John Irvin: Pochatok

“Where are we going?” Gideon asked as the Jeep’s engine growled and they lurched forward back onto the street.

“A bunker,” the General responded, then he said no more.

Gideon decided not to push it for now and turned his focus to the city streets around them.

It seemed like everyone and their mother had decided to take to the streets.

Crowds of pedestrians flooded out, blocking traffic, yelling at each other. Others danced around waving beer or other alcoholic beverages in their hands.

Some people started throwing rocks, sending store windows crashing in shatters to the sidewalks.

Gideon couldn’t believe his eyes—it was like everyone’s sanity button had been flipped off.

The whole city had gone loony.

“Anarchy is the precursor to the end.” General Cole muttered to no one in particular. “People know it’s coming and there’s nothing they can do about it, so they resort to the baser urges.”

Gideon could barely hear what his father was saying over the din of the ruckus around them while they drove out of the suburban area. His eyes caught sight of someone.

“Stop the car!” He yelled.

The General slammed on the breaks and yanked his face toward his son.

“Why?”

Gideon pointed to a couple of people who were rushing down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the intersection the Jeep had stopped in the middle of.

One was a middle-aged man with silvered hair, he was clasping tight to a red-haired woman who appeared the same age as Gideon.

“I know them!” Gideon answered. “That’s Lynda Brodunvich and her Dad. She went to my high school! We need to pick them up!”

General Cole studied the two people who were obviously frightened and trying to avoid the maniac crowds. He then glanced at his son and met those brown eyes which stared back at him in a determined gaze.

“All right,” he nodded and turned the steering wheel before tapping the gas peddle.

Gideon waved to the couple and motioned for them to hurry over.

The older man hesitated at first, but when his dark eyes noticed the high-ranking military uniform worn by the General, he nodded and ushered his daughter forward. They both jumped into the back seat, shoving the heavy-laden backpack to the other side.

“Lynda,” Gideon turned to look them both over. “Remember me?”

The young lady studied him inquisitively for a brief moment as the Jeep raced down the street, zipping around stalled cars or ranting lunatics.

“I think I do,” she nodded, her baby-blue eyes finally sparkled. “Wait… Gideon Cole?” She turned to her father and exclaimed, “He’s Gideon Cole from Walnut Creek High.”

“I think I remember you,” her Dad greeted Gideon with a handshake. His eyes said the opposite but he was thankful for these strangers’ rescue. Turning to Gideon’s Dad, he asked.

“Do you have some place safe to go or just trying to get out of this insane city before the bombs drop?”

General Cole met the man’s gaze through the rearview mirror.

“I know of a safe place. What’s your name, Sir?”

“Maxim,” the man replied. “And yours, Sir?”

“Lieutenant General Liman Cole, but you can call me Liman. Good to meet you. I remember your daughter coming over a couple of times when Gideon was just a teenager. Maybe it was one of his other friends’ birthday parties or his, I don’t know. It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, it has,” Gideon agreed. He smiled at Lynda, wondering if the same memories flooding his brain at the moment were doing the same to hers.

The smile was slapped from his face when the loud clap of a gunshot ricocheted from a nearby mob group.

Blood splattered on Gideon’s face.

Jerking his head back, he nearly vomited. Before his eyes slammed shut to keep the blood from entering them, he watched Maxim’s head explode in half.

Lynda screamed.

General Cole yanked the steering wheel, his knuckles white with the strain of keeping himself under control. It had been years since he’d been in a hostile environment—he’d served in the Middle East before and been shot at hundreds of times.

Gideon tasted acid in the back of his throat as he tried to calm Lynda down.

She was in hysterics, clinging to her father whose brains were now spilling out on the back seat’s headrest.

“Lynda!” Gideon hollered, reaching for her only to have his hand slapped away.

“They killed him,” she screamed again, pulling his head down to rest against her shoulder as she hugged Maxim’s corpse.

“Lynda, Dear,” Liman looked at the young lady in his rearview mirror. “I’m sorry he’s gone. We can’t stop now or we will be killed.”

“I don’t care! I’d rather die with him!” She blurted out.

“Do you think that’s what he would want? Do you think your father would want you to give up?” The General’s tone was enough to get anyone to snap to attention.

Lynda merely remained silent as she hung onto the body.

“Now, in a few minutes, these animals are going to get what’s coming to them.”

“Dad?” Gideon exclaimed. He’d never heard his father say such vengeful words.

The General made eye contact with his son, letting him know, he didn’t truly agree with his own words. He had to keep the girl from going into hysterics again. But, then again, if people were going to murder each other, maybe a fiery death was what they deserved.

“We’re almost out of the city.” General Cole informed. “As soon as we cross that bridge two miles north of us, we’ll be out of the blast zone, I think.”

Gideon caught himself searching the skies behind them. He wondered just how long it would be before he saw that dreaded trail of smoke announcing the end of the world.

“After the bridge, how much farther to the bunker?” He asked his father.

“About ten miles, it’s a small-looking mountain. We actually planted a forest of Blue spruce on it. Although, the aftershock from the bomb just might blow those down, depending on how far it goes. Come to think of it, we might lose power and have to walk the rest of the way.”

Gideon nodded.

The seconds ticked by while the Jeep roared down the highway.

Lynda was now reduced to sniffling, her arms still wrapped around the body in the backseat.

Gideon gritted his teeth. He could see the bridge.

It was only a block away.

Something hissed in the sky behind them.

The tell-tale whistle grabbed everyone’s attention.

General Cole clenched his jaw, he knew what it was without looking. He had to keep his total focus on the path ahead if they were going to make it. Pressing his foot harder against the gas pedal, he felt his entire body go tense.

“Dad?” Gideon was turned around, staring at the sky behind them.

“I know,” Liman snapped, jerking the wheel to the left in order to avoid a collision with a stranded car in front of them.

Gideon watched the tiny shadow of the nuclear missile as it dropped from the sky.

Then it disappeared behind the city’s sky scrapers.

His right hand covered his eyes on instinct when a bright light drenched the buildings in blinding rays.

Next came the ominous thunder, chasing after the escaping Jeep like a cheetah hunting its prey.

“Dad!” Gideon could see the wall of debris racing toward their rear.

“I know!” The General shouted just as the front tires hit the crack where the bridge met the highway.

The Jeep’s tires whined as they spun across the bridge.

They were a fourth of the way across when the blast wave hit.

The Jeep screamed along with Lynda as it was launched into the air, its rear tires ripped off their axle. When the vehicle returned to the pavement, it hit sideways and rammed into the bridge’s guardrail. The momentum wasn’t phased, the Jeep flipped over the side of the bridge and slammed into the river below.