the hardest. Jules and his daughter spend it organizing their supplies and planning out their rations. Jules knows that they might have to stay in the basement for at least a week before help arrives. There is no way to know for sure. They desperately need contact with the outside world to know what is happening. Jules is dismayed when he finds that their emergency radio does not work. He curses himself for not checking the condition of their supplies more regularly. Nothing is working, not even their flashlights. The only way they had any light was from a small gas-powered camping lantern that wasn’t affected by whatever had knocked out all of the electricity.
Jules tries not to think about all the people he had seen on the street. He had seen them at first out of his periphery while he was busy pouring himself some tea. It was a normal morning, with the daily traffic outside that was expected in the University Area for a weekday. But then everyone stopped and fell over simultaneously. The power went out as well. Then there was the crash and the car horn.
Everything that Jules had learned about emergency planning kicked into gear. He didn’t know for certain what had caused the attack. Probably a combination of an electro-magnetic pulse and a biological attack, he theorized. His daughter and himself were likely not affected by the later because they were inside. Jules hoped none of what he assumed was an invisible gas that had knocked out the people on the street had crept inside the house. Now Jules felt they were safe. The effect had been instant for those outside, as if all had inhaled the poison at once. He and his daughter were fine.
Tayna is adjusting well to the crisis, Jules thought. He was proud of her. He didn’t understand human psychology as well as biology, but he figured it was probably the resiliency she had built up as a young adolescent after the death of her mother. Jules still worries for her, though, a father’s worry. He watches her carefully as she callously cataloges their food stock on a clipboard. It had been her idea to categorize the items based on caloric and nutritional value. That way they ate as balanced and as nutrient-dense meals as possible.
But both of them stop when they hear the distant sounds of something...different. Jules can’t be sure of what. The car horn that had been blaring had stopped after the first half hour. Since then the world outside had been silent. However, now Jules hears sounds from outside. It sounds like an earthquake that is happening far away.
Jules can’t risk tearing off the dark trash bags on the windows in order to have a look. He fears what he thought might be a biological agent might seep in. He doesn’t want his daughter exposed. Regardless, Jules has to know what is going on. It is the scientist in him. He can’t just sit back and now know. The curiosity will gnaw at him incessantly.
Searching through one of the several storage bins that line the wall of Jules’ basement, he finds what he is looking for. An old gas mask, a remnant of a project from his thirties. A time when he had worked on a project team investigating the effects of neurotoxins in the Middle East. It was a miserable experience, and one that had turned Jules away from the study of biological warfare. He remembered all the bodies he had investigated and autopsied. There were men, women and children. All were victims of some government’s attempts to maintain control through fear mongering. Jules never imagined he’d have to wear the mask again.
Taking one of the trash bags and some duct tape, Jules pulls on the mask. He tells his daughter he will be right back. By this time the sounds of what seems to be vibrating earth is getting closer. Jules and his daughter can feel the vibrations in the cement floor.
Making his way up the basement stairs, Jules is quick to tear off the plastic covering the door. Hurriedly he opens it and scampers through. Holding up the plastic bag he
Jules tries not to think about all the people he had seen on the street. He had seen them at first out of his periphery while he was busy pouring himself some tea. It was a normal morning, with the daily traffic outside that was expected in the University Area for a weekday. But then everyone stopped and fell over simultaneously. The power went out as well. Then there was the crash and the car horn.
Everything that Jules had learned about emergency planning kicked into gear. He didn’t know for certain what had caused the attack. Probably a combination of an electro-magnetic pulse and a biological attack, he theorized. His daughter and himself were likely not affected by the later because they were inside. Jules hoped none of what he assumed was an invisible gas that had knocked out the people on the street had crept inside the house. Now Jules felt they were safe. The effect had been instant for those outside, as if all had inhaled the poison at once. He and his daughter were fine.
Tayna is adjusting well to the crisis, Jules thought. He was proud of her. He didn’t understand human psychology as well as biology, but he figured it was probably the resiliency she had built up as a young adolescent after the death of her mother. Jules still worries for her, though, a father’s worry. He watches her carefully as she callously cataloges their food stock on a clipboard. It had been her idea to categorize the items based on caloric and nutritional value. That way they ate as balanced and as nutrient-dense meals as possible.
But both of them stop when they hear the distant sounds of something...different. Jules can’t be sure of what. The car horn that had been blaring had stopped after the first half hour. Since then the world outside had been silent. However, now Jules hears sounds from outside. It sounds like an earthquake that is happening far away.
Jules can’t risk tearing off the dark trash bags on the windows in order to have a look. He fears what he thought might be a biological agent might seep in. He doesn’t want his daughter exposed. Regardless, Jules has to know what is going on. It is the scientist in him. He can’t just sit back and now know. The curiosity will gnaw at him incessantly.
Searching through one of the several storage bins that line the wall of Jules’ basement, he finds what he is looking for. An old gas mask, a remnant of a project from his thirties. A time when he had worked on a project team investigating the effects of neurotoxins in the Middle East. It was a miserable experience, and one that had turned Jules away from the study of biological warfare. He remembered all the bodies he had investigated and autopsied. There were men, women and children. All were victims of some government’s attempts to maintain control through fear mongering. Jules never imagined he’d have to wear the mask again.
Taking one of the trash bags and some duct tape, Jules pulls on the mask. He tells his daughter he will be right back. By this time the sounds of what seems to be vibrating earth is getting closer. Jules and his daughter can feel the vibrations in the cement floor.
Making his way up the basement stairs, Jules is quick to tear off the plastic covering the door. Hurriedly he opens it and scampers through. Holding up the plastic bag he
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