Bobby Akart - Armageddon

“Well, hell’s bells!” shouted the president as he slammed both fists on the table. “Aren’t you people a bundle of joy. You know what? Misery loves company, and I’ve had enough of all the misery brought into these briefings. You’ll know where to find me.”

President Helton abruptly stood and stormed out of the room.

Throughout the briefings that day, Chief of Staff Chandler had taken a more active role in controlling the discussions. He knew President Helton better than anyone other than the man’s wife. He was starting to see the signs of his old friend having a nervous breakdown.

Earlier, Chandler had had a private conversation with the White House physician who accompanied the president everywhere. It was natural, under the circumstances, for the president’s mind and body to be subjected to extreme mental and emotional distress. However, Chandler was starting to notice the president’s inability to cope.

His recent uncontrolled outbursts and angry fits were just one of the many signs both Chandler and the president’s physician had observed. The president was suffering from insomnia. His doctor had suggested an Ambien before bedtime, but the president refused. He insisted upon being coherent in the event China or Russia decided to attack the U.S.

The president wasn’t eating, and when he did, he complained about stomach cramps and constipation. The stresses he endured had triggered a flare-up of irritable bowel syndrome, which contributed to the president’s refusal to eat.

With each passing day, his condition seemed to worsen. Discussions were held in private between cabinet members, leading to the suggestions the vice president might need to step in to lead the country. Just that afternoon, a staffer loyal to Chandler overheard a conversation about the Twenty-Fifth Amendment, a provision in the Constitution that allowed the president to step down, temporarily when appropriate, if he was deemed incapacitated.

The vice president, who was at Raven Rock in Pennsylvania with the military leaders, balked at the thought of invoking the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to force the president to step aside until he got well. Chandler believed the VP might think otherwise if he actually observed President Helton’s actions.

Fortunately, America hadn’t been attacked again. With nuclear missiles, anyway. The threat was now floating above her in the form of nuclear winter—a continuous cloud of gloomy gray that blocked the sun’s rays, effectively starving the living on Earth. Reality was setting in for everyone, especially the president.

Monday, October 28

Near South Lake Tahoe, California

“Dirty snow,” muttered Owen as they got on the road again. “I can’t believe the fires have thrown out this much ash so quickly.”

Lacey repositioned her fanny in her seat. Ford had come a long way in making a comfortable riding spot for passengers since 1967. “You know, Peter said the war between India and Pakistan could cause what he called nuclear winter. That may be part of it.”

“That wasn’t even a week ago, Mom,” added Tucker.

“Your uncle said it was possible,” said Lacey, who turned sideways to address her son. “What else was in that medical kit?”

Tucker searched under their jackets and found one of the two-inch-thick, flat boxes. He poured the contents into his lap, where he examined them one by one.

“Well, here’s a first aid book, sort of. It’s really a booklet stapled together.”

“What’s it called?” Owen asked.

“Where there is no doctor,” Tucker replied. “It looks like instructions on first aid stuff to do on your own.”

His mom reached into the back seat, and Tucker gave her the booklet. “What else?”

“Here are four packets of tablets called IOSAT.” He turned the package slightly so the small amount of sunlight that filtered through the sky helped him read the fine print. “Potassium iodide. Thyroid blocking in a radiation emergency.”

Owen glanced at Lacey and then back at Tucker. He tried to maintain his composure while inside, he was cursing himself for not going through the supplies sooner. Of course , he thought to himself, the contents of the kit would be directly related to radiation exposure .

“Will you pass those up to your mom so we can decide if we should be taking them?”

“It might be too—” Lacey began before Owen abruptly cut her off.

“We’ve been out less than twenty-four hours.”

“They expired last year, Dad,” said Tucker as he handed them forward.

Owen sighed. “That doesn’t mean they’re bad. Maybe just a little less potent.”

While Lacey examined the packaging, Tucker reported on his next find. “This thing is called a RADTriage radiation detector. It’s like a credit card only it somehow detects radiation. Crap. It expires two years after it’s made.”

“What’s the date on it?” asked Lacey.

Tucker handed it forward. “Ten years ago.”

“That fallout shelter was worthless!” complained Owen. “We had a better chance of dying from being trampled or smoke inhalation than nuclear fallout. I wish we had a Geiger counter or something.”

Lacey shrugged. “They wouldn’t have worked anyway after the nukes hit.”

“Then we have these things,” added Tucker. “Blue surgical masks.”

He handed them to his mom, who shook her head side to side. “Now this is something we needed from the start. If the damn lights hadn’t gone out, we would’ve known about these masks and worn them as we left.”

“Hold on!” yelled Owen.

Without warning, their Bronco was sliding sideways out of control. He’d rounded a curve and suddenly found himself on an icy overpass crossing over a small stream. There were several cars piled together on top of the bridge, blocking their path. Owen, distracted by their conversation, overreacted somewhat and sent Black & Blue into a hard slide toward the guardrail.

He turned into the slide by maneuvering the steering wheel so the front wheels were pointed in the same direction that the rear of the truck was sliding. He’d exaggerated the slide because he forgot to take his foot off the accelerator. When he finally did, the vehicle was sailing sideways toward the pileup.

Suddenly, the front tires grabbed less icy pavement, causing the back to turn completely around. They were now moving backwards toward the pileup. Owen slammed on the brakes, which slowed the Bronco somewhat, but it didn’t prevent it from backing into the side of a red Kia Soul compact.

The impact threw everyone against their seats. The lightweight compact car was too small to damage the steel bumper of the Bronco. However, it did serve to slow their progress toward the pileup. Seconds later, they came to a halt, pointed in the opposite direction, but part of the seven-car wreck.

“Is everyone okay?” asked Owen.

Lacey nodded that she was, and Tucker didn’t reply, as he’d already begun to move the duffel bags around so he could get out.

“Tucker?” asked Lacey.

“Yeah, I’m fine. We gotta get out there. I saw bodies lying in the road.”

Both Lacey and Owen exited the truck simultaneously. After Tucker shuffled bags around, he was out, too. The first thing the three noticed was how cold it was.

“How did it get this cold in just a couple of hours?” asked Lacey.

“We’ve seen it before when we’ve been up this way,” replied Owen.

“Not in October,” she countered.

Tucker handed his parents their jackets, and he walked past them, sliding on his coat as he walked gingerly on the icy overpass. He glanced inside the Kia to confirm it was empty, and then he squeezed past the fender of a pickup truck that had run into the rear of a Chevy Camaro. The Camaro’s trunk lid had been forced upward by the impact.