Bobby Akart - Armageddon

The McDowell family was together once again after being caught off guard by the sudden panic. However, they too were suffering from lack of oxygen and the rise in the temperature within the bunker.

“Dad, is the place burning down? It’s so hot in here.”

Owen looked toward the door and ceiling. He lifted his shirt over his face and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I really think it would be worse if the gym was on fire.”

“Owen,” began Lacey, “maybe we shouldn’t go out?”

“Mom, we can’t breathe in here.”

“But it might be better if half these people leave,” suggested Lacey.

The whistle grew louder in the roar of human despair, indicating the coach and the officer were getting closer.

“What are we gonna do?” asked Tucker as he was forcibly shoved into his mom, causing him to spin around, ready to fight back.

“I say we take our chances outside. At least we can make decisions for ourselves.”

“Stand back!” shouted the coach.

“Make room for them to get to the door!” a man in the crowd hollered.

Each member of the McDowell family was now forced against the concrete wall with strangers’ bodies pressed against them. The coach was pushing his way past, making matters worse.

“It’s almost over,” Owen said to his family, trying to offer words of reassurance.

He was right in one respect. The coach and police officer worked together to turn the mechanical locks to release the protective seal and unlock the door. However, as the blast door was opened, a whole new problem presented itself. Dozens of people had remained in the stairwell outside the door, and they wanted in.

Those inside the bunker expected a rush of fresh air and an opening to escape the smell of smoke. Instead, they were greeted with the full brunt of the soot-filled air and others who were trying to gain entry. The unstoppable force paradox was on full display as those on the outside, the immovable object, stood ready to enter the bunker, while those frightened souls on the inside, the unstoppable force, crashed into them as they tried to escape.

Once again anger, hostility, and alarm pervaded on both sides. The thirty-six-inch-wide opening was unable to accommodate the crush of people. The outsiders were dragged inward and shoved to the ground to make way for the insiders, who fought to escape the confines of the bunker. They ascended the stairs, knocking down anyone in their way.

“You can’t go out there!”

“I ain’t dyin’ in that coffin!”

“There’s fire in Sacramento.”

“I’m not gonna get cooked in a dungeon!”

The debate raged on amid the scramble to both enter and exit through the same opening. Owen and Tucker created a shield around Lacey to protect her from being further battered by the scared mob.

Minutes seemed like hours as the coach and the officer took on the roles of traffic cops in a busy New York City intersection with the stoplight malfunctioning. The hurling of curse words replaced the blaring of vehicle horns. The shoving and shouting of everyone in the bunker was no different from the shouting of drivers accompanied by fists or middle fingers waving out of their vehicles’ windows.

Ten minutes or so later, order was somewhat restored as the insiders and the outsiders traded places. Owen led the way with Lacey in the middle and Tucker close behind. They rushed up the stairs into the pitch-dark gymnasium, where people were laid out on the floor. Some were sleeping. Most were talking among themselves. And the sound of whimpering and crying was indicative of the despair they all felt.

The McDowells walked reverently past the refugees. As they did, they overheard conversations and speculation.

“The fire is supposedly north of the city.”

“I heard Davis was totally consumed.” Davis, California, was twenty miles west of downtown Sacramento.

“Yeah, it was. That’s where we came from.”

“It passed over the airport and burned Rio Linda. The winds just kept blowing it. That’s why we came this way.”

A woman was sobbing. “We lived in North Highlands, just twenty miles or so from here. We could see the flames coming. All we could do was grab the kids and rush out the door.”

Lacey squeezed Owen’s hand to stop him. “Does anybody know if the Bay Area was hit?”

A woman behind Lacey responded, “Honey, there’s no such thing as the Bay Area anymore. Direct hit. We could see the blast from our condo in Sacramento.”

Owen pulled Lacey close to him. She began to cry as she thought about their home being destroyed by the nuclear detonation. After a moment, she gathered herself and looked for her son. He wasn’t standing next to them anymore. Then she heard his voice shouting at them.

“Mom! Dad! Over here! Come on!”

Saturday, October 26

Auburn, California

Lacey and Owen made their way through the people scattered about the gymnasium to catch up with Tucker, who stood near the front entrance on Agard Street. An orange glow could be seen under the double doors separating the gym from the foyer at the main entrance to the building.

“Is it daylight?” asked Lacey, pointing toward the bottom of the doors.

Tucker took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth. His response was muffled. “No, you’ll see. You might want to cover up like me.”

Lacey and Owen did as he suggested. Tucker eased the door open, allowing just enough room for the three to exit into the outer hallway. Their eyes immediately grew wide as they observed the spectacular sky.

The sky was orange with hints of gray and white. The air was thick with a stagnant, dense haze as a layer of soot and smog-like clouds had settled in over North-Central California. The raging fires cast an orangish glow across the region, captured and held close to the surface of the planet by the layers of ash and soot.

“My god,” Lacey muttered as she took in the sight.

“I think the fire’s closer than we think,” said Owen. “We’ve gotta get to the car.”

“Outside will be quickest,” suggested Tucker. “There are people filling this entire hallway.”

Owen led the way outside and was immediately hit with the soot-filled air. He attempted to cover his eyes by burying them into the pit of his elbow. Lacey joined him and started coughing. Tucker didn’t hesitate as his parents did. He started up the street toward their car, urging them to follow.

Owen took Lacey by the hand and pulled her along as they ran to catch up with their son. They made it to the street where they’d left their car. It was empty with no signs of life. Most people were either tucked away in their homes, or travelers had found shelter inside the gym. It was eerily quiet as the three of them walked briskly past the school, occasionally glancing over their shoulders at the orangish-red glow over the city of Sacramento.

Tucker was the first to spot their cars, and his words said it all. “This is so trash!”

Trashed would’ve been more appropriate. While they were holed up in the bunker, someone had broken into their SUV and emptied the contents onto the street. Their duffel bags of clothing had been opened and thrown about. Their food and water that was once stacked high in the back of the Expedition had been stolen.

Owen ran both hands through his hair and shook his head in disbelief. He felt for the truck’s smart key in his front pockets. He remembered he’d left it in the ignition.

“I’m surprised they didn’t drive off with the whole damn thing,” he lamented as he approached the open driver’s door. He stuck his head inside and removed the fob from the ignition.

“Who has the Bronco’s keys?” asked Lacey.