Alvin found himself outside during the hot part of the day yet again, pushing that stroller he cobbled together after his wife jumped on yet another Facebook marketplace special. The aftermarket front wheel wobbled courtesy of the hand drilling Alvin did to make it fit on the axle, but a cotter pin ensured it wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, the baby didn’t care. She was happy with the bumps and the weaves that accompanied the daily walk.
This wasn’t the daily walk, only a diversion during lunch break. Texas summer sucked, but there was something invigorating about spending 45 minutes out in the near-triple digit heat after nearly an entire week spent in conditioned air. It didn’t take much of an excuse to get outside today. Wife had taken the 4 year old to an enrichment activity at a kids center a couple suburbs over, and the baby was being clingy.
Good enough for me, Alvin quipped internally, exhaling a small chuckle.
As he passed tract house after tract house, his mind wandered to his desires for the future for himself and his family. A small farm, maybe with a handful of livestock. Days on the tractor, tending to the crops. Evenings on the back deck dipping toes in the pool. His wife shared some of the desires. Get out of Dallas, find a slower pace of life, befriend likeminded people and form a true community. However, the details were going to be a fight, and Alvin cringed every time he thought about it.
What will our future together actually end up looking like, he wondered, absent-mindedly stepping into a crosswalk, will we be able to iron out all our differences?
The baby began babbling as a jolt from the curb woke her from her stupor. Differences or not, Alvin knew he wasn’t going to let that torpedo the family. He had seen enough mayhem wrought by broken families and it wasn’t an option for his kids.
They deserve better than that.
Alvin wiped his hand across his sweaty brow and unthinkingly swiped the hand across his shirt. When his hand came off wetter than before, a wave of embarrassment overtook him. Out of shape and sweaty, he chided himself for not having the discipline to even keep up the level of fitness required to avoid sweating through his shirt after five minutes of walking. His mind hurled invectives at his job, as if being a desk jockey precluded workouts. It didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let go of the convenient scapegoat.
Rounding a corner, Alvin pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and checked that the stroller hood was extended over the baby as they transitioned from the shade into a sunny area. A bright flash caught his attention a moment after his eyes had adjusted to the sun.
That was weird. What did I catch a glint from?
He swiveled his head around slowly, looking for a car mirror or yard sign that could’ve caused such a glare. As he was ready to give up, bright motion lit up his peripheral vision. In the southern sky, a large column of fire billowed upward, a furiously roiling jet of destruction. Rings of condensation formed almost lazily around the still blossoming mushroom, outlining the quickly advancing shockwave.
“… the fuck?”, Alvin whispered, almost mesmerized by the fantastical scene. Snapping out of his momentary shock, an instinctual panic set in. He whipped the stroller around and started running towards home.
No! Stop!
Alvin flung his head left and right looking for something… anything that could save him from the approaching death. No storm shelters were visible, no magical doors miraculously opened to another realm. This was happening and he was going to die.
The least bad option presented itself in one of those two story arches that were all too common in the architecture of the neighborhood. It made for an ugly house, but there was a lot of brickwork stacked up between Alvin and the flaming ball of destruction, and Alvin wasn’t in a position to be picky.
Wedging the stroller into a corner of the front patio, Alvin ducked his head under the canopy and clamped his hands over the ears of the oblivious baby, positioning his body over her in a way that he hoped would at least spare her life if he was destined to end here.
Would it be a small mercy to let her die now? his mind flitted, maybe it would be better to blink out in an instant than to suffer what’s to come.
The baby wriggled under the uncomfortable hands, fussing at the restraint. Without thinking, Alvin soothed her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. Lord, please tell me that it’s going to be okay.
Moments passed as if they were hours, the dread accumulating in Alvin’s chest.
Please don’t let it hurt too much. Please make it go quickly.
With a crash, the moment came. The tempest assailed from all directions, shattering glass, blasting everything with grit, and kicking off a cacophony of snaps, groans, and rumbles that signaled the dismantling of the neighborhood he had been mindlessly trekking through just a minute before. The roar was deafening as echo compounded on top of echo. The sound pierced his ears, but he suppressed the intense urge to remove his hands from the baby.
They were far enough away from the blast that the neighborhood wasn’t flattened, and the brickwork had done its job. The roof was gone, as was most of the south-facing wall of the house, and there was debris and dirt everywhere, but they were alive. Alvin’s legs stung where the sand embedded itself in his skin, but for just having weathered a nuclear explosion, he was in pretty good shape. The baby, despite screaming inconsolably at the affront to her senses, seemed unharmed by the ordeal. Alvin made a mental note to check her for injuries when time availed itself.
Lottie and Benet, his heart ached as his mind shifted to his wife and firstborn daughter, both likely dead. The tense weight of dread from moments before had instantly transformed into a burning pit of grief.
In a moment of greedy desperation, Alvin pulled out his phone and looked at the ongoing text conversation with Lottie.
What if?
Even though his hopes were confirmed, he physically shook in surprise when he saw the three bars of service indicating a working cell tower. How long would that last? Probably only seconds, if it was actually working in the first place. He punched out a quick message.
“Batesville. Don’t stop. Love you”
He shoved the phone into the cupholder of the stroller and turned towards home. He didn’t have time to worry about whether the message went through. The clock had started, and the roads would be so jammed as to be impassible within 15 minutes.
With a pathetic huff, he ambled down the road in his best attempt at a sprint, the dust in the air burning his lungs. The fully developed mushroom cloud towered over the area like an angry giant, and black columns of smoke dotted the landscape. Total destruction. He dodged around split timbers, likely rafters, and piles of twisted metal that vaguely resembled cars. Obstacles were scattered aimlessly, without pattern. Some trees were uprooted, some stripped of all leaves, some splintered and tossed through nearby homes.
It was too bad he didn’t have a go bag; he’d have to scramble to put the provisions together. Advancing wheezingly towards home, he peeked at the phone again. No service.
Nice, Trashy.
Kind of “The Road”-esc
What in the wide world of fuck?
*sports
sport fucking?
I’d watch that!
For the wide world of sport fucking, you’d want to consult with Tres.
The looser the waistband,
The deeper the quicksand.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qDgCmzh5ao
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMnjF1O4eH0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x67jtMPfdTw
Now you’re getting it. My goodness that song is funny.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtyGZuFLGn0
Dude.
*runs downstairs and starts to pack go-bag*
Nice work.
Sounds rather autobiographical until the bomb.
It’s one of those “what if” scenarios that was playing in my head as I was absent mindedly pushing the stroller the other day. I changed just enough to make it not about me, but it’s basically a transcription of what happened in my head.
I had a feeling it was something like that.
Doomporn! Nice.
The one kind of porn not available on Pornhub.
Are you sure?
https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph601f42243f70a
Funny – I started a dystopia story a couple decades ago and my hero was also an Alvin. I think I stole it from Clarke or Asimov.
I’ve been working through the basic framework of one, too. It’s definitely the season for it (isn’t it always?). Mine are just too dark and depressing though. I don’t want to compromise them but I also know that getting involved in devoting any more time to fleshing it out would be serious bad news for my mental health, especially as a lot of it is based on the very worst parts of human nature that I’ve encountered personally. I discipline myself to make sure it’s not just a rumination on personal grievances, but much of what I draw from is about very bad, and some very damaged people, and how they act when all incentives to resist their worst nature are removed. A lot of it I feel would make very powerful reading and I think glibs is an excellent sounding board for excerpts and unfinished pieces, based on what I’ve seen in response to the really good work by others. I just can’t do it right now. Enough about me.
Trshmnster this is really good stuff.
I would read that.
I totally would too. Too dark and depressing is more like trying to find a decent meal in London.
https://youtu.be/17lkdqoLt44
I didn’t see that one coming.
Doesn’t matter.
10/10
Agreed. I meant it as a compliment.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWRCnzCiFPE
https://youtu.be/0k4TNtUZnM4
Very 1980’s. I had some serious bad trips thinking that the same thing was about to happen.
Relevant
I feel oddly comforted by this. As if what’s going to happen in this story is better than what is actually happening right now. I remember the ’80s fears. They seem so far away. Bring the darkness. Bring the isolation. Ignorance brought this. Let’s have it. Lets have it all.
getting it down on “paper” was oddly comforting, too. I’ve been in hope for the best, prepare for the worst mode for so long, I’ve been getting some “it’s gonna come apart at the seams” blueballs. Having something actually happen, even just in a story, was a nice release of nervous tension.
Well you nailed it. Good job.
I remember the ’80s fears.
I was pretty young in the 80s, but I remember some of them.
I find current year way more ominous, TBH.
OT: Osaka acting like a shithead and ESPN covering for her.
I had just flipped over and missed something.
Abused her racquet twice in the tiebreak and then took a Tsitipas-like pee break.
But she has mental health issues so it’s OK.
Sports Barbie: “Tennis is hard!”
And of course, none of the commentators ever mention the role of the press/media in causing players’ mental issues.
Imagine winning your first major, having it ruined by Serena’s antics, and the media acting like you don’t matter as they defend Serena.
Ugh that was shameful.
I hate the way they are forced to play act for the media.
I don’t think I could handle that aspect well at all.
*shock of shocks*
Not that tennis hasn’t had its share of divas, but she’s particularly noxious.
But yeah, ESPN’s nauseating sycophancy for a certain cast of characters is always irritating.
I was too young to be worried about it. It was just something that was there, like volcanoes or earthquakes. Or rain. If it happens, it happens.
Why are they called catamarans* rather than bi-marans?
/deep questions with pistoffnick
*I’ve been watching Youtube sailing videos almost all day.
Just got back for prepping the boat for the weekend. We (and many others) delayed departing for Maui for 24 hours because the winds in the channels are way stiff today. They’ll drop tomorrow to around 20kt by morning. We are already rigged with a double reefed main and a storm jib.
We’ll spend the night on either Molokai or Lanai and reach Maui Sunday. On Monday we race back to Oahu. We’ll go along the north side of Molokai and watch the huge sea cliffs go by. This is an aerial view.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6-n1GGn_ds
For the night in the anchorage we’ll have buffalo steaks and hopefully freshly caught mahi-mahi or ahi.
Way Cool, good fortune! Have a blast!
/Tall Cans!
You are living my dream, dbleagle.
Loves me some Mahi-Mahi . . .
Because… I got nothing.
They were invented by George Catamaran?
From Wikipedia:
“The word “catamaran” is derived from the Tamil word, kattumaram (கட்டுமரம்), which means “logs bound together”. However, the original kattumaram did not refer to double-hulled boats at all, but to a type of single-hulled raft made of three to seven tree trunks lashed together. The term has evolved in English usage to refer solely to unrelated double-hulled boats.”
Super, Trashy, the Doomsday years we wondered about haven’t really left us or have they? I was always more fatalistic and didn’t worry then or now.
We always sort of want to believe that those in charge are smarter than we are (they aren’t) or not so foolhardy, but yet war after war, economic decisions that contradict the laws of economics and here we are. Could we be better off? Absolutely. Could we be worse off? Of course.
Muddling through life is all we can hope for. Thanks for the great story.
The Doomsday years have alway been there.
Muddling through life is all we can hope for.
Well, that and something better on the other side.
(Hope, not knowledge)
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
— Hebrews 11:1
This is not dress rehearsal…
Good episode 1 here Trashy. Somewhat timely for me too. I found out this morning at work that one of our VP’s passed away last night from a heart attack. He wasn’t at the same building as me but it cast a pall over the start to the holiday weekend. Got me thinking about how prepared my wife would be if it were to happen to me.
Do it! this needs writing down, great start Trashy!
Oooh! Fun. I need to buy some popcorn.
Ed Ross, 1901
U said self, you have worked hard and you need something nice. Got me a 20 year BenRiach scotch and a cigar. Enjoying a nice evening mellowed out
There will be no catastrophe to prep for, as my First will prevent it. It will change everything you know about reality and bring about a golden age for all mankind.
Yeah, whatever.
You would prevent me from sharing the First with the world. You are the enemy of the Great Firster, for whom I am just a vessel.
Wow. Outfuckingstanding.
Will be waiting anxiously for the next installment.
In somewhat related news, scenes from my new workplace.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sedan_Crater
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssLZ4bUTDYM
No water? Seems a wasted effort.
The Russians did fill a similar crater with water back in the day.
I think it might have been the source of Mountain Dew…
13 million exposed to radiation? Thank you sir, may I have another?
Howdy Glibbies, what’s shakin’? I’m trying to pull my back together for my adventure, I have a 5 hour window before the rains come, after that it’s wet time. As long as I beat the thunder, it should be all good, with a bit of good fortune
Lily is being oddly mellow and accepting of affection. Plus she’s started ripping cloth into strips. I hope she’s not coming into season. The fixing is scheduled for five days from now.
Plus she’s started ripping cloth into strips.
Perfect for training the orphans in your sweatshop.
It’s a great start.
Oddly, i was thinking about nuclear war as well. Only good thing was that at least i would live 10 more minuets than the fuckers who thought they were smarter than us.
Good Morning.
Meh. If a bomb went off here it would probably be symbolic. NYC or DC because that is what our enemies think America is. Everyone else here would shrug.
Just lob a few EMPs over the continent, and watch us all die due to lack of an electrical grid,
/Well most of us….
I’m within close enough distance to Philly that I don’t have high hopes for such an event.
I’d prefer The Walking Dead over a Fallout apocalypse.
suh’ fam
yo whats goody yo
The sun just peeked out from behind the trees off to my left – either our next door neighbor’s trees or the folks diagonally behind us. It’s not so cool that I need my Maumee Bay hoodie, but I’m prepared! I think I have enough iced mocha latte (light!) for the long weekend.
Going up to the Fort Rowdy Gathering in Covington later to see our cancer-fighting friend play solo, then with her Irish band. Our next-to-last Dragons game of the season is tonight.
So that’s what suh’ and/or goody.
Still got water, electricity, gas, and food. Oh, and some ammo too. That’s good, I’d say.
Bacon ☑
Bourbon ☑
https://nypost.com/2021/09/03/finalists-for-the-2021-comedy-wildlife-photography-awards/
Also at the Post:
https://nypost.com/2021/09/03/biden-voter-rejecting-florida-diner-closed-due-to-popularity/
LOL. when I saw the URL I thought it was the Bee. Oh, they ran out of food.
Dont let the terrorists win !
Canadian news of the day: Campaign event for Jagmeet Singh delayed because of broken down poutine truck
Wow. Flashback to the days of civil defense drills in the late ’50s/early ’60s. I grew up nextt door to a fallout shelter in upper Manhattan. Even as first graders we knew the drills were bullshit; we had seen footage of Tsar Bomba and we’re living in ground zero. Thanks for the memories, Trashy.