The rumor is there’s a bomb shelter beneath our little town. Room for one hundred people. A two thousand pound door will slam shut eternally beneath an orange grove. No one over sixty-five need buy a lottery ticket for the 1960s kitchen stocked with antibiotics, the gun room, or the mildewed tunnel of seeds left to propagate along an exit yet unearthed back into the civilized world. Let’s call it the tribulation, nuclear, rapture, asteroid, a Biblical infestation of palmetto bugs (winged cockroaches), Armageddon and all I’ve ever seen myself is a speakeasy hidden beneath a fringed rug in front of the reservation desk at The Lakeside Inn downtown where it is said that Al Capone, with his knifed jaw, raised lead crystal glasses of moonshine: Salute, Cin Cin, to the frenzied blasts of light, all those barking faces, loose and jawing down. Alas, Babylon was a novel written in 1959 by Pat Frank about a nuclear holocaust as experienced in the setting of a surviving small town in Florida, called Fort Repose (Mount Dora) where a bomb shelter was built in response to the novel.