Chapter 2
As Von lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, every muscle tense. He could hear the faint hum of the ventilation system and the occasional footsteps echoing from the guard post down the hall.
He closed his eyes, but it only brought the memory of his mother’s last words rushing back.
“Don’t let anyone take her from you. Ever.”
The words looped over and over, gnawing at him. He tried to picture May now—probably curled up in her bunk, clutching that old stuffed bunny like a lifeline. She didn’t know. She had no idea the clock was running out on her life.
Von sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. His mind raced. The commander’s office. The infirmary. The elevators. He replayed the layout of the bunker in his head, tracing corridors, memorizing where each guard would be at night.
The elevator required a keycard. The upper storage bay had the heavy coats and gear they’d need to survive the cold topside. The old service tunnels—they were half-collapsed, but he’d heard the maintenance crew talking about how one of them still connected to the surface.
It was risky. Stupid, even. But what was the alternative? Sit here and wait for morning so they could kill her?
Von gripped the edge of the cot, nails biting into the metal frame.
If they won’t help her… I will.
He pictured himself moving through the bunker, sticking to the blind spots between the camera sweeps, May’s small hand in his. He’d have to get past the guards at the storage bay. Maybe TJ… maybe TJ could help. The man wasn’t a fool—he’d dropped hints earlier that he didn’t fully agree with the commander. But could he be trusted? Or would he try to stop him again?
The questions swirled, but one thing was certain: Von wasn’t leaving May here.
He lay back down, eyes open, staring into the dark until the dim light above seemed to fade. Sleep never came.
As he lay there, his mind turned to a different question—how much time did he even have left? Was it morning yet? Midnight? The minutes bled into hours, and the silence pressed in on him like a weight.
Then, suddenly, a sharp clatter echoed from the cell door. The metal bolt slid back with a heavy scrape.
“Von? Are you awake?”
That voice—soft, careful. It sounded like… Stella.
Von pushed himself up on the cot, blinking in the low light. “Stella? What—”
“Shh.” She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her hair was tucked under a dark knit cap, and her eyes darted toward the hallway. “Keep your voice down.”
Von blinked, stunned to see her. “Stella? Why are you here?”
She shot him a stern look. “Isn’t it obvious?” Cracking the door open again, she glanced both ways down the hall before turning back to him. “Come on—we don’t have much time.”
They slipped into the corridor, the bunker unnaturally quiet except for the faint hum of the generators. Shadows stretched long across the walls as they headed toward the elevator—toward the surface no one was supposed to see again.
They moved like wraiths through the sleeping corridors, Stella leading the way. Von’s heart hammered in his ears—not from fear, but from the gnawing urgency that every second counted.
When they reached the infirmary, the dim glow of a single lamp spilled into the hall. Inside, the doctor was already waiting, her worn coat buttoned up, a small duffel bag at her feet.
“Big bro!” May shouted, bounding toward him with excitement.
She stood there in a big red coat that nearly swallowed her small frame, her hair tied neatly into pigtails. Her face lit up the moment she saw him.
In the corner, the doctor was crouched low, finishing the knot on May’s shoe. She straightened slightly, glancing back as Von and Stella appeared in the doorway.
“You’re late,” the doctor murmured, though her eyes softened when they met his.
Von froze, caught between relief, confusion, and disbelief, not sure what to make of the situation unfolding in front of him.
Stella glanced up at him, her tone brisk. “We’re getting her out, obviously.”
The doctor didn’t waste time. She pressed a small pouch of medicine into his hand. “Two pills a day, morning and night. That’s all I could spare without raising suspicion. If she doesn’t show improvement, and she starts to show any of these signs—written down here—” she tapped a folded slip of paper tucked against the pouch, “well… let’s just hope she doesn’t. But I’ve written down instructions for you.”
Von nodded tightly. “I understand.”
She then handed him a folded, laminated map. Red ink traced a winding path across it, circling scattered locations. “These are other bunkers and fallout shelters. I can’t promise they’re still standing—communications have been dead for years—but if any are operational, they might have the equipment or supplies you need.”
Von unfolded it, committing the markings to memory. “Why are you doing this?”
The doctor gave him a tired smile. “Because I took an oath to do no harm… and besides…” she glanced over at May, her expression softening, “look at her.”
As the words settled, Stella stepped forward and held out a large green jacket. “Here, put this on. It’s still chilly out there, and you’ll need it until spring fully hits.”
Von took the jacket and slipped it over his faded blue shirt, the fabric hanging loose against his jeans and tattered shoes.
The doctor finished her instructions, her voice low but urgent. “Remember—two pills a day. Watch for swelling, dizziness, or shortness of breath. And if you run out…” She hesitated, then slipped a folded slip of paper into Von’s hand. “Find one of the marked shelters. And here—this is a list of medications that could work as substitutes. If you find a pharmacy, a clinic, maybe even a hospital that’s still intact… check for these first.”
Von glanced at the paper, the neat handwriting spelling out drug names he could barely pronounce. He tucked it securely into his jacket alongside the map, his jaw set. “I’ll find them.”
Stella adjusted May’s hood, then crossed to the door. She pressed her ear to the cold metal, straining for any sound beyond. After a moment, she turned back. “Hall’s clear. But before we head for the elevators, we need to stop at the armory.”
Von raised a brow. “The armory?” Confusion flickered across his face. They’d need an access card for that… Wait—they’d need one for the elevators too. “Don’t we need an access card? How are we supposed to get into the armory, let alone topside?”
Stella grinned, pulling a card from her pocket and giving him an exaggerated wink. “Please. You really think I’d come this far without a plan?” She held it up—the commander’s access card gleaming in the dim light.
Von blinked. “Hold on—you two are going to get in serious trouble for this.”
“Relax,” Stella teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “I’ll handle my brother later. You just focus on getting May out of here, okay?”
Von felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. Glancing down, he saw May looking up at him, her small hand clutching his jacket. “Bro… are we really going outside?” she asked.
He rested a hand on her head, his voice soft. “Yeah, we are. Are you scared?”
For a moment, May looked down, then lifted her eyes with a bright smile. “Nope! Not as long as you’re there.”
Von’s chest tightened, but he managed a faint smile. He gave the doctor a grateful nod. “Thank you.”
Then, with Stella at his side and May’s hand in his, they slipped into the corridor and made their way toward the armory.
They moved fast, every step measured, every breath held whenever the old steel floor groaned beneath their weight. The bunker’s lights were dimmed for night cycle, only soft amber strips glowing along the baseboards to guide their way.
Stella led at the front, her grip white-knuckled on the stolen keycard. Von stayed close behind, May’s small hand clinging to his jacket sleeve. The doctor trailed just far enough back to keep watch, eyes flicking over the shadows that stretched long at their heels.
They reached a junction—two hallways, both silent.
Stella took the right, toward a reinforced bulkhead door with a card reader blinking red. “This is it,” she whispered.
Von glanced over his shoulder, the prickling sense of being watched crawling down his spine. “You sure we’ve got time?”
“No,” she said flatly. “But we’re taking it.”
She swiped the keycard. For a long second, nothing happened—then the light flicked green with a muted click.
Stella eased the heavy door open just enough for them to slip inside.
The air was cooler here, tinged with oil and cold metal. Racks lined the walls—rifles secured in mounts, sidearms holstered and locked, boxes of ammunition stacked waist-high.
Von’s gaze swept the room, his instincts already tallying what they could carry without slowing them down.
“Shotgun, one sidearm, spare ammo, and…” Stella scanned the shelves, eyes darting. “Take this hunting knife. Light and useful.”
Von shifted May against the wall, one hand steady on her shoulder as he moved quickly to gather supplies. His pulse hammered—not from the weight of the guns, but from the gnawing awareness that the second this door opened again, someone could be standing there.
As Von loaded the weapons, Stella stepped to a storage locker marked SURVIVAL GEAR and popped it open. Inside were sealed ration packs, water canisters, a compact med kit. She stuffed as much as she could into the spare duffel.
“Von,” Stella hissed, tossing him a pump-action shotgun.
He caught it and slung the strap over his shoulder. The cold steel against his back sent a jolt through him—it had been years since he’d carried a weapon like this.
“Alright,” Stella said, voice low but urgent. “We’ve got what we can. Now we head for the freight elevator—fast!”
Von took May’s hand again, gripping tighter than before. Every instinct screamed to move faster. They were so close… and every second they lingered felt like they were daring fate to catch them.
They moved quickly through the quiet halls, their gear shifting softly with each step. The stolen shotgun weighed heavy across Von’s back, its cold steel pressing into his shoulder. At his side, May clung to his hand, her hood pulled low, Mister Floppers tucked tightly under her arm.
But as they rounded the last corner, Stella froze.
A lone guard stood in front of the elevator doors, leaning against the wall with his rifle slung lazily across his chest. His eyes were half-lidded from the night shift, but sharp enough to catch movement.
Stella didn’t hesitate. She straightened, pulling off her hat and shaking out her long, fiery hair. Her shirt, untucked, was tied up at the waist, exposing just enough to draw attention without going too far. Every move was casual—yet calculated.
“Stay here,” she whispered to Von and May, her tone sharp. “Wait for my signal.”
Von blinked, surprised, but crouched with May behind a nearby crate.
Stella strolled into the guard’s path with a confident sway. He blinked, recognition dawning. “You… you’re the commander’s little sister. Stella, right?”
She smiled warmly, letting her hair frame her face. “Oh, I’ve always had an eye on you,” she said softly, voice dipping into a flirty lilt. “One of the cuties under my brother’s command.”
The guard grinned, leaning closer. “Well, I—”
Before he could finish, Stella pressed a compact taser into his side. His body jerked violently, eyes wide, before he collapsed with a muffled grunt.
Von peeked out from behind the crate, heart hammering. “Where the hell did you get that?”
Stella smirked, tucking the taser away. “A girl’s got her secrets.” She waved them forward. “Alright, you two—come on. Now.”
She swiped her brother’s access card at the panel, and the elevator rumbled to life. As they waited, the dim bunker lights cast long shadows across the walls.
Stella leaned against the railing, watching them. “So… you planning to come back?” Her tone was light but carried an anxious, curious, edge.
Von hesitated, eyes fixed on the floor. “Not sure.”
Stella gave a small, knowing smile and stepped closer. Before Von could react, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise as she swiped the card again, hit the button for the top level, and stepped aside.
“Good luck, you two,” she called over her shoulder, leaping out of the way just before the doors slid shut.
Von stood there, still stunned, glancing at May, who grinned mischievously.
“Keep your foolish brother in line!” Stella’s voice echoed from below, a final spark of encouragement. As the elevator began its slow ascent, the space felt impossibly tight, the metallic walls groaning with each shudder of the machinery. Von’s hands tightened on the rails, shotgun gripped tight, eyes snapping to every shadow and flicker of light.
Through the small window, the lower levels slowly shrank away. Stella’s figure grew smaller, her face still visible. Tears slipped down her cheeks, glinting in the dim light—a fragile mix of worry and hope.
May, sensing her brother’s tension, nudged his side with a tiny elbow. “Hey,” she said with a grin, “that kiss from Stella earlier—are you blushing, big brother?”
Von froze, heat rising to his cheeks. “Shut up,” he muttered, though a small, reluctant smile betrayed him.
The elevator groaned again as it neared the top, each second dragging longer than the last. Finally, with a metallic screech, the doors slid open to reveal a shadowed corridor bathed in the cold glow of emergency lights. Von holstered the shotgun but kept it cocked, scanning every corner. May clutched Mister Floppers tight, her teasing grin fading into a determined focus.
Then, a shrill alarm tore through the bunker. Von’s stomach dropped. “What?” he muttered, scanning quickly. His eyes landed on a loose steel bar lying near the wall. He snatched it up and wedged it hard between the elevator doors just as they began to grind closed again. Metal screeched against metal, the gap shuddering but holding.
“That’ll slow them down,” he hissed, turning back to May. “Come on.”
Far beneath them, chaos erupted. The guard they had left behind had regained consciousness—and now Stella was in custody. Von couldn’t see it, but he could imagine: Commander John, TJ, and armed men already converging, spreading through the corridors, the hunt for them underway.
His mind raced, but panic had no place here. “Keep moving, May,” he whispered. Together they sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, shadows leaping along the walls as the red lights flashed in rhythm with the echoing alarm screaming through the bunker. The control room for the main gate loomed ahead—their only chance to escape.
Von holstered the shotgun, keeping it cocked and ready, then looked down at his sister. “Stay close,” he whispered. May nodded, her small hand clutching tight to his jacket as she pressed against his side.
Though Commander John and the others had cleared the upper levels before sealing them off, three years was a long time. Anything could have slipped through. Anything could be waiting. The thought gnawed at Von as they crept forward, moving one corner at a time, every shadow stretching long in the dim glow of the emergency lights.
A sudden clatter echoed ahead—an old door shifting on its rusted hinges. May flinched, her grip tightening on Von’s jacket. He froze, shotgun halfway raised, breath caught in his throat. Then, with a sharp squeak, a rat scurried across the corridor and vanished into the dark. Von exhaled, tension easing just enough to move forward again.
They cleared the hall step by step, Von’s nerves razor-sharp, until finally the passage widened and opened into the vast chamber of the main entrance. With every step, Von’s determination hardened.
The main entrance opened into a vast chamber. Darkness pressed in from every corner, broken only by thin shafts of sunlight spilling through the high sun windows above. The silence was unsettling—too still, too empty.
Von’s eyes swept the space before locking on the control room near the gate. He gestured to May, and together they hurried across the concrete floor, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous quiet.
Von pushed the control room door open and slipped inside. May lingered just outside, peeking nervously around the frame, Mister Floppers clutched tight to her chest. The room was small and rectangular, its windows offering a full view of the entryway beyond. The sheer scale of the main gate struck him—it was massive, the size of a warehouse door, stretching wide and unyielding.
He hurried to the console, flicking on the monitors tied to the outside cameras. One by one, the feeds crackled to life. Von scanned them quickly, eyes darting over each screen.
“Good,” he muttered, relief tempered by tension. “Looks clear. No Z’s in sight.”
His hand hovered over the switch, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Then the radio on the console crackled, shattering the silence.
“VON.”
Von froze, every nerve on edge. The commander’s voice carried an authority that made the hair on his neck rise. Calm. Measured. Unyielding. He didn’t shout, didn’t plead—he simply spoke with the quiet power of a man who expected to be obeyed.
“Von… think about what you’re doing,” John’s tone was almost gentle, coaxing. “Out there—it’s not just the Z-virus. There are hordes. Raiders. Unstable survivors. And nature itself—cold and merciless. Every step you take could be your last… or hers.”
Von’s chest tightened as memories crashed into him: the chaos of the outbreak, screams tearing through abandoned streets, friends dying beside him, his mother clutching his hand as the world burned. He remembered clawing through rubble, scavenging for food, fighting off desperate survivors—and the overwhelming relief when the people of the bunker took him and May in while the outside world still drowned in chaos.
The commander’s voice droned on, calm and coaxing, painting vivid pictures of danger, trying to sap his resolve. But then, like a lightning strike, a different memory cut through the fear—the promise he had made the night his mother died: I’ll keep her safe. I’ll show her the world. I’ll protect her, no matter what.
And May—so young, so innocent, always dreaming of the world she’d never seen. Her wide eyes tracing the pages of her travel books. Her voice full of wonder about skies untouched by ruin. Cities and rivers she could only imagine.
Von’s breath caught. He gritted his teeth, resolve hardening. The commander’s warnings faded into static, drowned out by the echo of his promise and May’s hope. This wasn’t about survival anymore. It was about giving her the world she deserved—no matter the cost.
“Thanks, John,” Von said, his voice steady. “But I’m sorry… I refuse to let these walls be all she knows.”
Von’s palm struck the switch, a single act of defiance that thundered louder in his chest than the grinding gears of the massive doors.
The gates rumbled and groaned, parting for the first time in over three years. Light spilled in, cutting through the dim emergency glow. Dust motes swirled in the beams, and Von felt the air shift—freedom, risk, and hope flooding in together.
As the doors yawned wide, sunlight poured into the corridor. May squinted against the brilliance, her face glowing with awe and excitement.
Von stepped to her side, and May looked up at him as he moved beside her, then turned her gaze back to the massive doors as they continued to grind open. Her small hand tapped against his, seeking reassurance, and he tightened his grip in response. Their hands locked together, firm and unshakable, as the gate rumbled wider, spilling sunlight deeper into the corridor.
Von squeezed tighter, his other hand resting on the shotgun slung across his back.
“No matter what lies ahead… no matter what comes at us…” he muttered, the weight of his vow anchoring him. “…I will save her.”
Together, they stepped forward, out of the bunker and into the unknown.
