“OK. Then come and put on a suit.”
David darted down to the spare room and put on a bright white hazmat suit, leaving only a hole where their faces poked through.
“We’ll be seen from a mile away wearing these,” he said, staring his neon white sleeves. “Didn’t they have black ones?”
“Honestly, it wasn’t high on my priority list when I ordered them,” Kelly replied. “Just be glad I didn’t order the bright yellow ones.”
“We’re gonna have to change these often,” David said. “Stuff spares in the backpack. And get the guns and ammo.”
“Guns are already in the living room.”
“Good. Now grab anything useful.”
Kelly and David rushed from room to room looking for anything which could be useful when preparing to leave the relative safety of their home.
“Do you think we’ve got everything?” Kelly asked.
“I dunno, I dunno,” David responded, nervously. “But we need to figure out where we’re going.”
Dressed as white as snow, the two ran down the hallway and toward the kitchen, where they came face to face with Steve, armed with a kitchen clever. All three of them yelped in surprise.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” Steve shouted.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kelly yelled back.
Steve looked at the two, dressed in white hazmat suits. A couple of seconds passed as they all looked at each other.
“You said you had meat!” said Steve, now confused.
“...What?!” David replied, shaking his head and screwing up his face in confusion.
“A stag. One of you messaged that you’d caught a stag.”
Kelly looked at David, whose forehead was furrowed in confusion.
“I told you to stay inside!” David snapped back.
Now it was Steve’s turn to be confused.
“Guys. What the hell's going on?” he said.
No one spoke for a moment. Kelly knew she had to say something.
“Steve. The birds. The dark photos. You said you tasted metal. We've figured it out. It’s radiation. It’s got to be. The nuclear plant must be melting down.”
“North Anna?”
“It has to be.”
“But that’s, what, a hundred and twenty miles away.”
“The wind is blowing down this way.”
Steve paused, taking it all in.
“My God. Are... Are we in danger?”
“We don’t know,” David answered. “My Geiger counter doesn’t work. Kel and I are getting the fuck outta here.”
“Jesus Christ.” Steve looked around the room, shock being replaced by fear. “Where are you gonna go?”
“We don’t know. We were going to plot a course right now.”
“You’re going in the daylight?”
“I guess so. We have no choice. We’re gonna take our bikes now as I don't think we can’t ride at night.”
“Go home, Steve,” Kelly said. “Go look after your family.”
“And stay inside, no matter what,” David added. “Don’t drink any water. Seal up your doors and windows. Go and shower and throw away the clothes you’re wearing.”
David remembered something.
“Steve. Hang on.”
David rushed down the hall and into the spare room, grabbing boxes of iodine tablets.
“Take one a day. Everyone in your house takes one a day, got it?”
Steve nodded, then paused, unsure of what to do next. It was all too much to take in.
“Go!” David ordered. “I’ll signal you when I know where we’re going.”
Steve turned around, intending to leave.
“Wait,” Kelly said. She stepped toward Steve and hugged him. David stepped in and hugged them both, the three of them embracing in the cold, silent kitchen. It might be the last time they ever saw each other again.
Chapter twelve
Flee
Kelly studied the map intently, using a ruler and a pen to draw lines, while David spoke to Steve via their improvised communication system.
“We can’t go inland; too many crazies. And it’s too dangerous to go north. Can’t go south either as we’d be in the path of the fallout,” Kelly said.
It was the first time David had heard the word ‘fallout’ used outside of a documentary, computer game or band name.
“It’s gonna take two or three days. That’s two or three days’ exposure if the wind keeps blowing this way,” she added.
“Where are we going?”
She paused. This was the first time she’d slowed down in an hour.
“You’re not gonna like it,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“Well, I’ve looked everywhere, and our safest route is east.”
“OK. How far?”
Kelly looked up at him and they met each other’s gaze.
“All the way.”
“To the sea?” David asked, his eyes widening.
Kelly nodded.
“Fuck me. How far is that?”
Kelly read out her notes.
“I reckon we’ve got to ride our bikes about a hundred miles. After that, we take creeks and rivers for another hundred or so.”
David stared at Kelly blankly.
“It’s too far. We’ll never make it.”
“It’s far, but it’s the only way out of the path of the fallout with the winds blowing this way.”
“Two hundred miles?!”
“Do you have a better idea?” Kelly asked.
They stared at each other, before David turned around and looked at the button in front of him. He messaged the word “W… A… I… T…” to Steve and, disheartened, slumped down to the floor.
“We’ll never make it,” David said, a voice coming from the kitchen floor. “We can't carry that much food or water, and even if we did, someone will kill us both.”
“I don’t have any other alternative.”
“What if we stayed here? Maybe the radiation’s not that strong?” David asked, knowing full well that it can’t be safe if it’s affecting camera film.
Kelly paused.
“David. Maybe it was just a one-off caused by the wind, but maybe it's not. I mean, if it’s affecting film, and if Steve could taste it, then it might already be too late.”
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both aware that they could be being irradiated in their own home at that instant.
David climbed to his feet and leaned towards the push button on the kitchen counter, pressing it a few times. The light illuminated almost immediately afterward. David began pressing the button, pulsing it slowly with his index finger.
“G… O… I… N… G… T… O… S… E… A…”
About a minute passed before the light came back on solidly, meaning Steve and Maureen had received the message. They could only imagine the fear in that household right now. It took another minute before a response appeared in their kitchen, letter by letter.
“G… O… D… S… P… E… E… D…”
David brought their bicycles into the house and loaded them up with as much gear as they could hold. They’d taken iodine tablets to protect their thyroid glands, but had no idea if it was pointless or not. David was anxious, wanting to get out of the house right away, but it was Kelly who suggested they wait until it got dark, considering their paper-white overalls. It made sense, even though it meant gamma radiation could already be altering their DNA and sending them to early graves. Kelly didn’t mention it to David, but she hoped that, if they did die, someone would find her negatives and journal, and would write a book about their experiences; their triumphs and tragedies, their love and loss.
At around 6 PM, with their hazmat overalls and gas masks, they closed the door to their house, leaving it unlocked, and pushed off down the street. With their stomachs full of water, peanut butter and dried fruit to offer hydration and calories, they were now at the mercy of whatever lay ahead.
Riding quickly through
the suburbs, avoiding the dark metal boxes in their way which appeared to be vehicles, they headed southeast towards Rustburg. Using nothing but the light of the stars, they were going to try and travel the ten hour bike ride through the night, as impossible as it seemed. It would only take one problem to throw their plan into chaos, and it was inevitable that, on such a journey, problems would be abundant. David wanted to save two miles by riding on the highway northeast through Lynchburg, with the flatter, smoother roads also saving half an hour of travel time, but Kelly advised it was probably safer to take the side roads instead. Yes, it would take longer and the roads would be twistier, but they wouldn’t have to ride through a gridlocked ‘ghost highway’, full of vandalized cars, broken glass and the threat of desperate, armed people.
It was two full hours by the time they’d joined up to Richmond Highway, having traveled just twenty meager miles. Their masks constantly fogged up and they were already exhausted, but at least the highway was smoother and their journey from here on was more downhill than up; dropping down around six hundred feet in altitude to get to their destination: a river, named Deep Creek. Once on the highway they were thankfully able to ease the exertion of their riding a little, moving at a slower pace, using the oncoming lane, which was almost empty of cars.
For a brief moment, near the unusually named township of Farmville, David and Kelly felt like they might actually make it to the river in one night. The burning pain in their legs had morphed into a manageable, chronic ache, and they were now beyond halfway to their destination. The combination of exhaustion and a brief flirtation with the thought of potential success spurred David to take off his mask and breathe in the icy nighttime air, if just for a moment. After all, he thought, it’s like smoking one cigarette: it might harm you, but it won’t kill you. Kelly saw David breathing the crisp, potentially poisoned air and felt immediate jealousy. She wanted to tell him to put the mask back on, but realized such a demand would be more to quell her sense of envy than to protect David’s health. She gave in and removed her own mask, joining him in his guilty pleasure.
“God, the air feels so good. So clean,” Kelly said, immediately aware that it probably wasn’t.
It was also good to be able to finally talk to one another.
“It’s good to actually see again,” David said, following the dark path in front of him, the night sky forming a stunning ceiling of black velvet and glitter.
It was almost beautiful.
Their riding had slowed as they took in the scene above them, David’s head aimed skywards, as he rode straight into an abandoned car.
“David!” Kelly cried out as David tumbled onto the road, wheezing in pain.
He didn’t wear a helmet; there was no way to do so while wearing the suit and mask. Kelly dropped her bike to the ground and ran to him, her legs feeling like jelly.
“Are you OK?” she asked, as all people do when they don’t know what else to say to someone who's hurt themselves. David crawled around on the ground, wheezing, wincing in pain.
“David,” Kelly said, holding him.
Unexpectedly, he started crying. It was a strange sight for Kelly to observe; the silhouette of her husband, sobbing. It was also strange to hear the sound of crying in David’s voice because he so rarely cried, like most men. It became clear to Kelly that David was hurt, but more emotionally than physically.
“Let it out,” Kelly whispered to him, his body shaking with tears. She reached over and brushed his cheek with her hand.
“We’ll be OK,” she added. “I love you... And we’re a team.”
She wanted to ask if he was hurt badly, aware of the noise they’d generated over the last two minutes, but chose to let him get whatever burden he was carrying out of his system. In the minute that followed, Kelly wondered why he’d started to cry now, of all times. Was it his pride which had taken a hit? It’s odd, she thought, because he seemed happy at the time of the accident. Perhaps it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Crying’s healthy, she thought. Why didn’t David do it more often. She even wondered if that was why men died sooner than women, or why they killed themselves more, or why they were more violent than women. The solution was simple, she thought. Tears. They wash away the pain in one’s heart, even though they were socially unacceptable, at least for men.
David calmed down, his emotional outburst causing him to feel embarrassed. As he often did, David employed humor as defense mechanism.
“I didn’t get his license plate.”
Kelly let out a gentle laugh.
“Are you hurt?”
David reached up and rubbed his scalp.
“I hit my head… On the car's hood.”
Kelly ran her fingers through his hair and felt for any blood or damage. There was a sizable bump, but his head was dry.
“I think,” David said, pausing. “I think my ego took the biggest hit.”
“It’s alright, babe,” Kelly replied, softly.
She paused, before saying something that would cause David to be embarrassed again.
“I never see you cry.”
David looked down. Talking about his emotions, for most males, caused him to retreat into his shell or divert the conversation with humor.
“Can you still ride? Is your bike OK?” Kelly asked.
David ran his fingers over the bike, feeling the tautness of the chain. He squeezed both tires with his fingers to ensure they still had air in them, and briefly spun the wheels.
“Shit,” he said.
The front wheel was bent.
“Is it bad?” Kelly asked.
“The front wheel is buckled. It still has air and it spins, but it’s curved to the side.”
She didn’t ask the obvious question, whether or not he could still ride it. That would become apparent soon enough. David spun the front wheel again, its rim audibly rubbing against the brakes each time it turned.
“If it still rides, I gotta remove the front brakes. If I don’t, everyone will hear me,” he said, reaching over to open the bike repair kit in a zipped pouch under the bike’s seat.
He took out a bunch of hex keys and felt in the dark for the socket which would allow him to unscrew the braking caliper mechanism. He fumbled for about thirty seconds, unsuccessfully.
“I can’t find the damn hole.”
“That's a first for you,” Kelly joked, her turn to employ humor to lighten the mood.
It worked, causing David to chuckle quietly in the starlight, the frame of a cold bicycle on his lap.
“Got it,” he announced, turning the key a dozen or so times, followed by the sound of a small nut hitting the highway asphalt. He reached into his bag to find the roll of duct tape they’d brought with them, tearing off a piece which he used to hold the brake caliper out of the way of the wheel’s spokes.
“We should try moving,” David announced.
“Hang on. Not yet.”
Kelly crawled closer to David and turned around, leaning up against the abandoned car which had offered them both pain and an unexpected moment of bonding.
“I love you,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“You know I love you too, babe” David answered. “You’re my everything.”
Their breathing calmed and the night sky above them glistened as they drank water and scooped out the remaining peanut butter from the plastic jar with their fingers.
Kelly couldn’t quite see how badly David’s bike was damaged, but it was evident by his pale white silhouette wobbling rhythmically that it was not an enjoyable experience for him. If they weren’t fleeing for their lives, it would be a hilarious sight. Unfortunately this damage had slowed their progress to a jogging pace. They had their masks back on, and had changed into new hazmats suits.
“This is fucking impossible,” David whispered to Kelly, riding behind him.
With David unable to move quickly, it was better for him to be in front.
“Just take your time,” Kelly whispered back in a muffled voic
e, aware that they were falling behind schedule, and sunrise was just a few hours away.
Providing they even made it to the river, Kelly was also justifiably concerned about what they’d do when they eventually got there. They couldn’t wade or swim through the freezing water. They’d have to float, somehow, on something.
This worry shifted to the forefront of Kelly’s mind, when the horizon in front of them began to glow gently, the sun burning its way towards them from somewhere over the Atlantic. The clear sky of the night had also begun to be replaced with clouds. Kelly was becoming concerned that they should have been at the river by now, but still had an unknown distance to travel ahead of them.
“Hang on,” Kelly called to David.
The two of them came to a halt on the tree-lined country road that had replaced the highway. A road sign was just ahead.
David removed his mask, the cold, possibly poisoned air filling his lungs. God, it felt good to breath again though, he thought.
Kelly unzipped the front of her white suit and reached inside, removing the crumpled map of Virginia and turning it towards the horizon. It was still too dark to see the map clearly.
“I need to see where we are. It’s getting light and we’re gonna have to hide.”
David realized that this meant they weren’t going to make it to the river today. They’d have to be irradiated with gamma rays for another day. Was the pain in David’s head caused by the accident some hours earlier, or was it cancer growing in his brain, he wondered.
Kelly looked around, checking the tree-lined road ahead and the bushes on either side, before holding up a cigarette lighter to the map and clicking a tiny flame into life. There wasn’t much gas left in it.
“OK, it's not bad. That town ahead has to be Crewe,” she said, her eyes just inches from the tattered wad of paper in her hand. “We should go around it to the east. The river has to be just the other side; maybe another couple of miles.”
“But it’s getting light. And we’re in white. It'd be suicide. Should we hide here in the bushes or do you really think we'll make it before sun up?” asked an exhausted David.
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