Amy Brashear - The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction

“Me too.”

“And I wish that Mr. Meyer didn’t require us to write out the questions too. I mean, come on. I hate that man.”

“I had him last year. I got Mom to make sure that I didn’t have him this year.”

“I should have done that. We have new partners in science today,” he said.

“For you,” I said with a laugh.

“I’ve been thinking about pulling the shower string,” he said, nodding.

“Do it. It’s liberating.”

“Mr. Truitt would smell a conspiracy. Two of his smartest students breaking the rules.”

“Oh, I love a good conspiracy,” I said.

“Me too,” he said, leaning in close. I could smell his foul Cheetos breath. “Did you know there have been twenty-six nuclear tests this year?”

“Is that a lot?” I asked.

“There’ve been two this month alone. France and the USSR did tests. This year the USSR have done sixteen; we, the United State, have done six, France has done three; and Great Britain has done one. At least, that’s all that I could find. We’ve probably done more than six. But sixteen for the USSR, shit—this is scary as hell. If it does happen, I would want to be vaporized right away. Fuck getting cooked and being in agonizing pain.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“Classified.”

I side-eyed him. And then he spilled. “Hacking,” he said.

WarGames certainly did a number on him.

“I think all these sirens are getting us ready for the big one,” he said.

“I hope not,” I said.

“Come on. The big bang to end all big bangs. Isn’t your dad preparing for World War Three?”

He had me there. And he had me somewhere else: my dad lived in a world of classified information. Just like 1984 . What a book to have an anniversary. I hoped I was as smart as George Orwell when I grew up. It would be nice to know the nightmares that occurred to me now would manifest themselves thirty-six years later.

They probably would. The whole state of Arkansas was almost a cover-up. Four years ago, it was almost erased from existence after a nuclear missile silo accident. It meaning Arkansas. Thankfully, nothing happened, and we Arkansans were saved, meant to live another day to tell the ordeal, which hardly anyone would believe. Arkansas almost nuked themselves. Max would like to say how could we tell the difference? Ha. Ha. Very funny. But seriously. American flags would have to be replaced; instead of fifty stars, there would only be a need for forty-nine.

We, as make-believe historians, like to rewrite history.

Maybe we are Oceania and Mr. Meyer is Big Brother himself.

We were averaging three sirens a week, which wasn’t normal at all. Since the start of the school year (school started two months ago), we’d had thirty-four of what our parents would call duck-and-cover drills. It was easy to say that the administration was overreacting, but was it? The editor of the Shiner News assigned me an article for the school paper on why there were so many sirens in early October. I dug and dug. I had some findings but nothing concrete. No one gave their name. I even went to my dad and asked, but he couldn’t tell me anything, and most definitely wouldn’t go on record, and wouldn’t be anonymous either. No one would be my Deep Throat. [46] The name of the secret informant who gave information to Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein that led to Watergate and the eventual resignation of President Richard Nixon. When I turned my story in to the editor, who turned it into our advisor (we don’t have a free press at GFHS), it was redacted so much that the only thing left was my name, and that was misspelled. The editor still hadn’t fixed my byline, even though I told her half a dozen times that my name is Laura , not Lauren .

“I’m telling you, Laura, the BOOM is coming,” Max said, using his hands to show an explosion.

People were wrong; just because you have lemons does not mean you have to make lemonade—the same argument goes for a nuclear bomb.

“I’m afraid we won’t live past tomorrow,” I said.

We were in agreement.

He’d been hard hit in his family too. The sickness of a questionable tomorrow. You know—my granny believed in the Rapture. Like Jesus descending from heaven to take all the believers back with him. Saving them from all the trials, tribulation, and damnation. Don’t get the mark. And pray like it’s your last prayer ever. She lives for today by making sure she has a tomorrow in heaven. She does that by, of course, sending hundreds of dollars, money she doesn’t have, to Reverend Lowry. But Max’s family’s version of a questionable tomorrow was different. His mom was racking up the credit card debt. Max told me they were in dire financial troubles, but it wouldn’t matter. There was not going to be a tomorrow. A nuke was going to take care of that.

“Well, I’ve got western civ, English, lunch, and then chemistry. On the upside, I’m one chemical spill away from superpowers,” he said, grabbing his lab sheet to finish before the bell rang. “What do we call the science of classifying living things?” he asked.

“Racism?”

“Good one. I’m going to write that down. Maybe Mr. Truitt has a sense of humor today.”

“Do you ever wonder if we’re living in a world where the tin-foil hats are right?” I asked.

“Every single day of my life.”

Windows are not safe zones, so stay clear.

Electronic devices will not work, so no need to carry your Walkman around.

Air quality may be low, so refrain from taking as many large breaths as possible.

Radiation is everywhere, so find radiation-free zones like your local library or fire station.

Environments may change because of events, so summer may come early this year.

Food will be affected by radiation, so find alternatives to food.

Umbrellas, though unproven, may be used as fallout protection.

Clothing should be removed because of radiation absorption. No need to feel embarrassed if your skin is falling off.

Kitchen appliances lined with lead may be effective in shielding from the blast. However, it is unproven and untested.

Energy should not be wasted on activities not pertinent to survival. Please refrain from coitus so to avoid mutated offspring.

Do not stand during the blast. Items of taller height are most effected by the explosion. Bending over and placing your head firmly between your legs is a good strategy due to stability and overall awareness.

Thank You. And Please Enjoy Your Stay At The Flat Inn.

I was reading 1984 comfortably on the couch when the phone rang. It was Mom.

“We’ll get back to our normal life soon, but for now I need you both to step up,” Mom said, as if we were new to this family. Also, she’d neglected to say “hello.” But I got it. Both Mom and Dennis worked. I had done my own laundry for years now. When Terrence was at his mom’s, I was usually at home alone or until Dennis got off work.

“Get dinner at the diner. Don’t wait for us. It’s going to be another late one.”

I hung up the phone right when Terrence came in through the garage.

“We’re supposed to get dinner at the diner,” I said.

“Let me change and we’ll go.”

I turned on the TV and slumped in the wingback pink chair. The same chair Mom would make me sit in during time-outs. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Kids Incorporated [47] A TV program that premiered in 1983 and was set around a musical group. was on. The TV Guide said, Episode 26 Civic Day Parade: Kids Inc. want to make a float for the Civic Day Parade, but everyone wanted to do a tribute to something different. Renee proves that they have to work together in order to make the float spectacular . Cheesy. Stacy’s my favorite. I was probably not the target audience for Kids Incorporated , but it was fun and I liked it. Just like how I liked MTV. Mom and Dennis didn’t care if Terrence and I watched MTV. Max couldn’t. He lived in a pretty strict home. So whenever I was over at his house and we had MTV on, we’d have to have one ear listening for his parents’ vehicle pulling into the driveway. Once we were caught, and he was grounded for a month, and I was labeled as a “bad influence.” I wasn’t allowed over there for two months. Not until the affair was found out by the entire town and my parents’ divorce came through did Max’s mom relent and say I needed a positive influence in my life—whatever that meant.