As the first of the sirens began to howl its message of impending doom, Mr Johnson knew exactly what to do. He had had taken the government's advice to heart, read the official literature, even been on the civil defence courses . As the head of his family, he had inculcated them - his doting wife, teenaged daughter and pubescent son - with a sense of moral duty and had drilled them until they were perfect in their respective roles. "Come on! Come on!" Mr Johnson chivvied them on. But, really, there was no need to.
In the street, however, chaos reigned. People were running, panicking, grabbing whatever they could in the moments before the bombs fell. As a neighbour came running towards the house, Mr Johnson retrieved his hunting rifle and loaded it. "May!" he called out. "Get in the shelter! Trouble!"
As May Johnson hurried to obey her husband, there was a hammering at the front door. "Frank!" came the frantic shout. "It's Joe."
Frank Johnson opened his door a crack: just enough to peer through the gap at his dishevelled neighbour. "What?"
Joe glanced downwards and caught sight of Mr Johnson's readied weapon. "Frank! The sirens! What should I do?"
"Get under cover. Didn't you read the pamphlets I gave you?"
Joe shook his head. "I did, but - you know how it is! Please, Frank. We need help."
"Too late for that," Frank Johnson replied. "Reckon you have two minutes to do whatever you can. You should have been prepared."
"Please!"
Mr Johnson took a step back and raised the barrel of his gun, pointing it at his neighbour's chest. "Good luck, Joe." Then he slammed the front door shut and hurried towards the trapdoor that led to the basement and his family's shelter. As he sealed the entrance to the bunker behind him, a long, rumbling roar shook thee earth. Frank smiled reassuringly at the worried faces of his family. "Just in time," he remarked.
The basement lights flickered, then went out.
An hour after the catastrophe above ground, Frank had his family hard at work. As his instructor had told him, idle minds would soon become restive, worried and fearful. There should always be something to do. So, Frank had set his family to inventorying their supplies. The news was good.
"We have three months of canned goods," Mary reported back to her husband. "And we have 400 gallons of water."
Frank allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. "Good. We can get through this, no problems. All we need is a can opener."
He looked expectantly at his silent family.
