I sit down next to Bruce on the leather sectional. “Hey, man. Can I interrupt your movie?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“You’re a subcontractor to Courson Builders, right?”
“Yeah. I was gonna set up the radios, but all my stuff is still in my truck. I was just checking things out down here before starting.”
“Is there anything at all down here that we can use to communicate with the outside?”
He looks around, his expression blank. “Nothing I can see. Cables were run inside the walls, but there’s nothing to connect them to.”
I nod. “Yeah, I figured it was unlikely, but I thought it was worth asking.”
“Derek,” Kenna says from behind the couch, “you still haven’t slept. Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll keep watch on the door?”
“I’m okay. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
After a few seconds of silence, I stand up. “Hey, why don’t I see if I can put together some dinner for us tonight? An actual meal instead of eating out of cans?”
Kenna laughs. “I’d better help. You’re not much of a gourmet.”
“I cook for myself sometimes.”
“You do grill an amazing steak.”
I blow out a breath. “No steaks down here. I’ll come up with something, though.”
On my way to the supply room, I pause by Matias and Erin.
“Are you drinking plenty of water?” I ask Erin.
She nods silently.
“I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”
“I won’t.”
I shift my attention to Matias. “You doing okay, man?”
“Yeah. You need help with dinner?”
“Nah, I got it. With any luck, we’ll be out of here before it’s even ready.”
He returns my confident smile, and I head to the storage room. I take two boxes of pasta and a big jar of tomato sauce from the shelves. It’s just fucking wrong to make meatless sauce, but I’ve got to work with what I’ve got.
I’m glad for the distraction as I boil water and heat up sauce. Questions are still racing through my mind, but there are no answers to any of them. I finish the pasta and ask Kenna to keep watch on the bunker door as I take a quick shower.
There are two bathrooms side by side down here, and they’re both small, with minimal frills. My shower’s pretty hot, though. I put my clothes back on when I’m done and walk back out to the main living area.
“Let’s eat,” I say.
Everyone comes over to the table the contractor made from one of the trees on the property. It seats up to twelve people. I run my hand over the smooth, lacquered surface, taking in the grooves from the tree trunk.
Kenna brings over the pot of finished pasta, and as she sets it down on the table, I realize there are only four of us. Erin is still sitting against the wall.
“Time to eat,” I tell her.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“You need to keep your strength up.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Being upset that we’re down here isn’t gonna change anything,” I say.
“I know that.”
I sigh softly. It’s like dealing with a teammate who’s being a fucking baby, which I’ve done many times. Being team captain is sometimes a pain in my ass.
“Just have a few bites,” I say.
“I might later.”
Kenna rolls her eyes in my direction, and I give up. The rest of us sit down and spoon pasta onto our plates.
“So…” Matias moves his food around on his plate, sets his fork down, and looks around the table. “This you guys’ first time being stuck in a doomsday bunker, or…?”
We share an awkward laugh.
“What are you missing out on right now, man?” I ask him.
He pulls his brows together and considers. “It’s early afternoon, right? I’d be down here hanging trim.” He shrugs.
“What about you?” I ask Bryce.
“I’d hopefully be on the way home for dinner with my wife and kids.”
“Where’s home?”
“Denver.”
“What about you, Kenna?” I ask.
“Let’s see…I think you’d be in New York right now. You have meetings there. So I’d be making sure the lodge gets cleaned and the groceries restocked after the party last night.”
I nod and put a bite of bland noodles and sauce in my mouth.
“What about you, Erin?” Matias asks.
Everyone turns to her. She looks up and over at us.
“What am I missing?” She smiles sadly. “I’m supposed to be leading a ten-day hiking and camping expedition about forty miles from here.”
“No shit?” Matias arches his brows, sounding impressed.
“No shit.”
I wasn’t expecting that from her. Of everyone down here, Erin seems the least like a leader. We already know she doesn’t stay cool under pressure.
“What kind of expedition?” I ask her. “Hunting?”
She shakes her head. “No, a group of teenagers. At Camp Caroline. I volunteer there.”
Ah. So, by “hiking and camping expedition,” she meant walking on marked trails and pitching a tent every night at a campsite.
“Nice. You ever done that before?” I ask.
“I’ve been doing it for eight years. Started when I was eighteen.”
“Sounds like fun.” I give her a polite smile.
“It’s fun, but challenging too.”
“Anything with an uphill trek is a good workout.”
She gives me a look. “I’m not talking about hills. I’ve done 5.14b climbs.”
I eye her skeptically. I’m a seasoned outdoorsman; I know the Yosemite Decimal Rating System. A 5.14b rated climber would be expert level—one notch away from the best climbers in the world.
“You don’t believe me.” Her tone is amused.
“I’m in peak physical condition, and I’m maybe at a 5.12b,” I say. “Maybe.”
“Well, how often do you climb?”
I shrug. “When I can. Maybe three or four times a year.”
“There you go. I climb at least twice a month.”
Kenna jumps in. “Anyone could say anything down here, and we’d have no way to know if it’s true.” Her tone is laced with sarcasm.
“I have no reason to lie about it,” Erin says, shrugging. “And I don’t care whether you believe me.”
“I believe you,” Matias says. “And I think that’s awesome. Especially that you volunteer for it.”
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Bryce laughs and says, “Well, you could all outclimb me.” He pats his slightly rounded belly. “Climbing the stairs in my house is as advanced as I get.”
He gets some smiles and polite laughs, and then we fall back into quiet.
“Why hasn’t John come for us?” Kenna vocalizes the thing we’re all probably wondering about.
No one responds. I’m already weary of telling everyone to be patient, that help will come.
There are only two answers to her question, and I don’t like either one. Either John—the only person who knew we were down here—is the one who set this whole thing up, or he’s dead.
Chapter Five
Erin
I can hardly keep my eyes open. Between only sleeping in spurts and not eating, I have almost no energy.
It’s been three days. Three long, stressful days. Unless I had to use the bathroom, I’ve been sitting or lying on the floor near the bottom of the stairway the entire time. If that door opens, I want to run toward freedom.
But I’m worn out. The five of us have become a twisted version of the Breakfast Club down here, and if it weren’t so sad, it’d be funny.
There’s Bryce—the one who keeps to himself but occasionally interjects comments. He mostly reads, watches movies, or just stares into space.
Then there’s Kenna—the one I want to kick in the face. She’s always got a snarky
comment, at least for everyone but Derek. She treats him like God’s gift to humanity, laughing too loudly at every joke and offering help with his every move.
And Derek—the one who has appointed himself our leader. I mean, I don’t care. Telling us all we can take showers, reminding me to drink water, and assuring us that “help will come” seem to help him cope with being stuck down here. He also runs on the track twice a day and wipes off his sweaty face with the T-shirt he’s wearing—providing an ample view of his ripped stomach.
Obviously, I’m the Ally Sheedy in this mix. I seem to be the silent loner everyone keeps an eye on. My constant state of panic has passed, but I still have a queasy, unsettled feeling that never goes away.
Matias, though—he’s the one I’m starting to worry about. He always has a smile on his face and never complains, but being the silent one leaves me free to observe everyone else, and I’ve noticed that he hasn’t eaten much of anything down here. He takes a little food when it’s offered, but he just pushes it around the plate. He also doesn’t drink much, and he sometimes seems short of breath for no reason.
I’m watching him now, from my spot on the floor. He’s on the couch, looking down at his hands, which are in his lap. And even though Derek and Bryce are having an animated conversation about how the Raiders move to Las Vegas is changing the NFL’s rules on betting on football, Matias isn’t even paying attention. That’s not like him.
I get up from the floor and stretch my arms up, my back groaning in protest. That concrete floor is not a good place to spend three days.
As I walk over to the couch, Matias looks up at me and smiles. I sit down a few feet from him.
“How are you?” I ask him.
“Great. How about you?”
I shrug. “I’m okay.”
He nods and looks back down at his lap.
“Hey,” I say softly, so only he can hear. “I was thinking…want to make something to eat together? We can go check out the supply room and see if Derek’s hiding any steaks in there.”
Matias smiles. “Yeah, I wish.”
I nod toward the other end of the large bunker, where the door to the supply room is. “Let’s go.”
He shakes his head. “I’m good, but thanks.”
I turn sideways so I’m facing him on the couch. “I’m worried about you. Your face has thinned just from three days in here, and there wasn’t much extra meat on your bones to start with.”
His expression turns serious. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
He looks straight ahead, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. “Not really.”
His tone is so soft I can barely hear him. This is the first time I’ve seen him be anything but upbeat, and my worry intensifies.
“You can talk to me.” My tone is nearly a whisper now.
Matias turns to me and holds his hands out in front of him. I look down and see that they’re visibly swollen. My heart kicks up a notch as I look up and meet his dark brown eyes.
“I have chronic kidney disease,” he says. “Stage Four.”
My lips part slightly in surprise. Kidney disease? Matias? He looks like a healthy nineteen-year-old.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
His shoulders slump. “A lot of things. Means I have to limit my fluid intake and be careful what I eat. The swelling is from fluid retention.”
“Okay. So…this can be managed.”
“Kinda. I just found out last week that I’m at Stage Four. I was diagnosed at Stage Three a couple years ago. Stage Five is kidney failure.”
It’s not so much his words, but the worry in his tone, that renders me silent for a few seconds. And when I do speak, I don’t give him a pat on the back and tell him help will come soon. I know what it’s like to be worried sick, and he has very good reason to be. He needs validation right now, not an attaboy pep talk.
“What can I do to help?” I ask him.
He looks down at his hands again. “I guess, just…keep an eye on me. I haven’t said anything because there’s nothing anyone can do about it, you know?”
I nod. “So you said you have to be careful what you eat. What does that mean?”
He looks up at the ceiling and considers. “The dietician said to limit potassium and phosphorus. And sodium. No canned or preserved foods. Fresh is best.”
What he needs is exactly what we have none of down here. His health is deteriorating before my eyes. Suddenly my claustrophobia is forgotten.
“Okay,” I say. “So our options are limited, but we need to find things you can have. I bet there’s a lot in that room.”
“The thing is…I’m not even hungry. That’s one of the signs that…things aren’t going good. And I’m so thirsty, I could just…” He looks away.
“What about ice chips?” I suggest.
“Yeah, that might work.”
“And look—” I reach over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to be hungry to eat. We need to get something in you, to keep your strength up. Even if it’s small.”
He nods. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good.”
I stand up, and he follows suit. I see Derek looking at us out of the corner of his eye as we walk to the storage room. He pauses in his train of thought about football for a second but then picks it right back up.
Matias is right. There’s no reason to tell the others about his condition—yet. But now I know why he looked so forlorn as he stared down at his swollen hands. More so than any of the rest of us, he needs to get out of here, and soon.
Chapter Six
Derek
The concrete walls don’t provide much of a view as I circle around the track for the twelfth time. I’m supposed to be at training camp right now, out in the sun and surrounded by the buzz of excitement that always comes with a new season.
There was the added excitement of me breaking the NFL’s consecutive games played record with our season opener. I didn’t think anything could keep me from setting that record.
My father raised me on his own, and one of the things he drilled into me was not to dwell on things I can’t affect. Control the controllables. Let the rest go. I took care of myself in the off-season, like I always do. I follow the same diet year-round, I don’t drink, I get enough sleep. I did all the workouts my trainers assigned me. I never bitched.
I did my part. And now I’m trapped in a fucking hole in the ground that I paid other people to dig. The irony makes me shake my head.
One week in, and there’s still a lot I don’t know. The more time that passes, the less I care how the hell we got down here. I just want out.
I know I’d pay a shocking amount of money for a fucking pillow and blanket. We’ve been covering up with bath towels at night, and they leave a lot to be desired. And I know the food down here isn’t ideal. I’ve mostly been eating jerky and beans, both of which have preservatives.
I’m not getting the fresh food I need to stay in top form, and I’m not getting my usual weight training. My team is in camp now. Where do they think I am?
I blow out a breath, reminding myself not to wonder about questions I can’t answer from down here. It just drives me crazy.
Instead, I drop down to the track and knock out some push-ups. I’m doing a plank hold, trying to find a zen spot in my mind, when a pair of high heels enters my field of vision.
“Hey you,” Kenna croons. “Want me to make you some lunch?”
I look up at her. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Well, what can I do for you?”
“Got a stick of dynamite I can blow that door open with?”
She laughs. “Sorry, no. All I can do is try to help the time pass easier while we’re stuck down here.”
I push myself up to a standing position. Kenna is looking me up and down, her eyes bright with appreciation for what she sees.
Does she have a boyfriend? I’ve never asked. I hope something will keep her from trying to hook up with me down here,
because things will get awkward quick like if she does.
“What’s everyone doing?” I ask, diverting her attention.
She shrugs. “Erin and Matias are playing a game. Bryce is watching TV.”
I nod. I want to strip off my sweaty T-shirt, but I’d better not do it out here.
“Look, Kenna,” I say. “You don’t need to do anything for me. I don’t consider you my assistant down here. We’re just five equals, trying to get through a crazy situation.”
She nods, then meets my gaze and bites her lip.
Fuck—the lip bite. That’s the universal, unmistakable code for fuck me. And I’m not remotely interested.
“I know,” she says softly. “And if you think of anything that might help us…get through…I’m game.”
“I need some water,” I say, heading for the door back into the bunker.
It’s a relief to walk through the door and hear Erin and Matias laughing. I don’t want to be alone with Kenna. She picked a shitty time to start hitting on me. Not that I would’ve been interested before—I don’t sleep with women I know well—but being trapped underground with a scorned woman sounds like a special kind of torture.
I glance over at the chessboard as I pass the dining table to get to the refrigerator.
“She’s about to cornhole you with that rook,” I tell Matias.
Erin lowers her brows and glares at me. “Mind your own business, Derek.”
I grin at her, then look at Matias. “I’m right.”
“You stink. Go take a shower.” Erin wrinkles her nose at me.
“Move your queen,” I tell Matias.
“Hey,” Erin says indignantly. “Who am I playing here?”
Someone’s got a competitive streak. Even against Matias, who doesn’t seem to be feeling well, Erin’s got her eye on the prize. That surprises and intrigues me at the same time.
“Easy, tiger,” I say. “Game’s already over, and you know it. But I’ll play you after you beat him.”
“Who says she’s gonna win?” Matias protests.
“She’s gonna win.” I pull my sweaty T-shirt up and over my head. “Is anyone here gonna be offended if I wear a towel while I wash my clothes?”
Bryce waves a hand from the couch, not looking away from the TV. “Have at it, man.”
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