Nuclear War Club: Seven high school students are in detention when Nuclear War explodes.Game on, they are on their own.

by Triarii, Colt

  Sarge better appreciate what a fine woman Dr. Liu was, Karen thought.

  David heard muffled laughter through both shut doors, as he lay in bed. He could not sleep, all he could think about was Sarge telling him privately that he was leaving the Army next month officially to “search for missing relatives”.

  But the real reason was that Sarge had confirmed there were concentration camps imprisoning American civilians in West Virginia and Kentucky. Sarge and his men were going to recon the camps, then free the prisoners with two groups. He had tough, seasoned veterans he could trust, top men, extremely well-armed. They even had artillery support that would be extremely effective, if necessary, fired from river barges.

  “We didn’t know who was on which side, and even worse, why,” Sarge said. David would never forget the look in Sarge’s eyes.

  “What can I do to help?” David asked.

  “Nothing, now. I literally have the dream team going with me on this op. I have prior combat service with each man. Two of the men have wives and children in the concentration camp. We might need you to hide a couple of wounded men until they recover,” Sarge said.

  “Sure,” David answered.

  “Can you hide a wounded man without Doron knowing?” Sarge pressed.

  David hesitated. Sarge had told him he would have killed Doron for deserting Ashley in combat, but he understood David’s reasoning. In Sarge’s book once he decided you were dishonorable, he never trusted you again.

  “Yes. Doron will not know,” David said.

  “Good. I hope we do not need you. Be sure you meet my men, and can recognize them. We are visiting other survival groups near you in Tennessee and Mississippi. We may need to coordinate larger combined groups later,” Sarge said

  David thoughts replaying the conversation with Sarge were interrupted by laughter from Karen and Dr. Liu as they role played Sarge’s Sunday visit. They planned late into the night, with all the precision of a military op.

  He smiled as he finally fell asleep. Karen and Ashley, two very attractive, smart, married women, were like bloodhounds searching to find Dr. Liu a suitable husband.

  Sarge may free the concentration camp prisoners, but he would never have a chance against the romantic ambush planned by the women of the Nuclear War Club.

  136.

  “Ready?” David asked, handing her a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Enjoy it. It’s the last cup of the coffee Sarge left,” David said, smiling.

  Karen nodded, grabbed her M16, and combat pack. Every Sunday morning, at dawn, David and Karen would hitch up the horse trailer to the pickup truck, load two horses, and head south.

  Sometimes Karen would turn and weep as she noticed the empty spot where Samuel’s car seat had been. The seat imprints were still there. She wondered what he was doing, and how much he had grown.

  Karen looked at the map on the wall to see where they were going today. Every Sunday, David would mark off areas they had searched for his Mom. Many of the roads were barricaded, and they would ride out on horseback. She marveled how warmly they were welcomed.

  “In Alabama, they either shoot you, or invite you to supper,” David has told her.

  Almost every weekend they were fed by people. David kept three pints of honey, and a basket of eggs, in the trailer as a return gift. He would try to find out if there were any local churches, then ask about his Mom at the service. Churches were the first community organization that operated after the nuclear attack.

  “Don’t forget the medical kit,” Karen reminded him. Liu had packed them a medical bag identical to hers for any emergencies they encountered en route. Doron also said they should have a backup for her kit. Liu kept her radio tuned and broadcasting on their frequency on so Karen and David could call with any treatment questions. On these trips David and Karen would often provide basic first aid.

  Sometimes people would recognize Karen’s voice from the radio. David told her he was always amused when total strangers asked her if she was pregnant yet.

  Karen feared this was a waste of time. How many millions died in unknown locations and were buried by debris or incinerated in unmarked graves, she wondered. But she never discussed this with David. If he was searching, she would, too.

  Today she saw from David’s map they would search the southwest part of Alabama, near Mississippi.

  David saw a man walking rapidly down the road pushing a young girl in a wheelbarrow.

  David pulled in front, stopped, got out of his truck and held his rifle horizontal, not pointing at the man, finger not on the trigger, the post nuke peace sign.

  “We are looking for nearest Hope Board,” David said. The man held his rifle horizontal also, although he seemed very wary of Karen when he saw her grenades.

  “My daughter smashed her teeth. Can you help?” the man asked.

  “We are not Doctors, but we know some first aid,” David answered. He could see now the girl was bleeding from her mouth. It was wrapped in dirty white towels, with blood seeping through.

  “Stop. Wait a minute,” Karen ordered, holding her hand out. She climbed on top of the cab, and scanned for an ambush with her binoculars. Then she jumped down and picked up the first aid kit.

  “OK, come on up,” Karen said.

  “What happened?” David asked.

  “Miriam smashed some teeth when she crashed her bicycle on the sidewalk. I am getting her to the nearest church to see if someone can help.”

  “I don’t know how to treat this, but I can call someone who does,” David said. “Here, sit in the back seat.”

  David took out the radio transceiver. “Dr. Liu, need some advice,” David broadcast.

  “Go ahead,” Dr. Liu immediately responded.

  “Young girl, smashed her mouth. In pain,” David broadcast.

  “Rinse her mouth out with water, be careful she doesn’t swallow any broken teeth, and spit the water out. Report when finished,” Dr. Liu said.

  “Karen, go ahead and mix a 1 cup solution consisting of half Maalox liquid antacid and half of Children’s liquid Benadryl from the medical bag. When David gets her mouth clear, have her swish it in her mouth to coat everything, then spit it out. Do not swallow,” Dr. Liu emphasized.

  Karen had written down what Dr. Liu said and read it back to her so there was no confusion.

  “Swish, then spit out. Do not swallow,” Karen read.

  “Read back confirmed,” Dr. Liu said.

  It took three mouthfuls of water before the all the blood and teeth fragments were spit out. Miriam squeezed her Dad’s hand, she was in obvious, intense pain from the exposed nerves to her teeth.

  “Ready now,” David broadcast.

  “Check to confirm no loose teeth fragments,” Dr. Liu ordered.

  “None,” David said

  “Swish the mixture, then spit out,” Dr. Liu ordered. Karen handed the mixture to Tom who helped Miriam sip it. She swished it, then spit it out. Her father held her hand, and she stopped crying.

  “Does it feel better?” he asked.

  The girl nodded her head, wiping her eyes.

  “Patient stabilized,” Karen reported.

  “Give them the rest of the Maalox and liquid Benadryl and show them how to make the mixture. Apply every 3-4 hours or as needed for pain relief, write ‘Swish, Do not swallow’ on a post it note taped on the containers so they do not forget,” Dr. Liu finished.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Karen said.

  “Out,” said Dr. Liu.

  “My name is Tom, and if I can ever do anything for you, let me know,” he said shaking David’s hand.

  “Where can we take you to?” Karen asked.

  “My wife took the truck and left with our neighbors to trade eggs after Church at Semmes, at the old Dollar General parking lot. It’s just up the road in Highway 98. We stayed behind to guard the farm animals,” he said.

  “Are you with the Government?” Tom asked.

  “No, we settled in Beulah, in north Alabam
a,” David said.

  “Pretty impressive, medical kit and radio,” Tom said.

  “We have a good group. Good people,” David said.

  “I am looking for my Mom. Her name is Lorraine Phelps,” David said.

  Tom was quiet. Many people were looking for relatives. Then he remembered David’s question about the hope boards.

  “I don’t know her, but most people around here stay close to home. And David, yes, they have a Hope Board at the Wilmer First Baptist Church. They also have services on Sunday mornings. Can’t miss it, right on 98, a blue and white sign,” Tom said, pointing west on Highway 98.

  David stopped at the parking lot of what had been the Dollar General, and Tom and Miriam waved goodbye, holding the Maalox and Benadryl in a bag.

  David double checked his list, he had already examined the three hope boards in Semmes. Survivors looking for missing family members had started Hope Boards. They were usually placed in a centrally located public building, frequently Courthouses, Schools, or Churches.

  People filled out paper notebook logs stating who they were, who they were looking for, and the date. Then some Churches started posting all these behind glass windows and maintaining the Boards. People started sliding photos under the door to be posted if no one was there. She saw David fill out logs everywhere he searched for his Mom, and post written notes wrapped in plastic.

  David drove west on Highway 98, as she scanned in front, and behind, with her binoculars. They soon passed Wilmer Park, then saw the First Baptist Church on the left. He looked for a place to park the trailer, and saw a red clay parking spot just past 2nd Street on Highway 98. A small, helpful blue oval sign on the corner noted that the Methodist Church was only a block away. Maybe they could go to both Churches.

  They parked and walked the horses out of the trailer. David put the saddles on, while Karen rubbed their necks and took the reins. He put the honey and eggs into the basket, and walked over to the Church.

  Karen’s mouth watered as he smelled the aroma of breakfast cooking. Many Churches had started cooking pot luck breakfasts before worship services for hungry survivors. Some set up showers and washing machines.

  She saw a wiry, weathered old man sitting on the rusted tailgate of his Ford pickup truck in the Church parking lot. He was armed with two rifles and a shotgun that were leaning against the truck. Most Churches posted armed guards during services after attack day, because criminals and terrorists roamed at will while governments were slowly reforming. Most worshippers in the services were also armed.

  “Welcome!” he said as he extended his right hand.

  “We are glad you young folks are here. My name is Jim Wilkins.”

  “Thank you sir. I am David Phelps and this is my wife, Karen Phelps,” David said, shaking his hand.

  Karen realized America was being slowly rebuilt with each handshake between strangers, and every step towards community security. Jim took the reins and tied up the horses next to his truck. They had a water trough already set up.

  “You could help us out by going to the fellowship hall and eat all the food God has blessed us with. We have more than enough. Afterward we have services in the sanctuary. You don’t have to stay for services just to eat, but do come eat,” Jim said.

  Jim’s enthusiasm was infectious. Karen was surprised how many people were present. Usually Churches had at most twelve to fifteen people after the attack. There were at least thirty eating in tables lined against all the walls. David handed Jim the honey and eggs.

  As soon as they sat down, heavy duty styrofoam plates heaping with scrambled eggs, grits, hash browns, and whole wheat biscuits were set before them.

  Karen could not believe they had biscuits! Then they brought them one pat of butter each on a small plate.

  Real butter! She had not had real butter since Attack Day. She shut her eyes, and chewed slowly, savoring the taste of the butter melting on the biscuits. She had been craving fats recently, dreaming about them.

  In a few minutes, Jim rang a bell set up at the door. Everyone became quiet and turned.

  “This young couple is David Phelps, and his wife Rachael,” Jim said. “I mean Karen,” he said quickly.

  “Sorry,” Jim explained. “Rachael was my daughter’s name.”

  It was quiet for a couple of seconds, Karen noticed people awkwardly looking away.

  “Racheal was in Mobile with his granddaughters when the nukes hit,” a woman whispered to Karen.

  “Where are you from?” asked a lady working in the industrial, food service size, kitchen. It seemed to Karen everyone was trying to change the subject.

  “We came to Alabama from California. Now we live upstate in Beulah, ” David said.

  “I am here looking for my Mother, or anyone who knows where she is now. She lived in Mobile and was selling our house before she was to join my Dad and me in California at the Air Force Base,” David explained to everyone.

  “Her name is Lorraine Phelps,” David said.

  Karen sensed instantly that something was wrong. They had not even shown David the Hope Board yet, but there was a collective, stunned silence, an instant sobering from the festive mood of the congregation. It was like a light had switched off. David seemed confused, bewildered, he stopped talking, staring blankly at the crowd.

  An elderly man with a full head of gray hair, jumped up, grabbed David’s elbow, and placed his hand behind Jim’s back. This man held out his hand to David and said, “ I am Foster Mills. I was a Deacon before the attack. Since our Pastor died, I am helping out. We may have information on your Mother, so David and Karen, let’s go into the Pastor’s office.”

  Karen grabbed David’s hand, and turned so he would not see her tears. She knew this was not going to be good news. They walked in absolute silence through the fellowship hall.

  When they reached the Pastors study, no one sat down. Foster said, “Son, there was a woman named Lorraine. What did your Mother look like?”

  David described his Mom quickly. Jim and Foster glanced at each other.

  “The Lorraine we knew could be your Mother, from your description.”

  “I say could be, we don’t know for sure.”

  “What happened?” David asked.

  “Terrorists fleeing from the Mobile hot zone started beheading and raping their way north. Lorraine had organized relief efforts at the park. She organized the hospital and the food,” Foster said.

  David slumped, and sat down in the overstuffed chair. Karen knew that sounded like his Mom.

  “The terrorists were moving West, to the Mississippi line, and a group of Patriot volunteers from Texas, Mississippi and Alabama were waiting for them here at the Battle of Wilmer. The terrorists broke into the hospital, killed a dozen guards, and kidnapped four women, using them as human shields,” Foster said slowly.

  “The Patriots would not shoot because of the women hostages. Lorraine grabbed her M16, and charged the terrorists. By herself. The Patriots then opened fire, charged, and wiped out all the terrorists.”

  “Lorraine was shot and killed by a terrorist,” Foster said quietly.

  “Three of the four women hostages survived.”

  Karen realized that she had always known his Mom was dead. But like Zeke looking for Monique and LeShawn, David had to know for sure.

  “David,” said Jim. David looked up, as he continued.

  “It was recorded on a cellphone video,” Jim paused.

  “We have but I would recommend you not watch it,” Jim said.

  “Maybe your wife could look at it to be sure it was your Mom,” Foster suggested.

  “My Mom never made it to California to meet Karen,” David said.

  “Let me see it.”

  Foster and Jim needed help hooking up the batteries from the solar charger into the inverter for the desktop computer. One of the kids at the church had been able to assemble the computer from burned out components to play video games. Karen inserted the flash drive, and the video appear
ed.

  The video was thirty six seconds long. It started with both sides spread out on opposite sides of Highway 98. Suddenly there was screaming, then the cellphone is knocked over on the top of a pickup truck. The rest of the video was sideways on the screen.

  The terrorists used the women as shields as the Patriots held their fire. David, Foster, and Jim were turning their heads sideways to watch the video until Karen tilted the screen.

  Karen saw the look of despair when David recognized his Mom. He turned his head, bit his lip, wiped his eyes, then looked back at the screen.

  David’s Mom sprang from the ditch with the M-16 they had kept at home, and charged the terrorists screaming indistinct words about no hostages. The women began to struggle for their lives, recognizing this was their only chance.

  Lorraine shot two terrorists in the chest. Her arm swung to shoot the third terrorist, when her elbow shattered, and exploded from a direct hit. Her lower right arm fell to the ground, still gripping her M-16. Two more splotches of red burst from her chest, as the bullet impact knocked her sideways before she hit the ground. Blood gushed out of her arm.

  All of the Patriots attacked, and the video ended with two of the human shields running to Lorraine.

  The video ended. No one said anything for several moments.

  “I know, now,” David said, slowly.

  “ And that means a lot.”

  “Your Mom also left a Bible.”

  “They found it in her backpack,” Foster said. “It’s by the Hope Board.”

  David looked up.

  “Let me go get it, you just stay here,” Jim said.

  “Thank you,” Karen said.

  No one said anything. Jim quickly came back with a worn, brown, leather Bible with “Lorraine Phelps” on the front in gold letters.

  There was a folded church bulletin dated the Sunday before attack day stuffed in Psalms with a handwritten prayer list.

  “That’s Mom’s handwriting ,” David said.

  David read the list and handed it to Karen. The margin had 6 entries: “Prayer list: Steve and his officers and men, David’s football position & calculus class, David’s future wife, sell the house, pay off credit cards.”