Nine Minutes Read online

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  Our apartment wasn’t much. It was small. The building manager told me the main area was called an open floor plan. It looked to me like one large room where they created a kitchen by building one of those half walls with a counter on it to divide the area. Behind the kitchen was a short hall that led to the two bedrooms and a bathroom where the tub touched the toilet. Macy’s room was a glorified walk in closet, but she liked it and it didn’t take much to convince her to go to her room.

  I needed her out of the way so I could immerse myself with the news. I made her a quick mac and cheese, gave her my phone and let her play.

  Of course, she griped because the internet was slow.

  I sat close to the television, volume down, close captions on. Did I think my daughter could handle the news? Absolutely she could. I just couldn’t handle explaining anything until I had all the facts.

  Sadly, facts were hard to come by.

  I flipped station to station, and they all said the same thing.

  The six countries hit were all the usual war suspects. US, UK, Russia, China, India and even North Korea

  It didn’t make sense, who was doing the bombing? Obviously, it was a country not hit. But which country really had those capabilities?

  There were seventeen cities in all. In the United States, Houston, Chicago, Los Angeles and New York. They reported three weapons went off in New York alone, as if one wasn’t enough. Moscow was hit with four.

  Since the blanket of strikes, nothing else had occurred. I supposed it was a good sign.

  Still, there were no true answers or images, although they kept announcing they’d have satellite or drone footage shortly.

  Did I really want to see it?

  I was engrossed in listening to experts rehash the same thing on different networks, just phrased differently. I kept flipping channels, as if I would luck out and catch the big information by chance.

  I was so into listening that the knock on my door made me jump in my seat. Eyes still on the television, ears tuned in to what they were saying, I walked to the door and peered out the peephole.

  It was the new guy, the one I bumped into.

  I opened the door.

  “Hey,” he said.

  It was the first time I ever really looked at him. I had seen him here and there. He was maybe late thirties or forty, average height, so I didn’t have to look up to him. Which was a good thing, he seemed intimidating. His brown hair needed combed and he had a face that looked like he never smiled.

  Surely, he was there to lambaste me for breaking something in one of his boxes.

  “Hey,” I replied, then shifted my listening focus back to the television.

  “I’m the guy moving into 2C.”

  “Oh, yeah, I know, listen about …”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “I was just seeing if you were okay,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, just a brush burn on my hand.” I held it up. “Fine.”

  “No, I mean, about all that’s going on with …”

  He said something further, but I didn’t listen because all I heard was the announcement that the president was about to speak.

  “Shit. I have to go,” I said hurriedly. “Thanks for asking. The president’s on.”

  I shut the door, not thinking anymore about my interaction with 2C and raced to the couch.

  I don’t know what I was expecting to hear.

  He started his speech about the horrendous acts of the day, how devastating they were for the country and the world, and it would take a lot of fortitude to get through it.

  He assured the American public that we were not in a state of war and there wasn’t a global confrontation. I wasn’t comforted by that, I barely believed that, after all, seventeen cities across the world had been flattened.

  In the two minutes and forty-three seconds he was on the air, the president urged calm, pleaded for people not to panic shop, said he was confident it was over and would return when he had concrete information to give.

  That was it.

  No indication of why it happened or who was behind it.

  It was a ‘wait and see’ situation, and I had to resolve myself that I would have to do just that. Wait by the television and see.

  FIVE - RANSOM

  The news had to wait. I turned it off when Macy grew tired of staying in her room. She played video games for a while after we had a sandwich for our meal.

  She asked me what was wrong, what was going on.

  I was honest that I didn’t have answers and that there was maybe something very bad happening.

  I asked her to trust me and that I would do anything to keep her safe.

  While the powers that be contemplated what they would tell the public, I didn’t sit idly.

  I tried calling what little bit of family I had. My cousin in Denver, uncle in Toledo, anyone I could think of. All of them told me to be calm.

  I listened to the experts on what to pack in something called a bug out bag. I broke out a notepad and took notes. I had my backpack and a small duffle bag, and I loaded not only with what I had, but conceivably could carry.

  The news and expert guests reiterated over and over that the threat was over. While it was beyond tragic what happened, we wouldn’t see anymore.

  The world had been brought to a standstill, but it wasn’t the apocalypse.

  That’s what they said.

  After I got Macy to bed, I looked for places to go. Where would we be safe? I needed a destination.

  My first thought was to go south to West Virginia. The hills and woods would be a safe haven. I located a KOA campsite deep in the state and only a two and a half hour drive from my home.

  Obviously, I wasn’t the only person thinking about getting out of the cities. My ten PM phone call was actually answered, and I was told they had been selling spots left and right, they had nothing.

  I pleaded with the man and eventually he told me to come on down, he had a pup tent and a small spot he could let me have.

  I wasn’t sure what that was, but if I was away from populated areas, I was safe.

  I would leave the next morning.

  Others were taking it as serious as I was. At least more serious than the news. Maybe they were trying to quell panic. Common sense told me seventeen cities hit by nuclear weapons wasn’t the end of the events, it had to be the beginning.

  And I was right.

  Just after midnight, after I finished putting the last of the items in my bag and felt good about my plan, they broke the news to the public on what was happening.

  The Director of Homeland security along with the Secretary of Defense held a late night news conference. They stated the facts without emotions, telling us they waited to release the information so they could answer any and all possible questions.

  “Confidence is high,” the Homeland Director said. “Nothing further will occur, rest assured, we have an alternate plan. Details of that will be released in the morning.”

  Then the Secretary of Defense returned to the podium to talk more and answer questions.

  It wasn’t a global confrontation. One country didn’t declare war on another. It was a mastermind terrorist plot that was at least ten years in the making.

  An impenetrable computer virus had invaded the defense system of every technological country with nuclear capabilities.

  “It disguised itself as a working system,” The secretary explained. “Until we realized what had happened, then it was too late.”

  A reporter asked, “Why did we not see them coming?”

  “It disguised itself as a working system,” the Secretary repeated. “Nothing appeared on our radar until the bombs reached their destination. At that point, the virus locked us out.”

  “What do you mean locked you out?”

  “We can’t access the system at this time to shut it down or launch an interception. Our SLBM launch systems are not affected. Unfortunate
ly, there aren’t enough of those to have an effective interception rate should the threat be carried out.”

  The threat.

  The threat wasn’t the initial seventeen, they were a warning.

  This massive conglomerate, or a terror organization, had given their demands.

  They not only wanted exuberant amounts of money and resources, they wanted land, territories, leadership, recognition and power.

  If they did not receive confirmation that their demands would be met, the remaining global nuclear arsenal would be released.

  We had forty-eight hours.

  They urged people to remain calm, that the best minds in the world were working on cracking the virus and they were certain they would.

  I felt vulnerable and scared. I cried for a good hour and just wanted to grab Macy, get in my car and run for the hills. However, as I watched the news unfold, people took to the streets in chaos, rioting and looting.

  Grabbing what they could. Fighting others as if they were the villains when we should have been helping each other.

  Drone footage was released of the cities that were hit, the images of the burnt and ruined cities seared into my soul. I wished I hadn’t looked.

  The streets were chaotic while the panel of four experts on the news were composed, yet honest.

  “There’s nowhere to go, really,” said Panel One member said. “Stay in the cities and die fast or leave and die slowly. The outcome is the same.”

  “I think they’ll crack it,” Panel Two said.

  “There should be a plan B,” added Panel Member Three. “Find another way just in case.”

  “They are,” replied Panel Four. “They just haven’t told us yet.”

  “I’m not talking about the people and a survival plan,” said Panel Three. “I’m talking about an alternative solution to the virus.”

  Panel One laughed. “Like what?”

  “Manually dismantle the bombs,” Panel Three said. “If they haven’t already started.”

  Panel Four chuckled. “That’s three thousand warheads.”

  “Start now,” said Panel Three. “They win either way. They don’t give a damn about the destruction, they'd die for their cause. So … If we don’t crack the virus, don’t dismantle, there is only one other alternative.”

  “And that is?” asked Panel One.

  “Give them what they want.”

  We were at an impasse. Listening to the so-called experts, the politicians, didn’t enlighten me or encourage me.

  All I knew was, we had two days.

  In two days we’d find out our fate.

  SIX – CONTEMPLATION

  Sleep wasn’t easy. Especially once I realized that the forty-eight hour warning started when the first wave of bombs landed. It took my body going into shut down mode, and I went from counting down the minutes until the emergency plan was announced to waking up to the sound of ambulances.

  Instantly I shot into panic mode again. I jumped up, sirens blaring, on top of the steady sound of helicopters.

  Not wanting to scare Macy, I washed up, had some coffee and calmed myself. I had to be calm. The bombs had not come yet, and if we were a designated hit site, which I believed we were, I still had thirty-two hours. Thirty-two hours to get far away from the city and out of range.

  Every map they showed on the news as potential fallout areas, had West Virginia as one of the least.

  My choice was a wise one.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of mayhem I would run into on the road. I guessed it would be bad. A lot of people would leave.

  At least I knew I had plenty of gas. I had used up my fuel perks a couple days before, the discount on gas earned from grocery shopping. I’d make it to west Virginia and farther if needed.

  After I had my coffee and my wits restored, I thought it would be best to take our things down to my car. I had them ready by the door.

  As I was about to, the sound of another chopper flying overhead startled me.

  What was going on?

  The sirens were continuous.

  “Mommy?” Macy called my name. She stood in the small hall, all sleepy eyed. “What’s all the noise?”

  “I don’t know baby.”

  “Did you watch the news?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going to watch the news anymore. It didn’t matter what the government had planned, I was leaving and could listen in the car. “No, we’re gonna go.”

  “To school?’

  “No, we’re ...” I forced a smile. “Camping. We’re going camping.”

  “What do we know about camping?”

  “Absolutely nothing, but hey ...” I walked to her and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s not too late to learn.”

  She giggled and smiled.

  “Hey, why don’t you get dressed.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m gonna take our stuff down to the car.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Do I need to wear anything special for camping?”

  “Just jeans.”

  “Then will you tell me what’s going on?” She asked.

  “I will in the car. I promise.”

  “It’s bad, mom, isn’t it?”

  “It could be, sweetie, it could be.”

  I waited until she turned and walked down the hall. She paused when the sirens blasted loudly, as if right by our house.

  Grabbing the bags, I opened the door.

  I didn’t hear any voices in the halls or stairs. As I carried my things, I kept thinking about how silly I probably looked. Like one of those families in the movies that pack up their station wagon and hurriedly leave town as if the apocalypse was better elsewhere.

  It had to be, right? The safe scenario had to be anywhere there wasn’t any cities or military bases.

  Weighted down with the two backpacks and duffel bag, I made my way outside. I didn’t know what to expect. With the blaring sounds of sirens and loud helicopter noises, I expected outside to be a war zone. Something big had happened, a riot, fire, something. Whatever was causing the noise was just a reinforcement that I needed to get out of the city as soon as possible.

  My street seemed quiet, it was early morning, but that was briefly. As soon as I stepped to the sidewalk, a car zoomed in reverse down my street. Just as he passed me, he stopped, screeching tires, he spun in a turnaround, ramming his back end into a parked car. After the impact he peeled down the road.

  Thinking it was a sign of the insanity, I went to my car. It was close to the door of my building. I unlocked the doors and reached for the back handle.

  “If you’re trying to get out and leave the city, don’t bother,” he said

  I turned to my left to see 2C approaching. He carried a large backpack as he walked toward me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I said, if you’re trying to get out of the city. If you’re trying to leave. Don’t bother. I just tried.”

  “You just moved to the area,” I said. “Maybe you don’t know all the ways. I lived here a while. I know all the ways out.”

  “It’s useless. You won’t get far.”

  I shook my head and opened the car door. After tossing in the bags, I shut the door. “I’m going to try.”

  “Okay. Your choice. You’ll fail,” he said.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because there is a ban on all civilian vehicles on the road.”

  “What did he just say?” A male voice asked from behind me.

  I looked over to my right, the man in apartment 1B stood there.

  “I was telling her there is a civilian vehicle ban,” 2C repeated. “It’s in effect until midnight. I didn’t know this until, well, I went out.”

  “What does that mean?” 1B asked. I had seen 1B around the building a lot. Never really gotten too much into a conversation with him. He was older, probably retired, and was always carrying a grocery bag. He’d smile at me with a nod, but that was about it for our interaction.


  With a hint of sarcasm, I answered, “I believe it means that no civilian vehicles are allowed on the road.”

  1B laughed. “How do they enforce that?”

  “Tell you to turn around,” 2C replied.

  “They can’t have every road blocked,” I said. “No way. There has to be a way around, I know there is.”

  2C lifted his hands. “That’s what I thought. If you don’t believe me. Go look. We’re literally a half a block from craziness.”

  It probably wasn’t the best parenting move, considering my daughter was up in the apartment alone and asleep, but I had to see. Arms folded, I walked down to the corner to where she caught her bus.

  It was an intersection, to my right, I saw traffic, and when I looked to my left where I could catch a glimpse of the main drag, I saw what 2C was talking about.

  Police lights flashed, traffic was crammed at the intersection, even if they could be on the street, moving was impossible.

  “Stop!” I heard a male voice call out. “Why are you doing this?”

  A young man was slightly resisting arrest. They had him handcuffed from behind, pulling him.

  “Why are you taking me?” he asked in an angry plea. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. Stop. Please. Let me go.”

  Both officers pulled him toward the massive amount of traffic, probably to one of the squad cars.

  I saw enough, turned and went back.

  “Well?” 2C asked.

  “Okay, it’s crazy.”

  “I tried,” 2C said. “I pulled up a map of the area and everything. Went side streets. They still got me. They warn you to turn around. If you don’t, they disable your vehicle.”

  “They won’t disable the vehicle,” I scoffed.

  “Yeah, they do. I know,” 2C said. “They disabled mine.”

  “For real?” I asked shocked. “How?”

  “Shot my tires.”

  “Until midnight, you say?” 1B asked. “Did they say why?’

  2C shook his head. “No, but I looked on my phone. They are evacuating all hospitals and care facilities first.”

  That made sense with all the helicopters and sirens. We lived a few blocks from three different hospitals.