by Harley Tate
The larger man hoisted up his belt and pointed again. “Your wife comes over babbling about how we’re all about to be nuked to smithereens, I come out here, and you’ve got a car in your driveway. How’d you get it to work?”
Andy shook his head. “The car doesn’t matter. What matters is the threat. Mimi’s right. There could be another attack anytime.”
Tom screwed up his face like he just chomped on a rotten pickle. “Another attack? Where did you hear that? A little voice in your head?”
Andy’s shoulders bunched. “No. The television.”
Tom took a step forward. “You’ve got a working TV? How?”
Leah eased into the conversation. She couldn’t stand there while this neighbor all but accosted Andy. “We ran into a man who used some ingenuity and a battery.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What Andy says is true. There are reports out of Los Angeles that a nuclear attack is coming. You need to take shelter.”
A woman hurried out from a house across the street, blonde hair up in a messy bun. She stopped beside Tom. “Honey, stop badgering Andy. Mimi’s just taking precautions.”
Tom didn’t even look at his wife. “She’s stirring up panic, is what she’s doing.”
The woman gave a placating smile in Andy’s direction. “What if she’s right? I mean this blackout is strange.”
“It’s got to have an explanation. There’s no way we’re under attack. This is the United States for God’s sake.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen. We’ve been bombed before.”
“Yeah, by a guy with a homemade bomb in the back of his truck or in a backpack. Not a nuclear bomb. That’s war.”
Leah didn’t say anything. She thought about what the reporter said on TV and how the network cut her feed in the middle of her warning. Did the government know who was responsible? Were they covering it up?
The West Coast must be in the grips of a widespread panic. If the news of the potential bombs was hitting television networks and internet media, then every city from Los Angeles and San Francisco to Seattle and Portland would be knee-deep in chaos. Traffic jams. Looting. Mass riots and violence.
She narrowed her eyes as Tom snorted in Andy’s direction. Neighbors turning on neighbors.
“Where are they launching from? North Korea?”
Andy answered with reluctance. “We don’t know.”
Tom shook his head. “Leave it to an emergency-room doctor to spread lies and panic.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You heard me.” Tom puffed out his chest. “You’re always going on about some risk or another. Last week it was the flu, this week it’s nuclear attack. You sound like a broken record.”
“Honey, please.” The woman tugged on her husband’s arm, but he shoved her off.
Leah tried to keep the rising anger out of her voice. “This isn’t made up. I watched the same news report. I talked to a patient in the ER who confirmed it. The blackout wasn’t from an accident or a storm. It was an EMP from a nuclear missile detonated up in the atmosphere.”
“What? Are you saying this wasn’t an accident?” A woman Leah hadn’t noticed rushed up from across the street and a handful of other neighbors followed. It was turning into a crowd.
She nodded. “I think so, yes.”
Murmurs rushed through the adults. A child tugged on a woman’s shirt. “Mommy, I’m sacred.”
The woman hoisted the little girl of three or four up into her arms. “It’s okay, Anna.”
“If only that were true.” Leah had to convince these people to take precautions.
Tom snorted. “You’re inciting a panic and we don’t even know who you are.”
Andy held out his hand. “Her name is Leah Walton. She’s an emergency-room nurse with me at Georgia Memorial.”
Leah glanced down at her scrubs. At least she could corroborate that. “I know it’s a shock, but please. Everyone needs to listen.”
“Does anyone know if we can access the basement of the community center?” Andy addressed Tom’s wife. “Becky, you’re on the HOA, do you know?”
She nodded. “I’m pretty sure we can through the main floor. But I don’t think it’s finished. The plans were changed before the building was built out. It might just be concrete.”
Andy nodded. “Concrete is good. The more between us and the atmosphere, the better.”
A person in the gathering crowd called out. “For what?”
“Fallout. We don’t want to be outside when the bomb goes off. We’re close enough to be inside the radiation plume.”
More murmurs, more heads shaking in disbelief.
“This isn’t the Cold War! We’re safe. No one can attack us here.”
Leah understood the reluctance to accept the horror of the situation, but she’d heard it enough to believe it. First the texts and messages from her husband, then the man in the ER and the burn victim on the street. The reporter confirmed it before her feed was cut.
She frowned. Some of the people shouting and talking and clutching their children had a point. Why weren’t there emergency alerts? She pulled out her phone. No service. Maybe they couldn’t get through.
Leah counted the hours. Almost seventeen since the man from the phone company told her about the cell towers. She had no reason to doubt his veracity. If the generators powering the working cell towers up and down the East Coast only had enough fuel for eight hours, then they ran out a long time ago.
For all they knew, alerts were going out all over the West Coast and people were hunkering down and preparing for the worst. They just couldn’t receive them in Atlanta.
She exhaled through her mouth. The longer they stayed outside, the more at risk they became. “All right!” Leah put on her nurse voice and cupped her hands around her mouth to project across the street. “All those interested, pack food, clothes, things to do. Anything you would want with you for a week underground.”
Andy’s neighbors fell silent and he filled the void. “Head to the community center. It will be the safest place to wait out the attack.”
“What if we can’t get in?”
“What if the bombs hit?”
“What about my parents across town?”
“My daughter’s at a friend’s house!”
Leah held up her hands against the rising panic. “Andy will figure out a way into the basement at the community center. I can’t help with the rest.”
Tom’s voice boomed out. “What if we don’t want to listen to a couple of crazy people?”
Andy shook his head. “You can come or not. No one is going to force you.”
Tom turned to his wife. “Come on, Becky. I’m tired of listening to these nuts.”
Becky hesitated. “What about the boys, Tom?”
He fixed her with a stare. “We aren’t going.”
She nodded. “All right.”
Watching the exchange between Tom and his wife spiked Leah’s blood pressure. If she wanted to come, that was her choice. Her husband could stay outside and absorb enough radiation for both of them.
As Becky turned to go, she glanced up at Leah.
“Come.” Leah mouthed the word, but Becky got it. She nodded before hurrying away.
Leah leaned closer to Andy. “I don’t like that guy.”
“Join the club.”
Mimi ran up to them, out of breath and panting. “I’ve told everyone I can down the street. Mary promised to tell everyone on the next street over. Brian’s hitting the rest of the neighborhood.”
“Do you think people will come?”
Mimi wiped the sheen of sweat off her brow. “Honestly? I don’t know. Half of them looked at me like I'd done too many drugs this morning.”
“The other half?”
“Probably losing it in their kitchens right now.”
Panic was better than apathy or denial. Leah motioned toward the house. “You need to get your things and get down there.”
Andy paused. �
�You should come with us.”
“I can’t. I have to get to my sister’s place.”
“Are you sure?” Mimi palmed her hips as she struggled to regain her breath. “We could use a level head like yours around here.”
“I know.” Leah turned back around and surveyed the street. Five houses down a couple ushered two small children out the front door with bags on their backs and a rolling wagon filled with food. At least they were being cautious.
The helper in her wanted to stay and get as many people to safety as possible. Leah grimaced with the weight of her decision. “I can’t. My sister needs me and my husband’s probably frantic with worry.”
Andy reached out and wrapped Leah up in a surprise hug. She inhaled against his shirt and launched into a coughing fit.
“You should probably change before you go. Mimi’s right, you do smell like an ashtray.”
Andy chuckled and pulled back. “Take care of yourself, Nurse Walton.”
“You, too, Doctor Phillips.” Leah smiled at both Andy and his wife before hurrying to the car.
She slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. There was no time to waste.
After starting the engine, Leah put the car in reverse and gripped the back of the seat. Tom stood across the street in his yard, arms folded and staring. She backed out and bumped over the sidewalk in front of his house.
As she put the car in drive, Leah faced forward. Tom and his doubt hovered in the rearview until she turned the corner and left Andy’s subdivision behind.
Chapter Twenty
LEAH
North Atlanta
Saturday, 5:25 p.m.
The thousandth stalled car blocked Leah’s route and she eased over the sidewalk and around it. With one eye on the clock and the other on the setting sun, she kept the car pointing northwest as best as possible. The sun slipped below the horizon and Leah frowned. In twenty minutes or so, she would be forced to use the headlights.
Obstacles would be harder to avoid and without a map, getting lost would be easy. The fifty-year-old car didn’t come with a compass. Finding her way to Hampton would be difficult.
I could stop for the night. Leah slowed and took stock of the area. Houses set back from the road, the occasional family out in the front yard playing tag or riding scooters in their driveways. A typical day.
She wanted to shout at them, force them all inside and somewhere safe. But she wasn’t safe. She was out on the road trying to outrun impending disaster. Leah glanced at a street sign as she crossed an intersection. How far from downtown had she traveled?
Eight miles? Ten? She didn’t know. Was she even out of the range of the blast?
Stopping for the night crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t take the time. Her sister Dawn needed her. Grant needed her. She would drive all night to Hampton if that’s what it took.
As she turned onto a larger road with four lanes and a median in the middle, she exhaled. It was a straight shot north and relatively free of cars. Small favors. As Leah accelerated, she traded rows of houses for entrances to subdivisions and stand-alone restaurants and coffee shops on corners.
She crested the top of a hill and everything changed.
The back window of the Buick exploded in light. Brilliant, white hot, and searing, it engulfed the car, spreading out in all directions.
Leah slammed on the brakes and squeezed her eyes shut. What the…? She put the car in park and scrambled down beneath the seat as reality flooded her brain.
Oh God. No. Please, no.
Her eyelids glowed red, light overwhelming everything. This is it. It’s happening. With her arms over her head, she curled up into a ball. Please stop. Please stop.
She sobbed and begged for relief. Don’t let me incinerate. Please. I need to live. I need to be there for Grant and Dawn. I need to help people survive.
As she rocked back and forth on the seat, a rolling boom, larger than any rumble of thunder, shook the car and rattled Leah’s bones. It was all true. The threat. The attack. The bombs going off.
Her eyes still burned with light, but it faded in intensity. She risked blinking. Spots swam in her vision, but the blinding light was gone. She sat up. I’m not dead. I’m still alive.
She patted herself all over. What did Andy say? Radiation took twenty minutes to fall? Was that it?
Leah couldn’t remember. Panic swelled up in her belly, roiling her empty stomach and shooting shivers down her limbs. She had to find cover. Somewhere with a basement or thick walls of concrete. What had he said? The more concrete, the better. She glanced at her watch: 5:35.
She gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands, put the car in drive, and punched the gas. Subdivisions sped by. Little coffee shops made of wood frame and drywall. Nothing substantial. Nothing thick enough to save her.
There had to be something, somewhere.
A man stood on the grass of his corner lot and Leah slowed. He thrust his hands in front of him and waved them about like Frankenstein’s monster in an old horror movie. As he stumbled, she hit the gas.
He was blind.
Oh my God. If I hadn’t ducked… If I had stared at the light, I wouldn’t be able to see. She pushed the accelerator to the floor, scraping the bottom of the car across the sidewalk as she bounced over it to avoid abandoned cars, sideswiping bushes and mailboxes.
Where can I go? Where will be safe? She gunned it through another intersection. Side streets gave way to small strip malls. Maybe one of them would have a basement? But would it be enough? Would she be able to get in?
She turned into the first parking lot, front fender screeching as it caught on the sidewalk. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t get to shelter, the car would be a worthless accessory. A massive two-story Barnes & Noble with oversized wood and glass doors sat back off the street. The walls were made of concrete.
It would have to do.
Leah slammed the car in park, taking up half the parking spaces in the row.
She checked the time: 5:40. I have to hurry.
Scrambling into the back seat, Leah grabbed her bag. She threw the driver’s door open and almost fell out of the car. Leah ran to the store, tripping over the curb and almost sprawling out on her face. As she stumbled upright, she grabbed the door handle. It didn’t budge.
“No! Let me in!” She slammed her fists on the glass, pounding for someone to hear her. “I need help!” Her shouts turned to sobs. “I can’t die out here. I can’t.”
She heaved and leaned against the door, exhausted already. There had to be another way inside. Pushing off the locked front door, Leah ran around to the back. A metal service door sat up three steps. She rushed to it and tried the handle. Locked.
She banged on it with her foot, kicking as hard as possible. No response.
Tears streamed down her face and clouded her vision. Snot in her throat made it hard to breathe. This can’t be the end. She checked the time: 5:44.
Ten minutes since the blast. I’m running out of time.
She ran back to the Buick. Driving somewhere else wasn’t an option. The bookstore had concrete walls and two stories’ worth of material to absorb the radiation. It was her best option. She had to get inside. Leah popped the trunk and yanked out the tire iron.
I can do this.
Rushing back to the front of the store, she picked the window farthest from the doors and closest to the bookshelves. She summoned all her strength, gripped the tire iron in her fist, and swung.
The glass cracked, splinters running out like spider webs in all directions. She hit it again and again and it wobbled but didn’t fall. She stepped back. Was it shatterproof glass? Acrylic?
Leah bent into a crouch and hammered at the same spot with the tire iron, hitting again and again until she chipped an inch-wide hole in the window. She stuck the tire iron in the hole and pulled. The glass wobbled and bent and Leah worked enough of it loose to scramble through the hole. She pulled her duffel through, tossed it and
the tire iron on the floor, and sucked in some air.
5:51.
Her whole body trembled and shook with fear and adrenaline, but she couldn’t rest. She had to close the hole.
Leah cleared the bookcase one shelf at a time, using both her hands like shovels. Books fell all around her feet in heaps, self-help guides to live her best life. Another time, she would laugh at the irony, but now, with her hair half out of her ponytail and sticking to her sweaty cheeks, all she could do was push on.
When the shelves were clear, Leah grabbed the side of the bookcase farthest from the broken window and pushed. It moved an inch.
“Come on!” she screamed in frustration, and tried again. The bookcase slid half a foot. Leah paused to push sweat and hair off her face. I have to do this. I will do this.
Gripping the side of the bookcase again, she shoved with all her remaining strength and the bookcase slid across the floor. It hit the wall and she ran around to the back, pushing it in an arc to stand in front of the open window.
She stepped back in relief and sucked in breath after breath. It covered the hole.
Would it be enough? Would it protect her from the fallout? She didn’t have a clue. She looked around her at the hundreds of books on the floor and scooped them up, adding them to the spaces around the bookcase as filler. If small amounts of air could penetrate the cracks between the bookcase and the broken glass, the books might stop it.
Leah ran back to her bag, grabbed it and the tire iron, and hurried through the store, passing the coffee shop in the middle, the tables lined with gifts, and tucked herself into a corner. With solid walls on two sides and a bookshelf stuffed to the gills in front of her, Leah felt as safe as she could be.
She sagged to the floor, heaving and panting.
As the adrenaline seeped from her body, her teeth began to chatter. Her arms and legs shook. I’m going into shock. Her body was shutting down to keep her alive. She glanced at her watch.
6:01. Thirty minutes since the blast, at least. There was no leaving the bookstore now. She would be there until she deemed it safe to go outside. But when would that be?
