by Jordan Rivet
Other times, bone-shaking fear gripped her when she contemplated what would happen if all the bunkers had malfunctioned as hers had. What if she spent the rest of her life alone? She didn’t even have a pet. She’d heard a rumor that some BRP bunkers were preserving smaller mammals, but the main priority had been saving as many humans as possible. The insects crawling over the grass and creeping down her walls couldn’t ease Joanna’s solitude. Loneliness tended to strike like a viper, usually with little warning.
She hadn’t managed to repair any of the communication equipment in the control room yet. By all accounts, the closest BRP bunker was in Oregon, and she wanted to make sure they were alive before setting out. Even if their entire cohort had survived, they might be in no better condition than she was. With so many people, they’d have to work quickly to find water and resources in their vicinity. They would carefully ration the supplies from their own bunker for their larger populations. She doubted they’d be ready for visitors, and she could live on her bunker supplies for a while yet.
Besides, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her friends’ silent tomb so soon. She owed them a vigil before she left the bunker behind for good.
Joanna had been awake for a week and a day when she finally started to feel healthy. She had so far focused on bringing up as many supplies and food items as possible. She had a recurring nightmare in which she’d return to the shaft house one morning and discover the mineshaft was blocked. The rest the bunker cavern could collapse anytime, trapping the supplies in the storage tunnels forever.
It had taken nearly a week to empty all the exit-chamber cupboards. The supplies meant to get the entire cohort through their first few days would keep Joanna sustained for years, but she hoped to expand her diet eventually. She began to delve into the most accessible storage tunnels on the eighth day. They were densely packed at the front after the mad rush to fill them up, making it difficult to clear a path through the boxes, but they contained all kinds of gear to make homesteading and resettlement easier: farm equipment, solar panels, water filters, medicine, seeds, and a treasure trove of survival manuals.
Joanna had been working for a few hours when her mind strayed yet again to the second mineshaft. She set down a box of candles to give her hands a rest. The blisters on her fingers and feet had healed, and she was feeling reasonably fit. Could she handle the walk? The irrational hope that someone else had survived the cave-in returned in a rush. What if some other cryo tanks had opened on schedule, and her teammates were even now acclimatizing themselves to the new world? Yes, she had seen no sign of them on the surface, but she could go down the other mineshaft to find Garrett waiting for her.
Her hands began shaking, her stomach knotting up. The hope was excruciating. She forced herself to breathe steadily and remember the facts: she had been awake for eight days. She had seen no sign of other people above ground. She had seen the collapsed cavern below.
Realistic thoughts, Joanna, stick with realistic thoughts.
At least one major power line had been severed, causing the deaths of all the BRP early risers. It was a flat-out miracle that the line to Joanna’s cryo tank had survived. The far side of the bunker couldn’t possibly have retained power, even if it hadn’t fully caved in. And surely the others would have found her by now if they had survived.
Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up.
Unless they were stuck? They could need help, far from the comforts of the exit chamber. Anything was possible. Images swirled before her of what she might find. The mineshaft completely blocked. Bones ground to dust. Stiff bodies in cold tanks.
Or Garrett, alive and well, waiting for her to find him.
Joanna abandoned her work in the storage tunnel and marched back to the mineshaft. She had been careful long enough. Her legs might still be a bit shaky, but she couldn’t delay another minute. She had to know for sure what had happened on the other side of the bunker.
“Don’t you dare get your hopes up, Joanna Murphy.”
She hauled herself to the surface in record time. She wanted to run full speed to the other mineshaft, but she had learned her lesson after her ladder climb. She packed a knapsack from the supplies in the shaft house and charted her route. She’d bring extra bottles in case she spotted a water source while she was out. The countryside had turned green and lovely, and she might find a clean stream closer than she expected.
When she finished packing, she crossed the complex to her little house to retrieve her rain jacket. It was midday. She should have enough daylight left to make it to the other mineshaft and back before darkness fell.
A painful buzz of emotion filled her at the thought that she might see her team soon. That she might see Garrett. Some of her friends couldn’t possibly have survived the cave-in—Troy definitely hadn’t—but she pictured them all in a group anyway, waiting for her to join them. She knew it was wishful thinking. She knew all the evidence was against it. Still, she couldn’t help but hope.
“Remember the program.” She grabbed the jacket from her couch and shrugged it on. “Keep moving forward.” She pulled the zipper up to her throat as if it could defend her against disappointment.
But as she turned back to the door, something tugged at her awareness, a vague sense that everything wasn’t as it should be. She spun in a slow circle, surveying the room.
Something was out of place.
The extra hardhats were piled in the bin where she’d left them. Her rumpled blanket lay undisturbed on her couch. A small stash of food and a first aid kit covered the desk in the corner. What had changed? Had some animal been in here, rooting through her things? Or was she simply going crazy, seeing oddities where none existed?
Then she spotted the thing that was different, and icy fear spiked through her core. It wasn’t some subtle difference, some small item knocked askew by an animal intruder.
The rifle rack by the door was empty.
Chapter Twenty
Joanna was out the door in a flash. She stared wildly around the mining complex. Someone had been here. While she was down in the bunker or busy organizing supplies in the shaft house, someone had walked into her lair and stolen the weapons.
Fear bubbled in her stomach, oozing like oil. She was going to vomit. Someone had discovered her little hideout.
And the only things they took were the guns.
It couldn’t be her BRP cohort, liberated from the bunker through the other mineshaft. They would make contact, not creep in while she was underground to steal her stuff. They weren’t even her rifles, really. She hadn’t touched them since she made a home out of the vine-covered office.
She shuddered. This strange someone must have been watching her. They had waited until she was down in the bunker to sneak into her camp. She spun around, fighting panic, searching for some sign of her visitors.
The mine complex was quiet. Noon sunshine spilled across the greenery, which looked as fresh and untainted as ever. It was supposed to be her peaceful Garden of Eden at the beginning of a new world. So much for that.
A soft rustle made her jump for cover behind a moss-covered rubble heap, but it was only the wind hissing through the tall grass. She was alone.
Joanna crouched on the ground, her mind racing. Could her mysterious intruders be from a different BRP bunker? Would they have had time to make it this far? All the countdowns were supposed to end at the same time, and they were all supposed to remain near their own bunkers at first. She wanted to believe everyone would stick to the program rules, but she couldn’t deny that some cohorts might have rejected the guidelines already. Colonel Waters had certainly thought it likely.
Or had some people survived the comet’s impact after all? Perhaps the abandoned mining complex wasn’t representative of the rest of the country. Maybe the earth was already filled, already subdued. The virgin landscape she’d found upon waking could be an illusion. She had only seen this tiny corner of the world so far.
Hands shaking,
Joanna hoisted her travel pack onto her back and crept out of hiding. She knew what to do. She would walk to the other mineshaft as planned. The idea of strolling into the wild filled her with terror, but she had to know if anyone had made it out of her own bunker—and she had to know now. She might need backup.
Joanna returned to the shaft house, trying to look in every direction at once, and retrieved her pickaxe. Whoever was out there was armed and potentially hostile. She wasn’t about to march into the wilderness empty-handed. When she went back outside, she closed the shaft house doors and piled a few branches in front of them. The obstruction wouldn’t keep intruders away from her supplies, but if it moved she would know someone had come back into camp in her absence.
Joanna took a deep breath and set out from the mineshaft, heading due east. Fear still rattled her, and she kept up a barrage of commentary to stop herself from running back to hide in the bunker.
Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic. If anyone survived, you need them, and you need them now.
She crossed the boundary of the mine complex, indistinguishable now, and climbed the hill behind it. She gritted her teeth against the lingering soreness in her calves and thighs as she reached the top of the ridge and got her first good look at the surrounding landscape.
Lush green life rioted across the countryside. Nothing remained of the road they had taken to reach the complex so long ago. The trees were plentiful though shorter and stubbier than before. Despite her high vantage point, Joanna couldn’t see all the way to the headframe above the other mineshaft. She would have to push through dense vegetation to find it.
Please, oh, please let someone be alive over there.
There was no sign of the intruders who stole the rifles, no tracks or movement or whisper of voices. She hunched her shoulders against the invisible threat and set off.
Despite her fear, Joanna couldn’t help noticing how much bigger and wilder the world seemed. Moss grew unhindered across rocks and tree trunks. Huge patches of wildflowers bloomed on the hillsides. The colors were brighter and more vibrant than she remembered. Two hundred years ago, this area had been a wasteland. Decades of mineworkers had come and gone on well-worn roads. Then BRP arrived, caring little for the grasses and shrubs as they worked feverishly to convert the underground caverns into the cryo chamber. The land had been ruined by the time Joanna’s long sleep began.
The blast from the comet and the impact winter had surely destroyed the remaining plant life. The land must have been barren for years as smoke and debris cut off the sun, plunging the planet into darkness. But the skies had cleared eventually, leaving a fresh layer of ash and dust across the land. The seeds that survived had struggled through to reach the sun once more.
As Joanna marched through this explosion of new life, she kept expecting a bullet to rip through her and end her little expedition. What a legacy that would be for the new world. She remembered how hopeful Garrett had been that they could make the world a better place. He thought they could shun the violence that had characterized so much of human history. Blake and Ruby had been skeptical, and Colonel Waters downright dismissive, but Garrett had truly believed in the peace they could make in the future. Clearly whoever was out there didn’t feel the same way. They had taken the guns first.
Typical humans. Joanna tightened her grip on her pickaxe and trudged on.
She fell into a steady rhythm, feet thudding, inhaling, exhaling, heart keeping time. Branches and dead leaves crinkled underfoot. The heady aroma of summer flowers and damp earth drifted around her. She kept to a straight line, only altering her course to avoid thickets and bushes full of thorns.
Maybe you moved the rifles, she thought as she got farther from the mine. It has been a busy week. You’ve been rearranging things left and right. Did you even look to see if you’d put them somewhere else? They could be in that pile of tools by the mineshaft. Or did you stick them under the couch to get them out of your sight?
The inner monologue helped to distract her, but Joanna knew she hadn’t touched the weapons. Someone out there wanted her unarmed.
She began to lose the light. It was difficult to judge distances in this wild space. She must have walked the length of the cryo chamber by now. She worried she had overshot her mark. She couldn’t get caught out here after dark, strangers or no. Where was the other mineshaft?
A branch snapped behind her. Joanna whirled around, raising her pickaxe in a trembling fist.
Hazy light sifted through the leaves. No one there.
She continued on, shoulder blades itching, becoming less sure of her location with each passing minute. She had never actually been to the other mineshaft before. Was she walking in the wrong direction? She kept hoping she’d come upon survivors from her cohort, perhaps still sticky with cryo gel because they didn’t have access to the exit chamber showers. But her hopes, unlikely to begin with, faded with every step.
Had she seen that stand of trees before? That fallen log, its roots twisted like an ancient fist, looked remarkably familiar. She could have made a mistake, perhaps taken an unintended turn. The apprehension pulsing through her made it difficult to think clearly.
At last she spotted a dense shadow through the trees. She pushed through a mess of low-hanging branches and breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was a ramshackle headframe. She’d found the second mineshaft.
Joanna approached the structure cautiously. The bluff shape sat lower in the earth than the main headframe back at the complex, as if floods had piled extra silt and dirt around it over the centuries. That didn’t bode well for the mineshaft inside. Plants grew thick on the walls—so thick, in fact, that she would have missed it if she’d passed a dozen yards farther away. The concrete walls were cracked in multiple places, perhaps from water entering the crevices and freezing over the course of many winters. The door was shut, a thick layer of moss growing on its surface. The structure looked utterly abandoned.
Joanna fought a blast of despair. Her greatest hope had been to find her friends camped on the surface by the second mineshaft, ready to welcome her to their fireside. But it looked as though no one had been here in years.
Fighting tears, Joanna used her pickaxe to break open the door, revealing a dank space crawling with vegetation and insects. Creeping vines had broken through the walls and spread their fingers across the floor. She climbed over the tangled roots to the mineshaft door, which was partly ajar, and shined her flashlight into the abyss. Loose cables hung over the empty shaft, half of them rusted through. Even if the cage at the bottom hadn’t been crushed by the cave-in, it wasn’t going anywhere. She poked her head into the mineshaft, shining her light down until she spotted the glint of a metal ladder. Any survivors could have climbed out just as she had.
The state of the headframe door made it clear no one had escaped this way, but what if they were injured? What if they were waiting for someone to come to them? Joanna crouched on her heels, debating whether she had enough strength left to climb down and see for herself. Even now, she couldn’t snuff out that tiny ray of hope.
But something tickled at her senses. She rubbed her nose. A faint whiff reached her, a smell unlike any other aroma in the wilderness. It was a little like rotting eggs.
Joanna leapt back, clicking off her flashlight the instant she realized what she was smelling. They’d received long lectures about the dangers of gas pockets underground. She knew that scent. Stinkdamp. The mineshaft was filled with hydrogen sulfide. One concentrated breath of the substance could poison her to death—and that was if the whole pocket didn’t go up in flames.
She hurried back outside, tripping over the spreading vines as she tried to get away from the noxious odor oozing from the mineshaft. She slumped to the ground thirty feet away with her back to a tree trunk and took deep breaths of fresh air. That was too close.
She couldn’t deny the truth any longer. This confirmed her original assessment: everyone in the bunker was dead. Whether or not the entire cavern had coll
apsed beyond what she could see, no one would survive that gas. She was lucky none of the stinkdamp had leaked through to where her cryo tank was.
She snorted. Lucky. Right.
Joanna stayed where she was, as if her back had been super-glued to the tree. The forest was quiet around her. No sign of her mysterious rifle-stealing visitors disturbed the silence. Walking all the way out here now seemed pointless. She had witnessed the cave-in below and seen the battered cryo chamber. She had known this side wouldn’t be any different. Hope had compelled her to come out here, even though a stranger stalked her steps. She should have known better than to think her friends might be alive.
The light was fading fast. Listlessly, Joanna drank some water and chewed on a tasteless meal bar from her pack. Maybe it was just as well the gas prevented her from exploring the second mineshaft. If she climbed down now, she’d never make it up again before dark. She’d only have found more death. No one had walked through this area or opened the headframe door for a long time. Whoever stole her rifles had nothing to do with her BRP cohort.
But who could the intruder be? She knew her friends were gone now. She had to assume she had a new enemy.
As she studied the trees forming an irregular ring around the headframe, she recalled an argument she’d overheard between Blake and Garrett just two days before they went into cryosleep.
BEFORE
The camp had been hysterical by then. Their time was up. Brandon looked bigger than a planet in the night sky. All the things they planned to do, everything they still needed to learn had been shunted aside in the last desperate push to make sure the bunker was fully operational. The BRP participants helped with stocking tunnels, setting up cryo tanks, and even guarding the gates against the wild-eyed masses begging for salvation. Joanna managed to avoid that particular duty, but she heard the gunshots echoing across the complex clearly enough.
