Apocalypse

anyone. I just…froze. She ducked away, and is probably far from 108 by now.”

My father frowned. Instead of being angry, he looked contemplative – like he had received a new piece of the puzzle.

“Hmm. Maybe she did do it. Well, whatever happened, we have no control over it now. She is gone, and even if you had told, she would be dead. Neither would have been of use to me.”

“You won’t tell, right?”

My father smiled. “Alex, of course not. I’m your father. I’m on your side, no matter what. You did the right thing.”

Even with his approval, I wasn’t sure. I sighed. “I hope so.”

At that moment, Chief Security Officer Chan entered the medical bay. He was the absolute last person I wanted to see. He was short, of Chinese descent, and had cropped, gray hair. His face was placid, betraying no emotion. I knew he often practiced meditation, as well as martial arts. He inspired as much fear as he did respect. Every part of his body was hard lines and angles, without a trace of fat.

He wasted no time in addressing me.

“I need to speak with your father alone, Alex,” he said.

“Yes, Officer Chan.”

I glanced at my father. He nodded, urging me to follow Chan’s direction.

I walked out of the bay and into the corridor, feeling Chan’s gaze douse me like ice water. Of course, Chan would be interested in the man’s progress. He would not miss this for anything. As Chief Security Officer of Bunker 108, it was his job not to miss things.

The man had clearly been heading here. But why? What message did he carry from 114, and why was Chan so interested in it?

In the Old World, Chan was an intelligence officer. When he entered Bunker 108, he was in his early thirties. Now in his sixties, he was one of the few old ones left. As the higher-ups died or were relocated, Chan slowly took firmer hold on the operations here. He has been in charge almost my whole life, so I don’t remember a time where he wasn’t. Though strict – maybe even draconian – there was no question: Chan has kept us safe all these years, and he is the main reason why we are one of four Bunkers left, when one hundred and forty four started out.

I walked down the corridor. The hallway was empty right now; most people would be in the commons, the archive, or home in their apartments. I walked past the Caf, where the kitchen staff was wiping down tables.

As I rounded the corner, I could see at the end of the hall two wooden, double doors with stained glass windows. I headed there, trying to suppress my worry for my father.

I knew he probably wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, either.

Chapter 5

I walked into the chapel. It was dark; the only lighting was from the hallway, and the air was thick and musty. Ten rows of pews lined the red-carpeted center aisle, which led to a low stage and the communion rail. Being in this small sanctuary with the old familiar smell of wood and books made me think of younger days.

Khloe was already sitting in one of the back right pews. She was tapping her foot and leafing through a hymnal.

She looked up as I approached.

“There you are,” she said. “I was beginning to worry you’d stand me up.”

“You? Never.”

“Sit down.”

I took my place beside her. She put the hymnal up.

“It’s so dark in here,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “No one really comes here anymore.”

This place was once a center for the Bunker. Then Father Nielson died. Every Sunday, he preached. Almost everyone would gather to hear his words. My dad was one of the few who didn’t. He never put much stock in religion, and I guess he rubbed off on me a bit, all the more so as I’ve grown older.

Those had been different times. Then, Father Nielsen got cancer. Even my dad couldn’t save him from that.

With Father Nielson’s death came the death of the church, slowly. Some tried to take his place, but no one spoke with his conviction.

Father Nielson had been dead two years, and it showed. Dust coated the hymnals in the pews. Cobwebs stretched from ceiling to floor in the dark corners, hanging from the hanging Christ on his cross. I tried not to notice how defeated He looked.

I was the one to break the silence.

“I saw someone, out there.”

Khloe stared at me blankly. “You mean someone other than the guy you found?”

I nodded. “Yeah. A woman was watching from behind a rock. She ducked away fast, but I’m sure I saw her. I was the only one to notice. I even drew a picture of her.”

“Can I see it?”

I shook my head. “I tore it up.”

Khloe sighed. “So, that’s what’s been bothering you?”

“You say it like it’s not a big deal.”

“No, it is.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to Michael about it.”

I trailed off. My words died on the dark walls. I waited for Khloe to say something.

“I just wonder who she was,” she said.

“I think it’s possible she killed the man. I mean, she was in the same area.”

“Maybe. She could have also been a friend. A family member. A lover. Who knows?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just a feeling I have.”

“So, why didn’t you say anything?”

Nothing in her tone was accusatory. But still, I felt defensive.

“I don’t know. She was young, maybe a little older than us. But she wasn’t one of us. She was a Wastelander for sure.”

Khloe was quiet. It made me nervous since she was always chatty.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “I know you won’t, but I just want to be sure. Something bad could happen if anyone found out.”

“Does your dad know?”

“I told him after dinner. He didn’t have the chance to give me advice because Chan walked in.”

Khloe winced. “He didn’t hear anything, did he?”

“I’m sure he didn’t. If he did, I would be talking to him now instead of you.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I can’t tell anyone. I can’t.” I shook my head. “Maybe she killed him. But something tells me there’s more to it than that. And…I didn’t want her to die. If I had said something, Michael would have been forced to do something about it.” I shrugged. “Maybe he noticed, too, but didn’t say anything, either.”

“Maybe,” Khloe said. “Who knows how many Wastelanders have slipped through the cracks that way? I know we’re taught they’re dangerous, but they’re people, just like us, right? The point is, you shouldn’t feel bad. Something inside you told you to stay quiet. As far as you know, that’s the right choice. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Then again, maybe not. The woman was a Wastelander, and all Wastelanders have the capacity for violence. Who was to say she wouldn’t lead anyone else here?

Would I be the reason for the fall of Bunker 108?