Jacqueline Druga-Marchetti - Dust

“Aunt Jo.”

“What the hell is the matter with my TV?”

“On solid basis.” The news anchorman held his earpiece as he spoke barely looking at the camera. “OK. Yes. It is confirmed.”

“Aunt Jo, I wanna watch my movie now.”

“Just give me a minute. Then I’ll put it back on.”

“Via ground implantation, and three low flying aerial attacks…”

“Please, now, Aunt Jo?”

“Simon, let me…”

“Nine nuclear warheads exploded…”

My attention was no longer drawn from the television. It was caught. Right there, I lost my balance. “Oh, my God.”

“On American soil. Experts believe that…”

“Oh my God.” I pulled Simon to me, and turned up the television. “Davy, Davy, wake up. Wake up now.”

“Are not out of danger. You are urged, until this immediate threat has passed to stay indoors.”

Heart thumping from my chest, I hollered. “Davy, get up something is happening.”

Davy looked confused when he sprang up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Finally I stood with weakened legs. Simon argued with me, babbling something about the movie. I didn’t hear him. The blood rushed to my ears in the confusion of the moment. “America’s under attack, Dave.”

“Attack.” He stood. “What kind?”

“Nuclear. At least nine places were hit. They aren’t saying…”

There it was. Oddly enough the sound of it brought a silence to the room. A dead stop to us all. The single beep of the Emergency Broadcasting System.

Davy called my name with worry, “Mom?”

There was a rush-to-move that pumped through my blood. I nearly threw Simon at my son, “Take him to the basement. “ I barked out fast.

“What?” Davy hadn’t even time to comprehend he was holding Simon.

“Take him to the basement now. That’s our warning. Now, Davy.”

Davy hesitated. “But, Mom, what about the basement windows. That’s my job, I have to cover the…”

“Your job is Simon. Take him down. Get him situated and turn off the intake valve to the water and gas. Got it.”

“Yes, but…”

“Go!” My scream made him jolt. Davy headed in the direction of the kitchen where the basement door was located.

Davy looked back at me with a pleading glance. “Please, hurry, Mom,” he urged, then ran with Simon.

I needed to know they were safe and I needed to hear what was going on. The Emergency Broadcast system gave no time frame. Relying on my best knowledge, I had it figured that the shortest warning would give me seven minutes.

Seven minutes. Too much to do. Davy was in the basement and had accomplished at least the task of turning off the water intake valve. I heard the pipes squeak. The water and gas lines were part of a long list of duties I had dictated to be done prior to going into the shelter. A list of duties that would take no more than a few minutes to implement. I created that list, but in my heart and mind, I believed every preparatory action was made in vain. Never once believing the bombs would actually come. But they did and more were on the way. I had to get it together. I was failing. When did I forget it all? Suddenly I was an imbecile standing in my living room staring at the windows and doors, trying to remember if I leave them open or closed.

My thoughts weren’t just in that room, trying to determine what all I had to do. My thoughts went to Matty. My ten-year-old daughter who was four blocks away. I had two ‘rules of thumb’ that I urged upon everyone I knew. I beat it into their brains. Relentlessly, I informed them that should there be an attack, upon warning… take cover. Do not hesitate, do not wait, take cover. And the second rule; if you survived the attack, under no circumstance should you leave your shelter until radiation levels fall.

The rules were fine in theory, but in reality, they seemed shallow. I calculated how long it would take me to get to the school. At seven minutes, even five, I could make it. I could. My mind was made up.

“Matty,” her named seeped from my lips and determined, I pushed for the door.

Flash. White. Bright. Blinding.

My chest immediately filled with an ache and I swore at that moment, the body tremors I experienced would inhibit me from moving. But I did. The option to choose what to do was taken away. I no longer was in a race against the clock to get my daughter; I was in a race against the blast to get downstairs. Mustering up the thought, ‘My God this isn’t happening,’ I bolted toward the kitchen.

Six feet.

The small foyer that I always complained about become my ally, I hit the kitchen in three good steps. My foot slid on the linoleum as I made a quick, sharp turn to my left, grabbed the basement door and flung it open.

Five seconds, maybe less, then it began. A deep, resonating, ‘boom’ in the distance caused a ringing in my ears. The howling winds grew louder, closer, faster, approaching like a locomotive raging forth, and I leapt the remaining five stairs, landing on the concrete floor. What started out as a rattle, turned into a major quake. How I retained my ability to run is beyond me. I spotted the cold cellar in the deep corner of the basement. My goal. My salvation. The door was slightly ajar, and I grasped for it, opened it a little bit more then hurriedly slipped in.

Davy held Simon as they stood center of the small eight by eight room. I wasn’t inside that room a split second when I charged out, pointing, scolding, “In the corner!”

It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. I knew it. There was no way, in the shelter or not, we were guaranteed safe. A cheap mattress hung on the wooden door; I reached under, and secured the latch.

The noise level was deafening. Quaking mixed with a sense of crushing pressure, and the destructive winds seemed to scream demonically as they beat against our sanctuary.

Simon cried. I could see that on his face, but couldn’t hear a resemblance of sound come from him. Like a silent movie, his mouth moved, and the end of the world was the background music. They were against the far wall, and Davy clutched diligently to Simon.

Simon reached for me, and I caught a peep of Davy screaming my name. Arms extended to keep my balance, I glanced to the ceiling. Dirt immediately fell into my eyes and hit me at the same time a fear that everything above us would collapse. The ‘cushion’ mattress that was propped against the wall had fallen to the floor. Grabbing it, I slid it with me in my race to the far corner, dropped to the floor and brought it over us in a protective manner as I huddled with Davy and Simon. The weight of the mattress was more so on my back. I shook out of control, clinging to Davy and Simon with dear life, hovering them as if my thin body would be a great shield. Eyes closed tight, mind reciting prayers in supersonic speed; my soul beckoned an end to the madness.

Was it the house? The ground ripping apart? What caused that last noise, I do not know, but I’ll remember that sound forever. An earsplitting ‘crack’ triggered us all to scream. Then it was over.

Silence.

It lasted all of thirty seconds, but it was the longest thirty seconds of my entire life.

A safety time frame exists from the initial explosion until the arrival of radiation. Many people aren’t even aware of this. Sure there is danger within the snow-like fallout, but the true invisible killer arrives around a half an hour later. It seeps through the air and through ultra violet lighting. So not only is blackening out the windows important, thickening them is crucial as well.

The clothes intended for donation to the thrift store were stacked in plastic bags on the basement floor. Davy and I used them to block out the windows; they fit nicely in the window well space. He held them. I secured them with tape. It was a task we took on immediately, one that was always incorporated into the plan. Six bags always remained in the basement. No less. Never was a bag removed unless another was there to replace it. As odd as it sounds, we were fortunate for a few things. Davy was able to shut down the water heater affording us extra water. A few of those thrift store bags contained ‘wearable’ clothes that would be useful later on, and I had just laundered the heavy blankets and bedding to store for the summer. They were folded on the table.