An Ounce of Hope

Chapter 3

It was now 4 P.M. and I just started doing my homework. I texted Elliot about the project and he said he could come over as soon as Thursday, little did I know that Thursday would be the worst day of my life. I was never one to check the news, but I did. I set aside my homework and switched the channel over. The blaring headline struck me and sent a chill down my spine: "Breaking News: Flee the country, bomb threat underway!" I didn't believe it because it was on an untrustworthy channel, so I ignored it. Although, it crept in the back of my mind all day and night, and my family not returning home at their usual times scared me even more. Was it real? No, it can't be! I reassured myself and got a good night's rest. However, I was still scared. 

The next morning was Saturday, it was eerily peaceful outside. I looked out my window and outside was desolate. This sent an even colder shiver down my spine, there was still no sign of my family. They left me, I thought for a second, but they're probably just jammed somewhere, they'll come home soon... right? Still, the thought that the headline was true knocked at my brain all day and urged me to check my shelter. I stocked it extra with blankets and survival tools even though it was already jammed-packed with everything one would need for at least 20 years.  

Soon enough the days went past, one by one. Fewer and fewer people came to school and then Thursday came. I was at home when I heard a knock on the door, it was Elliot. I let him in and asked about the situation, he knew. He spoke in a passive tone telling me that doomsday was coming soon and his family left him too. I was empathetic towards him, but that was quickly halted when the sirens went off. Not just tornado sirens, but all of them. We had little time to spare, I pushed him into the bunker that was so low below the earth's surface that it felt wet and slightly warm, like the second layer of a pile of dirt that's directly in a path of sunlight. I wasn't scared at that moment, but instead, all I was running on was the will to survive. I grabbed everything I thought to be necessary, textbooks especially. I locked us in the bunker and let out quick sharp breaths. I was scared, but not as paralyzed with fear as he was. Just a few seconds later there was banging on the hatch, I thought I was hallucinating. I wasn't, but I wish I was.

It wasn't someone I knew, and the bomb was seconds from dropping, I covered my ears and Elliot was passed out from fear. Soon enough, we heard the gurgling sound of a man screaming while being evaporated and torn apart. I wanted to vomit, no matter how hard a slammed my hands against my ears, it didn't go away. I didn't want to move anymore, I didn't want to be alive anymore, but I did, and I was. I quickly stretched out two transportable cots that military officials used and I moved Elliot onto one, myself onto the other. We got the easily moveable cots from my grandfather, and thank god we did. I wanted to sleep, I really did, but I just couldn't. Everything fell dark and silent, I was a 16 year old with no family, no home, no friends except for Elliot, and nothing to do. I was, as some may say, alone.