by Lynn Lamb
“You got me there, Doc. At 07:30, on Thursday, I am walking out my door to investigate. I advise that no one else walks through their thresholds before then,” he ordered. “I am pretty sure I know what I’m going to find, but we all need proof, even me.”
Mark nodded at me and I replied, “Sir, yes, sir.” He didn’t get to see my one finger salute. “And, by the way, announce yourself on the radio when you are listening in from here on out.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
~~~
I don’t like that guy.
But I do trust him.
He was right; anyone could be listening in on our conversations. Maybe there is a way to prevent that, but for now we need to stay on point. The Doc’s declaration to go outside to check the environment threw me off. After giving it some thought, the Colonel is the perfect person to test the air.
I have to concede that he had some valid points. What if the enemy is listening in? What if they know we are here and are just waiting for us to go outside to shoot us down? We had completely missed that possibility.
Ugh, I have our nightly meeting, the Teen Club meeting that I will attend to help break the ice, and then the Therapy group; all almost back-to-back. Time was going slowly before we found the group; now it’s almost too busy. Go figure.
I think I might skip the Therapy group. I’m not really in the right mind set for it today.
July 23
I just had a very bad nightmare. I woke up in a sweat.
It hit me; I died in the war!
Sure, Mark brought me back, but I had no pulse, and I wasn’t breathing. So much had happened since he told me; I must have pushed it to the back of my mind. My subconscious brought it forward in the shape of a bad dream. The dream started out close to what really happened. My eyes were closed through much of the actual event, but my mind worked out the visuals, like it does when I am writing a script. But, on my subconscious’ plane of existence, Mark wasn’t able to bring me back. I watched on as he pumped my chest, knelt beside me and placed his lips on mine to breathe for me. I kept thinking that my lifeless body should respond, even kiss him back. He couldn’t bring me back, as hard as he tried. He wept at my side until I woke.
But I am not dead… now. My husband is lying next to me, sleeping soundly in our own bed. We are alright… for now.
No, we’re rolling again. Crap.
It felt like a tremor. Is all of this going to end well?
Annie and Mark are up now, too. Obviously.
Everyone came on the common channel one; the channel I designated for emergencies. It took a while to do our roll call. Everyone was groggy and scared. We ascertained that no one was hurt, and there was only minimal damage inside our houses this time.
I told everyone to take a deep breath and go back to bed. Easier said than done.
~~~
“Annie, Mark, can we talk?” I asked as I gestured towards the steaming cups of coffee that I had waiting on the counter, along with cereal with lukewarm powdered milk, yum.
They took the proffered seats, and Mark took a quick sip of the instant coffee before he asked, “What’s up?”
Today we are missing Survival Talk. This is much more important.
I didn’t even know where to begin. Too much has gone down, and we barely even discuss it as a family. But it was about time we did. And last night when we didn’t even talk about the earthquake was my final straw.
“I just want to be on the same page here, in our home. Annie, I know that wrist is giving you a lot of trouble, but you never say anything. You only hand over the can opener when you need something. But you rarely even ask for help. And it’s not just that, none of us really talk about our fears. We just go about our days. You first, Annie. What’s going on with you?”
“Okay, well, we had a nuclear war, than they dumped chemicals on us that can cause the plague and smallpox. The SMALLPOX! My house is falling apart, so much is gone. It’s everything I built in a lifetime, gone in minutes. I can’t take a decent shower, I can’t make my family a decent meal, and I don’t know where my son and granddaughters are. And I am pretty sure my wrist is healing wrong. If we get out of here alive, I am going to need to be physically stronger, but I am not,” Annie poured out everything that she had bottled up at once. I asked for it, but I wasn’t ready for that much. That was my fault.
“Thank you. Let’s start at the beginning. The war and biochemicals,” I began.
“May I?” Mark asked. I nodded my head. “Annie, I know that the worst of the worst has happened. Let’s start with the nuclear aspects of the war. I think that it is fair to assume that San Francisco was hit by a nuclear bomb, just like all the big U.S. cities. That means that we are over two hours away from ground zero. Remember Japan’s nuclear plant meltdown? The news said that there were minimal radiation threats outside of twenty miles,” Mark stopped as if to figure out what to say next. He truly wanted to assuage Annie’s fear, but he didn’t have all of the facts. Neither of us did. I had to do something I didn’t want to do.
I grabbed the walkie and set it to channel thirteen.
“Jackson, are you there?” I begrudgingly asked.
“Hey, Laura. I am here, is everything alright?” said Katie.
“It is. I just needed to talk to the Colonel privately,” I said.
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll get off of this channel. Let me know later if you need anything.” Katie changed the channel, I was sure of that.
“Hey, Lurkie McLurkesen. I know you are there,” I prodded.
“Yep, I am,” boomed the deeply nasal voice. “And how may I help you this fine day, Ms. Laura?”
Err. You can bite me? Sigh. “I want you to answer some questions about nuclear fallout and radiation. What are we looking at here in Monterey under the assumption that SF was hit?” I asked directly.
“There are many variables, such as how many megatons were dropped. But we are 120 miles from there. I am going to be very honest with you all; there is the possibility of us getting some repercussions from the San Francisco hit. They could come in the bay, by the way of fish with radiation. But that isn’t what I am afraid of. The biochems are my real concern. I was listening in when you talked about that, and the Doc was spot on,” Jackson trailed off, maybe waiting for a question, but I think he guessed that I was trying to calm fears, not make them worse.
“However, I believe that the risk of the smallpox is minimal. It is believed that only small portions were ever saved for research. Now, I can’t promise, but that is what I have been told,” he said.
Wow, that wasn’t very convincing.
“Okay, thanks Colonel,” I cut him off before he made things worse.
“I hope that I helped a little,” he said sincerely.
“It did,” I said to reassure him.
I turned off the walkie, not wanting any more helpful outside information.
It was quiet while the three of us looked at each other, uncomfortably.
“What happened sucks,” I said firmly. “There’s no getting around it. The world, our world, is never going to be like it was before. It’s time that we all come to grips with it. Yes, we have many hard days ahead. We don’t know what to expect out there. What radiation sickness waits around each corner? Are the blankets laced with smallpox? Will we be playing ring-around-the-rosy with the plague?
“No one has the answers though. Not the doctor, the shrink, not the Army Colonel. No one knows. From here on out, life is what we, ourselves, make of it. Will we get sick? Maybe. Will we die of dehydration? I don’t know.
“I am sorry that your house is in such bad shape, Annie. I really am. But this wasn’t only your house. I grew up here. And you were not the only one to lose things that are intertwined with your memories. But, when we get out of here, I plan to rebuild this house. I’ll do it alone if I have to. Yes, we lost things that held our memories, but we haven’t lost our memories themselves.
“Annie, remember the time I was invited to
my first party after we moved up here? I was so excited to be invited to a pool party. And remember what happened?”
“You came home with the worst case of poison oak. Your face blew up like a Thanksgiving Day float,” she said with a wide smile.
“Yes. See, you didn’t lose that memory. Right now the three of us have each other to help us remember. But if we spend the time we have together worrying about dying, we won’t live.”
Mark came over and hugged me, pulling Annie by the sleeve to join in a group hug.
I don’t think it’s the last Braveheart-style speech I will be delivering in the coming days.
~~~
Mark pulled me into our room when we were done with our family discussion. He led me to the edge of the bed and held me tightly for a few minutes.
“I thought that you and I could have our own talk,” he began. “So much has happened, and you are right, things have changed. I wanted to say that I am sorry about everything that happened before.”
“I know you are,” I said, nodding my head and looking in his eyes. “What is done is done. Now we all need each other more than ever.”
“I am here, for better or worse,” he said.
I drew him back on the bed and, well, there are some things I don’t have to tell you, do I, diary?
~~~
Tonight’s meeting was a difficult one. Thankfully, Lizzie has taken over the meeting minutes, so I was able to focus on an important topic.
Before I get to that, I did introduce Jackson to the group. I decided not to mention his lurking about our communications. I brushed over how we “met” him, and everyone was so excited to have a military man among them that they were content with the brief introduction. Good thing, because I sensed their mood was about to take a turn for the worse.
“I wanted to talk about our food and water rations,” I went straight to my point. “We are not certain how much longer we are going to be inside…”
“But you said that we would be in here for two weeks, and that’s what we rationed for,” Tony Gianluca started in on me.
“No, I said that it might be longer,” I answered defensively.
“But we are running out of everything,” said Shelby. “We are starving. And all we have to do all day is sit around and think of how thirsty and hungry we are.”
“I know that this is tough, but I have spoken to you all personally, and I believe that if rationed properly, like I have suggested, we will all make it until it is safe to go outside,” Malcom said. “We might have to hold on for a little bit longer depending on what the environment is like. I’m sorry.”
We started to cut back on food in our home even more than we had already. We have more than enough water, thanks to our tub purchases, but we are starting to run low on food.
“I know what you are feeling. Please remember that we are all in the same place, even the doctor. We might be uncomfortable, but we are not going to die,” I said.
“Hey, Colonel, what do you think of all of this? Are you cutting back?” asked Tony.
“I am. I made sure I had food for the long haul, but we don’t even know if the food outside will be safe.”
And that started a firestorm of conversation. Thanks, Colonel.
“What about my granddaughter?” exclaimed Jessica.
“You know, I have three kids, Jessica. I am just as worried about them,” said Lizzie.
“Excuse me, everyone hold on.” Joseph, who rarely spoke at these meetings, broke through the cacophony of moaning and complaining. “Each and every one of us is in the same boat. Don’t forget that. If the Doc says it’s not safe to go out, then it’s not safe, plain and simple. As for the food safety outside, we will cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Things settled down a bit, but I knew that everyone was on edge.
“Thank you, Joseph. You are absolutely right,” I said in a calm voice, hoping that would level out everyone’s emotions. “I think it is important to stay busy and try not to think about it. The Doc says that we will all be okay with what we have for now. I trust him.”
Katie, with her usual reassuring voice, took over. “When we are hungry, and know that there isn’t much food, our minds do something instinctual. We start to panic because our sustenance is what keeps us alive. The more we give into the panic, the worse we will feel. That’s why finding something else to keep your mind on is not just a recommendation, but a necessity. Keep reading. Veda and Pranav, you have a generator, keep the movies going for the kids as long as you can without threatening your supply of gas. Shelby and Matt, last night at therapy group you said that you were remodeling Camella’s room. Start to draw up the plans. Make them detailed. Jill said that Joseph, you fixed your ham radio. Use it. Start to clean up the rubble in your homes and rebuild what you can.
“Do you all see what I am getting at? We are very fortunate to be in our own homes. Don’t forget that.” Katie’s voice had crescendoed into a plea.
That settled people down. How dumb of me to ask the Colonel to chime in? Look what he did with my mother. And these people seemed way worse off than Annie.
“I have an idea of how to keep our minds busy, as well. How about starting a list of assets we all have? By assets, I mean things that we are good at, things that we have to help us stay alive, and things that we believe that we can contribute to the group when we get out,” I offered.
Things settled down after that, and people started to throw out ideas and get their thoughts organized.
So, that was the evening meeting in a nut shell. I am really afraid of how they are going to react when we tell them the truth about the possible biochemicals in the air.
July 24
Today was back-to-back meetings. In between meetings, Mark and I began to work on the broken staircase using some of the leftover wood from the boarded up windows. We have set up a little work room in my Annie’s formal dining room.
Katie’s theory about keeping busy wasn’t just to control the masses, it actually works. In a world of such plenty, like the one we all came from, there was always so much food to be had that we never had to wonder, “what-if?” And I am actually enjoying the work. It gives me a chance to think deeply while I saw and hammer. There is so much that we can do before our exodus to the great outdoors.
Meeting One: Kid’s Club
Keeping my word about privacy, I brought the walkie in the bedroom with me.
The kids gave me the first honest laugh I have had in a while.
“Hi, everyone. It’s Laura. I thought I would try to help you get the ball rolling with your club. I know that there are only three of you for now, but…”
“My mother told me I had to come,” Gita interrupted. “I’m fourteen, that’s a TEENAGER. I don’t want to be here.”
“You know, you are right, Gita. Tell your mother you belong in the Teen Club, if you want to,” I offered.
“Peace, out,” Gita proclaimed. She made me grin.
“So, that leaves us with two, which works out because you are both boys, and you are both nine years old,” I began the introductions. “Do you know each other from school?”
Tommy started. “No, I go to private school, he goes to public.”
Ronnie spoke up next. “So, you said that these clubs are private, and no one can listen in unless they tell us they are there, right?”
I hoped I was telling the truth when I said, “That’s right, Ronnie.” I left out the part that there may be some terrorists of some sort listening in.
“Then we can talk about s-e-x,” he spelled. “Right?”
The coffee I was sipping went up my nose as I half laughed and half choked.
“Um, um. Are you allowed to talk about that subject at home?” I questioned, trying to wiggle out of a true answer. Better to dump it back on the parents.
“Only to my mom,” Ronnie said.
“No, not at all,” replied Tommy honestly.
“It’s true we wouldn’t know that was what you were talking
about. But since you aren’t allowed to talk about that stuff, I really don’t think you should,” I stated, hoping the topic would change soon.
When I was finished with my first meeting of the day, I changed the channel on the walkie to thirteen, and I sat in the living room with Annie and Mark to think for a minute.
Isn’t nine too young to be thinking about sex, especially in the middle of an apocalypse? I thought.
“Leave it to the parents, good one,” the voice chuckled.
“Oh, shut up, Jackson,” I snipped. “And the next time you listen in to a private meeting, I am coming over there with my hammer to hit you upside the head, and/or nail you into your house. I don’t care what kind of toxic sludge I have to go through. Do you hear me, Colonel?”
“Heh, I’ll leave the light on for ya,” he laughed.
I turned the thing off.
“I think I should be the one to go out and test the weather,” Mark said.
I was in total shock. Where did that come from?
“No, you are not going out there. I need you. Let that ass go out and die in it.” Before I even finished the sentence, I was mired in guilt by what I had suggested. With my head down, I whispered, “I didn’t mean that.”
I needed to get this thing with Jackson in check, right now. Ass or not, he was doing a very selfless thing by volunteering to be the guinea pig in what could be a toxic soup out there. Not just that, but I have never in my life talked to anyone that way.
Meeting Two: Survivor’s Club
After last night’s evening meeting, I wasn’t looking forward to the Survivor’s Club, but we had to be prepared to go there sometime, so I started out the meeting by posing a question that was likely to get everyone’s attention: do we need to have both an evening meeting and a Survivor’s Club?
This question was answered with a resounding “No, we don’t.” Everyone seemed relieved that we were going to change the name of the nightly meeting to The Evening Survivor’s Club, and a few people implied that I should have thought of that before. Huh. Like, I am supposed to have experience in this post-apocalyptic club universe.
And because we realized that we were on meeting overload on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Therapy Group was moved to Tuesday and Thursday.
