Chain Reaction

Shell Shocked

"Wait, what do you mean, dad?"

He sighed, a gentle sigh. "You know what the systems here are like . He'll be dumped back on the streets again if we turn him in. Those group home ads you see in the news- they're hoaxes to get money into the nonexistent foster system."

"Isn't this illegal?"

He shrugged. It was a stupid question, I realized. People were getting away with murder on every block, every day, and I was asking if caring for a homeless 2 year old was illegal.

I looked down skeptically at the little boy playing with a matchbox car my dad had bought from a market vendor a week before. It was a cheap, crappy toy, I noticed. But the kid seemed happy with it. A rush of affection for my dad came over me as I remembered how he'd buy the most useless items just so the kids trying to get business would have some cash inflow. Comes in handy sometimes, I guess. 

"He definitely seems calmer than Rainbow Lillie."

My dad laughed. "Couldn't possibly be worse than that little screamer."

"Well, if he'll help me babysit her, maybe I'll let him stick around." I cracked, and squatted down next to the blonde toddler.  "How old are you?"

He looked up at me solemnly and held up two fingers. "Smarty pants!" I cried in delight, and the boy smiled a very small smile. "He looks like Alex did- blonde hair and blue eyes..."

Consciousness rushed back to me in a swirl of pain and flashing red lights. I pushed hair out of my face and it felt the same way rubbing my eyes after sleeping on the beach for too long used to feel. Sandy, gritty, and bleary. I was first aware of pressure on my leg, and I sat up to see the antique clock dad had bought from a garage sale was pinning it down. I rolled my eyes, still wondering why it had to be so huge and ugly. I squirmed out from underneath it and stood up, just a little wobbly. My second thought was for the babies.

"Rainbow Lillie? Charlie?" I called, growing concerned when I didn't hear the patter of small feet running towards me. The apartment was still in one piece. Granted, all the books were spilled off of the bookshelves, the chairs were topsy turvy, and the framed photos were upside down on the floor. But the ceiling wasn't smashed, and the walls were intact.  I couldn't breathe very well anymore, so I decided to risk ripping the gas mask off my face. I didn't collapse and die, and started to wonder if the whole thing had been a rumor.  I wandered into the next room and found my dad next to the door, still asleep on the floor.

"Get up, sleepyhead," I walked over to him and gently nudged his shoulder with my foot. He didn't move. My heart rate increased- he'd always been a light sleeper.  I squatted down and rolled him over. It wasn't too hard... ever since the rations diminished he'd been eating less and less of the family portion. His eyes were open and glassy. There was a really peaceful look on his face.

I noticed he wasn't wearing a mask. He'd told me he'd bought enough for all of us. He'd promised. I hoped with all my heart he was wrong and there had been no poison filling the air. Shaking his body, I yelled his name over and over. Of course I knew he was dead. Logically, that was the only possible explanation. It was like I couldn't control my emotional response that I had trained myself so hard to ignore. We'd known this might happen. I was lucky to be alive, I tried to convince myself.

The sound of soft baby crying from my bedroom brought me back to my senses with a sharp jolt. I couldn't let them see dad like this. I opened the door as quietly as I could and peeked out. 

"People get desperate in war zones, Candice," he'd told me. "It does something to them. They'll only be looking out for themselves. You've got to be careful."

The hallway was empty, but I gasped seeing how bad it was. We were definitely trapped. To my right was a pile of rubble up to the ceiling, and to my left was a few more doors then nothing but thin air. I noticed the cleaning lady slumped over her supplies cart, and could picture the song she always sung dying on her lips. Wind whistled past and wisps of debris were flying by. I could see the Walmart next door was bombed in, and felt too sick to look any farther. I closed the door and leaned my back against it, surveying the inside of my apartment. It really was all mine now. A feeling of helplessness and loneliness was almost too strong for me, then I remembered what dad told me about taking care of the babies.

"It's a good thing you'll have them, Candice. They'll be helping you just as much as you'll be caring for them. Maybe even more." He looked strangely joyful, as if he knew how everything would play out.

"Well I'll have you too, dad. Right?"

I pondered for a few minutes what to do, as Rainbow Lillie yelled for me. Finally I dragged my dad out of the room, struggling against the wind, and slowly, painstakingly buried him in the pile of rubble. Then I buried the cleaning lady. Francine Baptiste, her name tag read. My expression was set, I know, I couldn't allow myself the luxury of crying, I had to hurry and make sure Charlie was alright. Rainbow Lillie's healthy screaming convinced me of her safety. Before I went back inside, I walked to the edge of the hallway and leaned over, searching the street below for any sign of life. Cars were stopped in the middle of the road, I had a horrible feeling as I realized how many people were down there, and scurried back to the apartment as quickly as possible.  

Locking the door quickly behind me, I ran to the window and shut the blackout curtains. The glass was slightly cracked, but surprisingly in all in one piece. I didn't want the kids to look out and get scared. 

"What am I going to do?" I leaned against the counter, a bit of hysteria coming over me. Frantically I picked up the phone and dialed 911. Nothing but radio silence. I tried to flip the light switch, but the electricity was out. I opened the laundry closet and powered up the generator. I wanted some semblance of normal. The lights flickered on.

My bedroom was just as it was before. Completely bare walls, painted with the patterns I used to see in my dreams. The orange lamp attached to the wall was still there, my small white bed was still there, and the two cribs were still there. It was some comfort. Charlie sat with his small fists clutching the railings and his little legs sticking out between them, waiting patiently. He'd pulled off his mask by himself. His blue eyes followed me quizzically as I picked up chubby, tantrum-throwing Rainbow Lillie, threw out her tiny mask, and popped a lollipop in her mouth. It was a foolproof solution, one that I hardly ever used. Her mother was a nutritionist. I wondered how Rainbow Lillie got so fat. I could feel the hysteria coming over me again as I remembered her laughing off my dad's offer of the gas mask. She lived just across the hall, and I watched her kid most of the time. It was a morbid thought that she was dead now.  

"My mom's gone too," I told Rainbow Lillie. "We can look out for each other." I plopped her down on my bed and she sucked happily away, gurgling back at me. I know she didn't understand. "And Chuck- you'll take care of us, right?" I still wasn't sure if he knew every word I was saying or not. His tiny smile was enormously enigmatic. I reached down into his crib and picked him up. He laid his head down on my shoulder and his little hand rubbed my back. I cried then. But they didn't know. At least, Rainbow Lillie didn't. We sat on my bed for a long time. Charlie held my hand the whole time.