Fallout

His answer caught me by surprise. I’d never realized there was an age limit for spankings. This was the best news I’d heard in a long time.

Back home, Sparky was taking a bath. While Mom served Dad and me a slightly cold dinner, she asked how it had gone and Dad said fine, and then she left to make sure Sparky washed behind his ears.

My brother went to bed at eight, but I was allowed to stay up until eight thirty. A small reading lamp on my night table provided just enough light to read MAD magazine or its inferior imitator, Cracked. After I was in bed, Mom and then Dad would come in and kiss me good night.

That night when Dad came in, I whispered, “What’ll happen if the Russians drop the bomb?”

He thought for a moment, and the wrinkles near his eyes deepened. “It’ll be the end, I’m afraid.”

“Of everything?”

He seemed to hesitate, then nodded. It made me wonder if he thought that since I was now old enough not to be spanked, I was also old enough to hear the truth.

“We’ll all be killed?” I asked.

“Well, some people are building bomb shelters. They say that if you can stay belowground and away from the radiation for two weeks, you can probably survive.”

“Should we have one?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

It seemed odd that he’d only be “thinking” when it could save our lives.

As if Dad could read my mind, he said, “They’re expensive, Scott, and a lot of people think that because we’ve reached the point of mutually assured destruction, war no longer makes sense.” He sighed. “The problem is, wars almost never make sense — but that never stopped anyone before.”

17

My eyes open and it takes a moment to remember where I am, but the sounds of the others breathing in their sleep quickly reminds me. I yawn and stretch, then become aware of dampness around my middle — and the unmistakable smell of urine. My body goes rigid. I’ve wet the bed, something I haven’t done in years. And not only that, but I’ve done it in front of Ronnie and Paula…

Forget about perishing in a nuclear war; I could die from shame right now — unless I can keep it a secret. If I can somehow get Dad’s attention without the others noticing, maybe he can help me figure a way out of this mess. I inch toward the edge of the bunk and look over in the dim light, where my eyes immediately meet Mr. McGovern’s. He’s sitting against the wall with Paula’s head on his thigh while she sleeps. Against the other wall, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw lean into each other with their eyes closed. Janet sits with her head tilted down, her chin on her chest. Dad’s directly below me, his head also tilted down. Lying on her back on her bunk, Mom doesn’t look like she’s moved at all. I inch away from the edge until I feel Sparky behind me.

Wait… I touch the front of my pajamas. They’re dry. It was Sparky, not me! I feel a moment of relief, but then turmoil returns. How can I let the others know it wasn’t me without humiliating him?

There’s nothing to do except wait for Dad to wake up, but it’s chilly on the wet mattress. I curl up for warmth and still shiver. Meanwhile, unwanted thoughts invade my mind: What will happen to us without water? The grown-ups will probably decide that one of them will go out and look for it, even though it may mean getting radiation sickness. What if the water they find is full of radiation and makes us sick, too?

Or what if we find water and stay down here for two weeks, and when we get out, we’re the only ones left around here? Dad said we’d have to rebuild. But how could just the nine of us — ten if Mom gets better — do that? We’d need a lot more people.

What if Dad wasn’t only talking about rebuilding things like houses and roads, but the human race as well? If Mom gets better, she could have some more babies. And so could Mrs. Shaw. And Janet, who is pretty and slim and a little younger than both Mom and Mrs. Shaw, so maybe she could have a bunch. But that still wouldn’t be very many. Could Paula have babies? Maybe not right away, but soon? Like in a couple of years?

Then it hits me. If Paula is going to have babies someday, it’s going to have to be with Ronnie or me.

How’s that going to work? I don’t feel like I’m ready to have babies with anyone, but Ronnie probably can’t wait. If it was up to him, he’d probably want to start before we even get out of the shelter. There’s no doubt in my mind that when it’s time for Paula to have babies, Ronnie will be the father. He’s stronger and a better athlete and better-looking. I won’t stand a chance, which is kind of okay because I never really cared that much for Paula anyway.

But once Ronnie and Paula start having babies, there’ll be no one left for me.