Nuclear Winter Whiteout

by Bobby Akart

  “In my opinion, we’ll bottom out about four years or so after that. How well our planet deals with nuclear winter will depend upon several mitigating factors, including the moderating effects of the world’s oceans. The lower latitudes I just described will benefit from the warmer waters coming up from the equatorial regions.”

  “Are you saying we won’t see the worst of this for five years?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?”

  “Consider moving large numbers of Americans to points near the equator or into the southern hemisphere,” she replied before adding, “and pray.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Friday, November 1

  Arkansas Valley Regional Medical Center

  La Junta, Colorado

  Sheriff Mobley had hardly slept the night before. He couldn’t put his finger on why the fate of this traveling family weighed on him so much. He made a point to touch base with his own kids and grandchild before turning in for the night. As he tried to fall asleep, he reminded himself how lucky he was to live in a small, close-knit community that most of the world was unfamiliar with.

  He thought of the amenities and glamour of living near a big city like San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge. Fisherman’s Wharf. The cable cars. As a career law enforcement officer, naturally he’d enjoy visiting famed Alcatraz Island. Yet, today, all of those things were either obliterated or damaged. The people who lived in close proximity to San Francisco Bay perished. And those with the foresight to escape before the blast, like the McDowell family, faced unknown perils regardless.

  He awoke around five and immediately dressed for work. His first stop was the sheriff’s office to coordinate the daily shift change. After an update from his deputies, he was pleased to learn that there hadn’t been any new reports of hypothermia cases as a result of the flash freeze. He attributed it to the time of night it had occurred and the fact most of Otero County’s residents were following his admonitions to remain inside to avoid inhaling the nuclear fallout and the soot-filled air.

  He arrived at the hospital to check on the McDowell family just as his friend, the attending physician, came in for his fourteen-hour shift. He was standing near the emergency room reception desk, speaking with one of three surgeons the hospital had on staff. He saw Sheriff Mobley arrive and waved him over.

  “Shawn, are you here about the McDowells?”

  “Yeah. Just wanna see if there’s been any change,” he replied. He said good morning to the surgeon, Dr. Carl Forrest.

  “Not yet,” replied his friend. “Listen, I’ve been speaking with Dr. Forrest, who is concerned about the dad’s legs.”

  The surgeon furrowed his brow as he addressed the situation. “Shawn, this patient is struggling to fight the effects of hypothermia. His body has been weakened by the frostbite to his lower legs, a condition that is impeding his ability to heal.”

  “I assume you need someone’s consent to perform the procedure,” said the sheriff. “Are we approaching a point of no return in which a decision must be made?”

  “We may actually be past it,” Dr. Forrest responded. “Long-term effects like congenital malformation and cancer are not even my concern at the moment. Infection and circulatory disorders are beginning to manifest themselves. After the patient’s body was raised to a normal temperature, the threat of traumatic gangrene raised additional concerns.”

  “How long can we wait?” asked the sheriff.

  Before the surgeon could respond, a nurse came running toward them. “Doctors! The boy is waking up!”

  All three men hustled down the long corridor and into the intensive care unit at the back of the hospital. It was segregated from the active emergency room so patients could recuperate, yet it was close enough to have access to the trauma team in the event of a medical problem.

  Sheriff Mobley gently grabbed the two physicians by the sleeves to slow their pace. “Guys, let’s not scare the bejesus out of the kid. This young man has some very adult issues to contend with right now.”

  The doctors nodded and caught their breath. They casually walked into Tucker’s room with apprehension. Two nurses were making Tucker comfortable and stepped away from the hospital bed to make way for the group.

  “Doctors,” began the head ICU nurse, “his vitals remain stable although his heart rate is slightly elevated. He’s been able to drink water on his own although he’s complained of a sore throat.”

  The attending physician reached over the bed rail and held Tucker’s hand. “Young man, I’m Dr. Frank Brady. This is Dr. Forrest and Sheriff Mobley. Do you understand where you are?”

  As he spoke, he used his penlight to examine Tucker’s eyes and throat. Then, with his stethoscope, he listened to his heart and lungs. Satisfied with the results, he put the instruments away.

  Tucker pointed toward his throat and swallowed hard. He whispered his response. “Hospital. Colorado.”

  Dr. Forrest stepped in and looked toward one of the nurses. “Let’s get him some ice chips.”

  Dr. Brady continued. “I’m sorry I asked you to speak, but it was important for us to confirm that you are aware of your surroundings and that you can comprehend the information we are about to give you.”

  Tucker’s eyes darted around the room, and he became slightly agitated. He mouthed the words Mom, Dad.

  Dr. Brady held his hand up and smiled. “They’re alive, son. Let us explain. Don’t talk so you can save your strength. Sheriff, would you briefly relay what you and your deputies found.”

  Sheriff Mobley related the discovery of their bodies yesterday and how they’d brought the three of them to the hospital. He stopped short of discussing Tucker’s parents’ medical conditions. Dr. Brady took over from there.

  “You did an excellent job protecting your mother from the cold. She’s still sleeping in the room next door to us. Tucker, hypothermia takes a terrible toll on a body’s organs and brain. It’s been in your best interest, as well as your parents’, that we didn’t wake you unless absolutely necessary.”

  Tucker responded with an imperceptible nod. His eyes began to droop as drowsiness came over him, caused in part by the medications he’d been taking in addition to the trauma his body had endured.

  Sheriff Mobley noticed the two doctors exchange a long glance. He knew what they were thinking. The kid was awake. Do they broadside him with his father’s true condition and then pressure Tucker for an answer on the proposed amputation while he was awake?

  Dr. Forrest spoke up. “Tucker, your father’s condition is much worse because he was partially exposed to the frigid air. The sheriff tells us he made an unbelievable effort to shield himself from a sudden flash freeze that swept over your vehicle as well as your dad. For that reason, we have to monitor him very closely for issues that you and your mom were fortunate to avoid.”

  Tucker comprehended what he was being told, but his eyes studied the faces of the doctors to determine if he was getting the complete story. He pointed toward the white plastic cup of ice chips being held by his nurse. He took a few in his mouth and allowed them to melt. He ate several more over the objection of Dr. Brady, but they seemed to help with the soreness.

  “See him.” Two simple words conveying a request that was not so simple to fulfill. Then he fell asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday, November 1

  Arkansas Valley Regional Medical Center

  La Junta, Colorado

  Tucker slowly sipped the warm chicken broth provided him by the nurses. He was slowly regaining his strength with more rest. He was frustrated with himself for falling asleep before gaining approval to see his dad. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out before the nurses and Dr. Brady had awakened him.

  Now that he was able to speak with only a minor twinge of pain in his throat, he planned on pressuring his doctor to allow him to see his parents. He was thrilled when Dr. Brady didn’t object, although he had no idea there was an ulterior
motive for his acquiescence.

  Tucker was athletic and young. His body had been able to withstand the extreme cold that had encircled him and his mother that night. It had been a rash decision his mom made that almost killed them. Yet he understood why she did it.

  They’d been sitting in the front seat of the Bronco when the first massive wind gust swept over them. Lacey shrieked as the truck shook and then was forced several yards down the highway. Then came another, this time sustained. It inched the truck forward, causing them to wonder if they were on the leading edge of a tornado.

  Both of them frantically assessed their options. His mom wanted to search for Owen. Tucker argued that they should stay in the truck for safety. She became distraught and impulsive as she began to put on every item of clothing within her grasp that she could wear in order to search for her husband.

  Tucker tried to calm his mother, but the flash freeze did that for him. For several moments, neither of them were able to speak, fear stealing their voices. Ice crystals began to form on the windows until soon, they were unable to see outside. Not that it mattered. The blowing snow and ash created whiteout conditions that reduced visibility to zero.

  To Tucker, it appeared that the old truck was contracting. It was if a massive set of icy-cold hands had wrapped their frigid fingers around Black & Blue. It creaked and cracked and allowed the brutal cold inside.

  Then, without warning, Lacey pulled the door handle on the passenger door and flung her shoulder against it. It broke the seal of ice and flew completely open with the assistance of the wind.

  “I have to find your dad,” she said as she swung her body around to exit the truck. She made it three steps before being knocked into the snow-filled ditch adjacent to the highway. Tucker couldn’t get his door open, so he scrambled across the seats to help his mother. He was shocked to see how quickly she’d been affected by the subzero temperatures.

  She was incoherent as he lifted her under her armpits to drag her back to the truck. The two-door Bronco was difficult to climb into on a good day, much less in epic blizzard conditions.

  After a minute of additional exposure to the flash freeze anomaly, Tucker was able to position his mother in the back seat, and then he climbed in next to her. He pulled every available blanket, sleeping bag, and jacket from the cargo compartment and covered them, providing just enough space for the two of them to breathe.

  Then he held his mother. He closed his eyes and concentrated in an attempt to will his body heat into hers. He ignored his own skin burns courtesy of the subzero chill. He could only think of keeping his mom alive. And then he joined his mother as a state of unconsciousness overtook them.

  Now, two days later, he’d recovered enough to sit up. He was doted over by the nursing staff and constantly checked on by the doctors. However, he had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t being told the whole story about his parents’ conditions. He simply had to see for himself.

  With Dr. Brady’s approval and supervision, Tucker was allowed to get out of bed and into a wheelchair. He was wrapped in a wool blanket, and his feet were covered with fuzzy, nonslip-grip socks. When he was ready to roll in his wheelchair, Dr. Brady elected to push his patient from room to room himself.

  “Thank you, Dr. Brady,” said Tucker as they slowly rolled out of his room in the ICU.

  “You’re welcome, young man. You’ve made a remarkable recovery considering what you’ve been through. After we’ve checked on your family, I plan on moving you to a room in another part of the hospital if you can stand on your own two feet. Our generators aren’t capable of operating the elevators in addition to the other loads they’re carrying. Our hospital beds upstairs can only be accessed by more mobile patients or by our strongest orderlies carrying you up the emergency stairwell.”

  “I’d like to stay near my parents,” said Tucker as he wiggled his toes and then stretched his calves by moving his feet.

  “We’ll see,” said the doctor noncommittally. He changed the subject to his mother’s condition. “Medically, your mom is considered to be in a coma. Most people associate coma with a direct brain injury resulting from some form of physical trauma. A stroke can cause a person to lapse into a coma as well.”

  Tucker became uneasy. “A stroke?”

  “No, not in your mom’s case,” Dr. Brady replied. “Each of you sustained a different level of trauma from the flash freeze event. That could’ve been a result of exposure to the elements, age, and physical conditioning. That’s why it’s not surprising that you’ve recovered first.” He stopped to speak to a nurse before continuing.

  “We treat coma patients differently based upon the underlying cause. In your mom’s and dad’s cases, we’ve focused on their respiratory and circulatory systems. We have to keep oxygen and blood flowing to the brain.”

  “Why can’t you wake her up?”

  “The sudden drop in her body’s temperature resulted in her organs being on the verge of shutting down. The consequences of this were reduced blood flow and oxygen supply to the brain. Her brain swelled, and she went into a coma. Leaving her in a comatose state actually aids in her body’s recovery because she’s not exposed to external stimuli or concern for others. She needs as much rest as she can get, and pulling her out before her body is ready can result in permanent damage to the brain tissue.”

  Tucker became suddenly quiet as the doctor stated the facts plainly and succinctly. It was a lot for a fifteen-year-old to process, but he appreciated the candor. Once he was rolled into his mother’s room, he became full of emotion. He raised his right hand, instructing the doctor to stop short of his mother’s bed.

  She looked peaceful yet pained. Her face was completely at rest, but her body remained rigid under the layers of blankets designed to keep her warm. A variety of monitoring equipment flashed numbers and lights that Tucker didn’t want to understand. However, he did know this. His mom was alive.

  After a moment of studying her from a distance, he asked to be wheeled closer. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to hug his mother as he had in the back seat that night in an attempt to keep her warm. A flood of emotions coursed through his mind until suddenly, without warning or permission, Tucker stepped up from the wheelchair using the bed’s side rails to assist him. Dr. Brady and the nurses implored him to sit back down, but he ignored them.

  Tucker leaned over and whispered, “Mom, I love you. It’s gonna be all right. I promise.” Then he gave her a tear-soaked kiss on the cheek.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Friday, November 1

  Arkansas Valley Regional Medical Center

  La Junta, Colorado

  The next visit did not go at all like Tucker had hoped. Convinced to return to his wheelchair, Dr. Brady pushed him farther down the corridor to the ICU room closest to the nurses’ station. Owen, he explained, required very close monitoring at this stage of his treatment. The doctor provided Tucker a similar update to the one he’d given on his mother, with one noticeable exception that Tucker instantly picked up on. Dr. Brady never used the word recovery in connection with his father’s treatment. Phrases like not out of the woods yet and critical condition were used more than once.

  Tucker steadied his nerves as they entered his father’s room. At first glance, he saw the same types of monitoring equipment connected to his father’s body as he’d observed in his mom’s room. Likewise, his dad was wrapped in blankets and seemed to be resting peacefully with his arms by his sides. Then something struck him as out of the ordinary.

  “Why are his feet bandaged up like that and not under the blankets?”

  Dr. Brady sighed. The moment of truth. Mentally, the doctor determined Tucker was ready. His mettle was about to be tested because a decision had to be made.

  The doctor positioned Tucker’s wheelchair so he had a full view of his father lying in bed. He nodded toward the door, indicating to the nurses they should leave the room. They eased out and shut the door behind them. Dr. Brady slid a chair over from a
corner of the room so that he was sitting by Tucker’s side.

  Tucker studied the doctor’s face and scowled. He choked back the tears and sat a little taller in the wheelchair. After another glance at the monitors and his father’s face, he turned slightly and spoke to Dr. Brady. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Young man, I am not going to sugarcoat any of this. You strike me as very mature, and I applaud your parents for raising you to become the man that you are. We have a situation with your dad that requires an adult decision. Today, in this moment, you have to be that adult.”

  Tucker swallowed hard and nodded at Dr. Brady without breaking eye contact. Apprehension supplanted sorrow as he prepared himself for what he was about to hear.

  “Based upon what we learned from the sheriff’s office, your dad was caught completely off guard by this weather anomaly. The flash freeze hit the west end of the county the hardest. From what they could tell, he did his level best to avoid the frigid air by trying to bury himself in hay in the back of a pickup.

  “His efforts kept him alive, but unfortunately, he wasn’t totally covered. The deputy discovered his body because his legs were protruding out from the hay just below the knees. Both extremities suffered fourth-degree severe frostbite.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Tucker.

  “Well, first degree is skin irritation and pain, the level of frostbite you and your mom suffered. Although, there was evidence of second-degree blisters on your mom’s hands but no major damage. Fourth degree, the level suffered by your dad, is indicated when the frostbite is so severe it causes bones and tendons to freeze.”

  Tucker’s eyes grew wide as he immediately looked at his father’s feet. He ran his fingers through his hair and then wiped away the tears that began to seep from his eyes.