Baywolf scowled harder, but Flower didn’t seem to mind the question. “Same as all of you, I guess. Just wanted to get away from the cities and camp out for a while somewhere that seemed like it might not bear the brunt of things.”
Shotgun raised an eyebrow. Gordo couldn’t tell if Shotgun was trying to be funny or if he was actually attempting to display skepticism, but it was amusing either way. For a man who had carved out a virtual doomsday palace, Shotgun was surprisingly critical of most of the other survivalists.
“Let me guess,” Shotgun said. “Vampires?”
“Of course not,” Flower said, patting Shotgun on the arm. “Vampires aren’t real. It’s zombies we’re worried about.” She paused for a second and then smiled. “Just kidding.” She waited a minute for Shotgun to smile back then made her face look dead serious and said, “I believe in vampires.”
Gordo decided he liked this girl. She had some nice spirit, and if she was already willing to tweak Shotgun, she might do okay out in Desperation. Her boyfriend was another matter, but that wasn’t much his problem. “Shotgun is more of the nuclear apocalypse school of thought,” he said.
“Shotgun?” Flower’s boyfriend said with a scoff. “That’s your name?”
Gordo had known Shotgun long enough that he recognized the curve of Shotgun’s lips as something other than a smile. “Yes, Baywolf, my name is Shotgun.”
Gordo stuck out his hand to Flower. “Gordon Lightfoot, but everybody calls me Gordo.”
“Gordon Lightfoot? Like the singer?” Flower shook his hand. She had a firm grip.
“Yep, like the singer,” Gordo said. “But no relation. You might want to ask Burly over at the Lead Saloon if you need a place to stay. His brother’s place has been empty for a while. He’d probably let you rent it cheap. An old trailer over by the Grimsby homestead. Not much to look at from the outside, but if I know Burly, it will be clean and weatherproof.”
He turned to take his beer off the counter and stopped. The television. He banged Shotgun on the arm. “Holy fuck. You see this?”
Up on the screen, the game show was gone, replaced by a newscaster from the network. Gordo didn’t recognize the man on-screen, but it was easy to tell he was harried. On the bottom of the screen were the words “nuclear explosion.”
“Burly?” the girl said behind him.
“Just a minute. Hey, LuAnne, can you turn up the sound for a minute?”
LuAnne lumbered over and obliged, and Gordo realized it had gotten quiet behind him, the eleven Grimsby children shushed by their parents.
“. . . minutes ago. According to the White House, the Chinese premier has confirmed that the explosion was an accident during training exercises. Again, we apologize for cutting away from your regularly scheduled program, but in breaking news, a nuclear bomb exploded less than twenty minutes ago in the northern Chinese province of Xinjiang. While the scope of the destruction is not clear, the White House has informed us that this was an isolated incident. The Chinese government is reporting it as a military accident. At this time we believe a military aircraft carrying a live nuclear weapon crashed during a training mission. We don’t have much information, but we’ll go now to the White House where—”
Gordo didn’t wait to hear what the reporter from the White House did or did not know. He and Shotgun glanced at each other then scrambled out the door, followed closely by Patty and Ken Grimsby and their brood. His last image of the inside of LuAnne’s Pizza & Beer was LuAnne tossing her white towel on the bar and spinning toward the kitchen while Flower and Baywolf looked around in confusion.
All thoughts of the hippie girl and her angry boyfriend disappeared as he pounded the gas pedal against the floor of his truck. He saw Shotgun’s truck take the corner too fast, tearing up a cloud of dust, but he was too busy dialing Amy to worry about Shotgun. When he turned into his driveway, he hit the dip fast enough that he was pretty sure he got all four wheels airborne. He could feel his heart jackhammering as he slammed on the brakes and ran to get the shelter doors down.
And then, after all that, it was just the three of them inside the shelter, doors secured: Claymore wagging his tail, Amy telling him he’d been right all along, and Gordo feeling a hollow nervousness in the pit of his stomach.
He was ready for the end of the world.
Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center,
Twentynine Palms, California