Making a List

Making a List

3-2-1!

At first it seemed like nothing, nothing at all happened. Was this only hype, a cruel hoax played on the world?

Then a loud rumbling started in the distance and rolled over our heads in a whoosh of violent wind. A cacophony of sounds exploded above. Even Grandma who lived through the last war wasn't sure what it could be. All our electronic devices winked out at the same moment. We donned our gas masks to be extra cautious. We waited.

Finally, we sighed a collective sigh of relief when we were sure we had survived at least for the night. The unknown still awaited us. We were as prepared as we could possibly be.

Grandma had been making a list and checking it twice. Her backyard 1950's bomb shelter was built for four. It was tight for eight. The coned hatch above ground opened to a rusty ladder leading down to an airtight door. Inside was a mini-kitchen with two propane-fueled cooking burners and tiny fridge. A small desk held Grandpa's old ham radio. In one corner was a opaque curtain hiding a composting toilet with shower head above it. Next to that was a pantry holding all the canned goods, boxes of pasta, oatmeal, powdered milk, bottled water and the preserved mason jars of tomato sauce and chicken vegetable soup Gram had painstakingly prepared to keep us well fed. A long folding table with four folding chairs to either side ran between bunk beds. Curtained off double beds filled the far end with a changing room/closet between them at the back wall.

On my side of the room I had the top bunk with my five-year-old sister below me. Over the full sized bed my parents used was extra storage. On the other side fifteen-year-old Cousin It (so named because it was all about her) used the top bunk with Gram below and her parents in the double bed.

Conservation was the main rule. Two short showers a week for each then rinse out our clothing and hang to dry over the bathroom curtain rod. Uncle Rupert's size twelve boot stomping down in the waste bin was our trash compactor.

All of us desperately missed some aspect of our previous lives. My little sister cried for Ellie, her large stuffed elephant. Cousin It talked endlessly about her friends this and her friends that. Mom and Dad lacked privacy. Aunt Lou obsessed over having no full-sized mirrors or soaking tub. Rupert liked to spend time smoking and drinking with the guys talking sports. Oops, Gram packed no booze whatsoever and absolutely no smoking allowed. She missed her soap operas. I was suffering Nintendo withdrawal and having a hard time sleeping.

We all missed normal meals but Gram had food pretty well covered although everything was rationed. Treats were supposed to be canned fruit cocktail but the can opener was never found. For all her planning and rechecking lists somehow that detail was missed.

I eked out a little space to do calisthenics. Little sis would climb on my back when I did push-ups and I would sit on a chair to lift her over my head as she laid out stiff like an overhead press. It was fun for both of us. Cousin It usually rolled her eyes at us but I caught her doing sit-ups in her bunk, too.

Mom, expecting baby number three, practiced yoga and and something she called Pilates on her bed. She tried to teach Aunt Lou but she no would do. When he wasn't climbing the walls Rupert would challenge Dad to arm wrestling because he knew he would always win. Whenever I finally fell asleep he would wrestle Lou around on their bed making the springs squeak. With all the moaning and groaning I'm not sure if there was ever a winner behind their curtain.

Mom took on the necessary home-schooling function for all three of us, her being a real teacher out in the old order. Gram led daily Bible studies. Together we played a lot of cards and board games. Even had a few puzzles to pass the time. And so the days passed. Oh-- so-- slowly.

It was impossible to tell night from day. Something was blocking the small round skylight in the ceiling or else there was no more daylight left out there anymore. Only perpetual darkness.

Gram was the timekeeper. She was the only one responsible enough to remember to wind that annoying old clock. It often kept me awake listening to the endless 'tick-tock' well into the sleeping hours. She marked off days on the desk calendar.

Sometimes the men would hover around the radio trying to catch some news to see if any sign of civilization still existed. The radio only squawked static.

One night after we kids were supposed to be asleep I heard the adults discussing something around the table with an apparatus spread out before them. One dim candle burning.

“Mom, there is no way you are going to be the one to do that.” Uncle Rupert. “I am the oldest, I'll do it.”

“Oh, Rupe, how can you risk it. You still have us to worry about.” Aunt Lou as she clasped his elbow. ”And I'm still not expecting. Let Raymond go.”

“I know more about it. I'll do it.” My dad spoke up.

“You have a bigger family with a new member to consider. I'll take care of it myself.” Gram seemed to settle it.

“Lou is right. The more we can reproduce to populate this new world, the better. We have a head start.” Dad hugged Mom.

“Maybe it isn't wise to put anybody else through what we may be facing. We don't know what kind of conditions await us. Maybe there is nothing left and we can't grow food.” I had never heard anything so negative from my mom before.

I poked my head out from behind my bunk curtain. “What task do you need done? I have no family to take care of or no way to start. Can I do whatever you want?”

“Oh, sorry to wake you, Son. You're only fourteen with your whole life ahead of you. We can't ask you to put yourself at risk.” Dad insisted.

“Nonsense. If Luke is willing to be a man let him step up to the plate.” Rupert taking charge. “We're running low on supplies. It's time to check outside to see if it's safe enough to venture out. This device reads air quality. There may be some risk to exposure that could leave a man sterile. You understand?”

“You mean I'd never be able to start a family. That's already a real possibility. We don't try to go out, we die of starvation. We go out and can't restart the world, we die. We go out and there are no women available for me to hook up with. I got that now unless you want to count my very own cousin. E-ewe! What do you need me to do? I'll take my chances.”

So Gram hazmat-ted me up and sent me out with instructions. I was to take a good look around to assess the situation. And see what was blocking the skylight.

With my personal headlamp on high beam I slip through the steel door, climb the rusty ladder, push...push...push...! Finally, those overhead presses with little sister paid off and I was able to push open the coned hatch. A branch had tangled across it.

I crept out expecting the worse. Imagine my surprise and delight when I saw sunshine. Yeah, real honest to goodness normal winter pale sunshine! Lots of snow covered the ground and naturally the skylight to our domain. Had to dig some but when I brushed it off I heard squeals of delight from below.

All the numbers on the air monitor read good to me as the adults had explained it. I ventured a little farther. The oak tree littered the yard with limbs and branches. One fell across the wires leading to the house. The in-tact house! I ventured a little farther and opened the gate of the back yard.

Standing at the front of the driveway I realized a few people were out and about. Sure they were bundled in their winter garb, but I was the only one wearing hazmat. Gram's neighbor walked up to me.

“Did your grandmother get back from snow-birding in Arizona already? Is that a new look the kids are wearing these days? New millennium or what? Could you douse that light, please?”

“Tell me, Mr. Ambrose. How did everyone make it through the Y2K Bug?”

“Y2K bug? Oh, you mean the computer scare? A few isolated minor glitches but generally not as hyped up as everyone was predicting. No planes fell out of the sky. No nuclear missiles automatically launched. Did have that horrendous snowstorm come through right at midnight a month ago. Thunder snow! Knocked out some power. People still talking about it! Ha! Say howdy to your grandma, will ya?”