Page 6 of Resistant

We still have intermittent satellite TV reception, and the internet service is like a yoyo, completely unreliable. The automated voice that typically says this is a test doesn’t come. Instead, another voice declares an emergency in the area.

A news anchor appears on the screen.

“Good evening, this is Scott Bayer reporting from an undisclosed location. Tonight, I am saddened to report that the conflict between The New Reform government of the United States and the group who call themselves The Resistance has escalated. Please take cover immediately. I repeat, please take cover immediately. The New Reform government has declared that it is putting an end to the conflict with the use of nuclear weapons. No word on how long the attack will go on, or where the weapons will be detonated.”

A slick sweat breaks out all over my body.

“Nathan! David! We are going to the basement right now!” I yell.

I struggle to process what I have just seen, my feet rooted to the floor. Fear slaps into me like icy water. My breaths come in pants, and I feel lightheaded.

The commotion of multiple thumping footsteps going down the stairs to the basement filters through my mind.

“Mama!” Nathan screams and I hear Lily bark from downstairs.

My ability to reason kicks in gear and I run after them.

A loud boom sounds in the distance and the house shakes. We all stare at each other in shock. David’s eyes are round as saucers and Nathan reaches a trembling hand toward him. David eagerly crawls into his brother’s lap.

“What was that?” David whispers.

“I don’t know.” I whisper back.

We fall silent listening for more explosions. Lily whimpers and thumps her tail for me. I scratch her ears absently. The minutes tick by. Minutes turn into hours and the light starts fading from the room. I pull the rickety chain for the bare light bulb fixture and sigh in relief when it flickers on. The adrenaline has faded from my body, but the fear remains.

David is snuggled up to my side on an old couch. The fabric is scratchy, and I ache to shift positions. I can feel a tingling starting in my left foot. Nathan is softly snoring in the armchair when the power blinks off and back on. A flash bursts on the dark TV screen and scrunched up aluminum foil attached to the rabbit ears falls to the floor. The light bulb clicks off, and the hum of a small refrigerator silences.

I wait in the darkness for my eyes to adjust. Nathan’s breathing whooshes across from me. I slowly disentangle myself from David and stand. Pins and needles come to life in my foot and I kick my toes to the floor trying to restore blood flow.

I climb the stairs and reset the breakers. The lights flicker back on, and I methodically move through the house turning everything off.

I go back to the basement and plug in an old radio. Static bursts from the speakers and I hurry to turn down the volume and find a station. A panicked radio host from somewhere in Florida tries to describe what is happening. Explosions are occurring all over the country. He also talks about EMPs and that anything with a computer chip has stopped working.

My mind wanders from the broadcast and I think about all the people out there who were not safe in their basement with their children.

Where is Wyatt? Is he okay?

My fingers shake and I hear the loud whooshing of my blood pressure in my head. I take slow, deep breaths to avoid passing out.

I need to focus on something else.

Most of my modern appliances won’t work anymore after the EMP bursts. I will need to hang a clothesline and wash all our clothes and linens by hand from now on, but it is doable. My water heater is pretty ancient too, so we should have hot water if we have power.

My inner voice guffaws,why am I worried about chores?We may not be alive tomorrow.

The fallout could reach us here and we would die from radiation poisoning.

I call Lily and take her outside to do her business. I see an orange glow in the distance but I’m so keyed up that I’m unsure if it’s real or if my eyes are playing tricks on me.

I drag all our potted vegetable plants inside the house. Night falls and the glow disappears. It’s darker than I remember it being before.

I wake in the morning cramped on the couch with my neck aching and joints popping.

The radio is still playing near my ear. A different host is reporting nuclear explosions all over the country, the closest to our house is roughly 150 miles away in Vidalia.

It’s cold in the house, which is strange since it’s been so hot. I run upstairs and wrap a robe around me and peek through the curtains from my bedroom.

I’m shocked to see a heavy fog covering the entire landscape. It’s so thick I can barely see the trees.

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