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!