Epilogue
It’s been thirty years since half the state of Arkansas was nuked by an accidental intercontinental thermonuclear bomb detonation. It was a Broken Arrow accident. It was Hollywood’s fault.
Mad Max was right all along. Hollywood would do something idiotic and the government would cover it up.
It’s the sixtieth anniversary of the novella Eve of Destruction, and it’s the thirtieth anniversary of the movie that never quite was. Documentaries have been made and I’ve been interviewed many times by many a magazine, newspaper, and tabloid. I am the girl who survived. I am the girl who lived to tell the tale. My book, The Incredible True Story of the Making of Eve of Destruction, went on to be a bestseller that was shelved in the fiction section, all because no one wanted to believe what happened, happened.
But it did.
Even if it took decades for the truth to finally come out.
Not many believe it. How could they? It sounds farfetched. The United States of America nuked themselves in a Broken Arrow event. Not even Hollywood could make up a story that fantastic. It wasn’t some evil power that did us in. We did it to ourselves.
Speaking of Hollywood, they’re now making a movie about my book—the making of the making of the movie that resulted in the state of Arkansas being decimated and the fallout extending to the lower eastern seaboard.
Hundreds of thousands of people were affected by that day on Crow Mountain. And it was covered up by the powers that be. When we walked out of that fallout shelter that day into what Max would later claim to be a truly Mad Max wasteland—it was our new reality. We were never the same. It was dark, cold, and silent. No one ever truly understood the silence. Only a few survived living so close to ground zero. Only when FEMA arrived and took charge of the situation did everyone fully realize it wasn’t the Russians who attacked us. However, it wasn’t until ten years later that it become public knowledge.
It was a man with a camera and his powerful lens cap that caused a chain reaction that caused the ICBM to explode.
Cinematographer Dylan Paige was the scapegoat. Sadly, he was the first to be silenced. Conspiracy theories ran wild. But then he went to work for the government. He was responsible for the propaganda films that you see today, like Fallout Bad. In a way, Mr. Paige went to work rewriting history.
The rest of us weren’t so lucky.
Everyone wants to know what happened to the Griffin Flat Ten.
I’ll tell you.
Here’s how we ended up:
Terrence and I received confirmation from the people in charge that everyone close to us was dead. There were no bodies, so we didn’t get visual confirmation. But they waited the appropriate time and decided to make it official in written form. Not a lot of people survived. It took me and Terrence forever to grieve. We were in shock and disbelief over the fact that we witnessed a fireball in the sky. We waited forever for the bomb to drop and then it did, sort of. Terrence and I wouldn’t let each other out of sight for the longest time. We were family. We stayed strong because Mom and Dennis would want us to. Dad too. Pops would be happy for how close Terrence and I are. Ms. Wilcox would have probably made a snide remark but been glad her son didn’t have to go on living alone.
We were relocated to a small town in Colorado. The air was crisp. It was perfect for our damaged respiratory systems. Once the fallout from the actual fallout happened we were able to live our lives, though the government liked to keep tabs on us.
Terrence and I remained close. We even share a driveway. He is the best brother ever. He works at a radio station, where he plays the music of his youth.
Max has finally let me and others see his drawings. He’s also a published writer of science fiction romance novels. He writes under the pen name Axm Griffin.
Freddy has become my best friend. We talk almost every day. His acting career has flourished. He’s producing the movie version of my book, and his son—who may or may not have a tail—is going to be playing him in the movie. Freddy is also Max and I’s backer for our venture into television. A network channel is bringing comic books to the screen, and we think Teenage Mutant will have appeal. Just as long as they don’t whitewash our stories.
Astrid became one of those recluse celebrities, though she’s rumored to have a tell-all book coming out. I doubt it. The government didn’t look too kindly upon my version of events.
Sadly, Owen never regained his sight. He has, however, found his calling in science-fiction stories told through different lenses. His new work is a spin-off of a Star Wars kind of series. It’s full of humor and heart. He’s been trying to get Astrid to star in one of the walk-on roles, but she keeps declining his offer.
Once it became public knowledge that Director Norman Edman let Dylan take the fall for the “accident,” it was hard for the director to find work in Hollywood. Eventually he moved back to the small town in Colorado and became the community director of the local theater.
The bus driver, whose name I can’t remember, died in 2004. He spent his remaining years working as a bus driver for a local retirement home. He seemed happy but had a lot of flashbacks due to his PTSD.
Tyson eventually became a director himself and has signed on to direct the movie version of my story. Hopefully, he doesn’t turn into the kind of director Norman Edman was and, from what I hear from the actors at the local theater, still is. Get the footage no matter the cost.
And me? Whatever happened to Laura Ratliff? Well, you just read my version of events, and hundreds of thousands of millions of people did too. My comic books with Max are a huge success. Teenage Mutant is even getting action figures. People of all ages want to be Destiny when they grow up, kicking butt and taking names.
Sometimes it’s hard to realize what we went through those seven days back in the Griffin Flat High School bomb shelter. Not everyone believes us. Though the evidence is there. Maybe one day everyone will finally believe the Griffin Flat Ten.
Well, my name is Laura Ratliff. And this is my story. Let no one tell it differently than me.[79]
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to editor extraordinaire Dan Ehrenhaft. Honestly, not a day goes by that I don’t stop and think how lucky I am to work with you.
And thanks to Bronwen Hruska, Janine Agro, Rachel Kowal, and everyone at Soho for championing The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction.
To my family. Thank you for always being there and letting me follow my writing dream. Thank you Mom, Dad, and my brother, Alex. I love y’all.
And thank you for joining me in the Fallout Shelter and reading, The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction.
Go Hogs!!!
Also by Amy Brashear
No Saints in Kansas