Not a Test…?

I bolt up from my sleep. A slowly rising and falling wailing sound surrounds me. An acoustic wall on every side of me. I check the clock, my eyes still blurred. 2:37 it reads. This siren is as loud as the tornado warnings, but different. The tornado warnings are a steady tone, not like this. I peer outside, and see my neighbors doing the same as I. I turn to turn the light on and I hear the normal tri-tone of getting a text. I flip my phone over; must be a friend wondering if it’s a tornado. Instead, an all capitals text message fills the screen. It says “NATIONAL EMERGENCY. TUNE INTO TELEVISION OR RADIO IMMEDIATELY!”

I run down the hall to get my wife and kids. I don’t tell them what’s going on, I tell them that they should go to the basement now. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to know. As my wife takes each kid by one arm and shepherds them down the stairs, I’m sprinting around the house, grabbing whatever I think we need. I go into our bedroom, scramble for my backpack. I fly into the kitchen, clearing the pantry of everything from cookies to canned peas and shoving them into the backpack. I’m dodging from room to room. My heart is heart beating out of my chest, adrenaline through the roof. I jump down the basement stairs and dump my backpack as I see my wife and kids gathered around the small, ancient television that I had as a kid. The screen is black except for white letters reading: EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM. A robotic voice intones, “This is not a test, a nuclear attack is occurring against the United States. Nuclear weapons are expected to strike the United States within the next ten minutes. Stand by for a message from the President of the United States.”

The siren still blaring all around; with no escape, it becomes unbearable. I instinctively throw my arms around my family, saying, “It’s okay; it’s okay” Of course, they can’t hear me. I can’t even hear myself. My wife is just staring blankly at the TV screen, shaking uncontrollably. The children’s faces distorted and red from crying.

Suddenly, the TV warnings stop. A few seconds later, the sirens stop, an eerie silence fills the air. I have never heard anything quieter in my entire life. The stillness seemed to continue forever, until…