A searing, white-hot flash of light burst over
the horizon, followed by a deafening roar of a colossal explosion, drowning out the wail of
warning sirens. Many had been instantly blinded by looking directly at the light, others were
incinerated on the spot from being too close to the blast. Then there were those lucky enough
to avoid both, but who still got caught in the shockwaves, traveling at supersonic speeds,
destroying anything in its path. Anyone at a safe enough distance saw the skyline was
now dominated by the dark, looming shape of a mushroom cloud – and the sight filled them
with inescapable dread at what was coming next. It had finally happened, the first bomb
had been dropped. And more were on the way, a bombardment of radioactive hellfire
raining down across the world. Nuclear war had broken out, a war without any hope
for survival… yet, there was but one left. The Black Hills mountain range in South Dakota
had once been home to a former army base that was snapped up by a real estate company called Vivos.
But they hadn’t been apartments and condominiums, their dealings were in state-of-the-art,
catastrophe ready doomsday bunkers so people could survive the end of days at affordable
prices. Mason had never been a doomsday prepper, one of those people who seemed a little too
excited about the prospect of the world ending, stockpiling as many guns and cans of soup
as they could cram into their homemade, several thousand dollar panic rooms.
But even though he wasn’t crazy, Mason had always said that there was never
too high a price for a piece of mind; even if fifty five grand wasn’t exactly cheap.
You see, Mason might not have considered himself to be paranoid, but he was certainly
aware. He paid attention to the world around him, noticed the mounting international tensions and
worrying signs on the news. And so, when he heard that a company was selling nuclear bunkers, it
seemed to be a worthwhile investment. After all, if the world didn’t end, he could always refurbish
it into an escape room or a novelty AirBnB. Little did he expect he’d actually get to use it.
Whereas most contingency plans for nuclear Armageddon were focused on ensuring the survival
of the wealthy and powerful, Mason had fallen into a very small niche of people who were aware
that the world was edging closer to destruction, and who could also afford to be prepared for that
outcome. Sure enough, when the nukes started to fly left, right and center, that preparation had
paid off. It wasn’t clear who had fired the first shot, but what was clear, at least to those paying
attention like Mason, was that the bombs had hit other states first. Being at a distance from the
raging fireball caused by the atomic explosion, and far out of range of the electromagnetic
pulse frying power grids and electronic devices, bought him a few precious moments of escape
time. But it wouldn’t be long before the nuclear barrage hit South Dakota as well.
Racing as fast as his car could take him, Mason sped from his home in nearby Hill City to
the mountains, not stopping until he was securely locked inside his bunker. Breathing a sigh of
relief, he was grateful to have made it to safety. And from the sounds of the carnage unfolding
above, he’d made it not a moment too soon. Underground, he was protected from the shockwaves,
extreme heat and radiation released by any nuclear bomb that dropped. But, of course, it was hard to
be too happy about the whole situation – hearing the world ending right above your head will
certainly make any sense of relief very fleeting. Once the existential dread of knowing everything
he knew and loved was being reduced to ash and wondering if he was the last man on Earth
had eventually subsided, Mason was left with an equally horrifying question: what now?
Fortunately, Mason’s bunker wasn’t just an empty, unfurnished underground room. It had been
outfitted for at least a year’s worth of minimal autonomous operation, removing any
need for him to venture out onto the scorched, irradiated surface of the world. The initial
wave from each nuclear explosion was bad enough, but the second wave from the fallout was arguably
worse. Radioactive particles and debris kicked up into the air by the sheer force of each blast,
only to gradually come raining – or falling – back down to Earth, hence the name. Exposure to
nuclear fallout, carried by winds, could cause radiation sickness, cancer and eventually
death, by contaminating the breathable air, along with irradiating any food or water left behind.
Being trapped underground made it hard for Mason not to feel isolated; even though he owned one
of the smaller Black Hills bunkers, it had been designed and furnished to house more than just
one person. He found himself using the extra four twin bedrooms almost as vacation bedrooms
when he got sick of sleeping in his double room, just to alleviate the boredom. The first year
in the bunker seemed to pass at a slow crawl, but it wasn’t long afterwards that things
started breaking down. His water filtration system had malfunctioned, and none of the tools
or spare parts he had stored in the bunker were suitable. He had tried every other conceivable
option – anything to avoid stepping outside, even as a last resort. But running out of viable
solutions and becoming more and more dehydrated, it was beginning to look like he’d have to
leave the safety of his bunker after all. Outside, waiting for him, were the horrors
of a nuclear winter. Thanks to the widespread scale of the nuclear war on the surface, and
the sheer number of atom bombs detonated, this had triggered a climatic event once
only thought to be purely theoretical. It goes without saying that the damage caused by
a nuclear bomb when it directly hits a target and detonates is nothing short of devastating.
The immediate heat from the blast is enough to vaporize human beings until little more than
a scorched silhouette remains on the ground or nearby walls. The shockwave from the blast
can also damage, if not entirely demolish, most standing structures too, meaning not even
buildings stand a chance of staying standing if they’re too close. But what also occurs when a
nuclear device detonates, is that massive amounts of dust and debris are thrown up into the air.
A nuclear winter occurs when the explosions of several nuclear weapons cause these large
quantities of this dust and debris – including the aforementioned nuclear fallout – to float
up into the atmosphere. This mass of debris, as well as the residual smoke from the blasts, would
then theoretically form a barrier thick enough to block out the Sun. This would prevent a great deal
of the Sun’s light, and more importantly, heat, from reaching the surface. With the Sun’s rays
blocked by a thick fog of fallout and atmospheric debris, the temperatures across the planet
would then begin to drop rapidly, to around fifty to just under seventy degrees Fahrenheit.
This is exactly what had happened while Mason had been hiding in the safety of his bunker. Previous
scientific theories had hypothesized that the emissions generated by nuclear fireballs would
completely destroy the ozone layer surrounding Earth. However, by the 1980s, those theories had
been largely discredited, and the more plausible effects of nuclear war on the climate started
to be considered. But Mason had assumed that above ground things would be scorching hot
thanks to the heat from all the explosions, but in reality, the opposite was true. Still, he
knew it was suicide to step outside unprotected, even if he was in for a surprise as to just how
cold it was beyond the safety of his bunker. Preparation for venturing outside after a nuclear
war wasn’t something that Mason could ever be too cautious about. Being underprepared would mean
exposure to nuclear fallout, so he started by taking some potassium iodine tablets. These
would flood his body with safe iodine, blocking any radioactive iodine – present in nuclear
fallout – from being absorbed into his body and poisoning him. With the dose he’d taken, it
would keep Mason safe for about twenty four hours. He had a reliable gas mask on hand as well,
military-grade CM-7M full face one that he quickly put on, securing it tightly. Of course,
the gas mask itself was useless without a filter, which he screwed onto the mask to prevent him
breathing in any radioactive iodine. Then, he slipped into a protective hazmat suit and
gloves, using chemical resistant tape to seal any gaps between the gloves and his sleeves, and
the suit’s legs and his boots, making sure he was as protected as it was possible for him to be.
Gathering up a survival kit he’d been gathering in a bug out bag, consisting of useful items
like rope, a flashlight, personal radio, a basic first aid kit and a Geiger counter,
Mason was ready at last to take his first, nervous steps beyond his bunker and out
into the world ravaged by nuclear winter. Stepping outside, the low temperature was the
first shock to Mason’s system. It was certainly a far cry from the insulated warmth inside
his bunker. The hazmat suit over his clothes protected him somewhat, and luckily he’d sealed
it well enough to keep much of his own body heat trapped. But that wouldn’t entirely negate
the effects of the nuclear winter’s cold. In the area of South Dakota near the Black
Hills, temperatures already fluctuated considerably depending on the time of
year; on average, it could reach highs of seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit in the
summer, and drop all the way to the lower thirties at the start or tail end of a year.
With just that disparity in the space of a few months, the time of year and regular
temperature would be a crucial factor in how severe the effects of a nuclear winter would
be. And those are the highs too. In colder areas, if the temperature is already lower,
then that number is only due to go down thanks to the lack of heat from the Sun.
Mason had found himself in what theorists had classed as a nominal nuclear winter. In the case
of a minimal one, a smaller nuclear attack would have no effect on the environment. While a
marginal scenario would still see lowered temperatures, even a nominal nuclear winter was
still thought to be on the lower end of the scale in terms of the damage and impact a full-scale
nuclear war could have on the climate, and would likely occur after the detonation of between six
thousand and twelve thousand nuclear weapons. The fluctuating streak of bad to good luck that
Mason was experiencing seemed to be continuing, since he’d exited his bunker with too few
layers on to keep himself warm enough, but he had also left on a day in April. The
average lowest temperature in the area would have normally been around forty eight degrees,
but now, with huge clouds of ash and radioactive debris acting as an umbrella blocking out
the sunlight, it was significantly colder. In fact, in the year since the bombs had first
fallen, nuclear winter had made temperatures consistently lower all across South Dakota,
as well as the world. If he’d been outside on a May day before the bombs had dropped, the
lowest average temperature would be around twenty one degrees. With a nuclear winter
in effect, it was now barely reaching three Fahrenheit – something that would cause Mason far
more problems than just feeling a little cold… Thanks to the thick blanket of radioactive dust
in the atmosphere, the sky had gone dark. Little to no sunlight reaching the surface of
the Earth meant visibility was poor, and while Mason didn’t quite need to rely
on his flashlight in order to get around, it was far darker than an overcast day. Even at
noon, when the Sun had reached its highest point in the sky, the sunlight was only about a third
of what it would’ve been on a normal day for the time of year. And this lower level of light
wasn’t seasonal – it persisted all year long. As much as sunlight would’ve made
it easier to see, Mason didn’t find himself wishing it would return. Thanks to
the number of nuclear weapons exploding, the air around them would have been subjected to
intense heat, followed by rapid cooling. These were the perfect conditions for nitrogen oxides to
form. Such high levels of nitrogen oxides, coupled with the heat being absorbed by the dark layer
of soot in the atmosphere would have destroyed around seventy percent of the ozone layer.
So, when the smoke of the nuclear winter eventually cleared, there would be an increased
amount of ultraviolet radiation reaching the surface, emitted by the Sun. This could
cause damage to people and animals alike, affecting their eyes and also increase their
likelihood of developing skin cancer, in addition to outright killing a lot of animal and plant
life – if there was even any left by that point. Braving the icy temperatures, only protected
by the hazmat suit and the layers of clothes he had on underneath, Mason headed off in
search of the other bunkers. There were five hundred and fifty-seven available when he’d
bought his, so Mason figured he at least wouldn’t have to venture much further than the former
Black Hills army base. His main objective was to find enough tools or replacement parts to repair
his water filtration system, but he had decided it was worth attempting to restock on supplies.
He knew to avoid anything that wasn’t packaged. Any food or water that had been exposed
to the outside elements was likely riddled with radioactive fallout, and would, at
best, require a lot of washing before even coming close to preparing and eating. So,
he thought it best to stick to any canned or dried food he happened across, just
as long as it was in sealed packaging. When it came to water, he obviously couldn’t trust
any outdoor sources, now they’d all be irradiated. But he hadn’t exactly been downing tall glasses
of parasite and bacteria riddled river water even before the war, so avoiding rivers and lakes
came instinctively. The same could be said for any crops that had been growing nearby at the time
of the bombs dropping. The dimming of the sun also meant that plants couldn’t photosynthesize
properly. That was evident to Mason just by looking at what few trees had been near the Black
Hills bunkers. They were all dead, those that were still standing were scorched by the blaze.
Walking around in the wake of the war was unnerving. Every tick of the Geiger counter
put Mason on edge, causing him to take sharp, nervous breaths. Then, hearing his own breathing
contained by his mask made him think about everything he could potentially be breathing
in if his filter stopped working. It wasn’t just radioactive fallout contaminating
the air, but pollutants of all sorts. While the temperature below the smoke and dust
was extremely cold, above it was much hotter, thanks to the sunlight being absorbed by the
fallout in the atmosphere. This temperature inversion helped keep any of the byproducts of
fires closer to the level people breathe at. And a lot of fires had occurred when the bombs
had incinerated large swathes of the planet, meaning that dioxins, sulfurous gases and other
pollutants were not only prevented from fully rising upwards into the atmosphere, but were
dense and toxic to anyone unfortunate enough to breathe them in. Mason prayed he wouldn’t find
out just how toxic the air was, as long as he kept his mask on and didn’t remove his filter.
Arriving at one of the other bunkers, Mason was met with a heavy, sealed door. Trying in vain
to get it to budge, he decided it was probably pointless knocking. After all, his underground
neighbor probably wasn’t expecting any social calls now that civilization had collapsed.
Searching further, Mason found another of the bunkers a short walk away. Judging by the open
door, this one was unoccupied. He tried not to think about whether or not it had been that
way because it was still waiting to be sold when the bombs dropped… or if it had been opened
after, by someone forcing their way in. Stepping into the compromised bunker, Mason looked around,
thoroughly checking some of the nearest bedrooms for any signs of life. Nobody in. Strangely, any
sense of comfort that provided him was fleeting, disappearing the moment he saw that the
interior of the bunker had been ransacked. Searching for supplies and other useful
resources was hardly going to be an easy task, even if someone hadn’t already beaten him to it.
Since the door to this bunker had been wide open, there was a high chance much of the radiation from
outside had come flooding inside the moment the bunker had been exposed to the toxic elements.
Even here, Mason had to keep his suit on, and while he was grateful for the slight increase
in temperature that came from being inside, his warmer body temperature caused the lenses of
his gas mask to get foggy. That was the least of his problems though; it didn’t seem like
there was anything that useful down here. Navigating was easy enough, at least. The layout
of this bunker was almost identical to his, so finding his way around came naturally;
after all, apart from the mess, it was just like the space he’d spent the past year of his
life trapped in. As Mason searched through the raided supply closets, sifting through the mess
that had been left behind, his hope for finding anything that could help him dwindled. Every
time he reached for what looked, at a distance, to be an unopened can of food, he would lift
it to feel its empty weight. As he threw each one back to the floor, his heart sank further.
Mason was hardly the last man alive, after all. Those who hadn’t been killed or blinded by the
blasts would have suffered severe burns to their skin if they’d been anywhere near the blast
radius, and had somehow managed to avoid the devastation of the initial shockwave. There were
many pockets of survivors located all over the globe. In some countries with good civil defense
systems in place like Switzerland or Finland, there was already an extensive network of blast
shelters and fallout shelters. The latter even had enough shelters to house its entire urban
population. Both Australia and New Zealand had a fairly low population density, with these
two countries also having massive food reserves stored away out of reach of fallout from the
Northern Hemisphere. And over in Iceland, they hardly had to worry about food – thanks to their
autonomous food production systems, they could continue to meet the demand of their survivors.
Elsewhere though, the struggle for acquiring resources had been expectedly competitive among
the few who had managed to survive by regularly venturing on the surface, and braving the nuclear
winter’s Arctic temperatures – although not many of them survived for long. With production of food
and other essentials all but shut down completely, that meant there were limited resources available
to those who needed them, and mass starvation had already claimed many lives. It didn’t just go
for food either, electricity was scarce, if not completely unavailable. Those like Mason who had
generators providing their bunkers were lucky, and needed fuel to keep those generators working.
His search for food proving quite literally fruitless, Mason started looking for other
things he could use. Spare water filters, tools, literally anything that could improve the
state of his bunker. There was nothing. Whoever had beaten him to the punch had cleared the place
out top to bottom and destroyed anything of use. He started to wonder if this bunker had been
empty and just got obliterated in a nuclear blast, and sometime after, someone had come and
cleared out anything left that was still useful. Now, walking back out into the cold of
the nuclear winter outside, Mason was faced with a choice. He still needed to fix his
filtration system, otherwise, he’d die a slow, painful death via dehydration. The problem
was, the next bunker was a longer walk away, and he was already freezing. His body temperature
was plummeting. So, he could either race back to his own bunker, decontaminate himself and his
hazmat suit, then try again another day. Or, he could try to reach the next nearest bunker,
which could easily be in the same state as the one he’d just left. But it might have what he needed…
Mason made the mistake of continuing his search. Despite the protection against fallout offered by
his suit and the iodine pills he’d taken earlier, the one thing neither of them could prevent was
long exposure to the cold temperatures caused by nuclear winter. His core body temperature, which
usually hovered around ninety-eight degrees, would begin falling thanks to the freezing temperatures
outside his suit. Once the body dips to ninety five Fahrenheit, hypothermia occurs, aided by
the sweat that had accumulated thanks to the body heat trapped inside his hazmat suit. As his
body temperature dropped, his vital organs began to fail, until Mason couldn’t breathe properly.
Collapsing as he desperately tried to turn back towards his bunker, he eventually died. It
wasn’t the radiation or even the nuclear bombs themselves that got him in the end.
It was merely the cold of nuclear winter. Now check out “Why Nuclear Armageddon
is Unstoppable.” Or watch this instead!
