21 Minutes– A Small Section

Earlier this school year, I wrote a novella entitled 21 Minutes. The novella is a fictional take on one family’s rush to escape impending nuclear war. The family has 21 minutes to get to their safe destination. This story is told from the alternating perspectives of the family’s three children. As the clock ticks down, the story alternates between the present and flashbacks. The family’s history slowly unravels as their time quickly evaporates.

This is a small section from the first chapter. It’s nowhere closed to being fully edited, but I thought I’d shared just a taste to see how it reads to some other brains. 🙂

Mom pulls the bacon from the stove and throws it onto a plate sitting on the counter. A stack of golden brown waffles balances unevenly next to it.

“Hey, honey? You should come see this.” My dad’s gruff voice calls out from the living room. Mom strides over to the door. I stay put for a second, staring at the pile of food. The clock on the microwave above the stove blinks furiously. It’s 8:54. Then, I hear my mother’s voice. “Oh, no.” she says softly. I jump up and walk swiftly into the living room.

Dad is watching ABC 7 News, his arms stretched across the scarlet red couch. The remote dangles from his left hand. His back is to me, but I can tell that he is watching the television in deep concentration. I walk to the left, around the end of the couch, and I collapse next to my dad. His strong arms pull me into a hug, and I can almost go back to sleep. Almost. Instead I turn to face the TV, and I read the bold headline scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

“NORTH KOREAN NUCLEAR MISSLES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED. COULD LAUNCH AT ANY SECOND. DESTINATION UNKNOWN.”

I look in horror upon the flashing screen, not believing what I’m reading. The news anchors are babbling on furiously but my ears are ringing. I screw up my face in concentration and listen.
“Well of course we don’t know where they’re going or when they’re going to be launched but for now let’s assume that these nukes are headed for Washington, D.C.” a tall, dark-haired man with a chiseled face is talking loudly and moving his hands an awful lot. “It will take approximately forty one minutes for the missiles to reach the capital. Now we can’t say for sure what will happen, but we know that the whole city will be affected by the blast, and the wreckage and radiation may creep into Maryland and Virginia.”

The word Maryland stings me like a bee. McHenry, Maryland is on the western edge of the state, close to West Virginia. McHenry, Maryland is on the tip of Deep Creek Lake and home to the Wisp Ski Resort. McHenry, Maryland is my home. And now I may have to leave it.

“Could we get blown up?” Dylan asks from the other couch, as if he was asking what’s for lunch in the cafeteria.

Mom hesitates. She bites her nails nervously like she always does. Dylan and Ashley do it too, but not me. I’ve always hated nail biting. It grosses me out.

“Could we Mom?” echoes Ashley from the staircase behind Dylan. I jump. I didn’t even know she was down here. She looks much more awake than the last time I saw her.

“I don’t know babies.” Mom says slowly. “But maybe we shouldn’t stick around to find out.” She finishes, looking over at her husband. I turn to Dad, expecting him to freak out. But instead he nods solemnly and says, “We need to start packing.”

My jaw drops. This can’t be happening. As my dad jumps to his feet, I look at the grandfather clock hanging above the mantle to my left. It is 8:56.