Fallout

The president had a funny way of speaking that had something to do with being from an important Massachusetts family. He said that the Soviets had given false statements about their weapons. The Soviets was another name for the Russians, who were also called Commies, Ruskies, and Reds. The president said that the Soviets were putting two types of weapons on Cuba — medium-range ballistic missiles that could reach Washington and intermediate-range missiles that were capable of reaching Hudson Bay in Canada. Sparky glanced at me with a scowl. Our parents had once gone to Canada for a vacation and came back with Hudson Bay blankets, and I bet he was wondering why the Soviets would want to shoot a missile all the way up there… unless they had something against blankets.

The president said the missiles were weapons of mass destruction and that the Soviets were lying about why they were putting them on Cuba. He used a lot of big words, and when he said a quarantine of Cuba was going to be initiated, I wanted to ask Dad what that meant, but I knew he’d tell me to wait until the speech was over.

When the president began talking about the organ of consultation and the Rio Treaty, Sparky started playing with a Slinky. I was tempted to play with my army men, but I watched mostly to see if the president would explain what the Commies had against Hudson Bay and what a quarantine was.

Then Mom came in. I had a feeling that she’d stayed out of the den on purpose to let Dad know that she was against Sparky and me watching the speech, but now she finally gave in to curiosity. She stood with her arms crossed while President Kennedy said that many months of sacrifice and self-discipline lay ahead, and that the cost of freedom was always high and one thing we would never do is surrender. Then he said, “Thank you and good night,” and the speech was over.

I looked at Dad. “When he talked about the cost of freedom, he wasn’t talking about money, was he?”

Dad sighed and shook his head.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to school tomorrow,” I whispered to Dad at bedtime that night. Sparky was already asleep in the other bed.

Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

“If the Russians attack, we may not have time to get home.”

Dad leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. “Go to school and don’t worry so much.”

But it was impossible not to.

49

Everyone’s sick. The air smells tart and pungent, and there’s hardly a moment when someone isn’t sitting on the toilet bucket. I feel dizzy and hot with a cramped stomach that’s different from the cramps that come from hunger. For the first time in days, I don’t think about food or even getting out of the shelter. I just want to stop feeling sick.

By now, the men have torn their pajama tops into rags, but there’s still not enough. Dad is the first one to take off his pajama bottoms. Only there isn’t any material around for Janet to make him a loincloth the way she did for Sparky.

We nap, wake, sit on the toilet bucket, and lie around feeling too ill and weak to move or talk.

“I wish you’d never built this thing,” Mr. Shaw tells Dad.

Finally I wake up and the cramps are gone. Dad hands me a cup of water, and I gulp it down. Most of the others are awake. Somehow they don’t look as sick as before.

“It’s time,” says Mr. McGovern. His jaw is covered by a short, scruffy beard, and the skin that once stretched tightly over his round belly is loose and saggy.

“Let me check —” Dad begins to reach for the radiation kit.

“I don’t care anymore,” Mr. McGovern says, cutting him short. “I’m going up.”

He doesn’t sound crazy or desperate like Mr. Shaw did. Instead, he’s calm and determined. When he starts to get up, I half expect Dad to try and stop him, but he doesn’t. Paula watches without a word.

Mr. McGovern stands in the dim shadows, a grown, naked man with skinny legs and flat feet. “I’ll need the light,” he says.

Dad picks up the flashlight.

“Can I come?” Sparky asks.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Make sure he stays there,” Dad tells Janet, and takes out two of the gas masks.

With the masks on, they look like naked men with horse heads. The shelter gets darker when Dad follows Mr. McGovern around the shield wall and into the narrow corridor. We listen to the muffled sounds of Mr. McGovern’s grunts and heavy breaths as he starts to climb up the rungs. Then it gets quiet. Then more grunts and heavy breaths. Another quiet period follows.

Finally the bolt beneath the trapdoor slides open with a screech.

My heart speeds up.

Silence.

Then a grunt and a groan as if Mr. McGovern is struggling.

“It’s heavy,” Dad says, his voice muffled by the mask.

A louder groan follows, along with the clank of metal.

Then more heavy breathing.

We all hear what Mr. McGovern says next: “There’s something on the other side blocking it.”