First Ever Finished Story - No Title Yet

(So I finally wrote some kind of fiction. I think I am somewhat happy with it. Hopefully my teacher, and more importantly you awesome readers, will agree.)

   T-minus 3 hours...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

“Dear Jesus…”

                The monitor screen flashed in front of Lieutenant James’ face, bright, focused, and brutally clear:

                Attack on United States and NATO allies much by the Central Middle Eastern Coalition imminent. Likelihood of nuclear and bioweapon attacks: 98% probability. CMEC forces likely to launch missiles and deploy military aircraft equipped with nuclear weapons within the next 3 hours, if such weapons have not already been deployed. Paris, France subjected to nuclear attack at 0300 hours without provocation. Casualties in metropolitan and surrounding areas estimated as high as 80%.All United States Military outposts and research facilities are hereby ordered to seek immediate emergency shelter indefinitely. The United States is in a state of NUCLEAR WAR. Nuclear attacks on United States soil by enemies are IMINENT…

                And then nothing. Not one word more. James sat back in his chair and exhaled. His heart felt as if it might explode, and his head was spinning so felt as if he might be sick right there on his desk. The fear had not yet set in, just a feeling of overwhelming shock.

                What the hell had happened? He had heard rumors, as an officer he heard as many as anyone, rumors that relations with the CMEC were not good. He had heard jokes about it, how we were all going down in flames and smoke sometime soon. A big kaboom. And now France had been hit? Eighty percent casualties? God, that had to be at least fifty billion people. One didn’t hear much of the outside world on such a godforsaken piece of rock, but something had to have gone bad very fast.

                And now what was he supposed to do about it? There were no real instructions. In a way he was surprised he had received any notification at all. Shocked that anyone even remembered this backwater little hole of an outpost. But the instructions he had received were almost laughable. “Seek immediate emergency shelter indefinitely”? You had to be kidding. It meant something had gone very, very, wrong. And now it was every man for himself. Seek cover, abandon ship, hide your children, and pray the towelhead’s little toys don’t find you.

                The fear hit him suddenly, like lead in his whole torso. It weighed on him, paralyzed him almost. For a second all he could see were red skies and mushroom clouds. Total annihilation. Oh, God, what  was he supposed to do? He clasped his head in his hands, elbows on the desk. The lights and sounds of the computer monitors buzzed around him, oblivious to him. Finally after several minutes James sat up. He glanced at the huge security screen monitors across the room, and then gazed intently at them. They were all in the mess hall having a party. He was one of only five military stationed at the outpost. A lieutenant (himself), one sergeant, and a handful of corporals whose main duty was to make sure these crazy scientists didn’t blow themselves up.

                James wasn’t even sure what it was they did out here in the miserable desert. Some of the researchers had tried to explain it to him. Accelerating mass to get energy or something like that. They were miles from God-knows-where, somewhere between New Mexico and Arizona. The exact location was kept even from the military stationed at the facility, and the scientists were flown here in teams of 20, blindfolded the whole way in. Welcome to home for the next six months boys. He had seen three of these teams come and go, which meant this one was the fourth, and he had been here for over a year and a half. He had planned on this being his last service to the country, retiring after this abysmally hot stint in the sand.

                It was the halfway point in this particular round of research, plus the scientists had apparently made some kind of breakthrough, thus cause enough for a party. He watched their smiling faces on the camera. Someone had grilled some burgers in the mess hall kitchen and a bottle of whiskey was being passed around. Even some of his men had joined in, having become friends with these quirky individuals who were always buried in some book or computer screen. Someone raised a glass for a toast. A comment was made and then laughter. They didn’t have a clue.

                The fear was becoming less paralyzing now as his hardwired military training kicked in. Think, James, think. Options, what are the options? There was an emergency shelter on site, it was underground, and he knew that it was supposed to be nuke safe. He briefly wondered if anything could really protect you from one of those things going off. He had seen the pictures that everyone else had, pictures of the devastation caused during World War 2 in Japan, plus the information they had pounded in him during training, of just what those things were capable of doing.

                The problem was the shelter. It had enough food and medical supplies to last five people a year, enough time presumably for the fallout to wear off and conditions to be safe enough to venture outside. Five people, and there were twenty five of them living in this outpost. He did a quick mental calculation. If they could somehow manage to squeeze everyone into that shelter, the food supplies would last 73 days. That was not even three months. The fear washed over him again. He again buried his head in his hands, and behind him the security monitors told the tale of the party going on below…

T-minus 90 minutes…

                He must have sat in that position for an hour. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks streaked with tears.  This wasn’t like him, now wasn’t the time. But what could he do? He had run through the solutions in his mind at least a dozen times. He could of course, call his people up to the security room. He would explain to them what the situation was. They wouldn’t panic, that wasn’t like them. He would tell them that they were going to have to seek shelter in the bunker, leave the scientists on their own. There wasn’t enough room for them after all. But could he really do that? How fair was that? Just let them die without even a word? They would, of course, perish none the wiser, not knowing their guardians had abandoned them. Most of them would probably be in such a drunken stupor that the thought would never even cross their mind before the blinding flash, and then nothing. But who was he to play God?

                Then don’t play at it, he told himself. Tell them all what’s going to happen. Explain that only five of us even have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this alive. How did they do it in the old days, draw straws or something like that? Luck of the draw, random chance. That would be fair, wouldn’t it? But then what if you don’t get picked, Mr. Prophet of Doom? What if the dice rolls and your number doesn’t come up? Or better yet, what do you tell the people who don’t get picked? Sorry sir, looks like your luck just ran out, might I suggest taking a long swig from that bottle? In all reality, how was that any more fair?

                He had these people’s lives in his hands, that much was crystal clear to him. Why even save anyone, after all? He could live in that shelter comfortably for over a year, eating and drinking the rations meant for five people, without the crowding. He put his head in his hands again. There was no way he could do that. James had never found much that he couldn’t do. Granted, he wasn’t great at everything, but he was good or mediocre at just about anything. It had worked for him on countless times before, merits and promotions coming easily enough. He had met his match here though. This playing God stuff was out of his league. Even when he thought he had made a decision, he second guessed himself a second later. There was simply not an easy solution.

                But he had to find one. He looked back at his computer screen. The message had been sent to him two hours ago. Something had to be done, and soon.

                He looked back up at the security monitors. Many of them had obviously had enough drinks to start feeling it. Someone was apparently playing some kind of music, because about ten of the group had cleared a space and were dancing around like they were in a nightclub. Boy, they must have not taught dancing lessons in engineering school.

                He studied the faces he could see. Some of them were hard, types that didn’t much care for partying but figured it was as good a time as any to celebrate. Others were fully engaged, this being a time to finally let off some steam and actually enjoy themselves for once. Some had had way too much to drink already, and the party was a lot less fun now than it had been an hour ago. James had watched people as long as he could remember. He was always fascinated by what he saw. Everyone, he had discovered, had their own story. They had all come from somewhere, more often than not they had done some pretty interesting things, and even more frequently an interesting course of events had led them into the present. He was always enthralled by the thought that his path and theirs had somehow met in the vastness of the cosmos.

                And now he was the one that decided where it ended, and for whom.

                The tears almost came back again. There was no way he could do it. Not in a million years. Maybe someone, somewhere, could have. But not him. He could not take that responsibility. He couldn’t even leave it up to random chance, because in reality he was still choosing to let some die and others live. It would have been better if he could have died with the rest of them and not known any different. He could not play God.

                If it couldn’t end that way for him, ignorant that the end was coming, the ride was almost over, then he would at least extend that mercy to the others. He gazed at the monitors again. Everyone was drunk now, but not the stumbling, throwing up kind of drunk. It was the drunk where you are so high on life nothing else matters. Everything sounds better and tastes better. Life is worth living. Everything is right in the world. A quote crossed his mind, he didn’t know from where, “Eat, drink, and be merry! For tonight we dine in hell!”

                And then he cried. The weeping that comes with knowing that your time is almost up. Regret, of course, hit him. Things that he wished he had done, places he should have seen, words he never should have spoken or should have said more often. But mostly he cried for loss. For the unalterable, overbearing, and unpreventable train wreck that is death. Behind him, the party went on…

                T-minus 10 minutes…

                He had stopped crying. Instead he watched the monitors. Taking it all in. The sun was setting through the windows to his right. One of those gorgeous desert sunsets that are so full of color in such a colorless place. He had written something on his computer, a report of why he made the decision he made. It included a letter to his wife and son. He doubted anyone would ever read it, but why not take the chance? As he looked at the monitors, he wondered how many of those people down there had families. How many people in the world did they care about, and how many cared about them? Life, he thought, was such an intrinsically beautiful thing. In his mind’s eye he could see the web, of all the relationships that anyone had ever had, all the contacts, all the conversations. All of them part of this throbbing, living, being. Maybe not a being in the one sense, but a presence none the less. It was really very appropriate in his mind that all the light should blink out at once. Someone was raising his glass for another toast.

                Finally, he tore his gaze away from the monitors and walked to the window.

                T-Minus 2 minutes…

                He decided he would like to depart while looking at the sunset. Thoughts and emotions were so tangled in his head he couldn’t have unraveled them if he tried. And then suddenly he wasn’t looking at the sunset anymore.

                “Jesus, that’s bright,” he thought.