On the second morning, I had decided that with us having to stay inside for a month that it would be a smart idea to make a tally of the nights since the bombs went off. Partly so that I could make sure the 30 days had passed before daring to venture outside and partly for my own sanity. This room was so small, and I was struggling.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a clever idea to make the tally in my line of vision. It was a tormenting reminder of how long we had to go to get to our target. The 8 crudely etched marks in the cheap veneered door glared back at me. Who’s to say that when we do leave it’s going to be any safer when we get out there? This had crossed my mind more times over the past few days than I would care to admit.
It was usually about this time of day when I would reach over Rosa’s head and grab a bottle of wine from the rack behind us.
“God bless the man who invented the screw top.”
I had started drinking on the 4th day. More to give me something to do. To keep me warm. I was saving the water for Rosa. The excuses came easily. I knew It was wrong to drink when I had to care for Rosa. But, bloody hell. It’s a small room.
“Attention! This is an emergency broadcast!”
I dropped the radio in shock at hearing a voice. I almost jumped out of my skin the white box which I had been thumbing absentmindedly for the best part of a week sprung to life. It was a male voice, a deep one. He sounded older, middle-aged maybe. It didn’t sound to me like a professional news reader. Could it be a civilian with their own station?
“If you are receiving this message please listen carefully.” I clasped it up and brought it in close to my ear.
“If you are hearing this then you have survived what we believe may have been a nationwide and possibly worldwide nuclear attack. Judging by the lack of aid from our allies overseas at this point, it is reasonable to think that they are in a similar state of humanitarian…” The transmission crackled and began to fade. Something was interfering with the signal.
My thumb pushed the dial very slightly back and forward making sure to be careful so that I wouldn’t lose the place where I had found the channel. I held my breath, listening. Consumed by my desperation not to miss anything important. This was what I had been waiting for. Over a week had gone by with nothing, no news at all. I was determined not to miss any of this, even if it wasn’t official. Just as I was losing faith, the radio fizzed, and the voice continued:
“Stay in your shelter. It is important to stay inside for as long as you can - providing you have enough food and clean water. We are broadcasting to you from a safe place, an out of service Bunker in the South-East of England. I will aim to update you as and when we get any new information. We are sadly unaware of any official effort to evacuate or gather survivors at this time. Remember bottled water and tinned food are essential for survival. If possible and only when safe to do so, please try to gather a good supply. It is important to stay away from the cities. They have been worst hit. At this time you must aim to put as much concrete between yourself and the atmosphere as possible.”
Well, at least there I felt I had done something right. My mind flickered to the images of the kids I’d seen outside, playing in the street the day after it had happened. I shook my head. I hoped they would be alright. Something in my gut knew that it was unlikely that they would be.
“Tune into this channel regularly around midday, and we will aim to broadcast as often as we can with information. This is the Bunker broadcasting to any and all survivors of the atomic world war. I wish you the best of luck. Over and out.”
Well, thank goodness someone out there had their shit together and reached out to the nation. But where the hell was the Government? We had a plan for this sort of thing. I knew that. Not to mention a hugely expensive and well equipped nuclear Bunker somewhere in West London.
Surely if it was possible to get a radio signal out then they should have been the first to address the public? I wondered where the Royal Family would have been. Let’s hope safely tucked away in Balmoral. I didn’t like to think too much about why it may have been that they hadn’t yet made themselves known.
No one knew the extent of the bombardment which had shaken London. I shoved the idea away to the back of my head, but it would not stay there. I felt myself falling deeper into a dark pit of despair whenever my mind drifted. What had become of all the people and places I had once known? Matt was constantly in the corner of my mind. Every moment.
With a nervous stomach, I picked up my mobile phone and tried the power switch. I had been trying to preserve the battery life, but this announcement could mean that it would work again. Finally. In the first few days, I had checked every few hours to see if I could get a signal, which naturally had worn my battery down to a pitiful 6%. On top of that, the electricity to the house had been out since the initial blast, with no hopes of charging it up again I needed to be quick.
The familiar logo popped up on screen as I waited for the home screen to load. The second the picture of Lake Garda appeared as my background I hit the call button. I’d taken that picture on the last day of our honeymoon. My eyes began to fill with tears. Continuing on, I scrolled down to call Matt. I had done this countless times in the last eight days. I waited… Nothing.
Clamping my jaw in my fury. It took all of my willpower not to smash the thing against the closest wall. I was about to lose the battle when it beeped.
“YES!!” I glared down to see my voicemail icon flashing at the top of the screen, I stabbed at it with my finger, and the familiar sounds of that monotonous woman started to speak.
“You have… 2 voice messages. Message 1, from an unknown caller: “Lizzy, I’m on my way home, stay where you are. Stay inside with Rosa, just don’t go outside and you should be safe, I love you so much. I will be with you as soon as I can. Please stay safe for me. Tell Rosa I love her.” Message 2 is from Kate “Liz I’m trying to get hold of you, where are you today? Please be at home. Listen to me, if it isn’t safe where you are and you need to get out, just drive to me. I’m staying here. Come here, please. Oh just call me back when you get this. OK?” You have no further messages. I quickly opened my calling app and tried to call Matt again… Still no dial tone. I then tried to call Kate… No dial tone.
“SHIT!” Rosa jumped startled and looked up at me her bottom lip began to quiver, oh crap. Bad parenting, I am a bad parent.
“Sorry baby, Mummy didn’t mean to scare you. Everything is going to be fine.” Pulling her to my side we cuddled until she started smiling again she looked up at me and made the sign with her hand for milk. She was hungry. Even living through a nuclear war couldn’t affect this girl’s appetite. It’s understandable - she’s a tall kid. She gets that from me I imagine. I’m 5ft 10, and she’s got that gene sure enough.
I prepared her formula from the water supply which I had been bringing down to us in a bucket. We had a good supply from the filled tubs in both bathrooms, but no electricity meant that I had to make it cold. Not the easiest task. Then there was the washing of her bottles which had to be done straight away. To conserve water I had taken to using antibacterial cleaning wipes. How she wasn’t getting sick I didn’t know. Something which had just happened over the last week was that I could now give her the bottle and she could feed herself. She prefers it that way, little Miss Independent.