The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) Read Online Free

far-seeing architects.
    A strong aroma of coffee drifted into his nostrils, luring him into the kitchen. “ Ah, good morning, sweetheart. ” He placed a kiss on his wife ’ s neck, lifting her long blond hair away.
    The tall, lovely woman returned his show of affection by brushing his chin with her lips, while never taking her eyes off the omelet. She flashed him a tender look of concern. “ You ’ re tired, dear. But, then, you didn ’ t rest well. ”
    “ No. I had trouble unwinding after the staff meeting last night, ” he said as he ambled toward the table.
    “ I ’ d wanted to wait up for you, but as it got closer to midnight, I finally had to go to bed. Suddenly I need so much sleep. ”
    “ You shouldn ’ t have waited at all. I told you I ’ d be late. ” He picked up his glass of juice and quickly drained it. Then he noticed the glass by her plate, and its burgundy colored liquid. With his back to her, and wondering about the unusual breakfast drink, he asked, “ Did you go in for your examination yesterday? ”
    “ Yes. I had a one o ’ clock appointment, remember? ”
    He vaguely recalled she had told him that, but the previous day was such a jumble of events that his wife ’ s visit to the physician had been pushed far aside in his mind. “ Well? ” he asked, as he turned to her. “ What did he say? ”
    She lifted the omelet onto a dish and moved toward the table. “ He said I shouldn ’ t have any trouble carrying this one if I ’ m careful. ”
    “ Careful? ” he asked quizzically. “ What does that mean? ”
    “ Follow his advice, I think, ” she answered as she took a seat. He was still standing, absorbed in what she would say. “ Did he have any advice about why you had the miscarriage? ”
    She shrugged, “ He couldn ’ t know, Ben. He wasn ’ t the attending physician. Besides, he says there are dozens of reasons why pregnancies are naturally aborted. ”
    Ben lifted the glass of deep red fluid to his nostrils. The scent of wine wafted through the air. Puzzled, he asked, “ Is this what you ’ re drinking for breakfast? ”
    She looked at him out of huge brown eyes, and smiled warmly, “ Is there something wrong with it? ”
    Ben scrutinized the high cheek bones and the rich full lips of his wife. Her head was regally tilted to the side, letting the shining blond hair fall like a curtain behind her as she awaited his answer. “ It doesn ’ t seem to me that drinking this stuff in the morning is going to help you with the baby one bit, Sara. ”
    That she had poured it at all was a shock to him. Sara was familiar with the best wines, the gourmet drinks, but she had never cultivated a taste for them. Ben recalled his first visit to the home of her parents. Her father possessed a lavishly-equipped wine cellar, the pride of the older man. Yet, Sara was totally unconcerned with its stock. “ Is this a fetish or something—a craving that you suddenly have? ” he asked as he set the glass down.
    She took the glass and lifted it toward her mouth, paused, then returned it to the table. “ It ’ s a foul-smelling substance, ” she said. “ No, Ben, as strange as it may sound, the doctor prescribed an alcoholic drink three times a day, so I thought wine would be the easiest to take this early in the morning. ”
    “ He prescribed it for a woman during pregnancy? He must be insane, Sara. You ’ ll have to find another obstetrician, ” Ben said. “ You ’ ll never have a child if you listen to some nut like that. ”
    Sara reached out for his arm and pulled him toward his chair. “ But you don ’ t understand, Ben. The doctor says that small amounts of alcohol will slow contractions of the uterus. He thinks premature contractions could be the reason why I lost the first one. ”
    “ You ’ re only three months along—that seems pretty early to worry about contractions, ” he said as he watched her pour the coffee. She did it gracefully, as she did