Half Past Midnight

frightened. It meant she felt more like Megan, the little girl, than Megan, the all-powerful teenager.

“Okay, you guys, we need to talk.” I knelt so I would be at Zachary’s eye level and looked up at Megan. “Megan, I think you’ve already got a pretty good idea of what’s going on, don’t you?”

Her striking brown eyes showed worry but little fear as she nodded. “I think so.”

“Smart girl.” I held my hands out to her brother. “Come here then, Zach.”

He came over and sat on my raised knee. His normally cherubic face was totally serious, evidently sensing the tension that the rest of us were trying to hide. “What’sa matter, Dad?”

“You know what a war is, don’t you, Zach?”

“Yeah, it’s when ever’body shoots each other and stuff, like on TV.”

I almost smiled. “Close enough. Okay, listen up. This morning, a real war started between another country and ours. I don’t know yet who we’re at war with, but we have to get to your Nanna’s house so we’ll be safe until we know more.”

He thought about it for a second. “Why won’t we be safe here?”

“Do you know what a nuclear bomb is?”

He shook his head. “Huh uh.”

“A nuclear bomb is a bomb that can blow up a whole city and poison the air all around it with radiation.”

“What’s radiation?”

“Well, it’s… uh, it’s a kind of poison that works real slow so that you don’t know you’ve been poisoned for a long time.”

“Can’t a nukilar bomb hurt us at Nanna’s?”

“Nuclear.” I automatically corrected. “And yes, a nuclear bomb could hurt us at Nanna’s. But they probably won’t drop one there.”

“Why not?”

Could he understand the concept of priority targeting? Debra saved me from attempting to find out. “Because they don’t know where she lives.”

That apparently made sense to him. After a few more questions, he said he understood. I doubted it, but at least the effort had been made.

Our talk completed, Debra began telling the kids what still needed to be done before we could leave. She issued tasks like a commanding officer, and the kids took orders like two soldiers as I took care of a little task of my own.

Our backup vehicle was an old, very old, dirt bike that I needed to check over. I’d be riding shotgun for the van on the motorcycle for a couple of reasons. The bike was a much more economical vehicle than the van when you considered gas consumption and, since it couldn’t fit in the van, it had to be ridden. Also, if the traffic turned out to be as bad as we anticipated, we could probably use it to open up a place for the van between vehicles that might be reluctant to let people in.

As soon as I completed my check of the bike, I grabbed an old military surplus ammo case from my tool cabinet. I hesitated a moment, considering my actions. As long as the case remained closed, the contents were protected from EMP. Once I opened it though, I risked losing the treasure inside if another warhead were to explode.

Well, they’re not doing me any good locked away. I took a deep breath and opened the case. Nestled inside were two cloth-wrapped bundles. The cloth kept the contents from coming into contact with the metal sides of the case, which would in theory have kept them protected from this morning’s pulse that had fried just about any electronic system it touched. Almost reverently, I removed the first bundle and reclosed the case. I unfolded the cloth, and held the little radio up for inspection.

It was a combination AM/FM/weather radio and flashlight that powered off of either the built in solar cells, or an attached hand crank. I cranked the handle for a few seconds and watched the charge indicator begin to glow. After a few seconds I turned the radio on. There was nothing but static, but at least it worked. I exhaled with relief, only then realizing that I’d been holding my breath for several seconds.

I carefully re-wrapped the radio, placed it back in the protective ammo box, and checked the second radio. It also passed inspection, and I grinned. I placed the case with the spare radio in the back of the van before setting its unwrapped brother in the front seat.

With that task done, I joined the “troops” in taking orders from Debra. I had been with her long enough to know she was in her element: chaos. One of her greatest assets was her organizational ability. When she finished with the mess, it would be reconstructed into an evacuation as well organized as the local library.

First, I went back into the house to retrieve the bucket and rifle. When I returned to the garage, Debra eyed the rifle with distaste. While she had always been pretty pacifistic, she’d never interfered with my martial arts training, even when I had opened a small school and taught classes every other weeknight. But she had never been big on firearms and refused to allow them in the house. I’d never pressed the matter as I had other options in the way of home defense.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Dad.” The reply brought the grief back to the surface. Debra noticed immediately and started to question me, but desisted when I shook my head. I couldn’t trust myself to talk about it yet, especially with the kids in the next room, and she knew me well enough to back off. She went back to the original subject.

“Is it loaded?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you carry it with you on the motorbike?”

“No sling for it. It’s going to have to go in the van.”

She paused a moment. “Put it by the passenger’s seat. And make sure the safety’s on.”

Then she turned away, going back into the house with Zachary. She knew the fireball in the sky heralded a momentous change in the world and was obviously willing to set aside old prejudices, but the coldness of her tone made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like the new rules at all.

I took Megan aside for a crash course in basic firearm safety, showing her how to release the safety, sight, fire, and reload the weapon.

“Megan, everything’s changed now. You have to understand that. If it comes down to your having to shoot someone with this, you won’t have time to think about it. You’ll have to remember everything I’ve taught you in class: put your feelings aside until later, concentrate on what has to be done, and do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She hesitated a moment. “But what if I’m too scared, Dad?”

It was completely unfair to force a sixteen-year-old girl into adulthood so abruptly, but at this point, it couldn’t be helped. “Okay, Megan, what if someone was holding a gun to your brother’s head? Could you shoot them to save his life?”

When she nodded, I continued, “What about your mother? Or me? Could you shoot someone who was trying to kill us?”

Another nod. “Listen, kiddo, you and I are the only ones in this family who have any kind of fighting skills. That means it’s up to us to protect your mother and Zachary if anything happens. It’s just like you learned in class. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. And there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to hurt anyone. I’m glad you don’t want to hurt anyone. But if there’s a situation where you have to, even if you have to kill someone to save Zach, or your mom, or me, then you have to put your hesitation aside. If you don’t, then one of us could get hurt, or even killed. Understand?”

Eyes downcast, she meekly responded, “Yes, sir.”

I pulled her to me and hugged her tightly. “I love you, kiddo, and I wish I could put into words how very proud of you I am. You’re smart, pretty.” I pushed her back to arm’s length, put a finger under her chin, and brought her eyes back up to meet mine. “And you could probably beat the crap out of anyone that looked at you crosswise. You’re the best student that I’ve ever had.”

“Like you gave me a choice?” She smiled and blinked away the moisture that threatened her mascara. “I’ll put the gun in the van.” With that, she walked away.

At this point, Debra, an aluminum baseball bat in hand, reentered the garage. I cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Maybe we’ll get time for some softball.” Her eyes dared me to make further comment.