bethany, we’ve been walking straight since we bailed from the apartment. I mean, have you even seen anything that indicates that there is some kind of relief being organized down here? Seriously? Everyone is dead! Look, there are hardly any buildings standing!”
He turned and pointed at a nearby vehicle, turned on its side. “Do you see that? There’s a dead person in there! And no one is doing anything. There are no emergency workers around. Now, I don’t know where the military is, but they aren’t here.”
“Don’t lecture me like you’re my father, Dave!” she snapped.
“Please, you wouldn’t know what that sounded like anyway.”
The insult stung, twisting with anger and stress to fuel the boiling rage inside her.
“Fuck you, Dave! You’re an ignorant jerk. You do know that, don’t you? I should have broken up with you a year ago when I caught you with Tasha.”
“Ah, here we go again. World War III has happened and you’re bringing this shit up. I bet you’re gonna say everything in the apartment is yours too, huh?”
“Who cares about the damn apartment? It burned up along with everything else, and World War III doesn’t change the fact that you’re a douchebag loser with a moral constitution about as loose as that gaudy chain around your neck.”
Dave held his hands up in front of him. “Whoa, okay, you know what? Fine. You go do whatever the hell it is that you need to do. I’m getting the fuck up out of here,” he said, lowering his hands and turning away. “I don’t know why I came this far with you in the first place.”
“Dave, wait,” she said, a slight pang of loneliness flaring inside her chest.
“No, it’s too late for that. You’re on your own, sweetness.”
The loneliness turned to white-hot rage as it flashed across Bethany’s face. “Then go, you stupid jerk! All you ever do is take. Well, now you can take your ass right on back up the street where you came from. And don’t ever talk to me again!”
Dave must have heard her because he didn’t say a word as he continued walking. Bethany bared her teeth as she watched him shuffle away through the debris and wreckage of the burning vehicles that littered the interstate.
She was alone now. As the gravity of that thought sank into the pit of her stomach, she fought the urge to call out to Dave again. He was a loser, but he was somebody and somebody was better than nobody. She glanced around at the complete devastation. The lifeless, smoldering city looked back with cold indifference. The fires, devastation and half-charred remains stood before her like an otherworldly portal into hell itself.
She wiped at her face again, mixing small tears with the large gray chunks of ash as they landed on her face and hair. She looked for Dave one last time and, no longer seeing him, muttered to herself, “Jerk! He’ll be sorry when I link up with my family and find all the other survivors downtown.”
She believed her own words. Surely it was true. She would find them, and then everything would be alright. The government would be there. Bethany wiped her face one more time and began walking again further into the ravaged city.
In the darkness of the bunker, a repetitive scratching pulled Kane from the tangled clutches of sleep.
“Skritch, skritch,” pause. “Skritch, skritch, skritch.”
Kane opened his eyes, but the dilated lenses of his eyes took in nothing but blackness. The scratching continued.
“Skritch, skritch.”
He must have crashed out for over eight hours. The light sticks were out. Kane felt around in the darkness for his flashlight.
“Skritch, skritch, skritch, skritch, skritch, skritch.”
Picking up the flashlight, he shone it in the area of the scratching. “Barney, what are you doing?”
The small animal stared blankly at him from the corner.
Kane began to move slowly. “Ugh,” he groaned, rubbing at the base of his neck. Getting to his feet, Kane made his way over to the small dog, who was still scratching at the corner of the dark room. When he got closer, Kane noticed that Barney had been scratching at a loose, cracked area of cement in the corner. What had begun as a small chip was now a sizable depression. Instead of scolding, Kane watched, interested in the distraction. The dog dug for another few minutes at the loose concrete before sitting back to admire his work.
“Just had some nervous energy to get out, huh, Barn?”
Barney stood and turned sideways to the hole, cocked his leg, and began to urinate. The urine trickled through the cracks and disappeared down into the earth. Kane’s face slackened into a picture of disbelief.
“Unbelievable,” he said out loud. “You were digging us a latrine.”
Kane marveled at how smart the dog was. Just like anyone else, he did not want to sleep in his own waste, so he had done something about it.
“Amazing, Barney. What would I do without you?”
Barney sat back, licking his lips and yawning as if quite pleased with himself. “My turn,” Kane said taking his place at the urinal. “We’ll have to line this with plastic before making any solid deposits, okay?”
Barney yawned again and gave a leisurely stretch.
Morning business out of the way, Kane moved toward the front of the bunker. While passing by the unopened light sticks, he grabbed one and tore it from the package. After snapping and shaking it, he tossed it onto the floor to his left. Barney hopped along behind him, carefully keeping his casted foot off the ground. Kane broke the seal and unfolded the top of the dog food. Digging his hand in, he grabbed a handful of the greasy food. He emptied the handful on the concrete, and Barney ate it greedily.
“Breakfast is served,” Kane said as he dumped a second handful on the concrete. K
ane dug his hand into the food a third time and pulled it out, studying the nuggets in the dim light. The food smelled like old salmon and had a heavy greasy texture as he moved the kibbles between his fingers. Kane squinted and frowned, but his stomach turned and growled, spurring him on. He emptied the handful of salmon kibble into his mouth and began chewing rapidly while making a disgusted face. Kane finished the mouthful with a disgusted “ouuugghh.” He wiped his mouth.
“Barney, if we get out of here, you’re getting better food,” Kane said, digging his hand into the bag for round two. Barney had no complaints as he gobbled his food down, making small snorting sounds as he inhaled his breakfast. Kane finished the second handful, and although still not pleased with the flavor, he was happy to have something to put in his empty stomach.
Wiping his palm on the leg of his pants, he stood and stepped back toward the center of the room. Kane had no idea what time it was; in fact, he had already discarded his watch for its uselessness. He sat down and picked up the crank radio, spinning the crank for sixty seconds. Barney, having finished his food, rejoined Kane and curled up on his blanket.
“Alright, Barney, let’s see what’s happening outside,” Kane said, looking at his companion. He knew that someone looking in on his conversations with Barney would think that he had lost it already, but dog or not, Barney was his only friend in a situation that had gone bad—and fast. Talking to the animal was therapeutic for Kane and helped to ease some of his loneliness.
He snapped the radio on and was again covered in a wash of static as he adjusted the knob. The NOAA radio had the emergency information channels marked with red triangles. He rolled over the first triangle and heard a frantic, tired young man’s voice.
“I can’t ex…but it…”
Kane moved the knob with fine adjustments, trying to find the sweet spot.
“Got it,” Kane said as the broadcast came through with unusual clarity.
“There’s only a few of us who decided to stay and keep the station up. Everyone else either left or is uh…well, I did not have anyone, so I felt it best to stay here and continue broadcasting to any survivors. Again, my name is Rick Morgan, and I was one of the techs here at the emergency radio substation in Knoxville until yesterday, when everything went down. This station is fortified, and the equipment all still seems to work. I heard that the station had received a grant from the federal government to strengthen it against physical and electromagnetic damage a few years ago. I think that may be why the equipment is working when nothing else is. Some of the other emergency radio control stations received the same funding, but I haven’t been able to raise them.”