Fallout

A few minutes later, Dad and Mr. Shaw climb back down into the shelter.

“Can we go up?” Sparky asks.

“In a moment.” Dad eases Mom to her feet. It’s so strange the way she doesn’t know us but knows to walk when he leads her. In the narrow corridor, Janet and Mrs. Shaw work with Dad to get her onto the bunk bed. Above them, Mr. McGovern reaches down to help her out.

Paula and Sparky go next.

Then Mrs. Shaw and Janet.

Then Ronnie.

Dad looks down from above. “Your turn, Scott.”

I climb up on the bunk bed toward the light and the bad smell. It’s slow going because I’m weak and have to pause and rest, but I’m eager and scared, too. Finally I poke my head out. Even though I’m in the playroom closet, it’s so bright that I have to squint. The playroom windows have been blasted out, leaving jagged ridges of glass in the frames. The floor is covered with broken glass, small branches, leaves, and toys. The rotten meat smell is strong, and I don’t have to ask what the large lumps are that lie under bedsheets here and there. My insides tighten, and the awful thoughts of what it must have been like for those above gnaws at me.

“Don’t look,” Dad says. “Go outside.”

Behind me, Mr. Shaw climbs out of the shelter and hands Dad the flashlight, first-aid kit, the green box, and some other things. Then he and Dad close the trapdoor.

Out in the backyard, the air is cold and fresh. The trees have been stripped bare, and all that remains are stubby, leafless limbs and trunks missing bark on the side that faced the blast. Window screens, tree branches, roof shingles, and sheets of newspapers lie on the ground among the dead leaves and patches of scorched brown grass. The sun is in the west, so for the first time in weeks, we have a sense of what time it is. The air is still, and the sky is mostly blue, with a few feathery clouds here and there.

Up here in the light, it’s a shock to see how thin and gaunt everyone’s gotten. Dad and Mr. McGovern look strange with their short beards. We move slowly and keep looking upward as if trying to adjust to not having a ceiling overhead. Squinting in the angled sunlight, we hug ourselves, not just because we’re chilled.

We’re outside.

It’s so quiet that we can hear Sparky’s teeth chatter.

We’re alive.

Squawking and honking comes from overhead. A V of black-and-white Canada geese flies high above us.

“From up north,” Mr. McGovern says.

“Look.” Mr. Shaw points behind us. In the distance a thin column of white smoke rises almost straight up into the air.

“Other people,” Dad says.

We’re not the only ones.

But now Dad’s looking back into the playroom with a stricken expression. He closes his eyes as if he wishes he couldn’t see.

Mrs. Shaw takes his arm. “It’s horrible, but we all couldn’t have survived, Richard.”

It’s strange that she’s the one who says it. Dad nods slowly as if he knows she’s right, but it still doesn’t make him feel better. He turns to Mr. Shaw and Mr. McGovern. “We have to give them a proper burial.”

The others agree. Paula tugs at her father’s hand as if there’s something he needs to do. “Daddy?”

“Yes, honey, in a second,” Mr. McGovern says, and steps closer to Dad. “Steven, I…” He trails off and swivels his head at Janet, who looks away. Paula’s father turns back to Dad. “I’m sorry. We all made mistakes… . Would you watch Paula for me? There are things I need to do.”

Dad nods. Mr. McGovern heads off, around our house, toward his own.

Mr. Shaw extends his hand. “Thank you, Richard.”

They shake.

“See you in the morning?” Dad asks, tilting his head toward our playroom.

“Yes, definitely.”

Mrs. Shaw gives Dad a hug, and Ronnie shakes his hand, then looks at me and moves his lips as if to say, See you later. He joins his parents, and they walk across Old Lady Lester’s backyard toward their home.

Dad turns to Janet. “It’s going to be dark soon. If you can wait until tomorrow, I promise that as soon as we finish what we have to do here, we’ll help you look for your children.”

“Thank you, Mr. Porter,” Janet answers.

When Dad turns to me next and places his hands on my shoulders, it catches me by surprise. He turns me to face him. “Scott, I’m proud of you. It was terrible down there, and you conducted yourself like a man.”

I don’t know what to say. Dad smiles and says we should go inside, where he’ll make a fire and heat water so we can wash and cook some food. He leads Mom toward the house. Janet and Paula go with him, and I begin to follow, then stop and look back.

Amid the broken branches, torn shingles, and ripped screens, Sparky’s on his toes with his arms spread out, spinning around and around on the scorched grass, laughing.

I can’t help but smile. What a kid.

AUTHOR’S NOTE