“From taking a life?”
I nodded.
Spencer tightened his lips. “Why wouldn’t you tell Tony that?”
“He’s proud of what I did today.”
“He’s proud of how you reacted.”
“I took two lives today,” I said. “I can’t process all this death. I can’t. And I know what they did and how they acted, and I know their intentions, but no matter what, I still …” I choked on the words. “Killed two men. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“You will. Eventually, you will.”
“You were a cop. This probably sounds silly to you.”
“Are you kidding me?” Spencer asked. “Anna, it doesn’t matter how many times you fire a gun at someone, you feel it. It bothers you. It bothered me today. Maybe I could have just injured her. We can second guess all we want, but the bottom line is, you feel the way you feel because you are human.”
“But even now, in this new world?”
“Right now, in this new world, it’s even more important not to lose that. You hear me? You make the decisions based on the good of humanity. That’s what makes you the person you are.”
I whispered a thank you and took a sip of my wine. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t have to tell me. But … why did you want to stay behind and die when the comet was coming?”
Spencer’s first reaction was a heavy exhale.
“You changed your mind.”
“I didn’t want to die, Anna. No one does. And I still feel bad for coming here.”
“Why?”
“For the same reason I wanted to watch it all end. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Spencer, you are not a bother.”
He paused, then very seriously looked at me. “I’m sick, Anna.”
“The pneumonia will take some time to …”
“No, Anna, I am sick. I was diagnosed three months ago with ALS -Lou Gehrig’s disease. I was set to retire in January. My health wasn’t holding up. My legs get weak, and some days my arms don’t want to move. It started out so minor that I never noticed. But then it hit me.”
I reached over and laid my hand on his arm. “I am so sorry.”
“No, I am. Because unless, I get up the nerve to walk out that door, then eventually I’ll be a burden to you all.”
“No, you won’t. You can’t say that and you can’t think that way. This is a different life now. None of us know what is going to happen. In this world now, we never know when it will be our time. And you’re not a man with an illness, Spencer. In this shelter you are another survivor and you’re doing the same thing as the rest of us. Doing the best we can, taking it one day at a time.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Thank you …” I waved my hand out. “For this.”
Spencer raised his cup. “Here’s to taking it one day at a time.
I clinked my glass to his. “One day at a time.”
40 – Dissipation
October 20
By all research, models and predictions given by Peter, our veil of darkness was supposed to lift weeks earlier.
For days following the trigger day, we watched, waited and hoped.
Nothing.
Too much had gone on globally and his prediction was out the window. It sent Peter into a semi-depressed state.
Despite how nice the bunker was, it was cold and because we didn’t want to push the boilers, it hovered around sixty degrees. To those who lived outside, I guess that was a tropical paradise. To us, we thrived on the once a day, one hour fireplace hovering.
We set it up at bed time.
The fire place as designed as a backup. Enough wood to get us through the impact winter and darkness until we could go out and retrieve more.
I don’t know which brilliant mind did the math, but they were way off.
It was the one thing we had to ration.
I think we were fairing rather well, immersing ourselves into odd routines once the dust from our August attack had settled.
Physically, everyone was back to normal. Clarisse had been confined to the third floor of the hive and was allowed to walk freely with an escort. That escort was Spencer. He wanted the exercise.
Mentally we stayed strong as well, and I attributed that to Craig.
One night, not long after the attack, Craig, like such a teacher, called us to attention. “If we don’t take preventive measures, we could very well be facing something we didn’t think of. Without sunlight, without exposure, the body goes into a mode. Lack of sunlight also decreases serotonin. We need stimulus day and evening to keep us going. If not S.A.D. is a very serious condition.”
“S.A.D?” Tony asked.
“Seasonal Affect Disorder.”
“S.A.D.” Tony nodded once. “So if we don’t do something, we’re all gonna be sad?”
We laughed at Tony’s silly comment.
Craig did not. “This is serious. I am going to set up a schedule for each and every one of you. And you need to follow it or we will not be in a good mental state when the darkness ends. And yes, it is ironic that the depression state is an acronym called ‘Sad’.”
Craig and Tony worked together to make sure our down time wasn’t enough to make us crazy. We all had jobs, and then a second job in another department we trained in.
I reviewed a daily inventory, worked four hours a day in the Switch Room and trained with Craig.
The first order of business was learning an IV. Go figure.
We had game night on Tuesdays and Thursdays and every evening after dinner, we wound down around the fire and played that jukebox.
Of course, the jukebox stopped working for some reason.
Things were going smoothly.
I started a healing process. I still looked at Jackson’s picture every day, talked to him and listened to his music. It still hurt, but it hurt a little less.
I missed my son. How much of an asset he would have been.
One evening, we had fresh salad for the first time with dinner. Melissa was amazing, her mini green house produced radishes, leaf lettuce and snap peas. We still had a couple weeks on the carrots and tomatoes, but she proved to us we were going to be fine.
And that was what we worried about.
Not now, not next month, but the future.
The less we relied on our storage the better we’d be.
The biggest challenge was going to be the grains. For some odd reason, they just weren’t taking. They did well enough to feed to the chickens, but us, that was something that would have to wait until things warmed up.
We had flour and stuff in storage, but I put that on high ration.
Bread was made once a week.
We each got a half a loaf. I always sliced my super thin and made it last. I was the envy of everyone when the day before bread making rolled around. It got a little stale, but toasting it worked.
I decided to be nice and make Peter and I sandwiches for our Switch room shift. I made egg, lettuce and radish sandwiches.
While the three ingredients didn’t sound like they went together well, when your diet consists of prepared meals, soups and boxed stuff, it was a gourmet meal.
I’d hear from Tony time and again for favoring Peter. But he was nice. Really nice and other than Tony, I likened him to my best friend.
“It has texture,” Peter said as he bit into my impromptu lunch. “I like it.”
“Me, too. So... question,” I said. “What’s the surface temperature? Because I am either getting used to this cold or it feels like it’s not so cold.”
“Well it’s a balmy sixty-four in the bunker.”
“Whoa.”
“And …” Peter looked up on the computer. “Minus fifteen outside. See? See? This is what I mean. Black and cold. Makes no sense. It should still be minus forty like it was two days ago.”
“What’s Damnation Alley saying?”
“Slight warning not mu
ch to brag about.”
I grabbed the radio and Peter stopped me. “Mulligan is not working.”
“What? No. Why? He’s always working.”
“Not today.”
“Who is on?” I asked.
“Stevens.”
“Dick.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with Mulligan?”
“Apparently some sort of respiratory ailment has hit their bunker,” Peter said. “Bound to happen. We just lucked out.”
“No,” I corrected. “Craig had foresight. He quarantined out first head cold to see if he could keep it from spreading. And he did. It worked.”
“Tony was not happy about being quarantined.”
“It was funny.” Despite the fact that our morning radio buddy was not working, I grabbed the radio again and called out. “Damnation Alley, Damnation Alley, come in, this is Protocol One.”
“We read you Protocol One.”
“How’s the weather there?” I asked. “Over.”
“Dark and cold.”
“Same here. How is Mulligan? I hear he’s under the weather.”
“He is, Protocol One. We expect him to be fully functioning again in a couple days.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Are you up to playing the game?”
“I don’t play the game. Mulligan may play the game, but I don’t.”
I mouthed the word ‘dick’ to Peter, he nodded knowingly.
“Anything to report?” Damnation Alley asked.
“Negative. You?”
“With the exception of our flu bug nothing …. Hold on, Protocol One.”
There was silence.
He came back on, only this time the usually drab and business as usual Stevens sounded enthusiastic. “Protocol One, have to get back to you. You aren’t going to believe this. We just received radio contact from another camp!”
The call was ended, but I jumped up and shrieked. Although I knew the world wasn’t reduced to our bunker and Damnation Alley, it was nice to hear someone out there was alive. I embraced Peter.
“When we hear back,” I said. “We’ll let the others know. I am so glad it was us on duty to hear it first.”
“Oh, you know it. Tom would not have let us live it down.”
“Who do you think it is? Where.” I closed one eye when a flash hit it. It wasn’t a big flash, just enough to catch me off guard. I looked up trying to figure out where it came from. Then I did. The monitor flashed white again. “Something is wrong with the outdoor camera.”
“I see that. Let me adjust.”
It flashed white, then a few seconds later, it flashed once more before becoming completely white.
“Oh my God.” Peter stood up. “The sun is out!”
“The sun is out?”
“It just broke free. The sun is out.” He jumped up. “The sun is out!”
As if we were in some sort of teeny bopper episode of a television show, we locked hands, jumping up and down, screaming with delight.
I grabbed the portable radio and raced to the Switch room door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get a coat and see.”
“Ah, I want to see.”
“You will. I’ll be back.”
I was filled with a zest that carried in my voice as I ran full force about that bunker. I didn’t need the radio. I was like Paul Revere, but instead of screaming ‘The British are coming’ I high tailed it screaming everywhere, “The sun is out. The sun is out.”
Everyone, with the exception of Peter, and I felt bad about that, bundled up and raced for the bay doors. Even Ben and Spencer who were sleeping, heard me calling out, jumped up and had to see.
We lined up side by side at the blast doors.
I stood with Tony. We had wrapped Joie is several blankets and put on sun glasses. We covered her nose and mouth because the temperatures weren’t going to rise that fast.
On the count of three, Tony undid the latches.
It had been months. Two months since the fires died and everything went black.
Holding my breath, not just in anticipation but for fear of the cold, I watched Tony and Duke slowly open the doors.
It was blinding.
The sun crept through, then when the doors opened fully, we were blasted.
It was magnificent.
Even thought it was frigid cold, the sun was warm on our face. Dances of warmth hit me and I stepped out.
It was the dawn of a new era.
It was a sign.
We had lived through the darkness.
It was more than just the dust settling enough for the sun to power through. It was a symbolization. The dark was behind us. There could only be brighter days ahead.
41 – Omega Man
October 24
Arctic coats hung in the switch room and in the bay. It wasn’t an unusual thing to step outside. We weren’t confined to below anymore because of some sort of threat. We could go out, and no matter how cold it was, someone always did. I was always stepping out.
The metal pipe we used to mark Jackson’s grave was still standing. It had warped some, but it was still there. Duke had made a beautiful cross out of wood to mark the grave, but the ground was till rock solid. We would soon, though..
Before my shift in the switch room. I took Joie outside for a few minutes. The sun had new meaning. It was absolutely beautiful. Frosty snow fell, even though there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.
It sparkled off the sun.
A blue sky. For a couple days after the sun returned, clouds would roll in. But now it was clear. It was a matter of time before temperatures stabilized.
Peter predicted it would be a while before it warmed up.
Damnation Alley agreed with that.
Joie and I had a nice three minute walk outside. I returned her to Nelly and then I headed to the Switch room.
My shift had been shortened since the sun returned. No more need to thwart off the dreaded S.A.D. that came with no sunlight.
But I made the best of the time I had in the Switch room.
Damnation Alley reported there was a group of survivors in Kentucky. About thirty of them, and they would be traveling to the Texas bunker as soon as the weather permitted.
Mulligan was back. He coughed a lot over the radio, but at least he beat their flu.
They had eight deaths.
That was sad.
“Okay,” Mulligan said. “Your turn. Six to five is the score.”
I nodded at Peter and then pressed the button. “Heston. Apocalypse. Simians.”
“Planet of the Apes.”
I groaned loudly when he said the correct answer. “You’re right. Tie score. Ask your question.” I looked at Peter and told him to get it right.
“I’m trying.”
Mulligan spoke. “Director. Cruise Ship. Seventies Show.”
“Seriously?” I asked him.
Peter shook his head.
“Repeated.” Mulligan said. “Adding one more. Director. Cruise Ship. Seventies show. Blonde.”
I tossed out my hands. “Who the hell would know that answer? Blond. Cruise Director. Seventies show.”
At that moment, Tom entered the office and hung up his arctic coat. “Julie. That’s your answer.”
When I relayed the answer and found out I was right, I clenched my fist with a mighty, ‘Yes’.
“I’m up and you’re out,” Tom said. “I want to play. I came up with some good questions. Besides Tony needs to see you on the lower level.”
I whined. “He probably wants to gripe at me again for not kicking Clarisse out yet.”
“For what it’s worth,” Peter said. “I don’t blame you for waiting until it hits thirty-two. Besides, she does wonderful things with the snap peas.”
Tom stated. “Just because the woman can work magic with snap peas isn’t a reason to keep her here. She was kicked out.”
“She wants to take her son
with her.” I said. “He can’t take that much cold.”
“I’ll give you that,” Tom said.
Hating to leave in the middle of a trivia game we were winning, I went to find Tony.
When I entered the lower floor of Hive Two, I didn’t see him. So I called out. “Hello?”
“Hey.” He replied.
“Where are you?”
He stood up from behind the jukebox.
“I’m here as you requested,” I said.
“Great, thanks. So I saw Nelly.” He pushed the jukebox back to the wall. “She has this elaborate Halloween party planned for the kids.”
“Is that why you wanted me?”
“No. I wanted to see you. I haven’t seen you all day.”
“That’s nice.”
“And …” Tony lifted a finger. “I fixed the jukebox.”
At that instant, it lit up.
“Oh my God, really? What was wrong with it?”
“Puzzle pieces shoved in the money slot. They slipped down and jammed things. We have music for the party. But while fixing it …” He stood before the jukebox. “I found a song. I think it’s perfect for right now.”
“You brought me down here for a song?”
“No, I brought you down here for a moment. Plus, it’ll make you happy. It made me happy when I saw it.”
The song began to play, I was familiar with the bass line, and Tony then snapped his fingers with the recording. He turned around with a serious face, extended his hand to me and started singing.
I laughed.
“I got sunshine...” He sang then grabbed my hand and yanked me into him. “On a cloudy day.”
He cupped my hand in his, and arm around my waist, began to dance with me in a fun way.
“This isn’t you, Tony,” I said. “You’re not romantic.”
“I’m sorry, is this romantic?”
“Yes.”
“Ok, I’m not romantic. But …. I’m spontaneous.”
“No. No you are not.”
“Then enjoy the moment, because it won’t happen all that ….” He paused to sing ‘My girl’, and continued talking. “All that often.”
“What’s with the mood?”
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