American Sunrise

When I woke up, I noticed that two things were different. First, the birds had grown deadly silent. Second, the sun seemed to be coming in through the west side of the room, rather than the east. 

Was I still dreaming? No, looking around my room it seemed as if everything, except the light, was in order, nothing like the dreams I’d been having of late, filled with blood and screams…

I shook my head. That was the other thing. I could hear my clock ticking, and the rustle of my pajamas against the fabric of my bed sheets, but the sound outside my room seemed to have stopped. I couldn’t hear the birds, the insects or the traffic that was typical at any time of day. Listening as hard as I could, I could pick up a faint sound coming from outside, growing louder by the second. It sounded like the motor of a plane, but no plane that I had ever heard before.

I began to feel uneasy. Creeping to my window, I drew back the curtains looking west. It looked like the entire sky was on fire, and instead of the perfect orange circle of the sun, it seemed to burn straight across the horizon, bending only slightly with what must have been the curvature of the Earth. 

The sound was growing louder by the second. Not just one motor, I realized. It must be hundreds, even thousands. A shadow passed over my window. Looking up with growing dread, I watched the underbelly of a plane fly over my house. To the left and right there were more, stretching as far as the eye could see. 

For a moment I was frozen in sheer terror. Then, my mind connecting all the puzzle pieces, I leaped into action. 

My sister, Sophie, was still asleep downstairs. I ran down and into her room, my heart beating wildly. She was still asleep, her dark curls framing her pale face, making it almost light up in the darkness. She was nearly eleven, but still slept with a mountain of her stuffed animals around her bed. 

I shook her awake, trying not to let my panic creep into my voice. “Sophie, Sophie wake up!”

She looked at me, blinking sleep out of her eyes. “Whats going on?”

“There's, uh, a drill going on. We need to get to the shelter. Now!”

She frowned. “I don’t hear the sirens.”

“Yes, but” my mind searched for an excuse. “It's a surprise. They didn’t want us to know they were doing a drill.”

She burrowed deeper into her pile of stuffed animals. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jonas. I’m going back to sleep. Wake me up when Mom and Dad get home.”

“Mom and Dad are already in the shelter. They sent me to get you.” This was a lie, of course. They had left the night before to a party. I didn’t know where they were, and I wasn’t sure if we would see them again. But that wasn’t my concern right now. Right now, I just wanted to get Sophie into the shelter. 

“Really?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“Yes, really, now let's go!”

Grabbing one of her hands, I pulled her out of bed. “Come on, hurry!”

She grumbled, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floors, her other hand holding one of her stuffed animals. Some kind of cat. 

We walked down the long flight of stairs into the shelter. Our family was lucky. As one of the wealthy families, we had our own shelter, with enough supplies to last a family of four three weeks. If our parents never returned, we could make the supplies last six weeks. 

“You should probably go back to sleep.” I tell Sophie. “We don’t know how long this drill will last.”

She shrugs. “They don’t last that long. Plus you already woke me up. I’m going to find Mom and Dad.”

“Wait!” I tell her. “They are asleep. They’re tired from that party they went to. You don’t want to wake them up.”

She sighs, and walks over to the kitchen area. Pulling out a piece of paper, she settles herself at the table in the middle of the room and begins to draw. I sit at the other end and begin to play with the radio.

The shelter is divided into three areas, the kitchen area, which doubles as the main area, and to one side, the bathroom, the other, the bedroom, each separated by curtains. 

The radio is top-of-the-line, but still struggles to reach as far down as we are. Finally, I find a channel, and turn it down, hoping Sophie won’t hear. I put my hands on the table, and then rest my head on my hands, trying to look bored.

The radio is cutting in and out, but I can still make out voices. “--Reminding people to stay where they are! Now back--Jane, for any updates?”

“Thank--No word yet from the President. As of yet--unable to identify where exactly the planes are from--suspicious lack of markings. Experts are--to the blitz in the second World War, however such tactics--nearly three hundred years.”

At that moment, Sophie looked up. “What’re you listening to?”

I tried to smile. “Nothing, just the radio. You should go back to coloring.”

She shook her head. “Can I listen? My current events report is due tomorrow, and I haven’t started writing it yet.”

I shook my head. “It's boring, you don’t want to listen.”

“You think I’m not old enough!” 

“No,” I said. Yes, I thought.

“Jonas! You always act like I’m not old enough to do anything! I am! I deserve to know what's going on in the world! Let me listen!” her last words became a scream, echoing around the shelter for a moment. She put her hands over her mouth. “Did I wake Mom and Dad up?”

She ran over to the curtain. “Wait!” I called out, but it was too late. She threw the curtain open and gazed upon the empty beds. 

She turned towards me, her voice quivering--in shock or anger, I couldn’t tell. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

Feeling helpless, I sighed. “Come here.” She walked towards me. “Look Sophie, this isn’t a drill. Whole areas of the country have been bombed. They are very far away, and we are safe down here, ok? I don’t know where Mom and Dad are but I’m sure they are safe. As soon as we know it's ok to come out, they’ll find us.”

“Why didn’t the alarms go off?” She whispered. 

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It must have malfunctioned, somehow. Lets just listen to the radio.”

I turned it up so we could both hear. Now, the reporter from earlier was saying “We are getting reports--don’t resemble any plane of any nation we know of. We have reached--still no response.”

The second reporter began talking. “We are beginning--rumors that the sirens were intentionally--” Sophie looked at me, confused. I shrugged. Then, the reporter began shouting. “What are--soldiers inside the studio--appear to be American--” The radio cut to static. 

“What was that?” I asked, trying to find another station. I was met with only silence. 

Around us, the ground began to shake. The bombing must have reached where we were. In a final, desperate attempt, I climbed under the table, holding Sophie against my chest. I don’t know how long we sat there--It felt like hours, but must have only been minutes. Finally, we climbed out, limbs shaking. 

We survived. I thought. Now we just have to make sure the radiation doesn’t kill us. 

I took a deep breath, trying to remember what to do next. I knew the procedure for getting into the shelter, but I wasn’t so sure how to live in one, or what to do next. At a loss, I turned to Sophie. “We should probably have breakfast,” she said. 

I nodded, and opened the cabinet full of emergency supplies. I pulled out two packs of oatmeal, and began to boil water. Sophie sat by my feet, wrapped her arms around her legs, and said nothing. 

Mid-way through eating the oatmeal, the ground began to shake again. They must be doing another round! I realized. We climbed under the table again. Strangely, the second time it was not as frightening. We knew the shelter would hold. 

Sophie looked up at me. “How many more times do you think they’ll bomb us?”

I felt more helpless than I had ever felt before. “I have no idea.” I said. 

It would turn out to be three more times. Three more rounds of bombings. After nearly an hour had gone by after the last bombing, Sophie shrugged and looked at me. “Well, I don’t think they were atomic.”

“Why not?”

“The only country that has enough atom bombs to do that is our own.”

Those words made me think of something. Something that had been lurking in the back of my mind for a while, but that had not fully formed. “Sophie, what if it was our country?”

She shrugged. “We can check”, she said, pointing at the radiation suits our father had bought us. 

I nodded. “Ok. I’ll put one on and look out to see. But not you. Stay here, ok?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. 

I put the suit on, and began to walk up the stairs. It weighed nearly 30 pounds, with lead string woven into the fabric. I got to the hatch, and braced myself. I knew that everything would be flattened--nothing could survive that heavy of bombing. Still, nothing could prepare me for what I saw. The built in Geiger counter was going wild, but I couldn’t look away. 

The world had been flattened. Nothing remained, except a few twisted pieces of metal. Everything else was dust. The sun was obscured by clouds, and the only light was coming from the east, where fires still raged, creating a twisted sunset.