“She’s right,” Tanner said. “Knowing what it did helps to know what it will do.”
“What will it do?” Burke questioned. “And when?”
“When? Four, five days.” Tanner shrugged. He then proceeded to explain in a frightening ‘matter of fact’ manner. “For certain, we’ll have about a twelve hour window of a warning. It will push through a preliminary cold front. The temperature will drop suddenly. Ten, twenty degrees. Right now, our radiation readouts bounce between one rad per hour and four, depending on the winds. No more than four. When this warning hits, the levels will rise to about ten rads, and increase per hour. By the time the cloud is here full force, you will see the rad levels soar to about fifty per hour, and the temperature will pummel at least another thirty degrees.”
The crackling fire was the only sound in the immediate moments following Tanner’s explanation. Then at last, a little frightened, I spoke up.
“What about the people who don’t know?” I queried.
“If they aren’t prepared, or smart, more than likely, Jo…” Tanner hesitated. “If the radiation doesn’t kill them, the temperature will.”
Hearing that made it physically impossible to swallow. My lips puckered in my attempt. “What about us?”
My question seemed to amuse Tanner. He huffed a small laugh. “I haven’t a doubt, you guys will be just fine.” He winked.
I breathed out slowly, with a nod to my head. “OK. And you know what? We’ll have Craig do a radio call. If someone is listening, we can get the word out.”
Burke agreed, “That’s fair. But we wait until it’s close. OK? The last thing we want is people panicking, and going fuckin’ nuts over this.” He shifted some to face Tanner. “Why is this happening now? I can’t believe it’s taking—it’ll be—three weeks for this cloud to reach us. What? Is it starting from Europe and circling the globe?”
“No.” Tanner shook his head. “It’s starting from the pacific… California. And it isn’t taking two weeks. The war didn’t end two weeks ago. It ended four days ago.”
My immediate response to his words came in the form of a quiet and airy laugh. Tanner had to be joking, or at the very least, misinformed. In the resultant silence he looked at me. I saw it in his eyes.
He was serious.
Tanner continued, “Without getting into who started what, I’ll just tell you, it began with a Mideast exchange that quickly escalated to Europe. I mean within hours. By the time word reached the states, pre-planted nuclear devices had exploded and others were airborne.”
“That would mean ICBMs.” I said in shock, shaking my head. “That can’t be. Intercontinental ballistic missiles? There are very few countries that have that technology, let alone the payload to hit each city with two or three bombs. None of our enemies. Was it accidental? Russia?”
“Nope.” Tanner shook his head. “Unbeknown to us, an unholy union had been formed between Israel and China. They hid behind a facade of peace treaties, trade laws, and brotherhood dedication to the United States. When all the while, for years it had been in the works. You can say it was a modern Blitzkrieg, with a devastating impact. They hit strategically across our country, singling out cities here and there on the west coast; bombarding the east coast pretty much into annihilation. Then… four days after the initial strike.” He paused. “Four-hundred-thousand Chinamen stormed our beach. Straight up and down the west coast. They just…” He released a single chuckle. “Marched upon our soil. We hadn’t the manpower to stop them.” Tanner spoke almost as if in a sad shock. “Damn near made it across Nevada, until we said enough is enough. The US unleashed a ‘no holds barred’ full-scale nuclear attack, not only against China and Israel… but on our own soil as well. We had a choice. Lose it all, or lose twenty percent. So… we blew them back home. The result of all that… is on its way.” Lowering his head some, Tanner brought his hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and breathed heavily into his palm.
Tanner Niles had brought to light that I was blinded by the safety and seclusion of our bomb shelter world. My daydream fantasy that somewhere out there, people were living a happy, normal existence—shattered. It was evident how heavy the truth weighed upon Tanner. A part of me wished he hadn’t said anything.
Finally through the distressed quiet, Burke spoke up, “But it’s over, right? The war’s done. Who won?”
Slowly, Tanner raised his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. Does it?”
19. Concert Tickets
He arrived an acquaintance and left a friend. In the cool darkness warmed by a small campfire, Tanner Niles transformed during the course of his two hour visit. He shared potent news over a strong cup a coffee. Very few words came from Burke the rest of the evening. He went in and out of the shelter quite a bit during the remainder of Tanner’s time with us. When he sat by the fire Burke appeared more in a daze, in thought.
I, on the other hand, was a virtual vat of questions. But I asked none of them. The answers could wait. Not that I didn’t want to know, I did. The informational source I found in Tanner Niles wasn’t going anywhere, or at least very far. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. No more conversations about death, radiation poisoning, bombs, nuclear winter, children lost, a nation destroyed… I just wanted it to stop.
Stop.
At least for the evening as I sat with Burke and Tanner.
Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, to something better, was useless. Each subject, no matter how chipper, had a cloud of doom and remembrance hanging over its topical head. If we talked about cars, we were reminded of the hustle and bustle of a defunct civilization. To recall a fun family vacation, was to remember we would never have that again. Even trying to bring up a silly children’s dinosaur program, was a painful reminder of how many children would never sit religiously around a television set again.
Would we ever again get annoyed at some strange man dressed in costume, dancing and singing ridiculous songs? How I longed for just one more day of watching Simon, chuckling around my living room, tossing his stuffed animal while reciting every word to every tune the dinosaur man played.
Never again. Not in my lifetime.
We ended up talking about cancelled sitcoms of the past. It was the safest subject we could find. It didn’t make a difference if the world had ended or not, those old shows weren’t coming back.
I wanted to embrace Tanner when he departed. Maybe for a thank you, a “Please, come back”, or even be careful, but he merely cupped my hand between both of his and gave a gentle handshake.
Goodnight.
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a good night, it was a frightening night. The aspect of things to come set my mind whirling in confusion, and I tried to think of preparation steps we all needed to take. But planning was difficult. There was no World Wide Web, or library to race to for further information. The truth was, I needed answers to questions I should have asked. The best I could do, to ease my mind, was to jot down some random thought regarding the impending situation.
Sleeping was difficult that night. I did a lot of wondering. Briefly I discussed the situation with Burke, and he suggested we wait to tell the others. Wait until the time was closer and we had more information. There was no need in getting them upset, or worried.
I agreed.
Finally, I slept, not very deeply, nor for very long. I awoke before everyone else and just as Burke was slipping into the room to rest. That told me the sun had risen.
I found the remainder of Tanner coffee and heated it. At the kitchen table, I sat with my ‘I’ll be there’ notebook and wrote my next entry to Mona.
‘Nine Days AB. Dear Mona: Great news! We found your son. He is alive and well. Today we look for Tammy’s son. Hurry to us, we are leaving soon. Jo.’