“Come on.” I shook my head sadly. “Tammy and Nicky. They… they aren’t doing awesome.”
“From what Craig told me about Tammy. She hasn’t been here much, has she?” Tanner questioned, bringing his face a little closer to mine. “And Nicky, she wasn’t thinking.”
“Neither were we,” I said. “Why didn’t I stop her? I knew she was fooling around with the ash. I should have thought.”
“You’re not responsible for Nicky. You’re not. I don’t think you realize the extent of how far beyond everyone else you people are. Just to see you guys, says it all. I knew the day I saw you. The day I saw Burke. You weren’t like the others out here. You weren’t wandering around, looking for help, causing your death. You guys are smart. The fact that you still spend most of your time in the shelter, tells a lot.”
“Better safe than sorry.” I spoke soft. “I guess I always thought, staying below most of the time early on, would be a preventive medicine. Less exposure, no matter how minimal the radiation levels.”
“And the food. Water. You guys are staying clean. That in itself is preventive medicine. I’m impressed and…” Tanner shifted his eyes toward the door of the shelter, then returned to looking at me. He dropped his voice. “I overheard what Burke said about me.”
“Tanner…”
“No.” He shook his head with a partial smile. “I’d like to answer his question.” He hesitated, taking in a deep breath. “In this world, you can’t be alone anymore. You can… but it isn’t wise. You have to think ahead. I wasn’t thinking ahead until I met you. You guys have it together. You, Jo, despite all that you’ve been through… you have it together. I don’t have a gain, Jo. I just have no one, and no where else to go.”
Tanner spoke more though the look in his eyes than he did through his words. I saw that as I studied his face. Reaching out, I laid my hand over his and gently gripped his fingers.
Burke’s presence and announcing of, “Coffee’s done,” startled me and made me jerk my hand away as if I were doing something wrong.
“Thanks.” I accepted the coffee.
Burke handed a cup to Tanner, then he took a seat and joined us. “So, Tanner. You’re…”
What Burke started to ask at that second, I didn’t know. I was consumed with my coffee and how wonderful it tasted. I moaned out, sipped again, and ached out my pleasure even louder with an, ‘oh, my God.’
“Jo.” Burke snapped.
“Huh?” I peered over my brim to see them staring at me. “Sorry. It’s good.”
Tanner laughed.
Burke didn’t. “Anyway,” he continued. “What do you know about it?”
I was lost. I hoped Tanner would give some inkling of what was asked of him. He did.
“The barricades?” Tanner nodded. “I guess I know enough. What do you need to know?”
“Biggest question,” Burke said. “Why? Why are we locked down and stuck in the city.”
“Tanner?” I questioned. “Does that mean it’s only us, or only a few cities were hit?”
“No.” Tanner shook his head. “I wish. But, no. To answer your question, Burke. There are a lot of reasons for the barricade. Not just to keep you in here. Sure, the government is trying to get a grip. Trying to keep people from blast areas from going to areas unscathed. Prevent looting, squatting. You know. But, by keeping you here, keeps you safe in another way.”
“How so?” Burke asked.
“Disease,” Tanner answered. “People are dying in the blast areas. Yeah. Burns. Radiation sickness, and a lot of other things. But outside of the major blast areas, to be blunt, people are dying from stupidity. They didn’t see the damage, so they didn’t fear the damage. They went outside when they should have stayed in. They welcome the sunlight when they should have avoided it. They drank the water. If healthy people go to those areas, they put themselves at risk.”
“Well, how long do you think before they die?” Burke asked. “Because we have plans. We have a piece of land a good distance from here. Well water. A small lake. Good shelter. Supplies we took there. I want to move us out.”
“When?” Tanner asked.
“I’d like to move us now. But I promised Jo we’d give it six more days to see if Mona shows up.”
“She’s in Tulsa,” I said.
“She’s toast.” Burke commented.
“Tanner?” I asked. “What do you think?”
Tanner looked at me, his mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he focused on Burke. “Can I tell you something, Burke?”
“By all means.” Burke replied.
“You can’t go. Don’t even try. Hang tight ten or twelve days. Then go. In my opinion the blockades won’t be there, because they won’t be going back up.”
“Whoa. Hold on.” Burke lifted his hand. “Going back up? You make it sound as if they are taking them down.”
“They are,” Tanner said. “For the exact same reason I’m telling you to stay put. And my other motive for coming to talk to Jo tonight.”
“Tanner?” I looked at him. “Is something going on?”
After nodding, Tanner sipped his coffee then began his story, “Today, they called us together. Doctors. Nurses. Military personnel who were in charge and told us that in a minimal of four days, no longer than six, the rescue station shuts down. Closes. We’re supposed to return to post after several days, but who knows if there will be a post to return to.”
“Wait a minute.” I was in desperate need of clarifications. It made absolutely no sense to me. Why give help only to take it away? Tanner held answers. “The rescue station is closing down. But not for good? What about the people already there?”
“We stopped taking patients at six this evening. We’re holding people off. In all honesty, Jo, I don’t think the ones at the station will survive. The ones that can survive. We’re supposed to send them on their way, on their own with instructions.”
“To do what?” I asked.
Tanner paused. “Dig in.”
My eyes closed.”Oh, my God.”
Burke’s heavy exhale conveyed his concern. “We’re getting hit again.”
“Yes,” Tanner answered. “But not in the way that you think. You see, there’s a cloud, a bad one, heading this way. Moving across the globe. Sometimes it is stalemate because of weather conditions, sometimes it moves with more speed. The good news is, it loses potency with distance. The bad news is, when it reaches here, it won’t have lost enough potency. You think you saw gray skies. You think you felt the temperature drop? What we experienced is nothing compared to what is coming.”
More than Tanner realized, I grasped what he said. “The theoretical nuclear winter.”
“Yep,” Tanner said. “It’s about to arrive and arrive with a vengeance.”
Burke slowly shook his head. “I’m lost. What is a nuclear winter?”
I explained, “I told you this before. It’s when the dust and debris blocks out the sun.”
Tanner added, “Only it holds everything in. Air tight. The cold. The radiation. It’s packed with radioactive material.”
“And this is coming our way?” Burke asked. “How do we know?”
“What’s left of the Army’s scientific community has been tracking it.” Tanner answered. “Watching, keeping track as it moves, the effects it has. I have a list they gave us that has the data of its speed, what it did where, and so forth. I can give it to you tomorrow if you’d like.”
I nodded. “Yes, I would. Very much so.”
Burke grunted. “Why?”
“Why?” I chuckled some. “So I can see what we can expect, that’s why.”