I nod and smile, hoping that’s enough for now. I don’t know how to tell him all the emotions that are swirling through me right now. I’ve gone from complete optimism to the insignificance of a bug. My future is definitely not guaranteed here.
The soldiers spare us a cursory glance as we pass by the long rows of tables. Most are too enthralled in their meals or discussion to pay us any attention. I try not to look at them and focus on the display up ahead.
There is more food spread out on the serving counters than I have ever seen in my life. I didn’t know this amount of food could even still exist in the world. There are real eggs and fruit, vegetables, and bread.
I decide to try a small amount of everything. I want to experience every flavor they have so I can savor each one. My plate is piled high by the time I reach the end of the line.
Rhys already has a table for us so we join him. The stainless-steel bench seats are cold but the food is hot. I eat each piece separately and think about how each one tastes before moving onto the next type of food.
The raspberries are the best. They are sweet and juicy, just as nice as they look.
The old me, the one fresh out of the bunker, would have worried about how these foods were grown. I would have refused to eat anything until I was certain they weren’t contaminated by radiation from the meteorite.
Now, I eat what I can. I’ve been out for countless months. The radiation hasn’t killed me yet so I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist. These soldiers certainly don’t seem affected by any signs of radiation poisoning.
Besides, I think we’re most likely to die at the hands of the aliens than anything the meteorite left behind.
I don’t talk while we eat. I catch snippets of conversations from the others but don’t participate. I need to process this place and think of our next move before I’ll be entirely comfortable here.
Garlind starts a conversation with some soldiers sitting on the other side of the table. “How many people live down here?”
The soldier is probably in his forties. He’s got a few wrinkles around his eyes but his body is muscled. “Close to a thousand live in this bunker. Another few scattered in other locations around the state.”
Thousands of soldiers. My eyes practically bug out of my head at the number. We thought we might be able to find a few hundred remaining. This is beyond our wildest dreams.
Garlind continues, seemingly unfazed. “Have you been here since the meteorite?”
The soldier nods. “These bunkers have been here for over a hundred years, waiting for something like the meteorite to happen. We upgraded them with the latest technology before the time came for us to evacuate from above.”
“I’ve always heard the government wasn’t prepared for something so massive to happen,” Garlind says.
“Well, when you’re protecting the president of the United States, you need the highest level of security. We couldn’t have civilians storming this place.”
“This is where the president went?”
The soldier nods as he takes a mouthful of scrambled eggs. I know what they taste like now and they are delicious. My mouth waters for more. “The president is still here in his own secure suites. He is still the one calling the shots.”
I choke on my water.
I recover enough to ask, “Have you seen him?”
“Yeah. He occasionally joins our mission briefings. He works just as hard as the rest of us.”
The president will have been in office for two decades now. Twenty years and what has he done for his people? It seems like they are just hiding and patting themselves on the back for it. Meanwhile, everyone else is fighting every day for food and safety.
I realize my hands are in fists when my fingernails dig into my palms. These people are living lives of relative luxury compared to everyone else. It’s like they just don’t care about what’s going on outside their bunker.
They claim to work hard, but what are they doing for the people they swore to serve and protect? It’s the people outside that need help, not the president who probably hasn’t stepped foot out of the bunker since the world ended.
If I open my mouth now, I’m going to say something that will offend everyone here. So, for now, I have to bite my tongue so it doesn’t speak.
The walls don’t seem so nice now. They no longer represent protection, but hiding. That’s what they are all doing down here. They are ignoring all the worst things going on aboveground in the guise of serving their president.
My fantasy of staying here for a while and enjoying the food and housing vanish into thin air. I know I can’t relax when there is nothing being done to help the rest of the people of this world.
Rick might be working hard to kill the aliens, but then what? Are they really going to do anything with the information we provided? What other excuses can they use to avoid fighting the real enemy?
Garlind gives me a weird look when he notices my rigid posture. I try to give him a smile, mentally tell him that we’ll talk later. He eventually gets the hint and returns to his conversation with the soldier.
I don’t listen anymore. It only makes me angrier.
I’m glad when the food is all gone and Rhys suggests we have a look around and get to know our new surroundings. I trail behind them and see things with different eyes now.
The steel walls are cages.
The technology is precocious.
The soldiers are useless.
And somewhere deep within this complex is a president who turned his back on all his people for his own survival.
It’s no wonder I’m angry.
I had thought the people I’ve met along the way and the bitterness they spoke with was perhaps not justified. That the president and his government probably did everything he could but stopping a meteorite was beyond his abilities. I thought their judgment might not be fair.
Now, I know better.
Chapter 20
Later that night, I stare at the bunk above mine as I try to quiet my mind. Unfortunately, all my thoughts are churning around in a whirlpool. I can’t avoid them, no matter how hard I try.
As much as I vow to remain still so I don’t disturb my bunkmates, my body wants to toss and turn. The sheets feel oppressive as they twist around my legs. The pillow feels like concrete, a luxury I don’t deserve.
“What’s wrong?” Garlind asks in a whisper.
I turn over to face him. I can just make out the contours of his face in the shadows. “It feels wrong to be here.”
He lifts one side of his sheets. “Come on over so we can talk.”
It takes me two seconds to cross the tiny void between us and snuggle down into his bed. His warmth instantly envelops me and provides some of the reassurance I need.
“What do you mean it’s wrong?” he asks.
I take a breath, trying to work out how I could put my feelings into the right words. “Don’t you think it’s strange that an entire army is down here and yet they haven’t done anything to help the people aboveground?”
“I’m sure they’re trying. Rick said he’s been working on figuring out what he can about the aliens,” Garlind says softly. It’s typical of him to defend them. He does always like to see the positive in everything.
“But it’s been seventeen years, Garlind. We stumbled across a dead one by chance. Surely they could have figured this out in almost two decades.”
He pauses. Perhaps the truth of my statement is sinking in. “I guess it has been a while.”
“How many of us could they have saved in the past two decades?” I don’t expect an answer but this question has certainly been on my mind all day.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat against mine. He takes a very long time to reply but I don’t mind. “We’ll find out more about what they’re doing. Maybe there is a reason they haven’t been more…proactive in their approach. Just try to be openminded, okay? We don’t have all the facts yet.�
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I nod against his chest. “I’ll try.”
Only in his arms, do I find enough quietness to sleep.
In the morning, I’m keen to get going and find out all I can about the army’s mission and activities. I want to share in Garlind’s optimism so I will do everything I can to find facts that support his theory.
We eat as a foursome in the cafeteria but then break into pairs to cover more ground. We checked most of the doors on this level yesterday so know which areas our magic wristbands give us access to—which isn’t much.
Garlind and I decide to risk exploring further and take the elevator down to B2. Our wristbands give us access so they can’t have too much to hide down here.
I want to visit Rick again, see if he’s made any progress about the aliens. I know it’s only been a day but we gave him good information on how to kill the aliens. It certainly seemed like he was thinking hard about it when we were dismissed.
I knock on Rick’s door as our wristbands just give a red light when we swipe them. This area is supposed to be out of bounds for us. It’s most likely that way for most of the people in this bunker. Rick’s domain is probably his sanctuary.
It takes a while before the door opens. Rick’s disheveled face appears as he squints in the crack he’s made in the doorway. “Yes?”
“We were hoping we could talk some more,” I say. “About the aliens and stuff.”
He takes his time in eyeing both of us. His clothes are the same ones he had on yesterday—just with more wrinkles. Did he even sleep last night?
“We won’t take up much of your time,” Garlind adds.
Rick pulls open the door the entire way. “I’m very busy but there was something I want to clarify with you. Come in, come in.”
He makes sure the door is firmly closed behind us. His lab smells like some kind of chemical. With no windows, the single vent in the ceiling has to work extra hard to keep the oxygen breathable. I wonder if this has contributed to the scientist’s slightly scrambled mind.
We crowd around his computer as he waves us over. He furiously types on some buttons. “I’ve been running some simulations on the way to kill the aliens, as per your advice yesterday. I keep repeating it over and over again and get differing results.”
“So that means…?” I ask. He talks so fast it’s difficult keeping up with him at times.
“I’m not entirely sure your theory is valid,” he replies.
Garlind and I exchange a glance before he speaks. “But we saw the dead alien. He had those wounds. It didn’t look like anything else could have killed him. We know what we saw.”
“You may have seen a dead alien but unless you performed a comprehensive autopsy, there is no way to say for certain what killed him. Wounds can be misleading. Any doctor will tell you that.”
“Then try it on an actual alien,” I say, a little harsher than I meant to. All my frustrations are welling again, despite my promise to Garlind to keep an open mind.
“We’re not about to go running toward the enemy with the hopes of a teenager’s word to keep us safe,” Rick replies. “Nobody up above will move without some solid, real proof.”
I shake my head. Does he want us to go out and prove our information for him? Is that what they’re waiting for? I can understand why they have made no progress in the last seventeen years now.
They are too scared.
Rick spins around and faces us. “These extra-terrestrial creatures have been planning this invasion for decades, centuries perhaps, you don’t think they’ve ensured they will win? You don’t take on an entire planet unless you are sure you are superior.”
His comment stops me dead.
Surely, he can’t mean what I think he does.
“The meteorite struck seventeen years ago. They had no way of knowing our planet would be destroyed. How could they possible plan this invasion?” I ask.
A part of me doesn’t want to hear the answer.
A part of me knows what it is already.
Rick’s tone softens. “Who do you think sent the meteorite to Earth in the first place?”
“Wait,” Garlind says. “You think the aliens caused the meteorite? That they planned this whole thing?”
His eyebrows raise and wrinkle his forehead. “I don’t just think, I know. We received transmissions well before the strike. They wanted us to surrender, go peacefully. Allow them to obliterable our population.”
“How? Who?” My mind can only process one syllable questions right now.
“The original transmission was picked up by NASA. It was then shared with our president. From there, all the leaders of the world got together in a summit to discuss a course of action. We couldn’t fight the aliens and we couldn’t surrender. Eventually, our time for negotiations ran out. The aliens responded with the meteorite and took our planet by force.”
“How do you know all this?” Garlind asks.
“I worked for NASA as their chief scientist. It was me who first picked up the transmission,” Rick replies. He sounds more serious than I’ve ever heard him before.
I find a seat because I really need to sit down. Knowing the meteorite was intentional is something I’m finding difficult to comprehend.
How could they do that to us?
How could the world leaders allow it to happen?
But what choice did they have? Faced against an alien race that had technology and weapons far superior to ours, they would have been helpless. It’s not like they could defend their entire planet when confronted with such an advanced race that had no trouble killing everyone in their path.
My anger subsides a little. It would have been a horrible decision to face. The leaders were human too, they had the same at risk as the rest of the planet. The only difference was they knew the truth and could make preparations to hide when the worst-case scenario happened.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Rick says, almost as an apology.
We’re not just a world trying to recover from a meteorite strike. We are a world at war.
I have so many more questions but nothing will change the absolute sense of hopelessness that overwhelms me. I thought the aliens were just opportunists, not scheming dictators.
“How did they—”
Garlind’s question is cut off by a loud siren that starts wailing above our heads. A red light starts to spin and flash, turning the room into a disco.
“That’s not good,” Rick mutters.
Chapter 21
Rick moves faster than I thought he was capable of. In less than three seconds, he’s crossed the room and is running down the corridor.
We follow on his trail.
The siren pierces my eardrums and makes my head hurt. I can’t think of anything else except the noise and the flashing lights. Everything screams that something bad is happening but I can’t get Rick to slow down and tell me what it is.
He bypasses the elevator and heads to a set of stairs off to the side. The old man might appear weak, but I underestimated him. He takes the stairs two at a time as he goes up to level B1.
Rick pulls open the security door and runs into the corridor of the first level underground. He doesn’t afford us a backward glance as he is quickly swallowed up by the crush of people running in the same direction.
Garlind takes my hand before we step into the stream of soldiers. All we can do is follow them and hope they are heading away from the cause of the noise and not directly toward it. Based on what I’ve seen from this army so far, I doubt I’m wrong.
“We have to find Sarah and Rhys,” I yell in the hopes of being heard above the siren.
Garlind nods and searches the crowd in front and behind us. He’s taller than me so he can see more than just the backs of heads of those directly surrounding us.
We don’t have a choice but to follow everyone else. There are too many people and the corridors are too small to allow us to stop or go in a different direction.
As much as I fight to slow
down so we can find the others, the sweep of soldiers is a strong current. It swallows us up and pushes us forward.
I hold Garlind’s hand like he’s my lifeline. I can’t be separated from him too. It would be all too easy just to let go and give myself over to the flow.
That. Cannot. Happen.
I think of Sarah and how brave she always is. But no eight-year-old could hear this horrible wailing alarm and not be scared. I hope she is heading toward someplace safe—if only I knew where that was.
We pass a familiar corridor, the one that leads to our dorm room. I tug as hard as I can on Garlind’s hand and pull him in that direction. It’s a longshot, but perhaps Sarah and Rhys where there when the alarm sounded and still might be hiding out from all this madness.
Garlind quickly catches on and readily follows me away from the main corridor. There are fewer people here but they are still all headed in the opposite direction to us. We stick to the wall and edge along until we find our room.
It’s empty.
Our backpacks are still sitting on our bunk beds where we left them this morning. It didn’t seem pertinent to have to carry them around the bunker.
The siren is loud in here too. I want to cover my ears with my hands but that only makes it worse when I have to remove them again.
My head is starting to ache with the same constant beat.
“I think they’re all evacuating,” Garlind yells. Even here, alone, we have to shout to be heard over the siren.
“But why?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “No idea. Maybe something’s happened within the bunker. They have scientists here, perhaps they’ve accidently set off some chemicals or something.”
I can’t smell anything weird in the air and the vents haven’t stopped their constant spinning. “Maybe it’s an attack,” I reply.
Garlind’s brows wrinkle and mar his beautiful face. “We need to get out of here. If the soldiers are running, it means we should too. Sarah and Rhys are probably thinking the same thing.”
“But we can’t be sure.”
“No, we can’t.”
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