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

“Honestly,” she said, slapping Max on the arm.

“You finally, really did it. You maniacs! You blew it up! God damn you! God damn you all to hell!” Freddy said, raising a fist in the air.

“Nice,” Terrence said, nodding.

“I thought we needed a great closing line for a movie that we didn’t get to finish.”

“Oh, we’ll finish it,” said the director. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

Eve of Destruction was just a movie about average people going about their day as usual until the unthinkable happened on the day they accidentally nuked Arkansas.

The best they could do was to hope that the apocalypse and post-apocalypse wouldn’t be as bad as anyone imagined. But if they were, the human race would adapt—as it always had—and survive.

And with a big, loud bang, everything is gone. A bright white light flashes over the landscape of Griffin City. A mushroom cloud fills up the atmosphere. A firestorm sweeps across the land. Buildings explode, burn, and crumble. People are vaporized—their skin melts and their skeleton disintegrates into dust. After, there are human monsters, scarred with radiation burns and charred skin. As time passes, people lose their hair. Blackened bodies litter the rubble where buildings once stood. Animal carcasses flood farms. A white ash covers every inch of the city. Society crumbles much like the concrete and steel. Vandalism and murder are the norm. There is no electrical power; medical care, food, and water are almost nonexistent. But Destiny got lucky, as she was locked in the cellar below Old Barnaby’s Farm with a few of her friends.

For seven days Destiny and her new ragtag group of mutants lived, argued, and tried to survive. But not everyone made it out alive. Fallout was too strong for some immune systems. And the one shining light in the cellar, the one who was nice to everyone, the one who had a wicked layup, was found drooling blood. Rodney died in Destiny’s arms. A single tear rolled down her cheek as Rodney’s body shook from the radioactive particles as they took hold in his bloodstream. Sadly, he didn’t get his mutant powers.

Destiny knew that Rodney would not die in vain. She would make it her life’s mission to avenge his death. Though she wouldn’t know the extent of her powers until she was called to save the city from unknown forces that seek to destroy what is left. She is a mutated child of a new revolution called to protect the future—and the future is now.

It’s been thirty years since half the state of Arkansas was nuked by an accidental intercontinental thermonuclear bomb detonation. It was a Broken Arrow accident. It was Hollywood’s fault.

Mad Max was right all along. Hollywood would do something idiotic and the government would cover it up.

It’s the sixtieth anniversary of the novella Eve of Destruction , and it’s the thirtieth anniversary of the movie that never quite was. Documentaries have been made and I’ve been interviewed many times by many a magazine, newspaper, and tabloid. I am the girl who survived. I am the girl who lived to tell the tale. My book, The Incredible True Story of the Making of Eve of Destruction , went on to be a bestseller that was shelved in the fiction section, all because no one wanted to believe what happened, happened.

But it did.

Even if it took decades for the truth to finally come out.

Not many believe it. How could they? It sounds farfetched. The United States of America nuked themselves in a Broken Arrow event. Not even Hollywood could make up a story that fantastic. It wasn’t some evil power that did us in. We did it to ourselves.

Speaking of Hollywood, they’re now making a movie about my book—the making of the making of the movie that resulted in the state of Arkansas being decimated and the fallout extending to the lower eastern seaboard.

Hundreds of thousands of people were affected by that day on Crow Mountain. And it was covered up by the powers that be. When we walked out of that fallout shelter that day into what Max would later claim to be a truly Mad Max wasteland—it was our new reality. We were never the same. It was dark, cold, and silent. No one ever truly understood the silence. Only a few survived living so close to ground zero. Only when FEMA arrived and took charge of the situation did everyone fully realize it wasn’t the Russians who attacked us. However, it wasn’t until ten years later that it become public knowledge.

It was a man with a camera and his powerful lens cap that caused a chain reaction that caused the ICBM to explode.

Cinematographer Dylan Paige was the scapegoat. Sadly, he was the first to be silenced. Conspiracy theories ran wild. But then he went to work for the government. He was responsible for the propaganda films that you see today, like Fallout Bad . In a way, Mr. Paige went to work rewriting history.

The rest of us weren’t so lucky.

Everyone wants to know what happened to the Griffin Flat Ten.

I’ll tell you.

Here’s how we ended up:

Terrence and I received confirmation from the people in charge that everyone close to us was dead. There were no bodies, so we didn’t get visual confirmation. But they waited the appropriate time and decided to make it official in written form. Not a lot of people survived. It took me and Terrence forever to grieve. We were in shock and disbelief over the fact that we witnessed a fireball in the sky. We waited forever for the bomb to drop and then it did, sort of. Terrence and I wouldn’t let each other out of sight for the longest time. We were family. We stayed strong because Mom and Dennis would want us to. Dad too. Pops would be happy for how close Terrence and I are. Ms. Wilcox would have probably made a snide remark but been glad her son didn’t have to go on living alone.

We were relocated to a small town in Colorado. The air was crisp. It was perfect for our damaged respiratory systems. Once the fallout from the actual fallout happened we were able to live our lives, though the government liked to keep tabs on us.

Terrence and I remained close. We even share a driveway. He is the best brother ever. He works at a radio station, where he plays the music of his youth.

Max has finally let me and others see his drawings. He’s also a published writer of science fiction romance novels. He writes under the pen name Axm Griffin.

Freddy has become my best friend. We talk almost every day. His acting career has flourished. He’s producing the movie version of my book, and his son—who may or may not have a tail—is going to be playing him in the movie. Freddy is also Max and I’s backer for our venture into television. A network channel is bringing comic books to the screen, and we think Teenage Mutant will have appeal. Just as long as they don’t whitewash our stories.

Astrid became one of those recluse celebrities, though she’s rumored to have a tell-all book coming out. I doubt it. The government didn’t look too kindly upon my version of events.

Sadly, Owen never regained his sight. He has, however, found his calling in science-fiction stories told through different lenses. His new work is a spin-off of a Star Wars kind of series. It’s full of humor and heart. He’s been trying to get Astrid to star in one of the walk-on roles, but she keeps declining his offer.