Chapter 1

It was late in the day, about 3:30. An unbelievably bright flash of light in the sky dazzled my eyes, even though I was not looking in that direction. As lights failed, the computers went silent. All power failed. The battery backups failed without a whimper. Along with the instant headache I felt came the realization that we were dead. It was just a matter of time. Nuke.

I ran down the stairs as fast as I could. The overpressure and reverse waves would destroy this old building. There was nothing I could do about it. I shouldered my way thru the door beneath the HVAC plant, kicked it closed behind me and huddled next to the wall. Within minutes the temperature raised to over 400 degrees outside as the wind flashed over. Moments later it reversed. From the direction of the windstorm the center must have been South East of me, and fairly close by the power of the storm. Ahh-I knew. Somebody dropped a pony nuke on Fermilab—a big government physics research center. It was only five miles away or so. All two-or-more story structures were doomed. Any bomb bigger than that and I would not be there to know it. The concussion waves knocked me out.

When I woke I climbed out of my sanctuary. The door was scorched black and smoking. The building had come down around my ears. The concrete bunker supporting the HVAC system survived, and me with it.

Four blocks away was an Ace hardware. I knew they had a basement and they sold full five gallon water jugs. Nearby were food stores. I made my way to it as quickly as I could.

The silence was eerie. All I heard was the crackling of fires. The smell of smoke was everywhere. I bypassed the non-working automatic door and stepped thru the blown out window.

A woman lay dying near the register, her face peeling away from the savage light, her chest pierced by daggers of glass from the plate glass window. Her eye sockets were empty holes. I held her and rocked her in my arms until she stopped breathing. I found the basement entrance, and then dragged each 5 gallon water jug I could find to the shelter. I made myself a nest of material to rest in, then went out to find all the food I could scavenge using a grocery cart. I heard screams and whimpers as others suffered from their injuries. I lay beside the road to puke several times. I assumed that the radiation had destroyed any long term hopes I might have had. I tasted blood all the time. It didn't hurt to piss but I voided blood all the time. I knew that if the headaches got worse it probably meant I would die of kidney failure at the very least. There was a mini-mart around the corner. I raided it for canned goods, bread, whatever. I wasn't picky. I returned to the hardware store and dragged the cart down the stairs. I nested beneath the hardware store to sleep. I drank copious amounts of water whenever I awoke.

I was totally amazed that I awoke at all. Somehow I beat the radiation. I must assume that as I slept thru the worst of the effects of the radiation my kidneys pumped enough to compensate and survive. I was shaky and weak. I ate canned beans and stale bread followed by tepid water. It tasted like a veritable feast. It stayed down. I searched out others for several days and found no others.

Where could I go? What could I do? I refused to live in the Stone Age for however long I had left. All the cars were dead--their electronics fused to uselessness. The radios and televisions were the same. All cars and trucks made after about 1981 were useless to me, and earlier ones needed new condensers and voltage regulators. It was back to points and plugs for ignition. I needed to find an antique car, and quick. Its owner probably would keep his own supplies as they were out of production. A regulator was a regulator and I could grab one from any parts store. The theory was that the wiring of the car acted as an antenna and blew the components from EMP, while parts in a box were relatively immune. I found a phone book at the service desk and looked up antique car dealerships. Some were useless, selling only fancy toys such as "The Corvette Store". I needed something that could drive over concrete blocks and not hang up. I then recalled seeing a real oddity--a Ford truck in WW II German grey. It was at a show I'd seen that summer. It was from a Ford plant in Germany that got nationalized and the Germans kept it in production as they could throughout the war. It ran on gasoline, not diesel, and was set up nicely. Now to find it. I needed a car to find a truck. "Sounds like a bootstrap, to me." Now I'm talking to myself.

I found a 66 Chevy pickup for sale at an indoor storage site just north of town. It was advertised on the bulletin board of a high-end grocery store. We forget how long a mile is if we don't walk one now and again. I passed my home on the way, just to check it out. I lived in a ground-floor Apartment in a two-story complex. The side I lived on was sheltered from the blast. I was tired after a three mile walk and broke in to eat and sleep.

I used to car camp as a hobby, and like any packrat I never got rid of my toys. I fired up a gas stove and cooked dinner. The water was always bad in the place, so I had a few jugs of water stashed. This along with a sprayer of 409 got me a quick bath. I then changed clothes and put on boots. It was almost November so I dressed appropriately. I took a hammer and large screwdriver in case I had to break in.

I made my way up the street to the old beer distributorship that now held the indoor storage. I broke in thru the main office, raided the key box, strolled into the storage bay area and immediately stopped. It was dark as a pit in there. I saw the light defining where the garage door met the floor. I opened the human-sized door next to it for working light. There, twelve feet up, was the emergency pin I had to pull. All right, dammit, find a ladder. Careful. No need to die falling off a ladder after everyone else croaks by nuke.

I made it. The work bench had pliers and a ladder. My boots held well on the ladder rungs, as did the gripper pads on the ladder hold on the concrete floor. Once the door was free I propped it up with the ladder. Now THAT was work. I could have used two more people.

There it was. A gleaming fire-engine-red fully-restored 1966 Chevy 1/2 ton pickup. The service kit in the back had four pristine condensers new in the box. I replaced it, pumped the gas twice and turned the key. Ahh, the sweet sound of success. Now to get out of here before I emulated the last scene from On The Beach, where they gassed themselves in the garage with a race car.

I needed a regulator, fast, before the battery drained. And a manual fuel pump to steal gas from gas stations. I found an auto supply shop that filled my bill to a "Tee". Now that the vehicle was survivable I had better prospects. There was a blade sticking out of the rear bumper that used to have a hitch ball on it. I could tow a small trailer with this thing.

First, home. I wanted my camping kitchen and gear. November was coming fast and that meant cold rain. I used to enjoy tent camping in the winter for recreation. I was an idiot. I wanted comfort, hot water and a secure food supply. I also figured for the worst. If the winds brought radioactive dust I'd never know it. Did I want to know? No. There would be no way to prevent contamination once the area was dusted. If I drank bottled water and ate canned food I was pretty well off. I should shower once per day as well, and change clothes. I should cut my hair short, too. I needed clippers and a way to power them. This was getting complicated. Hmm. Eight amp clippers times 110 volts gives 880 watts. I could use an inverter off the truck. Good deal.

One haircut later I did a little shopping though the remains of a hunting/fishing store. Wait a minute. If the roof was down due to the firestorm then the winds probably carried the first burst of fallout with them. Forget it. No sense in putting on a glow-in-the-dark death sentence. The prevailing wind was from the North and West. I would travel into the wind.

I drove twenty miles west. The corn fields were pushed over and lightly burned. The barns were gone, as were the farmhouses. My bunker did me better than I thought. I found what I was looking for--a Farm and Fleet (That's Blaine's Fleet and Farm to you western folks). I latched on to a wheelbarrow, five huge deep cycle 12-volt batteries, a set of jumper cables and all the XL coveralls I could find. I couldn't resist a big oxygen-acetylene torch setup for the bed of the pickup.

Next stop, a drug store. Potassium Iodide, an old expectorant, was used in case of radiological exposure to stop the uptake of radioactive calcium, a known post-nuclear Contaminant. I also wanted to raid the pharmacy for autoimmune boosters and pain killers.