The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (11 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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That was a fact Frank had not considered and it stopped him momentarily.

All right,

he answered shortly,

we

ll go by the bank and draw out what we

ve got in there. But get in gear, for Christ

s sake, Paula. We

re wasting precious time!


What

ll we take?

his wife asked.


I don

t know, for crying out loud. Just grab some stuff. Some clothes. But hurry!

Frank left them to their own as he rapidly selected a couple items he wished to take along. The M-1 carbine was illegal to have, but law or not, the wartime souvenir was picked up. Filling his pockets with the long, pointed bullets he re-entered the kitchen to help his wife.

And there she was. The ancient tea set that her grandmother had given her was sitting beside the door. A black Persian Paw stole, in its bug-proofed bag, was parked next to the silver pieces.


Frank, I need you to carry this to the car,

Paula said.

Be careful and don

t drop it, it

s an antique.

With that she extended the old, hand-carved clock that had sat in the center of the mantle.

Frank glared at her.

You

re unreal, Paula. I

m worried about saving our lives and you

re dragging out every broken down piece of junk in this house. We

re not taking any of it!

She scowled at him and clutched the clock close to her.

Snatching up the tea service in exasperation he stalked outside and threw it into the trunk.

Let

s go!

he shouted.

They tumbled into the car, Paula delaying until she was positive the door was securely locked.

Frank was a masterful driver. He whipped the vehicle into the street and had crossed the two blocks to stop in front of the bank before his family had settled down and fastened their seat belts.

He dashed from the car to the yellow stucco building of the only local bank in San Mirado, a small business with no branches.  Because it was local it was popular.  But in a flash he was back.

God! Wouldn

t you know it! They

ve closed up the damned place!  There's no people there and no electricity so the ATM doesn't work.

He threw his body into the seat.


Daddy, can

t you write checks in Arizona?

Kim asked.

He threw a disgusted look at Paula.

And who would be in this bank to honor the checks, huh?

 

             
             
             
             

             
             
             
             
Chapter Five

 

After the students had been dismissed, Althea Carr began her own preparations to leave. The school administration had released the students prematurely—she thought in fact the manner in which the school day abruptly ended had reflected disorganization on the part of the staff. The children should have been kept in the classrooms until it was deemed safe to let them go, or until their parents were notified to pick them up. But then, she was simply a teacher, not an administrator, nor a maker of decisions regarding emergency policy. She was frankly amazed at the lack of established procedure. The school had numerous instructions on what to do in case of fire or earthquake—just as there were instructions regarding a high ozone count in the smog—but nothing existed  within the school which outlined the procedure for this sort of crisis.

Although she had cautioned her pupils to run straight home and not tarry along the way, she wondered how many of them got the message and did her bidding, or were even so instructed by other teachers. At this moment the children could be loafing in the open air, observing the huge, dusky cloud which was still forming overhead.

Althea Carr was in her thirty-fifth year and had already learned a lot about life; enough at least to put priorities in proper perspective. She was one of a minority, in her native California, and had been born and raised in Los Angeles. Her parents lived there still, and that was her destination—big, sprawling L.A.

A meticulous woman, Althea smoothed her hair back, fastening a loose strand in her chignon. Her brows were plucked in arches, and the pale lipstick—her only make-up—blended with the tailored dress to define an image of a serious woman. Without looking she knew she was in order....now. After that first message of the disaster, she

d almost lost control, momentarily at least, but now she had her nerves calmed and her emotions restrained.

With a last glance around the room, she picked up the batch of homework papers and placed them neatly in a manila folder. She had them tucked securely in the crook of her arm and was reaching for her handbag when she realized what she

d done. She dropped the folder on her desk. There was no need to grade those papers.

There were two cars left on the lot as she hastened to her coupe. Fastening the doors tightly and locking them, a habit she

d developed years ago because of driving alone, she guided the vehicle under the freeway and then onto it, traveling north.

Under optimum conditions the trip from San Mirado to her parents

home 70 miles away in Los Angeles was a good hour

s drive. But these weren

t optimum conditions today. The near absence of  traffic coming from the Whitewater direction told her that the horrors of the disaster lay visible on the route and all traffic was detouring that area. A few cars still cruised northward in the direction of White Water and Los Angeles. Was it possible that these people had not yet heard the word? A shudder raced down her body at the thought of what would be found should she travel past the site. Should she do that....go by to see what had happened? But the impulse to satisfy a morbid curiosity was extremely weak, and she turned the car onto an off-ramp and headed due east for several miles, leaving the coast behind.
 

When next Althea entered the freeway system, her lanes of the freeway were empty. The lanes with traffic moving in the opposite direction were packed. People were pouring out of Los Angeles panicked, unaware they were also headed toward White Water. She mashed the gas pedal to the floor and grasped the steering wheel tightly, as if to steel herself to enter the city that everyone else was deserting.

In the lanes approaching Althea, cars were moving at a slow creep, almost pushing each other. The heat from the blacktop, the honking of the horns, was unnerving to these other drivers. All it would take would be one irrational person to convert a traffic jam into a free-for-all.

Like a mad bull one man began ramming his truck into the center divider, finally smashing a gap in it. Then he raced his truck through. There was a virtually empty stretch of freeway before him and he quickly accelerated. Other cars streamed in behind him. Instead of three lanes for traffic exiting Los Angeles there were now six....and Althea faced them.

Turning her attention to the highway in front of her, Althea gasped. What she saw was madness! Had she driven onto the wrong side of the highway? She slowed and looked wildly around. Approaching vehicles had at first appeared to be on the opposite side of the divider—now suddenly her lane was blocked by on-coming cars....cars speeding directly toward her!

Althea felt a weakness in her knees and wondered if she

d be able to use her legs. Every nerve was jumping as she braked with her left foot and began pulling as near to the edge of the road as she could get. The cars bore down on her, horns blaring.

They flew past her and cut in behind her, the nearest driver shaking his fist as he careened past. The embankment on her right was steep—a slope that dropped some twenty-five feet to a residential street below. Althea peered out at the edge. The right wheels of her coupe were barely hanging onto the brittle shoulder.

A jar brought her attention away from the shoulder. In front, a young man and his family were stacked in a land rover that was nose to nose with her coupe. She saw his motioning arm and heard his curses to move, but there was nowhere for her to go.

In his anger, the driver cut his rover sharply and pushed into her left fender. She heard the crunching of metal but its significance was lost on her as she felt herself begin to slide. The car teetered for a moment on the edge, than as the right wheels slid off, the machine began to roll. Over once, over twice, tumbling its contents around, it reached the street below in a battered state. Rocking back and forth on its wheels, it came to rest. Miraculously it had ended in an upright position in the flat dirt area below the freeway.

Althea was dazed. The flips had jostled her equilibrium. She loosened the restraining seat belts and laid her head back for a moment, breathing deeply several times. Her limbs trembled spastically, and a powerful urge to urinate came over her. With sheer will, she forced the sphincter valve in her bladder to close, and she continued with the deep breaths until most of the twitching had left her muscles. Finally she was sufficiently calm to pull herself upright.

There were numerous people rushing by but none had the slightest interest in her or her predicament. Then she almost laughed as she realized the motor of the little coupe was still purring despite its tumble down the embankment. Althea felt an almost human relationship with the car at that moment. At least it hadn

t disappointed her.

The car went into gear with a strange crunching sound but moved forward regardless. Althea peered out of the cracked windshield at the neighborhood around her. This small satellite city of Los Angeles, with its poorer older houses, was familiar territory. By winding through its residential streets she would be able to get  home.
 

Before long Althea drew to a halt before the aging frame house of her parents. The trip had taken over three tense hours. She exhaled loudly as she let herself relax for a moment. She

d made it....at last. But it wasn

t over yet. She knew that.

Her mother was waiting on the porch. Tiny, steel-gray ringlets formed a halo around the ebony face of the older woman. She broke into a worried frown as Althea climbed out of the car and started toward her.

Did you come by that place?

she asked.


No, Mama, I took the long way around,

replied Althea as she walked into the house.


Your car, Thea....what happened to it?

asked the mother as she noticed the collapsed top and battered sides of the vehicle.

Althea, inside, sank into the sofa.

Some white bastard shoved me off the road.


Althea! Are you all right?


Yes, Mama. I

m okay.

Once this morning, for a split second, she

d thought she wouldn

t make it. She

d been afraid that she

d never see either parent again. Her father interrupted her thoughts. Coming up behind her he laid his hand on her shoulder.
     

Your mama and I decided we

d better stay put until you got here, Thea. We figured you

d know what to do.

       She reached up and patted his gnarled fingers.
       Jess Carr walked around to sit on the stool at his daughter

s feet. He was proud of his daughter—his only child. He

d worked extra night shifts to see that his girl got an education so she could lift herself above the level of other black people. He

d wanted a better station for Althea than he and Lou Ella had, and he

d helped her get it. She, in turn, had never given them reason to be unhappy with her.
     

When we heard about it we couldn

t believe it for awhile.....It seems like we

re an awful long way away from that thing, Althea. Look, our lights are still on and everything. But that man on the radio just kept going over it and over it. If he

s telling the truth, it

s pretty scary.

The old man blinked his eyes slowly.
     

I know, Dad. Sometimes I wonder if any of us know enough about this accident to be properly frightened,

replied Althea.

I wish I could believe we were safe up here.

Then peering at her father closely, she asked,

Are you feeling all right, Papa?

     

Me? Oh, I

m doing good, Thea.

      Three years it had been since the heart attack. Three years since he

d been forced to quit work and take life easy. Being without an income and with only the meager pension had hit him hard. He hadn

t wanted to be dependent on anyone, not even his child. But he

d had no choice in the matter.

Do you reckon it

s as bad as they say on TV?

      Althea rubbed her forehead trying to ease the pain of a headache that was just beginning.

I don

t know....I suppose we must believe that it's that bad. What else can we think, anyway? At least you have power up here.

      Jess watched as her slender dark fingers massaged her temples. His heart ached with pride every time he looked at the thin face, the aquiline nose, and the large black eyes. He was continually amazed that he and Lou Ella had been able to produce such a beautiful child. No coarse features or thick lips on his girl, but very definitely his child, nevertheless.

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