The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (52 page)

“
I... Will any of your family....Will your Aunt Bertha be here?
”
It seemed important that someone be waiting for her. There must be someone who would welcome her out of the anesthesia, welcome her return to the world.

“
I haven
’
t bothered telling my aunt and uncle. There is nothing they could do. Not now.
”
She recalled the last time she had spoken with her aunt, that day, in her parents
’
living room, while her mother and father listened.

Finally he turned to face her.
“
I
’
ll be here. I
’
ll be right here in this room after the surgery.
”
Reassuringly he stepped over to the bedside, and touched her gently on the shoulder.

She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the side of her face, grateful for his concern.

“
Later we can discuss what must be done after you leave here.
”
He pulled the chair up and sat down. A single light shone from the head board, casting a dim circle on the floor. He stretched his legs out until they were illuminated, leaving the rest of his torso in semi-darkness.

“
There was one chore that I
’
d hoped to complete before— before this,
”
she said.
“
My parents
’
house. I asked to be driven by there on the way to Beckman—it
’
s in such disrepair.
”

“
You surely don
’
t intend to go there, Althea.
”

“
No. But it needs to be boarded against intruders. The old neighborhood was in shambles, and it
’
s just a matter of time until everything inside the house is stolen.
”

Cecil hadn
’
t the courage to tell her that looting happened long ago, and there was probably nothing left in the old place.
“
Someday property in that area will be worth something again. If you can hang onto it, you might eventually sell it for what it
’
s worth,
”
he said.

“
Oh, I
’
m not even worried about whether or not to sell it. But I shudder to think that my parents
’
personal things will all be gone before I can get to them. Cecil, have many of the people stayed? What
’
s it like in the city now?
”

“
Many stayed, mainly because they
’
d lose everything—efforts of a lifetime—if they left.
”

For awhile, her financial position had been overwhelmingly depressive.
“
The government
’
s insurance doesn
’
t pay for the losses, not a fraction of the losses. I used to worry myself sick about it, until I decided that if the insurance doesn
’
t cover it, it just doesn
’
t,
”
she replied sadly.

“
No. It couldn
’
t possibly. Lots of folks just dropped everything and left, though, just cut themselves loose from houses, possessions, like they didn
’
t care. I couldn
’
t believe it, driving in this morning. Acres and acres of farm land, all full of weeds, shells of commercial and industrial buildings where thriving businesses once operated. It
’
s ghostly, Althea. Yes, like an immature ghost town of the west.
”

“
It
’
ll snap back, won
’
t it, Cecil? Los Angeles can
’
t die. It has to revive!
”

“
Oh yeah, I suppose. But it
’
ll take a while.
”

“
Senator McCauley has announced that the formal investigation will begin next week,
”
she said.

“
Really? When did you hear that?
”
he asked.

“
On the radio, this morning. I liked him, didn
’
t you, Cecil? Didn
’
t you think he was sincere at getting to the bottom of this?
”

“
He
’
s sincere, all right. And smart. I hope we see some drastic changes resulting from that little man
’
s efforts.
”

The door opened a crack and a nurse peered in.
“
Althea, can I get you something?
”
Noticing Cecil, she continued,
“
Ah well, I see you have company. How nice.
”

“
Thank you, no. Everything is....fine,
”
answered the patient.

“
Are those pills taking effect, yet?
”

“
Some. I
’
m beginning to get drowsy.
”

“
Remember to buzz me if you have any trouble falling asleep. We want you rested, you know.
”

After the nurse had gone, Cecil began digging for his car keys.
“
I guess I
’
d better not keep you awake, then,
”
he said and rose.

“
You didn
’
t tell me why you
’
re in Los Angeles—what brought you here,
”
Althea said.
“
Some sort of business?
”

“
It was nothing,
”
he answered.

“
But you emailed me that you had important business here.
”

“
Well, it wasn
’
t very important, after all.
”

“
Oh, I see. Cecil, will you really be here tomorrow?
”
she asked.

“
Of course I will. Right here in this spot.
”
He tugged the blanket up under her chin.
“
I
’
ll be waiting right here.
”

“
Then I
’
ll see you tomorrow?
”

“
Yes. You will. And by the way, I
’
ll go to the house and have someone nail boards over the doors and windows for you.
”

“
I....I... How often have I thanked you for something you
’
ve done for me?
”

“
Don
’
t worry, Althea. Everything will be all right. You
’
ll see.
”
 

The night had been endless for Cecil. He had tossed around, failing to find sleep, until he
’
d finally given up, and dressed for the coming day. In street clothes, he sat in a chair, holding a book in his hand, but not reading. He wished he were at his apartment. This strangeness of a motel room—well, he had trouble sleeping in any bed not his own, and he just wished he were back in San Diego. The sooner, the better.

But of course that wouldn
’
t really resolve his problems, to ignore them. He had come here planning to ask Althea Carr to marry him, and now he was acutely aware that the situation had changed. Not his fondness for the woman—that was still there. Fondness, though, was hardly a proper reason for marriage. There was supposed to be love, that intangible state of emotion that Cecil was not sure he had ever experienced. He felt elated and proud when he had fulfilled her need,  but, that wasn
’
t love. Encountering a burst of gratitude from her after he had performed some menial, masculine function always inflated his self-importance and left him more determined than ever to have the pleasurable experience repeated. Perhaps the feeling was akin to those same desires he had sought to satisfy from his parents when he was a small boy. When the rewards had been gratifying, he had continued his infantile stunts until admonished by his parents to quit fooling around and go out to play. Their admonishments had crushed him, but he
’
d never failed to do their bidding. And here, years later, when the memories of his parents were faint, he was still seeking approval.

He slammed the book shut in disgust. Self-examination wasn
’
t a practice that he particularly enjoyed. But marriage? He needed that....he needed her. That she was black meant nothing, for after all they had been through, such a minor factor as skin color was easily transcended.

The night air was cold and wet. Some thinkers sit quietly to meditate, but he walked. He walked down the block, past the coffee shop, and on toward the single neon sign that emitted an eerie glow in the fog. A year ago he
’
d have hesitated before taking a midnight stroll anywhere in Los Angeles; in fact, he probably wouldn
’
t have done it at all. Now, after White Water, he no longer feared the darkness of a big city. Tonight, and for many to come, these empty streets would be safe for a lone pedestrian. He grimaced at the thought of how base some men could become, sinking to unparalleled depths to forward their own gains under the cover of darkness.

Shrubs had become overgrown forests around the tired-looking shop fronts. Cecil felt irritated that the tenants who had moved back in to resume business didn
’
t take greater pains to get their places tidy and trim. They seemed not to care about external appearances anymore—a completely opposite attitude from that before the incident at White Water. Los Angeles and its daughter cities had become outcasts, anathemas, to visitors and tourists, and as such, had lost their spirit, their verve, almost their desire to recover. Lacking physically demolished structures to satisfy the curiosity of the morbid, the towns had nothing to charm the people in from far away. Furthermore, a constant fear of radiation hung over the area even yet.

He was anxious to be gone from here. It was foolish for him to have come. Primping like a high school boy, he
’
d rushed up to Los Angeles, intending to declare his devotion to the woman and make her his own. Silly fool! A near helpless woman who
’
d have to be carefully treated for months, who
’
d be nothing but a burden until she
’
d mastered the art of handling a synthetic limb—he didn
’
t need a woman like that. On the other hand, she made him feel like a giant. She listened to him. She shared his ideas. She knew what was happening in the world.

It was no good. It wouldn
’
t have worked. He strolled aimlessly in the night, wishing for the sunrise.
 

They wouldn
’
t let him wait in the room. Instead, he sat in the lounge, making inquiries every ten minutes about when he could see her. Being barred from her room was distressing, since he
’
d promised her that
’
s where he
’
d be when she was returned from surgery. What would she think when she didn
’
t find him there?

It was late in the afternoon. Had something gone wrong? Was she all right?

“
Mr. Yeager, you can go in now,
”
said the nurse.
“
She
’
ll be very drowsy for the rest of the day so don
’
t be surprised if she drops right off to sleep. We would prefer that you remain only for a few minutes.
”

He tiptoed in. She was covered by a thick white blanket, her left foot conspicuously missing. The room was a gray shadowy cubicle, looking more tomb-like than like a repository for the living. He had forgotten the flowers. He
’
d have to get some for her.

“
Althea,
”
he whispered softly.
“
It
’
s me. Cecil.
”

She uttered the least audible of sounds.
“
Yes. I know.
”

“
Are you...are you okay?
”

“
Ummmm.
”
Other than the slight motion of her lips, she lay still as a stone.