The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (20 page)

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Authors: Barbara C. Griffin Billig,Bett Pohnka

BOOK: The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival)
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Harry grabbed his wife

s hand.

Come on, Sugar. We

d best get back to Rickey. He may be needing us.

Paula watched until they became lost in the crowd. That Harry was this dense, this oblivious to the dangers, was inconceivable, but that Flo, a grown woman, would so willingly follow him in such a maniacal adventure was even more incredible, she thought, forgetting her own obstinacy. She

d never let Frank do such a stupid thing, and she certainly wouldn

t follow him if he did.


Well, are you coming?

asked Frank, looking up at her through the window.

Now that you

ve taken it on yourself to decide our futures, hadn

t we better get started?

Frank

s sarcasm wasn

t lost on her.
 

The street was empty, totally devoid of life. Not a person was in sight; no child pedaled along on a bicycle; no cars were in motion—it was as though some giant movie set had been placed in suburban San Mirado, but without actors to give the scene life. Harry felt his skin crawl as he looked around in the eerie stillness. Yesterday this row of homes had been bursting with activity. Today there was no one.

Flo moved over until her shoulder touched him.

It

s weird, Harry,

she said in a near whisper.

I never imagined what a town would be like with all the people gone.

Harry shook a shiver off and glanced skyward. The sun was descending. In another hour everything would be camouflaged by the darkness of night. At another time and in another place this quietude might be welcomed, but not now. They needed people, the security of a familiar face, or any face. Had it been a mistake to bring his family back to this place? Harry rubbed his hands together. The palms were calloused and tough from years of pouring cement, years of making a living for Flo and Rickey. Of course it wasn

t wrong to return here. This was their home. This was where they belonged. Yet it was all so strange, this bleakness, this absence of life.

He felt a tingling sensation on his forearm and scratched it. Was this due to radiation? No, it couldn

t be. He glanced defiantly at the darkening sky. It

s not what everyone said. It couldn

t be. They were ninnies to be frightened so easily into running. The radiation, if there really was radiation up there, couldn

t be as bad as they said, and certainly not if everyone would simply get inside their homes and stay there.

Get the door open, I

m bringing Rickey in.

As Flo stepped cautiously toward the house, Harry reached into the car for his son. The boy lay inert across the seat. Powerless to move of his own accord, his eyes, dulled by a ravaging fever, watched his father

s motions.


We

re home, Rick,

said Harry as he scooped the boy into his arms. The lad was too thin for his age. At thirteen he needed more muscle on him. After this, Harry decided, we

ll start going to the Y in the evenings to work out. Muscle is all the boy lacked. He

s got good bones, and he

s strong. A fever won

t get him down.


Harrrry!

Flo

s scream slashed through the stillness like a knife.

Unwilling to drop his son, Harry hugged the boy closer and broke into a lumbering trot to the house. At first he

d thought there was an intruder inside. Instead, only Flo was there, standing in the center of the room.


Flo! What...?

He stopped. The living room had been stripped bare of furnishings. The tables, sofa, chairs, even the wall-to-wall carpet had been ripped free and removed.

God-dammit!

he muttered.


The buzzards...the filthy buzzards!

Flo murmured as she walked slowly into the bedroom. She found nothing but four walls and a floor.

Oh Harry, how could they?

Harry placed his son gently on the floor. Then he carefully removed the one article that had not been taken by the looters. With care and concern for the fabric, he removed the drapery from its hooks and, folding it once, placed it over Rickey.

From the kitchen came the soft cry of Flo.

It

s gone....everything...!

Reaching her side, Harry saw the cabinets standing open. The shelves were bare; every can, box, and article of food had been taken. There would be nothing for them to eat. Flo

s sobs tore at the man. He placed his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

Shhhh... .it

ll be okay, Sugar,

he crooned.

It

ll be okay, you

ll see.

Gradually her sobs weakened, then disappeared.


Now what?

she mumbled, her face buried in his shirt.

Oh God, now what?

He ran his hand soothingly over her back, patting her gently.

We

ll be all right, Flo. This won

t last long....someone will be coming in to help us.

Flo drew back and snuffled.

Harry, we

ll die if we stay here.


No, no. We won

t, Flo. We

ll be safe.

His mind wandered to the boy in the other room. If the kid hadn

t gone toward that reactor; if, for once, he

d done what he was told and come straight home....but no. This was his fault, the father

s. He

d given the boy too much freedom, too long a rein. He

d encouraged the son to explore and to question, and yes, even question authority. He felt her head against his chest again.


Rickey needs a doctor, Harry.

Harry nodded.

Yes. Tomorrow I

ll try to find someplace....a hospital where we can get help for him.

 


Frank?

Paula

s voice broke the quiet.


Huh?


Are you asleep?

Paula asked.

He grunted an unintelligible,

Uh.

Paula lay on her side in a fetal position with her legs drawn up, her back to her husband. It was comforting to be here under the roof of her parents once more. It could be a pleasant, serene existence, being watched over by her father, having the breakfast made, and her mother smilingly calling them to the table—it could be nice. Like the old days. Like the month she and Frank had spent here early in their marriage, before he had dragged her off to the south. If only he

d wanted to stay here, to become a real part of the family. She snuggled down under the warm blanket. No matter how old she got, there

d never be a place as safe and secure as right here at home. She thought of Frank beside her. He hated being here. For a moment she regretted speaking to him. Now she was obliged to talk.

You don

t like Dad, do you, Frank?


Your folks are nice people, Paula.


Nice? Is that the best you can do? Say that they

re nice people? Christ—the world is full of nice people.


Let

s not quarrel, okay? I said they

re nice. What more do you want? Me to lick his feet?

His voice was alert, not drowsy at all.


Don

t get snotty, Frank. It

s just that I don

t think you show my father the proper respect,

she said peevishly.

Frank flopped over on his side, away from his wife.

Oh, shit! At a time like this you

re stewing because I don

t respect your old man.


That

s because you

ve pouted around the house all day, acting like he doesn

t even exist. You should sit down and talk with him. Ask him about his business or something. Jesus, make some kind of effort,

she said.

Do something.


Why in the hell should I? I didn

t ask him to take us in.


You

re here, though.

She sat up in bed, prepared to pursue the subject further.

I know what

s wrong with you, Frank. You feel like you

re a failure when you

re around him.


No, I don

t, dammit! What the hell has he done? A piddling company. Bull! That doesn

t mean his ass is lined with gold.


You

re jealous,

she accused him.


To hell I am!

he said, suddenly angered.


You

re still smarting because of that crack he made about you years ago.

Her recollection of the event was vivid. It

d happened at their wedding reception right downstairs. An old friend, too high on liquor, had boomed out at her father, asking him how he liked his new son-in-law. And her father, without any excuse, had retorted loudly enough for everyone within earshot to hear.

Frank

s all right, but he

s got no balls.

Not only had she overheard, but Frank had heard as well. His skin had blanched and he

d walked hurriedly away. No, she had never mentioned it to him, nor he to her. But he remembered.

Frank kicked the covers down to his feet.

He never thought that anyone was good enough for his precious child, including me. Jesus, Paula, the only reason we had Jerry in such a hurry was to get the furniture your folks promised us in exchange for a grandchild. I mean, what kind of screwballs were we that we

d have a kid just to please your parents?

Paula was not a simpering, pouting woman. She said acidly,

Are you sure that

s why we had Jerry, and not because you were trying to prove something to yourself?


What does that mean?

he asked sourly.


Nothing. Forget it.

Why must they always spoil everything by quarreling. A long silence followed their outburst. It was worrisome, these strange irrelevancies, these dissensions that had begun to creep between them. In this crisis they should at least be able to put a halt to the petty quarrels. At last Paula said,

I read in the Press tonight that the government won

t be sending anybody in until the radiation is swept away.


Good strong winds will have to blow the poison out of the area before anyone will go in—troops, medical teams, or anybody else,

Frank replied calmly, welcoming a rest from their quarreling.

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