Unexpectedly, my laptop rebooted and displayed an ominous image and a more ominous warning.
I stared at the screen, surprisingly unconcerned that the work I’d been doing had disappeared.
If this was real…who cared if I reviewed that new coffeemaker?
My chest tightened, a sure sign of an imminent asthma attack, so I took two quick pulls on my inhaler, grabbed a notebook and started making a list.
“Damn it, woman, you don’t have time for a list!” I dropped the pen and got moving.
Within the hour, I had packed bags for myself and my 2-year-old daughter, stuffed coolers with ice and food, bagged up dry goods and dog food and loaded the van.
Once the baby and the dog were aboard and strapped in, I started the van, raised the garage door and backed out. I expected to see my neighbors doing the same, but the street was quiet–not unusual for this time on a Wednesday. Pushing the control button, I watched the garage door descend before leaving.
“Where go, Mama?” Georgia asked in her tiny voice.
“Cabin,” I replied.
“Fishy, fishy!” Georgia clapped her hands.
The gas station was busy, but not crazily so. Was no one else warned?
With a full gas tank and a giant coffee, I expected to see an exodus leaving the city, but traffic was light. The baby shared cookies with Rufus, her Golden Lab “brother”. I searched the radio for news.
We arrived at the cabin several hours later. I fed everyone. We went to sleep.
Sometime during the night, the city exploded in a giant fireball launched from God-knows-where by God-knows-whom.
No warning on radio or internet. So who’d warned me?
I thought: Roy!
But he died before Georgia was born…
Once again, Writers Unite! ignites a tale with a prompt.