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

The Radio Station plays a message.

JAMES, HELEN, HANK, and JACKSON grab hands.

HANK squeezes HELEN’s hand.

JAMES turns to HELEN and looks at HANK.

HELEN shrugs and looks at HANK, biting her bottom lip.

HELEN lets go of JAMES’s and HANK’s hands.

HELEN takes JAMES’s hand and then HANK’s hand.

A bright light flashes across the sky.

JAMES, HELEN, and JACKSON turn away. HANK looks right into the flash and instantly becomes blind.

HANK screams.

“And cut!”

We cheered and jumped and celebrated. Sure, we were covered in dirt, and the sky was covered in ash and fire and dust, and it looked real—too real. But we celebrated.

“Skeet outdid himself,” Mr. Edman said, clapping. “Bravo. Bravo.”

Dylan kept filming. B-roll, or whatever it was called. The director went over to Tyson and took the walkie-talkie out of his hand.

Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”

Silence.

Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”

Silence.

Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy? What’s your twenty?”

Silence.

Nothing. “Absolutely nothing.”

It was quiet. Really quiet. Too quiet. No animals were making noise. No vehicles were on the interstate, but the police had stopped them when Skeet set off the explosions for safety reasons.

Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”

Skeet: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

Skeet: “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

Skeet: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

Skeet: “Run, run, run, run, go, go, go, go, go, go—”

Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”

Nothing. Silence.

“Well, that was strange,” the director said, handing the walkie-talkie back to Tyson. “I wonder if he thought the explosion was going to be that big.”

The three of them witnessed the attacks on Pikesville. The citizens did not make it to their shelters in time. The planned government-issued Civil Defense drill across the nation failed. Unbeknownst to all, it was a surprise attack. “This might be a bomb” turned out to actually be one.

The sky to the northeast glowed brilliant in the midmorning sun. The damage was extensive, but the three who witnessed the atomic blast on the mountaintop did not know just how extensive.

We stood on the side of Crow Mountain and stared out at the horizon. There was a lot of smoke, and it reached high into the atmosphere. Fires were raging. Lots of them.

“This doesn’t look right,” the bus driver said.

“What doesn’t look right?” Tyson asked.

“Did your explosives guy just blow up half of Arkansas?”

“Nah,” Tyson said, shaking his head.

Owen stood off to the side, his eyes giving him a lot of problems. He still couldn’t see. How much solution had they given him to dilate his eyes? He had a handkerchief in his pocket and somehow twisted it and flipped it and wrapped it around his eyes and tied it behind his head. He leaned up against the bus and scooted himself down on the dirty, dusty ground.