Fractured

This is the way the world ends,

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

- T.S. Eliot

The Day

It's happening. It's finally fucking happening. This is it.

Nathan simply stood and stared at the television in front of him, eyes wide in fear and unconsciously shivering as the alert played out, muting the news broadcast behind it as an automated voice began to speak in it's broken electronic voice.

"Attention. This is the Emergency Alert System, broadcasting on the express orders of the United States government. At this moment, approximately thirty-two hundred nuclear missiles are en-route to the continental United States. Citizens are advised to remain calm and not attempt evacuation, instead seeking shelter in underground fallout shelters or basements when unavailable. The national highway system must be kept open for military personnel to mobilize. Repeat. Nuclear strike imminent. Seek shelter immediately. Details to follow."

As another warning tone played out, Nathan searched ran out of his living room, calling for his daughter.

"Angel? Angel!", he shouted, hearing movement on the second floor as he entered the kitchen and went straight towards an out-of-the-way cabinet, which he ripped open to reveal two sets of duffel bags, each of which he had prepared long ago in case of such an event. As he heard the sirens begin to wail, he turned to find a sleepy little girl clutching a plush toy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It was a weekend, after all. As he noted the scared look in her eyes, Nathan bent down and gripped her shoulders, briefly moving as strand of black hair out of her eye before speaking.

"Angel, listen to me. I need you to get dressed in some pants and a shirt as fast as you can and meet me by the garage door, okay?", he said shakily, letting her go after she nodded in agreement. Standing up again as she ran back up the stairs of their two-story house outside Atlanta, he rushed to his room, ignoring the electronics situated at his desk, and instead opening the closet and shoving clothes aside in order to reveal a large gun safe in the corner.

September 3, 2005.

Inputting the code into the electronic lock, he was rewarded with the muted sound of the safe unsealing under the wail of the sirens and now, the distant sound of gunshots. Grabbing the rifle inside and slinging it around his back by the sling, he next grabbed the packs of ammunition and shoved them into his pockets before running back to the kitchen, not bothering with closing the safe. There was no point anymore.

As he entered the kitchen and began slinging bags over his shoulders, he turned and found Angel standing next to the garage door, now dressed adequately in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. In what would likely be amusing if they weren't facing imminent death, she still clutched the plush figure as if it was a lifeline. Giving her a reassuring smile, Nathan opened the garage door and led her to his Mercury Milan,where he loaded the supplies into the passenger seat as she sat in the back.

Seating himself and performing the cursory checks as required, he quickly hit the door remote and reversed, pulling out into the street and speeding towards the city. As he began plotting out his next move, he turned the radio on in order to listen for more instructions.

"-a one megaton explosion. We now interrupt this broadcast with an address from the president. Please wait."

There was a slight pause, which Nathan took as an opportunity to quietly curse as he weaved through traffic, ignoring the rules of the road in favor of reaching the Center for Disease Control and Prevention's headquarters. As he pulled around a corner, passing by a group of vandals, the strong voice of the nation's leader spoke.

"My fellow Americans, today is a day that, while we prepared in earnest for, we had hoped would never occur. I am here to inform you that despite our best efforts, we have failed. The United States will soon suffer the unthinkable as the effect of our actions becomes apparent. Already, contact has been lost with the majestic state of Hawaii, and this message may not reach those on the east coast in time. We can only hope our fellow citizens can weather the storm."

As the president paused, Nathan reached a dead stop in the traffic, tantalizingly close to the headquarters. He could see the rooftop from where he sat as a military helicopter appeared to take off from the top. Gesturing to Angel to stay put, he opened the door and stood, trying to peer over the traffic. Grunting in annoyance, he stands on his seat and hangs out the car, elevating himself just enough to see over the throngs.

Dammit. Dammit!

Nathan filled with rage as he scanned the military cordon surrounding the headquarters, battle tanks and troop transports with young, scared soldiers guarding the building against their own countrymen. As he watched, a woman thrust a bundle towards one of the young men. Even from his position, he could see the regret in the soldier as he pushed the bundle and woman away, back into the writhing mass of fear crashing against them.

Wincing and turning away, Nathan sat back inside the car and began gathering items as he reassured Angel.

“It’s alright, Angel, it’s alright. We can go somewhere else. There’s just too many people here, that’s all. Come on, we’re going to go for a quick walk and we’ll find somewhere else, ok?”, he said, ending in a strained tone as they stepped outside and looked around at the people rushing out around the cares in a wave of humanity towards potential shelter.

Choosing the direction of the most sturdy structure he could think of, he began to run, holding Angel’s hand in an iron grip, the other hanging onto the supplies he knew would be essential to their continued survival in whatever remained of the world when it was over.

=

Almost a half hour later, they had managed to secure shelter in the decrepit fallout shelter in an old gym nearby. Having went to the building several times and become knowledgeable of the layout, Nathan knew of how the building had been refurbished and renovated, yet left the fallout shelter beneath unchanged. At the moment, they were huddled around a mostly-static radio as a voice filtered through, among the quiet cries of the dozen or so people sheltered with them. As they sat listening on crates of supplies, Nathan gave his daughter a reassuring smile as she cried.

“Where’s mommy?”, she asked, sniffling.

Nathan sat silent for a moment, thinking through his reply.

“Mommy left to go somewhere better. She’ll see us when we get there, okay?”

Angel nodded and leaned against Nathan as they sat and listened to the now-faint voice on the radio.

“... and though it may seem impossible, and though it may seem hopeless… keep faith America… and stay safe…”

As the last vestiges of the president’s speech fell into static and someone shut off the radio, they began to wait. The darkness of the dimly lit room seemed to creep in, ready to consume them as the faint sounds of sirens and shouting carried over from above. Abruptly, a wail rose up, the sound of millions screaming in fear as Death came to take them away in a rain of fire. Just as suddenly, it all stopped.

And the sky roared in fury as man was erased from the Earth that he had so vainly squandered.

=

8 Days Later

That was it. There was no more denying it.

They were fucked.

Following the blasts, the power grid had broken down, as well as any semblance of order. For the past eight days, they had been traveling from store to store, commandeering a truck and loading it with supplies before taking shelter at the abandoned gym, sitting in the derelict shelter and watching the children half-heartedly play with toys from the Preschool classrooms, the toys and bright colors doing little to brighten their lives as blood-red clouds boiled in the sky above. Regardless, they should have been safe. Food, water, and guns. They had what they would need to survive didn't they?

There was one problem. There was an enemy they couldn't see, but it was always there, poisoning them the whole time.

Radiation.

The symptoms had begun to show. There was no doubt. Even as the others became sick and died, he couldn’t accept it.  After she had fell ill and began to become dehydrated as fluids came up, he had used a scavenged dosimeter to check her and found a whopping 5 sieverts of radiation present. He knew what it meant. He'd attended the meetings on the protocol in the event of a dirty bomb detonation or nuclear accident. She had two weeks. Less. The radiation was climbing, and there wasn't a damn thing to do about it. There was nothing he could do to save her. He had failed his basic duty as a father. He failed to protect his child.

12 Days Later

She loved the plushie.

Even though her hair was falling out, she was coughing blood, and frequently passed out of consciousness, she would always reach for two things. Him, and the little stuffed toy they had gotten her. She would hold it close and talk of how she saw clouds and great rolling meadows before falling asleep once more, as he sung soft lullabies to her.

Every time she breathed out, he paused and listened, waiting and praying for the next breath, knowing it couldn't continue. He couldn't let it continue. She was suffering, and it was inevitable.

13 Days Later

She died in his arms. Like a doll, but so much more. Fragile. Broken. A fallen angel. He made the body as comfortable as she had been in life and left. That day, another fire sprung up in the remains of the city, unremarkable among the endless plains of fire already engulfing the dead metropolis.

14 Days Later

He began walking and never stopped. Never stayed anywhere longer than to sleep. Survival was his only option now, despite all his wishes. Basic demand for survival had overridden all his desire for it to end, his primal aspects of his mind forcing him on, marching among the deserted remains of the continent, alone on a dead planet. Alone, where angels fear to tread.