Jacqueline Druga - Wasteland

“What about the PML? Your men ever been there?”

Bill shook his head. “Not there. City’s been abandoned since it lost power and most folks up north got the plague. Remember, up north they were hit pretty hard with the flu.”

Falcon nodded. “Any dangerous areas?”

“They’re scattered. Now, my man went three months ago and didn’t run into anything he couldn’t handle, but said there are a lot of Forgottens once you get by Lexington. But here’s where you pick the less of the evils. In either event to get near Fort Wayne, you either got to go through Cincinnati and Dayton or Louisville and Indianapolis. Cinci was nuked; Dayton was a hazard. Louisville nuked, Indianapolis bio bombed. Neither is gonna be pretty.”

“But they should be deserted?”

Bill shrugged. “Hard to say. Gonna have people everywhere—living on the roads, off the roads, the Forgottens.”

Falcon shuddered at the mention of ‘The Forgottens.’ That was a name the locals, and those who went north, gave to those who had survived the nuclear attacks years ago. Off spring of the survivors, some say, weren’t in their right minds.

When the larger nuclear exchange occurred, the country stopped, paused and thought about ending the war. But instead of helping the survivors, the war continued and those in the hot zones had to fend for themselves.

“Let me ask you one more question,” Falcon said. “Should I not take the kids?”

“I don’t think you’ll run into anything out there you can’t handle. Make sure you’re armed and have bartering tools.”

“No, I’m talking about what they’ll see. Destroyed cities, remnants of the past…”

“That’s the number one reason to take them,” Bill said. “We shelter all our children here. They know the good of the past, but not the bad. They know something happened to the world, but haven’t a clue what. It’s like a book. It’s a world, but it really doesn’t exist. I don’t have any young ones, but if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be building a By the Waters of Babylon World for them.”

Falcon had to laugh. “A what?”

“ By the Waters of Babylon was a short story. My mother loved it. She made me read it. It’s about these kids that venture into what are called forbidden zones and discover there was a whole civilization before them. What we’re doing with our children is similar. We tell them only good, and soon, we won’t tell them anything at all. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. In a few years we may protect them more by not allowing them to venture out. Maybe even tell them those areas are poison to keep them safe.”

“I wanted to take them to see, that was my reasoning. So they can know.”

“And that, my friend, is the best reason. It ain’t gonna scar them because they never saw it the way it was. Understand? They see a burnt city, crumbling. It’s nothing to them because they didn’t see that city in its glory. Sort of like… ok,” Bill held up his hand. “You probably won’t understand this, but the ruins of the coliseum in Rome. Folks looked at them in awe of what once was. But if a Roman soldier time traveled and saw the ruins, he would be devastated, because he saw the coliseum when it was in its glory. Make sense?”

“Yes. Yes. It does. Thank you.” Falcon offered a firm handshake.

“You’re welcome, and please. Bring us back information,” Bill said.

“I will. I will.” Filled with knowledge and confidence, along with a little excitement, Falcon left Bill’s home and readied for his journey.

Thankfully Falcon was on leave, between tours, when the strike happened. It happened over the course of three days. Back then there were still radios, and a community television in town picked up the government station.

Before the country divided between East and West, there was much of an Eastern government, but there was one. It just didn’t have the resources or manpower that the West had.

The nuclear weapons used were no bigger then the historic ones dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki—enough to cause destruction, flatten most of a city, crumble the citizens and throw the military into disarray.

Twelve American cities were hit. No rhyme or reason for the strikes. Falcon supposed it was just whatever was convenient.

Stacy was a mess over it all. “Please tell me they’ll stop. Please,” she said over news that Louisville was hit.

Falcon reassured her that the weapon was small and the radiation wouldn’t be that bad.

Soon, America retaliated with its own strikes, bigger ones. It didn’t escalate.

It stopped.

They actually celebrated in town, thinking it ended the war, but within days, messenger came for Falcon that he was to report for duty outside of Former Louisville.

He was to police the undamaged streets and look for survivors. He wore a radiation suit that whole time and wondered how much damage he was doing to his body, despite the suit.

Three months on, three months off to repair any radiation damage.

One of the first days he was policing the vacant streets, Falcon found a broken cell phone.

“What’s that you got?” another soldier asked.

“A relic of the past,” Falcon replied.

The soldier laughed. “The Past? They just aren’t working right now. They will again. Give it time.”

Falcon disagreed, but didn’t say so; he just nodded, dropped the phone and continued on. But that cell phone, working or not, was the last one he held in his hand, ever.

The cold front came in six months post nuclear attack and some called it a mini ice age. They said places like Pittsburgh and Albany were buried in snow.

Falcon could only imagine, since the farm had stayed under two feet of snow for two months. It started falling in September and by December, when the temperatures really plummeted, it turned to ice.

It took a year for temperatures to start to rise and almost another year for the snow to melt. But the ground was good after that, the best it ever was. Things grew. Everyone hoped it was a renewal.

But the war continued and the ozone had been compromised. Two more harvests and things spiraled down hill.

Joshua was conceived in the second year of the cold. That amazed Falcon because he was certain the radiation had killed all his sperm. He never got sick, but he never grew anymore hair.

But Josh was healthy and as big as a horse when he was born.

Lilly, on the other hand, was the miracle baby.

Not her conception, but her birth.

Stacy swore up and down that the baby in her belly kept her safe from getting ill. Just about the time she got pregnant with Lilly, bio weapons were used all over and it spread a germ that began a pandemic like no other.

Stacy, being a nurse, felt she needed to take care of the ill.

She kept Joshua though, and her father, sealed in the kitchen and side room of the house, quarantined from everyone.

But she herself felt protected.

She was wrong.

Just as the pandemic slowed to a crawl and quarantines across the country were lifted, Stacy got sick very sick.

At almost nine months pregnant, Falcon was summoned home.

Like 95% of all those who caught the plague, Stacy wasn’t going to make it.

Falcon made it home in time. Stacy’s neck was blue from swelling; she could barely breathe and talk. Each time she coughed, she struggled to get her breath again. Worst of all her fever raged.

There was one doctor remaining in town. He was at the farm. Stacy had been there for so many of the sick; he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side.

“She won’t make it through the night,” the doctor said.

Falcon held her had, Stacy was out of it, non responsive. As he placed his forehead to her belly, he felt the baby kick. ‘The baby is still alive?” he asked.