We had no time to prepare. Just lucky we were on the outskirts of the blast’s kill zone; how fortunate we were to have not been vaporized on the spot. Except, come to think of it, more than a few of us have daydreamed of switching places with the dead at this point.

… two … one … impact.

My ears are ringing and out of no where, the world’s taking on an odd greyish orange haze. One minute it’s a clear day on the farm; the next I can’t see ten feet in front of me. It’s the girls’ screams that snap me back into reality. We have got to get to the bunker. Now.

My legs are pumping hard against the dirt path as I set my aim to the front of the barn. The girls were just playing there in the soft soil, rolling about the ground beside the open barn door. The wind begins picking up light debris, like sticks and clumps of grass, carrying them to and fro. Beyond the giant decrescendo of a BOOM… a low groan now seems to rise from the earth.

Fuuuuuck, I hope Teddy is comin’ home reeeal soon, she thought.

I scoop up Barb as she’s hollering her head off, understandably. Two paces later and I’ve got Hazel pressed roughly to my turning stomach. She’s the opposite of Barb, stone silent and not unlike a small sack of potatoes. I will address both of the children’s needs as soon as we’re locked in, she thinks to herself so she can feel like she’s a good mom. Gently depositing the kids beside her, she begins tossing clumps of hay and dirt to the wayside. The worn barn is shaking considerably; the old bones haven’t been stress tested like this in her lifetime, and she’s not holding up too great. Luckily, it is this apparent nature of the barn that is why it’s mostly empty. A few small pieces of equipment, the odd bale and pail, you know. All the standard farm oddities… and the secret bunker entrance. Which is sounding intensely less insane with every passing second.