Axis and Compass North

Axis and Compass North

​by Madi A. 03/2026

​The Day Everything Went Black

​The radio was playing when the interruption hit; the news warned us this was happening. Our area was a target because of the nuclear plant just south of the city.

​She didn’t think she could protect herself and her children fast enough, no one truly thought it would ever happen. The city-wide alarms and emergency alert systems were activated, wailing a warning of the situation.

​She pulled out the Jeep and tied four containers of fuel to the roof racks. She had an emergency tire inflator and a few bottles of Fix-a-Flat in case they hit a snag. They had go-bags ready in the closet. She took her grandfather’s WWI compass from her drawer and placed it in the armrest for easy access. She even had a set of walkie-talkies and a CB radio to plug into the Jeep. She packed her stashed emergency cash, snacks, and water bottles, check, check, check. On her way out, she grabbed three throw blankets, pillows, and the children’s favorite stuffed animals.

​She had three schools to hit to collect her children. Her first son was at the south end of the city. Her second son was just up the road at the local community school, and her daughter was at a daycare north of the city. She had always known this logistics puzzle would one day be an issue.

​Safety zones were pre-designated, safe, off-site locations that the schools set up in advance for emergencies. But those were her babies. This mama bear was not waiting one more instant to get her cubs.

​The highways were gridlocked, but she was on high alert; she knew the backroads and off-road trails all the way to the North Country.

​First, she drove to the south end of the city. Her son’s class did not have a designated safety zone for transfer because his classmates had special needs and used wheelchairs; it was safer for parents to pick them up directly from the school. She gathered him, then picked up her other son on the way to the north end of the city for her daughter. She was notified that the daycare had already initiated a safety zone transfer. She had to pause, forcing herself to stay calm until she remembered the pickup location.

​With all her babies by her side, she wondered: Are they truly safe? She promised to provide them with everything she knew, everything she had been taught, and to use her instincts to protect them.

​It was a 350-kilometer drive. On a good day using the highways, it could take up to five hours to get to their home in the North Country. The clock was ticking, tic, toc. At any time, the nuclear plant could be hit, and everything in its path would be leveled.

​The children thought they were going exploring. They didn’t realize they were part of an emergency evacuation; they thought it was going to be fun.

​She drove the backroads until they, too, became packed with vehicles. She pulled over at a gas station for a bathroom break. Before heading back out, she pulled the paper map of the North Country from the glove box. She took a mental snapshot of the route, scribbled a few notes on a scrap of paper, and off they went. The best path she could find was to follow the electrical pole line. A few creeks, a mountain here and there, and the rest was clear driving.

​They finally made it home, or so she thought. She hadn't realized during her frantic drive through hills and fields that the mines in the North Country had been added to the target list.

​During her travels, she managed to speak to her father from a payphone they found along the way. She told him she was coming home with the three children. But the North Country was no longer the final stop; they were now heading to the cottage, an hour away from the chaos.

​She asked her dad to load as many supplies as possible, essential ingredients and gasoline and head to the cottage. It was the safest place to be: Lot #2, on Musky Bay Island, West Arm Nipissing.

​The children felt safe there; the cottage had been a second home since they were babies. Finally, the family was together. The children played in the natural playground outside while she and her mother inventoried the supplies. Her father was in the garden, tending to quiet tasks. The noise of the world was gone. The pace had slowed, the air was pure, and they had the entire lake and a fresh water source running directly to the tap.

​She thought to herself, this ended up being a perfect day. People try to mentally prepare for fight or flight, but it is rare in this part of the North to actually have to act on it.

​Then, her alarm clock rang tic, toc. It was time to get up and get the children ready for school. She realized that reading a pamphlet the school had sent home about emergency procedures during the Gulf War had triggered a vivid nightmare.

​As she sat up and observed her life, reality set in: the Jeep was actually a rust-bucket Nissan Stanza. Her emergency cash was just a few coins in the unused ashtray. The containers of fuel were actually the $10 increments she fed the car as needed. Her supplies were always limited; she was on a fixed income with no extras.

​Yet, survival was still the key, and her compass still pointed north.

Her grandfather's Wold War I compass