Radioactive and The Decay Dystopian Super Boxset- A Dirty Bomb and Nuclear Blast Prepper Tale of Survival

by James Hunt

  But Senator Bryant failed to see that Samantha, herself, had a plan of her own. She needed to find the access card. It felt like she had been underground for over a month. It had actually been nearly three weeks, but her perception of days was hazy. The day of her planned escape, she sipped coffee from her bunk, and pondered what she would do. She gladly accepted food as to not raise suspicion, but got rid of it the first chance she had. After lunch, she waited for the kitchen to empty and searched in cabinets high and low for sedatives. Deep within one of the cabinets, she found a small unlabeled case of twenty small white pills.

  Later that day, Senator Bryant called her to his private quarters before dinner time. This time, she was excited, as the prospect of an access card awaited. She entered his room wearing the fancy dress given to her days before. It was a short-sleeved glittering red dress that stopped only inches above her knees. She had a black vinyl belt around her waist that shined as well. Her black sandals clicked on the hard tile surface when she walked. Her toenails were painted red, her black hair swayed gently to the sides as she approached his doorway, a stunning picture of beauty.

  "Very nice to see you. I'm glad you came," Bryant said looking up from his computer desk. He was surprisingly dressed down, wearing glasses, a bathrobe, and slippers. He looked to be in his forties, though still youthful in appearance. His eyes projected a combination of passion and sadness. Bryant ached for her, never more than at the moment she walked in.

  "Are you coming to dinner?" she asked, trying to take charge of the situation.

  Bryant looked around, first at his laptop screen then to Samantha. "I was hoping that maybe we could talk for a little bit," he replied. "Why don't you have a seat?"

  Samantha scanned the room and saw that there was conveniently nowhere else to sit other than on his king sized bed.

  "Sure, why not?" she said.

  Bryant looked a tad taken aback by her amiable mood, even a little suspicious. Once she sat at the foot of the bed, Bryant stood up and walked over.

  "I know," he said, clearing his throat. "I know that things have not been easy for you here, and I apologize. I would hope that you understand that I'm only looking out for the safety of you and the other guests."

  "I understand," she said.

  He sat close to her on the bed, causing the mattress to slightly sink in. "Under normal circumstances I would meet a woman like you at a convention center, offer a handshake and understand that we would never see each other again." Bryant thought to himself then continued. "But these are not normal times, Samantha. Certain measures have to be taken. I assure you that we're working on something great. Something that, for me, has been a lifetime in the making."

  Samantha sat, unresponsive. Where was he going with this? He inched closer to her, speaking not above a whisper.

  "I know you had a life out there. So did I. Now that we've been brought together, there's nothing we can't accomplish. After all these years you have returned to me." Bryant breathed onto her neck. He was inches from her, nearing a complete embrace.

  "Perhaps some champagne," Samantha said, trying to cover-up her nervousness.

  "I think with a glass or two I'll feel better about this whole thing," she said.

  Bryant stopped and shifted around looking for a bottle. "I don't believe I have any here. I'll have to go to the kitchen."

  "Oh, I don't want to make you go through any trouble," she said.

  "No, not at all. Wait here, I'll be right back," he said.

  Bryant scurried off in his bathrobe. Samantha waited patiently on the bed and listened for the sounds of his soft footsteps trailing away. She stood up, slipped her hand under her belt, and pulled out three tiny capsules. Though she wasn’t sure if the pills were sedatives, she felt that the only way to find out was to put a couple in Bryant's glass. She listened again for the sound of his approach and heard nothing.

  She looked around. The room was small and sterile, with only a bed, desk, and a few small tables. The walls were made of metallic gray steel, different from the concrete wall in the barracks. What little space existed was cluttered with piles of paperwork, as if Bryant was conducting some type of massive research project. On his desk sat a laptop computer and coffee maker, among other stacks of paperwork.

  Samantha walked to his computer desk and tossed the paperwork aside, looking for anything that resembled an access card. She felt doubtful that the card would be lying around in the open, but decided to take the chance. His soft footsteps grew closer. Samantha hurried back to his bed and took a seat. After gaining her composure, she held her hand up and squeezed tightly, grinding the pills together until they became a powdery substance.

  Bryant entered the room carrying a bottle of champagne with two glasses. He strutted around the room in his bathrobe like he was at the Playboy mansion. There was no doubt that he had certain expectations on how the evening was going to turn out.

  "Fortunately I found a bottle already on ice. It's slightly chilled," he said, while setting the glass down on a nearby glass table. He grabbed a corkscrew and opened the champagne which emitted a loud popping sound. He flashed a smile at Samantha as suds bubbled to the top of the bottle and onto the hard steel ground, then gently poured two glassed, handing one to her.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "My pleasure," Bryant answered.

  He resumed his seat next to her on the bed, over his silk white comforter. The bed was soft and comfortable; certainly a step up from the mattress Samantha had been sleeping on. Bryant stared into her eyes and raised his glass up.

  "To a new age," he said.

  Samantha raised her arm up to halt the toast. "Wait, I'm sorry. Do you have any music?" she asked.

  Bryant held his glass in the air awkwardly as he displayed an uncertain expression. "Music?" he asked. "Well, I might have some on my laptop." He seemed more interested in completing his toast than searching for any tunes, but Samantha was insistent.

  "It's just; I always like to have a song playing in the background during a special toast. It always makes the moment more memorable, you know?"

  Bryant set his glass on his bedside table and looked around. "I think that I do."

  "Just something that sets the mood," Samantha said.

  She was taking a risk in sending out such signals, but his glass was close within reach. She opened her hand slightly and examined the powder cradled within her palm. Hopefully it wouldn't leave a trace once she put it in. Bryant reluctantly rose up and went to his laptop. The blue light from the screen reflected onto his face as he closed the many windows on his desktop in search for music tracks.

  Samantha saw that he was distracted and took her chance. She leaned slightly over to her side and released the powder into his glass. It floated on the surface, highly noticeable to even the casual eye. Nervous, she looked over to Bryant. His eyes were still on his laptop screen. She took his glass carefully and swished it around. The powder would not dissolve. To his satisfaction, Bryant found some Marvin Gaye tracks and played the first song. The song's soothing horns and bass reverberated out of the laptop speakers.

  He glanced over to Samantha and noticed her holding his glass.

  "You must be very thirsty," he said snidely.

  Surprised, Samantha dropped his glass onto the floor, shattering it to pieces. "No! Shit," she said in frustration.

  "Relax, it’s okay. There are plenty of glasses where that came from."

  Samantha stared at the broken glass and sizzling suds of evaporating liquid on the floor. Bryant grabbed the bottle and took a seat next to her on the bed. She hadn't taken her eyes off the mess below. She mentally scolded herself. I should have tested the pills first to see if they would have evaporated! Now she wasn't sure what to do. Bryant rested a hand on her shoulder.

  "I told you that it was okay, I'll clean it up later," he said with a reassuring smile.

  "Jeff," Samantha said, holding her champagne glass. "I'm not feeling very well; I think I'm going to go to bed."


  Bryant's face dropped in confusion, but he remained undeterred.

  "Nonsense. Why go back to the crowded barracks when you can have all the privacy you want here? Besides, we haven't even completed the toast yet."

  "I'm fine, really. Just a sudden headache. I get these sometimes."

  Samantha started to get up, but Bryant clutched her arm.

  "Sorry, Samantha, you're not going anywhere..."

  "What are you talking about?" she asked nervously as his grip tightened.

  "Until, that is, you have your champagne," Bryant said with a laugh. "Come now, you didn't have me go all the way to the kitchen for nothing, did you? Let's finish my toast."

  Samantha thought for a moment, and decided to give in. "Okay," she said. "I'll have one drink."

  She raised her glass as Bryant raised the bottle. "To the future," he said.

  They clinked glass against bottle and took a drink. After a sip, Samantha set her glass on a small circular glass table in front of her as Bryant did the same with the bottle. After a moment, she stood up and brushed off her dress.

  "I'm going to lie down now. Thank you for the drink."

  She would try again the next night, though she was still upset for blowing it.

  "Now wait just a minute, you have to finish you glass. It's a sin to waste fine champagne."

  "It's quite alright, thank you," Samantha said turning away.

  Her resistance made Bryant furious. His face reddened as he grew angry. He lunged at her arm once again and jerked her towards him, startling her.

  "Senator Bryant, please let me go," she pleaded.

  He pulled her to the bed by her thin, white arm reddened by his grasp. "Stay with me tonight and I promise no harm will come to you," he said with fire in his eyes.

  Samantha pulled her arm away as hard as she could, nearly falling off his bed as a result. “Enough!" she said, pushing herself up. "What is it that you want from me? I'm married, don't you understand that? Nothing you say or do is going to make me forget about my family."

  Bryant recoiled slightly from her outburst. His face wore an expression of disappointment and sadness. Samantha continued. "I want to leave this place and I don't care what is going on outside. Please, Senator, just let me leave here so I can find my husband and child."

  Bryant leaned back in his bed casually and smugly rested his arms behind his head. "Sorry, can't risk the contamination."

  Samantha paced towards his bed in a fury. She leaned forward, getting within inches of his face. "No more excuses. Let me go now, or so help me God--"

  Suddenly, Bryant lunged at her with intense rage. He wrapped his hands around both her arms and yanked her towards him. "Who the FUCK do you think you are?" he seethed. His face constricted to a wrinkled mass of bulging veins. Samantha felt herself being pulled closer and closer as if in the throes of a shark.

  "Do you know who I am? Do you have any clue what it is that I do? I'm a United States Senator!"

  "Jeff--please. Let me go," she said, struggling.

  Bryant pulled harder. "I take you in, protect you from harm, and this is the thanks I get?"

  Samantha pulled away, causing Bryant to heave her completely face-first on the bed. He placed his knee on her back to keep her down. "Now you wanna come to my room wearing your little red dress, playing a bunch of fucking games. Well, it's not going to work like that, sweetheart, not today!" Bryant said, digging into her back.

  Samantha screamed into the bed comforter. Her calls for help came out muffled and unintelligible. She lifted her head sobbing. "Let me go, you bastard!" she shouted.

  Bryant pushed her head back down onto the comforter, silencing her. "Shhhhh. Let's not blow this out of proportion. It's time that you showed me a little appreciation," Bryant said, unfastening the belt on his bathrobe with one hand, while pushing her down with his free hand.

  Samantha squirmed and twisted her way from under his knee. She managed to break free, only to be tossed on her back with Bryant over her. He smiled, and grunted as he pinned both her arms down with his legs, sitting atop her. There was no escape.

  "Ah, now we're talking," Bryant said excitedly.

  Samantha let out another scream and wrestled one arm away from under Bryant's knee. She brought it directly to his face and clawed fiercely down the side of his cheek. Her nails dug deep, causing Bryant to fall back in agony. Once free, Samantha rolled off the bed and hit the ground. Bryant writhed in pain from his wounds as she dragged herself on the ground towards his door.

  "You bitch!" Bryant yelled, wiping the blood off his check. "You'll pay for this. You'll pay for everything!"

  Struggling, Samantha crawled towards the small glass table near Bryant's bed. She pulled herself up just as he jumped off the bed directly behind her.

  "Samantha, I'm sorry," he said in a drastically different tone. "Let's be friends again."

  She wobbled to her legs and grabbed the bottle of champagne in her reach. Bryant ascended on her like an animal. She swiftly turned and swung the entire bottle of champagne into his face, splitting it in half. Champagne and glass spilled on the floor. Bryant collapsed onto the floor on his back, crashing over his nightstand. The room went silent. He didn't get up.

  Samantha held what was left of the bottle in her hand, ready to strike again. She looked to the bedroom door, walked over and quietly shut it. It may have been too late. Someone had to have heard the commotion.

  She studied Bryant. He was on his back and not moving. His eyes were closed. She had no idea when he might awake. There was a large gash on his head. Blood trickled down across his face. Had she killed him? She didn't know, but there was little time to ponder. She tossed the remains of the bottle onto his bed and hurried over to his computer desk to continue her search. She searched frantically for the access card. If she came up empty handed she would have to face Bryant again. It wasn't an option. Massive paperwork cluttered his desk, making the search for something as small as an access card seem impossible. She threw the papers aside clearing his desk in the process. The laptop beckoned her to examine the screen.

  "Fuck," she said in frustration. Her plan was slipping away with every minute. Then suddenly a thought occurred to her that she hadn't considered before. Bryant could have the access card on him. She looked to the feeble lump on the ground who only moments ago tried to attack her. His chest rose slowly up-and-down. His labored breaths flowed harshly in and out of his mouth, sounding an unbearable gargling snore. She slowly approached him, looking for anything that looked like a badge. She knelt and patted the sides of his bathrobe finding nothing. He made no movements to indicate consciousness.

  "A wallet," she thought. "I need to find his wallet."

  She went back to the desk, opened the two small drawers directly underneath the desk surface, and rummaged through the pencils, pens, sticky notes, and clutter. There was no wallet, no badge, and nothing whatsoever of any use.

  "Dammit!" she shouted in frustration.

  She covered her mouth on the verge of tears. Time was running out. Where would Senator Bryant put his wallet? He had to have one somewhere. She looked to his nightstand. Directly under a small lamp, was a folder leather-brown wallet. She stumbled over his incapacitated body and snatched it up in one fell swoop. She moved back to the computer desk and opened the wallet carefully. It was packed with hundreds of dollars' worth of cash. She thumbed through his driver's license, credit cards, club memberships, and photos of the same three children.

  In a slit within the wallet she pulled out a small blank plastic card. Her heart jumped in anticipation as she was almost positive it was the access card in question. She folded the wallet, set it on the table, then picked it up again and opened it. The money was tempting, but would it do her any good? There was little time to hesitate further, she swiped all the cash from it and threw his wallet back on the table. Now it was time to escape.

  The laptop screen lit up again, distracting Samantha. Senator Bryant had received a message. A
small box appeared in the corner of his screen.

  What is your status? Need to know the location of the bomb.

  A cursor blinked repeatedly, awaiting a response. Samantha's fingers hovered over the keyboard. The message continued.

  Transport team is off the grid and mobilizing. Need to intercept bomb before its deployed.

  Samantha couldn't resist. She typed a quick response on the keyboard.

  Who has the bomb? What are they planning to do?

  The chat box immediately disappeared, leaving Samantha staring at a blank screen. There were several minimized windows on the laptop toolbar. She opened them, and scanned their contents. They displayed correspondence between Senator Bryant and several other contacts. From what she could gather, the nuclear attacks were a planned endeavor, involving Senator Bryant and his group of contacts. She flipped through document after document. They had armed middle-eastern terrorist networks with nuclear capabilities to use against their home countries, but apparently had lost control and oversight of the groups, and were scrambling to try to prevent an attack on the west coast. But there was much more she hadn't even begun to delve into.

  Senator Bryant groaned from the floor. Samantha jerked her head around in a panic. He was waking. She pulled the power cord of the laptop from the wall and rolled it up. Everything she had read was either speculative nonsense or held the key to explain the masterminds behind the attack. She shut the laptop, grabbed his access card, and slipped out his door before he awoke.