HAROLD
The world had not just ended.
That plume of smoke earlier, it wasn't from a nuclear attack, it was from the fertilization plant in town.
The sirens that blared...they were a warning, for sure, but not that the world was ending, but rather that the plan was on fire.
Dad always warned us kids, growing up, that if something was going to destroy this town, it was that damned fertilizer plant.
I hope they made it to the bunker my father-in-law had built on time, because that explosion we heard meant the plant was destroyed and all the buildings, homes and anyone close by…they were all gone.
I tried to open the door, but Mr. Jacobs wouldn't let me. He bared my way and no amount of pushing or struggling could move him.
By this point, others who had made it to the bunker surrounded us and someone grabbed my arms and yanked them back.
The entry area is small, cramped and with the group of us, I became claustrophobic. I remember yelling at them to open the door and Mr. Jacobs telling me he couldn't.
One second I was standing there, about to lunge, and then I was lights out the next second.
Someone had hit me in the back of the head with something, knocking me clean out.
When I came to, I was lying on a bunk bed with Mr. Jacobs sitting on a chair beside me.
Do you have any idea what it's like to argue with someone who won't budge?
Yeah, you probably do, don't you.
Are you the one who's arguing, or the one who refuses to budge? No, don't answer that. I can already tell there's no arguing with you once you're mind is made up.
Jacobs was like that. No matter how much I explained that what we heard and saw was the fertilizer plant blowing up, Jacobs would not be moved.
He said that no matter what, we needed to wait at least two or three months before opening the door in case of radiation.
There was no danger to us outside those doors, but he wouldn't listen.
I needed to get to my family, to make sure they were safe, and it didn't matter who stood in my way.
I had a whopper of a headache, but I made it to the door and tried to open but nothing would happen.
Jacobs stood behind me and delivered the news that made me hate him. I never wanted to murder someone as I did at that moment.
Thanks to the government contractor who built this bunker, the doors were locked for a solid three months. They had been preprogrammed to only open at the ninety-day mark, if the outside sensor readings gave the all-clear.
Where these sensor readers were located, I have no idea. How it was reading them, again, no idea. Something about proprietary systems installed by the government contractor.
All I knew was that once they were closed and the security lock initiated, there was nothing we could do to open them.
Can you believe that? You would think you'd have a back up plan, a code to input in case things go sideways or the system fails or...any other scenario.
For a man who thought of everything, he forgot the most important thing - at least in my books. Have a way out.
Jacobs didn't think of that, though. He didn't plan that far ahead, I guess. All I know is that he didn't have the fucking code.
Who the hell doesn't have a code as a backup, in case, oh, I don't know...there is no nuclear fallout, and you'd just overreacted?
Have I mentioned how many were in the bunker yet? Around twenty or so souls.
Twenty of us, including children, were forced to live together for the next three months because some asshole jumped the gun too fast, and I didn't stand my ground.
Three months. At the time, it felt like a lifetime, but looking back...oh God, I wish it had only been three months.
Life was mundane in that bunker, I can't even tell you.
It's one thing to plan, theorize, strategize to live out in a bunker to escape some life-threatening event, but it's another to go through it.
Especially alone.
I marked down the days. I kept busy by taking care of things in the bunker, doing my part in cleaning, fixing, keeping track of supplies. I did everything I could just to keep my mind off wondering if my family survived the explosion, if they were still alive, if they knew where I was...three months of that, Jack, was devastating.
I'm not ashamed to admit I shed a lot of tears over my family. You would have too if you'd been locked away from your mother for months on end, having no idea if she were still alive or not.
Listen, I know things are different now when it comes to the new doomsday bunkers. I've done my research, and I've talked to enough people to know that people are even more obsessed now than before, and the systems put into place are more enhanced than what it was like in the sixties.
A bunker is a bunker though, and no amount of video screens pretending otherwise will change the fact you are locked away in a concrete building buried in the ground.
We had absolutely no contact with the outside. No windows, no phone lines, nothing to stay in touch with another living human being.
Three months.
Anyone could survive three months, right? Sure. It's doable. As long as there is an end date, an exit strategy, anything is doable.
Except, after three months, the door didn't open. On day ninety, we all waited, standing there in front of the door, wondering at the exact time it would unlock and open.
You want to know what life was like in that bunker? It's everything you imagine it would be and worse than you could imagine.
Have you ever seen any of the photos from that time? Visited any of the museums dedicated to the bomb shelters and stuff? Sardines in a cement can. Fuck, we've got more room in our cells downstairs than we had in that bunker.
We were on top of each other. There was a smell within the rooms that wouldn't go away after the second week. Showers were limited and sponge baths were preferred to save water. You were able to find some privacy if needed, but it was behind shelves or in a corner in one of the rooms. We played cards, board games, read books, and bickered about what we all thought happened outside.
I was the only one in the beginning who believed the fertilizer plant had been on fire. Everyone else thought the worst had happened and the Soviets lobbied a bomb at us.
They all believed everyone outside of the shelter was dead, saying that there was no way an explosion at the fertilizer plant could have rocked our bunker like it had.
Come that ninety-day mark though, you can bet people were starting to lean toward my way of thinking. There was hope that their family members would be waiting for them, that this was all a mistake, that all was fine.
I'll admit, when those doors didn't open, when Jacobs explained in more detail how the sensors worked, that hope I had...it started to disappear.
Not all at once. But day after day, when I'd go to check the door during my morning, afternoon and evening rounds?
Hell yeah, a little piece of my soul died.