The Cross Over (Silent Moments Series: Book 7)

Chapter 22

As we reentered the bunker, Gaia led the way, her voice tinged with resignation. "No one wants to live here, but it will do until we build our own shelter," she said. "There's a river close by, so at least we have plenty of drinking water."

Jackson, ever practical, posed a crucial question. "What about food? Have you checked the hydrofarm?"

Gaia's response was a disheartened shake of her head. "Nothing," she sighed. "That whole level was destroyed in the fire."

Miller's gaze swept the room, noticing a particular absence. "Where is Bloodreina?" he asked, his tone indicating he was looking for Octavia.

Hope, who had been quietly observing the group, offered an explanation. "She didn't come back inside," she said.

Indra, with her usual stoicism, commented on Octavia's choice. "Avoiding her demons," she stated. "I don't blame her."

Gabriel, concerned with the practicalities of our situation, inquired further. "Have you found another food source?"

Gaia began to answer, "We hear birds, insects, so there must—"

Raven, focusing on another aspect of our survival, interjected with her own question. "What about power, hot water?"

Again, Gaia shook her head, her expression speaking volumes about the stark reality of our situation.

Murphy, ever the one for blunt statements, announced his decision. "That's it, I'm outta here," he declared. "Where's the funky ball with the green light?"

The conversations encapsulated our new reality – a mix of concern for basic necessities and the struggle to adapt to a drastically changed environment. Each question and comment painted a picture of our collective struggle to survive and rebuild amidst the ruins of what was once our home. As we stood there in the bunker, the task ahead of us was daunting. We were back on Earth, a planet both familiar and alien, forced to start anew, to forge a life from the remnants of the past. It was a challenge that would test our resilience, our ingenuity, and our ability to work together in the face of adversity.

Jordan's voice held a note of resignation as he shared his findings. "A way out is the first thing we looked for," he said. "There's no stone here."

Gabriel, however, wasn't ready to accept that conclusion. "No, there has to be," he insisted. "That's how Cadogan got his people out."

Cass, who had spent years in the bunker, voiced her skepticism. "We lived here for six years," she sighed. "I think we would have seen it."

Raven, ever the pragmatist, decided to take matters into her own hands. "One way to find out," she remarked with a hint of her characteristic snark, placing the helmet on her head.

Jordan tried to temper her expectations. "Raven, we tried that," he said. "Our helmets showed no trace of a stone anywhere."

But Raven was not deterred. She quickly removed the helmet and turned to Jordan, a triumphant look in her eyes. "One hundred feet straight down," she announced. "They gave you trash helmets so you couldn't get out."

Murphy, seizing on this new information, was quick to suggest a plan. "Perfect, so we jump to Sanctum, have a hot shower, stock up on supplies," he said with a nod.

Gabriel agreed, adding his own priority to the list. "Bring my people home," he said firmly.

Feeling a surge of hope, I stood up from the steps and approached the group. "Rave, can I?" I asked, a sense of urgency in my voice.

Raven looked at me, understanding the significance of the moment, and carefully handed the helmet over to me. "Yeah," she nodded.

As I took the helmet in my hands, a sense of responsibility and resolve settled over me. We had a way out, a path forward. The knowledge that we could return to Sanctum, gather supplies, and possibly bring back those we had left behind offered a glimmer of hope in the midst of our uncertain situation. The helmet felt heavy in my hands, both physically and symbolically. I turned it over, feeling its weight, its texture, contemplating the potential it held. My thoughts swirled, a mix of desperation and determination. After a few moments, a decisive resolve took hold of me. Without a word, I strode towards the wall, my movements deliberate. The group watched, puzzled by my actions. Then, with a sudden burst of emotion, I raised the helmet and slammed it against the wall. Once, twice, several times, each impact echoing through the room.