by Liam Scheff.
1 of 15×15
I woke to the alarm bell. But I wake to the alarm bell every day. What’s new…We’ve been petitioning the mayor to change the value on the radiation clock, so as we’re not rattled awake at 5 am, when the morning breezes breach the mountains, but he says it’s good for us to be reminded what we’re up against – the invisible enemy. “Radionuclides,” the three sisters: tritium, strontium, cesium.
We tell him that the alarm bell doesn’t stop radionuke-whatevers, and us not getting enough sleep craps up the whole morning’s school or work, so we’re all extra grumpy by lunch hour. He doesn’t care. He’s such a crack-head.
I mean, not a crack-head like it used to mean. But he’s as much the Mayor as I am ‘director of the 6th squad.’ Before a year ago, there was no sixth squad, and he was no mayor. He was a car dealer. And there no squads. There was nothing. But then the reactor breached, or that’s how they called it, and Mayfield was burnt. And all the towns downriver had to run. Nothing was safe for 200 miles. it was bad over there.