To Kiss A Corpse Goodbye

20 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓

The bunker of the old couple was not very large, nor very nice, and it wasn't terribly different from the one they'd been in before. The ceiling was a good bit lower. A fact which presented no issue for the small, hunched over seniors, though was giving Adelaide a fair share of back problems. The bunker didn't have wallpaper, instead being nothing more than a grey box. There was nowhere to sleep, sit, or stand if you were any taller than Aiya or his wife, who had revealed herself to be named Nuna on the way over.

The spacing of the bunker itself wasn't too terrible for two small, hunched over people. Had they wanted to, Nuna and Aiya could have lived the rest of their lives together in the little bunker. Prepared correctly, it could have had enough room for food and water and a little entertainment in the form of some books or yarn.

The trouble was that they had gotten the bunker under the assumption they'd never actually need it for anything. They had foolishly trusted that the world was wiser than to destroy itself, and that it was all no more than some stupid posturing from nations who would never actually pull the trigger.

Those two fools, as a result, had simply never bothered to stock their bunker particularly thoroughly, or add any comforts for themselves– and in fact, what was inside, were just things they had nowhere else to store in their actual house. A house which was nothing more than a distant memory now, on account of having been eviscerated by those bombs they thought were nothing more than empty threats.

They'd survived by some sheer luck, really. They had been down in the right place at just the right time. There were a handful of canned goods in the bunker– though the majority of what was kept down there was just the couple's junk. There were the remnants of an old canoe, laid down across the ground. A shovel with a bullet hole through it. Mechanical junk like car parts. Rubber band after rubber band. A toboggan, which Nuna had said was for their granddaughter, who she assured lived in a different city, and who was not one of the small corpses among the wreckage of their house.

Though Nuna then did not bother to explain who those bodies actually belonged to.

Aiya was more than eager to divulge his theories and thoughts on the matter, however. "Sabimi maybe? Or Garvey. I'd bet it was Garvey. They always let that kid outside at all the worst times, and there was no sleep in the neighbourhood because of him. Or possibly Sashemimi! Or Horvi! Or even Zunairah's little pig children! Those children always ruined things. Either way, not our snorts. And if the shit's aren't ours, then it's not our problem."

"Right..." Rainmaker nodded with a visible discomfort.

"Did anyone else survive in this neighbourhood?" Adelaide wondered. She hadn't spoken very much since the encounter at the tree. She'd frightened herself. And a piece of her had died– and both things seemed like good enough excuses to never speak again. Good enough circumstances to hide and retreat into fear forever over.

The rest of the group had been fine in terms of speaking without her butting in anyway. Rainmaker was good at seeming amiable– even if he could be awkward. The old couple offered him a good deal more decency than they offered her. He, after all, had not been the one to try picking a needless fight.

Aiya plopped himself down to sit on the remnants of the canoe. "Don't know. Don't care. Just damn glad our tree survived."

"Is the tree special?" Rainmaker asked.

Adelaide watched the group of them. She stood off to the side. It felt strange to not have the weight of the briefcase on her arm, pulling her to one side. She once again could not feel her fingers. She attempted to trace them along the back wall of the bunker, but it did her little good. She could scarcely grasp any sense of texture. Not because the wall was well smoothed, no. But because her fingers were essentially useless for feeling. They also struggled with moving. Grasping. Adelaide's hands may as well have been glued on. She wasn't getting much use out of them anymore.