Where's the Can Opener

Where's the Can Opener?

Time is ticking down. The end is near. Grandma rechecks her list for the umpteenth time.

1. Candles with lighters and matches
2. Radio / Ham radio
3. Flashlights; lanterns; batteries, all sizes
4. Tool box / sewing kit
5. Generator ready
6. Bottled water, for eight people for 30 days
7. Canned goods, dried fruit, ready to eat meals
8. Plates, utensils, pots
9. Blankets, pillows
10. First aid kits
11. Medications / vitamins
12. Reading material, especially Bible and survival magazines
13. Warm clothing
14. Air purifiers; gas masks; emergency oxygen; Geiger counter
15. Cash, lots of it; all of her life's savings
16. Firearms / ammo
17. Seeds: numerous varieties for planting to revitalize desecrated universe

She knows she has probably not thought of everything. And what will become of her and her family if the crisis lasts beyond thirty days? It probably won't matter because it means they never survived beyond the first few moments anyway.

No one knew exactly what to expect but it would undoubtedly be cataclysmic. The only ones that would be able to survive were those wise enough to prepare and stockpile plenty because hard to tell if any necessities would be available afterwards. And the ones that could stay below ground. Imperative. Air quality would be questionable. At least for thirty days as all the experts claimed.

We're hunkering down in our cramped bunker, really no more than a flattened out tin can buried underground. Sleeping accommodations for each person, a cooking counter, small bathroom/shower combo and minimal extra storage or moving around space. It would be our world for at least thirty days -- or our tomb.

Grandma insisted we each pack a suitcase and take the cross-town bus to her place to wait out this doomsday prediction.

10...9...The count down has started. The eight of us clasp on to one another. 8...7... My ever vigilant Grandma, her two sons, their spouses and us three kids. 6...5... We are praying like we have never prayed before. 4...3... With tears in our eyes we convey our love for one another. 2...1...

….............................................................................................................................

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

Then a loud rumbling started in the distance and rolled over us in a whoosh of violent wind. A cacophony of sounds none of us had ever experienced exploded above. Even Grandma who lived through the last war wasn't sure what it could be. All of our electric devices winked out at the same moment. Grandma was quick with a candle. Dad with a flashlight. 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.

Uncertainty loomed large. Somehow we struggled through those first miserable days. Yes, we love our family but too much familiarity can breed resentments, regrets and misunderstandings. We were literally nearly on top of one another. Patience grew thin and tempers short. If it hadn't been for Grandma's wise interventions we may never speak to each other the rest of our lives. Given the perspective that may not be all that long.

I take stock of my nest mates. There's my nucleus family (too soon to use that troublesome word?). My dad, Raymond, Grandma's baby boy. He puts on a strong front but I know he doubts his capabilities. He was incubated in an office environment. What will he know of survivalist skills? My mom, Charity. Her name says it all. She is expecting a third child within five months. What kind of world will that babe be brought into? My younger sister, Clarissa, or 'Claire-Bear' for short. Not even six-years-old yet she is innocence personified. I can't help feeling protective toward her. Then crusty old me, Luke, already a disillusioned youth at age fourteen.

Dad's older brother, Rupert, is a take charge kind of guy whenever Grandma (or his wife, Aunt Lou) allows it. Their daughter, Cousin It, short for 'It's all about me all the time' (she takes after her mother in that respect), is so painfully beautiful at fifteen one could hear hearts shattering whenever she walked by boys at school. Now all that charm is directed at me and what can I do about it, her being my cousin and all...

Last, but not least, Grandma. Whose diligence and absolute belief this madness was real saved us all thus far. Months ago she had Rupert, who as a carpenter should be good with his hands, refitting and stocking this old bomb shelter from the fifties that was in her back yard unused all these years into this comfy abode.

The place was built for four. It was tight for eight. The coned hatch above ground opened to a rusty ladder leading down then through a tunnel to the airtight door. Inside to one side was a camper-style mini-kitchen with two propane fueled cooking burners and tiny fridge. To the other side of the door was a wall-mounted hand crank to circulate fresh air next to a small desk that held Grandpa's old ham radio with a shelf above for the modern one. In the corner was a opaque curtain hiding the wet room consisting of a composting toilet with shower head above it. Next to that was a walk-in 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, narrow folding table like one from church 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 our side of the room I had the top bunk with Claire-Bear under me. I could crawl over to the double-decked full sized bed my parents used where extra storage was for propane tanks, etc. On the other side Cousin It used the top bunk with Gram below and her parents in the double bed once again complete with storage over top. Our suitcases with personal items were tucked under each bunk or bed.

Conservation was the main rule. We each could take two short showers a week then rinse out our most used clothing and hang to dry over the bathroom curtain rod. Had to respect someone else' dripping unmentionables.

We had a trash compactor—Rupert's size twelve boot stomping down in the waste bin. Compacted plastic bags replaced the stacks of bottled water as they were used. There was a long narrow trap door that opened to a sandy pit where we (meaning me) buried the bags from the toilet.

All of us desperately missed some aspect of our previous lives. Claire-Bear cried for Ellie, her favorite stuffed toy, a large elephant. Cousin It talked endlessly about her friends this and her friends that. Mom and Dad lacked privacy. Aunt Lou obsessed over having no 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. For breakfast it was oatmeal with raisins. Lunch was peanut butter on crackers. Suppers were pasta with homemade sauce or chicken soup. Treats were supposed to be canned fruit cocktail but the can opener was never found. Rupert had to beat them open with a knife and hammer.

I eked out a little space to do calisthenics. Claire-Bear 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 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 had finally fallen 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.

I read the same books so much to Claire-Bear she was starting to 'read' them back to me. Actually, I guess I was helping with her home schooling. Mom took on that function for all three of us, her being a real teacher out in the old order. We weren't going to get to escape that necessity. Gram led daily Bible studies.

Together we played a lot of cards and board games. Even had a few puzzles to pass the time. Gram or Mom had thought of everything. And so the days passed. Oh-- so-- slo---owly.

It was impossible to tell night from day. Something was blocking the small round skylight in the ceiling or else there was no more sunshine or 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.

Every once in a while the men would hover around the radios to try to catch some news to see if any sign of civilization still existed. The radios 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 am still not expecting like Charity. 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. Charity and I have a head start.”

“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 are so young with your whole life ahead of you. We can't ask you to put yourself at risk.” Dad insisted.

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

“You mean I would 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 elsewhere.”

So Gram hazmat-ted me up and sent me out with instructions. While out 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; hunch down through the tunnel; climb the rusty ladder; push open...push...push... Oh, no, started to wonder if Gram had packed a bigger kind of can opener. Finally, those overhead presses with Claire-Bear paid off and I was able to push open the coned hatch. A branch had been 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 I brushed it off. I could hear squeals of delight from below.

I looked at the air monitor and all the numbers 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?”

“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. Thunder snow! Knocked out some power. People still talking about it! Ha! Say howdy to your grandma will ya?”

“Know where I can find a can opener?”