It's a Tuesday night. Supper's done. The TV's on. Then every phone in the house goes off at once.

It's an emergency alert. A nuclear attack warning for your area.

Most folks freeze. Then they do something. And the first thing most people do is the wrong thing.

So let's walk through it now, nice and slow, while there's no alarm going off.

Get inside. Not in a minute. Now.

If you're already home, good. If you're in the car, pull over and get into the nearest solid building. A car will not protect you from radiation. A brick or concrete building will do a whole lot better.

Once you're inside, go down or go to the middle. A basement is best. No basement? Pick a room in the center of the house, away from windows and outside walls. In a tall building, stay on the middle floors, away from the roof.

Close the windows and doors.

If you're caught outside and see a flash, don't look at it. Get down, face down, and cover your head. When it passes, get inside.

This is when people make their mistakes, so this is when you stay put.

The danger now is fallout. That's radioactive dust that comes down after the blast. It settles on roofs, yards and cars. The walls, floors and dirt between you and that dust are what protect you.

If you were outside, take off your outer layer of clothes, put them in a bag, and set the bag away from people. The CDC says that one step can get rid of most of the dust on you. Then wash. Shower with soap and shampoo if you can. Skip the conditioner, because it holds the dust in your hair. No shower? Wipe your skin and hair with a wet cloth.

Then turn on a radio, the TV or your phone. Officials will tell you what's happening and what to do next.

Stay inside for at least 24 hours, unless officials tell you something different.

That's the hard part. You'll want to go look. You'll want to check on the neighbors. Don't. The danger from fallout drops a lot over that first day. Every hour you wait makes it safer outside.

Eat what you've got. Drink bottled or sealed water. Keep the radio on. When officials say it's safe to move, or tell you to go somewhere, do what they say.

They go get the kids.

I understand it. Every parent and grandparent reading this feels it in their chest. But driving across town while fallout is coming down puts you in the worst place there is: outside, in a car, with nothing between you and the dust.

Schools, nursing homes and hospitals have their own plans. They'll keep people inside until it's safe. Your job is to stay alive so you can be there for them afterward.

That's a hard thing to decide in the moment. So decide it now.

Two things. Ten minutes.

First, pick your shelter spot. Walk your house. Basement if you have one. If not, the most central room with the fewest windows. Say it out loud so everyone hears it: "If the warning ever comes, we go here."

Second, have the talk with your family. Agree that nobody drives around looking for anybody. Everybody gets inside wherever they are, and you meet up when officials say it's safe.

That's it. Nothing to buy. Just a plan, made while it's quiet.

This is the first Dispatch, so the mailbag's empty. Let's fix that.

Hit reply and tell me: what did your parents or grandparents teach you about emergencies? Or ask me anything you've been wondering about. I'll answer one each week.

See you next time.

— Cole