Shelter

by C A Bird

  The mile to town took forever, his ankle getting much worse as he progressed. His arm was throbbing painfully. Eagle Nest, not much more than a truck stop in these mountains, was deserted. He passed a diner that said “Open 24 Hours” but obviously, it wasn’t. He came to a bait and tackle shop and realized he had come too far. A sign on the other side of the street indicated that he needed to backtrack and go right, or north, toward Red River. He almost cried at the realization. It was past 10:30 p.m. when he finally passed through town and continued up the road. Around a quarter of a mile beyond Eagle Nest he saw headlights appear and instinctively started to hide, but realized he was sick to death of running and hiding. He just stood in the center of the road until the headlights of the approaching car illuminated him.

  The car slowed and came to a halt. Aaron muttered under his breath, “I’m a dead man,” as a figure approached him through the glare. It was an old man.

  “What’re you doing out here this time of night, son? You look half dead. Can we give you a lift?”

  Aaron couldn’t believe his ears. He stumbled forward, the old man catching his outstretched right arm. “Please help me,” he pleaded in a rough voice that the old man had trouble hearing. “I’m hurt and I need to get up this road.” The old man helped him back to the car where Aaron saw that an elderly woman accompanied him. They helped him into the car.

  “Don’t you know what’s happened? The United States has been attacked.” Aaron told them.

  “Yep, we heard it on the radio, before they all went dead. We live in a cabin a couple miles up the highway. We don’t have anywhere to go so we’ll just stay put. I’ve been living in this town all my life. Hell, I was just a boy but I lived here when the name was “Therma” back before they named it Eagle Nest. We’re going to town to see if Jake Perkins wants to come back with us. He runs the diner and lives alone. Couldn’t sleep since we saw the bombs this afternoon. Where you going looking like that?”

  “There’s a bomb shelter north of here. I was trying to get there but ran into trouble. You could go with me. I know how to get there but we have to go before the radiation gets here. The wind is blowing toward the south but there might already be some in this area. Besides, I just came from the diner and it’s closed down.” He looked at them hopefully.

  “If the road’s open to your shelter we’ll take you there but we’ve lived here a long time and I don’t know of any shelter around these parts.” The old woman was nodding her head in agreement. The old man turned the car around and headed back up the hill and Aaron gratefully sunk back on the seat.

  A short ride later he spotted the ad. It had a big arrow pointing to the left and said you should head straight for the cowboy’s brand of tobacco. “There”, he said excitedly. “That’s the ad!”

  The old man swung the car onto a narrow, poorly maintained, dirt road through a metal gate. “You sure this is the place?” asked the old man, skeptically.

  “I hope to God it is,” replied Aaron.

  After a short distance the road improved, and they continued on for a couple of miles until suddenly they came across a downed tree that totally blocked the road. There was a group of cars lined up behind it that made further progress impossible but no one was around. The old man got out and looked to see if he could get around the blockade but there was no way, the trees growing too close together on either side. “Well, that’s it son. You can go back with us if you like.”

  Aaron crawled stiffly out of the car. “No, I have to go on. It can’t be far and I’ve been trying so hard to get there.”

  The old woman spoke for the first time, “You can’t go off in the dark like that. Come back with us ‘till you feel better.”

  Aaron was touched. He knew she was afraid of him. “No, I have to go. Thank you so much for helping me. You’re the only ones who have. He grasped the old man’s shoulder briefly and started off into the night. Being too sick to crawl over it, he circumvented the downed tree by going through the trees on the left. He saw the car backing down the road and almost called to them, suddenly lonelier than he had ever been in his entire life.

  This morning he was a competent, respected surgeon in a modern world. Tonight he was a hurt, dirty, lonely man in the wildest of wilderness areas, stumbling through a pitch dark forest, not even sure if there really was a shelter at the end of this interminable road.

  He was barely moving now, almost falling with every step. His shoulder ached from the blow he’d taken and his broken arm sent stabbing pains up his left side. Just put one foot in front of the other, keep moving, he thought. He was running a fever and dragging his right foot with every step. Although the dirt road was fairly smooth, it had an uphill grade that was inexorably wearing him down, slowing his pace until he barely moved forward. Onward through the darkness, he moved in a trance, unable to see where he was headed, frightened by phantoms, branches blowing in the frigid wind on both sides. He worried he may already be dead, was in a hell he never expected to end up in. He had tried so hard to be a good man.

  He jumped as a shape loomed up in front of him, instinctively throwing his good arm in front of his face for protection. The shape didn’t move. Reaching out with his good hand he approached the looming shape. It was a car.

  Excited, he starting yelling, his voice weak and raspy, “Hello, is anybody here? Please, someone answer me!” He stood swaying in the middle of the clearing, convinced he had been pushed over the edge and had gone insane.

  The rocks were talking to him.

  A sudden, brilliant light blinded his dark-adapted eyes and a spaceman came to apprehend him. He chuckled, and gave up his tenuous attachment to consciousness as he pitched forward, the spaceman catching him and cushioning his fall. He was vaguely aware of a second spaceman, and the two carrying him toward the light. The movement caused him to be violently sick. Afterward, someone bathed his forehead with a cool rag, hurting his goose bump, but he was beyond caring. He saw an outline of big, smiling man who called himself Doctor Jim, and he remembered no more.

  PART TWO

  "And From the Ashes…"

  FIVE

  August 22, 5:00 a.m.

  Dimly lit corridors lent the shelter a surrealistic appearance as Mark wandered around in search of the main dining room. Following directions posted on the wall, he walked down a quiet, empty hallway, and rounded a corner just in time to catch a glimpse of Will entering a doorway up ahead. They shared breakfast together that first morning of their new lives, lives forever altered by cataclysmic events beyond their control.

  Mark had spent a restless night; worrying about his sister, her husband, his niece and nephew, and friends he knew he would never see again. He hadn’t even bothered to examine his quarters; just went in, threw himself on the bed and worried away the remainder of the night. He was overcome with guilt as he reasoned, quite logically, that if Jill and her family had somehow managed to leave Dallas and had arrived in Albuquerque - he’d ordered them to their deaths. There was no way for him to know for sure whether or not Dallas had been a target, but it was indisputable that Albuquerque was. Before leaving his quarters for breakfast he had used the intercom to contact Micah and heard the heartbreaking news that they had never arrived.

  The two men finished a simple meal of prepackaged, microwavable eggs and potatoes while discussing the incredible events of the previous day. Then, curious about the number of people who’d arrived during the night, they headed for the infirmary, knowing each individual had passed that portal on the way in. They entered an examining room to find Doctor Jim sitting on a stool, scribbling entries into a medical chart. He looked exhausted, having spent most of the night examining and treating people as they’d arrived at the shelter. Mark noticed a four- footed cane leaning against the wall in the corner.

  “Good morning, Doctor. Do you have a few minutes?” Will asked.

  The doctor stood and turned weary eyes toward them. “Call me Jim, please. Sure, come on in.”

  “Don’t ge
t up… Jim. You really look tired. Did you get any sleep?” Will asked him as he sat on a chair, while Mark crossed to the examining table and drew himself up on the edge.

  “Yeah, I slept a couple of hours. We had a steady stream of people arriving until around two this morning. Many were injured, and those arriving after midnight received varying amounts of radiation as well. Ninety three people arrived after the bomb blasts started, most of them in the late afternoon.” He shook his head, and then laughed, “A college professor with a van full of kids drove all the way from El Paso. He must have driven like a bat out of hell. Anyway, they passed through Albuquerque only an hour before the first explosions and one of his students says the bomb picked them up by the ass and wheel-barrowed them all the way up the mountain.”

  Mark smiled, visualizing the situation the boys and their professor had found themselves in and he was thankful they had managed to squeak through. “Do you have any help, Jim?” he asked the doctor. “Have any other medical personnel arrived?”

  “I brought my nurse Carmen with me and there’s a pharmacist, actually a biochemist, who worked for Pfizer Pharmaceutical Company. Another young man arrived during the night but he’s in pretty bad shape. He only briefly regained consciousness, but says he’s a doctor from Albuquerque. Guess he had trouble getting through. He started late and was slowed down, and even attacked, by mobs of people trying to evacuate the city. Somebody took his car from him and it appears he was in some sort of an accident. God, it must be hell out there.” Jim, sitting on his stool, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, rubbing them with balled up fists. His clothes were rumpled and looked as though he’d slept in them, which, Mark realized, he probably had.

  “Do you think he’ll recover?” Mark asked.

  “I think he’ll be fine. I need to operate on his arm, do an open reduction, as soon as the swelling subsides. He’ll be out of commission for a while though. You know, it’s really difficult to comprehend what’s happened out there. You sit around for years knowing nuclear warfare is a possibility, but you never really believe it’ll happen. Tell me Hargraves, how did you happen to pick me? Or any of us for that matter.”

  “Well, it was a difficult selection process, believe me. I needed certain critical occupations; medicine was obviously one, and communications experts, scientists, teachers, craftsmen and the like. Proximity to the site was another major factor. Most of those receiving boxes lived in New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado, with a few from California. But that was a long shot. I called many of my friends and co-workers in California, but I don’t believe any of them made it.

  “You’re a family practice physician, well known for keeping your knowledge and skills up to date, and you live in New Mexico. You also have a reputation for working hard and that will be a considerable asset around here in the coming months.”

  Jim chuckled, “Yeah, and I’m divorced. Not like I’m going to be spreading my genes around at my age, though.”

  Will grinned and stood up, “In a closed environment like this you never know what will happen. Right now though, you need to get some rest. We’re going to be relying on you to be clear-headed and to help lead these people. Most of them are above average intelligence but they’ve had a terrible shock. There’s no telling how they’ll react when the reality of what’s happened sinks in and they realize the world as they knew it is gone forever. Someone else, your nurse maybe, can monitor things and call you if there’s anything obviously wrong. What’s the extent of the other doctor’s injuries?”

  “Well, there’s his broken arm where someone hit him with a very heavy object, and his right shoulder is one massive bruise. He has a nasty bump on his forehead, and probably a concussion, and he’s covered with cuts and abrasions. His right ankle is sprained and badly swollen. He’s lucky he made it here at all, but I believe he’ll fully recover. He says he was on your list; uh, Aaron Brown?”

  “Oh yes, I know who he is, a surgical resident, third year, I think. Go to bed and I’ll look him up later. There’s an alarm on your control console if you want to attend the 9:00 a.m. meeting. Otherwise, I can fill you in later.”

  The Doctor nodded, “Okay, see you later then.” He opened the door and held it for them.

  “It looks like Jim Wiggins was a wise choice.” Mark commented to Will after they had exited the room and started down the hallway. “He’s already assumed a tremendous amount of responsibility without being told to.”

  “Yes, he was one of the first people on my list.” Will told him.

  They separated, with Mark heading to the communications center to check on things prior to attending the morning meeting, and Will going to his room to prepare to face the survivors. Mark told Micah to go to bed. Although the young man seemed to have almost unlimited energy he was beginning to show the effects of pulling an all night shift following the longest day of any of their lives. Dark circles smudged the underside of his eyes. He pointed to the third man in the room, “Hey Mark, this is James Bascomb, another electronics guy.” Mark shook hands with the tall, distinguished looking African-American.

  “Nice to meet you. How’s everything look?”

  Bascomb was examining the equipment readings. “There’s been no word from the outside and no refugees since about 2:00 a.m. this morning.” He waved at Micah as he left the room. “Take a look at that radiation reading.” James told him.

  “Whew, it’s completely through the red zone.” Mark shook his head as the significance of the digital readout sank in. “No one else is going to make it through that.” He finally accepted the reality that he would never see his sister or her family again.

  Mark and James engaged in small talk for another few minutes and then, suddenly needing to be alone, Mark left the tower. Sickened, he paused in the alcove below the control room as emotion overwhelmed him. Leaning back against the wall, he slid down to sit on the floor and buried his head in his arms, where he remained for fifteen minutes more, trying to regain his composure, until he could trust himself to enter the elevator.

  Mark arrived at the auditorium shortly before 9:00 a.m., joining a few other stragglers as they entered the room and moved down the aisles looking for seats. The majority of the attendees appeared little more rested than they had the night before, after finally comprehending the enormity of the previous day’s events. Small knots of people were talking among themselves but most just took seats and waited for Will’s arrival. Faces had been washed and hair was smoothed down but everyone looked as though they’d slept in their clothes and had gotten very little sleep. An occasional smile was seen, usually from one of the children, but generally faces were grim. Mark looked around. It seemed like there were between two and three hundred people. He waved at Helen and Ernest at the back of the room. Helen smiled briefly but she looked frightened.

  Will entered from a hallway behind the auditorium, walked across the stage and approached the podium.

  “May I have your attention please?” he asked, waiting a moment to allow the shuffling and noise to settle before continuing.

  “I need a few volunteers to take the children to the child care area and to baby-sit. Glen will direct you. After the kids are settled most of you can return. There’s a monitor in the day care center and those who remain with the children can watch the meeting from there.”

  Several people stood up and gathered the children together. A few parents, feelings of fear lingering from the previous day, were reluctant to allow their children out of their sight, but finally relented.

  Glen was at the rear door of the room. “Bring the children this way, please.” He ushered approximately 40 children, of whom a dozen or so were babies and toddlers out of the room. Most of the teenagers stayed to listen to the briefing but a few accompanied Glen and the women that went along to care for the children.

  Will continued, “I know you all have a lot of questions, but please wait until I’ve finished the briefing and I’ll attempt to answer them.

  “First
of all, we haven’t been able to communicate with anyone from the outside.”

  There was a murmur from the crowd at this disappointing news, and tears sprang unbidden to the eyes of several men and women.

  “The outside world is deaf and blind due to the EMP, or electromagnetic pulse, which is caused by high altitude detonation of nuclear devices. It causes the buildup of high voltage on all electronic devices and it even jumps across open circuits, burning out all communications and computerized devices. The equipment in this shelter was shielded from EMP so we will be able to re-establish communication when their systems are repaired. There’s also a tremendous amount of static since the Earth’s atmosphere has undoubtedly been disturbed by the nuclear blasts. As soon as we receive any messages at all we’ll make an announcement. There’s a public address system throughout the shelter and everyone has E-mail on their computer.” He took a sip of water from a glass on the podium.

  “Will the following people please stand up? Manny Boulder, Robert Crowder, and Farley Brand.” He looked up from his list to find just one man standing. He was average looking, about 35 years old, with short sandy hair, and he repeatedly glanced down at the woman sitting beside him. She reached up and took his hand.

  “What’s your name, sir?” Will asked the man.

  “I’m Robert Crowder. This is my wife, Lisa.” He indicated the woman, a decent looking woman with shoulder length brown hair, about thirty years old.

  “Welcome, I’m glad you two got through. We’re going to need some help in the communications room. You’re an Air Force communications officer, correct?” Crowder nodded.