Dust Read Free Page A

and charting what we would do in the days and weeks following the attack, I forgot to plan what we would do in the immediate. How crucial the ‘immediate’ was.
    Time stood still. The shock of what happened left my body with a tremendous inability to move. My mind wouldn’t think. My body ached in the painful silence of the aftermath. The brass balls I displayed on my sleeve rolled off somewhere in the confusion of what happened. All that I expected myself to be, all that I projected, I wasn’t. Truth be known, even more than feeling scared, at that moment, I felt totally useless.

    ***

    “Hold it steady,” I instructed Davy, who aimed the flashlight for my benefit.
    “I am.”
    “I know.” On my knees I fiddled with the yellow tin box I purchased from an auction at a really cheap price. A steal I bragged about. My affordable Geiger counter. But at that moment I wondered if I only paid for a box with some neat little gadgets. To my right was a brochure. I lifted it.
    “Aunt Jo?” Simon called.
    From the pages, I glanced to Simon who lay belly-down on the mattress. “Yes?”
    “Can I have one more?”
    “Um ... sure.” I knew he was referring to the beef jerky. I had given him only one to hold him over while he colored.
    “Should he have one more?” Davy asked.
    “Yes, we have plenty. I’m positive of that. Why don’t you get it for him, please?”
    “OK.” Davy took a step away.
    “The light. The light. Don’t move the flashlight.” I snapped.
    “Mom, I can’t go get Simon beef jerky and hold the flashlight on you.”
    I grumbled softly. “You’re right.” I looked to Simon, “Simon, give us a few minutes. Finish coloring.”
    “OK.” Simon returned to his book.
    The battle with the Geiger counter was growing tiresome. I pulled and pulled the top. “Fuck. How do you get this thing open to put the batteries in?”
    “Isn’t it in the manual?” Davy questioned.
    “How to put the batteries inside is on page three. How to open it ... ” I grabbed the manual. “Is nowhere to be found.”
    “Maybe you should have read the manual before.”
    “I should have. I didn’t.”
    “Why?”
    “Christ, Davy, I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t think we needed to.” It was pointless to argue with Davy; my mind was on that box. Finally, I succeeded. “Ah. There.”
    “Was all you needed to do was flip that latch?” Davy pointed.
    The glance I gave said more than any words.
    “Just asking.”
    “Hold the light steady.” I grabbed the battery from the baggie.
    “Will it work?” Davy asked.
    “I hope.”
    “We never tested it.”
    “I know.”
    “We should have tested it,” Davy said.
    I looked up at him. He had to be kidding. “How were we supposed to test it, Davy? It measures radiation.”
    Davy shrugged. “I don’t know. An X-Ray place or something. Because you know, what if it doesn’t work and it tells us the wrong thing.”
    I closed the lid to the Geiger counter. “You know what? Forget it. We’ll do it later.”
    “Why?”
    “Because we don’t need to measure right now.”
    “How come? Don’t we want to know what the levels are?”
    “They’re high.” I stood up.
    “But what if ... ”
    “Davy.” I barked. “It doesn’t make a difference what the levels are, we aren’t fuckin’ going out there anyhow.”
    “You don’t have to yell.”
    “I’m not ... ” I took a second to calm down. “I’m not yelling. I’m ... “ I inched across the shelter. “Just getting a beef jerky for Simon.”
    Even though he looked busy coloring, Simon was eavesdropping. He called out a, ‘Thank you.’
    The flap to the box was open, and I reached in, pulling out a sandwich bag filled with small strips of beef jerky. I took one out, sealed the bag again and moved to Simon. “Here you go.”
    Simon scooted to his knees. “Thank you, Aunt Jo.”
    “You’re welcome, honey. But no more for a while.” I laid my hand on his head, fully intending to walk back over to