by Jordan Rivet
“Hello, Blue Team Seven! My name is Garrett Lewis. I arrived at the beginning of the week, so the BRP officials put me in charge of our group. I don’t know much more than you, but I’ll be your contact point for the rest of orientation.”
The others mumbled greetings, none quite matching Garrett’s enthusiasm. Undeterred, he gestured around the courtyard with his clipboard. “The first thing you’ll learn about this place is that everyone steps in wherever they’re needed. We’ll all have to do that in the future, and it’s good to be proactive from the start.”
The others watched him blankly. He shrugged and squeezed onto the bench next to Joanna, their eyes meeting as she shifted to make room.
“Oh,” he said brightly. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He grinned at her in a dazed kind of way, and Troy snickered. When Garrett didn’t continue his speech, Joanna flashed a cheesy grin at him, and he blushed to his hairline.
“Okay, well, let’s go around in a circle and introduce ourselves,” he said. “We have a few minutes before our activity begins. Why don’t you say your name, where you’re from, and something interesting about yourself?”
“Oh goody,” Ruby muttered. “Are we going to do trust falls next? Or maybe a zip line?”
“Close,” Garrett said, unfazed by her tone. “Would you like to go first?”
“Fine. I’m Ruby from Reno. I like running and reading. Am I doing this right?”
“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Garrett said. He sounded as if he meant it too.
Ruby snorted softly and looked down at the picnic table.
“How about you?” Garrett turned to Chloe, the girl who had been eager to share her theory about the not-so-random selection process. She was black, with long, spindly fingers, and she kept fiddling with the neat bun on top of her head. Chloe was from Northern California, and her interesting fact was that she had been working on a tech start-up in her dorm room at Berkeley.
“We were going to launch this winter, but my partners decided to go home as soon as they confirmed the comet’s trajectory with their own computer models.” Chloe sighed, as if the cancellation of her project was almost as disappointing as the coming demise of humanity.
Garrett nodded at Vincent next. When he didn’t respond, Ruby elbowed him.
“Must be my turn,” he said. “Right, so I’m from Hong Kong originally. I went to boarding school in the UK, and I was on a gap year in the states when the comet was spotted.”
“You bought your way into the bunker program,” said Blake, “and you’re not even American?”
“I’m a US citizen,” Vincent said.
“Didn’t know you could buy that too,” Ruby muttered.
A frisson of tension went through the group, a taut band stretching between them. Most countries had their own bunker programs, but an underground market had cropped up as people traded citizenships for a chance at what they perceived to be their best option for survival, magnifying every preexisting nationalistic and racial issue.
“What was boarding school like?” Joanna said quickly, sensing the fragility of the moment.
“Well, it was an all-boys school,” Vincent said, “so the dorms smelled pretty bad.”
Everyone chuckled, the tension loosening a little.
“Let’s continue with our introductions,” Garrett said. “They’ll be calling us for the activity soon.”
The rest of the group shared their names and personal trivia. When it was Joanna’s turn, she told them her claim to fame: she had been the only member of her high school class to graduate in the end. They’d held the ceremony in the gym, and a surprising number of people turned out to congratulate her. She remembered the squeak of her shoes on the waxed floor, the hugs from her friends, the teacher who squeezed her face in both hands as if she could cram a little extra knowledge into her head, the stuffed koala bear wrapped in crinkly plastic that her dad had stolen from an abandoned gift shop.
“That’s admirable,” Garrett said. “You stuck to your responsibilities even when it was hard.”
“I had a bunker spot by then,” Joanna said. “I had something to live for.”
“Still. You should be proud.”
Joanna flushed at the praise. “It’s your turn, Blue Leader,” she said. “Where are you from?”
“Montana originally,” Garrett said. “I was a junior at Colorado State until recently.”
“And your interesting fact?”
“I have five younger brothers,” Garrett said.
“I feel sorry for your mom,” Ruby said.
Garrett laughed. “Having a big family was her idea. Not sure she knew how outnumbered she’d be, though.”
“I’m sure she’s happy one of her children got selected for BRP,” Chloe said. “She had better odds than most.”
“They wouldn’t let us switch places,” Garrett said.
He didn’t elaborate, his shoulders tightening as he examined a typed schedule on his clipboard. The others shifted awkwardly on the hard benches.
The sound of rumbling engines and crunching gravel announced the arrival of a fleet of vans and mismatched school buses at the open end of the courtyard.
“All right, folks.” Garrett stood, his voice determinedly cheery. “It’s time for the ice breaker.”
“Zip line?” Ruby said sweetly.
“Even better.” Garrett grinned. “Whitewater rafting. I hope you like the great outdoors.”
Ruby was still gaping at him as the rest of the group headed for the vehicles.
Whitewater rafting was not how Joanna expected to spend her first day at science fiction camp. Garrett explained that BRP wanted to create cohesive teams that could work together in hazardous situations. Everything from their classes to their duties to their van assignments would be organized around their team.
“If we can’t work together, we have to find out now,” Garrett said as they bumped along a pockmarked road toward the rafting site. “That’s why they’re sending us rafting.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” Chloe asked. “Don’t they want to keep us alive?”
“We won’t survive without our teams,” Garrett said.
“And hey, if we die, plenty of people will line up to take our places,” Troy said.
“If they can find us,” Joanna said. “Remember everything about BRP is top-secret. No one knows we’re here.” She hadn’t told anyone but her parents that she got in. She’d tried to tell them the orientation location, but her dad had refused the information outright and warned her not to mention it around others.
“Uh.” Blake cleared his throat. “Did anyone else figure that was just a guideline?”
Garrett frowned. “You told people where you were going?”
“That was against the rules!” Chloe said. “Think of the repercussions if everyone learned where the training was being held.”
Blake rolled his shoulders. “I didn’t give them an address.”
“Still, weren’t people jealous?”
“A lot of folks in my town think the comet is a conspiracy,” Blake said. “I reckon they’re expecting all the hype to blow over by the winter.”
“A conspiracy?” Chloe gawped at him. “But the scientific evidence—”
The van gave a violent jolt, bouncing Chloe almost to the roof.
“Geez, can’t someone else drive?” Ruby muttered.
“Sorry, y’all!” called the driver from the front seat. “The suspension on this baby is shot to hell.”
“Oh, I forgot to introduce the eighth member of Blue Team Seven,” Garrett said. “This is Beth. She arrived right after I did, which is how she got driving duty.”
“Yo.” Beth waved without looking back, showing off a lithe woman tattooed on her arm.
They turned onto a dirt road, more mud than gravel, and drove through a dense forest of old pine trees. Out here in the wilderness, there was no evidence of the mayhem and melancholy that had spread across the planet. It felt so . . . no
rmal.
Garrett turned around in the shotgun seat to address Joanna, who sat directly behind him. “Have you ever been rafting before?”
“Nope. But I drive a paddle boat like a champ.”
Garrett smiled. “Well, don’t be nervous. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
Joanna blinked, taken aback by the attention. “I’m not nervous.”
“Oooh, Garrett, will you protect me too?” Ruby said.
“Yeah, Garrett, how about me?” Blake flung his hand against his forehead and gave a passable impression of a swooning damsel in distress. “I’m so nervous.”
“Hey now,” Garrett said genially. “No need to tease.” A blush spread to his hairline again as he caught Joanna’s eye. She grinned back.
Abruptly, the van skidded to a stop in a puff of dust.
“We’re here, kids,” Beth said. “Make sure Garrett tells you all about his Eagle Scout project later. It’s a swell story.” She shot him a toothy grin before hopping down from the van and leading the way toward the rafts lined up along the bank of the river.
Ten points to me, Joanna thought as she climbed out of the van. Knew he was a Boy Scout.
They exited the vehicle to find half a dozen other teams—Blue Four, Five, and Six, and a bunch of people from Team Yellow—already waiting for their turn on the river. Chloe took Vincent’s arm and led him across the rocky riverbank, describing their forested surroundings in rapid detail over the rush of the current. Ruby and Blake converged on Beth and their raft while Garrett asked Joanna and Troy to help him collect life vests, which were piled beside a run-down cabin with a large sign advertising “Whitewater Rafting, Kayaking, and Wilderness Adventures,” another facility BRP had commandeered for its own use.
“I was expecting to find more shiny white hallways and space-age gadgets at BRP,” Joanna said as they gathered up the musty orange life vests.
“Tell me about it,” Troy said. “I thought they’d given me the wrong address when I rocked up yesterday.”
“There just wasn’t enough warning,” Garrett said. “It’s a miracle they got the program up and running as quickly as they did. It feels a bit thrown-together, but if cryogenics weren’t already so advanced, the whole thing would have been impossible.”
“And we would have died out, just like that.” Troy looked up at the pine trees lining the rushing river. Birds flitted from branch to branch, and a pair of squirrels chased each other up the nearest trunk. One carried a bright bit of plastic in its mouth. “The planet might not mind being rid of us.”
“It’ll have to put up with us a bit longer,” Joanna said. “I intend to live to a hundred—if we don’t drown in the next fifteen minutes, that is.”
“That’s the spirit.” Garrett grinned at her, and once again he seemed to forget what he was doing. As Joanna met his eyes, the most curious feeling shot through her, like a sip of hot coffee on a rainy morning.
This time she was the one to blush and drop her gaze.
Whoever had come up with the whitewater rafting idea had been right. Nothing helped people bond faster than shared danger. They hollered and churned their way down that river, and by the time they clambered out at the other end of the rapids, drenched and shivering and laughing like crazy, they were a team.
Chapter Six
Joanna finished as many protein bars as she could stomach, keeping an eye on the drooping ceiling. Then, as carefully as if walking through a house of cards, she tiptoed to the row of compact camp showers. The first dozen shower units didn’t work. She made her way down the line, her movements mechanical, until she found one with its water tank still intact. She peeled off her leotard, washed the cryo liquid out of her hair, and scrubbed her pallid skin until it turned pink, listening for hints that the chamber was unstable. The lights went out twice more during her shower, which she kept to the five-minute limit dictated by BRP.
Just keep moving, she told herself, not daring to contemplate what would happen if the lights didn’t come back on next time. She couldn’t afford to slow down. Gathering strength bit by bit, she wrapped herself in a papery towel and padded over to the clothing lockers located beside the showers.
She stopped short at the sight of the locker numbers. They were so clinical, printed in white on the gunmetal-gray boxes. Each number from 1 to 1000 represented a person, someone she’d worked alongside, someone she’d gotten to know over the course of three intense months. Tears flooded her eyes with the suddenness of a summer monsoon, and she slid to the ground, her legs and the calories she’d consumed not enough to sustain her. She wrapped her arms tight around her body, as if inhabiting a smaller space could reduce the magnitude of her grief, and cried into her damp towel. The sound of her sobs kept the terrible silence at bay—at least for a little while.
When she’d emptied herself of tears, Joanna picked herself up off the floor and got on with business, still hiccupping occasionally. She dug through the small pile of belongings she’d saved—family photos, the stuffed koala, her diploma—and pulled out a pair of jeans and a soft green sweater. She supposed she could wear someone else’s clothes if she wanted. She’d always admired Ruby’s fashion sense. But opening any locker except her own, number 188, felt like confirmation that everyone in the bunker was dead.
“One step at a time,” she told herself. “That’s all you can do.”
She grabbed her Converse from the bottom of her locker and padded back to the exit chamber in bare feet, the linoleum floor cool against her toes. She paused at the empty couches, fighting the urge to sit down and cry again.
Remember the routine. What comes after your shower? The exit procedure was supposed to help anchor them in these first bewildering moments. If they had all awakened together, they would have done a group session of light calisthenics to help get the blood flowing in their bodies. They needed to be fully functional as quickly as possible. With a glance at the lights—on for now—Joanna sat down and began to stretch.
Their training had included an aggressive fitness regimen, as cryosleep would be hard on them physically even if everything went according to plan. Her body definitely felt weaker after her time in the tank, but her muscles hadn’t atrophied as badly as she’d feared. The cryo tank had halted the growth of her hair and nails too. Her reddish-brown hair fell around her face in a damp curtain, still shoulder-length, as she tried to touch her toes.
While she stretched, Joanna studied the empty exit chamber, the cracked, sagging ceiling—worse than before?—the cupboards full of supplies, the scuffed floor. A trail of dust led away from the cryo room door from her earlier entrance, and a faint acrid smell lingered. An oppressive silence hung over everything.
She needed to get in touch with another bunker. Every BRP facility in North America was scheduled to wake up at exactly the same time. BRP had instructed each group to spend a year establishing their communities and scouting potential settlement locations before connecting with the others. Smaller groups would be easier to manage, and a year would give them plenty of time to explore their new surroundings. The individual groups could then decide whether they wanted to remain independent or join forces.
Joanna definitely couldn’t wait a full year to reach out to the other bunkers. The several dozen cohorts spread across the country hadn’t had any contact with each other during orientation. How would they react to a lone stranger from a different bunker?
She glanced at the cryo room door again, and the image of Troy’s bones lying in the dust flashed before her, so clear it almost sent her into a fetal position again. She quickly pulled on her Converse and got to her feet. The exit procedure called for a few hours of relaxation to let her body adjust, but she couldn’t afford to sit around.
She needed to make sure the elevator in the primary mineshaft still worked. They’d spent a lot of time trundling up and down in the creaky industrial lift during their frantic final weeks. It had made the sheer depth of the bunker feel more real to Joanna. The lift opened into the
main control room, which was stocked with computers and high-tech gadgets that would allow her to assess the conditions outside the bunker. It would be her doorway to the surface.
Joanna shuffled down the short corridor leading from the exit chamber to the control room. She held her breath, feeling hopeful, and pushed open the door.
That was when she knew she was really in trouble.
Like the cryo chamber, the control room looked as if it had been through an earthquake. Most of the ceiling and half the emergency lights were still intact, illuminating the fact that a wall had given way, sending a rockslide tumbling across the delicate equipment. That wall had separated the control room from a storage chamber. A vast network of tunnels—left over from the bunker’s time as a silver mine—were stuffed full of everything they needed for the future. Tools, fabric, and burst sacks of seeds mixed in with the rubble half burying the computers.
Joanna circled the control room, climbing over rocks and pushing power buttons on the equipment. Only two computers showed any signs of life. When she switched them on, the screens flickered and the machines hummed then fell silent.
“And you were just worried about whether or not you would remember how to work the darn things.”
They’d all been shown how to use the atmospheric monitoring equipment and communications devices, but she never imagined she’d have to do it by herself—much less fix the equipment if it broke. Chloe, their resident tech genius, had asked most of the questions during that particular training session. It had been all too easy to rely on the strengths of her teammates.
“That’s what you get for not paying attention,” Joanna mumbled. “You were probably too busy picturing Garrett in his cryo leotard.”
Her stomach knotted up, the protein bars churning unpleasantly. How was she going to contact the other bunkers? She didn’t know exactly where they were located, unless a map was buried in all this rubble. More importantly, how would she know if it was even safe to emerge into the open air?