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way’. That somehow it wasn’t a global conflict, and nuclear war hadn’t wiped out civilization. The news said, ‘nine bombs’. What if only ten or eleven bombs exploded? Then that meant a major part of the country would still be intact. They would unify, aid, and rescue.
    It was possible.
    Not probable.
    The problem was we were in the dark all the way around.

    As an amusement mechanism, Davy and Simon began holding their urine. Causing themselves discomfort to the point that they’d wiggle and dance about in order not to let loose. The constant verbal exchange of, ‘I got to go. No hold it’, escalated to ‘don’t make me laugh, I’ll pee my pants’. Self torture all for the heightened moment, when the two of them stood above the open drain pipe seeing who could better aim their power stream. I guessed the game would be the first of many ‘off-centered’ things they’d find fun and exciting while in the shelter.

    It wasn’t long after the late morning water battle between the boys, when it happened. Where some people would label them ‘idiot lapses’, I called them my ‘blonde moments’. Episodes that happened rarely, but when they did, they were doozies.
    How many times had Simon asked me for a can of soda? Too many to count. I turned him down every time, increasingly adding annoyance to my voice over his persistence to have a cola that didn’t exist.
    I was messing around with the Geiger counter when Simon asked me again.
    “Can I, Aunt Jo?”
    “No, Simon.”
    “I’ll share with Davy.”
    “Simon ... ” I huffed out, my eyes still locked on the Geiger counter gauge. “No.”
    He said, “Fine.” He breathed on me in a frustrated way and stormed off.
    I shook my head at him until I heard it.
    ‘Snap’. Fizz.
    I peered up. Simon was drinking from a can of soda. “Oh, my God.” I jumped up. “Simon, where did you get that?”
    The brown substance dripped from his mouth and chin, and in the midst of a loud burp far too huge to come from his small body, Simon pointed ... to the basement refrigerator.
      Was I stupid? Blind? How did I miss the hulking, ancient white box? How did I forget about it? It wasn’t like I never used it. I did. It was my refrigerator storage space for items that didn’t fit in my kitchen fridge. Such as the soda Simon consumed.
    As if it were Christmas, I raced with enthusiasm to the refrigerator and flung it open. I suppose Simon was lost as to why I shrieked. To him, the contents of the fridge were nothing new. To me, I felt as if I found a buried treasure. No less than a case of orange soda was in there, eight cans of cola, some beer, and other food items. Of course, some of the things, if not most, would not be viable. What was still good, had to be eaten right away.
    I grabbed the bag of carrots. My fullest intent was to peel them, and have them as a snack. I allotted a cup of water for washing, and then I took them aside and began to prepare them. Although washing and peeling was unnecessary, it gave me something to do.
    More than likely I looked insane to the boys. After all, I was elated with joy over the discovery of soda and carrots. Amused was an understatement; I couldn’t stop laughing at my stupidity with the fridge.
    Little did I know, my ‘fridge blonde’ moment was not the last for the day. The afternoon could have been called the ‘Simon Shines’ hour. Because if it wasn’t for Simon, not only wouldn’t we have carrots, we wouldn’t have heard it at all.
    I almost cut my finger when I heard the static of the radio. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Simon. His tiny body squatted by the radio, hand reaching for it.
    “Simon, don’t touch that.”
    “I want to talk to the man.”
    “That’s not a man, Simon, that’s a radio.”
    Simon was insistent. “I want to talk to the man.”
    I peered across the basement to Davy who was organizing the new fridge finds. “Davy, can you get Simon away from ... ”
    Static.
    “Cycle two. Hourly