Greek Island

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Brad and Jimmy started doing better. They adjusted to the fact that their mother wasn’t coming back, ill words ceased and reminiscing ones replaced them. I was worried about them for a spell, but they were strong boys.

  Jimmy had a knack for using his hands. I believe he made it that easy so he could work hard and not think.

  He and another man were the ones who started the shelter greenhouse.

  They broke the concrete floor, lifted it, and started working the soil. But that wasn’t in the sun room. They did so at a tunnel.

  Stan said the idea was a good one and we’d fare better with a hydroponics system. We could grow peppers, tomatoes, sprouts. A hydroponics system is a self contained system with lighting, dirt and water.

  Stan and Jim recreated one. At 33 days PA, they were nearly completed.

  The shelter had seedlings so we were ready to go.

  Brad stayed busy in the medical division. Agnes was teaching him every day. He learned to take blood pressure, and he learned to take blood. Which was quite painful since he practiced on me.

  Yes, things were looking better.

  We learned that Suzy could sing and Bill played guitar and keyboards. There was a piano in the meeting room and Marcus went up into the resort and got a guitar.

  They practiced constantly.

  Check this out. Stan knew how to make moonshine and I found out he wanted to build a still.

  Sweet.

  The proverbial jack of all trades was at it again.

  Boy was I grateful he saw our smoke signals.

  Marcus and I took a trip on Day 33 to the well water pump at a nearby farm. We released some water then filled a pail.

  We brought it back with us and tested it. It was fine.

  We signed up people to do well water trips.

  Stan said it was ridiculous to suit up. They would add time and hinder people. He could take his pickup truck, hit two farms, and fill ten barrels in less than an hour and a half. He and two others. Once every three weeks. Others could fill in the gap.

  Mary Agnes calculated and said that was fine.

  I didn’t go with him that first trip. I wish I would have.

  He left just before dawn when radiation was at its lowest. The fall sun had moved back from our planet and we prayed for a break in rads.

  It hadn’t happened.

  Stan and two others, a woman and a man left.

  I went to the kitchen and watched in amazement as Luella made pancakes for breakfast.

  We only had breakfast once a week. It wasn’t because of supplies, but more so because no one really ate.

  Luella made homemade granola and that was what people munched on in the mornings.

  Sundays were breakfast days.

  She’d make pancakes or something. We’d have a quick service and then we’d all eat as a community.

  The plan was in motion. Stan went out at five; he’d be back by six thirty. Service was at seven, we’d eat at seven thirty.

  It was just about time for service and I was enjoying a cup of coffee while watching Luella.

  “Had ya ever done chaplain work before Captain?” she asked, mixing.

  “No, Ma’am I haven’t.” I imagined, as I watched her, the type of mother she was. Doting, dutiful, always there. She had one son who was killed in the war. But she didn’t speak of him in past tense.

  “I hear you do well,” she said. “I try to listen, but it’s hard. With cooking and all.”

  “I know and we are all so grateful for what you do.”

  “I do what I love.”

  “It shows.”

  She smiled. “So since ya’ never was a chaplain, how does one prepare for the new role?”

  I shrugged. “I was catholic. I don’t know. I just pick something out of the bible each week and hope it teaches a lesson.”

  “I like how ya’ got everyone to have faith. Good for you. Your parents are proud.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure. Well, I better get ready …” As I stood, I stopped, Stan had stepped in.

  There was something about Stan that was different. I immediately knew by the way he solemnly removed his hat that something had occurred.

  “Stan?” I questioned. “Did you get the water?”

  “Yes, sir, we did.” Stan nodded. “Not all. We had to stop.”

  “Was there a problem?”

  “You … you can say that. More of an emergency.”

  I stepped to Stan, focusing on the seriousness on his face, making eye contact with him with each step I took. “What happened, Stan?”

  “Captain ...” He cleared his throat, nearly choking on the words. “Captain, sir … we … we found your wife.”

  ***

  As with anyone, I immediately thought the worst.

  ‘We found your wife’ said a lot to me.

  My heart wanted the best, my head told me differently. All I knew is that Stan, a man who stood tall, slumped. His gray hair tossed as if he had been running his fingers through it.

  Was he in debate?

  I sighed out immediately after he had told me. I expected him to say he had found her body, not …

  “You need to mentally prepare yourself, Captain.”

  Good God, what had occurred?

  He told me that they were pumping water at the second farm when he heard a barking. It didn’t sound like a dog, yet it didn’t sound human. They halted what they were doing to investigate, and there inside the house, they found Jade.

  She must have made it to the farm house.

  Jade must have believed it to be safe.

  She was wrong.

  When they discovered her, she was laying on the couch. She had left our shelter … without shoes.

  Sores graced her feet and the skin was black and peeling.

  Jade a beautiful woman, in the course of just over a week had exposed herself to so much radiation; her hair was thin and balding. Her teeth were falling out, her body bloated and encrusted with vomit and blood.

  I rushed to the medical room to see her, and Mary Agnes asked me to wait until she cleaned her.

  When the boys and I entered, Jade was out of it.

  I could see it on the boys’ faces and knew what it was. I felt it, too. Despite how ill Jade was, we were able to have closure to the whole thing.

  “How?” I asked. “How did she get this bad?”

  “She wasn’t sheltered,” Mary Agnes replied. “Plus, no shoes, Captain. She walked on the beat particles.

  “What’s her prognosis?”

  “Not good. Had she worn shoes, had on a coat, and stayed inside, something. But she must have been outside continuously for days.”

  I nodded. I understood. “How long do you think?” I asked.

  “A couple days. A week at the most. But I’m guessing,” Mary Agnes answered. “This is all new.”

  We accepted that answer. It was painful, not matter what occurred, to watch Jade suffer. The boys anguished over the vision of her.

  But we didn’t leave Jade. We huddled her bed, spoke to her, though she never responded, and stayed by her side gaining every remaining moment and absorbing the resolution we prayed for.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I couldn’t believe it was October 3rd. Despite the fact that we created a calendar, and marked off each day, I still couldn’t believe it. 38 Days PA.

  It stayed amazingly warm in the shelter, but we knew that would be short lived. It started snowing, hard and fast above us and unseasonably early.

  Jade passed away fairly fast. In her sleep, she smiled partially, gripped onto Jimmy’s hand, tilted her head and passed.

  The boys had mourned her for a week before she was found, and the mourning process, though difficult was a bit easier.

  We had hoped with the first snow on the first of October that we’d see some sort of change in radiation patterns.

  We did.

  They went up.

  They rose nearly ten rads an hour.

  The rads fluctuated
more than a floating gas gauge.

  We determined we would stop taking daily readings and resort only to weekly readings.

  A man named Clearance Greene joined us on the last day of September. He was a science teacher at the local school and his battery power ceased. He also ran out of food. He remembered the shelter, and made his way there in hopes of finding salvation.

  We welcomed the lone man.

  His scientific knowledge would come in handy.

  He theorized why the radiation patterns fluctuated and it made sense.

  All the dirt, dust and debris thrown into the atmosphere was blocking out the warmth of the sun, not only causing a mini ice age, but a sealant on the radiation in our atmosphere.

  This was troubling.

  “Remember how they said when the meteor hit the dinosaurs, dirt and debris went into the air and blocked out the sun?” he asked in explanation. “This is the same thing. All that stuff tossed in the atmosphere from the bombs is working like a Tupperware lid right now. Sealing everything inside.”

  “For how long?” I asked.

  “Years. A couple.”

  “It’s going to seal it in for years?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “Could be worse,” he said. “We’re only fluxing between twenty and thirty rads. I’d venture to guess, the bigger cities are higher.”

  We held a camp meeting, and Clearance created charts as a visual for everyone so he could explain what was happening.

  If his theory held true, we were truly stuck below with limited outside exposure. And that could be for years.

  We were plentiful on food and water. The hydroponics were taking nicely. People in the camp had an ‘it figures’ attitude about the sealed in radiation, and knew there was nothing they could do about it.

  Nothing but wait, hope, and bide their time.

  But there was one other thing.

  With all the talk about the bigger cities having higher doses of radiation, my curiosity piqued, as did Marcus and Ray’s.

  All the events unfolding, the arrivals, Jade’s illness, Ray’s illness, the construction … we had put it aside.

  It was time. It was time to venture out, leave the mountain, head into civilization, and see for ourselves what really had become of the world.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “This is Project Greek Island, October 5th, if anyone can hear this transmission, please respond.”

  Pause.

  His name was Greg, a silent young man who was studying broadcasting in college. It took for him to finally open his mouth and with the help of Clarence they were able to create a SSB, single sideband Modulation. A technique begun in the 1930’s and used by amateur radio operators during WWII. It enabled broadcasters to effectively use a bandwidth without waste and broadcast over numerous channels and frequencies at one time.

  The nuclear winter and radioactive particles in the air actually helped.

  Greg had the technique down pat. His voice didn’t waiver, no emotions. He wasn’t a short wave radio operator, but he learned.

  He was one of the men on shift.

  Every hour, on the hour call out for five minutes, then monitor to see if a signal could be picked up. Checking as many frequencies as possible.

  “This is project Greek Island, October 5th, if you can hear this transmission, please respond.”

  Static.

  Pause.

  They were not broadcasting a location at all. Just that that we were alive and searching.

  I watched, at least every other hour I checked in to watch. Once a day, Greg or whoever was on duty at 5 PM would broadcast the radioactive atmosphere readings. We thought perhaps someone was listening without the ability to respond. Eventually, they’d figure it out.

  I stood in the silence of the radio room. Watching, waiting, and hoping. Every day I hoped someone would come on the airwaves.

  ‘Hey, what the heck,” they’d say. “We’re alive and well in California. Yeah, dudes, everything is fine here.”

  Of course I knew that was a fantasy.

  I was so engrossed in the mundane nature of the radio calls, that I didn’t hear Marcus enter.

  “Done,” Marcus announced.

  With a start, I turned. “Excuse me.”

  “The computer in your office. Done. Hooked up. I gave you a printer, too. We’ll worry about the ink later. Now you can write your novel.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a smile. My novel, this was a bright spot.

  “There are more computers in the hotel. Decontaminating them isn’t a problem. Most still work, I’ll guess. Some may not from the EMP effect. We’ll have to try. We’ll see if there’s a demand. Right now, you have yours. Now you can write and make a good log of events, as well.”

  “A good log?” I asked. “I’m not keeping a good log.”

  “I’m sure what you’re writing is good, but your handwriting leads a lot to be desired. I’ll be more than happy to type it up for you.”

  With a ‘hmm’ of thought, and a cross look to Greg who snickered over the bad handwriting remark, I nodded. “That wouldn’t be bad. I’ll probably be better at the log if I am typing it.”

  “Look what else I got.” Marcus held up a camera. “Actually, picked up a bunch. We can download the pictures. I’m thinking of creating a history book of events, what do you think?”

  “I think that’s a splendid idea. Don’t you, Greg?”

  Greg only nodded. He was too busy with the radio.

  “I also thought,” Marcus said. “With the computer I set up for myself, I can create a power point presentation.”

  “Good lord, of what?” I asked.

  Almost embarrassed, Marcus lowered his head. “People here, they know were going out. They’re gonna ask questions about Roanoke or Charleston, wherever we decide to hit first today. They’re gonna ask what we saw.”

  “And you want to show them?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Marcus replied. “They need to know as much as we do. If they don’t want to see, they don’t have to.”

  “The new news network,” I mumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Marcus asked for clarification.

  “Nothing, just thinking. Are we ready to go?”

  “Suits are waiting, so is Ray.”

  With a nod, I laid my hand on Greg’s back. “We’ll be communicating with you as well, checking in. Let us know of any problems.”

  “Roger that, Captain.” Greg gave a thumbs up.

  I listened to him call out again over the airwaves, and with a nervous sigh of what we were about to face, I left the radio room with Marcus.

  We were about to embark on phase one, the first documentation of the new history in the making.

  ***

  In 1969 Elvis Presley was in a movie called, Change of Habit. It dealt with three nuns who were sent into society, without their respective nun outfits. The church sent them into the community to see if they could do good as women and not just as nuns. They had to work with Elvis.

  They truly, without their habits, felt out of place.

  They were awkward, and the basic city was like a foreign land to them. Taking it all in, and approaching it as aliens.

  Dressed in our radiation suits, I felt that way as we pulled from the driveway for the resort. Like aliens landing in a foreign land. Out of place. A new world. Suddenly, as we drove, I heard the song in my head that Elvis sang in that movie.

  Immediately as Ray drove, I jotted down the words to the song. I was going to get together with Suzy and see if I sang the song, could they learn it.

  After all I was in charge of church services. It was a religious song, and I was inspired by actual events.

  Perhaps I’d even explain where the song came from.

  It was probably the strangest assimilation I ever made in my life. The three nuns from that movie. I was thinking of it. My eyes focused on the thin opening of the Fox and I muttered, Mary Tyler Moore.

  Ray asked what I was talking about and when I t
old him, he chuckled, recalling the movie.

  Marcus on the other hand thought I was nuts.

  I explained the movie and why I was thinking of it. Ray understood. Marcus did not.

  But the conversation about the movie did one other thing. It passed the time.

  We were on the highway before we knew it.

  Taking the mountain road from the resort was uneventful, other than the dusting of ash on the trees, everything looked normal. Until we arrived at the highway.

  I know my stomach fluttered, trying not to envision a destroyed city. I also know that I had hopes that somehow, we would emerge into some sort of civilization.

  The highway told me that that was a hope that would be lost.

  Ash sprayed outward in the air, creating a dust cloud as we rolled down the highway. Charleston was seventy-seven miles away, and about mile twenty we started seeing them.

  Cars.

  They were randomly on the road, stalled, I suppose when the EMP effect hit. We never felt the EMP effect. The only thing we ever felt was a slight rumble. Safely guarded underground.

  In the Fox we didn’t wear our head gear. Levels were good inside, and Ray kept the counter going.

  About mile 40 I saw a body.

  Bodies became more predominant as we drove on.

  “This can’t be right,” Ray said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Levels are dropping.”

  Why it occurred, I don’t know, but I hit the break, slowing down. The shock maybe of hearing that.

  “Levels are dropping?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah, we’re at 14 rads.”

  The Geiger counter clicked.

  “Fourteen?” I asked in shock.

  A few miles later, Ray announced we were at eight.

  “You know what this could mean, don’t you?” I stated. “This could mean, somewhere in this country, there’s a safe level.”

  Ray shrugged. “It could be a moving cloud. It rained around here. Who knows? But how are we supposed to find out where in the country it’s safe if we can’t find where in the country anyone is alive to answer.”

  “True,” I said.

  The rads held steady at eight. This was really surprising considering we were closing in on Charleston. I’d say the mountains protected the air, but we were embedded in a mountain at the resort.