The Fall Of the House of Patton

By St. Wishnevsky

It was almost a relief when the bombs fell. After all those years of cowering and anticipation, the blast that took out Westover was a blessing. It gave us all new rules. We knew what to do. Some of us. I was on my bike, when the northeastern sky flashed sun white. I knew what it was. Some luck, I was in my uncle Charlie Zapharodni's driveway. I dropped my paper bag and bike, scooted up his driveway, pounded at the back door. His wife opened. "Mrs. Zapharodni? Something real bad has happened. Is Uncle Charlie here?""What? Who? Wait, you're Danny's boy, Terry. What happened, was there a car wreck?" She had her apron on, like Betty Crocker, her hands found themselves wadding it up. My shadow on the porch wall moved visibly. I didn't want to look around, but I did. Her eyes let me know what I would see. A huge incandescent dome was rising above the tree line. I couldn't wait to answer her question. I scooted under her arm and headed toward the cellar door. All these houses were the same. She tried to ask three questions at the same time and scream in horror too. I grabbed her hand and tugged as hard as I could. "It's the bomb, run!" My voice broke. I must have scared her, she followed, we had the door open and a foot or two on the stairs before the shock wave hit. Four minutes. Forty miles. Westover. The noise alone was enough to cause injuries. We went down the steps, ass over teakettle, good thing they were carpeted. A jangle of broken glass followed us. "The bomb shelter? Quick!" She freed an arm, pointed, I scooped her up and ran for it. I had never touched a grown woman before, much less had one in my arms. She was a little bit of a thing, smelled of perfume, flour and fear. I had never seen the bomb shelter, but Charlie and my dad worked on it some weekends, after church. I saw what had to be the door, over past the laundry stuff. As soon as she realized I was carrying her, she snapped at me, "Let me down this minute, young man, I can walk!" She couldn't. She collapsed on the floor. "I must have twisted my ankle."I was counting off the seconds in my head, did not like the numbers. I grabbed her armpits, pulled her inside, lifted her up on the bunk, tried to breathe. Asthma.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1521273421
• ISBN13: 9781521273425
• Release Date: May 2017
• Publisher: Independently published
• Length: 335 Pages
• Weight: 1.27 lbs.
• Dimensions: 9.0" x 0.8" x 6.0"