Greek Island

by Druga, Jacqueline

The small twelve bed clinic wasn’t going to cut it. We had fifty-three people with acute radiation sickness. Most of them said their symptoms had just started twenty-four hours earlier.

  It was only going to get worse.

  The room reeked. It was by far the worst odor I have ever experienced. We were swimming in a pool of vomit and diarrhea, involuntary release of bodily functions and I worried about the individuals who were aiding. Sure they wore protective clothing, but working with the discharge made me concerned. Radiation poisoning wasn’t contagious, malaria, cholera they were.

  Pretty soon the expulsion of gross liquid would be accompanied by the loss of hair and open wounds that would seep.

  When Ray suggested we seal off the room, release a chemical in there, and let them all die, I have to admit, I thought about it.

  Was that so horrible?

  How could I be responsible for the lives of fifty people, when another fifty people threatened them inadvertently?

  Just after we brought them in and organized them, there were several individuals who were expressing concern and some anger about bringing them in.

  “I don’t have a problem helping people, but this is a bit overboard,” one said.

  Another one commented, “It’s one thing to let people into our shelter, another to let sick ones in.”

  Marcus, the peacekeeper played devil’s advocate. “I can see their point,” he said. “And I see yours. Can’t we find away to appease everyone?”

  In a picture perfect world, Marcus, no one would be upset.

  Hating to say it, I too, wanted to dispose of the ill but it wasn’t the humane thing to do. So said Thirty-five people in our vote. Majority won. We cared for the sick.

  They stayed. I assigned no one to the task, I accepted only volunteers.

  But that was only fifty-some.

  At their rate of deterioration they wouldn’t be around long anyhow.

  But according to Brad and to Mary Agnes the hotel was full. Where did those people go?

  This was a question on our minds. Would they come to our vault door? Had they left and gone out into the world.

  We still needed supplies. Mostly clothes for everyone. We planned a trip topside to get items to decontaminate. After settling our newest temporary residents, Ray, Marcus, and I went to the decontamination room and grabbed the radiation suits.

  It was time to go up.

  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited at the prospect of seeing somewhat of a doomsday environment. After all, it fueled my passion in writing. And I was about to see the true pictorial of my many fiction words.

  ***

  I suppose the main tunnel way still held the odor, even though we had sprayed it down. Stains of bloody vomit graced the concrete floor. We spoke through radios in our suits, the oxygen tanks full. We were like spacemen. Ray held the Geiger counter informing us of any increase each fifty feet we journeyed.

  There really wasn’t much of an increase in radiation levels until we neared the exit of the tunnel.

  Basically signifying that the tunnels were a safe place against fall out.

  When we emerged, we emerged outside instead of in the west wing. Ray wanted an accurate reading.

  He got one.

  One hundred twenty rads per hour and holding steady.

  Even though we monitored the outside noises through the speaker in our suits, the feel was eerily quiet. Almost as if the song Eve of Destruction sang its melody mentally to us. Carrying in a dead breeze we could only see. Not hear. Strange.

  The world was silent. Even in this remote sector of West Virginia, it was just too damned silent.

  It looked as if a light dusting of snow had fallen on the grass and trees.

  No blast damage, I didn’t think there would be, but I was amazed at how far the beta particles had traveled. Surely, Charleston was hit and hit bad.

  But it wasn’t just beta particles.

  Snow?

  It came down steadily and light. The skies were gray. It didn’t look like August at all, more like January. The dead of winter.

  “Thirty degrees,” Ray called out. “Its’ pretty cold.”

  Marcus sputtered. “Nuclear winter.”

  “It has to be bad,” I said. “For that much dirt and debris to fill the atmosphere and block out the sun?”

  Ray shrugged. “You never know. Could be just the east coast. I say we make plans to take the Fox out soon.”

  “Will we be safe?” I asked.

  “In there, yeah, that’s what it’s for. Charleston isn’t too far. We’ll wanna make note of gas stations not destroyed either.”

  “Good idea.”

  I looked to Marcus who was strangely quiet. And rightfully so. He was taking it all in.

  We approached the front of the hotel. Cars were spewed about. Doors open. As if people just ran inside. Golf Carts parks and some on their sides.

  I kept thinking, ‘An ounce of knowledge’. If the folks at the hotel had once ounce of knowledge they would have known that they were ninety percent safe from blast damage. The only thing they had to worry about was radiation. Which, obviously, a lot of them didn’t think about.

  The lobby was empty. I don’t know why I expected it not to be. The darkness took me back, after living in the light. I drew forth my flashlight.

  Marcus said, “There’s still a lot of cars in the parking lot. Where are all the people?”

  “They obviously didn’t drive. A lot probably went to Charleston on foot,” I replied. “Poor bastards. We’ll probably see them on the road.”

  “This way,” Ray called out.

  I looked. He had made it from me and Marcus across the lobby. He was waving his flashlight down a hall.

  “What do you see?” I asked.

  “Tables set up in the hall,” he replied the looked to the plague on the wall. “The ball room.”

  Someone tried. Someone really did try to organize the group. Tables with snacks, water and food were set up on the hall. Papers were spewed about.

  The sign indicated ‘main ball room’. At the end of the hall were four sets of double doors.

  “You want to take this Captain?” Ray asked.

  I stepped forward and reached for the door.

  I was grateful we couldn’t smell anything, because I could only image what that room smelled like. If the tunnel was bad with fifty people, the ballroom had to be atrocious with the hundred plus that were in there.

  They all gathered together. I assumed not all, because there were over four hundred registered with the hotel. But there were massive amounts of people.

  I watched Marcus gag.

  “Keep it in check,” I ordered. “If you can’t handle it, go into the hall.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I’m fine. Now.”

  I know why he gagged.

  The faces. The bodies.

  They huddled together on the floors with blankets. Body fluids, dried, laced their mouths. Their eyes were wide and mouths open. The skin black in sections, sores gracing them. Hair gone is splotches.

  They were exposed big time to radiation, and a good culprit of its deliverance were the huge windows that weren’t even blocked.

  Their poisoning came in the form of light. An invisible killer that ravaged through them without their knowledge.

  We walked through the bodies, stepping over them, shining their faces with our flashlights.

  One at a time.

  These were the ones who got sick fastest and didn’t have the strength or the sense to go below when they started feeling the effects. They just stayed there, getting exposed, absorbing it all in.

  “This one’s alive!” Marcus called out.

  “This one, too.” Ray added from the other side of the room. “In fact …” He shined his light about. “A lot of these people are alive. Barely moving but alive.”

  I jumped. I almost screamed by the shock of it. No sooner did Ray say that a hand shot up and grabbed my ankle. I looked down to the man wh
ose mouth moved. A thick, yellow saliva was like a paste in and over his mouth. Thick strands moved with each movement of his lips. I freed my leg and stepped back.

  “Captain,” Marcus made his way over. “What do we do?”

  Ray arrived. “I count at least twenty. There’s probably more.”

  Again, Marcus asked. “What do we do?”

  I thought for a moment, but not very long. “Let’s go.” I turned.

  “Captain?” Marcus questioned. “Let’s go?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Ray didn’t question, he just followed me.

  When we arrived at the door Marcus said, “Captain, you just want to go? Leave them here to die?”

  I rested my hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “As cold as it sounds, yes. There’s nothing we can do for them. Nothing. We can’t chance bringing them into our shelter. We’ve already chanced enough bringing the others in.”

  I saw it in his eyes. Marcus understood. With a closed mouth look, he nodded once and walked by me.

  Waiting until both Marcus and Ray left, I was the last one in the ball room.

  The standing buoy in a sea of vile death.

  After taking one more look around, confirming my decision, I, too, walked out, and closed the door.

  ***

  The hotel resort was exquisite. A plush resort where those who wanted a pampered existence for a few days would go for a few days or a week.

  We found no ‘well’ survivors. There were several people in their rooms that were just as bad as those in the ballroom.

  Like those in the ballroom, we left them.

  It was quick decision, but a tough one. One I would have to deal with for the rest of my life. But life is why I made that decision. I had people down below that I was responsible for. Bringing in more ill would only endanger them. Plus, we just didn’t have the manpower to administer the round the clock care needed.

  Our oxygen tanks were running low and it was time to finish up. We had plenty of tanks for plenty of other trips, but for that moment we were there to gather clothing. We did.

  We loaded up the Bellhop carts as if we were bag people. Heaps of clothing and suitcases balanced on the carts we each had. We located the South Tunnel entrance, which was outside the hotel, and made our way to the bunker.

  That entrance afforded us the privacy to enter unknown. Only someone monitoring the video feed would know. And since Marcus and Ray were with me. No one was the wiser. We didn’t want them to be. We didn’t want to answer questions. We had to decontaminate everything including ourselves and wait another hour in a post decontamination room with the surplus.

  Once Ray, using the Geiger counter, gave us a radiation free thumbs up, we went into the bunker.

  That portion of the bunker was ghostly. Not many people ventured there. If we ever gathered more survivors, I suppose that would change.

  But the hour wait in the post decontamination room was productive. Not only did we sort through the clothing, we talked and planned.

  “Bout an hour and a half to Charleston and the same to Roanoke,” Ray said. “Both reachable by the Fox.”

  “My God, Roanoke, I didn’t think of it. We had fallout from all ends,” I stated.

  Marcus added. “And we’re not too far from Washington DC either. Can the fox make it there?”

  I looked at Ray. My thoughts were that would be a four hour trip, so eight hours of mountain driving. Were we safe for that long? Could the Fox make the journey?

  Ray rubbed his chin. “Probably. But do we want to use up our air tanks.”

  “Won’t the Fox give us protection from radiation?” Marcus asked. “Didn’t you say that’s what they were designed for?”

  Ray nodded. “Yeah, but they haven’t been tested in the real thing. Nuclear war, I mean.”

  “Then let’s test it,” Marcus suggested.

  Ray turned to me.

  I agreed. “That’s not a bad idea. We should test how much radiation gets into the Fox.”

  “OK,” Ray nodded. “I’ll do a test tomorrow. Take out the Fox, do a reading from inside. If it gives us a good bit of protection, even allowing say fewer than four rads in, we’re good for the trip to DC. We’ll suit up once we get there.”

  As sadistic as it sounded, the idea of visiting Washington DC annihilated by nuclear weapons was enticing. The writer of apocalyptic novels in me was curious and wanted to see it.

  Then Ray said, “We still don’t know if DC was hit. Heck, we know nearby was hit. We know this.”

  “Come on, Ray,” I argued. “You know DC was one of them.”

  “But they never mentioned it,” Marcus said. “On the news. They listed cities, DC wasn’t one of them. I have the list.”

  I looked at Marcus quickly. “You made a list of the cities hit?”

  He nodded. “Yep, as they named them right before the TV went out. I suppose that was when Los Angeles got hit. Cause you remember they were broadcasting from New York until that, well, was no longer an option.”

  I snapped my finger. “We should review that list.”

  “You know,” Ray spoke up. “We have that communications room. Hell, we should fire it up in a few days. I figure one week post attack, people are gonna be getting their wits back and scurrying for radios. We may find survivors. People who need help. We’re in there watching for trouble on the video feeds, might as well fire up those radios. Raise the Antenna. Use the Fox for a good cause as well.”

  “Take shifts,” Marcus suggested. “Make calls out and listen say every hour on the hour.”

  It was a remarkably good idea and good thinking on their parts. We continued sorting the clothes while etching a few plans in stone. Those were plans for things we’d implement a few days down the road. We still had to set up a inventory of items we picked up, store them, distribute some. But first thing was first; when we emerged we had to deal with the reality of the newest members of our shelter. That was a gruesome reality and task none of us wanted to face.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Margot Ridder sent an immediate bolt of jealousy into Jade. I couldn’t even mention Margot’s name after our initial conversation regarding her. I suppose that was my fault, I praised Margot’s knowledge of medicine and dedication to nursing. Margot had volunteered to set up and maintain the clinic.

  There’s was nothing especially attractive about Margot. OK, so maybe to others there was. When Jade asked if I thought she was attractive, maybe I shouldn’t have responded, “If you like the Julia Robert’s from Pretty Woman type.”

  My tiny wife didn’t have the shapely Hollywood body, and was always self conscious, I don’t know why.

  She said since there weren’t as many men, and the women outnumbered us two to one, that the competition would be fierce to have a man.

  I was positive that Marcus and Ray would love to hear that. Neither was married.

  I was.

  But, as insecurity goes, my spoken dedication to my wife didn’t make a dent.

  Onward and away from this.

  I brought this up as some sort of explanation for the immediate guilt I felt for going to speak to Margot.

  It was a professional, medical visit, yet, I felt racked with guilt, as if I were doing something wrong. I shucked it during the conversation, but felt it right afterward.

  Women.

  Sorry.

  Our bunker departure, tour, collection, and everything else took us way for four hours. By the time we had returned and I checked in with Margot at the clinic, she and the others had the patients organized.

  “Severe radiation sickness,” Margot explained, “They’re already bleeding internally. We’re not longer dealing with bodily functions we’re dealing with straight blood. I don’t know how they are living this long.”

  “It’s only been a few days.”

  “And there exposure had to be astronomical. I don’t know what to do, Captain.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She sighed out. “There’s r
eally no treatment that we can give them. We can only make them comfortable. They are in amazing pain and the sickness is overwhelming. But our supplies of comfort, such as pain killers and morphine are limited. Do we …” she looked over shoulder and whispered. “Do we want to waste it?”

  I nodded. “I see. No. No we don’t want to waste it. Just do what you can.”

  “Which isn’t much.”

  “Then that’s all you can do.” I reached out and gave a pat to her arm. A pat and squeeze of assurance. “But do not … do not wear yourself down for this. Understood.”

  “Yes. Captain?” After hesitation, she motioned her head and drew me into the hall. “Have you fired up the crematorium furnace yet?”

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “Then can I suggest you do? We’ll need to utilize it.”

  “Ray and I will get on that right away.”

  “Thank you. We have several I feel are going to go. It’s a good thing they received a high dose instead of a medium dose.”

  That made me curious. “Why do you say that?”

  “A medium dose, 400 to 600 rads, would be deadly. But … not at first. They’d get sick initially, get well, then bam, in this stage after a few weeks.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  I ran my hand down my face. “It could have been worse.”

  “We wouldn’t have seen it coming. In all cases of radiation, mild, medium, high, the symptoms start out the same. In the high doses they progressively get worse. In the low and medium dose they have reprieve. But, to distinguish low from medium takes wakes.”

  “I very glad you are informed.”

  “Me, too.” She breathed out. “I have to get back.”

  “Let me know if you need anything. I want to check with my family then start distribution of clothing.”

  “How did it go in the resort?” she asked.

  I just shook my head.

  “I figured. Talk to you soon, Captain.”

  “Good luck.”

  She went back in the ward and I turned. To my surprise Jade was at the end of the hall.

  Great. Swell.

  ***

  How did I know it was coming? Years of being with her?