The End of the World as We Know It

The world was stunned and horrified on August 6, 1945. And again, just three days later. Within a month the Second World War ended. Global leaders endorsed treaties with the hope that nuclear weapons would never again be used by one major foreign superpower against another.

*****

Sam awoke with a start. Innately he knew something terrible was happening. He jumped out of bed, tugged on the cord to open his blinds, and surveyed the Los Angeles landscape from his tenth-floor apartment vantage point.

“Hmmm, a little cloudy, but everything seems pretty normal,” he thought.

He stepped into the shower, but the warm water engulfing him couldn’t shake his uneasiness. He hung his head, standing under what should have been a soothing stream of water, feeling a sense of doom and despair.

After stepping out of the shower, drying off with a towel, then tying it around his waist, Sam grabbed his remote and turned on the TV. The first thing he saw was a mushroom cloud. 

“Must be an old reel from World War II,” he thought.

He flipped to another channel. Newscasters were in a frenzy. He turned up the volume.

“Today is a day we never could have imagined in our worst nightmares. The U.S. is under attack. Our nation’s capital has been annihilated. Washington, D.C. was struck by a nuclear weapon at 3:07 a.m. today,” newscasters were hurriedly shouting.

Clips of footage from security cameras surrounding the D.C. area showed obscured images in the moonlight of a bomb dropping from a plane, followed by a bright blast, a mushroom cloud, and then devastation for miles. The city was decimated.

Sam logged onto his laptop to see if he could learn more from his social media feeds.

“OMG, OMG, OMG,” was the first post he saw, followed by a litany of questions, none of which currently held any answers:

“Who did this?”

“Why, WHYYYY?”

“How were they able to fly into our highly-protected airspace?”

“Who will run the country now?”

“How will the U.S. retaliate?”

Then came the conspiracy theorists:

“It was Iran. They’ve built up an arsenal and they’re retaliating over the “weapons of mass destruction” debacle of the President Bush era.”

“It was Russia. They’ve been meddling in politics and hacking our government for years. Now they’ve literally gone nuclear.”

“It was China. You want to give us a trade war? We’ll give you a WAR!”

“Obviously it was North Korea. This has been Kim Jong-un’s dream – world domination. What better way than to destroy the ‘Capital of the Free World!’”

Sam turned his attention back to the TV.

“We’ve now been able to confirm that the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House of Representatives and most, if not all, of the Cabinet members were in Washington, D.C. at the time of the attack. Who will run the country remains the question of the day.”

Sam tried to call his family, most of whom still lived where he had grown up – in Arlington, Virginia – just a short ten-minute drive over a bridge from Washington, D.C. But the lines were dead and none of his attempted calls went through.

Sam turned back to the footage that cameras throughout the surrounding area had captured. Chaos had ensued within minutes of the blast. Those who managed to live through it immediately got into their cars, trucks, RVs or boats; or they took off on foot attempting to flee as far as possible from the nuclear fallout. They’d all seen the Hiroshima and Nagasaki footage in history classes and knew the actual blast was only the beginning. Radiation sickness would be the devastating part two of this nuclear attack.

Sam crawled back under the covers of his bed, pulling them up tightly to his chin. Apprehension engulfed him. 

“What if this is just the beginning?” he thought. “What if Los Angeles is next?”

A tear rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it off with a fist. But the tears kept coming. Having no idea if his family was dead or alive, or if they would end up dying a gruesome death from radiation sickness, he was inconsolable. His amygdala was running on overdrive. Neurochemicals and hormones were racing through his body, his heart was pounding so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest and he was nearly hyperventilating. He put his head under his comforter to try to calm himself down. That effort only served to irritate him when it felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

Sam jumped up and began pacing around his apartment. Suddenly his phone rang. He warily picked up his cell phone and saw it was his mother calling him. 

“Mom? Mom??? Are you guys ok?” Sam shouted.

“Yes, yes, we’re fine Samuel,” she replied.

Only Sam’s mother was allowed to call him ‘Samuel.’ He didn’t really like it, but in this particular moment it was reassuring to hear his mother’s voice and to be called 'Samuel' one more time, when he hadn’t been sure he’d ever hear it again.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Well, honey, that’s why I called you as soon as I could get through,” she replied, “The whole family is on vacation in New Hampshire. All twelve of us. Except for you of course since you live so far away. We rented a big house on the beach and still have five days left on the rental.”

“Thank god,” Sam muttered as he slumped back down on his bed.

“I was so worried you were in the fallout zone,” he added.

“We’re fine dear. We’ll contact the owners of the house and find out if we can stay here longer. If not, we’ll go somewhere else...nowhere near D.C.”

“Ok Mom,” Sam replied as the phone started crackling and the connection immediately went dead.

He pulled out his laptop again and did a few Google searches on previous nuclear events and how long it took for radiation levels to be safe for humans. It dawned on him that it would be years before his family, along with millions of others who managed to survive the blast, would be able to return home.  

“Oh god,” he said out loud, “I hope they don’t think all twelve of them are going to crash in my studio apartment for a couple of years. All I need is an apartment full of angst-ridden adults and toddler temper tantrums.”

But then he quickly admonished himself for being a horrible, selfish person in a time of crisis. Of course, they would have to come crash at his place in L.A. eventually. Their money wouldn’t last forever jumping from rental house to rental house, not to mention that all their jobs were now just…gone.

Sam stewed over how he could possibly make that work. He’d need to purchase air mattresses, blankets, and pillows. And he’d need to stock up on supplies – especially water, food, toilet paper, toiletries. All the things people never think about until suddenly they can’t find them anywhere when they're in the midst of a crisis.

“Nah, this is crazy,” he thought to himself, “They’ll figure out a solution. I know they don’t want to crowd into my apartment any more than I want them to. But still…”

Quickly Sam went online and ordered everything he could think of that they might need, spending what little savings he had on the supplies.

Within hours the news media was imploring people to stay calm.

“Please do NOT make a run on all essential goods. They are needed in the D.C. metro area and are being trucked there as we speak.”

“Hmmm, well now I feel kind of bad about all those purchases, but then again, in times like this everyone needs to take care of their own,” he thought, “survival of the fittest.”

Two Months later:

Sam was still feeling somewhat insulated from the U.S. crisis since it was thousands of miles away and, so far, his family was alright. He had his huge stacks of supplies in boxes lining the walls of his apartment should they ever become necessary. And if they didn’t, he could donate them to charity. They wouldn’t go to waste.

Then, one evening after Sam got home from work, he turned on the TV to the sound of loud music and a banner across the screen: Breaking News Alert. He sat down on the edge of his couch. All the newscasters were once again speaking in an absolute frenzy.

“The U.S. military coalition has uncovered the source of the nuclear attack on our nation. It, in fact, was not Russia. It was not North Korea. It was not China. It was not Iran. It was an inside job. An extreme faction with operatives all over the country secretly plotted to take down our entire government and they succeeded. The coalition has now arrested the leaders of the movement: Jake McNeil, Don Masterson, Jed Baker and Phil Conners. They were each running secret underground cells that could not be detected by Homeland Security at any stage of their planning. The coalition won’t divulge how these operatives were able to enter highly-protected airspace, nor will they ever,” the news anchor briskly announced.

“Now, we’ll head over to our correspondent, Tom Benson, who’s been in the press room at the temporary White House in Atlanta to hear from the acting President of the United States, Erin Barlow.”

“Thanks Doris. Yes, I’m here in the press room in Atlanta. Acting President Barlow is now entering for a press conference,” said Tom.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, and everyone around the world, it is with extreme sorrow that I disclose that this attack on our nation was spawned by a home-grown underground movement to overthrow our government and everything we value and love about this great country. So, it is with great satisfaction that I inform you that we have captured the leaders and are in the process of arresting and incarcerating hundreds of their operatives, as we speak. Now I’ll address your questions.” 

Sam slowly tuned out. That news only answered one of his many questions, and he didn’t want to hear anything more about these attackers, their backgrounds, their justifications for their actions, or any speculation about what caused them to do something so evil.

His thoughts kept going back to: "What about all the unemployed and homeless? What about all those families, like mine, who may be able to survive for a few months, but certainly not for years? What about the people who may never be able to return to their homes?"

Then he thought of more banal questions like, "When will I walk into a grocery store and not see every shelf nearly empty?

And the existential questions, "When will the world feel ‘normal’ again? Will it ever feel normal again?"

Sam’s cell started ringing. He looked down and saw it was his mother.

“Hi Mom. How’s everything going?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Not great Samuel. We’ve moved to four different rental houses in New England, but now the rental market has all dried up. Millions of other mid-Atlantic transplants have moved up here and by this weekend we’ll have nowhere else to go.” 

Sam could hear his mother’s voice cracking and before long she was starting to sniffle, then she broke into sobs, “We don’t know what to do any more, Samuel…”

“It’s ok Mom. I’ve got you covered. You can all come stay with me. My place is tiny, but it’s safe. I already have bedding, food and supplies for all of you. Now that the perpetrators have been caught, we know L.A. won’t be attacked. Try not to worry.”

“Oh Samuel, how can I ever thank you??? You’re saving us from living in our cars. You’re the best son a mother could ever hope for.”

“You may not think so when you see how small my apartment is, and when we’re all sharing one bathroom, but we’ll make it work, Mom. The world has changed forever, but we’ll do our best to make life as normal as possible together.” 

“Ok, Samuel. We’ll have to drive across the country since airplanes still aren’t flying and trains have all been stopped, so it will take us several days. We’ll start heading west on Saturday and hopefully will be there by the middle of next week.”

“Ok Mom, keep me posted so I’ll know when to expect everyone.”

Sam put down his phone, then sat down on the floor and started unpacking box after box of supplies. He laid out the power cords and power strips for all the air mattresses to ensure they could all reach electrical outlets. Then he unpacked and threw a blanket and a pillow on each mattress. He stacked all the boxes of toiletries right outside the bathroom so everyone could easily find what they needed. Then he started unpacking the cases of food and stacking them in all his kitchen cupboards and on the counters.

While he worked, mentally preparing for the onslaught of 12 family members moving into his tiny studio apartment, and knowing he might not again have ‘alone’ time for years to come, he sang to himself:

“It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)” *

* Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, Michael Stipe (1987). It’s the End of the World as We Know It. [Recorded by R.E.M.]. On Document. Location: I.R.S. Records.