Greek Island

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Our child.

  The thought of that comforted me and I brought her in closer.

  We were nearly three months into the post war. Three months. There was still a lot to do, but a lot had occurred. More than I imagined in a post nuclear war world.

  It was a good day. A day that gave a bright outlook to a better tomorrow.

  The rescue of the submarine crew, them joining us, the organization, the structure building, the buzz of work, and the woman I loved in my arms.

  All of them were deep reiterations that it didn’t matter what happened, life prevails and life goes on.

  I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I couldn’t help but overhear them talking. Ray and Frank. It was always amusing, but on this day, it was unnerving.

  “But would there be one,” Frank said. “Seriously.”

  “What?” Ray snapped. “Of course there’d be one. What kind of society would it be if we didn’t have a memorial day?”

  “But should it be now?” Frank asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” Ray said. “Tomorrow is the last Monday in May. May 28th. That would be Memorial Day. When else should it be?”

  “August 26th.”

  I looked over as I sat there on that chair, placed in the hall with two others for my benefit outside the clinic. Ray even paused.

  “Good huh?” Frank asked with a nod.

  “No. Memorial Day is Memorial Day. We can have August 26th be something else. We’ll call it something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Just …”

  “Can…” My one word stopped Ray. “Can you two have this inane conversation another time or at least another place?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ray asked.

  I just answered him with a stare.

  “What?” Ray asked again?

  “Have you been hanging out with my brother too much?” I shook my head.

  “Captain.” Marcus called my name, and walked down the hall. “From Greg.” He handed me several sheets of paper. Seven more. Makes fifteen all together.”

  “I can count,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Marcus asked.

  Ray answered. “He’s pissy.”

  “Ah.” Marcus nodded his understanding.

  I read the sheets. “How the hell did they know what was going on?”

  Marcus replied, “Greg made an all call out to all of our outer camps.” He smiled proudly. “Captain, Ellen is giving birth. Do you realize this is the first child born? This is big news everyone’s waiting to see if the child is fine.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked.

  “Well, Hal,” Frank said. “It is your kid. Anything could be wrong with it.”

  “You’re an asshole, Frank.” I shook my head, elbows on my knees and saw my father walk from the clinic.

  “Coffee,” My father said and walked down the hall.

  I huffed. Watching him disappear. “This is retarded.” I stood up.

  “Yeah,” Frank said.

  “What is this? 1950 where the father must wait in a pseudo waiting room?”

  “Yeah,” Frank repeated.

  “I’m going in there.”

  “Me, too.”

  In my first step, I stopped. “No.” I told him. ‘You’re the reason we got thrown out.”

  “I’ll be good.”

  “You’ll stay here,” I ordered. Confident and I suppose, Naive, I walked to the back area where they had Ellen.

  She was in labor.

  For the first time she was alone.

  I don’t know what I expected; perhaps Ellen would be glad to see me. Maybe it was the pain that caused the sneer she delivered.

  “Where’s ... where’s Joe?” she asked.

  “Getting coffee,” I said and stepped to the bed. “How are …”

  “Out.” She ordered.

  “El?” I was shocked, and then I noticed her directive wasn’t to me.

  “Out.” She repeated.

  I looked behind me.

  Frank stood there.

  I spun. “Why are you here?”

  “Man, she’s having a baby and I’m just concerned.” He stopped in further. “El, fuck, was your stomach that big an hour ago.”

  Ellen gurgled a scream of frustration, then blasted. “Out! Help! Joe!”

  I was trying to calm the situation, but before I could, Frank had lunged to the bed and placed his huge hand over her mouth.

  “Good God, Frank.” I reached for his hand. “What is wrong with you?’

  “She’ll get us thrown … ow!” he whipped back his hand. “She bit me.”

  As if she were possessed, Ellen sprang forward. Her throat veiny, face red. “I’m having Joe shoot you.” She glared at Frank.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Out.” She repeated.

  He waved her off. Waved her off and looked at the monitoring system. “So the higher the numbers go the more pain? Fuck”

  “Joe!” Ellen cried out.

  Before I could interject or Frank could cover her mouth again, my father stormed in.

  “Goddamn son of a bitch bastard. Both of you out!” he ordered. “How many times do you have to be told? Huh?”

  Innocently I asked. “I don’t understand why I am being punished for Frank’s big mouth.”

  “You’re not,” my father replied. “You’re being punished for doing this to her. Out. Or do I have to call Mary Agnes?”

  The sound of the name Mary Agnes didn’t frighten Frank, or me, but I didn’t want to deal with her, so I left wishing Ellen the best before I did.

  Frank did leave with me. It was my father pulling out the revolver that did that.

  We passed Dr. Parsons in the hall, the submarine doctor; he snickered at us with a shake of his head.

  Frank called him an asshole.

  And like two punished children we returned to the makeshift waiting room in the hall outside the clinic.

  Two hours later, the hall was packed; it seemed everyone was lining up, waiting for the news.

  I wanted to be in there. I really did. But a part of me wanted to wait in the hall.

  The event was significant. It was the first child born. In the near nine months since the attack, 17 different camps emerged with survivors, we were all in constant contact, passing information back and forth and making plans for the future.

  But the future was beginning right there in our bunker.

  When I saw my father emerged wearing hospital scrubs, I knew.

  He had a proud look on his face, a gloss over to his eyes, and a grin wide. “Ellen is great. Mary Agnes said to wait here till she gets us.” He walked to me and embraced me. “Son of a bitch, Hal. You have a daughter.”

  My hand shot to my chest. “A daughter?”

  “Little thing. Five pounds. Early, but good. Healthy as a horse.”

  I shrieked and grabbed my father, then my brother. “I have a daughter!” I shouted.

  My father then said, “And a son.”

  I stopped. The cheers in the hall ceased immediately, and I spun to my dad. “A son?”

  Frank questioned. “Which is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “A boy or a girl?” Frank asked again.

  “Frank …” I tried to interject.

  ‘Yes,” My father repeated. “Both.”

  “You can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” Questioned Frank.

  “Frank,” my father snapped. “It’s both.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. “Fuck,” he wisped out. “Fuck. It’s both.”

  My father seemed distressed by his comment, as was I.

  “Frank?” I asked. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s both.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s a mutant. Fuckin nuclear war. Fuck. I’m sorry, Hal.”

  It took me a second. “What? Frank. No it’s both. It’s a boy and a girl
.”

  “And you see nothing wrong with that?” Frank asked. “Wait. Stop. Neither do I.”

  “Thank God,” I exhaled.

  “Yeah,” Frank nodded and gave me a hug. “I’ll love it no matter what. It’s family. Right Dad?”

  My father stared at him, and then calmly said “You’re a moron Frank.”

  “What?” Frank sputtered in his clueless manner.

  My father barked. “It’s not a hermaphrodite, you asshole. It’s twins.”

  “Twins? Whoa. Two?” Frank held up two fingers.

  After a roll of my eyes, I answered, “That’s usually what twins means, Frank.”

  “Two.” Frank grinned. “Oh, Hal, let me have one.”

  “What!” I snapped. “No!”

  “Come on, please. You don’t need two. Let me have one. The boy.”

  He was serious. “Frank. No.”

  “Dad, tell him.” Frank insisted.

  My father shrugged. “Hal, I think you should.”

  I blasted a repeated, ‘what’ aft my father until I saw him grin. He was joking. But the joke didn’t help matters, Frank considered that permission from our father, how in Frank’s mind outranked me all the way around, even over my own children.

  ‘Dad said,’ he kept repeating.

  It was annoying, yes. But even all the annoyances of my dense brother washed away the second I saw my children. They were tiny and perfect. We as a family, my father, myself, and Frank, brought the babies into the hall to show them off.

  Why not.

  The first post war generation. The first newborns to cry out in a different world.

  My instant love for them overwhelmed me. And as I held my children for the first time, I knew I had it in me. I would fight, struggle and strive, I’d do it. Whatever it tool. I held all the reason in the world to do what I could to make a better future for us all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Five Years Later …

  It was hot.

  August always was. The Navy pilots that were aboard the submarine seemed to fly regular planes like they did their jets. Fast and out of control.

  One would think after five years they’d get better at it.

  Then again, they flew all the time. All six of them.

  They were the big source of transportation between the main provinces.

  Provinces. The United States of America was broken down into provinces. Five to be exact.

  Admittedly, I didn’t think that would occur. Just after the first anniversary of the war, we lost all contact with the president of the United States. Only to find out a month or so later, he had died.

  The seventeen survivor camps scrambled and a lot of them started to panic. Wondering what would become of them.

  Up to the plate stepped my father.

  Like I expected anything less.

  He was able to get in contact with the Chief of Staff, and together, they assured the camps, that we would emerge and continue on as a nation. It would just take time.

  Time.

  Within another six months, the remaining subs were located and called to port.

  Called home.

  They made contact with several military survival stations that were awaiting word, as well.

  It took two years for radiation to cease and desist. Two years.

  When that occurred, we emerged from our shelters, our ashes, and emerged to a reorganization plan that my father had already started to implement.

  Everyone had a job and everyone did their part.

  My part worked out best for me.

  I began a wonderful life with Ellen and our children, one that my brother made impossible. He’d interfere and against what I had wished, he demonstrated how much control he had over the woman he stated he had loved his entire life.

  The stress of it all caused Ellen and me to stop as a couple.

  We remained close, and friends, I wished it would have turned out better.

  She moved on with my father to Montana to the main ‘City’ as we called it. The new Capitol. I went out there frequently, courtesy of our airlines. I would eventually move out there myself when my job was done.

  I stayed behind in West Virginia and did that job.

  In fact, Mary Agnes, Ray and Marcus stayed behind, part of the skeleton crew, who worked the radios, monitored communication, and looked for survivors.

  We were the Survival Retrieval station. Working out of the bunker and living in sections of the resort.

  Search, rescue, and cure if needed.

  We determined where they would go, and did that by how they best could contribute to society.

  We had to work with a lot of survivors. Retrain them to live in society. That was part of our job.

  We did it well.

  For post war years three and four, it was non stop. A day didn’t go by without locating someone. Either by the radio or by a search crew.

  But the last year went slow.

  We awaited the word and the day when we could finally pack up and leave.

  Leave the bunker and go to our new home.

  When that would be, I didn’t know. My father would give the word, and my father just wasn’t giving up on finding people. Even though it had been six months since we located a single survivor. He just didn’t want to concede to the fact we may had found all that were to be found.

  I had just returned from our Colorado camp, and was a bit queasy. The heat and bad flying didn’t help.

  I just wanted to be left alone, but I knew that wouldn’t happen.

  Knock-Knock-Knock.

  I looked up,

  Marcus walked inside, “Hey, Captain, it’s the 26th. What’s the word?”

  “Ray hasn’t even been in yet. I’ll get a hold of him to do it.”

  “Then you’ll come to the rec room and tell us?” he asked.

  “As I always do.”

  Then Marcus did something he rarely did upon exit. He smiled … widely, too. “I have a good feeling today, Captain,” he said. “A really good feeling. This is the day.”

  “Last month …”

  “Yes, but it showed promise. Right?”

  I nodded.

  “And it’s the 26th.”

  I chuckled. “You’ve said that.”

  “No, it’s August 26th. Today’s the day.” He hit his fist against his chest. “I feel it. I really feel it.”

  I only nodded with a forced smile, and then Marcus closed the door.

  I lifted the radio from my counter-desk top, and depressed the button. “Ray, come in, over.”

  “Yeah, Captain, I hear you.” Ray’s replied.

  “It’s the 26th, Ray, over.”

  “Yep, I know. I was waiting for the call.”

  “Did you take care of it? Over.”

  “Not yet. Was waiting for you to give the go ahead.”

  “You got your go ahead. See me when you’ve got it. Out.”

  I tapped my fingers in an arpeggio manner. I hoped in my mind, but felt in my heart that it wasn’t going to happen.

  I ceased being the one to ask my father. He was more prone to get annoyed and yell at me. Ray handled it, because when Ray asked if it was time, my father politely responded. “Not yet. Give it another month.”

  When I asked, he told me, “Christ, Hal, patience.”

  Patience.

  It was running thin, but then again, I volunteered for the mission.

  I just wanted to leave and live with my children.

  How long did I sit there staring at my fingers, listening to the sound of my own finger-tapping drum beat.

  Longer than I thought.

  Another knock at the door.

  I wanted to blast Marcus for knocking again, but I didn’t.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door opened and Ray stepped inside. He was catching his breath.

  “Ray?” I stopped rocking in my chair, and stood up.

  “I ran all the way here,” Ray said and heaved in a breath.
“Captain, I just spoke to your father.”

  “And?”

  Ray smiled.

  I didn’t need to hear anymore, a shouted out the biggest; ‘Yes!’ that ever emerged from my mouth. Ray and I embraced as if our team had one a championship game.

  I, too, had to catch my breath.

  “Joe said to get out shit together, fuel up the plane …” Ray smiled again. “And come home.”

  “Home.” I repeated the phrased and tried to slow my heartbeat. “Let’s tell the others the good news shall we?”

  Ray nodded.

  I placed my arm around Ray and gave a jolt of enthusiasm as we left my office.

  We walked taller down the hallway. We arrived at the recreation room to our skeleton crew who all stood when they saw us.

  Marcus stepped forward. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

  My answer was a nod.

  “We’re leaving?” he asked.

  I gave another nod.

  Exuberant cheers filled the room. It reminded me of the day we informed everyone that radiation levels had fallen.

  We celebrated, but didn’t waste any time. Why would we? We had been there five years, living in a constant reminder of all that happened to the world. Staying behind while the rest of our country rebuild, grew, and thrived.

  Kept in the dark, kept in the past.

  Not for long.

  Once and for all, we were leaving.

  And like everyone else we knew and loved, we were moving forward.

  Once and for all.

  A new beginning.

  ++++

  The following are actual pictures taken in the real Greek Island bunker. Enjoy.

  They are as follows:

  The Bunker - Construction plans of bunker

  Main Hall

  Dormitory

  West Entrance vault door

  Hospital

  Cafeteria

  Food storage

  Radio Communications