An attack warning signal will be heard. An attack warning signal means that an actual attack against the United States has been detected—and protective action is necessary. An enemy attack on the United States is possible in these rising global tensions. In the event of an attack you will receive a warning. To be prepared, know there are Alert Signals: a 3 to 5 minute steady blast of sirens. In the event of a real attack, there is an Attack Warning Signaclass="underline" a 3 to 5 minute wavering sound on sirens. Please familiarize yourself with the distinction of each.
In the event of an attack on the United States, if you live in a target area, it is best to be prepared to evacuate to a safer location. In the event of an attack, locations in your area have been designated as safe places to go. These locations have been marked with a sign—black-and-yellow with three upside down triangles with the words fallout shelter clearly visible. Please locate and be familiar with the nearest shelter. You will live in the shelter for fourteen days. There are things you can do in order to survive. Make sure that all windows are blocked in the room. Possible items of use: bricks, concrete, building blocks, sand, books, dirt; furniture can also be used in an emergency. Sanitation arrangements need to be made because there will be no water or toilets. See your local FEMA office for more instructions.
A list of suggested items to have in your shelter:
The temperature of the heat and blast will be hotter than the sun. It will destroy surroundings up to many miles from ground zero. To protect your shelter from the heat blast, it is recommended that you paint your interior walls with antiflash white. It is the brightest white paint color. It will reflect thermal radiation. Contact your local FEMA office for more information.
Fallout is dust that is sucked up from the explosion. The radiation from the dust is dangerous. Exposure can lead to sickness and/or death. Contact your local FEMA office for more information.
During a nuclear explosion, an electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, will occur. In the event of one, most electronic equipment will be ineffective. An EMP will cripple infrastructure and make it nearly impossible to retaliate against a possible attack. Contact your local FEMA office for more information.
The main goal is to survive a nuclear attack. Please follow your local authorities’ instructions.
Chapter Eleven
By five o’clock, Jennings’s Hardware was officially out of white paint. God help you if you painted your house any color other than white.
“Did you at least save any for us?” Mom asked.
“Of course. But we don’t really need it. There’s not going to be a nuclear war,” Dennis said.
“But what if there is?” I asked.
“We’ll just do what the government tells us.”
Right. Of course, the government wouldn’t lie to us. That only happened in books like 1984.
“Seriously, what if it does happen?” I asked again.
“We’ll survive,” he said.
Adult reassurances ranked even higher on the bullshit-o-meter than those of the US government.
“Why don’t we just paint ourselves white?” Mom asked. “To deflect the blast, do you think?”
“Government wants us racist even in death,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Harharhar,” Dennis said dryly. But then he started laughing for real.
“So, Dennis, who’s going to paint these interior walls?” I asked cautiously, knowing full well that Terrence and I would be stuck with the rest of the town anti-flashing the inside of our homes so white we’d need to wear sunglasses just to sit in our living rooms.
“Oh, you know who,” Dennis said with a wink.
Terrence was still at his mom’s and would be until Monday. So it was just Dennis, Mom, and me for the night, making brownies for the Welcome to Griffin Flat party. Nothing says “southern hospitality” like hundreds of calories. Dennis and I were taking turns licking the bowls. That was, until I got a call from Max telling me to get to his land, or the Woods. (Everyone in town called that area on Crow Mountain the Woods. Max, though, called it his land.) There had been an invasion.
Mom was against my going.
“No, today is family time,” she said, pouring brownie batter in an 8x8 glass pan.
“Family time? Terrence is with his mom. Can’t you just pretend I’m with Dad?”
Mom laughed. “When’s the last time you were with your dad?”
“Edna,” Dennis warned in a gentle voice.
Mom sighed. She opened the oven, put the brownies in, and set the timer for twenty minutes. And she sighed again, cracking eggs over the bowl to mix another batch of brownies. And she sighed again, wiping her hands on a rag. We were a family—Mom and I and Granny—we were a family that sighed when angry.
“Dad would let me go,” I said, unable to keep from poking the bear with a stick.
“Of course your dad would. He would want to be the good guy.”
“Dad is the good guy.”
She whirled to face me and opened her mouth, but Dennis touched her lower back before she could start talking. I had to hand it to the guy: he was like some sort of pacifist puppeteer when it came to my mother.
She could have taken my comment in many awful directions, all of which probably would have been true. But the immutable facts remained: she was the one who cheated. And she was the one who wanted the marriage to end. She was the one who filed divorce papers. She was the one who married Dennis not long after the papers were signed. She was the bad guy in my eyes. But I couldn’t say that. I would have been the bad guy for pointing it out.
“Terrence is probably at the party,” I pointed out, for all our sakes. “His mom probably let him go,” I added unfairly, licking the leftover batter in the mixing bowl with my finger.
“Don’t start—”
“Start what?” I feigned innocence and went for another dip.
That did the trick. “Go… go to your party,” Mom grunted. She stomped over to her purse and dug for her keys. “Here,” she said, throwing them at me.