The Summer the World Ended (31 page)

“Does that mean the world is gone?”

“I hope not, Sweetie… I really hope not.”

Riley curled up on the bed, staring at the far wall. The detonations stopped, but the red glow continued. Dad had, over at least an hour, failed to receive any word from Colonel Bering or anyone else on the radio. All Riley could think about was Amber, Kieran, and Mom. For a brief moment, she felt ashamed of herself for being grateful that no one would be able to live in her old house.

“Riley?”

“Mmm.”

“I need you to do me a favor. I can’t leave the radio yet. Would you go into the crawlspace and check the water? I turned the main on when we walked in, but I wanna be sure.”

“Okay.” She didn’t move.

Dad gave her two minutes. “Soon please.”

She pushed off the cot and sat up. “Where’s the crawlspace?”

He pointed at the white door. “There’s a lever with two settings. Up is takin’ from the well, down draws from the storage tanks underneath us. To the right of the lever is a little red light. If it’s on, set the lever to internal. If it’s off, you can leave it on well.”

She wandered to the door. “What’s the red light for?”

“Radiation check. The well’s covered, so it should be safe from fallout. However, ground seep might contaminate it. Depends on how severe the radiation is. The dirt should filter most of it.”

“Okay.”

The cold concrete floor numbed her toes by the time she reached the white plastic door. It opened with little effort, revealing a long, narrow room with metal shelving on both sides. Countless cans of SpaghettiOs as well as hundreds of brown packages lined the shelves. A square hatch plate on the floor waited at the end of the shelf on the left. She stumbled over to it robotically, squatted, and pulled it up. It had no ladder, but the floor at the bottom was only about four feet down.

Riley ignored the frigid metal on her butt as she sat and slipped through, lowering her toes into loose, damp dirt. She remembered the scorpion, yelped, and pulled herself up. Fortunately, a box on the shelves had a few flashlights which worked, and she peered at her own footprints.

No scorpions in sight.

She dropped down again and crouched. Two massive plastic tanks flanked a control box on the left side. The right had what appeared to be a battery cluster covered in winking lights.
Seems really stupid to put water and batteries so close.
She crawled up between the tanks, noting the switch was up and the red light was off.

Not wanting to linger in the filthy space any longer than necessary, she scurried back to the opening and pulled herself up, sat on the edge with her legs dangling, and swatted dirt from her shins and feet.

“Colonel,” said Dad in the other room. “Good to hear your voice. How bad is it?”

Riley lowered the crawlspace hatch, careful not to let it clank, and crept back to the main room. Dad swiveled around in the radio chair as the door behind her creaked closed. He looked paler than Mom did in the hospital.

She shivered, unable to bring herself to ask.

Dad looked down. “Riley… It’s all gone.”

A hundred images of Mom, Amber smiling, her old home, and Kieran flashed in her mind. She swallowed the saliva in the back of her throat and covered her mouth with both hands, trembling as she crept across the bunker. When she got close, he grasped her hips and looked her straight in the eye.

“We’re still alive, Squirrel.”

All she could do was stare at him. The next detonation overhead caused a faint twitch.

He brushed her hair away from her face. She stood numb, barely noticing his patting and squeezing. His lips moved, but she didn’t hear him. Dad reached up and patted her cheek. Sound seemed to start back up again, as if she’d surfaced from being underwater.

“… eetie, come on.”

“Huh?” She blinked. “The world can’t be over. No one’s stupid enough to―”

Boom.
A low rumble shuddered through the walls.

“I’m sorry, Riley.” A hand on the back of her head pulled her face to his chest. “I’m so very sorry.”

ay Two.

Dreamless sleep faded to still silence. Riley stretched, wondering why her bed felt strange. The coarse wool blanket against her arms shocked her eyes open. She gawked at the plain concrete above her.
Not a dream.
Her lip quivered. Dad snored in the radio chair, headset still on. She covered her mouth and wept for everyone she’d just met in this horrible little town. It was too much to believe that Kieran, his mom, dad, aunt, and all his friends were gone. She thought of little Jesse and that adorable childlike face, and felt sick to her stomach.

Maybe some of them survived, hiding in their basements?

Radiation was a slow killer.

She shifted at a painful presence in her bladder. Dad snored again. She glanced from him to the open toilet and back.
Oh, no way.
Screw it. He’s asleep.
Riley slipped off the cot, cringing as her bare feet froze on contact with the floor. Once the initial shock wore off, she crept over to a standard house toilet. It appeared clean, as though it had never been used. She turned around and sat on it, noticing she could see right over the bed to her father. It took her a moment to get up the nerve to pull her panties down, and she used her oversized shirt to hide as much of herself as she could.

Letting go while in plain sight of her father, even while he was asleep, was another matter entirely.

He snored again.

Stay sleeping. Stay sleeping.

Dad yawned and stretched.

“Don’t turn around!” she screamed.

“Huh?”

“Dad! Please.” She couldn’t bring herself to say why.

He started to look back, but whipped away as soon as he noticed where she was. “Sorry. I never expected to have company if the need arose to use this shelter.”

This is so, so, so much worse than going outside.
She distracted herself with memories of how when Amber’s younger brother was five, he had zero regard for privacy and would walk in and use the bathroom no matter who was in there. It didn’t help. She tried to rush the issue, but had little luck. After an arduous fifteen minutes, she felt better, but sat there for a while more.

“I’m gonna get up now. Don’t turn around.”

“I promise.” He held up a Boy Scout hand gesture.

She waited another minute, staring at his back. Eventually, she reached down and pulled her panties back in place under the shirt and stood.
Oh, God… he’s gonna use the toilet too.
She flushed.

“You decent?”

“Yes.”

Dad went to the storage room and returned with two brown packages. He set one on the table for her and dragged his radio chair over.

“What’s that?” She lowered herself onto the metal seat, teeth chattering.

“MRE. Military ration. Open it. There’s pouches and stuff inside. We eat one of these in the morning and one at night. Of course, that’s a high-energy output schedule. We should probably have one of these in the morning and some canned pasta at night unless we’re doing heavy work. If we’re just lying around all day, we should have only one.”

Riley aimed a forlorn stare at the brown block for a few minutes before opening it, finding it packed with smaller pouches. Writing identified the contents: an entrée (chicken breast), pretzels, peanut butter, a flat packet bearing the scary title ‘beverage base powder orange,’ crackers, plastic utensils, and one marked ‘flameless ration heater.’

She took the entrée pouch, peeled the end open and sucked on it like an infant with a bottle, holding it in both hands. It didn’t even bother her that the substance labeled ‘chicken breast’ had the consistency of paste. Dad glanced at her with sad eyes, and brushed a hand over her head. Riley jostled with the contact, but otherwise didn’t react.

This didn’t happen. This couldn’t have happened. Everyone’s dead? No, I’m dreaming. I spent all night playing a post-apoc video game. That’s why I’m dreaming this. I know I’m dreaming, so I’m supposed to wake up now, right?

After nothing about her situation changed a minute later, reality crushed in on her. Riley chewed on the plastic, squeezing the goop inside up like toothpaste.

Dad shredded through his MRE, stuffed all the garbage back into the original brown pouch, and went back to the radio. Riley continued sucking on the packet for a while after it was empty. Eventually, she let it fall to the wayside and took the crackers. She pulled her legs up, heels on the chair, clutched the saltines to her face, and nibbled tiny bites while staring into space. Kieran’s smiling face lingered in her memory. Over and over, his voice repeated, “No one is crazy enough to hit ‘the button.’”
How had the almost-best day of my life become the second worst?

“Copy, sir. Thank you. Sorry about Lillian.” Dad let out a long sigh.

He spun his chair around. At the sight of her, he covered his mouth and shed two tears. Dad moved to her side, squeezed her shoulder, and ran his hand over her head. She continued gazing at nothing, wanting to react to his touch, but unable to find the ability to move.

When she ran out of cracker, she left her hands together at her chin. Dad scooped her out of the chair and carried her to the cot, sitting with her sideways in his lap. Some time later, she went from squirrel pose to one arm limp in her lap and the other clutching his shirt.

“What did Bering say?” she whispered.

“He’s in Cheyenne, safe in NORAD. His wife didn’t make it. DC is ash. The United States has suffered a full-scale nuclear strike from multiple hostile nations. We fired back, but there’s not a lot of intel right now about how bad things are.”

“If Kieran’s dead, shoot me.”

He shook her, hard. “Riley McCullough. Don’t you dare say anything like that again.” Tears ran down his face. “I won’t lose you too.”

She sniffled.

“As much as it hurt you to lose that boy, ten times that is what it would do to me to lose you. You understand?” He shook her again, softer.

“Yeah. I can’t believe he’s dead too. Mom… Why is God mad at me?”

He kissed her on the cheek. “If he exists, I think he’s mad at humanity in general.”

“Do you think Mr. Hensley survived?” She laid her head on his shoulder.