𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 53

Prepared

2031

Aidan

My flashlight shines down the shaft of the hatch.

"Hello?" I hesitantly call out, but as I presumed, I don't get an answer.

A ladder reaches down to the underground bunker.

Carefully, I place my feet and my hands on the first rungs.

I can't see how long the ladder really is, or how far the drop is, should I fall.

The ladder groans when I slowly climb down and when I have solid ground under my feet again, I shine my flashlight up to the opened hatch, the opening as small as a grain of rice.

Twelve feet, if not more.

Cold air surrounds me and my flashlight hits a breaker box just next to the ladder. After some experimenting, I figured out which switch activates which light, and soon enough, the underground bunker is lit up.

I'm alone.

The walls curve on the ceiling, similar to a tunnel, and the interior is little to less as scarce as upstairs - a simple bed and a table with two chairs, a dresser and a kitchen counter.

On one side, a section with a sink and mirror is separated from the rest of the room.

In one corner, I spot a generator, quite half the size of me, with a jerrycan filled with what I suppose is gasoline next to it.

On the table, I spot something utterly familiar. I think back to the class I had with Miss Kath.

Morse code. Because this machinery right here is a Morse code signal transfer machine, a small one. If I remember how to send a message – which wouldn't be considerably hard thinking back to how much the teacher drilled every sound and dot and line into our minds - then this could be useful.

The lamp on the machine is off, perhaps it's dead.

My father thought of everything.

For some reason, this here seems more humane and comfortable than upstairs.

I walk over to one of the metal shelves next to the kitchen counter and begin to look through the wooden stock boxes. To my luck, I find some batteries that I replace the old ones in my flashlight with.

I don't know when or if I'd ever use this underground bunker, but it is a little less frightening to be all by myself knowing I'd be safe here.