Lacey nodded. She reconciled herself to the fact they were better off inside the shelter than facing radioactive fallout. Then someone changed the topic of conversation.
“Hey, these doors open! There’s food and water in here!”
Chapter Four
Friday, October 25
Placer High School Fallout Shelter
Auburn, California
Inside the fallout shelter, a massive scrum was created in the center of the square-shaped space. Those who wanted to get their share of whatever was available behind the storage doors pushed and shoved their way to the back. Others, intent on being the first ones out of the dark, damp space, fought against the tidal wave of people toward the front door. Arguments teed off the melee, which soon turned into men muscling their way through, clearing a path for their loved ones in tow. A few punches were thrown, and several of the weaker refugees were knocked to the dusty concrete floor, only to get trampled by their fellow man.
The police officer incessantly blew into the whistle in an unsuccessful attempt to restore order. The coach shouted at those in the back of the shelter to leave the doors alone. It was, as he insisted, an unauthorized area.
To the panicked refugees, law and order had collapsed, and a survival-of-the-fittest mentality had set in. The doors were quickly rolled up, and those closest to the storage rooms rushed in first, including Tucker.
Despite his father demanding he stop, Tucker was determined to grab whatever he could see to help his family. Next to him was the man who’d turned on his flashlight moments ago. As he held off the crowd with his broad shoulders and his legs spread wide, he illuminated the shelves for him and Tucker to see.
There were stacked barrels of drinking water and cases of boxes labeled food. Each case indicated it was enough for seven shelter occupants together with five pounds per person. On wire shelving, smaller boxes caught Tucker’s eye. Medical kits, high-calorie MRE bars, and personal hygiene kits. Because they had plenty of food in the truck, Tucker grabbed these three items and wrapped his arms around the boxes to keep anyone from snatching them away.
He turned to join his parents and was met with a throng of people trying to force their way into the storage space. He lowered his head and bulled his way past as the high-pitched shrill whistle could be heard getting closer to him. The officer was now screaming threats ranging from using his pepper spray to arrest.
Nobody cared.
Soon, refugees were exiting the three storage spaces, clutching boxes of food and barrels of water. One person even carried a wooden chair high over his head that had once been used in the gymnasium. Another held two battery-operated Coleman lanterns in each hand, with a dusty box of batteries tucked under his arm.
“Hold these,” said Tucker as he handed his haul to his dad. “I’m going back for more.”
The officer shouted at the top of his lungs. “Back off, everybody! I said back the hell off!”
When more people pressed forward, he followed through with his threat. Alarmed, he pulled his SABRE law-enforcement-grade pepper spray and deployed a quick burst into the crowd in front of him.
This panicked the group, who quickly turned away. Now a stampede of people was forcing their way back toward the front as if an otherworldly being were teasing a dog with a cookie. As they crashed into one another, they began to lose their balance and fall. Some tried to assist their fellow refugees up. Others knocked those in the way to the ground and trampled over the fallen.
The whistle continued to blare. The officer continued to order the occupants of the shelter to stand down. The McDowells continued to stand in the corner, making every attempt to avoid physical or verbal contact with the crazed mob.
“Would everyone please calm down?” shouted the coach. “Stop where you are! Please!”
Perhaps it was his begging, or the simple fact that he asked nicely. But the crowd suddenly calmed itself. Following the crowd was a natural human tendency. Human nature lent itself to living and moving in groups. All at once, it seemed, the refugees seemed to work as one. Fortunately, it was to establish calm rather than turn their stay in the shelter into a deadly riot.
Coughing and sniffling could be heard by those directly affected by the pepper spray. Some removed their coats and waved them over their heads to cause the propellant to dissipate. Most everyone covered their nose and mouth with their shirts.
“Thank you,” the coach said calmly, in a slightly elevated tone so he could be heard. “If we all work together, we can decide what to do next, and also we can figure out a way to get comfortable.”
“Are you gonna open the door?”
“What about a bathroom?”
“Do you have anything for my children to eat?”
The coach raised his hands and spoke louder. “Those are all good questions, but let’s take one thing at a time. First, I wasn’t trained on how to operate this facility. I was simply the man with the key to the door. However, after what happened overseas, I studied up on what to do.”
“Shouldn’t we stay here?” asked a woman in front.
“Yes, ma’am. I believe we should. Of course, we don’t know what happened outside. However, I feel confident we didn’t take a direct hit here. That doesn’t mean we’re entirely in the clear. There could be more nukes, and then there’s the fallout.”
“The fallout can’t reach us in Auburn!” a man shouted from the center of the room.
“Sir, we don’t know that because we don’t know where the nuke was detonated. Plus, I learned there are a lot of factors, including winds, humidity, and the size of the warhead.”
“I heard we
