Fear: The Quiet Apocalypse

by T M Edwards

  Now that she mentioned it, I realized that I was.

  Dr. Haroun walked out of the tent, and the flaps swung closed behind her.

  “You’ll like the food here. The cook can make a 7-course meal out of a bunch of canned food,” Sam remarked.

  “Sam,” I interrupted. “I need to get caught up. What is this place?”

  Sam stood up and from the end of the bed where I couldn’t see it, hooked his foot around a rolling stool and pulled it toward him across the concrete floor. He sat on it, twisting it slightly back and forth in an absent-minded manner. “I don’t even know how to explain this place. It’s like they knew all this stuff would happen, and they built this huge bunker out in the middle of the desert. It’s amazing. It’s set up perfectly for this exact kind of scenario.”

  I vaguely remembered some online videos I’d watched about similar people. “I don’t think they knew. They just thought something might happen. They’re called preppers or something.”

  Sam waved the hand that wasn’t in the sling. “Whatever. Anyway, this guy somehow dug out a huge chunk of the desert and put one of those half-circle airplane hangars down here. It’s got windows in the top to let in sunlight, and everything else is underground. It’s got its own solar power and everything.”

  “Was that the guy with the helicopter?”

  Sam shook his head, and laughed. “No, that’s the great part. This whole place is shielded from whatever caused everyone else to go crazy. When it happened, he advertised for people to come stay here instead of evacuating. Most just ignored him, but he’s got over two hundred people here. This place has its own solar power, and wells, and huge stores of fuel for cars. He’s even got some of those big shipping containers off the main space, like rooms, and he’s got a computer room, a radio room, and a couple hydroponics rooms. It’s amazing.”

  “Sounds too good to be true,” I remarked dryly. Not only the space, but that a prepper, who was of a breed that was notoriously guarded about the locations of their bunkers, would just invite massive numbers of people to join him here.

  “Probably. But still, they’ve got all these survivors here, and they’re working at trying to solve whatever’s going on outside. It’s not actually, radiation, by the way. That was a rumor someone started.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, some conspiracy theorist or something. He hacked some media outlet and started the rumor, and everyone else picked it up. It’s definitely spreading outward from the object, but it’s not radiation.”

  “But...then what is it?”

  “It’s some sort of spore that’s spreading through the atmosphere. Like some sort of mind-altering, hallucinogenic drug.”

  I stared at him, completely unsure how to interpret this Sam that had gone back to his more charming, energetic self. “You act like that’s somehow better.”

  Sam grinned. “It is! Because it means that anybody who’s breathing filtered air is fine. The air down here is fine, because this guy was prepared for everything, including some mutant virus or electromagnetic particles, or whatever else might pass through the air and infect people.”

  This place has to have a catch. There’s no way this is all as good as it seems.

  “Then why did the radio broadcast say…”

  “Oh, yeah. Somebody set that up before they figured out about the spores. They aren’t actually broadcasting it here anymore. There were a few preppers across the country that picked it up and started looping it from their little radio stations before they left to come here. This place isn’t even broadcasting that message. That’s how we could hear it from so far away.”

  Well, this place just had a solution and answer for everything, didn’t it? “So...what happens now?”

  “First, you have to get better. Everybody has a job here, but they’ve got special stuff for us to do, since we’re not affected by the spores. They’re working on portable filtration masks, but it seems like the spores have some effect through skin contact, so nobody can be outside for long without a hazmat suit, except for us.”

  Dr. Haroun appeared back in the doorway, carrying a tray of food. “I hope you haven’t been talking her ear off, Mr. Harrison.” She smiled at me, and set the tray on my lap. “He barely left your side since you got here. You’ve got a good friend, Ms. Scott.”

  Sam looked awkwardly down at the floor.

  I felt bad for him, because I knew the insecurity and fears that he covered up with his charm. “I know.” Dr. Haroun chuckled and then walked out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind her.

  Sam looked up at me and searched my face, as if he was trying to be sure that I wasn’t being sarcastic. I wasn’t. My head hurt far too badly, and I was way too hungry to be anything but serious.

  I adjusted the tray, which held a bowl of oatmeal and a bowl of canned peaches. “A seven-course meal, huh?”

  “Shh. Just try it.”

  So I did. Sam was right. Whoever had made this was a magician with spices. I couldn’t identify all of the flavors, but they were magnificent. I ate slowly, knowing from the empty cramping in my stomach that I would probably regret any decision to eat too quickly or too much.

  Sam watched me eat until I grew completely embarrassed and set the spoon down. “You act like I’ve come back from the dead or something.”

  His eyes flicked toward the machine next to the IV pole which beeped steadily with my heartbeat. “For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to make it.” He sighed. “I never would have forgiven myself if I let that happen.”

  I made an expression that was supposed to be encouraging, but probably just looked pained. “I managed to survive this long without you, ya know?”

  Sam sighed. “I’m aware.”

  I couldn’t put my finger on the awkwardness that was infused into this conversation. Maybe almost getting killed does that to you, when the other person thinks it’s their fault. Maybe this was just us...two people who had needed each other to survive, but now really had nothing in common. Well, besides the fact that we were expected to somehow save the world. But besides that, nothing much.

  I slowly finished my food, then Sam set the tray on the table. I sighed and let my head fall back against the pillows, already exhausted.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded with my eyes closed. “Just tired. Head hurts.”

  Sam stood up. “I should go, and let you rest.”

  Before I’d even had time to think, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Please don’t,” I begged, desperate to not be alone in this strange place. “Please stay.”

  An expression I couldn’t identify passed over Sam’s features. “Okay. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  Relieved, I let my head drop back again. The next thing I remembered was waking to find Sam asleep on a cot in the corner, and light streaming in through the crack in the tent door.

  Day 44

  The tent flaps parted to reveal a young woman dressed in scrubs, with a long, dark braid that fell forward over her shoulder. Her skin was a shade I couldn’t quite identify, neither fully black nor Caucasian. Whatever her nationality, she had an exotic sort of beauty that made me irrationally jealous when she shot a smile at Sam. She was carrying a stack of what looked like clothes and towels.

  “Good morning!” she said brightly, and set the stack on my bed. “Dr. Haroun says you’re recovered enough for a tour of the bunker, and maybe even a shower! How does that sound?”

  I glanced over at Sam, who had sat up at the noise, and was rubbing his eyes.

  “That sounds good, I guess.”

  She smiled brightly. “Great! My name is Kiera, and I think between me and your friend over here, we should be able to show you all we’ve got to offer here!” She smiled at Sam, and I could have sworn she winked at him. He just blinked, then glanced at me as if he was just as unsure of what had happened as I was.

  Maybe I’d imagined it. Kiera turned, without missing a beat, and left the tent, reappearing
a few seconds later with a wheelchair. She and Sam helped me into it, and then Kiera placed the folded towels and clothing in my lap. “I think we should check out the showers first, what do you think?” She phrased it as a question, but it didn’t feel like one. I certainly wasn’t protesting. Someone had cleaned the worst of the dirt off of my exposed skin while I was unconscious, but I could still feel my skin crawling from the buildup of dirt and grime.

  “It’s okay, I can push her,” Kiera offered, when Sam tried to take hold of the wheelchair with his good arm. “You rest that arm. You know, if you want to go to breakfast, me and Deidre will join you once we’re done. How does that sound?”

  Again, not a question. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. “I’ll be okay,” I assured him.

  So Sam left, and Kiera wheeled me out of the tent. We emerged into the bunker itself, which was exactly as Sam had described. A great half-circle of corrugated metal arced over our heads, pierced by two great windows, one on either side of the domed apex. Each was rectangular, and at least fifty feet long. Bits of bushes and grasses peeked over the frames, and the sun’s rays streamed in to highlight the open space in the center of the bunker where tables were set up, one covered in steaming vats of food, and two longer ones surrounded by chairs.

  Milling among the tables were the people. I clutched at the neckline of my thin gown, feeling dangerously exposed. People stopped and looked at us, whispering among themselves as Kiera wheeled me along the edge of the open space. We travelled between the tables and tents that were set up around the outer edges of the space, toward a place where a doorway had been cut in the side of the bunker wall. We passed into the aisle between a tan tent and a green one, both constructed in the pavilion style intended for large groups of people, and entered the doorway.

  As soon as we entered the bathrooms, I could feel the change in humidity. To the right was a line of toilet stalls faced by sinks and mirrors opposite them. To my left was a row of showers, each one blocked from view only by a plastic curtain. The space was long and narrow. It looked like someone had tried to fit a functional group bathroom into a shipping container, which was very likely the case.

  Kiera turned the wheelchair to the left and parked it next to the wall of the nearest shower. There wasn’t enough room to push it between the showers and the wall. “This one here has a chair. You’ll have to keep your leg from getting wet, do you think you can manage that?”

  I nodded, and Kiera helped me walk to the shower. Each one consisted of two compartments, one with a bench for putting clothes and towels, and an inner one with the showerhead and drain. They were divided from each other, and from the aisle, by curtains.

  Kiera pressed five tokens into my hand. “We’re normally only allowed two minutes, but since this is your first time, I managed to get you a bit more time. Each token gives you hot water for two minutes. We all were new here, once, and we remember what it was like to go for days with barely enough water to drink, let alone for anything else.”

  I thanked her and limped into the compartment, where I set the towels and clothes down on the bench. I put the tokens in the little box next to the entrance of the second compartment, and sat on the plastic chair with my splinted leg awkwardly sticking through the curtain in an attempt to keep it dry.

  There were soap and shampoo dispensers, clearly labeled, on the inside of the shower. I shook my head in amazement. This guy, whoever he was, the one that built this place, he sure thought of everything. It was like he’d known what was coming, and had planned for it all. I would have found it a bit creepy if I wasn’t so grateful.

  The water that ran from my hair was dark brown. I didn’t even know it was possible for hair to collect so much dirt. I washed it a second time, and again, until the water ran clear.

  Afterward, I stood in the outer compartment and picked up the clothes. “I think these are too small,” I remarked to Kiera, who I could see through a tiny gap in the curtain. She was sitting in my wheelchair, studying her fingernails.

  She laughed. “Everyone says that. I’ve never been wrong yet. Try them on.”

  I did, fully expecting to feel like a potato stuffed in pantyhose, but she was right. The gray t-shirt and sweatpants fit as if I’d bought them myself. When I emerged from the shower with the damp towel over my arm and my hair dripping, she raised an eyebrow and smiled. “So?”

  I shrugged, and she jumped up to help me back to the wheelchair. “You were right.”

  Kiera tossed the towel into a bin that stood in the corner. “You walked several hundred miles on hardly any food. Most people who make it here are a little...smaller...than they started out.”

  She pushed the wheelchair over to the sinks and the mirrors, and I pulled myself up to a standing position. I looked at myself in the misty glass. Kiera was right. Just a month and a half since everything changed, yet I looked different. There were slight angles to my face where there had once just been roundness. I could see hints of my collarbone. I reached up to touch my face. “This is so weird.”

  The young woman pulled a comb out of her scrubs pocket and held it up, obviously asking for permission. When I nodded, she pulled it through my hair, her hands fast and sure. Even though I knew my hair was knotted almost to the point of being matted, I barely felt a thing as she worked through the snarls. I couldn’t help staring at myself in the mirror. If it wasn’t for the bright green of my eyes, and the freckles dotting my skin, I might have needed a double-take to recognize myself. If this apocalypse continued much longer, I might actually lose enough weight to feel pretty again.

  Once Kiera was finished combing, she pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and with fingers so fast that they blurred, she bound my hair in a French braid that ended around the bottom of my shoulder blades. “There. We only get two tokens a week, so we use braids to keep the hair clean longer.”

  I looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Thank you.” I still hadn’t quite forgiven her for flirting with Sam, but she was hard not to like, the exact kind of person I never quite trusted.

  “Ready for breakfast now?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but I think I can operate the wheelchair by myself. You don’t have to push me around everywhere.”

  “That’s alright, I don’t mind.” Thankfully, despite her words, she fell into step beside me and allowed me to push the wheels myself. It was hard work, and my arms were shaking by the time we reached the tables. Kiera patted me on the shoulder as I stopped moving, half-paralyzed when I realized everyone was staring at me. “You find a spot, I’ll bring you some food.”

  I wheeled the chair into place at the end of one of the emptier tables. There were only four people sitting along the length of it, which contained at least twenty chairs. During the time it had taken me to finish my shower, at least half of the people had dispersed, though at least a couple dozen were still eating. I couldn’t see Sam anywhere.

  I didn’t know where to look. Why was everyone staring? Was it because I was new? If I hadn’t just seen my face in the mirror, I would have wondered if something was wrong with me.

  A girl who looked to be mid-teens, with ebony skin and hair, picked up her tray and moved from halfway down the table to sit in the chair to my right.

  “You’re the girl who came in on the helicopter, aren’t you?”

  Taken aback by the blunt question, I nodded.

  “Didn’t some guy come with you?”

  “Yeah, Sam.” I realized that the girl’s eyes never met my own, but flitted all over the room.

  “Where’d he go?”

  I joined her in looking around. I was surprised Sam hadn’t waited for me. “I don’t know. I thought he would be here.”

  She tapped her lips with one fingernail, which had been bitten short. “I bet he’s talking to Dalen.”

  “I...who...who’s Dalen?”

  “Zena, are you talking the new girl’s ear off?” Kiera reappeared, deftly balancing a tray of food on either hand. She slid one on
to the table in front of me.

  “She’s fine,” I responded, looking at the scrambled eggs and oatmeal in front of me. My stomach growled so loudly that Zena laughed.

  “Okay. Well, tell her to leave you alone if she bothers you.” With that, Kiera walked off to sit next to another young woman at another table.

  I stared after Kiera in astonishment at the patronizing remark, then turned back to Zena. “You’re not bothering me, I swear.”

  Zena shrugged and stabbed her eggs with her fork. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about her. She’s not one of us, she doesn’t understand being different.”

  “You mean you’re…”

  The girl’s eyes actually met mine for a second before they slid away again. “Well, I’m not exactly like you. But I’m one of the few that aren’t affected by the object. I can go outside without losing my mind. Most of the people here, they were cringing puddles of goo when Dalen found them. Including Kiera. Or they were the weird survivalist ones that came in here looking all steampunk with their gas masks and bodysuits.”