The explosion took out everything.
We did a walk-through. Nothing was there. We spent most of the time going, “That was there, and that was there, and that was there.” Even the Ferris wheel was now gone too. The shell of a minivan was left standing, though. It was Kitty’s and Raymond’s van. They made it back here. But where were they?
“Kitty? Raymond?” I yelled.
We searched all over, but there wasn’t a soul here. The director looked for a place to sit, but there was no place to sit except the ground. And no one wanted to sit on the ground.
I held the screwdriver out in front of me for protection.
“Is anyone here? Anyone at all?” Tyson yelled.
No one responded. It was strange. I thought I saw a cockroach as big as my head—but on further thinking about it, it probably was just a shadow—but anyway, I wasn’t paying attention, and I tripped on debris and almost face-planted.
I screamed and nearly fainted. Max grabbed a stick, and we all ran over to where they were.
Max pointed.
I screamed.
Freddy too.
The bus driver passed out.
Terrence and Tyson threw up.
Dylan filmed it all.
“Is that—a body?” I asked. “Was that a person?”
Max nudged it with a stick, and then he walked over to it. It was hard and made a hollow noise. A human being wouldn’t make that noise.
The director bent over and touched the crusted black thing with his hand. “I think it’s a mannequin.”
Everyone took a deep breath and laughed.
These explosions that Skeet built had done more damage than anyone thought.
We got back on the bus. I handed the screwdriver to the bus driver, and he started the engine. There was nothing left for us here. Freddy was crying. He lost all those video games and his console in the explosion. But I didn’t know who was more distraught, him or Terrence.
We went back to Sixth Street.
The director ran up to a few people who were out, trying to ask them what happened. Where Skeet was. Where the rest of his cast was at. But they just stared at him. Black eyes. Like all the life was sucked out. Or a gag order had been put in place.
“Ma’am,” the director called, “can you tell me if you’ve seen any of my crew?”
She looked up at him and burst into tears and ran down the sidewalk.
“Well, that can’t be good.”
Dylan was filming all of this.
“Wait!” the director yelled, and we stopped dead in our tracks. “How stupid are we? Filming has to be going on. We better get out of the shot.”
He moved across the street and we followed. Stood underneath an awning waiting to hear “cut.” But “cut” never came.
“It was supposed to be a long sequence,” the director said.
Dewayne’s store was just down the way. Next to Dane’s Ice Cream Shoppe. The windows were broken out and trashed. Comic books were torn, wet, or burned. I dug through the pile and found one that was in okay condition. I stuffed it in my bag.
Terrence came out from the café and passed out candy bars. One for each of us.
We ate and went searching for more. This time we found Cokes, which we drank with our second candy bar. And a pair of sunglasses for Owen. We waited for a while until Max said we could go to school, and according to the clock above the cash register, school was in session, but closer inspection revealed the clock had died at exactly 10:05. There had to be a logical explanation. We climbed onto the bus and went to school.
-
There would be no miracle. An atomic bomb had hit the city. A blast wave had crumbled buildings and buried its citizens. A dark mushroom cloud had spread over the sky. Much of the country had been devastated by massive atomic attacks. The small town of Pikesville had not escaped unharmed.
Chapter Forty
Being at school when we didn’t have to be at school was a new experience. Unique. And I could tell Terrence especially didn’t like it. But then we saw light—specifically candlelight coming from the chemistry classroom—that told us there had to be other people here too. As in alive and possibly able to tell us what the hell had happened while we were on the mountain.
Terrence and I went down the hall while the rest of them went searching for food in the cafeteria.
We found Rodney in a fetal position underneath the lab table where he and Max, just days before, had been doing science experiments. (Or Max had been, and Rodney had been on the verge of burning the school down with a spark from the Bunsen burner.) Rodney was shaking. He had a cut on his forehead, and both arms were bloody.
“Damn, man, what happened?” Terrence asked, kneeling down beside him.
Rodney shook his head.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, grabbing Terrence’s shoulder as I knelt beside him.
“Come on, man, you’re safe now,” Terrence said, trying to reassure him.
But all Rodney did was give one short laugh.
“Where’s everyone? Where’s Mr. Truitt?” I asked, grabbing his face with both hands.
He sat there, legs stretched out, hands on his knees, staring at me.
“Laura, did you die?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“Yeah, I died.”
“It’s just a movie,” he said, and then repeated, “It’s just a movie. It’s just a movie.”
“Come on, man,” Terrence said, slapping him across the face.
“What the hell, man,” Rodney screamed, rubbing his cheeks.
“Is everything okay?” Freddy asked, standing in the doorway with Owen, the director, and Dylan, who had tons of food in their arms.
“Let’s eat,” Owen said, his hand on Freddy’s coat.
Rodney joined us around two lab tables, surrounded by candlelight, eating bread and peanut butter, and drinking water out of a jug.
“Boy, are you in here? Bollocks, you all are alive,” Astrid screamed, her arms open, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair a mess, which the director pointed out. She gladly showed him the bird.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” the director asked.
“Ugh, the explosion kind of got out of hand,” she said, peering over our shoulders and seeing the food. “I’m so hungry. He went looking for food and I guess found all of you.”
“Here,” I said, spreading some peanut butter on a piece of bread, folding it in half, and handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, chewing with her mouth full. “So good.”
She sat between me and Max and told us a fantastic tale that had to be exaggerated, because it couldn’t be true.
“I’m going to set the scene: It was a sunny June day. We stood outside in our summer dresses on Main Street as Mayor Forte was telling us that we shouldn’t freak out when we hear sirens, that it’s only a test for a possible Red Warning,” she said.
“Are you giving us a synopsis of the script?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you giving us a synopsis of the novella?”
“No.”
“Are you—”
“Shhhhhh.”
I zipped my lips.
“There were a lot of people waiting for Skeet to do his thing, which he did, and it was, like, so awesome. The sirens blared, and he counted down to one, and then the strangest thing happened. I’ve experienced nothing like that in all my life. He started screaming ‘Oh shit’ over and over again and telling us to run. The sirens were blaring and things were exploding. The next thing I know, my arm is being grabbed, and some chap is pulling me toward the school.”
“Huh?” Max asked.
“Yeah, I found this chap Rodney, right? We went into the basement and through this huge door. There were cots and blankets and smelled—so much potpourri. There were shelves and shelves of canned food. Rodney went searching for a can opener. But there was water and a few cartons full of Cokes. There’re books and medical supplies.”