From the Pen of Sarah Brighton

March 26 The War Begins
         Today is a day that will live in infamy. I sit here huddled in an army issue wool blanket shivering and writing these words in some sort of stunned silence wondering just what has happened. I close my eyes and I can't even remember life as it was just...could it possibly have been this morning?
         This morning I awoke as Sarah Brighton. 23 year old Boston University student, engaged to be married, bright future ahead of her Sarah Brighton. At this moment I am Sarah Brighton, Boston survivor, cold, hungry, confused and uncertain of any future at all.
         There are 12 of us here. Dr. Stutzman, a university music professor is generally keeping things in order. I don't really know the others. They are most likely students of the university like me. Everybody is in a state of shock and panic. There is a television here in the shelter. The emergency broadcast system sent out instructions and an address by the president from his bunker in Washington. So it seems the entire planet has been destroyed. Basically what the president was telling us is that they may have gotten us but we got them too.
         I can't stop thinking about Tom and where he might have been or whether he managed to survive. I hold onto some slim hope that he too has found himself in a shelter somewhere. I tried calling him from my cell phone but the cell phones aren't working properly which is no big surprise really.
         Professor Stutzman is gathering us together now. I think he wants to find out who we all are. I was never in one of his classes but I have seen him around campus. He is a tall skinny man with a dark complexion. He looks to be in his late forties or early fifties his dark but graying beard well groomed and stately. I am glad that there is somebody here with a sound enough mind to organize things God help us if we were left to anarchy.
         I can't help but feel like crying for all the lost lives. Am I now alone or could Tom, My parents and my sister Beth possibly still be alive somewhere? God please help us!

March 27 Conflicts Arise
         I sit here in what I have designated to be my corner. It's nothing really other than a spot along the hard cold concrete walls of the shelter. There are no windows and if not for my watch I would not even know that a day has passed. The shelter is a long narrow corridor with a large double door at one end. The entrance that is now sealed and bolted shut lies just beyond those double doors. It has been explained as something of an extra security layer to keep out the radiation. At the opposite end there is a series of shelves running lengthwise with supplies of various kinds. That area is actually the largest area of the shelter rows and rows of food water and clothing among other things. We the survivors are lined up along the concrete walls on each side of the corridor. We have our little makeshift resting places you can't really call them beds. The lighting is poor. Several caged bulbs give off an eerie yellow light. So far the lights have been on continually.
         I was formally introduced to my fellow survivors. Dr. Stuzman the music professor had us tell each other our names and a bit about ourselves as if it was the first day of a new class being held by him.
         There are 12 of us total. Besides Dr. Stuzman and myself there are as follows; Ruth a grad student with long straight brown hair and a big nose. She seems so aloof jabbering along as if she knows exactly what to do in a situation like this almost like she’s quoting a text book. Who knows she probably is. Then there is Craig he is a big blonde fellow, kind of chubby and clean shaven. He doesn't speak much at all sits there in his spot against the wall staring into space in disbelief. Next to Craig along the wall is Jim. Jim used to be in the military and talks with a southern accent. He argues with Ruth sometimes and I can tell that he resents her know it all attitude. Jim seems angry and I think he has a mean streak in him. I am sure glad I am not alone with him. Last night after most of us had either fallen asleep or were zoned out in a tired stunned sorrow, I overheard Jim arguing with Dr. Stutzman about a gun locker. Apparently there are a few firearms locked in it and Jim wanted Dr, Stutzman to give him one. Dr. Stutzman denied Jim's request insisting that there was no need for anyone to have a gun right now. Jim was angry and at first I thought he was going to fly into a blind rage. I hid myself underneath my scratchy wool blanket as Jim threw his tirade. Dr. Stutzman stood his ground and Jim resigned himself to brooding in one of the cold dark corners.
         Next to me is Pam. Pam is a grief stricken soft spoken red head that hasn't stopped crying since the emergency broadcast. From what I have gathered from the unending sobs is that she has a small daughter who was at daycare. Her sobs haunt the whole cavern and echo along the concrete walls. Nancy keeps trying to comfort Pam. Nancy is a woman in her mid-forties. Nancy is very motherly and helpful. She was a cashier/advisor in the admissions building across campus. She admits that even though she doesn't usually drink coffee she was feeling a bit fatigued and decided to stop by the cafeteria for a cup of Joe. The bomb shelter was coincidentally near the cafeteria and on any normal morning she would have never made it.
         Pete and Bobbi inhabit the wall space across from me. They are a young married couple. Whispering to each other holding each other close and sobbing they spent the entire night trying to use their cell phones in vain to contact family members. Pete is a clean cut looking guy dressed in a business suit. Bobbi his wife looks as if she is normally a perky energetic person with short brown hair and big green eyes that are now red and puffy with tears. Jenna is to Pete and Bobbi's right that is to say on Bobbi's side. Jenna looks young. I don't know her exact age but she looks to be high school aged. Jenna hasn't said much. Upon introducing herself she barely divulged her name let alone anything else. Jenna hasn't eaten anything yet. She declined the ration that Dr. Stuzman offered to her.
          Next to Jenna is Bob. Bob to make an understatement is a large man. Not just overweight but truly obese. He heaves heavy sighs and has a look of extreme helplessness upon his over sized jowls. Lastly there is Lucy. Lucy is a true New Englander to the core. She is like our cheerleader a little firecracker full of enthusiasm. Only she and Jenna are smaller than me in stature. Lucy nods her head covered in unruly black curly hair and says, "It's going to be all right people!" optimistically she tells us how all we have to do is, "make it through the fall out." Her dark eyes dart around the room daring anyone to contradict her. She says that a special Army truck will come get us and take us out somewhere in the Rocky Mountains where there will be an organized center for putting families back together and finding loved ones. She swears by it. I fear most of my fellow survivors me included do not fully share in Lucy's optimism.
         I can't stop thinking about Tom. I want him to be here. I want him to hold me close and tell me that things will be all right. I can close my eyes really tight and imagine just for a moment that he is here. Tom please be alive! God please reunite me with my lover who can take away my pains and fears. God where are you now? Can you hear our suffering?

April 1 Divide and Conquer and a Cracker
         The past week has been so busy; I have hardly had a moment to relax. Dr. Stutzman has put us all to work. We've constructed make shift rooms for each of us, so I write today from the privacy of my own little cubicle and sleeping quarters.
         All of the extra clothing stored in the shelter is olive drab like army fatigues. Even the smallest sizes are baggy on me. I look like a scarecrow. We are on a strict water ration so there's limited bathing and laundry. I feel really gross and uncomfortable.
         The supplies have been declared off limits except for at designated times. This is because we suspect that somebody has stolen a box of canned pudding desserts. Jim who looks even more threatening than ever with a weeks worth of scraggly black beard growth, was quick to accuse Bob. He ridiculed the obese man shouting in his face demanding that he confess. Poor Bob nearly in tears swore he was innocent of the crime. Pete and Dr. Stutzman were able to get Jim to back down this time, but I'm afraid that it’s only a matter of time before Jim goes too far hurts somebody. Ruth, Nancy, Lucy, and I approached Dr. Stutzman, who has shouldered the heavy burden of responsibility of leadership, to discuss our concerns about Jim. We didn't come to a solution, but we all agreed that Jim's malcontent and violent demeanor would continue to cause trouble for us.
         I have been keeping my mouth shut because I don't want to start an incident, but I have a little knowledge about the stolen pudding. Jenna's new sleeping quarters are right next to mine. I accidentally stepped into her private room this morning. Jenna was sitting indian style upon her new bed eating one of the missing cans of pudding. Our eyes met and I stood there in an awkward silence for a moment. Apologizing, I began to turn around and Jenna said to me, "It's not what you think." The first words I heard her say since revealing her name on the first day in the shelter when Dr. Stutzman had us introduce ourselves. There was a reasonable doubt in my mind. Maybe she didn't act alone. Maybe she was only an accomplice, perhaps even unwittingly. I turned around not fully sure what to say. Jenna had this look on her face that seemed to say, "I know you don't believe me and I know that you're going to sell me out because that's what everybody has done throughout my entire life." Jenna was still wearing the clothes she had on when we first entered the shelter, all black and baggy with chains hanging from pockets and belt loops. Her nostrils flared, and for the first time I noticed the little blue stud; she had a nose ring in her left nostril. I could tell she was holding back tears. After the incident with Jim, I didn't feel like starting confrontation and interrogation. There was more to this mystery than a girl eating stolen pudding. Jenna's plea hung in the air. I had to say something so I said, "I believe you." I fled the scene after that.
         Late last night, when I found some solitude upon my bed made up of scratchy wool blankets, I cried harder than I ever had in my entire life. The realization of the situation began to set in. Would it have been better if I had ignored the sirens and continued to my Economics class and perished with everyone else? Tom is most likely dead. The man I promised to marry just a couple short months ago over a romantic candle lit dinner. My mother would have been drinking her morning coffee....would she have even heard a siren? Beth at school, Dad at work, would either of them have had access to a shelter like this one? I write these words feeling frightened and alone, fragile and weak, a tiny light lost in a sea of darkness.

April 10 Ha! The Donner Party had it good!
         Each day seems to drag on like an endless nightmare. It has gotten steadily warmer here in the shelter. The stink of human perspiration is so common place now that we have all gotten used to the rank odor of our own bodies and accept it as a demand of our current survival.
         Another alarming trend has been the disappearance of more food. A case of canned fruit has been stolen from the stock room. Dr. Stutzman gathered us all together for a conference. After deliberating for nearly an hour, we have decided that two of us would stand guard in front of the storage room at all times. Jim used this opportunity to suggest that while on duty the men should be issued a firearm from the cabinet. Ruth took this as a sexist remark and demanded to know why a woman couldn't carry a gun. Dr. Stutzman settled this heated shouting match by declaring that under current circumstances nobody was going to carry a gun. Jim called Dr. Stutzman an old fool. Glaring at Bob with wild eyes he insinuated that certain "ones" among us weren't fit enough to survive. Jim started ranting and raving that we were all fools. He threatened to break the seal of the shelter and take his chances above ground. An argument exploded when Lucy stood up and shouted, "Good Riddance!" expressing her desire to have Jim take his malcontent elsewhere. Jim took a step towards Lucy and I swear he was going to strike her. Dr. Stutzman stepped in his path right at the last second. They yelled in each others faces. Jim in his high pitched and angry southern accent and Dr. Stutzman in a booming baritone, the voice of a singer and the voice of a professor accustomed to keeping order in a classroom. The physical edge belonged to Jim. Jim was younger and broad shouldered, military trained; he would easily win if it came to blows. We all stood there frozen in time. Pete finally being nudged by Bobbi stepped up beside Dr. Stutzman. Craig who over the past couple of weeks seemed to strike up a friendship with Pete stepped up as well. Craig doesn't look very threatening, but he's big. A Hefty man standing over six feet tall, Craig looks like a combination of the Jolly Green Giant and the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Jim noticed that the odds were turning against him so he stomped off to brood like a spoiled child that didn't get his way.
         I concentrated on Jenna during the meeting, hoping to see if she would betray some sort of clue about the theft after hearing that more food was missing, wasted time. Jenna acted bored and spent most of the time toying with one of the chains that hung from her pants. When Jim and Dr. Stutzman went nose to nose yelling at the top of their lungs, Jenna didn't even flinch. She had the appearance of absolute apathy.
         After the meeting, Bob started blathering nonsense. He hefted himself up and wandered around mumbling gibberish. He seemed to have forgotten where he was going. Drooling all over himself, Bob eventually managed to retire into his private quarters, which were slightly larger than the rest of ours because of his exceptional size, with Nancy’s kind assistance.
         Last night I stayed up and played cards with Pete, Bobbi and Craig. Bobbi had asked me to play, bored out of my mind, I accepted. It turned out to be a big mistake. Once I sat down at the table (I mean over turned storage crate with a space blanket draped over top) I felt uncomfortable. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I had been set up. As the game began, I noticed that Craig kept glancing my way allowing his eyes to rest on me for too long in an obvious stare. Pete and Bobbi talked about the future. They used Lucy's vision of the Rocky Mountains as the backdrop of their overly optimistic conversation. Craig fumblingly told me how pretty he thought I was. "EEW!" All I could think of was how I had to get out of this situation, but I had no excuses. There was nowhere for me to go, so I politely thanked him for the compliment and tried to keep silent. This didn't work. Craig thought the quiet shy act was cute or something. He cracked some lame joke about how this was like a double date. I wanted to puke. I cursed myself for getting suckered into this situation.
         While this transpired, Bob bumbled out of his room looking dejected and lost still mumbling nonsense. Pete shook his head. It wasn't an expression of pity or compassion, but one of disgust. Pete, Bobbi and Craig went on to discuss how sick it was for a person to allow themselves to get that fat. I felt like they were looking at me to agree. Bobbi's big green eyes were popping out of her head, so I nodded. Pete started talking about our current condition and how Bob could be hurting our chances of survival. I couldn't believe my ears. Bobbi and Craig were nodding in agreement to Pete's narrative. "You're sounding like Jim." I finally spoke up trying to defend the poor obese man. Bobbi gasped and came to the defense of her husband, shocked that I would put him in the same category as Jim. "After all," She said, "We probably would be better off without Bob." She went on a mini-tirade about how the fat man had no useful skills, could barely walk without holding onto the walls for support, was clearly losing his mind blathering about like an idiot, and in fact he was probably so unhealthy that it was only a matter of time before he had a heart attack and died. Bobbi was focused on this and went on to mention the difficulties the rest of us would have in dealing with the removal of a 500 lb. corpse. Pete and Craig kept nodding their heads as Bobbi ranted on. I didn't feel like arguing, I just really felt like wanting to puke. All out of sorts I began playing my cards wrong and lost the game. I quickly escaped from that nauseating situation.
         I'm sitting in the privacy of my room now, writing by candle light reflection on recent events. In three hours I go on food supply watch duty and by some sick and wrong twist of fate, I'm paired up with Craig. GAG!

April 12 Please, sir may I have some more … nuts and rebels?
         Yesterday morning at breakfast, we got into a discussion about how long we would have to remain underground. Dr. Stutzman admitted that there were at least a dozen crates of equipment that we hadn't gone through yet. Ruth believes that if we had a Geiger counter, we could learn how to test radiation levels. Even Jim didn't argue with her when she mentioned this possibility.
         I've noticed that our food has been going at an alarming rate, much faster than we had anticipated. I suggested that we cut down and only ration out two meals a day instead of three. Dr. Stutzman thought it was a good idea since we weren't sure yet just how long we were going to be down here.
         Ruth, Lucy and I accompanied Dr. Stutzman to the storage area to examine the crates for useful equipment. Jim, Pete and Craig went to the entrance to investigate the layout and brainstorm how we might set up a station for detecting radiation levels. Nancy and Bobbi took their turns on food supply guard duty. Pam and Jenna got kitchen clean up detail. Bob was still mumbling Gibberish, so we didn't ask him to do anything.
         We hadn't gone through much, when the three men who went to the entrance came stomping back, voices loud and animated. When they reached us deep in the storage room, Jim stepped forward as the vocal leader of the trio. He told us that the entrance had been breeched and that someone has been sneaking out to the surface. Ruth worried out loud for all of us the possibility that we were all being exposed to dangerous radiation levels since the entrance was breeched. The need to find a Geiger counter in the equipment crates became even more important. I asked Ruth if she knew of any signs of heavy radiation levels. She said that radiation is accompanied by high temperatures. I grew concerned because I had noticed the rise in heat since our arrival. Lucy lightened our moods with a funny narrative on the efficiency of the government. "Let's build a bomb shelter just in case there's a nuclear war....but make sure to place any useful equipment like, lets say, a Geiger counter for testing radiation levels, in the bottom of a dusty old storage crate!"
         We found the Geiger counter after an hour long dig through supplies, along with a half dozen radiation protection suits. After spending a few minutes familiarizing themselves with the equipment, Ruth and Dr. Stutzman conducted several tests around the shelter. It put our minds at ease when the results revealed safe levels. There are however, still a few very disturbing questions lingering in the air. Who has been stealing food rations? Who has breeched the entrance adventuring out of the shelter? If someone has traveled above ground and survived, how soon could we begin conducting investigations up there to possibly receive news of a rescue, perhaps find other survivors or at the very least accumulate more useable resources to prolong our survival.
         Last night we discussed these questions in detail. It resulted in yet another argument between Jim and Dr. Stutzman. Jim volunteered to go on an above ground exploration mission. He requested the use of one of the newly found radiation suits and a gun from the firearms cabinet which has remained locked, Dr. Stutzman possessing the only key. Dr. Stutzman wasn't convinced that we were ready for such an exploration. Ruth asked Jim point blank if he was the one that breeched the shelter entrance. Jim laughed saying he wasn't that stupid and that whoever it was that went wandering up without a proper protection suit on probably had radiation poisoning and was going to get sick and die. Even though Jim's a lose cannon and a potentially dangerous man, I don't believe he's the thief or the sneak. In fact I think his comment about the radiation poisoning was a clever ploy that he put out there to draw a possible emotional response from the sneak.
         Before going to bed, Bob took another stroll mumbling nonsense. Nancy tried to talk to him, but after following him as he stumbled around for several minutes attempting to communicate; she gave up and went to bed.
         This morning at breakfast, Bob didn't show up. I ate some freeze dried oatmeal. A few hours later my mouth went dry, my head started swimming, and my stomach doing queasy flip flops. I laid down in a cold sweat all afternoon. The only thing I can pin the symptoms to is the oatmeal. Is some of the food contaminated!?
         Just an hour ago, Nancy came to check up on me. I told her how I wasn't feeling well. She brought me up to speed on what was going on during the day. Bob was missing. Nobody had seen him all day so she decided to go to his room and check up on him. Only he wasn't there. They were organizing a search for him now. He couldn't have gone far, the shelter wasn't that big.
         I am sitting up now, for the first time since breakfast, writing these notes and thinking about my family that I haven't seen in more than two weeks now. I can't stop hoping. It's my sister Beth's 17th birthday. I wonder where she is, I wonder if she's even alive. Happy Birthday Beth, wherever you are tonight, may God be watching over you always.
Love,
Sarah

April 28 Does someone have to DIE to get some peace and quiet?
         Sixteen long and mysterious days have passed. Dr. Stutzman and Jim found Bob dead near the entrance of the shelter, early in the morning of April 13th. At first we believed that he had a heart attack or died due to some other health related cause. The evidence soon proved otherwise. First of all there was a lot of blood. When the men, with some difficulty I might add, donned radiation suits and removed Bob’s body from the shelter, they discovered deep cuts on his body, cuts that couldn’t have been self inflicted. Bob was murdered.
         During the following weeks, Dr. Stutzman and Jim seemed to find an understanding between them. Jim quit asking for a gun, and the two men ceased to argue. Ruth tried to goad Jim a couple of times, but he wouldn’t take the bait.
         Pete, Bobbi and Craig have been whispering amongst each other in the dark corners of the shelter. I don’t know if it’s because they have a secret to hide, or if it is merely because they have grown suspicious of everyone else.
         I am still recovering from my illness. I have been functioning as a normal person again, but it still effects me sometimes. The stale air of the shelter doesn’t help. Last week, Jim approached me about my sickness. He wanted to make sure that it wasn’t radiation poisoning that I was suffering from. I still believe it was only a case of a bad food ration, but Jim had suspected me of being the person that had been sneaking out of the shelter, linking my illness with the effects of going above without a proper radiation suit. I assured him that it wasn’t me. I think he wanted to believe me, but I could tell he wasn’t 100% convinced.
         There continues to be no news on the emergency broadcast. The radio only retrieves static. The cell phones have long since been useless, batteries having gone dead. As a month of captivity officially goes by, we struggle to keep our hopes up. The theft of food supplies has stopped. The guard duty seems to be working. It’s just a matter of time before we will have to start taking more chances exploring above. Ruth continues to make regular checks with the Geiger counter. The radiation levels haven’t changed much being safe inside our shelter, marginal in the staircase between the shelters main doors and the heavier Entrance way at the top, and deadly beyond that point unless wearing proper protective gear. One of the main reasons no one has gone on an exploration trek yet is because we aren’t really sure how long the protection suits will last under the full exposure above. So we wait uneasily knowing that our chances of survival rely on so many things out of our control and knowing that there is a murderer in our midst. It is quite disconcerting. What kind of person could commit murder and continue to dwell amongst us in close proximity without a trace of remorse upon their countenance?
         I am weary and dream nightly to wake up in the morning to good news about the radiation level dropping and a break in the static from the emergency broadcast system with new instructions for survival. Long past the hope that I’m stuck in a nightmare the reality of our situation is almost too much to bear. “From the Pen of Sarah Brighton” I write, and it’s strange to see my name and think that this pen and paper could be all that’s left to tell the story of what happened to us here for some future archeologist to discover. A tribute in the new World’s museum exhibit entitled “The Ones That Almost Made It”. That is “If” there is anyone left to rebuild at all.

May 5 They say that total paranoia is perfect awareness…
         It's Cinco de Mayo, and I long to be lounging on the beach right out of a Corona beer commercial. No worries, no stress, warm sunlight on my shoulders and a feeling of calm contentment that I haven't felt since the whole world was blown to hell.
         There has been a great deal of confusion and fear in the shelter over the past week. On May 1st we were dealt a serious blow. Dr. Stutzman did not appear that morning for breakfast, so Ruth went to his cubicle to see how he was feeling. The grim reality was far worse than we could have imagined. Ruth's shrill scream alerted the rest of us to the scene, Dr. Stutzman our sensible leader and voice of reason was dead. Unlike in Bob's case, there was no sign of violence. It was very mysterious indeed. Jim was the first to note that the keys to the gun cabinet were missing. Pete, making sure that Craig was right at his side first, threw accusations of murder at Jim. Ruth and Bobbi also expressed their suspicions of Jim.
         Once again Jim and Craig donned radiation suits and took the corpse of Dr. Stutzman out of the shelter. When they returned, the ten of us that remained sat around our makeshift cafeteria in a stunned silence.
          Dr. Stutzman's death left us more divided than ever before. Under Stutzman's watch everything was under control, now there was anarchy and chaos. Nobody seemed to want to take on the responsibility of leadership. Jim brought up the subject but nobody, especially Ruth and Bobbi, trusted him. Ruth would make suggestions but seemed hesitant to step forward and be the boss. Bobbi often indicated that Pete would be the logical choice, but Pete seemed less than eager to take on the job.
         The following morning, Jenna failed to show up for her turn of guard duty of the food rations. Over the three days since then everybody pretty much gave up on the guard duty idea.
         Pete, Bobbi and Craig continued to have their secretive huddles. I overheard Bobbi say something about "the next turn...." to Pete and Craig but I couldn't eavesdrop without being conspicuous about it. For some reason I believe that the three of them are hiding something from the rest of us. The thing that frustrates me most about this is that my concerns don't seem to be shared by the others with the possible exception of Jim who has become a social pariah since Dr. Stutzman’s death which was most certainly a murder. Jim holding his arms out in total disbelief admitted that he and Dr. Stutzman had their disagreements but insisted that he was no murderer and that we should all be careful because the true murderer now had possession of the keys to the gun cabinet. In this time of great tension I could tell that Jim was showing greater restraint than he had during the early days of our exile. Most if not all of the others still believe that Jim murdered Dr. Stutzman. I don't know who the murderer is but the scariest thing of all is that I don't believe that it's Jim. Furthermore Jim is my only possible ally in finding out who the real murderer is. Dare I approach the fierce southerner with wild eyes and a history of potentially dangerous outbursts and risk becoming a social outcast myself?

May 18 The finger pointing begins…
         Everybody has been on edge and tempers have been running high. On the 7th of May there was a black out. All of the little caged yellow lights went out and it was pitch black, general hysteria ensued. Jim managed to find the power generator and figured out what was wrong with it and repaired the problem. That earned him some grudging respect amongst the others who hadn't quit pointing the finger at him since Dr. Stutzman's murder.
         On May 16th, I observed Jenna sneaking about, so I followed her from her cubicle into the supply room. I caught her red handed with an armful of some of the more tasteful canned goods. When she looked up and saw me standing there, her face went white as a sheet. "Why would you do this now Jenna?" I asked her. The girl awkwardly set down the cans of food, color returning to her face. "I didn't turn you in before," I continued, "but if this continues, I'm going to have to say something to the others." I really had no idea what I was going to do, nor was I prepared for Jenna's immediate flight pushing past me back toward the living quarters. I sighed to myself and began putting the cans of food hastily left behind by Jenna back on to the storage shelves. I was suddenly startled when a voice came from behind me. I turned around to see Craig standing there looking at me in a bewildered sort of way.
         "What are you doing?" He asked in a half inquisitive half accusatory voice. I told him about following Jenna and catching her. His reply was merely, "Where is Jenna now?"
         "I don't know," I said trying to deflect some of the pointed tone, "she ran off after I asked her what she was doing." Craig raised an eyebrow and took several steps toward me. I suddenly became very aware that we were alone and felt very uncomfortable about it.
         "The others don't need to know about this..."Craig tried to turn on some form of nonexistent charm, "We've been down here for so long....and we've been so alone...."
         "I don't think so Craig," I interrupted. His face turned pink and then red twisting somewhere between embarrassment and rage.
         The others won't be happy when I tell them you've been in here stealing food." Craig threatened putting his beefy hand upon my shoulder. I shrugged it off angrily.
         "Don't you even try to blackmail me with lies Craig!"
         "It doesn't have to be this way." He soothed trying to recover, but I was already so angry I pushed passed him and went straight to my cubicle to calm down and get my wits about myself.
         Soon after, I heard people milling around in the cafeteria so I ventured out. "There's the thief now!" Bobbi exclaimed as she caught sight of me, "Craig told us all about catching you in the supply room!"
         That is so ridiculous!" I muttered quickly regretting coming out so soon.
         "We should banish you from the shelter!" Bobbi spat vehemently her buggy green eyes seemed to pop out of her head she quivered with so much rage.
         "I can't believe you think that I was stealing! I explained to Craig...."
         "Craig told us everything!" Bobbi interrupted once again, "How you tried to blackmail him and dare I say seduce him you harlot!" I was so angry with the accusations that I couldn't even come up with a response.
         In the days since, I have felt nothing but animosity in the air toward me. I must discover what has really been going on around here before I become the next victim. Bob and Dr. Stutzman were both murdered and someone in this shelter is to blame. Who knows maybe being banished from the shelter would be safer after all.

May 25 But, Mr. Holmes the cat was nowhere near the canary!
         Another week has gone by and the situation has only worsened. Determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious murders and stolen food, I decided to speak one on one with as many of the others as I could. Interview them informally to see what kind of information I might be able to glean from additional sets of eyes. I mean we’ve been trapped in the shelter together for two months now, and it’s an extremely confined environment. Even including the large storage area there is simply not a whole lot of places for anybody to hide evidence. Someone is bound to have seen or heard something that would help me unravel this mystery.
         I approached Jim first. It was easy to do because he was quite possibly the only person maligned by the others as much as me. I began by trying to get off on the right foot, telling him that I did not believe that he was the murderer. This eased him up a bit and Jim talked in length about Dr. Stutzman’s murder indicating that the most obvious explanation was poison but without an autopsy we had no way of knowing for sure what killed him. Jim astutely pointed out that he still believed that Dr. Stutzman was murdered because of the missing keys to the gun cabinet. It was still possible that he had simply died of an unknown medical cause, but someone had taken the keys to the gun cabinet after either discovering Dr. Stutzman already dead or after first killing him and then taking the keys. In Jim’s opinion however he was sure that Dr. Stutzman was murdered. He would only say again and again as we parted,” find the keys and you find the murderer.”
         Next I approached Jenna. It was partly her fault that everybody was blaming me of being the food thief and she knew it. At first Jenna was alarmed as I broached the subject but she soon caught the drift that I wasn’t talking to her to demand a confession over a little stolen food rations. As far as I was concerned her petty misdemeanor was behind us and we had a bigger problem on our hands, like murder for instance. Jenna talked more in the ensuing half hour that I believe she had in the previous two months.
         Pam and Nancy were both easy to approach. Neither one of them had much ambition to accuse anyone of thievery or murder. They each seemed sincerely sorry about my situation when speaking to them one on one. Ruth couldn’t get past her differences with Jim and she stubbornly refused to believe that the murderer could possibly be anyone else. She also felt that the stolen food was an entirely separate mystery and tried to turn the tables on me with questions about what I was doing in the storage area and what happened with Craig. This was a time for complete honesty so I told her everything just as it happened from my catching Jenna and of Craig’s treachery. Ruth like Jim believed that Dr. Stutzman was poisoned and I found it somewhat ironic that the two bitterest enemies thought a lot alike. With their combined efforts and intelligence we could probably flush out the truth if they would only put aside their differences.
         Lucy was much more of a conspiracy theorist. She jumped from conclusion to conclusion proving only that anyone of us could be guilty. She seemed to quote Bobbi a lot which was alarming since Bobbi was the most vocal of my accusers. Because of Bobbi’s attitude toward me I was unable to interview neither her nor Pete who clung to his wife’s behind like a very obedient golden retriever. I also refrained from talking to Craig for obvious reasons of a very strong dislike bordering on hatred after his lies and seduction accusations. After speaking with everyone I felt a little better. I took good notes and felt sure that I could unravel something from the wealth of information I was given from my compatriot’s observations. I was determined to study my notes carefully eventually falling asleep because I could simply not hold my eyelids open any longer.
         I slept soundly and fell into a dream. I was sitting on the passenger side of a rusty old pick up truck. There were confederate flag stickers peeling in the rear windows and I was being jostled against the door squished between the handle and Dr. Stutzman who was sitting next to me in the center looking stoically ahead. I peered over his rigid form to see who was driving and there was wild eyed scraggly haired and bearded Jim at the wheel. We were barreling across a southwestern looking desert on a dry dirt road kicking up a cloud of dust as we went. I could taste the dryness in the air and the noise of the trucks engine drummed out most cohesive thoughts but there was a sense of urgency. It was extremely important that we act quickly. I somehow knew that we had to get there on time. Without really knowing where there was or what we needed to do when we got there. My baggy army fatigues were suffocating in the heat, my hair disheveled and falling out of a pony tail I could feel a thin layer of dust on my skin as the blew into the truck, we had the windows cracked open because the heat was so stifling. Falling up against the dashboard as Jim turned without slowing down spinning the wheel to follow the road I gasped and glanced at my watch but it was broken the second hand motionless pointing at the nine useless and increasing the feeling of urgency. Jim took his eyes off the road and looked across Dr. Stutzman’s unmoving position at me. His dark eyes seemed less wild as we momentarily made eye contact. Turning his attention back to the road he said, “I know who it is!” I was curious to know what he knew and anxious to get to our unknown destination on time, before it was too late. Then, I awoke.
         My eyes adjusting to the darkness and the familiar dank atmosphere of the bomb shelter returning to my senses I felt a tingling sensation at my temples. It was a disconcerting sixth sense, the feeling that I was not alone. I slowly scanned the shadows of the room realizing that I was not wrong. Somebody was there I could see the form of a human body leaning in at my makeshift bookcase. I stifled the urge to scream trying to remain as still as possible. Who was going through my things? My mind raced with the hope of recognizing the shape of the shadow as I wished I could move my hands to wipe the sleep from my eyes to improve my vision. Before I could fully accustom myself to the darkness however the shadow scampered stealthily away. I waited several minutes for my racing heartbeat to slow down before rising. It felt like an eternity before I got the nerve to light a candle and make my way over to where the intruder had been. Nothing was missing, but my notes journal that held my interview notes was conspicuously moved. Whoever it was had taken it while I was sleeping and was just now returning it, but why? Why did they even bother to bring it back? I opened it up to look over my notes and it soon became apparent that certain passages of my interview notes were blacked out. All I could think was why would somebody steal my book only to black out certain parts and bring it back?

May 31 Elementary, dear Watson
         It all makes sense to me now. Reviewing my notes, it’s a wonder that I hadn’t seen it sooner. At first I had assumed that the killer was trying to thwart my investigation by blacking out key information from my journal. Logically however, this made no sense. If the killer had believed that my journal contained incriminating evidence and had swiped it for a long enough period of time to black out several hundred different words, wouldn’t they have simply destroyed the entire notebook? The killer wouldn’t have bothered to meticulously black out certain sentences and paragraphs of my interviews only to return the evidence for me to decipher. Somebody was trying to tell me something; something that they were afraid to tell me openly. I finally pieced all the clues together with the assistance of my anonymous helper’s marker narrowing down my search. The answer was so simple that I wondered why nobody had thought of it sooner. The breaching of the shelter’s exit, the regular theft of food, Dr. Stutzman’s mysterious death with no apparent sign of physical violence and the missing keys to the gun cabinet all lead to the same reasonable conclusion.
         Unfortunately it may be difficult for me to convince the majority these days. Just this morning at breakfast Bobbi renewed her verbal assault upon my character. I ignored her as best as I could as she babbled on and on about putting me on trial for the theft of the food. Imagine what a mockery of justice that would be. As funny as it sounds Bobbi is gaining support, which is why I need to collect the evidence that I will need to convince the others of my innocence and uncover the truth once and for all.

June 3 Any last requests?
         Knowing that I would need concrete proof that would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind, I set off to compile the evidence at once. I chose to systematically eliminate the possible hiding spots within the shelter. It was just a matter of time before I uncovered a clue; we were in a quite confined environment.
         I found a stockpile of the missing food in Bob’s old room. It was hidden beneath a table fabricated from storage crates and covered with a space blanket much like the ones we had built out in the community living quarters. It was a clever location for hiding stolen goods. Nobody had entered Bob’s old quarters since his murder. In a backpack stored with the stolen food there was even more striking evidence. A loaded service pistol, a knife in a black leather sheath, and the keys to the gun cabinet were among the contents of the pack. Excited with the implications of my discovery, I hurried to share it with the others. Running into Ruth first, I bubbled with excitement as I hurriedly tried to explain to her that I knew who the killer was and that the stolen food was hidden in Bob’s old room. I must have been over exuberant because Ruth just kept looking at me really strangely. I should have recognized this as a sign to slow down and legitimize my hasty details with facts, but I was so overwhelmed with the desire to reveal the truth that I insisted to Ruth that we get everybody together and bring them to Bob’s old room right away.
         It took at least twenty minutes to round everybody up. I heard Bobbi snidely whisper not so quietly to Lucy, “So she finally snaps.”
“So did you call us all here to confess?” Bobbi cat called cackling as Pete and Craig guffawed in the background. My face went red with suppressed fury.
“This is no confession,” I said trying to steady my quavering voice, “I bring you here because I figured out what’s going on around here.” Having said that, I led the way into Bob’s room to where the stolen food and evidence lay waiting. It did not provide the dramatic effect I was hoping for. Standing in a horseshoe around the revealed food I stood triumphant in the center, “What better place for the murderer to hide what they had stolen. It’s been right here under our noses.” I began, “Does everybody remember when the entrance was breached and we had discovered that someone was sneaking out of the shelter….” I was glad to see a few nods following my train of thought. Bobbi was unfazed and retorted.
         “Yeah wasn’t that about the time you went ill from a little radiation exposure eh Sarah?” I resumed ignoring Bobbi’s sass.
         “What we didn’t consider is that it wasn’t somebody sneaking out of the shelter but rather someone sneaking in.” I paused allowing the others to soak in the startling information.
         “Are you meaning to tell us that there has been another survivor hiding in this shelter all this time?” Jim inquired ignoring Bobbi and Lucy’s shrieking laughter.
         “That’s pretty far fetched Sarah.” Ruth intervened.
         “Dr. Stutzman suspected it.” I came back, “In fact, he figured it out too which is what caused him to investigate our intruders intensions. He was alarmed when Bob was murdered and that’s when he took maters into his own hands.”
         “What do you mean Sarah?” Jim inquired stroking his scraggly beard with his thumb in thought.
         “I mean that Dr. Stutzman had a struggle with the killer a successful struggle after he discovered the stolen food and the killer in this very room. The killer was weakened by this time the radiation exposure taking its toll.” I took my time delivering the details wanting everybody to understand me.
         “So where’s our deceased intruder now?” Craig bellowed looking around in a mocking disbelief.
         “I don’t know.” I was forced to admit picking up the backpack left atop the crates of food. “But Dr. Stutzman died before he could properly dispose of the body or get any of us to help him.”
         “What a load of crap!” Bobbi exploded. The entire room seemed to be laughing. I fought back the tears, hefting the backpack across my shoulder I marched out of the makeshift room pushing past the horseshoe of disbelievers. There was a sudden stunned silence. Nobody was expecting me to move so quickly. It didn’t matter that nobody believed me now. I was going to show them and if they were too blinded to see the truth…..I didn’t pause to see if anyone would follow but I felt them on my heels as I made my way to the gun cabinet where I stopped and fumbled for the keys in the olive drab backpack. When they appeared there was a gasp and an exchange of nervous glances but I paid it no notice. Proceeding to unlock the gun cabinet I twisted the door open. Even though I should have been prepared for what happened next I still jumped back in surprise with something between a scream and a gasp of horror as the dead body of our intruder fell from its hastily propped position in the locker. Pam screamed and buried her face in Nancy’s shoulder and there was a murmur racing through the crowd as the stench of death and decay stole over the room. “There’s your murderer!” I bellowed my hand shaking as it pointed toward the corpse sprawled out on the floor. I wasn’t feeling nearly as vindicated by my sleuthing as I imagined I would. Time stood still before Bobbi’s harpy like voice broke the silence, “I still think we should put Sarah on trial. She knew too much, it couldn’t have been a coincidence.”
         I couldn’t believe my ears as there were several nods and grunts of accent. My head went numb and the ensuing conversation turned into muffled echoes. Jim was discussing the means of disposing of the newly found corpse while the others made arrangements to set up the community room like a court room.
         I was led back along the storage corridor from where the gun cabinet was to the living quarters flanked by Craig and Ruth in case I tried to escape as if there were anywhere I could possibly go. Upon arriving I was seated and watched as the others went about setting up their kangaroo court. Realizing I still had the backpack in my hands, I briefly entertained the thought of pulling out the pistol and shooting somebody. I decided against it convincing myself that once they actually started this circus cooler heads would prevail and I would be acquitted.
         I couldn’t have been more wrong. One by one each person voted in favor of my expulsion from the shelter. It appeared the only ones that didn’t seem to think so were Jim who stood up in my defense and Jenna who just sat there looking bored and didn’t say anything. Bobbi lead the charge and formally announced the verdict with a twinge of glee in her voice that I was to be escorted from the shelter the following morning banished to take my chances above. Pete and Craig escorted me to my cubicle where I was to remain under lock and key for one final night. I could still hear Jim arguing with Bobbi and Ruth as they led me away.
         Waiting here writing by candle light I can’t sleep. I spent some time crying lamenting my fate and the fear of dying. The exposure to the radiation would surely kill me. I pondered how I would go. The backpack still in my possession I debated. Should I fight? Take someone with me and die on my feet? I would have just as good a change of shooting myself as my hands were shaking so badly. They would certainly have access to guns too now that the gun cabinet was open and I had never even held a gun before. Maybe it would be better to walk proudly from the shelter to my death. Tom was surely dead how could he have gotten to a shelter in time from his office? What were that chances that anyone I ever loved was still alive out there? Joining them wouldn’t be so bad would it?

June 4 Banishment
         The dawn arrived without heralding itself. The dungeon like appearance of the shelter had never been greater than it was this morning. Waiting for my captors to carry out their banishment I hoped for a sunny day. It would be so nice to see the sun one last time before I succumb to the exposure of radiation. I shoved my notebook into the backpack which I hadn’t let go of since the night before and I stood up ready to go when Nancy came to retrieve me. Nancy’s eyes were red and puffy with tears and she hugged me before leading me out to where Pete and Craig were waiting for me arms crossed like a couple of thugs. There was a slow procession toward the shelters exit. There was a shiver of fear running up and down my spine. Bobbi was waiting at the double doors. A smug look was on her face. Lucy and Ruth flanked her looking somber and determined not to show any weakness.
         ”Any last words Sarah?” Bobbi smirked. Oh how she loved this little power trip. I felt sure I should say something but nothing came to mind. My mouth felt parched and my thoughts raced. What happened next happened so quickly it took everybody by total surprise. Jim had not only knocked Pete to the floor with his booted foot held over the whimpering man’s neck but he also held a semi-automatic rifle to Craig’s head. I ducked out of the way from where I had been standing between the two victims shivering. Everyone was shocked. All the color drained from Bobbi’s face.
         ”Sarah go grab radiation suits and the Geiger counter from storage!” Jim commanded, “The rest of you up against the wall. Jim took the opportunity to strike Craig upside the head with the butt of his rifle as he shoved the larger man toward the wall. I could see a gash of flowing red blood drip down the side of Craig’s temple as he crawled to the wall from where Jim had shoved him down. Letting Pete up, Jim kicked him in the butt as he too scampered to huddle with the others against the cold concrete wall.
         This is outrageous!” Bobbi screeched.
         ”Shut up Bitch!” Jim bellowed rifle leveled in her direction. By this time I was scurrying down the corridor scrambling to retrieve the protective suits and gear. I really hoped Jim knew what he was doing. It was quite a chore lugging the bulky radiation suits to the exit from storage. I wondered how far I’d be able to walk in one of those things before collapsing of sheer exhaustion. Surely these efforts were in vain, but I took in a deep breath lowered my shoulders and determinedly trudged onward. As I staggered to the exit where Jim held the others hostage he wasted no time shouting more instructions. “Get a suit on….take your time make sure it’s air tight.” I would have resented his tone had I not sensed the need for urgency and the importance of having the suit on properly. After I was suited Jim handed me the rifle with instructions spoken loud enough for the others to hear, “If any of them flinch don’t hesitate to shoot with one foot into his yellow protective suit I held the rifle shakily. I’m sure I was more afraid that somebody would take a chance than they were of me actually pulling the trigger of the flat black colored army rifle. Once Jim was in his suit, which was none too soon, we bade our ex-roommates farewell.
         The sealing hiss of the double doors behind us indicated the finality of the situation. Jim and I walked up to the top of the concrete stairs. There was only one more set of doors between us and the great outdoors. “Do you have the Geiger counter Sarah?” Jim asked. I nodded and slung the backpack off my shoulder pulling out the radiation measuring device. Stepping through the final set of doors Jim proceeded to take some readings. “Judging from the effectiveness of these suits and the radiation in the air, we’re safe from lethal levels…..it’s a matter of finding a new shelter with uncontaminated food and water now.” Jim returned the Geiger counter to the backpack. “Let’s get going.” He said grimly. I followed Jim across the college campus to the parking lot. It was the first time I had been above ground in over two months. It was strange to see the familiar scenery of the campus devoid of activity. No signs of life just empty buildings hollow no longer having a purpose.
         The parking lot was still full of vehicles. I was half expecting to see the rusty old pick up truck with confederate flag stickers on the rear windows that Jim had driven in my dream. Instead he approached and unlocked an innocuous looking burgundy Chevy Trailblazer. Jim fumbled with a set of keys and turned the engine. There was a bit of sputtering and hesitation at first but the engine sprang to life upon a second turn. Jim leaned across the interior and unlocked the passenger door. “Get in.” he hooted with joy as the engine purred in the backdrop. “We still have a chance now that we have some mobility!” Choosing between accompanying Jim and staying behind was an easy decision to make and I quickly leapt into the Trailblazer’s passenger seat. Perching the rifle in between the bucket seats, Jim put the SUV in gear and raced out of the parking lot.
         It goes without saying that the streets were deserted. I had no idea where we were headed, but anywhere was better than nowhere at all and Jim seemed to have a plan. I wasn’t about to interrupt his concentration as he navigated the barren streets of Boston into the suburbs. Without traffic it did not take long and soon Jim had parked the SUV in front of a normal looking suburban home. It was a ranch style house with white aluminum siding. All the trim was a pale yellow. Jim was the last person I expected to live in such a place, but Jim wasn’t speaking and I had to run to keep up with him as he bounded out of the Trailblazer and into the house. It was almost as if he’d forgotten that I was tagging along he was so single minded in his actions. Stepping through the front door I didn’t know what to do as Jim had already rushed frantically down a hallway without cluing me into his intentions.
         I stood there in the middle of a once cozy living room with no choice but to wait really. After several minutes, I started to examine my surroundings. An old rocking chair in one corner, a leather recliner there was nothing extraordinary or interesting about the room, until I spotted some photographs on the top of a bookshelf. Curiously I examined them. There was a picture of Jim in his Marine Corp dress uniform. He looked young, clean shaven and staring ahead in that stoic way that all military photos are taken. Nothing like the wild eyed scraggly bearded Jim in the shelter. There was another picture of the soldier Jim smiling and standing next to an attractive young woman with short blonde hair and a third picture of the couple together with two toddler aged girls in a family photo. Jim had never mentioned having a family the entire two months in the shelter. I never suspected that he like everyone else had a life torn asunder when the missiles rained upon the earth with their lethal payloads. I was choked up with tears when Jim stepped back into the living room walking less energetically than he did when we first arrived. We stood there for a moment of awkward silence. “We better get going.” Jim finally muttered. I could tell he was feeling very disappointed that there was no sign whatsoever about what had happened to his family.
         ”Jim I’m so sorry.” I tried to comfort him,
         ”Yeah me too” was all that he could say. Getting back into the Trailblazer I began to wonder where we were headed to next. Jim drove us directly to a National Guard arsenal. Parking out front I followed him into the main building. “There should be some sort of listing of shelters somewhere in here.” He was trying to reassure me that we still had a chance.
         Hours later as darkness began to settle in I was about to give up hope I was tired and the radiation suit which protected me from my environment was beginning to get hot and uncomfortable. Jim and I had returned to the Trailblazer, he was kneeling on the ground using the rifle to prop himself up. “There are other places we can try tomorrow.” He attempted to remain optimistic. It was then I heard it a buzzing at first and then a whirring. I made eye contact with Jim and could tell that he had heard it too. The sound kept getting louder and louder. We turned our eyes to the sky and there was the loveliest sight I had ever seen. A military helicopter was streaking across the sky. I started jumping up and down shouting at the top of my lungs. Jim leapt into the Trailblazer started it up turned on all its lights and began honking the horn. There was a moment when we weren’t sure if the helicopter had spotted us. Our eyes glued to the sky watching the shadow dart through the air like a dragonfly, it did appear to be heading in our direction.
         When the helicopter touched down on the ground not far from our position Jim and I hugged each other we were so excited at the prospect of survival. A solider saluted to us from the side of the helicopter and Jim returned it smartly. Taking my hand he helped lift me into the helicopter. “How long have you guys been out here?” The soldier at the door shouted as we left the ground.
         ”A bit over two months in a shelter on the college campus.” Jim yelled back to be heard over the roar of the helicopters rotors. The dusk landscape was being swallowed by the night, I had no idea where we were headed yet I couldn’t stop the tears of joy from flowing. I realized that I had never let go of Jim’s hand at the same time he realized that he had not let go of mine. We exchanged smiles and I knew everything was going to be alright. Thinking of the others still in the shelter I had an urge to tell the soldier but the noise of the helicopter drummed out my voice………I guess we could explain about them later. I didn’t want to spoil this night.