by G.M. Shephard

While Michael/Karen and Megan prepare to spend Christmas together, another Christmas celebration somewhere else is in the planning stages, one that will be less enjoyable for those participating. The big question will finally be answered.

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Angel S:1E:8 “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Editied by: jeffusually
kiitylover

Episode 8 “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”

In the late 1950s, a popular do-it-yourself project for the home was to build your own bomb shelter. The Cold War was in full swing, and both the Soviet Union and the United States were stockpiling nuclear weapons with the sole intent of making the other side glow in the dark. The citizens of each side lived in daily fear of a sudden attack that would vaporize whole cities in the blink of an eye. Schools would conduct nuclear strike drills in which the students were told to get under their desks, as if the 10-million-degree heat generated from the fusing of hydrogen, deuterium and tritium would be deflected by the wood and steel of the desk. The paranoia took hold of the people; they were convinced a nuclear apocalypse was imminent. Humans’ fear of death, and their desire to live, prompted them to find their own solution to extend their lives when the leaders failed to do so for them. Life reduced to the bare minimum suffering in a confined space underground for years was better than dying a quick death as your body was instantly vaporized in temperatures greater than in the core of the Sun.

Living underground unable to venture outside was harsh living. The amenities of everyday life we take for granted must be conserved and used sparingly. Electricity, fresh water, sewage, and even clean air, all of which used to come in or out of our homes as if by magic, now all came as a result of hard work. Electricity had to be created by gas generators and solar panels. The thick dust in the stratosphere that blocked the Sun and did little to generate power. Gasoline was stockpiled, and will last for some time if conserved, but cannot be stored indefinitely like crude oil. In time, if used sparingly, the fuel reserves would last until the Sun started to appear in the sky again. The solar panels above would then be able to generate free endless power from the power of the Sun’s light. Clean water and air were also a concern as was the elimination of waste. Fortunately, filters were in place to keep both the air and water supplies clean and free of contamination. All this in order to survive until it was safe to return above the ground, uncertain of what would be discovered.

“Would there be any other survivors, or were we all that was left?” Liz asked herself this question a hundred times a day, and the possible answers ate her alive. There was little to do to keep her mind occupied and entertained. Some days, she wanted to just end it and pop the hatch, and die a slow painful death as radiation destroyed her and Ashley’s bodies cell by cell. What did they really have to live for? Michael was dead, lost in space, and Liz missed her husband having spent many nights locked in her bedroom, crying while Ashley begged to be let in. When Liz was rational, she and her daughter did everything they could to entertain each other in an effort to avoid thinking about that point when life suddenly changed for the worse.

Having to conserve power meant that their entertainment was limited to books, board games, cards, art, and endless sleeping. Even if electricity was plentiful, no one was broadcasting on TV or radio. No shows to follow each week, or music to dance to. It was when every possible ending to every game was experienced, and all the songs were sung a thousand times, that life started to get miserably boring, allowing the depression to take hold, stripping them of any will to carry on. The depression was so debilitating, paralyzing one from functioning. In the early days after the impact, Liz wouldn’t eat or drink. She sat in the corner of the shelter curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth until the last drop of fluids left her tear ducts. As the first week passed them up, and time progressed, Liz grew stronger and focused all of her attention to loving her little bundle of joy.

Liz prepared dinner while Ashley lay on the couch reading a book. She was a bookworm like her father; she loved entering the world of someone’s imagination where she could escape the small, confining world that protected her, yet imprisoned her. Fortunately, the only resource it required was light and the few fiber optic skylights delivered some free light twenty feet below. For at least part of the day until the sun passed low in the sky, they had some dim light that passed through the clouds. As part of Ashley’s daily routine, she would wake up and record each new day counting up to that 730th day, in which they could leave this miserable place and breathe fresh air again. Earlier in the day she had marked in red pen December 21. It was the only thing they had to remind them that Christmas was only four days away. This year there would be no trees, no lights, no fancy dinners, and no presents. All they had were Christmas carols and the paper snowflakes they made to remind them of the reason for the season.

“Ashley, time to eat. Put that book down and wash up, honey.” Ashley groaned at being told to do obvious things such as washing her hands before dinner. They sat down at the small round table in the corner where a bowl of Chef Boyardee ravioli, a bowl of heated canned vegetables and a half a package of saltine crackers waited eagerly to be consumed.

“For dinner, the chef has prepared a delightful meal of Ravioli á  la Owen. Freshly made Italian pockets of noodles stuffed with savory seasoned beef, covered with a garden fresh herb marinara with a side of freshly plucked vegetables.” The mother and daughter began giggling. It was their tradition before praying over every meal to over- hype the canned rations as if they were once again dining in a fancy restaurant. If anything, it served as a brief moment of escape and made them feel like all was still right in the world.

“Thank you, Lord, for keeping us safe and provided for. Make the dust go away so the Sun can come out and let us go outside again. As always, say hi to Daddy for us and tell him we love him and miss him. Amen.” They crossed themselves remaining silent for a few moments, while fighting the tears back.

“Bon appétit,” Liz said as they dug in and began eating.

“Oh, this is delicious; compliments to the chef,” Ashley said, continuing their routine a little longer, drawing another laugh. The rest of dinner was eaten in silence as it often was. Since Michael left Earth, the dinner table was quiet as they struggled to find hope to remain alive in an extinct world.

“Ashley honey, I need to talk to you.” She was such a great kid. She was very smart like her father, but it was her constant joy she carried around with her regardless of the situation they were in that Liz loved most about her daughter. She had this magical aura around her that kept away all the evil the world had to offer. She was completely unaffected by the death and devastation that existed twenty feet above their heads and lived each day happy as can be. Liz wished that she could be young and innocent again, free from the burden this cruel life dealt her.

“What is it, Mommy?”

“Ash, I’m sorry, but this Christmas isn’t going to be like they used to be. I don’t have anything I can give you.” It was hard to accept; she had nothing to offer her daughter. Ashley didn’t deserve this kind of life. She should be playing with the other kids, going to school and developing into a young lady.

“That’s OK; I don’t need anything as long as I have you.” Liz started crying; her daughter was so mature and selfless. She held her arms out to her.

“Aw, come here,” Ashley put her fork down and hugged her mother, “I love you, you know that right? I wish your daddy were around to see how big of a girl you have become. He would be very proud of you.”

“He can see me; he’s an angel now. He’s in heaven watching over us.” Liz started to choke up even more.

“You’re mommy’s little angel. I tell you what,” Liz said as she released Ashley and looked her in the eye, “Instead of presents, we are going to pig out for Christmas. Anything you want, we will make it and have a feast. How does that sound?” Ashley cheered and went back to eating her current meal. No matter what, Liz committed herself to getting through this, if for anything, for her daughter.

______

“Nothing like that fifth cup of coffee in the morning,” I said out loud laughing at my tired old joke while inhaling the pleasant aromas of the special Columbian roast. I sipped my coffee pretending it was actually burning my lips while laying out the assortment of breakfast pastries. Megan, awake from her slumber, was drawn to the kitchen by the best alarm clock known to man. She appeared in the doorway wearing light blue plaid pajama bottoms, a light blue tank top and a furry white robe. Her hair was messy as if she had driven down the freeway with her head sticking out the window. She held her hand up to her mouth and let out an obnoxious yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine. Coffee?” I asked her handing her a freshly poured cup that I poured the moment the sounds of her getting out of bed vibrated my ear drum.

“Yes, please. Ooh, these look great; where did you get them?” she asked picking up a ham and cheese croissant and placing them on a plate.

“Oh, just a little French cafe a friend of mine told me about.” She looked at me a little puzzled.

“What friend is -” before finishing the sentence, it hit her. “Really? When did you go there?” This time she finished her sentence before realizing it was a stupid question.

“This morning. They open at 7 a.m. Eastern Time.”

“Thank you Michael; that was very sweet of you. You didn’t have to go all the way back to DC,” she said as she poured some cream into her coffee.

“It only takes me about 15 minutes to get there flying at a moderate speed. I can get there faster, but I tend to wake people. Besides, I enjoy watching all the lights passing below. You can’t imagine what I can see with these eyes.”

“Oh my god, this coffee is out of this world. Where did you get it?” She asked completely ignoring what I had just told her about my flight time and eye sight.

“Columbia.” She was in the middle of taking another sip when I told her. She spewed the Columbian brew through her cute little nose. I started laughing at the mess she made all over the countertop and handed her a napkin.

“You went to Columbia for coffee?”

“Sure. I can go anywhere I want, whenever I want. The world is mine to explore. There is a freedom that this body came with. I no longer have any boundaries or vulnerabilities. Of course, I have become very emotionally vulnerable as I realize this body is also my prison.

“You are very lucky to be able to experience what no person alive will ever get to encounter. You get to see the world through many different points of view, while the rest of us have to wonder. What you have is a blessing, a true gift. I hope you will see it someday as only that, and use what you have been given to bring people together.” She paused knowing that it wasn’t a good time to get into a deep conversation. Instead, she switched back to what Michael was trying to tell her. “So, tell me about this vision of yours.”

“It’s spectacular. I wish I knew how to describe it. You ever see one of those behind-the-scenes documentaries and they show you raw clips of the film as it was actually shot, then they show you the finished product where all the colors are vibrant and bright, the image sharp and crystal-clear? Then you look at the original film and it’s all bland looking. I see the world as if it’s the final cut. Beyond that, I can see in very low lux as well as infrared and radio wavelengths. Not sure about the other wavelengths.”

“Sounds amazing. You have really good acute hearing too, don’t you?” I let her question sink in a moment. Losing all control, I snorted at Megan’s comment, followed by a building, uncontrollable hysterical laugh that persisted for several minutes. Megan kept asking what I was laughing at but I couldn’t stop cracking up. My eyes were sealed shut and tears flowing down my cheeks while my knees buckled. It was impossible to breathe and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my mind.

“What?!” she asked again as I finally started to control myself and started to explain.

“Yes, I do, it seems last-” I began laughing for another minute and was starting to piss her off by not including her in my entertainment. She started laughing; mostly laughing at me tearing up from my own laughter.

“Sorry,” deep breath, deep breath, “Yes my hearing is very acute. Seams last night you were enjoying yourself. Heard you brushing your teeth for about twenty minutes with one of those electric toothbrushes,” I erupted into another episode of laughter, struggling to breathe, as the color of Megan’s face was suddenly desaturated leaving her a pale white.

“I’m so sorry,” I finally added afraid I hurt her. Her hand was covering her mouth, embarrassed that I had heard her getting off in the privacy of her own bedroom. Her face was now beet red.

“Oh my god, you heard that?” She started laughing herself causing me to resume my laughing bringing me to the point of asphyxiation.

“Oh, oh, oh my god, yes,” I started quoting her exact words she moaned as she approached climax. We regained our composure, “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Michael, I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet, I didn’t know you could hear that well. Anyways, don’t apologize, it’s really not that embarrassing.” I could tell she was about to switch roles and start talking serious. “Sexual desires are perfectly normal. They are just as strong for females as they are for males, and we have our needs just as you guys do. Did you know there was a new study back in ’79, showing that almost 74% of women between 18 and 30 masturbate at least three times a week? That number is rising too. There is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s perfectly normal.” I was a little taken aback. Sure, I knew women got off, but those numbers…that was hard to believe.

“74% percent? Really?”

“I can show you the journal. I think I have it in my office.”

“That’s OK, Doc, I believe you. I just didn’t know you girls were so feisty when we weren't around.”

She smiled and we were about to laugh again when she asked, “So Michael, time for a little truth or dare. Have you ever done it by yourself? Be honest.”

“Well, of course, been doing it since I was a teen -” She cut me off.

“No Michael,” she said pointing at me, “have you ever taken that new body of yours to the height of Mount Everest and danced for a while on top of its peak? And no, I am not talking about your ability to fly.” The tables were turned, and the conversation was no longer fun.

“God no,” I said very fast with enough authority behind it for her to know I was telling the truth.

“That is surprising. You mean you haven’t been the least bit curious about what a woman’s orgasm feels like?”

“Yes. Well, a little, but I’m afraid to touch it.”

“It? It? It has a name, Michael. Why can’t you guys say it? You have to come up with all these slang words that defile our anatomy. It’s called a vagina. Say it. Come on, man up. Say it.”

“Vagina. There, I said it.”

“See, it’s not so bad. It’s much more dignified than all those other words people use. Words men use to strip it of its beauty and objectify it.”

“Well, the word vagina isn’t that much more dignified.”

“What do you mean? It’s the medical term for the female genitalia.”

“Yes, and that medical term is Latin for ‘sheath’ or ‘scabbard.’ You know, I used to have a sword that might have fit,” I said mockingly at her failed attempt to make me see my new female parts with a little more respect.

“Touché. I didn’t know that. Since when do you know Latin?”

“I got bored last week.”

“Wow, you learned how to speak Latin in a week?” she said in amazement.

“No, I just learned the vocab, haven’t learned any grammar. Likely won’t take it any further; it’s rather useless I become a priest. I was just reading about angels and got sidetracked.”

“That’s pretty amazing, Michael. OK, let’s go back to how this all started. What do you mean you are afraid to touch -” she held up both hands and made quotation marks with her fingers, “- it?”

“I have tried touching my breasts, but every time I do, something weird happens. It’s as if she’s watching me.” I told her about the encounter with the 747, the smoke alarm, and the time the phone rang in the hotel.

“Michael, I only called you once that night.” I was frozen in my tracks.

“Maybe she was watching me and was somehow able to manipulate, from light years away, the world around me,” I was thinking to myself as Megan busted up laughing.

“I’m sorry, Michael. You should see the look on your face right now. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I did call you a second time.” I tried to force a smile,

“That’s not funny.” She patted me on my shoulder as she made her way over to the sink to rinse out her mug.

“Well, I have to get ready. I have stuff to do today, and I need to go to the office a little bit and meet with my partner about resuming work after the holidays. Would you like to come with me? I can show you my office.”

“Thank you, but I thought I would go over to the police station. They haven’t been calling me back. Besides, I want to see if it would be OK to go into my house. I passed by the other day and it was in pretty bad shape.” I fought desperately to restrain the feelings from breaking free and coming to surface. She saw my pain coming back and stood beside me as I sat on the barstool around the island in the middle of the kitchen. She pulled my head close to rest on her shoulder.

“Michael, I know they’re out there somewhere. As long as you won’t give up on them, neither will I. We will find them, and we do, I will do everything to help them understand who you are. It will be difficult and scary at first, but they will see that inside you are the same man inside that you always have been.” She ran her hand through my hair stroking it as I teared up.

“What if we find them, and they reject me? What if I am some kind of freak to them? Liz isn’t into girls, and I highly doubt she has a thing for E.T.s.”

“Michael, you’re not a freak, you’re very special and have a purpose. There is no one like you in the world. You may not believe that right now, but there is a reason for all that has happened to us and most especially you. I don’t care how long it takes, we are going to find out those answers together, OK?” I shook my head and sat up straight again. “Now, I have to get to going. If you want to meet me for lunch, call me at my office before noon, and you can tell me what happened at the station.”

“OK. Megan, thank you for finding me. I am so glad to not be alone anymore.”

“Michael, you found me first and brought me home, now it’s my turn to do the same for you. Oh, speaking of. My mom is having Christmas Eve dinner on Friday, and I want you to spend Christmas Eve in the home I grew up in. My family is very grateful I was able to return to them, and I want you to meet them. I am not going to take no for an answer; I don’t want you to be alone this year. Besides, there is nothing better than a traditional Irish McCormack family Christmas.”

- - Christmas Eve with the McCormacks - -

Megan pulled up and parked her BMW in the driveway of the house she grew up in. It was a beautiful house in an upscale neighborhood in the Houston suburbs. Her parents, into their mid-fifties, just celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary and were just as happy today as they were the day they met. I helped get our contributions to the holiday dinner out of the trunk and we made our way to the front door. I went to press the doorbell when Megan opened the door to her home and walked right in. The house permeated with a combination of pine and cinnamon fragrances mixed with the smell of the Irish holiday roast. Drowning out the electronic 8-bit music box connected to the light strands on the tree was the cheerful sound of adults chatting and kids playing. It was a full house, and I was getting second thoughts, thinking I should spend the night alone in solitude.

“Megan, I think I am going to go home. I don’t really want to do this. I will see you later.” She looked at me with a disappointed look, but behind her eyes I could see she understood. As I reached down to place the bags on the ground and duck out, a loud voice echoed through the front entranceway.

“MEGAN HONEY, Merry Christmas!” Mrs. McCormack appeared from around the corner still wearing her red and green apron. They kissed and hugged. “I’m so glad to see you, sweetie.”

“Hi Mom. Merry Christmas! I brought a bunch of stuff.” She took the pan out of Megan’s hands. “Mom, this is my friend Karen; Karen, this is my mom Catherine.” Instinctively I reached out to shake hands, but she was faster with the hug.

“Well hello, Karen; pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home.” She released her death grip on me and made a quick friendly comment about my height.

“Mrs. McCormack, pleasure to meet you, too. Thank you for having me over.” She made a quick downward waving motion with her hand.

“Oh please, call me Cathy. Come on, let’s go inside and we can talk. I have to check the roast.”

We followed to the point at which all the sounds converged in and around the kitchen and family room.

“Wow, you grew up here? Quite a house,” I said marveling at the interior of the McCormack family home. By no means a mansion, it was still quite large and professionally decorated inside.

“Ronnie! Get off the couch and help your sister and her friend.” Without delaying a second, Megan’s older brother hurried over and tried to take the bags from my hands.

“Here, let me take that for you, taking the bag from my hand. The bag dipped slightly until he could properly compensate for its weight having misjudged how heavy it was. “Hi, I’m Megan’s brother Ronan. You can call me Ron or Ronnie.”

“Ronan, nice to meet you. I’m Karen.” We walked into the kitchen where there was a large gathering of men standing around picking at hors d'oeuvres and drinking while the women were all working to get ready for dinner. A woman I hadn’t been introduced to yet was yelling at the small children running around through the kitchen. Cathy introduced me to the other girls who were herded together in the kitchen. I was instantly bombarded by a thousand different questions, most of which I either didn’t want to answer, or didn’t know how to. They were suffocating, causing me to rapidly become uncomfortable when Megan’s father came in from the garage and saved me.

“Hi Daddy,” she said as he heard her calling him. He hurried over and kissed her.

“How’s my M&M? I’m so happy glad you finally made it home. You are looking a lot better than you did last month.”

“Much better; thank you. Getting stronger and ditched that cane. Dad, this is Karen.
She is a friend of mine; she’s been getting me back in shape. Karen, this is Dr. Damien McCormack.” He reached out to shake hands.

“Another Doctor; now I know were Megan gets it from. Dr. McCormack, pleasure.” He shook my hand gently although I knew if I were in my male body, he would have been the type that would have sized me up by the pounds per square inch of force I could have exerted against his.

“Thank you for what you did for my daughter. She’s lucky to have someone looking out for her well-being. Last month, my baby was like an old lady hobbling around on a cane. Glad to see her looking normal again. Karen, can I get you a drink? Wine, cocktail?”

“Thank you; just a beer please.”

“Beer?! A pretty lady like yourself drinks beer?” He turned to Megan, “I’m starting to like her already. Mind if I show her around?” I was starting to worry, but I trusted my friend knew her father well enough.

“If she doesn’t mind, but you behave, Dad,” she said playfully. He led me over to the bar area in between the kitchen and living room as Catherine whisked Megan away into the kitchen with the other girls, where they continued gabbing away as if they never ceased. The bar was fully-stocked with everything one would need to make any drink their heart desired.

“Our beer is a little dark; hope you don’t mind. In this household, if you can see through it, it’s not allowed through the front door.” I laughed as he withdrew a pint glass and filled it from a tap built into the bar. He handed me a dark black stout with a think perfect head on top.

“So, how do you know my daughter? Well that’s a stupid question; everyone knows her now. I can’t tell you how proud of her we all are. My little girl ventured into space and came home an international hero. Sorry, that was rude; I asked you a question and I kept talking.”

“It’s OK, Dr. McCormack; Megan and I met through a mutual friend. I’m really glad to know her. She is a remarkable and intelligent woman. You did well raising her.”

“Thank you; I appreciate that. Please, I don’t get too caught up in the doctor bit like she does. Just call me Damien.” He took my half empty glass from me, “Here, let’s top that off, and I will introduce you around to everyone.”

- - Christmas Eve with the Owens - -

The flashing red lights came on near the entrance. Liz and Ashley were finishing their little Christmas feast when the front of the bunker become bathed in bright red light, piercing the dim incandescents that created a barrier the shelter’s darkness couldn’t penetrate. Liz and Ashley got up and ran to the door. As the large wheel on the door started turning, Liz grabbed the shotgun off the rack and pointed the barrel at the door. As she waited, she rocked the slide loading a 12-gauge round into the breech. She kept Mossberg trained on the door in anticipation of whoever was coming through the door. Ashley held tightly to her mother's thigh as she stood behind her. The heavy steel door swung open revealing a man in a brown biohazard suit. He stumbled slightly entering the bunker.

“Hi Liz, can you help me?” the man asked as he handed a couple large bags to Liz. She lowered the weapon and laid it against the concrete wall. “I come baring many gifts.” He undid the zipper on the side of the suit and pulled it over his head. “You know I am never going to get used to you greeting me every day with that shotgun pointing at me. I know how good of a shot you are.” Dwayne Turner stepped out of the airlock and sealed the door before hanging his suit up. Liz hugged him happy to see he had returned.

“I’m sorry. I am glad you are home safely.” He held her tight before releasing her and pushing her back a little gently caressing her shoulders.

“Nothing to be sorry about. You are doing everything I have told you to do. It’s for all of our safety. People would kill for the security our home has to offer. Never forget that.” He knelt down reaching into the bag.

“And you, come here, I have something for you.” He produced a little box and handed it to Ashley. She opened it and saw a box full of fresh raspberries, her face wide eyed with excitement.

“Can I have them now?” Dwayne nodded approvingly.

“You may, but you need to promise me something. Where are you supposed to be when that door opens?” Ashley pointed to the bedroom on the far end of the shelter. “That’s right, I don’t want you standing behind your mommy in case she needs to shoot. You are much too innocent and I don’t want you seeing anything you shouldn’t see. Do you understand?” Ashley nodded in agreement. Dwayne gave her a quick noogie. “Go, get out of here and eat your treat before they go bad.” She ran to the couch, her lips already red from the berries.

“Are they safe?” Liz asked.

“I ran more tests and the greenhouse is working, and there is no radiation leaking inside. Pretty soon we can be eating fresh vegetables again.” This was the best news she received yet. She was tired of canned fruits and vegetables. She longed for fresh food again, and if his biosphere did what it was supposed to, life will start improving. “Come help me with the rest.” He leaned over and started whispering into her ear so Ashley couldn’t hear, “Don’t ask me how, but I managed to find a few things that will help make Christmas a little more special.” He opened the bag and let her peek inside. There were cans of food, sodas, some dusty toys and games and a few old-looking Christmas decorations.

“Oh my god, Dwayne; thank you, thank you. You’re the best. We are so lucky to have you. You are going to make that girl of mine really happy tomorrow, but I get worried every time you go out there that you won’t come back. Don’t risk yourself over silly toys; we need you more.” She reached out and hugged him again.

“Liz, you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you two safe. Michael, wherever he is now, would want me to take care of you two. Looking back, I wish it would have been me that went up there, so you three could be together.” She looked at him in the eyes as she started tearing up.

“He would be proud of you. I know you two weren’t the best of friends, but it’s amazing what people do when the world falls apart around us. You were there for us, when no one seemed to care.” Dwayne took the shotgun and ejected the shells, reloading it before he hung it on the rack near the entrance.

“I know he would have done the same for me.”

“Dwayne, do you think I can go outside sometime?” Dwayne stopped.

“Liz, I thought we talked about this. I would love for you to get some freedom from here, I really do, but we only have one suit. If you go and tear it, then I won’t be able to go outside anymore and look for survivors or supplies. The greenhouse is just getting started and will be producing in a few weeks. What’s more important, you getting a little sightseeing in a desolate wasteland, or that little girl’s health? Look, I know it’s a long time, but we will make it. You keep trusting me and someday in about two years we can open that hatch together. I promise you, just be patient.” Liz knew he was right; she would put them all at risk by going outside. She had no idea how she was going to get through it, but he was her rock during these dark times. She knew she needed to show him more appreciation for the risk he took every day to keep her and Ashley alive and well.

__________

There was a clear line of demarcation as the female half prepared dinner or watched the kids, while the men gathered around the rear projection big screen TV watching football. I sipped my beer. Caught somewhere between the two groups, I didn’t want to drift to far from the safety of Megan’s presence, but far enough away from the babbling girls. There was nothing I could talk to them about. I could hear their conversations as they gossiped out other girls and their relationships. They talked without interruption, never running out of useless things to keep their lips moving. Megan I could talk to; she was intelligent, an equal to me. We never spent much time talking about others. As a psychologist, she had clear boundaries she set with her family regarding gossip and refused to talk about others behind their back. It allowed her to have a good, healthy relationship with each member of her family although they likely talked about her behind her back.

The drama queen was her younger sister Rayme, who locked her sights onto me the moment she saw me. Her boyfriend ended up having a great night as she suddenly became very attentive to his every need. She would pass him small snack foods during a kiss. He was in heaven, wondering what got her so hot all of a sudden. He had no clue the attention he was getting was to send a clear message to me to keep away from him. My ears could hear everything she and her cousins were saying behind my back. According to them, I was a tall, anorexic, sex addicted mental patient of Megan’s that had a drinking problem. If only they knew I wished those could be my problems and how miserable my situation really was. Now I had to adjust to being a female and subject to unjustifiable hostility by women who judged me from my outer appearance. To make matters worse, I could hear every slanderous comment whispered between them regardless of how hard I tried to tune them out. Deep down, I hope I never learn Kaaren’s ability to get into someone’s head and know what they were truly thinking. That sort of power was witchcraft and I didn’t want it. I hated myself enough, and knowing what others’ hearts really thought of me would only make my insecurity worse.

Slowly, I inched my way into the testosterone-filled den where the men were clapping and cheering on their team.

“Who’s winning?” was all I could think of to ask, trying to be admitted to the inner circle of masculinity of which I used to be a card-carrying member. Every male head paused and looked back at me, staring as if I were standing there stark naked. After a few moments of shock that a woman hand entered their territory and was trying to play with the boys, they redirected their attention back to the game. It was a useless attempt as I never liked American football much and didn’t understand the game. Growing up, I was more of an intellectual and never got into very many team sports. My attempts to have others explain what was going on in the middle to the critical final moments of the battle were met with fierce hostility.

“MEGAN!,” her younger cousin Steve yelled, “WE’RE TRYING TO WATCH THE GAME AND YOUR FRIEND’S BOTHERING US.” His dad, who was sitting next to him, smacked him upside the head.

“Be nice to your cousin’s friend,” his father said.

“Not having a good time?” Megan said, coming up behind me and handing me a glass of hard alcohol. “Here, family label. Tell me what you think.” Whiskey was not my buddy, but so far my second-best friend in the house. I made passionate love to it hoping the night would get better soon. Truth was, I was miserable. My family consisted of my father, mother, and I. Then it was only him and I, and then he departed shortly after Liz and I were married. Liz’s dad died when she was nine, and her mother passed ten years ago. Hanging with large close knit families was foreign to me and made me feel uncomfortable when it should have been a welcoming experience.

“It’s OK, just trying to fit in; not working out so well.” She reached up and grabbed the collar of my overcoat.

“Here, let me go hang this up for you.” I let her take it off realizing I had been in the warm house over 30 minutes looking strange still wearing my coat. “I really like that sweater; red looks really good on you,” she said, complimenting me for my choice of clothes.

“Thanks!” I loved it, too, and it was the closest thing to female attire I permitted myself to wear. To cover my lower body, I wore a pair of matte black tights and black leather boots that looked like something like feminine cowboy boots, but with softer leather. I let my thick hair down and flow around my shoulders. Megan went back to the kitchen, leaving me in limbo, stuck somewhere between my old life and my new life. I decided against either; I proceeded down the hall homing in on the sounds of boys and electronic sounds. The rec room at the end of the hall emitted the twinkling glow of a television. A young boy’s head peaked down the hall and saw that I was approaching. He was startled and quickly disappeared. I could hear him yelling to the other boys…

“A girl’s coming. Quick!” As I stepped into the room and looked around, I could see all four shove something under the couch cushions and then pile on sitting uncomfortably close to each other.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked. They all quickly replied.

“Nothing!” The four boys ranged in age from ten to fifteen and all had that guilty look of having nearly been caught with a Playboy. I turned my attention to the TV where there was some new video game system that I hadn’t seen yet.

“Ooh, can I play?” I was bored, and playing cheesy video games sounded better than listening to a bunch of blabbing women.

“No, we’re playing right now,” two of them yelled as I took a seat on the ground and curled my long legs up.

“I thought you boys said you were busy reading,” I said giving them a serious look while I tried to figure out the complex controls that consisted of a directional pad, and two red buttons, “Tell you what, I am going to play, while you boys sit there on that magazine.” Their guilt kept them from getting up.

I hit the start button and began flying through space shooting at an endless assault of things trying to kill me. Manipulating my spaceship through space suddenly only required the use of a few simple controls and it was impossible. It should be easy; instead, the computer was killing me faster than the NASA programmers during the thousands of simulations Collins and I were subjected to.

“Hahahaha, girls suck at games.” There was no way this ace pilot was going to be beaten by young pubescent boys who already had it in their heads they were superior. After a quick read of the manual, I was back in the action.

The older one whispered, “Typical chick, they always gotta read the instructions.” His sense of superiority faded not long after I had my ship fully powered up. Aided by two round orbs following me around, my increased firepower crushed the enemy as I dodged an endless barrage of enemy fire. Instead of conceding to my superior piloting skills, they began tormenting me the same as the home team fans torment the goalkeeper into missing the puck. After I reached the fourth stage, I had had enough and walked out. As I stepped into the hall, my hearing caught a faint whimper coming from the dark room. Quietly I homed in on the sound, the sound of a child sobbing. Before turning the lights on, I scanned the room picking up a small white shape on the ground in the back corner of the room. I turned the lights on and walked across the room. There, curled up in a ball was a little girl about six to eight years old. Her arms, supported by her knees, were wrapped around her head. She was wearing a red and green plaid dress and white stockings. I couldn’t see her face, but she had black hair with a little red headband. She looked as alone as I was feeling in this huge house busting at the seams with not-so-jolly people.

“Hi there,” I said trying to establish my first friend of the night, “Do you have a name?” She tightened her huddle preventing me from gaining access to her face. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to get through to her, I switched from playing hero to victim.

“Everyone is so mean to me. I am going to stay here too if you don’t mind.” After a few minutes of pretending to cry, curled up in my own ball, she picked her head up and slowly came over to me. Raising my head I looked at her coming over to me. She was a very cute girl, a beautiful mix of white and Asian. She saw my face and smiled at me.

“Will you play with me?” she asked with a sad look on her face.

“Only if you tell me your name.”

“Ayumi,” she said in a really cute voice with a hint of accent.

“Ayumi, that’s a pretty name. My name is Karen.” I held my hand out to shake. It had been a while, but my parental experience was coming back recalling the times I spent with my own daughter.

“How old are you, Ayumi?” She held up her hands and displayed seven digits.

“Seven,” she said, and never stopped. She just kept talking and talking, happy to finally have someone pay attention to her. In the short twenty minutes we spent together, I learned all about her, the entire time picturing Ashley’s face in place of hers. My moment of feeling like my daughter had been returned to me and all was normal again, was interrupted by a slight scratching sound. I turned to the door and saw half of Megan’s face peering around the door frame. Her smile was back.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough, my friend; long enough.” I was about to say something when I heard someone calling.

“Ayumi-chan, imasuka?” Megan turned and waved someone into the room. A short Asian woman, obviously Japanese, walked into the room calling for her daughter. As she passed by, Megan followed her into the room and stood beside us.

“This is Natsuko, Ronan’s wife,” Megan said beginning the introductions as I started standing, coming face to face with Ayumi’s mother somewhere between my squatted position and fully erect. Her eyes tracked my face as I continued to stand upright, forcing her head to tilt back as she was now looking up at me.

“Eh! Seiga takai desune.” She said to herself with an astonishing look on her face. I started laughing knowing exactly what she said. She switched to English and introduced herself, “I’m Natsuko, but everyone calls me Summer.” Her English was good and had an impressive vocabulary, but her pronunciation needed a little work. Instead, I bowed and dished out my rusty Japanese that had been dormant in my brain since the beginning of my Air Force days.

“Natsuko-san hajimemashite. Boku wa Kaa-Ren desu. Yuroshiku oneigai shimasu.” I conjugated the pronunciation of Karen into the Japanese sound system, pronouncing the way my alien name should sound. Her face gave away her surprise of me being able to speak her language, but a look of embarrassment filled the same face afraid she insulted me by commenting on my tall stature.

“How you speak Japanese?” She said really meaning ask where I learned Japanese. I held up my hand and put my thumb and index finger close together.

“Boku wa nihongo ga chotto hanashimasu.” I said confessing I didn’t really know that much. She started giggling a little.

“Eh! Nihongo ga joozu desune.” She switched back to English, “You have very good pronunciation, but you should say ‘atashi wa’, not ‘boku wa.’ Uman say ”atashi wa”, men use “boku wa”. Wakaru?” That was embarrassing; I never became that proficient in speaking. Others thought I was fluent when I introduced myself, but my Japanese quickly fell apart after that. I simply forgot after all these years that their society is very male-dominated and women have their own way to speak. Beyond a casual conversation, it is almost required, especially in business. I thanked her for correcting me as Megan announced it was time for dinner. My two new friends escorted me to the family table while Megan rounded up the rest of the stragglers.

_________

Ashley was sound asleep in her bed. With the rations Dwayne found, Liz felt better about having feasting on extra rations. The excessive food helped knock Ashley out early, so Liz and Dwayne could get started. Liz quietly closed the door behind her motioned to Dwayne that it was all clear. He returned to the main door and opened it to retrieve the small tree he left behind. Half of its green color was gone, leaving behind dried brown remains. It was still dripping wet from when he hosed it off, but a little water wasn’t going to hurt anything inside. Liz came to the door and saw what he had.

“Oh wow, a tree!” It was the first vegetation she had seen in several months.

“I’m sorry; it’s not much, but it’s still got a little life in it.”

“I don’t care how brown it looks, it’s perfect. You thought of everything. There is going to be one happy child tomorrow morning, and it’s all your doing.”

“Is she the only one that will be happy?” Liz looked up at Dwayne.

“Of course I’m happy. I’m sorry I can be very distant sometimes and not show my appreciation for all you do. It’s -” Dwayne put his finger up to her lip to silence her.

“Liz, you don’t have to apologize. I’m not ignorant as to what’s happened to you and all you are going through. If you weren’t depressed and grieving Michael, I would think something was seriously wrong with you. I’m a big man; you don’t need to worry about me. The fact that you two are safe is all I need from you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead followed by a hug drawing her short body close to his. After a short embrace, he broke the connection and whispered for her to stay put while he went into the supply closet. After a minute he returned with a bottle of wine.

“Wanna celebrate a little?” he said, holding up a bottle of Merlot. Without giving a verbal reply to the question, Liz showed her approval by grabbing two metal cups. Dwayne expertly peeled off the foil and pulled the cork in a smooth motion that made a maá®tre d' at a fancy restaurant look like an amateur. He let the expensive bottle of wine breathe a minute before pouring a little for Liz to taste. He could have been pouring her wine out of a box for all she cared. Liz couldn’t tell the difference between a good wine and old grape juice. She was able to sense, however, that this was not from his everyday collection, but from his reserved rack.

“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly toasting her. After downing their first glass, they got to work moving the tree into place. Liz unpacked the sole strand of lights and wrapped it around the tree.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find any paper to wrap this stuff up with,” Dwayne said apologizing.

“Dwayne, this is amazing. She is going to be thrilled in the morning. She was so cute the other day when I told her we wouldn’t be able to have Christmas. You know what she said? She said she didn’t need anything as long as she has us.” Liz told the story, embellishing a little to include their protector.

“She’s a great kid, Liz; you and Michael have done well with her. How is she coping otherwise?”

“You mean regarding her father? She is sad sometimes, but she handles it much better than I do.” They finished setting the presents around the mangy, half-dead pine tree and took a seat on the couch. She poured him another cup full of wine and he returned the favor by taking the bottle from her and filled her cup. They sat in silence drinking enjoying the faint smell of the evergreen slowly filling their concrete home with the pleasant holiday aroma.

“Thank you,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him. The soft kiss turned into two followed by a much longer third. She backed off after the third and sat there in silence. She stood up finished the last of her cup then reached out for Dwayne’s hand.

“Come on; I have a Christmas present for you.” She said as she led him to the bedroom.

- - Christmas Morning - -

A year ago, Megan, the rest of the crew and I celebrated Christmas en route to our destination. We were almost three-quarters of the way when we took a day off from our daily mission run-throughs. We double-, even triple-dipped on our lousy food rations, but in light of the atmosphere, we had fun. Mission Control ran a local radio station feed allowing us to listen to some Christmas carols while we celebrated. Collins spent his time sharing the reason for the season, while his arch nemesis, Dr. Shephard, explained how Christ wasn’t even born in December and that how Christmas was nothing but a collection of pagan holidays. Despite the awkwardness of their debate, we nevertheless enjoyed the special day as best as we could.

I did receive one Christmas miracle, as December 24th fell on my day of the week in which sleep would come to me for a while. The excessive amounts of food and alcohol consumed at the McCormack family Christmas dinner helped put my body into an extra slumber. I woke up the next morning to the sound of Megan walking down the hall into the kitchen.

“Hey sleepy, Merry Christmas,” she said smacking my butt with the newspaper as she walked into the family room, “get your shoes off my couch!” Suddenly aware I had passed out on the couch, I sat up and saw that I was still wearing my clothes from last night.

“What time is it?” Blinking a couple times, I found the clock above the fireplace and saw it was 8 am.

“Oh wow, I got about seven hours of sleep.” I stood up and stretched.

“What time did you get home?” I asked. My time with Ayumi and Natsuko made the night better. Natsuko was thrilled to have someone not only interested in communicating with her, but someone that had an interest in her culture. She was even more surprised to find out where I received my exposure to Japanese culture. Most of Megan’s family loved her and thought she was a very proper woman for their son, but she was different than your typical McCormack and therefore was still an outsider.
As much as I enjoyed having to return the favor and give the time of day, I was becoming depressed thinking of my own two girls and had to leave.

“I got home about midnight. I saw you crashed on the couch and just couldn’t bring myself to waking you.” She giggled a little, staring at me. “I love the hair.” I reached up to feel around, only to remember I let Ayumi style my hair into pigtails. My fingers struggled to grasp the rubber bands to that I could free my thick hair from their bondage. “Leave it for a little while; I think you look cute.”

“Megan, the last thing I want is to look cute.” It was just the two of us, so instead of resisting, I let it be for a while.

“I’m sorry last night didn’t go as I thought. My sister was being her typical self and I’m sorry. I thought it would be good for you to be around some safe people. Maybe if it had been a smaller crowd. Still, my brother said Natsuko and Ayumi enjoyed talking with you.”

“Last night did suck. Rayme announcing to the table I needed to eat more, then, after me overeating, her telling your cousin I was going to purge it into the toilet later really pissed me off. Who the hell does she think she is? I didn’t do shit to her.”

“I’m really sorry; it’s not something you did. She is insecure and has a lot of her own issues. You are very naturally beautiful and she saw you as competition.”

“Look, I had no interest in her boyfriend, or one for that matter.”

“I know that, but it’s not so much over her boyfriend. She has worked hard to look the way she does, and maintaining that image is her obsession. She doesn’t like herself much. She was jealous of your looks and she said those terrible things to make herself feel better. If it makes you feel any better, I let her have a piece of my mind after you left. Her antics don’t work on me, and I unleashed hell. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you for doing that, but don’t cause any rift over me. Besides, the night wasn’t all lost. I think I know where I lost the crystal. Remember the plane encounter I told you about? I crashed into a corn field in the Midwest somewhere, and I think it fell out in the crash. My mind can remember so much, but when I stress out I can’t think straight. It took your mom’s announcement at dinner about how the lack of corn ruined the harvest to remind me.”

“Michael, that’s great! Do you think you can find it?”

“I don’t know; I didn’t even know what state I was in, but I remember some landmarks that could help. In a few hours I am going out to look.”

“Well I wish you success. Tell you what, let’s enjoy Christmas morning a little first. Come on.” She led me to the family room where the tree was. I took her stocking off the mantle and handed it to her.

"Here, Merry Christmas." First order of business was to get the gag gifts out of the way. It was a tradition all of us on the crew had; birthdays and holidays we would go out on a limb to find the silliest of gifts, yet something personal. Megan pulled out a large flat package wrapped in holiday giftwrap. She tore the paper away to reveal some kind of arts and crafts package. On the front were little spacemen, a space shuttle, rocket ships and other space vehicles. She read the cover.

"Shrinky Dinks: Space. That’s pretty cute." She read the cover a second time and processed it in her mind a second before laughing out loud, "Oh I get it, hahahaha. ‘Shrink’y Dinks. For the space shrink. Very funny. I think you just outdid yourself, Michael.” I laughed along with her, impressed at my creativity.

"OK, your turn," she said as she went over to the mantle. She was about to reach out for the lone stocking hanging up, when she suddenly bent down to pick something up off the floor behind the chair. As she stood up, she turned and held up a woman’s nylon stocking filled with packages wrapped in gift wrap clearly meant for a girl.

“Payback’s a bitch, don’t you agree?” She said as I timidly took hold of the silky smooth unorthodox Christmas stocking and began to unpack its contents. “Open this one first,” she said pointing at the smaller package. It was a long rectangular shape and had a little weight to it. As I shook it sizing it up something slid back and forth inside. Nervously, I tore the package open to find it was a box of toothpaste. I stood there with a confused look on my face as Megan started smiling.

“Go on open it up.” I followed her instructions and opened the box of toothpaste as she started laughing. Instead of a long tube of dental hygienic formula that 9 out of 10 dentists approve, two “C” cell Copper Tops slipped out. She struggled through her laughter to instruct me it was safe to open the larger package. At this point, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was coming next. It was her turn to laugh to the point of suffocation as her hysterics were slowly starving her brain of precious oxygen and my turn to turn bright red as I peeled the paper away.

“Michael, you may think you can explore any part of the world in a flash, but there is one world where you are going need a little help reaching new heights. Oh, and speed won’t help you much.” She was rolling on the floor laughing her ass off as I stood there reading the box.

“Touché,” I said, wishing I had kept my mouth shut the other day. “The Cosmic Rocket.” Well wasn’t she was a riot? It looked rather large and was colored pink with black markings similar to the ones on the Saturn V rockets.

“Come one Michael, laugh a little. It’s our tradition; it’s not serious. I loved watching you laugh and smile the other day. Kaaren has such a pretty smile; besides, it was good seeing you happy for once.” She was right; even if it was at her expense, it was great laughing like that. Life hadn’t given me much lately to laugh at. Those couple of minutes where I almost rupture internal organs, I felt almost like a normal human again.

“Come here,” she said has she put her arms around me. “I know you’re sensitive to this stuff. Don’t ever think I am pressuring you into anything you are not comfortable with, ok?” It was relieving to know I was under no pressure to us this new toy, so I lightened up and took it for what it was, our age-old prank.

“Well played; very well played.” She picked up another package and handed it to me. It was a rather large box, like the type that usually contain the dreaded holiday sweater with a knit reindeer on the front.

“I have something serious for you, something that I think you will rather enjoy wearing.” I was having trouble believing I would enjoy wearing anything she bought me. Slowly I tore the paper away. Under the paper was a plain brown cardboard box. I removed the lid, worried about what I would find. There was a layer of red tissue paper folded over something soft underneath. Pulling the paper away, I saw before me a silky red teddy and lingerie set.

“Are you kidding me?” I said as she started giggling again.

“I’m sorry; this was my original gag gift before you inspired me the other day. Keep digging. I pulled the sexy garments that were designed for the sole purpose of being removed from a woman’s body out of the box and tossed them to her.

“Here, go try them on for me,” I said laughing while exploring the rest of the box for other embarrassing items. In the middle was a plain black box made out of stiff cardboard. Megan looked really excited as I opened the box to discover its contents.

“Are you serious? Oh my god, how awesome is this? That cute smile of Megan’s was lighting up her face as she fed off my excitement.

“I take it you like it?”

“Like it? I love it! Where on earth did you get this?” I said taking it out and trying it on. It was a little large on my slender wrist, but its usefulness was essential.

“I had some help from Sean, he knew right away what I was looking for, but remained clueless as to why I really wanted it. Turns out they make them for hikers, skydivers and hang gliders.” Of course, I couldn’t believe I didn’t think of this before. The main large section was a barometric altimeter that would measure up to 40,000 feet, while the smaller section measured my vertical airspeed. Attached to the band was a compass that would allow easier navigation. While all these instruments would be useless at high speeds and extreme altitudes, they would be beneficial under normal flight conditions.

“Thank you so much; that is an incredible gift. I can’t believe you thought of this.” With all the planes I have dived out of over the years, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this.

“Michael, it’s my job to listen to everything people tell me and analyze it. Even when you don’t think I am listening, I am. Part of it is just being a woman; we are really good at listening.” Megan was right; she and most other women were great at listening to others. This was something, regardless of which gender group I belonged to, I needed to improve on.

- - Christmas Morning in the Shelter - -

“Dwayne, it’s Christmas. Why do you have to go out?” Liz pleaded with him to stay and be together on this holiday.

“Liz, I would love to, but it’s a different world that the one we used to live in. Our survival demands I don’t get any holidays. There has been some faint chatter on the radio. I want to try boosting the power of the antenna. Think about it. If I can find some other survivors, we might have better chances. It will be a better life for Ashley if there are other kids her age.” Liz couldn’t argue with his reasoning. Again, he was right. She only hoped the other survivors out there were friendly and not the kind she needed the shotgun for.

“You two have a good day. Ash, have fun with your new games. Bye Liz; I will be at Site “B” most of the day. Hopefully soon I can find a pair or working radios so we can keep in touch while I am out. Until then, you two are perfectly safe and have enough provisions in case I don’t come back. You be strong.” Dwayne reached over and kissed her on the cheek and gave Ashley a hug.

“Thank you, Dwayne,” Ashley said to him in appreciation of the gifts he brought her.
“Don’t thank me. It was Santa; he knows how good of a girl you have been for your mother. Keep being sweet.” He pulled the suit up and over his head. Liz helped him zip it up and seal it shut. He picked up his bag and turned to open the door. The lights came on as he turned one last time waving goodbye to the two girls seeing him off.
After a brief struggle with the heavy door, Dwayne sealed the door. He climbed a steep flight of stairs and opened a slightly less heavy door; exiting and re-sealing that. Stepping into the outer part of the bunker there was a one final short flight of steps leading to a set of wooden doors which he swung open to exit into the outside. He looked up into the sky and saw a faint bright spot hanging low in the sky barely penetrating the thick clouds. The rubber suit was getting cold as the suit was rapidly adjusting to the frigid temperatures outside. Dwayne closed the wooden doors and headed towards his Jeep Cherokee 4x4. He tossed his bag into the passenger seat then turned towards the house twenty yards away.

After unlocking the front door, he stepped inside and turned on the lights, looking around the room. Dwayne, all alone, unzipped the suit and threw it on the ground in the entry way. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a six pack from the fridge and popped the first bottle open. He hated putting that stupid suit on every time he left only to take it right off again. Before returning, he would reverse the process, putting it back on. Before descending into the bunker, he would dowse it with the garden hose before going back down below only to take it off again. The charade was a lot of work, especially when he brought groceries, toys and other treats for the two voluntarily living in his shelter. Much work went into making sure what he brought them didn’t appear as if he had bought them at the local grocery store.

He never meant for it to get to this. In the beginning, he wanted nothing more than to be the hero and actually save Michael’s family. He loved Liz from the first day he met her and was jealous of Michael. He hated that Michael got command while he was stuck on the ground, the extent of his heroics, communicating with the crew who were actually immortalizing themselves into the annals of human history. When the place went on lockdown and it became apparent the government wasn’t going to tell the public that the Deliverance failed, he broke protocol and rescued Liz and Ashley. They were camped down and ready for the Apocalypse. He was their hero, their savior. and if felt great to be needed. When he learned of the miracle and the disaster was adverted, he returned to tell them the news. For some reason he lied keeping them there for another day and another and another until he started believing himself that the end of the world did indeed happen as Liz and Ashley knew it.

After all these years of being second to Michael, Michael’s life was all his, including Michael’s wife and daughter. Michael was gone and would never be back. As long as Liz thought there was a danger of radiation, she would stay down there. The asteroid releasing radiation was completely false, but she trusted his expertise and research into biospheres and living in harsh conditions. Since the first nuclear detonation in 1945, high levels of radiation instilled a certain level of fear of the slow painful death it caused. It was enough to keep Liz put, and he didn’t need to worry about locking the doors to keep her from leaving. Eventually, he won’t be able to keep this fantasy running. His pretend world had a two year time limit and would eventually force him into making a decision. He shook his head and put off those worries. He would cross that hurdle when the time draws nearer. Right now, things were finally starting to get good; Liz’s depression and loneliness was getting her open up to him a little. All he had to do was come home with a bag of goodies that kept her daughter happy, and she gave herself freely, not having anything else to offer him in appreciation. The best part is she came voluntarily and no one has a clue where she is. Dwayne fell back on the couch, turned on the football game, ready to enjoy his Christmas Day before heading out to the many dinner parties later in the day. Life was bliss.

To Be Continued....Episode 9 “Needle in a Haystack” Coming soon Mid December 2012 (but sometime before the end of the world)

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