“Hmm.” Frank nodded. “That’s what Hal said.”
“Hal’s smart.”
“He stole Ellen.”
“He didn’t steal Ellen you asshole,” My father barked. “Steal her from who? You? You were married last I knew.”
“Still.”
“Still my ass. You’re ridiculous. At least he’s keeping it in the family.”
My mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“It’s true.” My father poured himself a drink.
Frank exhaled. “At least it’s, Hal, she moved on to. It could have been someone else here.”
I raised my drink. “That’s true.”
“It could have been that Italian guy,” Frank said.
“What Italian guy?” I asked. “Marcus?”
“No, Henry.”
I looked at my father then back at Frank. “Henry?”
“Henry?” My father repeated. “Why would you say he’s Italian?”
“Um, his last name. When I asked him what kind of name it was, he said Italian.”
My father huffed. “Did you get a good look at him, Frank?”
“Yeah.”
“And he looks Italian to you.”
“I can’t say, Dad,” Frank replied. “People from Italy look different ways.”
“Yeah, but they don’t look Asian.” My father snapped.
“And you’re point?” Frank asked.
“My point is, he’s not Italian, he’s Japanese.”
“No, he’s Italian.”
“Frank, look at him.”
“Dad he said.”
I don’t give a rat’s ass what he said,” My father grew irritated. “He probably was being facetious with you for asking such a dumb question.”
“So you’re saying Henry is a liar,” Frank said.
“No I’m saying you’re a moron,” my father tipped his drink and brought in a gulp.
“At least Hal is moral,” Frank said.
“Thank you Frank.” I smiled.
“Yeah, if it was anyone else, they’d be sleeping with her.”
My father choked on his drink. “Did you know she was pregnant?”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded.
“How the hell did she get that way, Frank?”
“Pete.”
My father shook his head. “No.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” my father asked.
“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking.”
“Your brother maybe?”
Frank laughed. “He doesn’t have sex. So how did he get her pregnant?”
I saw it. My father’s face. The my father drew up that sarcastic look. “Wow. I don’t know. That’s a tough one. Hal, you have a problem.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Anyhow …” My father continued. “Can we move on for this meeting?”
I nodded my agreement and OK to move forward.
My father explained, “Frank and I were up there again, and it is evident, we’ve been having visitors. They aren’t camping out and leaving for a reason, Hal.”
“I agree,” I said. “We’re secure.”
Frank said. “Not enough and you know it. C-4 will blow these doors off. If they hit any remaining installation, got any gas, a good grouping of them can hit each door and infiltrate. You know that.”
“So we post a man on each door?” I asked.
“We can put Frank in charge of that,” My father said. “If that’s all right.”
In my mind that was more than all right, there wasn’t a better person for the job. “Absolutely,” I said. “Do we know who they are?”
Frank replied, “Has to be the types roaming the countryside. Causing more destruction to get what they want.”
“Do we think they’re connected?” I asked.
My father answered, “Should we assume they aren’t. Hell, we have radios, they can do. Right?”
“Right.” I took a moment to think “Frank, first plan of action.”
“Name them.”
Both my father rand I gave him odd glances.
After rubbing his temple, my father said. “I know I’m just gonna kick myself for this, but why are we naming them, Frank?”
“So we know what we’re talking about.”
“Christ.” My father mumbled.
“No, Dad, hear me out. It’s easier to just give them a name. That way when we’re over the radio, we know what we’re referencing. If they are monitoring our transmission, we don’t want to say. Hey we spotted a gang of those Mad Max Wanna be’s. Or Men on Bikes. They’ll know we’re talking about them. Be on to our plan.”
“Not if we use a secure channel,” I said. “But, what do you have in mind.”
Frank took a thinking breath, and rubbed his chin. “What about Mobs. Men on Bikes.”
“So you think an acronym?” My father asked.
“Yeah. But …” Frank shook his head. “No. Mobs are just as bad as saying what they are. Oh! Oh!” he snapped his finger. “I got it.”
“What?” my father asked.
“Fags.” Frank nodded proudly.
“Fags?” I asked. “Fags.”
“Fags. Forceful aggressive gang.” Frank replied. “What do you think?”
I repeated. “Fags.”
“Yep.”
“No.” I said.
“Why?”
“I’m not gonna go on the radio and say we have Fags up ahead.”
“Yeah, Hal it means something else, too. Get it?”
“Yes. But unless you don’t realize it Frank, that’s derogatory for gay.”
“Yeah, Hal, I do. I’m not stupid. That’s why it was so good,” Frank said. “But, uh, like you said. We had a nuclear war. There aren’t any gay people left. So it won’t work, they’ll now there aren’t gay people infiltrating us.”
My father saw me ready to speak, and he held his hand to me. “Frank.” He spoke calmly. “You honestly think the nuclear warheads killed all the gay people.”
“It’s possible.”
I closed my eyes “Father you assured me he did not ride the short bus in school.”
“I lied.” My father said. “Forget it Frank. We’re not calling them fags. Let’s just take time …”
“Oh, I got it. This one’s brilliant.”
My brother was using the word brilliant to describe his thinking. It was going to be good. “Go on, what now?”
“Ok. We want an acronym. We want a name that would throw them off. Ready.” Frank held out his hand in a marquee fashion. “Killer Individuals Driven for Survival. Kids.”
I was about to say something sarcastic. But I refrained.
“Kids. They’ll never know,” Frank said. “Never. If we do run into a bunch of children. We’ll say children. But if we say over the radio we have kids in scope. They’ll be fucking clueless.”
I had to give it to my brother. It was a good one. In order to move on, we settled on the name for the time being. We had more to discuss, we had the rebels, or KIDS to deal with. Because by the evidence my father and Frank told me about in the resort, they were gathering above us more frequent.
Trouble wasn’t just possible it was brewing and imminent, and I had no doubt, that we would be ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
There was something about my family. We all had this internal, gut instinct that was rarely wrong. Each of us had it in a different field. My father saw the tiniest bits of evidence that our resort was being visited.
He had that gut instinct.
Frank immediately implemented his safeguard plan for the bunker.
He secured off the North, South, and East tunnels, making it impossible for anyone to access them from outside, yet easy for us to use as an escape route should it be needed.
He allowed the West tunnel to serve as our main tunnel. There was a reason for it. The outside entrance was two wooden door at the end of a long concrete driveway hard to hide, and it led to
the main vault. We used that tunnel for leaving. Mainly because in case we were being watched we didn’t want them to see a secondary way in.
Finally the buses were ready to roll, and I was going to drive one, my father the other. Frank and Ray would come along as back up security.
Henry had just rolled the first bus outside when he spotted something suspicious in croquet area of the resort.
Within minutes of him calling it in, from all angles, at least fifty men on motorcycles arrived. All of them armed, all of them headed in the same direction. The West tunnel.
Henry called it in.
“We have kids heading west,” Henry said.
That’s when I truly got to see it. My brother in his hero glory. Calm and cool, Frank had a plan. He handed me my weapon in the armory, stating, I probably wouldn’t need it.
He had a twinkle in his eye, almost as if it were Christmas. He had one rifle, but as we left he handed me a gas mask.
“You know the routine,” he said.
Actually, I knew the military routine. I didn’t know Frank’s. I also did know my big brother had it all planned out.
He led me out the main vault door. I could hear the motorcycles coming. It was seconds. Maybe.
He ordered Henry to secure the outer door, then he told Marcus to ‘hit it’. Upon his command, the lights it he tunnel went out, all emergency lights failed to work, and we were in the dark.
“Hal, mask.”
I secured my mask over my head.
“Against the wall.”
What wall?? I couldn’t see. I backed up until I hit something.
Headlights.
Motor noises.
They were coming full force to our front door. As I knew they would have to stop. They couldn’t break down the vault door with motorcycles.
Where was Frank?
Just as the first batch of cycles hit, I heard it.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The sparks lit up the tunnel with a green illumination, and I could see the smoke.
“Watch out!” Frank ordered.
And I knew what he met. In the glowing of the explosions I saw one cycle plow to its side as the driver passed out. The bike skid my way and I had to back up quickly.
I could hear, bikes dripping, squealing, crashing.
“Ready!” Frank called out. “Now, Marcus.”
The lights went on, and Frank open fired. I joined him.
We had taken out about fifteen motorcycle riders, before there were no more coming. I followed my brother in his rush of charge into the remainder of the tunnel.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t question why he killed them straight away. He made the decision to take them out.
What if they weren’t there for malice?
Frank simply stated, if they were there for a good reason, they wouldn’t have stormed the tunnel.
He was right.
The situation was under control in less than ten minutes.
It was then I realized, my Frank was the best person to insure our sanctuary stayed just that. A sanctuary.
Even though it was time to leave to get the submarine occupants, because of the sneak attack, Frank stayed behind, just to be on the safe side. My father joined us on the rescue just in case there was trouble.
I hoped not. But we didn’t know.
The trip to Washington DC would take about two hours. It was going to be a very long two hours. Not only did we have miles of barren highway to drive, but we had the uncertainty of what could be riding on those highways. Not only that, there was an unsettling feeling about viewing Washington DC. After all, it was our nation’s capital. A symbol of our democracy. Seeing it in less than all its glory was probably one of the most disturbing thoughts I had.
It was a music I had no choice but to face.
***
I thought it was a twisted irony that America’s new wonder bomb was the type of bomb used to wipe out our nation’s capital. Perhaps it was the enemy’s way of saying something. Or maybe the enemy wanted to preserve the capitol when they tromped our soil.
We all could think pushing the button would lead to the ultimate victory, but there was no winning this war. No land invasion from a foreign country, when the bombs stopped, they stopped. Destruction complete. In my opinion, which was just based on what I witnessed, both sides were too consumed with their own damage to think any further about war.
We destroyed ourselves, now we had to concentrate on rebuilding ourselves and our countries.
I knew it would happen.
The highways around Washington DC were crammed.
We took the back ways into the city, as we planned to. I knew as soon as I saw the top of the Washington Monument what had happened.
Henry’s comment of, “It wasn’t hit,” was ignorance of weapons.
“The bodies,” Ray said over the radio. “You had to see the bodies in the car.”
The bodies in the cars.
People leaving the city. There were very few car doors open; most cars were crashed into each other, driven off the side of the road. The bodies had progressed so far in decomposition that it was hard to tell how they died.
I thought immediately it was a chemical weapon. Until I saw the Washington Monument.
The top of the towering object was black.
Black from being burned.
No other structure had it. In fact, no other structure was destroyed.
It was obvious that a thermobaric bomb was used. A high concentrated. I thought it was the Air Force’s bad boy, obviously others had it.
The bomb exploded above its target, and the fire ball sucked all oxygen out of the air without causing too much structure damage.
A few black spots here and there, but DC remained intact.
Driving through it was evident an evacuation had taken place, but it still didn’t stop us from seeing the bodies. Bodies that had just dropped in the midst of what they were doing.
Hating to admit it, but if DC was going to be hit, the way it was done, was perfect.
It was in a sense preserved.
We radioed the sub when we entered into the city. We expected the crew to be ashore, we didn’t want them in the radiation too long. What I wasn’t ready for, was the sight of them.
Multitudes of men.
You don’t realize how many people 100 is until you haven’t seen that many in a long time.
We greeted them with enthusiasm as if they were long lost family.
We welcomed them.
They were truly a sign of hope and a sign that we, as Americans, like the crew of the submarine, would rise above it all.
***
The entire retrieval process took six hours and brought us back quickly to the bunker. Processing on the other hand, took some time. Although, we were pretty organized. Marcus and I had taken all the crew names, rank, and divided everyone into Dorm rooms, so they had room assignments when they arrived.
But even with how organized we were, it still took a long time. They had their belongings, their supplies.
Luella again was a bright spot, looking forward to working with their galley man on rationing, cooking, and being creative.
She definitely couldn’t do it alone anymore; we were pushing 200 people in the bunker. She had her own crew. All she asked was that I informed the submarine cook that it as her kitchen.
He chuckled, said he’d happily work under her command, and the two seemed to pair off nicely.
I figured a woman with as much experience as Luella had a lot to teach the young man.
Stan worried. He was concerned about water. But, we did as he asked and secured two huge tanks to the tops of the buses. He would fill them with water and that would help.
Long term planning though, he said.
The hydroponics system would need to be expanded.
Frank had looked over the crew sheet while we were out. After complaining about my handwriting, he broke it down and claimed his men before meeting them.
/> I thought he was ridiculous needing twenty men. He picked thirty and dismissed ten.
Twenty men.
But after hearing him out, and seeing what he had in mind for schedules, again, my brother was right on.
It was a long day. I stayed so busy; I barely spoke to my boys or Ellen. Truth be known, myself, my father, Frank, Stan, Ray, and Marcus were just overwhelmed. But it was a good feeling.
Luella saved us all dinner, and we dined with the submarine’s new captain. A late night meal that was followed with an night cap.
The partiers were still at it. Not as strong as the first night, but there, singing karaoke and drinking.
Now they had even more people.
My father wanted to expand The Fall out. After all we weren’t using the room next to it either.
My body ached, my head buzzed a little from drinking too fast, and I returned to my room.
I was surprised to find Ellen there.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I was doing some corrections for you.” She sat in front of my computer.
“No, not at all.”
“Oh, good.” She exhaled. “I figured with all these bodies, you Hal, right now are the only source of new reading material.”
I smiled.
“But, I’m finished. I’ll do more tomorrow. How are you?”
“Exhausted,” I told her, kissing her softly. “Everything is done. I think.”
“If it’s not, you’ll get it done tomorrow.”
It wasn’t Einstein advice, however, I was thrilled over it. There was something about that moment that I loved. I reached out and squeezed her hand. She was there. I came home to someone, and it felt good.
We talked a bit more and then we retired. Ellen surprised me by staying in my room with me. She said she was cold, I think she used that as an excuse because she just wanted to stay.
We laid together in exhaustion and in mostly quiet. Ellen fell asleep first, and I spooned up behind her. My hand rested on her hip, and as I pulled her closer, sliding my hand across her abdomen, I paused.
My fingers spread across her belly.
I couldn’t feel anything. But I swear at that moment, I could sense our child.
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