Beneath A Dying Sky

Chapter 1 - Fallout

Climate change.

That's what Edith told herself. Climate change. Everyone thought that was the biggest threat. Ice caps melting, animals dying. At least now, the ice caps would be okay. Edith sat in the flickering lights of the dusty bunker, eating a can of mystery food.

The label had been rubbed off somehow, not that it mattered, food was food. It was thanks to some survivalists that she was still sitting here. Somewhere, someone had seen this coming and prepared. Much good it did them. She was here, and somewhere in the rubble and ash they lay. Dead, dying, it didn't matter. No one was coming. There would be no rescue, no final stand, nothing. There was nothing left.

She stood from the rickety chair and walked to the far wall, running her fingers along the dusty tally marks. Days, weeks, she wasn't even sure if it was accurate, there was no way to know when the sun rose and fell. Not down here.

Maybe if she had a clock, but whoever made this bunker hadn't seen to think about the mind-numbing feeling of losing track of time. Was it safe to go out? Or would her body be ravaged by radiation and die from poisoning? There was no way of knowing. But death didn't scare her. Not now.

When the war started, she remembered researching nukes and nuclear war. The Tsar Bomba was the strongest nuke ever made, and it was made by the Soviets. How simple was it to make something so horrific? Had the scientists who made it thought about how many lives it could have destroyed? Or were they simply thinking about progress, about winning a Cold War?

Edith shook her head; all this free time gave her too much time to think. Another thing these preppers didn't consider was boredom. It didn't matter who created the bombs or who set them off first. The world was way past that. It wasn't like she could go back and make them unsend the bombs. Nope. She was stuck here now, in her concrete prison, left to pace and wonder and speculate.

She'd been one of many protesting the war. Nobody had even wanted to go to war, and yet here they were left to pick up the pieces. She found herself waiting to wake up from this world like it was a bad dream. If she just stared hard enough at the light overhead, it would distort, and she'd find herself waking from a coma. But unfortunately for her, that didn't happen.

No, instead, she was trapped here. She looked at the can of food in her hand; it was some kind of ravioli. It wasn't half bad. One of the better ones she'd had in her time here. The noodle ones were always the best; it was the cream of mushroom ones she'd had to gag through. But eventually, she'd become hungry enough to just scarf it down. However, this was her last can, her last meal.

She sighed and sat back down in her chair, slumping down as she stared at the can, she almost felt guilty for eating it. But it was her first meal in a few days, and any longer, and she wouldn't have had the energy to even get the can open. A part of her wished she'd been one of the people taken out when the bombs first dropped, free from the hunger, the injuries, and the sickness. She'd nearly died from the sickness. By some miracle, she'd made it, or by some curse.

Maybe her survival was thanks to the potassium iodide and Prussian blue pills here in the bunker. Or just by some dumb luck. It didn't matter. She was here, somehow, and she was starting to be annoyed by it. Maybe it was selfish, but she was bored and losing her mind, hell she was talking to cans that she carved faces on. If that wasn't crazy, she didn't know what was.

She sighed and leaned her head back, pushing greasy hair out of her face, she needed to leave, maybe she'd find other people out there. Or maybe she'd find she was the only one left. The last human left after they destroyed themselves. There was a poem she couldn't remember fully, but the last part stuck out to her now; "this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper." Ironic, considering humanity went out with the bang of thousands of stars. But there was something beautiful about it.

God, her thoughts were all over the place, like her brain was trying to avoid thinking about leaving. She'd tried before when she'd had more food, but her body had frozen at the hatch, a cold fear gripping her veins at the memories of fire and death. She couldn't do it. But she would have to now, without food, she was completely fucked. And eventually, the hunger would be enough to push her out into the wasteland. Luckily enough, the bunker had a suit for that very occasion and a gas mask with extra filters.

She was sure the sun would be covered by radioactive ash. That's what all those articles said would happen before it happened. It was all theoretical but based on truth. This bunker was prepared for the worst but not prepared for isolation. Maybe whoever made it had a family, there was more than one bed here after all, it wouldn't be too far off to assume. Her little prison hadn't always been so dingy at first once the sickness passed, she'd spent hours cleaning, but eventually, she gave up on that chore.

Regardless of the state of her small world, she had to leave. Tomorrow. She would leave tomorrow after she slept. Hopefully, she'd find someplace like this, maybe bigger, with a clock and some board games. She wasn't hoping for much. But those things would do, and food, of course, water too. She did have some water left, but food would be great.

Edith stood from her chair, stretching a bit before she made her way to the cot in the corner of the dim, dusty room. Tomorrow, she'd leave and face the world head-on; maybe she'd die, or maybe she'd find someplace better. But for now, she would sleep and face the demons in her dreams.

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Authors note-

Hi! I've had this idea for some time, and depending on how this does, I'll see how often I update it, school has me pretty busy atm.