Post by Penny on Nov 8, 2011 19:46:53 GMT -5
Boom.
The sound and accompanying shake hardly fazed Max now. It was far enough off, not to mention against the wind, that it wouldn’t affect them much more than it already had. They were lucky this time, lucky that nobody aimed directly for this small town in the Saskatchewan providence. Lucky nobody knew about it at all practically, other than the people who came from it, or the people somewhat close by.
It was summer, though one could hardly tell. The warmth usually accompanying August had long since been replaced with the frost and freezes of January. Temperatures dropped, snow fell. Some people died due to being unprepared for the extremities of winter, others died due to dehydration, having no time and sometimes no way of melting the snow or thawing out the frozen tubs of water in their homes. But mostly, people died due to The Illness.
The Illness was radiation poison, as Max knew. But among the people of Zealandia, SK, radiation was a dirty word. It was a scary word, serving only to frighten people to death for no good reason. As his parents had told him, why should people be scared about something inevitable that would happen to them all? And that was what was going to happen, right? Better to worry about surviving long enough to die that way than worrying about all the nasty effects of it. Better to die of a simple illness than die of third-degree burns at Ground Zero. And so that’s what they called what they didn’t want to believe existed- The Illness.
Max knew The Illness, and he knew it well. Some of his and his sister Mindy’s friends had died of it. 12 people they knew so far, and that was just in a few months. But now Father was ill, and he was getting worse each day. For a while, he’d seemed fine- he was just a little nauseous, and that went away. But now, it was so much worse- that had come back, yes, along with worse things. He was growing more and more worried- and so now he had to do something.
Dr. Rosenberg at the town clinic was a very busy man, but he always made time for the Powers family. He was an old friend, having been close with Max’s grandfather and namesake in the Old War. Dr. Rosenberg had treated Max and Mindy both when they unexpectedly came down with Shingles a few years ago, and he’d done the same with his father and his auntie Vera when they were kids. Max knew the way to his clinic- just follow the old dirt road leading all around and he’d be right there in just a minute or two… but perhaps longer now, with Father.
Max had a duty. As the only able-bodied man in the house now, his big brother David off somewhere in Asia, he had to help save his father. He got them both in warm clothes, gave his mother and sister a hug goodbye, and went to the shed. With very little effort, he dragged a wheelbarrow out from its dark corner and over to the door. Then, with considerably more effort, he went back inside.
Father was sitting on the couch, resting. A well-lived man of 45, his father was 6’3 and about 200 pounds. Until lately, Max could never remember a time when he and his family had to struggle, and his father’s appearance was a testiment to that. Now that the war had gone into full swing, and food and drink were so scarce, his father had began to dwindle. In the past few months he’d lost about 50 pounds already.
Max walked over to his father, and sat down beside him for a second, his feet still solidly planted to the floor. He wrapped his arm underneath both of his father’s, draping one over his shoulders. Using the knees like he’d been taught years ago, he heaved his father to his feet, and began to stagger to the door. Mindy and his mother came downstairs to watch, and he was pretty sure that as his father thudded into the wheelbarrow his mother cringed. However, seeing he was okay, both girls seemed relieved. Max sidestepped out of the house, smiled, and closed the door before getting to the real work. Without really pausing to catch his breath (that could end up being fatal, with the cold out here- if he stopped for too long, it would be possible for his father to die right there), Max lifted up the wheelbarrow and treaded on through the snow. He made sure to go as fast as he could, without going too fast- if he went too fast, he’d probably drop his dad out of the wheelbarrow.
Luckily for both of them, at least, they made it to the clinic with no complications. Dr. Rosenberg came out the moment he saw them come up, and helped Max drag his father out of the wheelbarrow and inside. A place was cleared for them.
“Hello, James,” Dr. Rosenberg spoke directly to the elder of the two.
“Hello, Dr. Rosenberg,” Father let out these words breathlessly.
“When did the symptoms start?” This question was tossed at both of them.
“They started getting really bad a few days ago,” Max told him quickly, noticing his father drift off on the cot. “He’s gotten real weak, Dr. Rosenberg, which is why he didn’t walk out over here himself. And he’d fallen around that time too- he couldn’t stand without falling and complaining that the room was spinning when it wasn’t…”
“I see…” Dr. Rosenberg seemed to be thinking quite a bit. “About how long ago did he start getting the nausea?”
Though Max hadn’t said anything about that, he knew this was coming. “About a week ago, Sir.” He paused. “Sir… will he live?”
Dr. Rosenberg gave a sigh.
“If the symptoms are setting in this fast, Max… I’m afraid not. Judging the rate it’s coming in, he’s probably gotten six to eight Gys... and past six there’s really nothing we can do except wait.”
Max said nothing, instead giving a stiff nod. Dr. Rosenberg sat beside him.
“Lad, I’d suggest going home with him. Let him relax at home for the next few days, because that’s probably all he’ll have left. Talk to him, let him die happy… but don’t hope for the best. Divide up his rations between yourself and the two ladies in the house. And Max… prepare yourself and them for his death. I know it sounds ha-“
“Sir,” Max cut in, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but you don’t need to tell us to prepare. My sister and I… we’ve lost a few good friends to all this. We know how it is. And Mom’s a strong lady, she’ll pull through it all okay.”
“What a hellish world we live in,” Dr. Rosenberg lamented after a few moments of silence, “Where kids of fourteen and sixteen are so well-acquainted with death… Very well. Good luck, Max, and be careful out there. You’re reading all the pamphlets, right?”
“Yes Sir, and listening to the radio. I think by now I can tell what they’re saying most of the time… I can understand their lingo.”
“Me too… I wonder, however, when the next shipment of letters will come in. Sarah and I have not heard from Eric or Spencer for weeks.”
“We haven’t heard from David, either.” Max stood up then. “I hope we’ll get some form of contact from them soon, Sir. But for now… I need to go home. Mindy and Mom need to know.”
“Yes… go home and tell them, Max. And rest up tonight, because after tonight… you’re going to be the man of the house.”
Max nodded. As he left with his father back in the wheel barrow, he murmered to himself, “I already am.”
He came back to the door, and opened the door. It didn’t take long for his mother and sister, sitting on the couch and waiting, to know from his expression the exact extent of the damage. He watched his mother’s breath catch, and his sister stare. He turned away, back to his father, and his sister took their mother upstairs. For a split second he cursed his mother for being upset, for showing that while he was staring right at her, with his sister. But quickly he bit back on his thoughts, and realized that she was only human. She would show her emotions because she was human, because she was honest and real- and for a few more seconds he felt ashamed at himself for not being like that, for being silent and putting up a wall to keep himself composed. But once again, he realized that he was only human.
They all were only human.
The sound and accompanying shake hardly fazed Max now. It was far enough off, not to mention against the wind, that it wouldn’t affect them much more than it already had. They were lucky this time, lucky that nobody aimed directly for this small town in the Saskatchewan providence. Lucky nobody knew about it at all practically, other than the people who came from it, or the people somewhat close by.
It was summer, though one could hardly tell. The warmth usually accompanying August had long since been replaced with the frost and freezes of January. Temperatures dropped, snow fell. Some people died due to being unprepared for the extremities of winter, others died due to dehydration, having no time and sometimes no way of melting the snow or thawing out the frozen tubs of water in their homes. But mostly, people died due to The Illness.
The Illness was radiation poison, as Max knew. But among the people of Zealandia, SK, radiation was a dirty word. It was a scary word, serving only to frighten people to death for no good reason. As his parents had told him, why should people be scared about something inevitable that would happen to them all? And that was what was going to happen, right? Better to worry about surviving long enough to die that way than worrying about all the nasty effects of it. Better to die of a simple illness than die of third-degree burns at Ground Zero. And so that’s what they called what they didn’t want to believe existed- The Illness.
Max knew The Illness, and he knew it well. Some of his and his sister Mindy’s friends had died of it. 12 people they knew so far, and that was just in a few months. But now Father was ill, and he was getting worse each day. For a while, he’d seemed fine- he was just a little nauseous, and that went away. But now, it was so much worse- that had come back, yes, along with worse things. He was growing more and more worried- and so now he had to do something.
Dr. Rosenberg at the town clinic was a very busy man, but he always made time for the Powers family. He was an old friend, having been close with Max’s grandfather and namesake in the Old War. Dr. Rosenberg had treated Max and Mindy both when they unexpectedly came down with Shingles a few years ago, and he’d done the same with his father and his auntie Vera when they were kids. Max knew the way to his clinic- just follow the old dirt road leading all around and he’d be right there in just a minute or two… but perhaps longer now, with Father.
Max had a duty. As the only able-bodied man in the house now, his big brother David off somewhere in Asia, he had to help save his father. He got them both in warm clothes, gave his mother and sister a hug goodbye, and went to the shed. With very little effort, he dragged a wheelbarrow out from its dark corner and over to the door. Then, with considerably more effort, he went back inside.
Father was sitting on the couch, resting. A well-lived man of 45, his father was 6’3 and about 200 pounds. Until lately, Max could never remember a time when he and his family had to struggle, and his father’s appearance was a testiment to that. Now that the war had gone into full swing, and food and drink were so scarce, his father had began to dwindle. In the past few months he’d lost about 50 pounds already.
Max walked over to his father, and sat down beside him for a second, his feet still solidly planted to the floor. He wrapped his arm underneath both of his father’s, draping one over his shoulders. Using the knees like he’d been taught years ago, he heaved his father to his feet, and began to stagger to the door. Mindy and his mother came downstairs to watch, and he was pretty sure that as his father thudded into the wheelbarrow his mother cringed. However, seeing he was okay, both girls seemed relieved. Max sidestepped out of the house, smiled, and closed the door before getting to the real work. Without really pausing to catch his breath (that could end up being fatal, with the cold out here- if he stopped for too long, it would be possible for his father to die right there), Max lifted up the wheelbarrow and treaded on through the snow. He made sure to go as fast as he could, without going too fast- if he went too fast, he’d probably drop his dad out of the wheelbarrow.
Luckily for both of them, at least, they made it to the clinic with no complications. Dr. Rosenberg came out the moment he saw them come up, and helped Max drag his father out of the wheelbarrow and inside. A place was cleared for them.
“Hello, James,” Dr. Rosenberg spoke directly to the elder of the two.
“Hello, Dr. Rosenberg,” Father let out these words breathlessly.
“When did the symptoms start?” This question was tossed at both of them.
“They started getting really bad a few days ago,” Max told him quickly, noticing his father drift off on the cot. “He’s gotten real weak, Dr. Rosenberg, which is why he didn’t walk out over here himself. And he’d fallen around that time too- he couldn’t stand without falling and complaining that the room was spinning when it wasn’t…”
“I see…” Dr. Rosenberg seemed to be thinking quite a bit. “About how long ago did he start getting the nausea?”
Though Max hadn’t said anything about that, he knew this was coming. “About a week ago, Sir.” He paused. “Sir… will he live?”
Dr. Rosenberg gave a sigh.
“If the symptoms are setting in this fast, Max… I’m afraid not. Judging the rate it’s coming in, he’s probably gotten six to eight Gys... and past six there’s really nothing we can do except wait.”
Max said nothing, instead giving a stiff nod. Dr. Rosenberg sat beside him.
“Lad, I’d suggest going home with him. Let him relax at home for the next few days, because that’s probably all he’ll have left. Talk to him, let him die happy… but don’t hope for the best. Divide up his rations between yourself and the two ladies in the house. And Max… prepare yourself and them for his death. I know it sounds ha-“
“Sir,” Max cut in, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but you don’t need to tell us to prepare. My sister and I… we’ve lost a few good friends to all this. We know how it is. And Mom’s a strong lady, she’ll pull through it all okay.”
“What a hellish world we live in,” Dr. Rosenberg lamented after a few moments of silence, “Where kids of fourteen and sixteen are so well-acquainted with death… Very well. Good luck, Max, and be careful out there. You’re reading all the pamphlets, right?”
“Yes Sir, and listening to the radio. I think by now I can tell what they’re saying most of the time… I can understand their lingo.”
“Me too… I wonder, however, when the next shipment of letters will come in. Sarah and I have not heard from Eric or Spencer for weeks.”
“We haven’t heard from David, either.” Max stood up then. “I hope we’ll get some form of contact from them soon, Sir. But for now… I need to go home. Mindy and Mom need to know.”
“Yes… go home and tell them, Max. And rest up tonight, because after tonight… you’re going to be the man of the house.”
Max nodded. As he left with his father back in the wheel barrow, he murmered to himself, “I already am.”
He came back to the door, and opened the door. It didn’t take long for his mother and sister, sitting on the couch and waiting, to know from his expression the exact extent of the damage. He watched his mother’s breath catch, and his sister stare. He turned away, back to his father, and his sister took their mother upstairs. For a split second he cursed his mother for being upset, for showing that while he was staring right at her, with his sister. But quickly he bit back on his thoughts, and realized that she was only human. She would show her emotions because she was human, because she was honest and real- and for a few more seconds he felt ashamed at himself for not being like that, for being silent and putting up a wall to keep himself composed. But once again, he realized that he was only human.
They all were only human.
