by Amber Garr
Leaves crunched in the distance, warning us that someone was walking this way. We instantly stepped apart like guilty teenagers as made our way to the cellar doors. Vee grabbed my hand and I squeezed her back.
Bide our time. We could do that. A few days more could be tolerated in order for us to get prepared.
A week and a half later, my dad and David still didn’t have a good plan in place. And the people at this little complex/insane asylum had grated on my last nerve.
I’d spent another ten hour day canning beets and corn, smashing berries for jam, and washing dishes without so much as a complete sentence shared amongst us. Every part of my feminist upbringing screamed at the outdated stereotypical division of jobs at this place. But when I looked around at the other women working next to me, I realized they probably wouldn’t be able to swing a pick axe three million times a day, which, according to Zach, is what the guys got to do. I’d teased him for exaggerating, but as I brushed my fingers over his calloused hand resting across my stomach tonight, I sympathized.
We were still sleeping in the same tiny cot built for one. Rumor had it that the rest of them would be filled by morning, as they were expecting a caravan of people From Washington, D.C. to arrive soon. My dad had informed us that we’d been lucky to get a spot here, but as I was washing the purple stains out of my hands every evening, I wondered how lucky we really were.
Nothing seemed real anymore. I didn’t think the destruction of our home had totally taken hold inside. A part of me kept thinking that we were just on a camping trip, or stuck in a nightmare, and this would all be over soon. Surely, at some point, people would realize that we can’t all live like wild animals in and get their shit together.
I lay awake in the middle of the night running a hundred scenarios through my mind about what would happen next. Zach’s rhythmic breathing helped pull me back into a pseudo-sleep each time I jolted to attention because my frantic heart wouldn’t calm down. But when the ground began to shake beneath us, the time for rest ended.
“What is that?” my mother yelled.
Several tremors rattled the walls, pieces of dirt and rock trickling to the floor. Zach’s grip tightened around my waist as I tried to push up to sitting. Everything shook—not bad enough to crumble to the ground, but concerning enough that we all knew something was wrong. The darkened sleeping quarters suddenly came alive, lights flashing on and off and people waking up in a panic. Then it went dark. Only the remnants of the tremors echoed through the silent space, with the inhalations and exhalations of worried citizens providing a background soundtrack.
“Vee?” Zach asked, sitting up beside me. He pulled his shirt down and dragged his shoes out from under the cot. “Any idea what this is about?” he whispered in my ear, his chin brushing lightly against my neck.
Just as I was about to answer, the flood lights kicked on and thrust us all into artificial daylight. I shielded my eyes while they tried to adjust, reaching for my shoes at the same time. The door to the large sleeping room slammed open and the three men who’d greeted us on the day of our arrival busted through in a hurry.
“Everyone to the bunkers. Now!”
“What’s going on?”
“Why do we have to move? Isn’t it safer here?”
For a group of people who seemed to pride themselves by staying silent, the noise was almost welcoming.
“Come on! Move!” One of the men yelled. He had a rifle in his hand, and although he hadn’t pointed it at anyone in particular, his threat was clear.
People stumbled out of bed, some clawing for their meager belongings, others leaving everything behind…even their pants and shirts. I had no idea what time it was, but everyone struggled to make their bodies cooperate. We stumbled into each other as the line squeezed through the narrow doorway and along the pathways cut into the rock. The ground continued to tremble although each time it seemed a little less intense. Pieces of the granite ceiling fell into my hair, but I kept moving along like the cattle in front of me.
Zach said they’d finished the one room he’d been digging and they’d since moved to another, so I was surprised when he yanked me off to the side and away from the others ahead.
“What are you doing?” I asked. He shoved me down a dark corridor and grabbed his dad’s arm.
“Come this way,” he yelled at our parents.
Our families complied, but a few others followed too until their bodies blocked the limited light from the pathway. Zach pushed me forward, forcing me to press my hands to the side against the cold, damp walls. “I can’t see anything,” I shouted.
“Here,” Zach said, and shoved something into my kidney.
I reached around to find the mini flashlight and wondered how useful that would really end up being. When I clicked it on though, I smiled. With enough light to see the twists and curves of the rocks in that surrounding us, I started making my way deeper into the bunker.
At one point, the walls opened up and we reached a dead end. I turned in a panic, having a brief attack of insecurity and wondering if I’d led us astray. But then Zach walked to the side wall and turned on a lone carpenter light. As it swung back and forth, the shadows danced across the room like restless spirits. Wide eyes watched, waiting for someone to explain something…anything.
“How did you know about this place?” a deep voice growled from the darkened corner.
We all turned at once, Zach stepping forward. “Who said that?” he asked.
A tall man, one of the ones with a gun from before, walked closer. “I did. And you’re not supposed to know about this.”
Curiosity claimed most of us. Those that weren’t watching the two guys now circled by spectators shifted their attention to the surrounding walls. On it, hundreds of weapons lined the shelves—guns, grenades, ammunition, and even some large metal boxes that could have contained anything.
“Holy shit,” someone muttered from the crowd.
“Why shouldn’t we know about this?” Zach snapped back. His dad moved closer, making his way between the two. “We live here. We work here. You shouldn’t be hiding things like this.” Zach looked around the room at the anxious eyes. “Plus, almost everyone knew anyway.”
“I didn’t know,” the mutterer whispered.
“Richard,” Zach’s dad said to the man with the gun, “this isn’t a problem.”
“I think it is a problem,” Richard said.
“No, the problem is what’s going on outside. Why are we in here?”
I had to marvel at the way David diffused the situation so quickly. No doubt the “leaders” of this facility would eventually come back to the fact that their stockpile had been exposed. But for now, Richard seemed resigned to let that fry on the backburner.
“D.C. has been attacked,” he stated. “The biggest nuclear bomb to hit us yet.” Richard’s solemn face instantly hushed us all.
“We could feel that from here?” I asked. Richard nodded along with my dad.
“Yeah, it was large enough,” Richard said.
“Are we safe?” My mom pushed her way forward. “I mean safe from the radiation?”
“We’re far enough away,” Richard confirmed. “But they’re saying everything within a thirty-mile radius of the blast zone is gone.”
Gone. Just gone. How many people lived in D.C.? It had to be a lot since they’d opened up several government refugee sites there.
“That’s got to be at least two million people,” an older woman whispered in the silence.
Nobody said a word. How could we? What could we possibly say that would make everything right in the world again? Nothing. We could say absolutely nothing.
In a dark and twisted place in my mind, I thought about all of the empty cots being saved for a group of people who would never arrive. And then my stomach roiled with nausea and I hunched over to try and control it.
“You okay?” Dan patted my back after he rushed to my side. Dan, who up unti
l right now, had done nothing but give me dirty looks.
“She’s fine,” Zach snapped, shoving Dan out of the way and creating a barrier with his body. “Don’t touch her again.”
“Relax, man. I was only being polite.” I watched Dan’s feet shuffle backward.
“You’re never polite,” Zach sneered.
I reached forward and grabbed Zach’s pant leg signaling that he could stop the act. A moment later, Dan disappeared and Zach was helping me walk toward my parents.
“Vee, what’s wrong with you?” my mom said. She brushed my hair out of my face and patted my forehead. “You’re as white as a ghost and you feel all clammy.”
I knocked her hand away gently. “I’m fine. Just needed a moment, that’s all.”
“Is the president alive?” The same older lady asked Richard.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I’m sure they would have moved him to a safer place by now,” another person guessed.
“I think he’s gone.”
We all turned to look at Dan, who was inspecting the grenades. “Why do you say that?” David asked.
Dan shrugged and continued his amateur assessment of weapons I doubted he even knew how to use. “My uncle is a Senator. He claims that the first family packed up and left a while ago. The President’s been conducting business virtually or over the phone for months.”
For a moment, the silence nearly suffocated us.
“Your uncle was in D.C.?” Richard finally asked.
Dan nodded, only now seeming to realize what that implied. A part of me wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t make my feet take me to him. Perhaps it was the way he twirled the grenade around in his hand, or maybe it was the deathly cold vibe he gave everyone.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said, voicing what all of us felt.
Dan shrugged and set the grenade down. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re all going to die sooner than later.”
“Well that’s a really positive outlook,” I mumbled to Zach who was standing close enough that our shoulders touched.
“He does have a point,” he whispered.
“Look, we’re going to be in here the rest of the night, so let’s just make ourselves as comfortable as possible,” Richard said to all of us but walking closer to Dan. “And don’t play with the weapons.” He snatched the grenade out of Dan’s hands and gave him a glare. Dan just made a face and sat down in the far corner of the room.
“Why are there so many weapons?” Mary asked David once we all settled into our own little piece of the bunker.
“They must be using this as a storage center,” David mused.
“Have you guys been collecting weapons on the supply runs?” my mom asked my dad.
He shook his head. “Not on the ones we’ve been on.”
“This seems off,” Mary said.
“Understatement of the year, Mom,” Zach groaned but then apologized when David gave him a look.
“How much longer do we need to stay?” I asked. But no one answered. We’re trained, since the time we are babies, to trust our parents. I knew they wouldn’t intentionally put us in harm’s way, but I was starting to second guess their promise that they would figure out a way to live somewhere other than here.
“It’s not so bad,” my dad finally said. “We have the necessities of life—food, water, shelter, each other. If we go out there…” His voice trailed off as he shared one of those looks with David.
“What? What will happen?” I asked.
“The place is falling apart everywhere outside of the government run facilities.”
“How do you know this?” Zach asked.
“We’ve seen some videos,” David answered.
“Videos?” My mom narrowed her eyes.
“It’s not important where we saw them, just know that they exist.” David rubbed his forehead. “And in the grand scheme of things, this place isn’t so bad.”
The four of us who hadn’t seen the videos sat back in a huff. We really didn’t know if that was the truth or not, or if the situation would be so bad for a group of six watching out for each other. But it did look like we would need to suck it up a little bit longer. I would continue to smash beets and rub the stains out of my hands, while Zach’s blisters healed twenty times over.
And maybe, one day, we’d be able to see the outside world again.
Vee and I had missed the first few supply runs, but a week later when it was time to go again, all six of us volunteered. Aside from wanting to see what it was all about, we really needed to get out of this cabin.
“How much longer do we have to stay here?” I asked my dad again while we filled the cars with empty crates and water containers.
“Why?”
“Because these people are weird,” I finally said.
My dad chuckled. “Weird?”
“Yeah, like doomsday preppers weird.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared,” he said, lifting the final crate into the back of our Jeep. “This is the safest place for us right now.”
“Yeah but don’t you think it’s strange how they don’t even talk to us? It’s like we have the plague or something.” In the three weeks since we’d arrived, I think I’d shared maybe five words with any of the other cabin inhabitants, aside from Dan’s little speech in the bunker. “It’s weird, Dad.”
“I’ll give you that,” he said. “But everyone is scared and no one really has a rule book on how to handle the apocalypse.”
The apocalypse. I never thought I’d really need to use that terminology. But when the bomb destroyed Washington D.C. nearly two weeks ago, that became our reality. Although several people told us that we were too far away to worry about nuclear radiation, I still wasn’t totally convinced. Perhaps our underground shelter was exactly where we needed to be for the rest of our lives. I guessed I could eventually get used to the weird people.
“Have you heard anything from Jen?” I asked about my sister. We hadn’t been able to contact my uncle since we’d fled Philadelphia.
My dad shook his head and I saw him press his lips together in a thin line. He only did that when he was trying to hide his emotions. “No, but I’m sure we will soon.” Patting me on the shoulder, he turned to walk back to the cabin. “I’ll go get the others.”
Knowing he needed a few minutes alone, I stayed by the Jeep. I worried about my sister every day, but something deep inside told me that she was still alive. I had to hope that I’d just know if she wasn’t. We were five years apart in age, and hadn’t always gotten along well, but I loved her. And I needed to believe that she was safe with my uncle and our cousins.
“You ready?” Vee’s voice startled me back into reality.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Did he tell you when we can leave this freak show?”
Laughing, I shrugged and kicked a stone on the ground. “No. He didn’t have a date in mind yet.”
Vee sat down in the open trunk and swung her feet back and forth in thought. “Did you bring our knives?”
“You mean my knives?”
“No,” she snapped. “I mean our knives, Zach. What’s yours is mine.”
“Really?” I huffed.
“Yep.” Vee’s smile spread wide across her face and her eyes sparkled with determination to win this argument.
“Well, I don’t recall signing those papers. Besides, you’re not going to stab anyone.”
She jumped down off the Jeep and crossed her arms in defiance. “I’d stab someone way before you would.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head and trying to force the thought of her having to stab someone out of my mind. “Besides, I already did,” I added, referring to the soldier back at the compound when we escaped.
“You only nicked him, Zach. Don’t act like you’re so awesome.”
“Hey, he surrendered, didn’t he?”
“Only when your moth
er pointed a gun at him,” she countered.
“Whatever,” I mumbled to myself.
“Mature,” she said, and sat back in the trunk while we waited. After a few moments, she spoke again. “I want a sword.”
“A sword?” Where did that come from?
“Yeah. I’d be like a badass assassin ninja.” She smiled and I couldn’t help but join her.
“I’d pay to see that,” I teased.
“Pay to see what?” her mom asked, tossing another empty crate in the Jeep.
“Nothing,” Vee said quickly, disappearing before her mother had another chance to pry.
I chuckled to myself, imagining Vee in a tight black leather outfit swinging a sword and chopping off heads. “Yeah, right,” I said to myself. “Like that would ever happen.” Vee may be tough but she couldn’t even kill a spider. Literally, she’d catch them and put them outside. There was no way Vivienne Witterly would be a sword-wielding killer.
“Okay, let’s go,” my dad said. “It will take about an hour to reach the supply station, but just stay on Route 22 until we reach Glenville,” he told Sampson. “Richard called the order in last week, so it should be ready for us when we arrive.”
“All right, you lead the way,” Vee’s dad said and headed toward their car. Vee was having a hushed conversation with her mother, cheeks flushed in frustration. She was probably telling her to be nice to me again. That woman was stubborn. Just like her daughter.
“You coming, Zach, or are you going to stare at Vee all day,” my dad joked.
“Very funny,” I mumbled as I got in the back seat.
“You know—”
“Mom, don’t even start. We’re just friends.”
“Okay.”
She turned back around to the front, but not before she winked at my dad. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. If the four of them got their way, Vee and I would be married within the year and single-handedly repopulate the world. I cringed at that thought. Not because of Vee, but because I thought about my parents thinking about things like that.
After an hour on the road, we finally reached the turn off to the supply center. In these rural areas, the government had established stations where locals could come and receive a monthly ration of drinking water. I’d heard that the government was leaning toward building more centralized communities with water towers that would support everyone, but it hadn’t happened this far off the grid yet.
