Nuclear Reign

October 4, 2047

My mother took us to the grocery store today. She said that even though we’re okay and Wisconsin is okay, the country isn’t. That we need to buy supplies and prepare ourselves as if we’ll be incinerated tomorrow. That doesn’t necessarily make sense to me, though. When we get hit, if we get hit, we won’t survive, let alone will the Cup-of-Soups and water bottles.

Everyone’s mom must have had the same idea because the grocery store was packed with people grabbing what they could. I could over hear people talking about how we’re entering a nuclear holocaust.

When I asked my mom about it, she told me not to listen to rumors and to see if there were any generators left. I could tell by the expression on her face that she believed what the man had said, even if she didn’t want to.

By the time our cart was only half full, the store was depleted. No food. No water. No batteries. There was only a magazine in isle five, so I grabbed it. When my mom gave me a weird look, I told her that when this whole mess kills me, it’s going to be the blast or the radiation to do it, not boredom.
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