Day of the Bomb by Steve Stroble

left stranded in them
after the last high tide. “Look over there at that, Kong! That’s no
thunderhead blowing our way. It’s rising way too fast. Let’s see
just where that is on the map.” He ran to the lean-to and retrieved
the chart he had salvaged from the PT boat the previous summer. On
it a seaman had penciled in the PT boat’s location when it was
attacked and disabled. Jason compared that mark with the largest
group of islands that lay in the direction of the strange expanding
cloud. “Looks like it’s coming from near where the Bikini Atoll is
at, Kong.” Jason dropped the chart onto the beach.
    Kong picked it up and carried it back to the lean-to.
Lately, his human was careless, as if he expected to be leaving
Kong Island any day now. It all had something to do with those
strange marks that he daily carved into the tree. After safely
storing the chart, Kong returned to his human’s side. Jason still
studied the cloud that had reached its apex.
    “I don’t like this one bit, Kong. That cloud looks
funny.” He sat down next to the monkey. “I don’t ever remember any
smoke that high up after we pounded all those islands with bombers
and shells from the cruisers and battleships. You don’t think…I
sure hope not.”
    Scenarios that the Professor had offered began to
play out in his weary mind: “The one wild card in ending the war is
Russia,” he had said. “They still haven’t even declared war on
Japan. I guess they decided to let us and the Brits take care of
it. Besides, they’re too busy taking over all those European
countries. It’s a long shot but what if Stalin decides to switch
sides on us? What if he joins forces with the Japs? If he does
we’ll be back down here fighting in the islands again instead of
invading Japan.”
    Jason shook his head and threw a piece of coral into
the waves lapping at his and Kong’s feet. “How many days do we have
left to go before we get out of here?” They walked back to the tree
that served as a calendar and he counted off his carvings. Then he
returned to the beach and studied the cloud as it lost its mushroom
cap and drifted toward Monkey Island. They sat back down on the
sand.
    “What should I do, Kong? You know I don’t make any
decisions without you agreeing. There’s still about a month left
before when I planned on setting the bonfire. But that was the plan
for waiting out the invasion of Japan til it was all over but the
crying. Judging by the size of that cloud over there either the
Japs or the Russians and the Japs are busy duking it out with our
boys. I sure hope the Professor was all wet about the Russians
switching sides. What do you think, Kong?”
    Kong shrugged his shoulders, one of the five gestures
his human had taught him. The worry in Jason’s voice troubled him.
They sat for an hour while Jason tried to use his father’s favorite
piece of advice, the Four Ts, think this thing through. But the
more Jason thought the more confused he became. Finally, he walked
over to the huge mound of dead palm fronds that he had started to
build a week ago. Satisfied that its five-foot height was adequate,
he placed the wadded up chart under a corner of the fronds. Two
pieces of metal salvaged from the PT boat during his first week on
Monkey Island served as a makeshift flint. The first three-dozen
sparks failed to ignite the paper but lucky number thirty-seven
made a faint red glow on it. Jason blew softly until smoke rose
through the carefully stacked material. Then he blew with all his
might. The flames consumed the paper and sought out more fuel,
which exploded into new patches of fire.
    The fire panicked the troop of
monkeys. They screeched to Kong that the
human was going to cook him.
    Kong shrugged at his estranged
relatives and friends, as if to say, “ Stop your jabbering. You’re the ones
who have gone human, not me. You worry even more than my human
does. Go away and leave us alone. ”
    Jason watched the clouds of smoke rise