Any Other Day - Original Draft

(c) John C. Prejean Sr. / March 21, 2025

I’ve always hated this stretch of highway. There is never any cell phone service between Las Cruces and Alamogordo. Maybe I’ll listen to the local radio stations…if there are any. As I am going through the FM stations, an Emergency Broadcast System message is starting on one of the stations that I just passed. I go back to it in a hurry because the last part that I heard was ‘This is not a test.’ As I press the button to go back to the previous station, I hear this, “A nuclear ICBM has been launched from North Korea and is headed toward the United States mainland. North Korea has confirmed the launch and has announced a declaration of war against the U.S. At this time, we do not know where the missile will strike and are asking everyone to prepare by finding shelter.” A feeling of uneasiness came upon me. I had to pull over to the shoulder of the highway and process what I just heard. My stomach started to hurt, my heart was racing, and I immediately tried calling my wife. As I go to dial, I see S.O.S. where the service bar is located. I slam my fist on the dashboard, “Damn Verizon!”

Once I managed to compose myself, I turned the car around and started heading back home. My heart was still racing, and my mind kept going back to this morning when I kissed my wife goodbye and told her that I’d see her later. Now, I’m not even sure if I’ll make it home. As I’m driving, my mind is racing in a million directions, and I glance down at the speedometer and notice that I’m doing 110 mph, but at this point, does it really matter? I saw other vehicles pulled off along the side of the road and others doing the same thing that I did, turning their vehicles around and heading back towards Las Cruces. Even at 110 mph, I’m getting passed by other vehicles as if I were standing still.

I looked over at my phone and noticed that there’s still no cell phone service. I then glance at the gas gauge and notice that I still have 3/4 of a tank and 423 miles until empty. That is more than enough gas to get me home, so that relieved the thought of having to stop to put gas during a crisis like this. I also knew that at this rate of speed, I would be within cell phone service in around 20 minutes. When you hear news like that, your mind takes off in a million directions. Where is the bomb going to hit? How close am I going to be to it? Is there a possibility that it can hit here? The fact that I’m passing through White Sands missile range makes the probability that much higher, but I try to remain as calm as possible, and I keep looking at my phone to see if there’s any signal yet. I also keep looking at the time and approximate that I’m at least 15 minutes away before I can call home. I’m listening to the radio as I continue to drive to see if there are any updates. The last thing I heard was that the missile was headed towards the west coast, coming in from west to east. My mind automatically thinks that there are multiple targets in California, so the probability is that the missile is going to hit one of the major cities in California, not that it puts my mind at ease, but it kind of does.

As I am getting closer to the Organ Mountains, my cell phone starts to ring. I push the receive button in my car and hear the voice of my wife on the other side. “Jack! Are you OK? Where are you? Did you hear what is going on? I’m scared.” She is crying as she’s asking all these questions. I tell her that I have heard the news and I have already turned around and am headed back towards home, but I’m still approximately two hours and ten minutes away. Suddenly, she’s not on the phone anymore, and I look at the phone and notice that there is no service again. “Hello? Babe? Hello!?” Angerly, I toss the phone on the passenger seat as tears roll down my cheek and I begin to panic.

I tell myself, “You gotta stop this crying. You gotta get control over yourself. Get control and get your ass home because your family needs you! As scared as you are, they are probably a thousand times more scared. Focus and keep driving!” Every so often, I have to talk to and convince myself that everything is going to be OK to push me through a hard time. It’s something that I had to learn as an adult since I never learned coping skills as a child or teenager. I was abused as a child, physically, psychologically, and in a couple of instances sexually, and nobody was there to shield me or protect me from all this happening. It can really screw a person up and make them bitter, resentful, and hard to the world. When you’ve grown up with self-esteem and self-worth issues, it can be a challenge. It has taken years for me to get to the point that I am at now, and I have those conversations, reminding myself, “Yeah, this sucks, but you’re still going to push through it.”

I’m crossing the mountaintop and going down into Las Cruces. I looked at my phone again and noticed that there’s still no service. Once again, my anger starts kicking in, my mind continues to wander, and I have to tell myself to calm down. There’s nothing I can do about it, but I can’t help but wonder why there is no service. There is always service by this point, any other time that I’ve driven this stretch of road. Did North Korea launch another missile, disabling any means of communication? It doesn’t matter. I tell myself to keep driving down the highway and remain focused on the goal of getting home. Momentarily I glance around to see what’s going on and observe how everybody else is reacting to what is happening. For those that are on the highway such as myself, they are thinking the same thing that I am, and are doing the same thing, trying to make it back home to their families. At this point, nobody is abiding by the speed limit. That got tossed out the window as soon as the Emergency Broadcast System announcement came on. My heart and mind are still racing, but I remain focused on my goal, “Get home!”

As I make it into Las Cruces, a newsflash comes out on the radio. “This is the Emergency Broadcast System with a special announcement. The missile that was launched by North Korea has detonated in the greater Phoenix, Arizona area. We are not aware of how many casualties and injuries there are, but we will provide you with updates as they are available. If you are traveling to or near the surrounding Phoenix area, it is advised that you seek alternative routes and drive away from Phoenix and the surrounding areas.” As I hear this message there’s a lump in my throat and a nauseous feeling in my stomach, but there’s also a part of me, breathing a sigh of relief that it was nowhere close to me or my family. This does not deter me from my objective, nor does it make me, or anybody else for that matter, slow down and start abiding by the speed limits. People are running red lights, stop signs, and law enforcement is doing their best to maintain control of the traffic situation. As I’m reaching the outskirts of Las Cruces, heading towards Deming New Mexico I can’t help but think of all the people in Phoenix and what they thought as they looked in the sky and saw that missile coming down, knowing that in seconds, they would be dead.

I am nearing the border patrol checkpoint ten miles outside of Las Cruces when another newsflash comes out. “This is the Emergency Broadcast System with another alert. North Korea has launched five additional missiles. Iran and Russia have launched six missiles each and have also declared war against the United States and any of its allies.” Upon hearing this news, I started sweating, shaking with fear, and became nauseous again. Immediately, I start to lose focus on what I’m doing. I look down and notice that I’ve slowed down to 50 mph, and I just can’t comprehend what the hell is happening. As I got approximately a mile away from the border patrol checkpoint, I noticed that vehicles were being turned around and forced to head back towards Las Cruces. I asked myself if they knew something that I didn’t know? I get up to the station, and the Border Patrol agent manning the station, along with others, tells me, “There’s no through traffic allowed. You’re going to have to drive up here a little, turn around, and go back towards Las Cruces.” Furiously, I protest. “I have to get home to my family in Silver City!” The Border Patrol agent repeats what he said and tells me that it is an order that I must comply with.

At this point, I figure that I have nothing to lose. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, I don’t know if I’m gonna be alive to make it home, I don’t know if my family will be alive if I make it home. I look at the agent and floor the gas pedal. I go straight through the barricade, doing my best to avoid hitting any agents. I look in my rearview mirror expecting to see multiple patrol vehicles coming after me, guns a blazing. But what I see is every other vehicle that was behind me doing the exact same thing that I did. Who do these people think they are to tell us that we can’t go home? That we can’t be with our families? I looked down at my speedometer and noticed that I am doing 120 mph, but I still have half a tank of gas, which was plenty enough fuel to make it home. But my heart is racing and pounding, and as stupid as it may sound, it’s more so because of what I just did and not because of what’s happening. I can’t believe that I’m more paranoid about the fact that I just ran through a checkpoint instead of being worried about multiple incoming nuclear missiles.

I get to the halfway point between Deming and Silver City and notice that I’m doing 110 mph at this point when I hit the first patch of highway that tells me, “Hey, you better slow down or else you know what’s gonna happen.” No sooner than I started slowing down, than I saw the car in front of me experience exactly what I thought would happen. Blowout! The car starts fishtailing all over the highway, crossing both lanes until it finally manages to pull over to the side of the road. Any other day, I would’ve stopped and asked how the person was doing or checked on them, but this wasn’t any other day. I kept driving as fast as I could, but I was forced to maintain the speed limit of 80 miles an hour just to be safe and have enough time to avoid those massive divots and cracks in the highway, which should’ve been fixed a long time ago, but it’s a moot point right now.

“This is a message from the Emergency Broadcasting System. Five nuclear missiles have impacted cities throughout California. They are San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Bakersfield, and Riverside. We also have information that the other twelve missiles that were launched are headed towards the East Coast, traveling east to west. As soon as we have more information to report, we will let everyone know. We ask that you find a place to take shelter as we do not know where these missiles will impact.” I continue driving, and a thought comes to mind. Twelve missiles inbound, and I’m twelve miles from home, hmm. I look to my right and see a billboard sign that simply says Revelations 13:18. That’s strange. I’ve never seen a billboard out here before. Suddenly, my phone dings. It’s a text message from my wife. “Jack, we are at the underground shelter at Sixth Street School. Please hurry. I love you.” As I tried to reply to the message, I noticed that there’s still no cell service. How in the hell did that message come through? Eight miles from home now, but I’m not going home. I’m driving to the school to be with my family.

I get to the first intersection, and there is no traffic on the roads. It is eerily calm and peaceful, yet sullen and somber. On the side of the road is a police vehicle with its lights on, but nobody is inside of it. The signal lights are flashing red. There are also quite a few abandoned vehicles on the road. It’s as if everyone suddenly disappeared. I have never seen Silver City so silent, so dead. I got about two miles away from the school and noticed that all roads had been blocked off and barricaded with other vehicles. I park the car, grab my work bag, why I don’t know, possibly habit, and I start walking.

I’m walking towards the downtown area when I notice dark smoke rising into the air. As I get closer, I can smell the smoke, and I see flames. Most of the downtown area is on fire, and there is nobody around. Was there rioting? How did these fires start? “Focus, Jack, focus!” I continue walking towards the school, through the burnt rubble and the remains of what used to be the Marketplace. I hear a thundering sound and try to figure out where and what the noise is coming from. I hear a big ‘swoosh’ sound overhead and look up to see a fiery tail following what appeared to be a missile in the sky. My adrenaline kicks in. I start running towards the school, but I am not in shape to run, adrenaline or not, I have to stop to catch my breath. I’m having a hard time catching my breath with all the smoke in the air, so I start walking slowly towards my destination.

I see the school in the distance. I’m almost there! I am three blocks away when I feel the ground shake beneath me. I’ve been in earthquakes before when I lived in California, so I knew that this was not an earthquake that I felt. I look behind me, and far off in the distance, I see what appears to be a giant mushroom cloud made of fire. I start running again, huffing and puffing, struggling to take each breath of air in. The air is thick with smoke, and each inhalation burns my chest and forces me to start coughing. I’m about to collapse when I reach the door to the school. “Damn it! It’s locked!” I go to the next door, same thing. I start pounding on the door, screaming, hoping that someone will hear me and let me inside, when suddenly an ear-piercing alarm goes off, causing me to fall to the ground, covering my ears and closing my eyes shut. “EHHH! EHHH! EHHH!” I slowly open my eyes, wipe the sweat from my brow, and see the alarm clock, 6 o’clock, time to wake up. “It was only a dream.” I sigh and get out of bed.