Dad used to tell me stories about the outside. Most of them were cautionary tales—designed to scare me into fearing the world beyond the Bunker doors. Stories about R-Zombs, and air so poisonous, it could make your lungs disintegrate in under a minute.
But there was one story I did actually like. It goes something like this: when Dad was a kid, his parents always told him not to look at the sun, or else he’d go blind. But on the last day that he was ever outside, right before he ran into the Bunker with Mom and closed the door behind him, he looked up into the sky, and stared at the sun until it made his eyes water because he knew that it would be a long time before he’d ever see it again.
Dad says that the feeling of the sun on his skin is the one thing he misses the most about being outside.
As I wait for Lavish besides the Bunker’s main gates, I try to imagine what it will be like to feel the sun touch my arms.
By the time Lavish arrives, it’s already seven in the morning. He’s carrying a backpack almost as big as he is.
“Sorry I’m late,” Lavish apologizes breezily, setting the bag down at his feet. He unlatches two buttons at the top, and begins pulling out equipment. Gas masks, two BB guns, and pieces of riot gear. “I only have one set, but you can take the arm pads and chest plate, and I’ll take the kneepads and the shield,” he explains.
I start to clip on the heavy pieces of oversized gear. We both put on our gasmasks last. They’re strange to breathe in, but not uncomfortable.
“What if we see an R-Zomb?” I ask, feeling my stomach flip at the thought of facing a Ruthless.
“That’s what the guns are for,” Lavish says.
“Do you really think we’d be able to take an R-Zomb?” I ask.
Lavish rolls his eyes. “Rekill, we’re not babies anymore. And besides, there are two of us. What, are you scared?”
I frown. “I’m not scared.”
“Then quit worrying. It’s not even like we’re going to be out there for long.”
For better or for worse, I trust Lavish more than I fear the Ruthless. And so, when he says that it will be okay, I decide to believe him.
The Bunker’s main gate is actually triple-walled, and each gate has to be opened and shut manually, one at a time. They’re operated with three levers on the adjacent wall. Lavish and I have both been told about one million times never to touch them.
And yet, here we are.
Lavish pulls down the first lever, and with a loud groan, the first door opens. I feel my heartbeat quicken as I unlatch the safety mechanism on my BB gun. The second lever goes down.
And then there is only one metal gate standing between us and the outside world.
“Ready?” Lavish asks.
My mouth feels too dry to speak. I nod.
Lavish pulls down the third and final lever, and the last set of gates part for us like the Red Sea.
The light from outside isn’t nearly as blinding as I assumed it would be. The sun is not harsh and cold like the Bunker’s fluorescents. It’s soft and hazy, and as it is just beginning its arc across the morning sky, it has an orangish hue to it.
Lavish and I both tender our ways outside, fascinated by how the dirt crunches beneath our shoes, and by the way that we can feel the light on our faces through the masks as the sun washes over us.
“This isn’t so bad,” Lavish says. “What were you even scared of?”
“It’s amazing,” I agree.
We begin to travel outward, examining the terrain. From out here, we can see that the Bunker was built pretty squarely into the side of a huge sandstone cliff. There aren’t any plants or trees nearby—though the burbling noise of a fast-paced stream just over the ridge catches our attention.
“Come on, Rekill!” Lavish says, racing over the ridge. “You’ve got to see this!”
I follow him—fingers still wrapped around the trigger of my toy gun. I feel like an astronaut exploring a strange new planet as I hop over the ridge and slide down next to Lavish and the stream.
“Oh, look!” Lavish shouts, pointing a finger at a small group of swimming black creatures. “I think those are fish.
“They’re tadpoles,” I correct him. I pick one up and examine it. We don’t have any animals in the Bunker that are considered to be unnecessary. They’d waste too much space and resources. I’ve never seen an animal outside of our livestock before.
“Do you think we can take one back? As a pet or something?” Lavish asks excitedly.
“No. If either of our parents’ see that we have it, they’ll know for sure that we left the bunker. And then we’ll be dead meat.”
He deflates. “You’re right.”
A chill crawls up my spine as I return the tadpole to the water. I don’t know how—but I sense something nearby. Something dangerous.
“We should get back into the Bunker,” I say.
“What? But we just got out here,” Lavish frowns. “Why would we go back now?”
“Lavish, please-,”
I grab his arm and attempt to yank him back up the ridge. He pulls back.
“No. I’m not stopping just because you’re a little scared, Rekill. I mean, it took us thirteen whole years to see this. And who knows when we’ll have the chance to see it again? I want to stay. Just for a few more minutes. Please?”
Before I can respond, the chill courses through my body again. I hold my BB gun in the air, aiming it around wildly. “Who’s there?” I demand.
Lavish grabs my shoulder. “Rekill, what are you-,”
Lavish is cut off by a guttural scream—so horrible and full of agony that it can only be from the throat of one creature. I turn my head to the noise, and that’s when I see it: not more than twenty yards in the distance stands the gigantic and grotesque form of a Ruthless Zombie.
I grip Lavish’s arm. My voice comes out as a whisper.
“Run.”
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