The Will To Be Free

Friday, October 13, 2028 started out like any other day. My boss, SoHo comic book store owner Joe Daines, arrived at his store at 7:30 AM ready to start another day of work. His store was one of the last of a dying breed of small-time comic book stores in New York City. Its presence across the street from a junior high school made it a popular stop for young superhero fans like myself looking to complete their collection.

As it happened, the junior high school was having a teacher workday, meaning that I, 14 year old Christian Allen, could get in an extra day of work at the comic book store. I had just gotten my work permit from school, which was an achievement I had worked hard for.

“Good morning, Christian!” said Joe.

“Morning!” I said.

“Christian, you want to see something cool?” said Joe.

“Sure,” I said.

Joe took me to the store basement, where he kept the truly rare comics out of reach of young hooligans. I assumed my long sought-after Batman Reloaded #7 comic book had just arrived, as I’d asked Joe to order it off of Amazon with some of my store credit.

What Joe had to show me was something else entirely, however. “Christian,” he said, “You know what the Cold War was, right?”

“Sorta,” I answered, “History was never really my thing.”

“Well,” said Joe, “Back in my day, people rightly feared nuclear war so much that they began constructing fallout shelters. Fallout shelters are basically concrete basements where, in the event of imminent nuclear war, the owner would hide out until the war ended and the fallout dissipated. I have one right here in the shop. Before we open the store, I’d like you to help me stock it with supplies.”

“Why?” I asked, “It’s not like any of our leaders are dumb enough to use nukes. That’d just end with their own deaths.”

“You’re right,” said Joe, “But it never hurts to be prepared just in case. That’s why I store away food and supplies every month to ride out any surprise nuclear strikes.” Joe opened a hatch in the floor leading down a ladder into a small but well-stocked and well-maintained fallout shelter. “Christian,” said Joe, “Grab those boxes that say ‘Emergency Food Supplies’ on them and hand ’em down to me”.

“You got it, boss!” I answered.

One at a time, I handed boxes full of emergency supplies to Joe. After we were done, Joe invited me down for a full tour.

“So, Christian, this is my fallout shelter. My grandfather built it in 1959. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, he, my grandmother, and my mom hid in the shelter until the Soviets agreed to remove their missiles from Cuba, averting nuclear war. That’s how scary it was!” said Joe.

“Are those Cuban cigars?” I asked, noticing the boxes marked “La Roja Cubana”.

“Yes,” said Joe, “My grandfather bought 1500 of them before the embargo went into effect. He made a killing in the 90s selling them to local cigar fans for $600 a piece. That’s over $1800 in today’s money!“.

“Seems like an odd thing to store in a fallout shelter. Wouldn’t you be better off storing extra food?” I asked.

“Good news for me is, there’s enough food in here to feed me and a family of four for six months (if I had one). It wouldn’t be fine dining, but we’d get by long enough for it to be safe to leave and forage for food,” said Joe.

“You got power in here?” I asked.

“Yep,” said Joe, “I got my own generator. And a built in water purifier connected to an underground aquifer.”

“Sounds like you’re all set for nuclear war!” I said.

“Yep,” said Joe, “By the way, if you’re ever at work and the bombs drop, you have access to it too. If I am out of the store, don’t even wait for me because I won’t be coming (because I’ll be disintegrated). Just open the hatch, climb on in, shut the hatch, and close it with the handle like this.”

The second Joe closed the hatch, the two of us heard a loud explosion and a deafening roar unlike anything either one of us had ever heard in our lives from the outside world above the bunker.

“Is that...” I asked, fearing for my life.

“Yes, yes it is,” said Joe, “Nuclear war.”

Me and Joe stood frozen and awkwardly silent for about a minute. Meanwhile, the store above was rocked by the shockwave and shattered into rubble.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Holy crow! This is actually happening! We’re gonna die! The world is gonna be destroyed!”

“We’re not gonna die so long as we’re in here. Anyone on the surface, though, they’re cooked. Literally,” said Joe.

“All my friends and family, gone!” I said, trembling in fear, “Everything I know and love, gone!”

“I know, buddy, I know.” said Joe, taking me in a bear hug. “Mark my words, we’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna survive the fallout in here, then we’re gonna leave the shelter and rebuild the world from scratch like Fallout!”

“Question,” I asked, “Does the TV work?”

“Only one way to find out,” said Joe. Joe turned on the TV. To our surprise, only the New York channels were offline. Boston’s news channel still worked. A few minutes later, the news broadcast was interrupted with an EAS message reading “The United States of America has been subjected to a nuclear detonation. A single likely improvised nuclear weapon has exploded in the financial district of New York City. No missiles detected at this time. If you are within 50 miles of downtown Manhattan, TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.”

After a few seconds, the 8:00 news started early, and Joe and I sat down on the old, tattered midcentury couch to watch: “This is Sean Hannity, live from Boston. A nuclear attack has occurred in downtown Manhattan. The White House believes this is an unprecedented nuclear terrorist attack and not a full-blown nuclear war. No missiles have been detected en route to the U.S. I repeat, no missiles have been detected en route to the U.S.”

The broadcast cut to the White House. Press Secretary Tulsi Gabbard said, “At this time we have no idea who could have done this. President Zeldin is on the phone with Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping as we speak. Both have denied any involvement.”

Peter Doocy (the noted FOX News reporter) asked Gabbard, “When will we hear from President Zeldin?”

Gabbard replied, “As soon as he is off the phone with Putin and Xi”.

“Well,” said Joe, “I never expected a single nuke. I always assumed it would be only World War III that caused nukes to go off.”

“Who do you think it could be?” I asked.

“No idea” said Joe, “I never expected an attack not involving any missile launches. It had to be that someone smuggled a nuke into New York City and detonated it. That rules out any foreign terrorist groups because a nuke would never make it through any borders, land or sea. It also needs to be someone with the experience to handle radioactive materials.”

“You mean like terrorists?” I asked.

“With Zohran Mamdani as mayor? I doubt the Moose Lambs would want to blow up their biggest stronghold inside the U.S!” said Joe.

“What about the government?” I asked.

“That I could see,” said Joe, “Anyway, you want some beef jerky?”

“Sure,” I said, still numb.

“Here ya go, one bag of Jack Links’ Teriyaki!” said Joe as he handed me a bag of beef jerky.

“Joe,” I asked, “How long will it take for the government to find us?”

“We’ll leave on our own volition, make our way out of the city as soon as things cool off topside,” said Joe, “You want a beer?”

“I’m 14...” I said.

“First of all, nobody’s ever gonna find out about this. Second, it’s nuclear war. Anything goes. Third, my grandfather gave me my first beer when I was 11.” said Joe.

“You’re right. Hand it over!” I said.

“Cheers...” said Joe, “to getting out of here and starting over!”

“Cheers!” I said, “Question: How will we know when it’s safe to leave?”

“Well,” said Joe, “If Hiroshima is anything to go by, 80% of the radiation was gone within 24 hours. Since it was only one low-yield explosion, only the city center of New York City should be affected. We’ll stay down here a week just to be on the safe side. Then, I’ll head to my cousin’s on Martha’s Vineyard and start a new life, and we’ll connect you with some long-lost relatives upstate or something. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Look!” I shouted excitedly around 11:15, “The President’s on!”

Lee Zeldin, the President of the United States since the resignation of two-time Republican President Donald Trump after a particularly damning Epstein File leak, addressed the nation from the Oval Office around noon that same day as panic spread worldwide: “My fellow Americans, today New York City and America itself were savagely attacked by an unknown group or country with an improvised atomic bomb. I do not yet know who did this, but I want to make this very clear: we will find out who did this, and there will be ████ to pay when we do. I’ve spoken to the leaders of over 100 countries in the last few hours. They have all promised us full cooperation to find and destroy the enemy that did this. Civilization cannot tolerate an act like this in any way, because it cannot survive it being repeated. The military is mobilized to act at a moment’s notice to strike against whoever did this. Mark my words, we will find and destroy you. You will not escape justice, even if it takes longer to find you than it took to find Bin Laden after he took down the Twin Towers so many years ago. My thoughts and prayers are with the people of New York City and America at large. God bless New York and God bless America.”

Me and Joe stayed glued to the TV for the next few hours as total pandemonium broke out worldwide. We could only watch helplessly as stores were picked clean by mobs, people fought tooth and nail to flee major cities and the Great Plains region where nuclear silos dotted the landscape, and commentators blamed everyone from Islamic terrorists to incels for the attack. Very few living people, and no one of my generation, had ever seen anything like this before, except at Hiroshima and Nagasaki almost a hundred years earlier. People, like myself, didn’t know what to think or what to do.

A lone Fox News reporter visited Yonkers (just north of New York City) around 3:00 that day. Yonkers was well out of the blast range but you’d think it had taken a direct hit because the sheer pandemonium as people tried to escape further north or even looted homes and businesses caused such destruction that the city basically lay in ruins. The mushroom cloud was visible but the flame had died off by that point. The sky was darkened with smoke and ash. There was surprisingly little fallout, but the reporter pointed out that there was a metallic taste in the air, likely from radioactive metal. The military was already on the scene, but there was little they could do but quarantine New York City. Though I’m too young to remember that day myself, it seemed like a 9/11 all over again, but this was far worse. It was like a 9/11 had hit every building in Lower Manhattan all at once.

Me and Joe turned off the TV after that and got out a chess set that Joe’s grandfather once owned. Joe didn’t know how to play chess at all, but I had been a leader in my junior high school’s chess club, so I showed Joe the ropes.

The two of us tried our best to keep their minds off the destruction just a few feet above their heads and the probable loss of everyone we knew. But we could not ignore the sound of fire crackling above us, burning the scorched ruins even further.

Around 9:00 that evening Joe turned on the TV again. After seeing on the news that the site of the nuclear attack was Battery Park, we began working on an escape plan to be followed the following Friday while we each enjoyed another bag of beef jerky.

Zohran Mamdani, the mayor at the time, addressed the city from Uganda, his native land he had been visiting on a family visit when the bomb hit: “My fellow New Yorkers, at this point I still have no idea who did this or why. But just as we got Bin Laden, we’ll get whoever did this sh*t, and we’ll put them under the death row!”

The crowd gathered in Kampala cheered the mayor’s statement, but the public remained suspicious of Mamdani, understandably given his Muslim faith and the relative recency of 9/11 and all that that day entailed.

At around 10:00, Joe said to me, “Buddy, let’s try and get some sleep. We ████ well deserve it.”

“What if someone tries to break in the bunker?” I asked.

Joe said, “Christian, we’re locked in a fallout shelter in the basement of a comic book store in a nuclear hot zone. Nobody’s gonna break in”.

“If you say so...” I said.

“Good night, my dude!” said Joe.

“Good night!” I said, as I laid down on the twin-sized cot in the bunker’s living room.

As I tried to fall asleep, I listened to the roar of the flames above the bunker, the regular collapses of buildings in the SoHo from fire and wind, and wondered if things would ever be normal again. If anyone... ANYONE I knew had made it through this baptism by fire. My parents? Some friends from school? My uncle who captained the nearby police precinct? Was there anyone alive in New York City at all, and if there were, would they ever be the same again? Would they glow green? Would they turn into ghouls like in Fallout (a favorite video game series of mine and Joe’s which we played during downtime at the store)?

I further struggled with the guilt of knowing I was going to be okay, while untold numbers of my fellow New Yorkers (likely including my family, who lived even closer to the bomb site than the comic book store was) were not going to be okay, and that there might not even be any trace of their existence after this horrific day.

I finally fell asleep around 3:00 AM as the flames above the bunker quieted down, and slept until around 2:00 PM the following afternoon, knowing there’d be nothing to get up for, being trapped like a pair of sardines in what I feared would be little more than a concrete tomb if we couldn’t get out of there before our food supplies ran out...

It was Friday, October 27th. Joe had spent all of the previous night watching FOX News, waiting for the all clear from FEMA as far as radiation was concerned, as had been promised by the government a few days before. The all clear came at 4:30 AM as the level of radiation in Lower Manhattan dropped. The government declared that New York City would remain under blockade until further notice to prevent people from entering the city and to prevent a surge of refugees swamping the neighboring communities, but that supplies would be airdropped to aid any survivors and that the hospitals would have doctors flown in to staff them.

Joe woke me up at around 9:00 that morning and opened the hatch on the fallout shelter. It only opened halfway, though, due to rubble.

“Christian, you’re small and thin enough to fit through the gap. Climb up there and see if you can move the rubble,” said Joe.

“Okay,” I said. I was able to fit through the opening, but couldn’t lift enough of the rubble to free Joe. “I can’t move this thing! It must be like a thousand pounds!”

Joe said, “Okay Christian, I want you to go to the nearest hospital and see if you can’t find someone willing to help get me out. Don’t go downtown; that’s where the bomb exploded. Go uptown towards Koreatown. There’s a hospital there that the government has staffed with doctors and military.”

“Got it!” said Christian.

“Good luck! I’ll be waiting!” said Joe.

I made my way out of the comic store basement onto the decimated street. It looked like a scene from 9/11 meets Hiroshima. Only this was worse. There wasn’t a single other person around. Where once had been my junior high school, art galleries, and hip cafes, there was only shattered ruins, more skeletons than complete buildings.

Before anything else, I headed towards the southern border of Soho, where my family townhouse was located. It was surprisingly intact, but I did notice a black pile of ash and bone on the front stairs. I knew it was my mother, Sherri. I broke down in tears for a brief moment before using her still-intact key to enter my former home. My father Ward and my brother Arlo’s remains were sitting on the couch, as if enjoying a TV show, fried by radiation.

I went upstairs to change clothes, then scavenged the house for money, credit cards, jewelry, checks, and anything that might count as valuables, and put them in my school backpack along with non-perishable food items and my laptop computer, still open on my bedroom desk, as if awaiting another Minecraft session.

Just then, I was surprised to hear a knock at the front door. After grabbing a butcher knife, I opened the front door. I was surprised to see Logan Moore, my best friend and classmate, in camouflage and holding a sawed-off AR-15.

“Christian, holy sh*t! I thought you were disintegrated!” said Logan.

“Same as you!” I said, “How did you survive?!”

“How did you survive?!” asked Logan.

“Fallout shelter” I asked.

Logan said, “Cool! Like one of those Fallout vaults! I was in a subway station in Koreatown when it happened! They shut us all in. My family’s still there, last I saw! I managed to escape through a service ladder!”

“Why would you leave?” I asked.

“Because the guards were talking about shootin’ everyone and blamin’ it on looters so they could go home. My dad was talking about revoltin’ and escapin’ and he didn’t want me caught in the firefight! I ran into a bunch of street kids and they made me a soldier!” said Logan.

“Soldier?” I asked.

“Yeah, soldier! They’re trying to start their own little place for themselves downtown where no adults can ever find them!” said Logan.

“DOWNTOWN?!” I shrieked, “But that’s where the bomb exploded!”

“That’s the freakin’ point! No adults are dumb enough to go there! Even the military won’t go to Lower Manhattan for six months! So we’ll build our own civilization there free of adults!” said Logan.

“Okay, but won’t people eventually start moving back in?” said Christian.

“In like a hundred years after our broke @$$ government puts up the money for cleanup and reconstruction!” said Logan, “I saw on the news today that reconstruction might take up to 200 years! And that’s after the five year evacuation is up!”

“That’s believable,” I said, “Remember that bridge that snapped in an earthquake last year? They said that might take ten years to fix! Stupid government!”

“That’s right!” said Logan, “Now do you want to join me or do you want to wait for that stupid adult government to come and save you?”

“I’ll think about it. But I gotta see what little setup you’ve got going on first,” said Christian.

“Fair enough! Follow me!” said Logan.

“Wait!” I said, “I gotta look for help to free my boss trapped in a fallout shelter”.

“Then let’s freaking help him for f*ck’s sake!” said Logan.

“There’s a big chunk of building blocking the shelter; that’s the problem!” I said.

“Then grab a sledgehammer and let’s ██████ free him!” said Logan, “We don’t need no damned adults! They got us into this mess, so we should have nothin’ to do with ‘em! I’m only rescuin’ yer boss because we need more kids for Pillow Fort City!”

“Pillow Fort City?” said Christian.

“You’ll see what I’m talkin’ about in a hot minute, bud!” said Logan.

I searched the townhouse’s garage and found a steel saw and a sledgehammer. Then, me and Logan went to the ruins of the comic book store to free Joe.

“Christian,” said Joe, “Is that you?”

“Yeah!” I said, “and I found an old friend to help us out!”.

“You didn’t go to the hospital and talk to the military?!” asked Joe.

“No,” I said, “I found a steel saw and a sledgehammer. We’ll free you ourselves!”

“This better f*cking work!” said Joe.

“Don’t be a wuss!” said Logan.

I used the saw to cut the steel beam into pieces, while Logan smashed up anything that wasn’t steel with the sledgehammer. Joe was able to get out after that.

“Christian, good job!” said Joe, “Who is this?”

“This is Logan Moore,” I said, “The only surviving friend I have. Unless we count you.”

“Christian, time to say goodbye to your boss here and come downtown with me!” said Logan.

“NO!” said Joe, “Both of you are heading to the nearest hospital with me to negotiate our way out of New York!”

“There IS no way out!” said Logan, “They have a barbed wire fence barricading every inch of Manhattan! They even called in warships to block off the harbor! They’re not letting anyone enter or leave unless they’re military!”

“Even if we have to stay in the city, there is no freaking way I’m letting either of you hooligans get even a little too close to Lower Manhattan!” said Joe.

“Then I guess I have no choice!” said Logan. Logan pulled out a tranquilizer dart gun and shot Joe in the side with it. He said, “Christian, help me drag this adult to Pillow Fort City!”

“Just to be clear...” I asked, “The radiation levels are okay, right?”

Logan said, “Yeah! They’re not quite back to the legal limit yet but the legal limit is less than 5 rems and the dose where you get symptoms is like 25 rems! It’s 15 at the actual bomb site last I checked!”

“Okay, I’ll follow your lead,” I said, “But cautiously...”

“Be cautious then, mungo!” said Logan.

As it turns out, Logan knew what he was talking about. “Pillow Fort City” was in reality the Moxy NYC Hotel in Lower Manhattan. The hotel was banged up from the blast but still in stable condition. It was the only place in Lower Manhattan with power, as it had its own generator and one of the kids who took up residence there was the son of an electrician and knew how to work it. The hotel was inhabited by 15 kids ranging from 11 to 17, mostly members of a pre-blast teenage street gang from NoHo that survived the blast by virtue of being in an abandoned subway station (where they had their secret stash of beer) when it happened. A week after the blast they’d set off for the Moxy, where one of the 13-year-olds had a mother who worked in the housekeeping department and thus knew the hotel well. One of the older teenagers had the idea to turn it into their own little community, and thus Pillow Fort City was born.

Logan and Christian arrived with the tranquilized Joe around 11:30. Logan gave the secret gang sign and vouched for Christian. The “desk clerk” Grey Corbus let them in, telling them to lock Joe in an unused (and room temperature) freezer until they could figure out what to do with him.

The self-appointed dictator of Pillow Fort City, by the name of James Blaine (or Death Knell as he preferred to be called), got on the PA system shortly after and called everyone to the hotel’s banquet hall.

When everyone was seated, he began to give a speech: “Kids and teens of Pillow Fort City! I want to remind everyone why we’re living in a half destroyed hotel instead of at home playing video games surrounded by our friends! It’s ADULTS! I don’t know who did the Friday the 13th attack or why, but it sure as ████ wasn’t a bunch of kids. It’s adults’ fault we’re in this mess. Adults destroyed New York City and killed our friends and family! They won’t let us drink beer or stay out after 7, but they’ll sure as ████ drop bombs on us!”

“You ██████ tell em, Death Knell!” yelled Logan.

“Adults should not just get to end the world at the push of a button! If they want to put us through ████, we should have a say in it!” said Death Knell.

“████ yeah!” said the crowd.

“Our new civilization, Pillow Fort City, is founded on the great truth that adults are at war with all of us! And the few that aren’t, failed to protect us! Well I’ve had it! If they won’t protect us, then we will protect ourselves!” said Death Knell.

“████ yeah!” cheered the crowd once again.

I raised my hand and said, “Death Knell, I have a question....”

“What do you want? And who are you?” said Death Knell.

“My name is Christian Allen...” I said, “Aren’t there 17 year olds in this group? What happens when they turn 18? Will they be kicked out?”

Death Knell replied, “We’ll cross that bridge when we ██████ get to it, okay?”

Grey asked, “What are we gonna do about the prisoner, Death Knell?”

“I say we kill him and be done with it!” said another teenager named Karinne Jacobs (or Wild One as she liked to be called).

“NO!” yelled Logan. “It’ll attract unwanted military attention! We should just drop him off somewhere!”

“Isn’t the whole point of our community to get rid of adults for what they did to us?” said Wild One, “If so we should kill him!”

“I say we use him,” I suggested, “I came here with money and jewelry taken from my parents who were killed in the war. He can get us things we want by bribing the military. Including an escape from New York City for anyone who wants it!”

“How much money?” asked Death Knell.

“I didn’t count the money but the jewelry should be worth big bucks for us!” I replied.

“Okay,” said Death Knell, “You’re officially welcomed to the community and hereby appointed treasurer! Your new name is Crucifix! Crucifix Allen!”

“Welcome, mate!” said Logan.

“Thanks...” I said.

Just then, 16 year old Alex Feng (or “Fang” as he liked to be called), burst into the banquet hall and said, “Death Knell, the prisoner’s awake!”

“Christian, Logan, you’re gonna have to deal with this,” said Death Knell, “You go talk to him, and I’ll have Tommy Whispers get your room ready.”

“Yes, sir!” said Logan.

In the freezer room, Logan said to Joe, “Sorry we had to do this to ya, Comic Book Guy. But we can’t have the military gettin’ their ██████ hands on us!”

“Let me out of here!” said Joe, “and I’ll do whatever you want!”

“You’re gonna go to the military and without revealing our location, bribe them to look the other way on our activities!” I shouted.

Joe said, “What has this situation done to you, Christian?! What happened to the Christian I used to know three weeks ago? Who loved comic books and Pokémon?”

“The bomb killed him,” I said.

“Just like it done killed our friends and family!” said Logan.

“You’re ██████ off,” said Joe, “I get it, I do. But whatever you’re trying to accomplish here, it’s not gonna go your way.”

“Don’t you see what the government’s trying to do, Comic Book Guy?” said Logan, “They blockaded New York City so we all run out of food and supplies and die! They probly dropped the bomb too!”

“The government’s airlifting supplies in!” said Joe.

“I done opened one of those care packages yesterday with Death Knell! It was ██████ empty!” said Logan.

“Is that so? Well, get me some real evidence,” said Joe, “And I’ll help you out.”

“Okay,” I said, “We’ll do it. If we’re not back in two days with enough evidence to blow you away... then I guess stay right there because you can’t go anywhere else!”

After getting some much-needed rest, Logan and I set out looking for a “care package” that afternoon to prove that what Logan said about the care packages was true.

While our cell phones weren’t getting any reception, that didn’t stop us from using our cell phone cameras to snap a picture of an unopened care package. As Logan said, it was empty.

“So the government really did do it! They planted the bomb!” I said, trembling at the thought.

“Yeah, mungo!” said Logan, “That’s what I been tryna tell ya!”

“You’re close, but you’re a bit off!” said an old man with a scraggly beard and unkempt gray hair, carrying an AK-47 and wearing an unkempt police uniform.

“Who the ████ are you?!” said Logan.

It took a second, but I realized the man was my great uncle Ray Allen, a police officer who worked for the Special Victims Unit, affectionately known as Captain Blue by those fortunate enough to know him.

“Uncle Captain Blue!” I said, “I thought for sure you were dead!”

“I thought the same of you, Christian!” said Captain Blue. “I searched your house a few days after the bomb went off. Your whole family was in there dead, except for you. I went to your school too, only to find it empty. So I assumed you were disintegrated. I survived because the 11th precinct had a working bomb shelter.”

I embraced Captain Blue fiercely and said, “I’m so glad you’re alive! You’re the only family I have left in New York City!”

“I’m glad to see you too!” said Captain Blue, “Come with me, I’m gonna explain everything to you.”

Captain Blue’s house was in Koreatown next to a hospital full of military personnel, so we entered through a back alley. Once we got there, Captain Blue explained his theory of what happened.

“You want to know who did this?” said Captain Blue, “It wasn’t the government. It was Fido Incorporated. You know, the company that made the COVID vaccines when you were little. They recently came out with a drug called Radix that can reverse radiation sickness completely. Only without a significant source of radiation here in the States, there was no use for the drug. So Fido bought a nuclear bomb from a traitor within the Trump administration by the name of Ellis Lucco, the Defense Secretary. He is a secret deep state operative, as my investigation proved, looking for a way to sabotage Trump (and now Mr. Zeldin). So he agreed to have the bomb smuggled into New York City by Ryder Truck in exchange for $500 million from Fido. Fido sells the drug at $5,000 a dose, so it only took them selling 12 million tablets of Radix to the mayors of New York City, Newark, and Jersey City for a profit of over $57 billion.”

“Unbelievable,” I said, “How did nobody stop them?”

“Lucco probably tricked Zeldin into approving a transfer of the bomb to Nuclear Base Maine. Then, the people responsible for transporting it parked the Ryder Truck, fled for their lives, and detonated it remotely!” said Captain Blue.

“What about the empty care packages?” asked Logan.

“Ehh, probably a mistake. I just opened one full of supplies an hour ago in front of Precinct 11,” said Captain Blue.

“So you don’t think this goes all the way up to President Zeldin?” I asked, thinking of all the possibilities.

“He’s the only one with clean hands in this,” said Captain Blue, “As far as I can tell. He lost family in the attack.”

“How many do you think are dead?” asked Logan.

“Official numbers are 155,000 dead, 100,000 injured. Worst terror attack in human history!” said Captain Blue.

“Is there any way out of New York City?” I asked.

“The government says they’ll start evacuating the non-injured in a month,” says Captain Blue, “They’ve blockaded the city for now to keep all of the nonsense contained. So where are you two hiding out?”

“The Moxy Hotel,” I said, “Or as Logan calls it, Pillow Fort City.”

“That close to the bomb site?!” said Captain Blue, “Here, let me check you for radiation with my Geiger counter!” Captain Blue scanned us for radiation, finding only slightly more than normal on me and twice the normal amount on Logan (still not enough to be harmful), “Well, I guess the government’s estimates were correct. Only barely more than normal on both of you three weeks and a day later.”

“Told ya it was safe, mungo!” said Logan.

“Still, it’s probably better you and your friends go somewhere else. Why don’t we move you and your friends to Precinct 11? It’s a lot further from Ground Zero and you can get medical care and we can keep an eye on you!” said Captain Blue.

“Absolutely f*cking not!” said Logan, “I’m not letting some beat cop shut us down when we’re doing a better job of running the hotel than the damned U.S. government is at helping suffering New Yorkers!”

“Fine,” said Captain Blue, “But I’m going to monitor you from outside the hotel in case you need anything.”

Just then, Logan’s walkie-talkie buzzed to life. Death Knell said, “Logan, where are you? You better not have ratted us out!”

Logan answered, “It’s okay! Christian’s uncle is coming with food and supplies for us!” He looked at Captain Blue with a “play along” sort of look. Captain Blue nodded in agreement.

“If he’s an adult, keep him at a distance!” said Death Knell.

Captain Blue grabbed the radio and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. I’m just here to provide emergency aid should your ‘community’ need it. I’m not military. I’ll just stand across the street with my SVU automatic and make sure nobody bothers you.”

Death Knell sighed and said, “Logan, if he rats us out, it’s your head!”

“Don’t worry! He’s good. He even knows who detonated the bomb!” said Logan.

“Fine,” said Death Knell, “Bring him here.”

With Death Knell’s approval, Captain Blue walked with me and Logan back to the Moxy. As we all agreed, Captain Blue stood in the abandoned street and began patrolling the area. Me and Logan went back to the freezer where Joe was being held prisoner.

“Took ya long enough” said Joe, “What did you find out?”

“We ran into Christian’s uncle, Captain Blue,” said Logan, “He has this whole theory about the bomb that might interest you.”

“Can I come out now?” said Joe.

“Sure,” I said, “You’re free to go. But don’t rat us out. We already have my uncle, Captain Blue, to keep us safe.”

“Is he police? Military?” asked Joe.

“Police,” I answered, “He’s a police captain, in fact.”

“All right,” said Joe, “I’ll keep your secret. You seem like you have things under control here.”

With that, we released Joe, and he began the long walk back to the comic book store.

I didn’t witness most of the following events (Joe told me about them later), so forgive me if they’re not entirely accurate...

Before heading back to his ruined store and fallout shelter, Joe spoke with Captain Blue to hear his theory of what happened. He readily believed it.

Just as Joe turned onto the street where his ruined comic book store was, he was approached by two women carrying machine guns.

“You from around here?” asked the taller of the two women.

“Yeah, I used to have my store here,” said Joe.

“You want out of New York? We found a way out that the government overlooked. We can show it to you for a price!” said the shorter woman.

“Sure,” said Joe, “But who are you two exactly?”

“I’m Ezzy Frank, and this is Harmony Montgomery,” said the taller woman, “We’ve formed a secret organization called The Subway dedicated to helping people escape New York.”

“Why do we need to escape? They’re gonna let us out next month,” said Joe, “And they’re bringing in food and supplies for us.”

“Fido Incorporated is kidnapping people to experiment on them. They’re doing it with the full support of the Department of Defense. If the government is at all to be trusted when they say they’ll let you out in a month, it’s only if you’re lucky enough to escape being kidnapped. By the way, the experiments Fido is doing are 100% fatal! That’s why the Department of Defense has locked us in New York! They want to experiment on people until death, then blame it on the bomb!” said Harmony.

“Okay, then I’d better get out of New York!” said Joe, “How much do you want for me to know your secret?”

“Five hundred dollars, or an equivalent in crypto,” said Ezzy.

After hesitating for a moment, Joe forked over a debit card. “This debit card has just over five hundred dollars on it. It’s yours!” said Joe.

“Great!” said Ezzy, “Come with me!”

“Wait! There’s a group of children holed up in the Moxy Hotel! I have to warn them!” said Joe.

“We’ll take care of that,” said Ezzy, “Children get free passage. Now come on!”

Joe followed Ezzy and Harmony to South Street, where they stopped at an open manhole. Harmony told Joe, “Sir, we’ve turned this manhole into a secret tunnel that leads into a closed subway to Queens. Queens is connected to the outside world, so you can get out from there.”

“Thank you!” said Joe, “I wish you all the best!”

“You seem like a good guy,” said Ezzy, “Say, how would you like to help us expose Fido and free New York City?”

“Sure,” said Joe.

“Okay. You are to go to somewhere where you’ll be safe, then call my friend Artie Brennan at 1-212-888-6243,” said Ezzy, “The bomb took out cell reception in Manhattan, but he’s in Queens, so you’ll be able to reach him.”

“Okay,” said Joe.

“Good luck,” said Ezzy, “You’re gonna need it.”

“Good luck to you too!” said Joe.

Joe climbed into the manhole, then followed the white arrows painted on the walls to a closed subway station and climbed out through a newly-made hole opening to a closed restaurant inside the subway station. After making his way out of the subway station, he ran as fast as he could to a safe location, then placed a call to his cousin Jeffery on Martha’s Vineyard.

“Hello?” said Jeffery.

“Hey, this is Joe,” said Joe.

“Joe?!” said Jeffery, “Your fallout shelter worked!”

“Yeah,” said Joe, “It did! Any chance I can come visit you until I can find a better place to live?”

“Of course!” said Jeffery, “I got a room in my beach house and a job for ya at my ice cream store! Question: how’d you get out of Manhattan? I thought they had it locked down?”

“It’s a long story,” said Joe.

“I get it!” said Jeffery, “Just head down to Long Beach and I’ll meet you there in my yacht!”

“By the way, how are things on Martha’s Vineyard?” said Joe.

“Life’s starting, starting to go back to normal. There’s checkpoints and road blocks everywhere, but we’ve been trying to pretend things are normal!” said Jeffery.

“I’m glad life is getting back to normal so fast!” said Joe.

“Yeah, it’s weird, but what can you do?” said Jeffery, “Can’t stay in refugee camps in the countryside forever! Anyway, gotta get ready! See ya cuz!”

“Bye,” said Joe.

Joe made his way across Queens to Long Beach. By then, his cousin Jeffery had arrived in his yacht, the Money Bags Express.

Joe attempted to shake Jeffery’s hand, but Jeffrey said, “Let’s postpone that handshake till we get you cleaned off!”

“Good idea,” said Joe.

Joe headed to the bathroom to take a shower while Jeffery steered his yacht back towards Martha’s Vineyard.

Meanwhile, back in Manhattan, Ezzy and Harmony rushed to the Moxy Hotel to warn us “Pillow Fort City kids” about what they knew about Fido Inc’s secret experiments. Finding Captain Blue there guarding the entrance, Ezzy asked, “You guarding this place?”

“Yes,” said Captain Blue.

“You’ve got a group of kids inside, right?” asked Ezzy.

“Yes,” said Captain Blue.

“You need to gather them up and follow me!” said Ezzy, “Fido Inc. would love to have all of your kids for their fatal experiments. I know a way out of New York City. We need to use it before they are caught and killed.”

“Wait, Fido is experimenting on New Yorkers?” said Captain Blue.

“Yes, now come on!” said Ezzy.

“Hold on, let me radio Death Knell!” said Captain Blue.

“Death Knell?” asked Ezzy.

“The leader of these kids’ little community,” said Captain Blue, “Death Knell, we got trouble! Fido Inc. is kidnapping New Yorkers and experimenting on them fatally! We have to get out of New York!”

“No way! We can take them! We got like a hundred different guns here in Pillow Fort City!” said Death Knell.

“This is no time for silly games!” said Captain Blue, “We need to get you out of here now!”

“We’re staying and fighting!” said Death Knell.

“If we get out of New York City, we can tell the world what’s going on! We’ll be heroes!” said Captain Blue.

“We can be heroes here!” said Death Knell.

“Fine,” said Captain Blue, “I’ll see about a raid on Fido’s headquarters by Police Precinct 11! Fido’s headquarters aren’t far from there! But you all have to go into hiding! Come to my house, we’ll hide you in the basement!”

“Fine,” said Death Knell.

After hiding the members of the Pillow Fort City community, including me and Logan, in his basement, Captain Blue rushed back to Police Precinct 11 and told his fellow officers about Fido’s experiments.

“Everyone, listen up! I have a report from a trusted informant that Fido Inc. was responsible for the attack on New York City, and that they’re experimenting on New Yorkers. We need to raid their headquarters immediately!” said Captain Blue.

“Without a warrant?!” said one of the officers, “We won’t be able to use any of the evidence!”

“New York is under martial law! Warrants don’t apply here!” said Captain Blue.

“And how are we supposed to get there? The nuke fried our squad cars’ spark plugs!” said another officer.

“We walk there. Get your riot shields, men. We’re raiding Fido’s headquarters!”

As ordered, the officers of Precinct 11 gathered their riot gear and began the short trek to Fido Inc’s headquarters. Fido had eyes on the street, however, and knew about it well in advance. They rushed their employees out of the building and detonated it.

“████ it!” said Captain Blue, “Place them under arrest for blowing up the building!”

The precinct cops chased down Fido’s employees and placed them under arrest for blowing up the building (which is the crime they could get them on for the moment).

After rushing them back to Police Precinct 11 and booking them, Captain Blue took the chief scientist at Fido’s Manhattan Headquarters to the interrogation room. From what I would see later, it was quite the wild interview.

“Clayton Holdren,” said Captain Blue, “You have been experimenting on innocent people in New York City, resulting in their deaths. And just now I watched you blow up your own headquarters, probably with innocent victims inside. Not to mention your company bought a nuclear bomb from traitor Ellis Lucco and detonated it in the Hudson River. If you spill the beans on your organization, I can talk to the Feds and help you stay off Death Row and out of Gitmo.”

“I’ll be exonerated!” said Holdren, “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“You’ve done plenty,” said Captain Blue, “We’re gonna put your @$$ so far underneath ████ itself that Satan will look down and see you below him!”

“Fine. Get me a deal, signed by the D.A, and approved by a judge, and I’ll sing like a bird,” said Holdren, “And make sure it includes protective custody. Oh, and fetch me a lawyer.”

“Fair enough,” said Captain Blue, “I’ll get you a lawyer and talk to the D.A. But you better be prepared to talk.”

Captain Blue already had a lawyer for Holdren, New York City’s only surviving trial judge, and the D.A. in the building, having summoned them soon after arriving back at the station. The judge and the D.A. agreed to the deal and went to talk to Holdren while Captain Blue recorded it all.

“So, Mr. Holdren,” said the D.A, “You better have something g*ddamn good to say if you want to spend your life in a cushy P.C. unit instead of in Gitmo and/or on mainline at Sing Sing, where the inmates will rape your sorry @$$ so hard that they’ll be able to bend you over and use you as a bean bag board!”

“I do,” said Holdren, “I started working for Fido fresh out of college in 1987. They’ve been doing this sort of thing since the ’90s. They started by kidnapping Indigenous people for their experiments. They targeted them specifically because the Feds have a hard time prosecuting crimes against them...”

“What was the objective of these experiments?” asked the D.A.

“To develop a panacea, a drug capable of curing any infectious illness from bacteria to parasites,” said Holdren, “Trouble is, so far all of the chemicals we’ve tried have been 100% fatal. Until now. It turns out that Radix, the anti-radiation drug we used the New York attack to sell by the millions, is that panacea, as we discovered entirely by accident. It works within minutes with only minor side effects.”

“So the bombing has a profit motive?” said the D.A.

“Yes,” said Holdren, “We wanted to sell Radix by the millions of doses to New York and New Jersey for the purpose of curing radiation sickness, and we wanted to create a power vacuum where we could kidnap citizens and experiment on them with impunity, among other things.”

“How high up does this go?” asked the D.A.

“Right up to Ellis Lucco, Secretary of Defense,” said Holdren. “They bribed him for the bomb. Ellis wanted in on the plan because he’s a deep state spy who seeks to destabilize America on behalf of globohomo!”

“Well he certainly succeeded at that!” said Captain Blue, “New York City is ironically the most peaceful part of the country right now!”

“Correct,” said Holdren.

“How do you know all this?” asked the D.A.

“I’m in charge of an entire division, the one in New York City. I know things.” said Holdren.

“How many people has your division killed?” asked the D.A.

“All time or just since the bomb?” asked Holdren.

“Start with ‘since the bomb’,” said the D.A.

“Over 700,” said Holdren, “Last I checked.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holdren.” said the D.A, “Just sign here, and we will move you to a protective custody joint upstate for a life sentence. You’ll avoid the death penalty and stay out of Gitmo and gen pop at Sing Sing, where you’d no doubt be penetrated in more ways than one.”

Holdren signed the deal, and the judge took it to the records hall at the courthouse to enter it into the record. Holdren was removed and placed in a secure van to transport him to a protective custody prison in upstate New York.

Meanwhile, Captain Blue put the recording onto a CD and gave it to Ezzy Frank, who delivered it to her friend Artie Brennan, who thanks to a call from Joe Daines had already been briefed as to what to expect. Brennan agreed to air the video on his website “Prove The Truth”, which had been America’s favorite anti-government and pro-Zeldin news platform for several years running.

Brennan began his broadcast as millions of loyal listeners from across the country (and indeed the world) tuned in. This included the “Pillow Fort City” group, myself included, who watched it from Captain Blue’s basement thanks to Captain Blue connecting his house to StarLink.

“My fellow Americans, this is Artie Brennan,” he said, “I have never misled you, and I’m not starting now! Today America is in grave danger! We are under attack by a deep state terror group that represents itself as a pharmaceutical company named Fido Incorporated. They purchased an atomic bomb from a traitor within the United States government and nuked New York City to sell their newest product! I have the proof right here in this bombshell recording taken by the heroes of the Manhattan SVU! Listen closely and you’ll see that I was right about everything all along! Today the New World Order ship sinks!”

Brennan played the CD recording, saying very few words throughout, letting Holdren do most of the talking as the horrified millions listened in.

“So what happens now?” asked Wild One.

“Riots, looting, and mass executions of anyone associated with Fido,” said Death Knell.

“I sure hope so!” said Logan.

“I mean what happens to us? Adults are gonna be moving back into New York City now, and the hotel is owned by someone after all,” said Wild One.

“We’ll get a new headquarters. A real headquarters! We’ll rebrand ourselves as a friendly Soho teen club or something like that. We’ll help bring life back to Lower Manhattan by helping people out and stuff. And we’ll keep the adult-free theme, too. We’ll do it all without any adult help!” I said.

“That is a great idea!” said Death Knell, “If only I could join you.”

“Why are you not able to join us?” asked Grey.

“Because I’m not originally from here!” said Death Knell, “I actually live in Atlantic City. I ran away when I was 12 because my parents were utter jerks! I’ve been living on the streets for five years. Captain Blue is a cop, and he’s probably gonna ‘detain’ me and send me home!”

“What kind of jerks were they?” I asked, “Parents can be jerks sometimes for sure, but that’s no reason to run away.”

“The kind of jerks that would break your arm with a sledgehammer because you failed English class in fourth grade.” said Death Knell, “And I’m not even joking. My younger brother is still with them if they haven’t already killed him.”

“That’s not being a jerk,” I said, “That’s abuse bordering on attempted homicide. And if they’re hurting your younger brother, nobody’s gonna send you back! And you’re 17! You’ve got less than a year until you can be on your own for real. Captain Blue will probably just get you into some program until your 18th birthday, then turn you loose onto the street to live your best life in the sewers. I’ve seen him do it before. His station had a GED program going before the bomb! Captain Blue paid me to serve soup at the program under the table until I was old enough to get a work permit.”

“That’s right,” said Captain Blue, “I’ll take you in myself before I let you return to your so-called parents. And getting a GED in New York City is easy. Your future is looking bright! All of your futures are, in fact. We’re gonna get through this together, and we’re going to make New York great again!”

It had been almost three months since the announcement went out from Prove the Truth Radio about the conspiracy leading up to the nuking of New York City. President Zeldin had moved quickly to arrest, imprison, and try all of the perpetrators, up to and including several treasonous members of his own administration. Those months had seen unprecedented civil strife as the public openly destroyed, looted, and murdered anything and anyone having to do with Fido Inc. and the conspirators while the government willingly looked the other way to avoid looking complicit. The few who did get arrested for it were quickly pardoned by their state governors or by Zeldin, fearing the wrath of a country that had finally been united against them.

Zeldin won the delayed 2028 presidential election on December 12th in a landslide, of course, riding a wave of unprecedented popularity for his response to 10/13. The rout was so complete Zeldin even won New York state by 60 points, and New York City by almost 30, which made Captain Blue, a longtime fan of Zeldin dating back to his days in the U.S. House, particularly happy.

Life eventually started to return to New York City, although the most severely affected areas in Lower Manhattan were closed off to everyone but the residents, which included me, now the adopted son of my former boss Joe Daines, and Death Knell, who now called himself by his new name, James Allen, thanks to being taken in by my great-uncle, Captain Blue.

The Pillow Fort City gang, now called The Knights of the Fallen, still met weekly, but in a brand new headquarters in Harlem paid for by a grant from the city. Still an adult-free club (except for Joe Daines and Captain Blue who jointly paid the bills), as I suggested we turned our attention to telling our story, holding group therapy for the survivors of the blast, organizing events for the youth, spreading a message of hope, and raising money to rebuild the city. A few of the club members even built an entire rough design for a rebuilt Lower Manhattan in Minecraft, parts of which were actually taken seriously by the city. The city had a long way to go, of course, but things were looking up.

For Christmas, Joe Daines and I went on vacation to Martha’s Vineyard, home to Joe’s cousin Jeffrey. I had visited the old whaling island turned summer playground for the wealthy with my now-deceased family a few times, and it brought back plenty of memories of happier times, which I kept in the back of my mind, as I still do to this day.

At dinner, Jeffrey served a hearty meal of turkey with the usual fixings. When it came time to say grace, Jeffery said, “Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal and your continued goodwill towards us. We are especially grateful for Christian and Joe, who you preserved through nuclear ████ and refined by the fire. We thank you that although nothing that happened was okay, our little family world is okay. In your name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” said everyone at the table.

“Christian, how’d you survive all that radiation?” asked his eight year old adopted cousin Jack Daines.

“A fallout shelter,” I said, "Under the comic book store..."

“I mean after you got out! Why didn’t you grow a third arm or something?” asked Jack.

“That’s not how radiation works,” said Joe.

“Okay, but why don’t you both glow green?” asked Jack.

“I wondered about that too,” said Joe, “But apparently you don’t glow green if you’re radioactive. Not even Mr. Burns. That only happens in comic books!”

“Yeah,” I said, “Besides, most of the radiation was gone by the time we got out!”

“Speaking of which,” said Joe, “You enjoying your Batman Reloaded #7 comic book, Christian?”

“Yeah, Joe, I already finished reading it!” I said, “Thanks for the early Christmas present!”

“You’re welcome,” said Joe.

Little did I know that wouldn't be the last apocalypse I would face in life. In fact, it would be one of several.