Bobby Akart - Armageddon

Nobody cared.

Soon, refugees were exiting the three storage spaces, clutching boxes of food and barrels of water. One person even carried a wooden chair high over his head that had once been used in the gymnasium. Another held two battery-operated Coleman lanterns in each hand, with a dusty box of batteries tucked under his arm.

“Hold these,” said Tucker as he handed his haul to his dad. “I’m going back for more.”

The officer shouted at the top of his lungs. “Back off, everybody! I said back the hell off!”

When more people pressed forward, he followed through with his threat. Alarmed, he pulled his SABRE law-enforcement-grade pepper spray and deployed a quick burst into the crowd in front of him.

This panicked the group, who quickly turned away. Now a stampede of people was forcing their way back toward the front as if an otherworldly being were teasing a dog with a cookie. As they crashed into one another, they began to lose their balance and fall. Some tried to assist their fellow refugees up. Others knocked those in the way to the ground and trampled over the fallen.

The whistle continued to blare. The officer continued to order the occupants of the shelter to stand down. The McDowells continued to stand in the corner, making every attempt to avoid physical or verbal contact with the crazed mob.

“Would everyone please calm down?” shouted the coach. “Stop where you are! Please!”

Perhaps it was his begging, or the simple fact that he asked nicely. But the crowd suddenly calmed itself. Following the crowd was a natural human tendency. Human nature lent itself to living and moving in groups. All at once, it seemed, the refugees seemed to work as one. Fortunately, it was to establish calm rather than turn their stay in the shelter into a deadly riot.

Coughing and sniffling could be heard by those directly affected by the pepper spray. Some removed their coats and waved them over their heads to cause the propellant to dissipate. Most everyone covered their nose and mouth with their shirts.

“Thank you,” the coach said calmly, in a slightly elevated tone so he could be heard. “If we all work together, we can decide what to do next, and also we can figure out a way to get comfortable.”

“Are you gonna open the door?”

“What about a bathroom?”

“Do you have anything for my children to eat?”

The coach raised his hands and spoke louder. “Those are all good questions, but let’s take one thing at a time. First, I wasn’t trained on how to operate this facility. I was simply the man with the key to the door. However, after what happened overseas, I studied up on what to do.”

“Shouldn’t we stay here?” asked a woman in front.

“Yes, ma’am. I believe we should. Of course, we don’t know what happened outside. However, I feel confident we didn’t take a direct hit here. That doesn’t mean we’re entirely in the clear. There could be more nukes, and then there’s the fallout.”

“The fallout can’t reach us in Auburn!” a man shouted from the center of the room.

“Sir, we don’t know that because we don’t know where the nuke was detonated. Plus, I learned there are a lot of factors, including winds, humidity, and the size of the warhead.”

“I heard we need to stay in here for two weeks,” another man chimed in.

“Well, that may be true if Sacramento was the target,” countered the coach. “I personally don’t think it was high on any of our enemies’ lists. The more likely scenario is the Bay Area. That’s two hours from here.”

“What does that mean for us?” a man next to the McDowells asked.

“Two days,” the coach replied.

The chorus of experts began to dominate the discussion.

“No way! Fourteen days at a minimum!”

“You’re nuts! Even in the movies, seven days is the max!”

“I don’t want to stay in here another minute!”

“Same here. If it hit the coast, we’re safe.”

“Didn’t you feel the ground shake?”

“That doesn’t mean shit!”

The officer began to blow the whistle again, and he held the canister of pepper spray high over his head. He lit it up with his flashlight to show the group he meant business. He weighed in with his opinion.

“Our department has trained for this scenario in the past, and the coach is right. Forty-eight hours is the bare minimum. We can handle that.”

The crowd turned in unison to address the officer.

“What about the food and water?”

“Are there sleeping bags?”

“How about pillows?”

“There’s no room to lie down, morons!”

The officer blew the whistle again. Tucker covered his ears and shook his head in disgust. His ears were starting to ring.

The officer ignored their questions and shouted, “Make way in the middle to allow the coach to get through! He and I will divvy up what we have. First, we need to take inventory, and to do that, everyone who grabbed something earlier needs to bring it back.”

Lacey and Owen shared a glance before surreptitiously hiding their packages behind their backs against the wall. Tucker noticed what they’d done, so he stood in front of them to give them cover.

Reluctantly, the people who’d carried off drums of water and cases of food brought them back. The crowd cooperated and made way for the coach to join the police officer at the back of the shelter. Together, they took a quick inventory. With the help of some of the more cooperative refugees, they reorganized the three storage rooms.

The first room, located farthest away from the McDowells, was used as a latrine. Several toilet-height barrels marked SK III Sanitation Kits were lined up along the back wall.

The coach tried to use a Coleman lantern to provide some light for the users of the latrine, but the batteries’ useful life had expired. The man who had been near Tucker earlier volunteered his flashlight for the toilet users, who would roll down the door for privacy.

The middle storage room was used for food and water distribution. The cases of freeze-dried food were divided into groups of six or seven. Because the shelter held twice as many occupants as its capacity, each person was allocated one meal per day. The meal was supplemented with a sleeve of saltine crackers that seemed to be in abundance.

Finally, the third storage room nearest Lacey and her family held a variety of supplies, including the items they’d already retrieved. Lacey was confident they’d packed everything they needed into the Expedition and their vintage 1967 Ford Bronco. If there was something useful, they’d take backups from what the fallout shelter offered.

It was nearing three in the morning on the west coast, and exhaustion had set in for most of the refugees. Tucker was hyped up, so he suggested his parents sleep. He’d take the first shift, as he called it. Using their lightweight jackets rolled up around the small boxes Tucker had obtained, they stretched out against the wall while their son made sure nobody stepped on them.

It was gonna be a long, uncomfortable forty-eight hours until the doors reopened.

Friday, October 25

Driftwood Key

Marathon, Florida

Hank Albright pushed his way past his brother, Mike, and slowly approached the television mounted behind the bar. Normally at this hour, CNN would be replaying one of their Special Report segments from the night before. Now, CNN International anchor Michael Holmes had taken over the network’s regular broadcasting. The Aussie was visibly shaken and fought back tears as he reported on the events.