Dust (3 page)

The glance I gave said more than any words.

“Just asking.”

“Hold the light steady.” I grabbed the battery from the baggie.

“Will it work?” Davy asked.

“I hope.”

“We never tested it.”

“I know.”

“We should have tested it,” Davy said.

I looked up at him. He had to be kidding. “How were we supposed to test it, Davy? It measures radiation.”

Davy shrugged. “I don’t know. An X-Ray place or something. Because you know, what if it doesn’t work and it tells us the wrong thing.”

I closed the lid to the Geiger counter. “You know what? Forget it. We’ll do it later.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t need to measure right now.”

“How come? Don’t we want to know what the levels are?”

“They’re high.” I stood up.

“But what if ... ”

“Davy.” I barked. “It doesn’t make a difference what the levels are, we aren’t fuckin’ going out there anyhow.”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“I’m not ... ” I took a second to calm down. “I’m not yelling. I’m ... “ I inched across the shelter. “Just getting a beef jerky for Simon.”

Even though he looked busy coloring, Simon was eavesdropping. He called out a, ‘Thank you.’

The flap to the box was open, and I reached in, pulling out a sandwich bag filled with small strips of beef jerky. I took one out, sealed the bag again and moved to Simon. “Here you go.”

Simon scooted to his knees. “Thank you, Aunt Jo.”

“You’re welcome, honey. But no more for a while.” I laid my hand on his head, fully intending to walk back over to that Geiger counter.

“We have to save some for Matty, huh, Aunt Jo?”

I froze. I literally froze while my insides felt like they dropped to the floor. A lump formed in my throat with a squeaked out a ‘yes’, then I just sat down, bringing my knees to my chest to hug in comfort.

After a moment, Davy made his way over, exhaled heavily and sat next to me.

Leaning just a tad, I placed my head against his arm. “Oh, Davy.”

“I’ve been ... I haven’t wanted to ask.”

Nodding, I looked up and was startled, Simon was right there extending his beef jerky to me as if that were the reason for my being down. “No, thank you, Simon. You eat it.”

Then as he had done for the previous four hours, Simon imitated Davy. He let out a Simon size exhale and sat on my other side. I couldn’t help it, emotional or not, I smiled. I took a second to gather my thoughts. “OK. Here’s what I think.” I glanced at Davy, then at Simon. “We’re fine, right? The house is fine, at least partially. The school is four blocks away. It has to be at least in the same shape. Plus, they would have known about the attack before we did. We were watching a movie.”

Davy caught my thought process. “They would have moved the kids.”

“Exactly.”

“Will they keep them there? They won’t just send them out, will they?”

“God, I hope not.” I swallowed and thought again. “No. No,” I said with certainty. “No, they wouldn’t. I may have hated Mr. Shep as a principal, but he’s not a dumb man. He ran that grade school like a boot camp. And we know why.”

Davy nodded. “He was in the Army.”

“Exactly. He has to know. Those kids will go nowhere until he figures out what to do. And if God forbid, something has happened to him, well ... Mrs. Donnor is there and she’s smart too. I’m confident.”

“Are you confident that Matty is all right?”

Before I answered, I asked for assurance from my heart. “Yes. Yes she is.”

“So what do we do? I can go get her. Let me go get her.”

“No, Davy I will. But, hating to do so, I’m gonna wait just a couple days. Just a couple. If I go out now, or even tomorrow, I may be out too long and end up sick. I won’t be any good if I’m sick. And I need you well too.”

“Plus, Matty knows, Mom. She knows to wait. We both did. You taught us.”

I reached out and put my hand on Davy’s head as my thank you, then I reached for Simon. “We’ll get her home.”

“What about Sam?” Davy asked. “You think ... ”

“Sam’s fine.” I chuckled and tried to make light. “Come on Davy. You think I’m getting off that easy. Nah, your stepfather is gonna be back too.”

Like before, like Davy, Simon had questioned. “What about Daddy?”

My brother. A barrage of guilt hit me at that very second because I hadn’t even thought of any of my other family members. “Simon.” His name was all I could speak. How is it possible to explain to a three-year-old that I didn’t know where his father was or even if he would return? Just when I was about to evade the question, Simon asked another.

“What about Mommy?” he asked. “Is she coming for me?”

“Simon ... ”

“I’m going home now, right?” he waited impatiently for an answer. “Huh, Aunt Jo?”

How to tell him? What to tell him? Davy had explained as best as he could to Simon why we were in the basement, but I don’t think Simon understood. So how was he to understand me telling him the uncertainty about his parents? I couldn’t tell him, ‘no’, and I couldn’t’ tell him ‘yes’. His big brown eyes peered up to me waiting to absorb the answer I would give him. Sorting through my loss at what to say, I chose honesty. “I don’t know, Simon. I just ... don’t know.”

I pulled Simon close, and kissed him on the head. It may not have been an answer that would satisfy Simon and stop his questioning, but it was the best I could do. It was my ‘stock’ inner reply to everything. If asked about what happened, what became of my family, what we would do next, would everything be all right. I would answer the same. I just didn’t know.

3. Keeping Wits
 

Bright and warm were two words that could not be used to describe the shelter. It was anything but bright, and being warm was just a wish. Other than Davy’s clock, there was no way to differentiate day from night. The battery light died out after only nine hours, and because I designated one light per day, we resorted to candles. But there weren’t many of those either, and after Simon and Davy fell asleep, I spent my time in a darkness my eyes failed to adjust to.

I was grateful that the latch on the cold cellar door was placed so high; because a fear brewed in me that Simon would wander out. Maybe that played a factor in my not sleeping the first night. I juggled between fighting tiredness and catching my head when it bobbed for a ‘quick fix’ nap.

The next day would bring minor changes that would help some. I knew radiation would drop enough for us to venture into the basement for a span of time. Whether it be to walk, cook, use the bathroom, or just clean ourselves up. And we all needed to clean up. I promised the boys we would do so after one day. What I called the greatest invention of our time was a sanitizer that evaporated the more you rubbed it in. We must have used an entire bottle before we hit the twenty-four hour mark. Not that it mattered much. For some reason, the sanitizer was one of those items in which I purchased an obscene amount. Perhaps it was the niftiness of it, or the price, who knows. But we had plenty. So much so, our hands could be germ free for years to come.

How ridiculous. What in the world was I thinking when I shopped?

I guess I lost count. I lost count of everything I purchased. Doing an inventory was something I had every intention of getting to. Somehow, that never happened.

A few notebooks, and other items I deemed for ‘activities’ were in a box. Davy took a notebook then took it upon himself to do that inventory; suggesting rationing would be easier if we knew what we had. I agreed. After all that was the original concept. With a magic marker Davy put ‘Supplies’ on the cover of the green notebook. Nice and neat inside, he made spaces for each day to keep track of what was used. Columns were placed so he could list each item and the amount.

He was doing well, too. Medical supplies, other things were counted first then he headed on to the task of the food. Momentum was with Davy until he hit the split pea soup and saw I had 153 individual servings. He opted for finishing at a later time, explaining that 153 servings of split pea soup was just too ridiculous to rationalize and left him unable to comprehend enough to count.

Everything was ridiculous because it was new. Plain and simple. Like taking a group vacation. How awkward and irritating the first day or two was until everyone adjusted to being together. Then it became fun. Not that I expected the shelter to ever be fun, but I did expect it to get tolerable.

However we were still toggling with ridiculous.

It was time to pull out the radio and get it hooked up. One of the things I urged my close friends to get—aside from the super sale Geiger counter—was a radio. Other than myself, only two followed my suggestion. Craig and Burke. I figured after I powered up and listened for a signal, it would tell me if one of them were out there, powered-up and alive. If I heard nothing I would just surf the empty airwaves hoping to find a ripple of life out there.

But the radio had to work, and in order to do that, it had to be powered by a battery. That was a problem, because Davy was in charge of putting the car battery in storage and he just couldn’t remember where he put it.

Under the stairs? Behind the washer? Our basement was big, but not that big. Davy searched. And then he remembered.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I told him while standing back in the cold cellar, watching Davy uncover the earth on the opposite side of our shelter.

“You said to bury the batteries,” he defended.

“It’s a car battery, Davy. Not a triple ‘A’. Big difference.”

“It’s still a battery.”

I believe I growled in frustration at that moment.

“What?” he asked innocently. “I’m almost there.”

“Davy, you went way too fuckin overboard.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one who made 153 packs of split pea soup.”

“It was easy to dehydrate, Davy.”

“But it’s split pea soup.”

“Well ... yeah. So ... ” I shrugged. “Deal with it. And if you say one more thing about it, that’s all you’ll eat.” Folding my arms, instead of aggravating myself anymore, I walked into the basement. There were other things to do, things to finish.

We had started building a wall. The first of at least four from what we figured. Maybe even more. Using anything we could find in the basement. Whether the wall is solid or just a curtain material, our intention was to divide the open basement into rooms or sections. Truth was, yes, we could go topside, or even into the house, but for a long while, longer than two weeks, we had to worry about accumulative radiation. For safety sake, any prolonged periods should be spent underground. So privacy was essential or would be as time moved on.

The big joke prior to the bombs was that everyone would show up at my house following an attack. I was the one with the supplies, and the obnoxious amount of rations. More than likely, their joking was the reason I stockpiled so much. Having enough just in case. I expected and still do expect some to show up, only because—despite all I tried to teach them—some were pretty clueless. Either that or they chose to just rely on me. What I didn’t expect was for it to be just me, Davy and Simon.

Simon was doing better than I anticipated. I believed his subconscious understanding of all that was going on supported him. He asked what he could do to help, and I gave little jobs like separating the brown food from the green food. Big bandages from little bandages. He was content with helping in any way that he could. How long, remained to be seen. For all of us it was a matter of playing the ‘wait and restless’ game, and if we were keeping score, in my opinion, Simon was winning by a long shot.