Safety Bucket ~ fiction by Aaron Sandberg

Safety Bucket

Days after the latest headline, the school supplied each room with a safety bucket. Ms. Stevens removed each item one-by-one in front of the reverent class. There was a length of paracord to tie off the door and make a second lock if the first didn’t hold or a window was smashed to reach for a handle. A flashlight was added, of course, in the event of a power outage—or maybe to blind the eyes if the barricade was breached. Some items had multiple uses, double meanings. She removed granola bars and glucose tabs. These were here for diabetics, she explained. Inside the bucket were tourniquets, pressure applicators, non-adherent pads, and secondary dressing. These, of course, needed no explanation. Tucked inside was a blanket for shock. The garbage bags and rubber gloves were for waste or blood. There were water bottles and toilet paper. Hostage standoffs could stretch untold hours. The bucket itself could be used, of course. The final item was a shower curtain. Ms. Stevens unfolded it and wrinkled her brow. One student in back asked what it was for. She said she assumed it was to offer some semblance of privacy, to maintain self-respect—a sense of dignity in the event that nature called. It was to save them from shame. To guard them. To shield them. To protect them. The students whispered, giggled. Yes, of course: the curtain was there to protect them.

Aaron Sandberg has appeared or is forthcoming in Rust & Moth, The Offing, Asimov’s, Phoebe, Lost Balloon, Flash Frog, Phantom Kangaroo, and elsewhere. He is a multiple Best Microfiction winner (2024) and a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Dwarf Stars nominee. Find him—and his writing—on Instagram @aarondsandberg.