Chapter 1
Water dripped from a rusty pipe in the dimly lit bunker, each drop echoing in the stale air. Von lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling. In the underground shelter, time had lost its meaning; days and nights bled together.
The small concrete room was bare and cold, the air carrying the faint scent of damp stone and old fabric. Four bunks lined the walls—two sets of metal frames bolted into the concrete, each with thin mattresses and worn blankets. Von slept on the top bunk of one set, and the others in the room were still snoring softly beneath him.
Careful not to wake them, Von swung his legs over the edge and climbed down. Now eighteen, he stood about five-foot-nine, with a skinny frame and just enough muscle to show the work he’d put in over the years. His dark brown hair hung longer than it should, brushing into his eyes, in need of a cut. A decently fair-looking guy , he was well-liked, and more than a little popular among the girls his age living in the bunker. Today, like every day, he woke in Block E.
Von grabbed his worn shirt from the end of his bed and slipped it over his head, tugging on a pair of faded pants and rundown sneakers. After quietly stepping out into the dim hallway, he made his way toward the restroom.
The restroom was split down the center like an old locker room. On the left side, rows of dented metal lockers lined the middle wall, with a larger communal shower running along the far-left side—several shower heads sputtering fitfully behind thin, patched curtains. Steam often lingered here, clinging to the cracked tile and carrying the sharp mix of soap and rust through the air.
On the right side, a long, trough-style sink stretched across the center wall, divided into six basins where people crowded in to wash at the same time. Beyond that, tucked against the far-right wall, were the bathroom stalls—narrow, dented doors that creaked with age, their concrete partitions etched with faded graffiti, tally marks, and names from residents long gone.
It wasn’t just a place for necessity; it was one of the few spaces that buzzed with life. Children splashed water at each other, workers compared stories while rinsing grime from their hands, and mothers helped the little ones scrub clean. For all its flaws, the restroom was less a sterile facility and more a shared corner of community inside the bunker.
After relieving himself, Von stepped to the long sink along the center wall, splashing a handful of cold water across his face. The chill stung his skin, the closest thing most residents got to a “morning shower.” Shaking off the droplets, he turned toward the row of dented lockers that divided the room. His assigned locker was halfway down, the door squealing on its hinges as he tugged it open.
Inside, tucked neatly on the shelf, was an old stuffed bunny. Its once-soft brown fabric had long since faded, patched over the years wherever time had worn it thin. A square patch covered the upper left ear, another the lower right ear, and both legs bore crude stitches where holes had been mended. One of its eyes had been replaced with a mismatched black button, giving it a lopsided, endearing look. Von lifted it carefully, cradling the fragile toy for a moment before tucking it under his arm.
Von’s footsteps echoed as he headed toward the infirmary. He passed a corridor that connected to another pathway, and out of the corner of his eye he caught the glimpse of someone stepping out from the adjoining hall.
It was Stella Morgan, a sixteen-year-old girl who was typically overly chipper in the mornings—unlike Von, who most definitely wasn’t a morning person. Her fiery red hair and sharp green eyes made her stand out among the survivors living within the bunker. Cheerful and kind by nature, she was also the younger sister of Commander John Morgan, the man who led the remaining military forces that still held the bunker together.
“Morning, Von!” she said in a cheerful voice as she fell into step beside him.
“Morning, Stella,” Von replied.
“On your way to see May?” she asked, her expression softening as her gaze flicked to the stuffed bunny under his arm. “Feels like she’s been in and out of the infirmary a lot lately.”
Von hesitated, a flicker of worry crossing his face before he forced a reassuring smile. “The doc says she’s fine. She just wants to keep May under observation a little longer—a few last tests. Nothing to worry about.”
“That makes sense better to be safe and certain, she’ll be back out causing trouble in no time!”
“There you are, Stella!”
The voice carried sharply down the hall. Eric Carter jogged up from the far end, his gaze landing briefly on Von before settling on Stella with an intensity that made Von feel oddly like an intruder.
Eric was around Von’s age, with dark blond hair kept short and a self-assured swagger that never seemed to leave him. The son of one of the bunker’s councilmen, he carried himself with a confidence that rubbed Von the wrong way.
“I was looking for you,” Eric said, almost ignoring Von entirely. “When I came by your quarters, you weren’t there.”
“I know,” Stella replied easily. “I was actually on my way to say hi to Von.”
Eric’s jaw tightened for just a second before he forced a smile. “Right… well, don’t let him keep you from anything important.” He stepped closer, placing himself just slightly between them before adding, “You and I need to talk later.”
Stella rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Later, Eric.”
As Eric finally moved on, Von caught the faintest glance from him over the shoulder—a silent, measuring look—that told him Eric wasn’t just being a protective friend.
Eric disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the distant hum of the bunker. Von shifted, then said quietly, “You know… if he ever gets to be too much, just let me know. Or I guess you could always tell your brother.”
Stella turned back toward him with a small smile. “Oh, he’s harmless. Besides, I’ve known him since kindergarten—and knowing my brother, he’d just overreact.”
Her eyes dropped to Von’s hand, brow lifting. “Hey… what’s that you’re carrying?”
Von hesitated, then held up the stuffed bunny so she could see. Stella’s expression softened, and she asked, “So, where’d you get this?”
“A lady in Block F,” Von said with a small shrug. “Thought May could use something to hold onto.”
Stella nodded, her smile warming. “She’s going to love it.”
They continued down the hall until they reached the infirmary. Stella stepped back with a grin.
“I’ll leave you here. See you in a bit—say hi to May for me.”
“Sounds good,” Von replied.
She flashed a smile and jogged away.
Von then turned toward the infirmary door and gave a light knock.
“It’s open,” a voice called from the other side.
Von stepped inside, greeted by the modest size of the bunker’s infirmary. Just to the left of the entrance stood an examination table, while to the right sat a desk cluttered with medical charts, handwritten notes, and salvaged medical tools. Behind it sat the bunker’s only medical professional.
She had long black hair tied into a ponytail, a white lab coat draped over a standard nurse’s blue uniform; before the fall, she had been a nurse, not a doctor. The bunker’s resident doctor had died few years ago during a raid; in fact, it was the last time anyone had gone topside. That had been nearly three years ago.
Von stepped closer, holding up the stuffed bunny in his hand. “How is she today?”
The nurse leaned back in her chair, sighing. “Physically, she’s stable. But…” She hesitated, glancing toward the curtained-off bed in the corner. “Von, I’m not completely sure, but she might be showing early signs of kidney failure.”
Von’s grip on the bunny tightened. “Kidney failure? You’re not sure?”
“That’s just it… I can’t be sure,” the nurse admitted, her voice low. “If the world were still… the way it was, I’d have the equipment to confirm it. Maybe even start treatment. But here…” She gestured helplessly at the cracked walls and mismatched supplies. “We make do with what we have. Without proper machines, all I can do is speculate—and try to keep her comfortable.”
Von swallowed hard, the air in the room suddenly feeling colder. “What happens if it gets worse?”
Her gaze dropped for a moment before she met his eyes again. “Then we’re in trouble.”
The unspoken truth hung between them. To get what May might need… Von followed her gaze, the sight of the small, motionless shape behind the curtain twisting something deep in his chest. He nodded slowly, though the weight of her words lingered. Even without saying it outright, both of them understood the truth—if May’s condition worsened, the only hope would be to go topside. And no one had survived doing that in years.
He crossed the room and gently pulled the curtain aside. May lay there, still sleeping, her breathing soft and steady.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled faintly. “Oh… good morning, Brother.”
“Morning, May,” he said softly.
She slowly pushed herself upright, careful and deliberate in her movements. Von sat down at her side, and only then did she notice the stuffed bunny in his hand.
“Who’s that for?” she asked.
Von smiled. “What, this? It’s for you, silly.”
May’s face lit up with excitement as he handed it to her. She hugged it close, her smile softening.
“It’s old… but cute,” she said as she traced its button eyes with her finger, then quieted.
“Well, you got a name for it?” Von asked, trying to keep the moment going.
May respondent with a grin, then said, “him. I think I’ll call him Mister Floppers.”
Von let out a sharp chuckle but stammered it quickly. “Well, that certainly fits…”
“I don’t remember much… but I do remember the day Mom gave me a bunny. I can barely remember what she looked like, you know.”
Von’s expression warmed. “I know. That’s why Von thought you should have this one.”
May held it tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks, bro. This means a lot.”
As she shifted, a book slipped from beneath her blanket and landed on the floor with a dull thud. Von glanced down.
“What’s this?” he asked, bending over to pick it up. Flipping the book over, he read aloud, “Best Sights to See in the U.S.”
He looked over at his sister with a gentle tease. “Planning a trip?”
May giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe… someday.” She said hugging the bunny tightly, her smile warm but a little too perfect.
Von set the book back on her nightstand, noticing it wasn’t alone—several others with bright covers and glossy pictures of beaches, mountains, and cities were stacked neatly beside it. Travel books. All well-worn.
He didn’t say anything, but he understood. These books were her windows to a world she might never see. Dreams bound in paper and ink. For now, he’d let her keep them.
As his hand lingered on the top book, May tilted her head. “Have you ever been to any of those places?”
Von paused, eyes tracing the cover. “A few… before.”
“What were they like?” she asked quietly.
He smiled faintly, though there was a sadness in it. “Big… Bright… Loud. You’d have loved them.”
May’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall. “I… think I remember a beach once. There were seagulls… and the water was cold.”
Von’s smile softened as he sat beside May “Yeah… that sounds about right.” He didn’t tell her how much the world had changed—how those places no longer looked anything like the pictures in her books. Instead, he sat beside her, letting her keep the version of the world she still carried in her mind.
Suddenly, the sharp crackle of the loudspeaker echoed through the bunker, cutting through the quiet like a knife.
“Good morning, residents. Another day of bunker life begins. Please remember to keep your spirits high and report to the main hall for your daily assignments. Proceed promptly and maintain order.”
He ruffled his hand through his hair. “Guess it’s time.”
May giggled. “Wow, Brother… you need a haircut.”
“You think so? Nah, all the ladies like it.”
“Oh yeah? By ‘ladies’ you mean Stella?” she asked with a mischievous smirk.
Von felt his ears heat up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She grinned knowingly, and he reached out to pat her head. “Well, I need to get going—so you be good, okay?”
“Always,” she said, hugging the bunny tighter.
Exiting the infirmary, Von stepped into the corridor, the faint hum of the bunker’s ventilation filling the air. As he turned the corner, he nearly collided with Commander John. Mid-thirties, tall—about six feet—with the kind of fit build that came from years of military discipline, John carried himself with the quiet authority of someone who’d been forced into leadership too soon. He had only taken command after the raid a few years back, when the general was killed. His crisp white shirt was tucked neatly into military-issued pants and boots, his sidearm always at his hip, and the ever-present cap squared on his head. Stella’s older brother, he bore the same sharp features and steady eyes as her, though his expression was far more guarded.
“Morning, Commander,” Von said, offering a nod.
“Von,” John said evenly, his voice carrying the steady weight of authority as he passed by, boots echoing against the concrete floor.
They exchanged a brief, respectful glance before Von continued down the hall toward the main meeting area. As Von continued toward the main hall, he glanced back and saw the Commander step into the infirmary.
Von arrived at the main hall just as the last few stragglers were filing in. The wide space buzzed with conversation, the air heavy with the mingled scent of recycled air and warm rations. This hall served as the bunker’s central hub—a massive corridor where all the blocks connected. The bunker itself was divided into 246 blocks, labeled alphabetically from A to Z, each with its own sub-sections, like Block A–Section 2. The residential areas filled Blocks E through M, while Blocks A through D were strictly military zones with restricted access. Block E, Von’s home, also housed the infirmary.
As for the main hall, at its height the ceiling soared 150 feet, supported by eighteen massive pillars. Ramparts lined the walls, connecting the sublevels to each block section, allowing movement above the bustling floor. At the very center of the ceiling sat the observation deck; a place that used to be occupied solely by the military but was now home to the governing body of the bunker. This small group consisted of the military commander and a council of elders who oversaw the daily lives and functions of the bunker.
Originally, this fallout shelter had been under full military control during the earliest, most chaotic days of the fall. But at some point, it was decided that governing should be shared between the civilian population and the military.
Von stood there, waiting for his assignment…
All of that had happened before Von and May ever came to live here. Von often found it hard to believe it had only been five years since the Z-virus broke out… and just a little over three years since May and he had been found. They had taken the siblings in without hesitation, and Von was certain they wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
A small tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to find Stella coming up beside him.
As she slipped into place, a voice from the front began calling out names and assignments, the familiar daily rhythm settling over the crowd. Clipboards shuffled, and orders barked in steady succession.
A few minutes passed, clipboards shuffled, and orders barked in steady succession.
“Von—duct inspections and repairs,” the officer in charge called.
Von suppressed a sigh. Another day crawling through narrow metal shafts, tightening bolts, and patching leaks. Still, the ductwork was the bunker’s lifeline, and someone had to keep it breathing.
Stella giggled. “Man, I don’t envy you,” she teased as Von’s assignment was called.
A moment later, her own name came up—kitchen duty. She sighed. “Should’ve guessed.”
From behind her, a couple of the other girls—already dressed in grease-stained aprons and smudged sleeves—traded looks. One muttered just loud enough to be heard, “Must be nice, being the commander’s sister.”
Stella’s smile faltered for a split second, but she didn’t turn around. She just squared her shoulders and faced forward, pretending she hadn’t heard.
Von shot a quick, protective glance over his shoulder, his jaw tightening. He said nothing, but the message was clear—he was watching out for her.
With that, he turned and headed to start on the ductwork, leaving the murmurs behind.
Time passed as Von moved through the maintenance tunnels, methodically inspecting the ventilation shafts. As he searched for anything needing repair, he overheard what sounded like Stella’s and Eric’s voices nearby. Realizing he was close to the main food storehouse, he moved closer and peeked around the corner from the catwalk above.
He glanced down and spotted Stella by the storage area, flipping through a worn paperback while Eric leaned casually against the wall beside her. Von couldn’t hear every word, but Eric’s body language spoke volumes—leaning just a little too close, his arm braced over her head in a way that boxed her in.
“Come on,” Eric’s voice carried faintly, teasing but with an edge. “You said you’d help me sort those rations later.”
“I said maybe,” Stella replied, sidestepping him. “I’m busy right now.”
Eric’s gaze flicked upward, and for a second, Von was sure their eyes met. The look wasn’t openly hostile, but it was loaded—like a quiet challenge.
Von returned to his work, wrench tightening against metal, but he could still hear Eric chuckle low and smooth, muttering something to Stella that made her roll her eyes.
When Von looked again, Eric had shifted closer, his shoulder brushing hers. Stella didn’t seem frightened, but she definitely seemed cornered.
Von gritted his teeth and focused on the vent, reminding himself it wasn’t his business. Still… he couldn’t shake the sour taste the scene left in his mouth. He knew Stella would get mad if he just jumped in, so he went on with his work.
The loudspeaker crackled as the notice for lunch was announced. Is it really that late? Von thought—it was hard to keep track of time here in the bunker. He finished up some patchwork on a vent before heading toward the main hall to join everyone for lunch.
Von dropped into his seat with a sigh.
“Ugh… man,” he muttered in exasperation.
“What’s wrong?” Stella asked as she sat down across from him.
Her eyes drifted to his right hand, wrapped neatly in a bandage. “Whoa—that’s a nasty cut.”
Von glanced at it and shrugged. “Oh, this? I cut my hand crawling through the ducts. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Von, you need to have that looked at. You don’t want it getting infected,” she said, her tone firm.
“Okay, okay,” Von said with a small grin, raising his free hand in surrender. “I’ll get it checked out—once I’m done for the day and stop by to see May, I’ll have the doc take a look.”
“Good,” Stella said, easing back in her seat. “Oh, how is she doing, by the way? I hope she’s feeling better. I think I overheard my brother talking about her the other day with someone… but I didn’t catch any details, just heard her name come up.”
Von’s brows knit. “Wait, why would your brother be talking about May?”
Stella hesitated for a beat before answering. “Oh… he was probably just worried about her. Von was sure that’s it.”
Before Von could respond, a familiar voice cut in.
“Oh, look. I should’ve known you two would be having lunch together again,” Eric said as he stepped up to the table, his tone carrying the faintest edge of jealousy.
Von’s jaw tightened, but he forced a casual smile. “Yeah, well, so what’s it to you, Eric?”
Eric’s smirk widened, eyes glinting with something like challenge. “Just saying, you’re always hanging around Stella. Don’t think she doesn’t notice.”
Stella rolled her eyes, clearly used to this back-and-forth. “Eric, can you give it a rest? We’re trying to eat.”
Von shifted in his seat, muscles tense but voice steady. He glanced up at Eric. “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is. That’s what friends do. Am I wrong?”
Eric leaned in, lowering his voice. “Friends…” The single word dripped with disbelief.
The table fell into an uncomfortable silence, the buzz of other conversations suddenly distant.
Man, what is with him? He’s been like this since the day Stella’s brother brought Von and May here. Always hovering, always trying to stake his claim. It’s obvious he likes her, but it’s pathetic how blind he is. She’s never given him the time of day, yet he keeps pushing—like he can’t take a hint. Honestly, it’s exhausting. I’m just trying to keep May safe, and this guy won’t back off.
Eric smirked again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Funny how you’re always ‘checking on May,’ but hardly seem to care. Maybe you’re just a terrible brother—too busy flirting with girls to bother with your little sister.”
Von’s eyes snapped wide. The words cut deeper than he expected. Anger surged, sharp and hot. Before he could think, his fist shot forward, cracking across Eric’s jaw.
Eric staggered back, clutching his face, a mix of shock and indignation flashing across his features. His bravado faltered, replaced by a note of desperation as his voice shook.
“You’ve done it now, Von,” he spat. “My father’s on the governing board. He won’t let this stand.”
Before Eric could say more, a calm, authoritative voice cut through the tension.
“What’s going on here? Oh, I should’ve known,” came TJ’s smooth drawl as he stepped into view.
TJ, a tall man with a dark complexion, reflecting his African heritage, walked over with an easy confidence. Standing about six feet tall, he had that chill but commanding presence that made it clear he was the one keeping peace. His eyes flicked between Von and Eric, clearly familiar with their history.
“What’s the problem this time, Eric?” TJ asked, a teasing edge in his voice.
Eric flushed but said nothing.
TJ turned to Von with a nod. “You good, Von?”
Von gave a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
TJ shook his head, half amused. “Alright, boys. Let’s keep the drama out of the lunchroom, yeah? We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
Eric scowled but wisely kept quiet as TJ’s presence diffused the tension effortlessly.
TJ glanced toward Von, his tone shifting to something more serious.
“Hey, Von, I need you to come with me. The commander wants to see you.”
“Me? What for?” Von asked, surprise tightening his voice.
Eric smirked, unable to resist. “Oh, it’s about time they kicked you out!”
TJ shot Eric a sharp glare before breaking into a smile. “You know, you should eat something while you can. You’ve got a whole day’s worth of work ahead—since now you have to finish your tasks and the rest of Von’s, too.”
Turning back to Von, TJ gave a reassuring nod. “It’s about your sister.”
“About May? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Von’s heart quickened.
“Hey, calm down, kid. She’s fine, okay? Let’s just go.”
Eric’s smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl.
“My father will hear about this,” he snapped, voice rising with frustration.
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor, his footsteps echoing sharply against the bunker walls.
Von watched him go, a mix of relief and unease settling in his chest as he turned back to TJ. Von swallowed hard but nodded, following TJ as the weight of the moment settled in. Von fell into step beside TJ, his mind racing.
The hum of the bunker’s ventilation system filled the silence, broken only by the distant clatter of tools and voices from the mess hall behind them.
TJ shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t let Eric get under your skin. Kid’s been looking for ways to rile you up since the day you got here.”
Von exhaled sharply. “Yeah, well… he’s good at it.”
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” TJ said with a faint smirk. “Half the time, guys like him push because they think you’ll break. The other half is just jealousy.”
Von shook his head. “Jealous of what? I’ve got nothing.”
“You’ve got respect,” TJ replied simply. “And not from the wrong people, either. Trust me, in here, that matters.”
“Respect, huh? Not sure what I did to earn it,” Von muttered.
They stopped in front of a security door marked Restricted Access. TJ looked back at him, his expression firm but not unkind.
“People respect you because you do what needs to be done,” TJ said. “Don’t forget—you kept your little sister alive for over a year before we found you two. Not many here can say that. Especially not Eric. Most people here didn’t have to go through what you did, let alone survive it. That’s why people respect you. You’re not some spoiled brat who got an easy ride.”
He swiped his key card and the door unlocked with a heavy click. The two stepped through, leaving the noise of the bunker behind.
They passed into Block C, where the hum of activity shifted to a quieter, more orderly atmosphere. Section signs hung from the ceiling, crisp black lettering guiding the way. As they walked deeper into Section 2, the corridors narrowed, the lighting dimming, giving the place a more official, almost oppressive feel.
“This whole area’s where the big decisions get made,” TJ said casually. “Command offices, strategy rooms… the works.”
At the end of the hall stood the commander’s office—reinforced steel, the bunker’s insignia painted across it in bold white. Two armed guards flanked the door, their expressions unreadable.
TJ stepped forward and knocked firmly.
“What is it?” the commander’s voice echoed from the other side, steady and commanding.
“It’s TJ, sir,” he replied. “I’ve brought Von as you requested.”
A brief pause, then the response came: “Enter.”
TJ swiped his card, pushing the heavy door open. He gave Von a subtle nod before the two stepped inside the commander’s office.
The commander’s office lay in Block C, Section 2—a restricted wing of the bunker lined with reinforced steel doors and dim overhead lights that hummed faintly. The walk there felt longer than it should have, every step echoing in Von’s ears.
When TJ pushed the door open, Commander John sat behind a wide metal desk, a single framed photo of the original bunker construction crew standing out in the otherwise bare, utilitarian space. His crisp white shirt was tucked into military-issued pants and boots, the brim of his cap casting a shadow over sharp eyes that so closely mirrored Stella’s.
“Von,” John said, motioning to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
Von obeyed, his jaw tightening. The nurse’s words from earlier echoed in his head—she might be showing early signs of kidney failure… all I can do is keep her comfortable.
TJ took his usual position by the door, arms folded.
John leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Von, I called you here to talk about your sister, May—”
Von lurched forward, fear flashing across his face. “May… is she—?”
The commander raised a hand, steady and firm, cutting him off. “She’s fine.” His tone was calm, meant to steady the air between them.
Von exhaled slowly, but the commander’s guarded tone kept him from feeling any real relief.
“However,” John continued, “I’ve been apprised of her condition. While she may be stable for now, there’s a real chance things could take a turn for the worse. We’re forced to consider the long-term safety of the bunker. With our current supply situation—”
Von’s grip tightened on the chair. “But the doctor said she isn’t even sure—”
“I’m aware of what she told you,” John cut in, his voice firm. “But without dialysis machines, without functioning lab equipment… if her suspicions are correct, then there’s no path to recovery.”
Von’s hands curled into fists. “I know. So… we just wait? Hope she pulls through?”
John’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. Von, unfortunately we don’t have the supplies to keep caring for someone who might not make it. We have to consider the greater good of the community over the individual—”
Von cut him off, fear and anger tangled in his voice. “What are you getting at, Commander?”
John exhaled, his expression hardening. “This… is the hardest part of my position, Von. But this morning, the council reviewed her case. They’ve decided that, in the best interest of the bunker—and to prevent unnecessary suffering—she will be…” His pause was brief but heavy. “…euthanized. Tomorrow morning.”
For a moment, Von didn’t process the words. They just… hung there, like a cruel echo.
“…What?” His voice was barely audible.
John repeated it, the calmness in his voice making it sound almost procedural.
Shock slammed into Von like a physical blow, but it didn’t stay long—it burned away into raw fury. He shot to his feet, the chair legs screeching against the floor.
“She’s my sister,” he spat, voice trembling. “And you’re talking about her like she’s some sick animal you just… put down!”
“Von—” TJ started, but John raised a hand without breaking eye contact.
“I know this is difficult to accept—”
“No, you don’t,” Von cut in, stepping forward. “You don’t care about her, or me, or anyone that doesn’t fit into your damn resource charts! You just want her gone so you can tick a box and feel like you ‘did the right thing’!”
John’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained level. “Think what you want. The decision stands.”
Von’s breathing came fast now, his heart hammering in his chest, the weight of tomorrow morning sinking like lead into his stomach.
TJ shifted slightly at the door, his usually easygoing expression gone. “Von… don’t do anything stupid,” he said quietly.
Von’s fists clenched tighter. “Stupid? You’re talking about killing her because it’s easier than trying to save her.”
He turned to John, voice sharp. “If we just went topside, we could find more medical supplies—maybe even the equipment to treat her! There’s got to be something left out there!”
John shook his head without hesitation. “That’s not an option. No one goes topside anymore. It’s too dangerous. We don’t have the manpower to protect a scavenging party, let alone send them on a wild chase for equipment we might never find.”
Von’s voice cracked with desperation. “Then let me take her. I’ll go. I’ll leave the bunker and find it myself. You won’t have to waste resources—I’ll take that risk.”
John’s tone hardened, but there was a steady weight of responsibility behind it. “Absolutely not. If the location of this bunker were compromised, every life here would be at risk. I won’t let that happen. Or do you want a repeat of three years ago?”
Three years ago. The memory hit Von like a stone. He could still see it—the day the bunker bled. Back when people still went topside for fresh air, for supplies, for survivors. One of those they brought back had turned out to be a traitor. He had lowered the defenses, and the raiders came. Not just scavengers—these were organized, armed, and dangerous, former soldiers turned predators. They had torn into the bunker like wolves, and for hours it was nothing but gunfire, screaming, and blood in the corridors. They beat them back, but the price had been heavy. Too many dead. The general himself among them. From that day on, the doors had stayed sealed. No more trips topside. No more chances.
And Von had understood it. He had agreed with the lockout policy—hell, most of them had. After what happened, how could they not? It had kept them alive. Kept May alive. But that was then… and now her life was being threatened by that same rule.
Von stepped forward, desperation edging into defiance. “What if we never came back? If May and I stayed topside, no one could follow back us here.”
TJ shook his head immediately. “That’s suicide, kid. You’re not just going to get yourself killed, you’re goi—”
“Enough!” John cut in, his voice steady but carrying the weight of finality. His stern expression softened, not with agreement, but with something heavier: pity. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Von… you wouldn’t last a week out there. I won’t send you to die just so you can cling to false hope.”
Von’s fists clenched tighter, anger flaring hot. “You say that now, Commander—but if it were Stella lying in that infirmary, if it were your sister about to die, you wouldn’t just sit back and let it happen.”
The air in the room went still. John’s eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed cold. “You’re not leaving, Von. Not with her. That’s final.”
Something in Von snapped. Without thinking, his gaze flicked to the sidearm holstered at John’s belt. He lunged, fingers brushing the grip of the weapon—before a strong hand clamped around his wrist and yanked it back.
“Don’t.” TJ warned, his voice low and firm, holding Von in place.
John stepped in, his gaze fixed on Von. No shouting, no fury—just a heavy silence, his voice like ice. “I expected better from you. Put him in confinement.”
TJ hesitated, but when Von tried to jerk free, he tightened his grip and pulled him toward the door. Leaning in close so only Von could hear, he muttered, “you’re lucky I stopped you, kid. Next time you reach for a commander’s gun, they won’t just throw you in confinement.”
Just before TJ led him out of the office, John’s voice cut through the air. “You’ll thank me for this one day,” he said, his tone like ice. “In time, you’ll understand.”
Von twisted in TJ’s grip, his glare locked on the commander. His voice was steady, almost solemn. “I don’t care what you or your council decide—I will save May. I won’t let you kill her.”
The confinement cell was little more than a narrow concrete box—bare walls, a cot bolted to the floor, and a single dim light overhead. The air was cold, carrying the faint bite of rust and old bleach.
Von sat on the cot, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His hands still ached where TJ had grabbed him. Every second that ticked by felt like a countdown he couldn’t stop.
The door latch clicked.
TJ stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. “You done sulking yet?” he asked, voice low so it wouldn’t carry down the hall.
Von didn’t look up. “You’re just here to tell me to accept it.”
TJ leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “No. I’m here to tell you that blowing up at John and trying to swipe his side arm was dumb as hell.”
Von finally glanced at him, eyes hard. “You think I care? She’s my sister.”
“I know,” TJ said, his tone softening. “And that’s the only reason I stopped you—because you’d be in a body bag right now if you’d tried to run. You’re not ready for topside.”
Von’s jaw clenched. “So what? We just wait for them to kill her?”
TJ hesitated, then looked toward the small, barred window in the door before speaking again. “I’m saying… sometimes, the right move isn’t charging in head-on. Sometimes you wait, you watch, and you make the play when the odds aren’t stacked so high against you.”
Von narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”
TJ gave a faint smirk. “I’m not saying you can save her. I’m saying I’ve seen crazier things happen in this hellhole. And if someone was gonna try something stupid? Might as well do it smart.”
Von sat back, the words circling in his head. It wasn’t a promise—but it wasn’t a no, either.
TJ straightened and moved for the door. “Get some sleep, kid. Morning’s coming fast.”
The lock clicked shut behind him, leaving Von in silence.
He stared at the wall, but his mind drifted somewhere far darker—back to that night…
The night the screams started. The night the sky glowed red from burning cities. He was fourteen, huddled in the corner of their small apartment with May clinging to him, her sobs muffled in his shirt.
Their mother lay on the couch, skin pale and slick with sweat, blood staining her lips. Her breathing had grown ragged, each inhale shallower than the last. She reached for his hand, her fingers trembling.
“Von…” Her voice cracked. “Listen to me. No matter what happens—no matter how bad it gets—you keep May safe. Promise me.”
“I promise,” he said without hesitation, tears blurring his vision.
She coughed violently, then squeezed his hand with what little strength she had left. “Don’t let anyone take her from you. Ever.”
Those were her last words before her body went still.
Von’s eyes snapped open, the cell coming back into focus. His breathing was heavy, his chest tight, but his jaw was set.
If they thought he was going to just sit here and let May die, they had no idea who they were dealing with.
Morning was coming fast—but so was his plan.
