by C C Roth
They’re not stuck at home. They’re dead like everyone else. I shouldn’t have thought it but looking on the bright side wasn’t one of my strengths.
We sat for a minute. I should have felt guilty that I was relieved while everyone else was silently grieving, but I didn’t. No part of me had been looking forward to being cramped in a tiny cabin with my two obnoxious little cousins. And besides, they might be fine. Dad’s face said it all though, he thought they were dead too.
Mike signaled for me to get out with him to leave our parents alone for a second.
I stepped out of the jeep and surveyed what was to be our home for…well, who knew how long. The frigid January air whipped my ponytail around as I turned to soak up the view and my boots squeaked in the snow-covered grass. Off in the distance an animal in the woods could be heard making a hasty retreat through the crunching leaves, likely confused to hear people on its property. Grey clouds threatening more snow hung heavy above us as I grabbed my backpack and made my way to the cabin door, following in Mike’s footsteps. Large spider webs, some long abandoned, hung lazily around the doorway. Dad turned the key and we all filed in.
Mom immediately got to work, of course. I swear sometimes it was exhausting just watching her.
“Alright, I’ll check the fuse box and hopefully we’ll have light and heat for a while anyway. Jack, can you take a look at the generator?”
“Of course, anything for you. And what exactly am I looking for? Suspicious behavior? Bad manners?”
She snorted, “Never mind. I will go check it out.”
Dad started unloading the car while Mike and I walked around, taking it all in. The interior was more about function than beautiful décor. The kitchen was small but there was a stove and sink with exposed shelves running along the L-shaped corner wall. There was also a refrigerator and enough counter space to accomplish most kitchen tasks. The rest of the floor was open with a dining table in front of large windows and a view of the lake, a sitting area with mismatched sofa and chairs around the fireplace, and a single door at the back of the room that I recalled was a small bedroom. Right next to that was a tiny bathroom, something not all cabins around here had, and I was eternally grateful for it. But it would be useless if we didn’t have running water. The thought of having to trek out to an old outhouse made my lip curl in disgust. Above the back half of the space and overlooking the main room was a large loft area with several beds. My cousins and I used to sleep up there whenever we came to visit. We’d sit up at night giggling and telling stories. I walked over to the stone fireplace that hugged the wall all the way up to the ceiling and ran a finger along the black soot that had collected over the years.
If I concentrated, I could almost hear the sound of my cousins squealing and shrieking as they ran up into the loft trying to get away from me. I was twelve and had found a baby snake sunning itself on the steps outside. Some kids would have only watched it, admiring its black scales shining purple in the sunlight, some kids would have run away frightened, but I snatched it up and chased my cousins around in pure delight at their terror. My reign as scary snake-lady was short-lived as Mike quickly stepped in with his disapproving frown and a frustrated, “Sam, really?” He returned the baby reptile to the woods unharmed and my cousins wouldn’t talk to me for two whole days.
“Hello? Don’t I have two amazing and strong children who are capable of carrying things?” my dad taunted from the doorway with his hands full of bags and boxes.
I smiled, “Sorry, just looking around.”
Mike hopped up from the couch. “Yeah, Sam. Stop being so lazy,” he teased as he shoved me aside with a laugh.
Mike and I both took turns hauling loads in. Clothes, food, camping gear, cooking supplies, and whatever personal stuff we all had packed. It took less time than I expected to transport our lives which only made me realize how much we’d left behind. Mom was able to get the electricity switched on and soon we had light and heat. On one of my return trips from the car I noticed the shelves in the kitchen weren’t empty. In fact, they had been totally stocked with canned goods and bottles of water before we’d arrived. Mom was stashing things away and cleaning up as we brought everything in.
“Where did all this come from, Mom?” I asked, pointing to the shelves.
She shrugged, “Must be a fairy godmother,” and with a smile she went back to unpacking.
Geez, she could be so annoying sometimes. She was avoiding the question but why? When did she have time to do this? And how long ago? I started to ask her again but my dad’s voice interrupted me.
“Sam,” he called from outside. “Come on out and help me get some fire wood together.”
I walked outside and met him over by the west tree line. He was staring at the thick forest with his hands on his hips, seeming to study every detail of his surroundings.
“Dad?”
“Yeah. Over here. I sent your brother to clean out the loft. Let’s get a wood pile started so we don’t freeze to death. There’s still a lot of winter left and were going to need it. I don’t want to be running the generator all the time.”
He picked up a small hand saw near his feet and we walked into the woods a few steps.
“Why don’t you gather kindling first and I’ll grab some bigger branches.”
“Sure. What the hell is kindling?” I asked confused.
“Geez you’re such a city kid. How did that happen?” he said with a smile. “Anything that’s small in diameter to get our fire started. Twigs.” He had always been a city kid too so the joke wasn’t lost on me. He used to make fun of the fact that he much preferred a concrete jungle while Mom was partial to the real thing. In fact, if it weren’t for Mom we probably never would have taken trips to the cabin at all.
We worked together in silence for a time and we both had collected a solid amount of smaller wood piles up against the house when he finally spoke again.
“I need to talk to you, Sam. I’m not sure how to do this but I’m going to do my best. There are going to be things you and your brother need to learn how to do now. The next few weeks I want to make sure that you’re paying attention to your mom and me. If something should happen to us I need to know that you’ll be prepared, that you’ll be able to take care of yourself. I’m going to talk to your brother too but you need to understand that things are different for you because you’re a woman.”
He held up a hand in defense as my mouth flew open to protest.
“I don’t mean that you’re less capable, in fact probably the opposite. What I mean is the world is going to treat you differently because you’re a woman. It’s not fair but it’s true. Today on the road made it really clear to me that our world is changing and quickly. Those men back on the highway…men like that will see you as a victim, as an easy target. And I won’t let you be a victim. You’ll need to learn to survive but that also means knowing how to protect yourself. With any luck, all this will blow over soon and we can laugh about this conversation someday. But right now, things are bad and getting worse. I won’t let you be a victim. The next few months will be hard because I’m going to expect you to work hard, okay? I know you’re tough, tougher than you probably think. I know you can make it through this.”
His words were bouncing around my mind in one big jumbled mess. What the hell was he talking about? Was I supposed to turn into some nut-job backwoodsman or something? He was very serious, which was way out of character for him, so I knew this wasn’t something I could just shrug off. But dammit I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to learn how to survive. I just wanted to go home and for everything to be normal again. I didn’t know what to say so I tried to be as honest as possible.
“I’m not sure I really know what you mean but I’ll try, I will.”
That seemed good enough for him. He nodded and we carried the last of our bundles back towards the side of the cabin to add to the pile. Mike joined us and we worked for another hour together. Dad showed us how to use the saw for
the bigger logs and said he would show us how to use the axe tomorrow.
Axe? Who was this guy all of a sudden? An image of my dad, bearded and wearing plaid, popped into my head and I couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be strange days ahead. We all trudged into the cabin, cold and tired from the stress of the day. Mom had done an incredible job organizing supplies, of course. Hanging on one of the cabinets was a pencil and sheet of yellow legal paper labeled Inventory. Something we would all get to know well over the remaining winter.
She beamed at us as we entered. “Who’s hungry?”
We all answered in a unanimous affirmation. She had something on the stove in a pot that smelled fantastic. With all the anxiety and stress of just getting here I’d forgotten how hungry I was. Mike and I fought over the bathroom sink to wash up then ran to the table for lunch.
“Everything looks great, Mom,” Mike said as we grabbed bowls off the counter and sat down to eat.
The chairs were rickety and groaned as we took our seats except for my mom’s, of course. She was so graceful and delicate she floated silently into her chair without a squeak. I did not inherit much of the graceful gene and rocked back and forth clumsily as I scooted in, earning an eye roll from Mike. Although my dad told me all the time how much I looked like my mother, I just didn’t see it. My features weren’t as soft and I lacked her charm and poise. I was much more at home playing video games than I was doing anything traditionally girly. I didn’t even have her beautiful hair. Mine was a tired boring brown compared to her stunning auburn and I usually wore it up in a ponytail anyway. Sometimes I wondered if I was even related to her at all.
She smiled at us as we sat down but there was an edge to it. She was super stressed, as we all were but she was keeping her mellow face intact for the moment. We ate the amazing stew she had thrown together and I wondered about the people back home. The ones I knew were still alive anyway. Our neighbors, kids from school, my cousins. What were they doing right now? Were they making plans of their own for an escape? Would I ever see any of them again?
Almost as if she could read my mind, my mom answered with the only thing that could be said at that moment.
“We should be thankful we’re here together. Not everyone has this right now. And we don’t know for how long we’ll have it. But for right now, we should be thankful we’re here.”
Mike didn’t look up from his food but he nodded slightly. He was probably thinking about the same things I was. Except, being super popular, he had a lot more people to worry about than I did. There were entire groups of people who were actively missing him whereas I had one soul in the whole world who would notice I wasn’t answering my texts anymore. Mike’s friends would probably organize an online support group in honor of him. I almost laughed out loud at the thought.
We ate mostly in silence and talked briefly about our day tomorrow. Dad was going to show us how to chop wood without chopping off our legs. Mom was going to take us on a long hike to learn the property and perimeter. Then we all took turns using the pint-sized bathroom to get cleaned up. Mike and I sat on the little couch together in our sweatpants and fuzzy socks and watched Mom fiddle with the radio.
“It’s important we know what’s going on in the world so we know what our next move is. With no TV here the radio is our connection for now.”
“Tell me again why there’s not a TV here?” I asked. “I mean we’re in the woods not in another dimension.”
Mom and Dad smiled at each other.
“Well after the old one broke five years ago I guess no one ever bothered to replace it. It was kind of nice not having a TV when you wanted to come relax in the middle of nowhere. It just didn’t occur to us that we’d really need one.”
Mike and I cracked up as we joked back and forth. “Hey Dad, this will be like when you were growing up. Before TV was invented, right?”
He puffed an offended whoosh of air out his mouth and made a goofy face at me. Then proceeded to do his old-man routine complete with hunched back and crackling voice. We all giggled in spite of how embarrassing he was. I swear, the man could have been a stand-up comedian in another life.
That was the last moment I can remember feeling safe and whole. The last time I felt like there was a simple solution somewhere just out of reach. Sitting with my family in front of a fire, my big brother next to me giving me his sweet reassuring grin, snow covering the ground outside as if we could’ve been on Christmas vacation. The feeling was brief and fleeting, but I still remember it. Sometimes if I close my eyes it feels real enough that I could I reach out and grasp it from the abyss of time and sit in it forever.
About one minute later our lives took a drastic plunge into an inescapable darkness. Our futures, my future, would be forever changed.
2- No Return
The radio speakers buzzed through different channels as Mom turned the dial. Blips of voices and music flipped through the air as she found the station she was searching for. And then we heard it, a woman’s voice clear and sharp like a knife blade cutting through the static.
“…join the entire country in grieving this newest tragedy. Once again, at approximately 12 pm this afternoon a massive explosion tore through downtown Washington, D.C. We do not have exact numbers for you yet but initial reports are stating that fatalities are nearing 50,000 and growing.” The woman’s voice cracked as she spoke. She was keeping it together but her devastation was clear. “Our nation is already struggling to battle the deadly virus that has wiped out thousands of Americans and now this. One can only assume this is part of a coordinated attack but we have no official statement from our government yet. This is still unfolding as we speak and to be quite blunt, we don’t know what is left of our current government at the national level. We do know that several major government buildings, including the White House, have been decimated and survivors are thought to be unlikely.”
I looked around at my family and everyone was glued to the radio, staring openmouthed in disbelief.
“We are talking to you live and will continue to stay with you as long as we can. We have at the scene, Trevor Malcolm. He is just outside Washington, D.C and has witnessed the aftermath of this violent attack. Trevor, what can you see?”
A man’s voice started talking. “Hillary, right now I am standing 20 miles outside of ground zero. I was just outside the city when the explosion happened and I could see and feel the aftershock from there. We have been evacuated to a temporary emergency center. It is devastating. There are simply no other words for what has happened here. There are thousands of people just wandering out of the city on foot, looking dazed, covered in dust and debris. Many of them injured. Emergency workers have set up treatment centers for the injured and of course we have hundreds of first responders pouring into our nation’s capital, trying to search for survivors. It is a grisly scene. I was not permitted past a checkpoint trying to get into the city so I think it is safe to say at this time that no unnecessary persons are being allowed in for their own safety. If we want first-hand accounts, we will have to find a way to communicate with someone already on the inside. But I don’t know how far the blast reached or how many survivors we can expect at this point. All I can tell you is that 20 miles outside of downtown D.C. is considered a safe zone and there is a functional emergency center set up and receiving victims right now. I was told by one emergency worker who has made several evacuation trips in, that the devastation is unlike anything he has ever seen. He said that the White House is completely gone. I cannot confirm that, but that is what at least one firefighter has told me. However I can confirm the emergency center here is treating people for flash-blindness which is a result of looking directly at a nuclear explosion.”
There was radio silence for a moment as his last sentence sunk in. All of our faces were covered in horror. My mother and father had tears in their eyes. Mike was ghost white. Then the female anchor, her voice shaken, spoke again.
“Trevor, did we hear you correctly? Are you
saying that the explosion in our nation’s capital was in fact a nuclear bomb?”
“Yes, Hillary. Based on what the rescue workers are telling us about the landscape, the injuries and blindness of victims, and the cloud that I witnessed after the initial blast…yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
Over the next hours we listened to the incoming reports of fatalities. After a month of hearing about death you would think we’d be immune to it, but we weren’t. Somehow it was different, the suddenness of it. All of those lives gone in a single instant. A solitary blast robbed thousands of people of their futures. Stole mothers, fathers, and children from each other. The tragedy of it weighed heavily on us and we cried and hugged each other and cried some more as we listened to all the news reports coming in. Mom just kept shaking her head and saying “No. This can’t be happening. No.” We huddled close around the radio, each in our own personal state of shock, as the firelight’s shadows danced along the pine plank walls of the cabin. We heard story after story confirming the nuclear bomb. There was no denying it. I listened and it was as if I could feel every single life evaporate. I felt the darkness and cold inside of me growing. It had taken its foothold and it was rising upward, taking up more space, filling the vacancies left by the dead.
We did little else the rest of the day. Occasionally one of us would get up to stretch our legs by pacing around the room but we spent the rest of the day just listening to the news and grieving. Dinner was eaten quietly as we listened to an address to the nation given by someone I’d never heard of and was too embarrassed to ask about. He offered little comfort and had no answers as to who was responsible yet. But he was reassuring everyone that the United States would prevail and recover. That we had the strength and numbers to maintain and that we would retaliate with haste. It was all a blur but I do still remember the last line of his speech.
“Take care of each other and be strong. And know that while there can be no return to normalcy after this, out of our darkest hour we will rise to build our brightest future.”
