Survive (Day 1)

by A. R. Wise

  “I doubt it,” said Porter. “That’s why I’m showing you this. I figure if I’m not going to be here to use it, you and your family might as well be safe.”

  “Do you really think it’s going to be that bad?” asked Kyle as if this was the first time he truly considered it a possibility.

  “If this CME’s as strong as they say, the world’s about to get a whole lot more dangerous. Power’ll go out. Fuel will disappear. Food won’t get delivered. We’re on the razor’s edge.”

  “Razor’s edge of what?”

  “The apocalypse,” said Porter.

  “Oh come on, man. You can’t be…” Kyle’s humor faded when he saw Porter’s expression. “Serious.” Kyle straightened his posture, stroked his cheek, and gazed up at the sun. “Holy shit. Is it really that bad?”

  “For everyone else, yeah, but not for you.” He clasped his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “You and your family are going to be fine. Come on down and I’ll show you where everything’s at.” He led the way, cautiously traversing the steep staircase.

  First Porter gave Kyle a tour of the bunker, from the mud room to the kitchen, then the den to the bedroom, all in a straight line. The bunker was the length of a semi-trailer, but not as wide. There were hidden compartments to store food and weapons, although Porter had taken most of the guns. After the tour, Porter showed Kyle how to work the generator, and how the plumbing was hooked up to a sump pump. He explained that the rain drums on the surface provided gravity fed plumbing. Finally, he gave Kyle a supply chart that could be used to determine how many days they could survive without leaving the shelter.

  78 days.

  “I wish it was longer,” said Porter. “But you’ve got the garden above. Try to use it as much as possible. That’ll make the supplies last longer.”

  “This must’ve cost you a fortune,” said Kyle.

  Porter nodded as he gazed around the bunker. “Would’ve been worth it.” He turned his attention back to Kyle and forced a smile. “I’m happy you and your family will get some use out of it.”

  “Bad timing for your wife and kids to go on vacation.”

  Porter nodded.

  “Did they go to visit family or something?” asked Kyle.

  “Yep,” said Porter. He turned to leave. Kyle didn’t have the chance to ask a more probing question about why Porter’s family was in Texas.

  Porter led the way to the surface. The sun’s blazing, blinding rays struck them. Hot on his skin. A normal, sunny Colorado day. Meanwhile, a burst of plasma and a magnetic field hurtled at them at more than a million miles an hour.

  He closed the bunker’s entrance, locked it, and then gave Kyle the key.

  “Thanks for this,” said Kyle. “Really, man. I don’t know what to say. I hope… I hope I don’t need it. I hope you’re wrong about how bad it could get.” He let forth an uncomfortable chuckle, and then bit his lip before saying, “Give Mary and the kids my best.”

  “I will,” said Porter.

  Kyle lingered with an awkward smile. He seemed apprehensive to leave. How does someone say goodbye to the person who just saved their family’s lives? He nodded, and then gripped the key tight in his palm. He said, “Thanks,” before leaving.

  Porter stayed behind. He inspected the garden’s irrigation system, and then some of the produce. He’d been busy all day, preparing for an unexpected, dangerous trip. This was the first chance he had to reflect.

  He plucked a fat tomato from a vine and smelled it, experiencing the unique aroma, so full of life. A gentle breeze rustled the stalks of corn, and inspired a blackbird to take flight across the expanse of Porter’s acreage, swooping low to the ground with its wingspan fully stretched before rising in a dramatic arch to reach the peak of the house. It settled, cleaned its beak, and then stared at the garden. It cawed and snapped its beak while cocking its head so that its black eye faced Porter.

  “What’re you doing back here?” asked Red as he entered the garden.

  “Just thinking.” Porter rolled the healthy, blood red tomato in his hand.

  “Uh oh. Should I call the doctor? You feeling all right? Do you need to sit down for a bit?”

  He ignored his brother’s jibe. “I can’t believe it’s going down like this. Now, of all times. A week ago Mary and the boys would’ve still been here. They would’ve been safe. Now…” He groaned, sighed, and shook his head.

  “Murphy’s law, bro. It always goes down that way.”

  “All this work.” Porter gave a pained laugh. “And look at the two of us, headed back to Texas of all places. God’s got a real sadistic sense of humor.”

  “Yeah, speaking of that.” Red had the tone of a person with a secret he needed to share.

  “What?” asked Porter.

  “There’ll be three of us. We’re picking up June.”

  “June who?”

  “My girlfriend, June. You know, the one with the blonde hair.”

  Porter had no clue who he was talking about.

  “About this tall,” Red held his hand up to his shoulder. “Skinny. Wears sunglasses all the time. Tattoos on her arms and neck.”

  Porter’s expression was a mix of frustration and bewilderment.

  “I brought her to your barbeque last month.”

  “Wait,” said Porter as he began to recall the girl his brother was talking about. “The blonde? I thought you were dating the other one. Her friend. The one with black hair.”

  “I was,” said Red. “But you know how it goes.”

  “Hold on.” Porter shook his head vigorously, grimaced, and then chastised his brother, “You’re dating the blonde one now? And you want to bring her? Come on, man.”

  “What? She’s here by herself. Her family’s all the way out in Maine. And after I broke up with Stephanie, the two of them haven’t been on good terms. June’s got no one out here.” Red and Porter started speaking over one another, “You can’t expect me to…”

  “If you were dating her friend at the barbeque, then how long have you two even been together?”

  Red shrugged and said, “A couple weeks.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “I’m not leaving her here by herself,” said Red.

  “What’re you going to do in,” Porter sarcastically checked his watch, “two and a half days when you decide to dump her?”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “We all know how you are at relationships,” said Porter. “Two weeks together? She’s reaching her shelf life, bud. Better just throw this one out now and get a new one when we get to Texas.”

  “Sit and spin,” said Red as he gave his brother the finger.

  Porter’s hand dripped with the juice of the tomato he’d inadvertently squeezed. He tossed the produce to the ground, and shook his hand clean as he said, “Are you really going to drag this poor girl all the way to Texas with us? Does that make any sort of sense at all? Wouldn’t she be better off staying where she’s at? Think about it.”

  “I did think about it,” said Red. “She could stay here, or she could come with me and my survivalist brother who’s spent his whole damn life prepping for exactly what’s about to happen.”

  Porter didn’t have a comeback.

  “She’s safer with us. Besides, it’s my Jeep we’re taking. You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Day One – 6:50pm

  Red’s Jeep was packed with supplies, but Porter wanted to bring more. He had another duffle bag ready to go. The Jeep’s fabric roof had been supported by planks of plywood fastened with straps, and there were a variety of suitcases on it that were then sandwiched flat by a second layer of plywood. Atop the second layer, standing high, were rows of full gas cans strapped tightly together.

  “There’s no room,” said Red.

  “There’s some room left.”

  “We need that room for June’s things.”

  Porter looked at the empty seat in the back where June was supposed to sit.

 
; Red followed his gaze. “No. We’ve been over this.”

  “She can hold it on her lap.”

  “You’re already forcing her to keep a bag of guns down at her feet. I’m not going to make her carry stuff in her lap too. What’s in the bag that’s so important?”

  “Extra sternos, jerky, a few knives…”

  “We’ve already got all that stuff packed in there.” Red pointed to the overloaded back of the Jeep.

  “We’re going to need as much as we can bring,” said Porter.

  “If you want to bring that stuff, then you’re going to have to get rid of something else.”

  “Like what?” asked Porter.

  “How about we take the gas cans off the roof so we’re not driving a firebomb down the highway?”

  “The gas cans?” asked Porter as if it was an insult. “We need those more than anything else. The first thing that’s going to run out is the gas. Where are we supposed to get gas from when they stop delivering it?”

  “Do we need that much?” asked Red as he looked at the multiple gas cans.

  “Yes. Matter of fact, we’ll need a lot more than that. We’ve got a thousand miles to drive. And your Jeep’s not getting more than, what, twenty miles a gallon highway? At that rate, we’d need fifty gallons to get where we’re going. And I promise you the roads will be packed. We’ll be lucky to get ten miles a gallon. Not to mention the added weight of the supplies. That’ll bring the gas mileage down even more. At that rate we won’t make it out of the state before we’re dry.”

  “Fine,” said Red, swiftly conceding before rolling his eyes and turning away.

  Red always did that. Ever since he was a kid, he would react to Porter’s lectures with a dismissive roll of his eyes and a shrug.

  “No, it’s not fine,” said Porter. “You need to start taking this more seriously.”

  “Dude, the last thing I need right now is a lecture. All right?”

  “Maybe you do need one.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Red definitively.

  “That’s always been your problem. You fly by the seat of your pants and…”

  Red nearly shouted, “Really? Now?” He forced himself to calm down a bit, took a breath, and then continued. “You’re going to start acting like this already? We haven’t even hit the road yet and you’re…” He stopped, shook his head, and said, “Whatever man. Let’s just get going before you piss me off enough to stay behind.”

  “Hey,” said Porter as he breached the gap between them. Red didn’t want to talk anymore, and started to walk away. Porter grabbed his shoulders and forced his brother to face him. “Listen. I’m not…” He struggled to keep his brother from breaking free. “I know you and me have history, or whatever. I know I’ve… Listen to me.” He again forced his brother to stay where he was. Porter was stronger than Red, and always had been. He pinned Red against the Jeep, and his younger brother glared at him. The minor confrontation had escalated, which was common for them. Porter understood he had to calm the situation. “I know I’ve been a pain in your ass. I’ve given you a bunch of reasons to hate me. I get it. But this is different, Red. This is… It’s is as real as it gets. I’m not trying to preach at you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” said Red. “But do you really have to start a fight twenty minutes after I get here? Over fucking gas cans?”

  The two glared at one another, and then Porter’s stern countenance was broken by a grin. “Yeah, I do.” He laughed, a stark counter to his previous anger. He waited for his brother’s scowl to subside, and then added, “You know me, I fight about everything.”

  Red nodded, smiled, and said, “You sure the fuck do, man.” They ended their brief confrontation. Red straightened his shirt, shook his head, and then pushed Porter’s shoulder. “Big dumb asshole. World’s coming to an end and you want to fight about gas mileage.”

  “I just want you to take this seriously.”

  “I do,” said Red. “Between you and Dad, I’ve been hearing about how something like this was going to happen my whole damn life.”

  “Dad wasn’t right about much,” said Porter. “But he was right about this.”

  Red paused in momentary contemplation, and then asked, “Have you tried to call him?”

  “Dad?” asked Porter as if the question was a surprise. “Hell no. Did you?”

  Red echoed his brother, “Hell no.”

  They got in the Jeep, and prepared to leave. The sun had already gone down behind the mountains, leaving the sky to fade slowly into night.

  Porter was about to recommend that they place their phones in the EMP-protective case that he brought, but then he paused, stared at his phone, and said, “I probably should.”

  “Should what?” asked Red.

  “Call Dad. I should at least try.”

  “Why?” asked Red, befuddled.

  “Because Mary and the kids are twenty miles from his house. If the shit hits the fan, he could go get them. He could help keep them safe.”

  “You really want to do that to them?” asked Red, only half-joking. “I think I’d rather die than accept that fucker’s help.”

  “I know,” said Porter. “But…” He stared at his cell phone as if the inanimate object might offer an answer. He found a way to reason with himself, “I haven’t been able to get a call to go through all day anyways. What’re the chances it works this time?”

  “Are you really going to call him?” asked Red, stunned.

  It was the first time he’d dialed the number since their mother died. He switched it to speaker so Red could hear.

  The phone didn’t make a sound, and Porter was certain the call would fail. Any second the operator would apologize that the call couldn’t be completed at this time. Red and Porter waited in silence, and then the ringing began. The call had connected.

  “Oh boy,” murmured Red.

  A couple more ominous rings. Porter didn’t know if he wanted his father to pick up or not.

  “Hello,” answered a familiar voice from a past both the brothers had worked hard to forget.

  “Hey Dad,” said Porter.

  There was an extended pause.

  “Holy shit,” said Smitty Jay Law, stretching the curse out as if to savor it. “All it took was the end of the world. You doin’ all right? You prepared for this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s my boy. You always did have a good head on your shoulders. What about your brother?” asked Smitty. “Is he still living near you, or did he take off someplace else?”

  Porter looked at Red, wondering if his brother would respond since the phone was on speaker. There was a silent exchange between them. Red didn’t want to talk. He had nothing to say to the man they’d both walked away from so many years earlier.

  “He’s still around here,” said Porter. “I’ll watch over him.”

  “Good,” said Smitty. “What about Mary and the kids?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” said Porter. “Mary took the boys back to Texas.”

  “Oh really,” said Smitty. “What’d you do? Did she finally wise up and walk out?”

  Porter wasn’t about to give his father the satisfaction of the truth. “They’re visiting her family.”

  “In Gulfport?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m calling.”

  “You need my help,” said Smitty.

  Red shook his head in disgust. He mouthed a silent response for Porter’s benefit, ‘Smug fuck.’

  “Yeah,” said Porter. “Maybe.”

  “You want, I can go get ‘em now.”

  “No,” said Porter quicker than he should’ve. “Just…” He hated that this was happening. Asking his father for help felt like ripping what little pride he had left and shredding it. “If things get bad, real bad, go check in on them.”

  “I’d better go get ‘em now,” said Smitty, ignoring Porter. “No point waitin’.”

  “No, I don’t want you going over ther
e now. Just… Just if things get bad.”

  “They are getting bad, numbnuts. Didn’t I teach you anything? What’ve I been trying to tell you ever since you were… God damn it. You and that brother of yours, I swear to God. You never listened to a thing I said.”

  “I’m asking for your help, Dad,” said Porter loud enough to silence his father. “Will you help or not?”

  Another long pause, and Porter imagined his father’s righteous smile. “Of course I’ll help,” said Smitty. “Those are my grandkids. Of course I’ll take care of them, even if you haven’t let me see them since…”

  There was a poignant silence.

  Smitty cleared his throat. “Since too damn long. They’re still my blood.”

  “If things get bad, go to Mary’s parents’ house. Help them out. But only if things get bad. I don’t want you going there now.”

  Smitty didn’t respond.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” said Smitty. “You staying where you’re at, or you headed here?”

  After a moment’s reluctance, Porter said, “I’m headed there.”

  “Okay,” said Smitty. “You got enough gas? You’re going to need a lot of gas. Roads will be wall-to-wall cars. It’ll get bad out there pretty damn quick.”

  “I know,” said Porter. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you will be,” said Smitty with uncommon reverence, as if he might be giving his son a compliment. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  Porter hung up before either of them were forced to express any sort of loving goodbye.

  Red let out a long, seething sigh before reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the dash. “That sucked. I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing his voice again.”

  Porter reached over and stole the pack of cigarettes from his brother, crushed them in his big hand, and tossed them out of the Jeep’s window without saying a word about it. “He’ll take care of Mary and the boys,” said Porter. “That’s all that matters.”

  “You asshole,” said Red. “You owe me a new pack.”