The Storm [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Four:

There wasn't much to do in the bunker, no matter what time of day it was. Many just slept the day away or played cards with their families in quiet voices. Some would venture outside to empty the bathroom buckets and gather any saveable twigs for firewood in case the fireplace stopped working again.

Thankful they would return because people started to realise they could begin to predict the end and beginning of storms. Charts were posted on the steel walls and markers were dried up in the timings and calculations. Thankfully for everyone in the bunker, there were some very gifted people who began to predict the Storm.

There was a person who said that at the next predicted end of a wind storm, a group of volunteers would go out beyond the doorway and scout out what was left of the land.

Mexico volunteered immediately and began to pack up his few things. He had brought with him a simple grey backpack with canned food, a refillable water bottle (complete with filter he explained) his own respirator and five extras. The same went for the five people he had managed to bring with him to America's bunker.

America thought about volunteering and decided to ask Cass' opinion. Instead of doing what America thought the boy would do (say it was too dangerous or something like that), Cass looked him dead in the eyes and told him to try to find his mother. It took him a moment to respond, then America nodded seriously and placed his hand on Cass's shoulder.

America then began packing alongside Mexico. They both brought their canned food and America snuck a bottle of water from the stall and put on the respirator Mexico gave to him. "The dust is insane out there so try not to breath through your mouth...or at all," he explained grimly.

Then when the howling winds came to their brief halt, the group of volunteers stood in a single file line in front of the door. People had gathered to see them off; people were hugging and kissing so much one might think they were going to war. America felt a familiar warmth on his side and patted Cass' snowy head and crouched down in front of him.

"Don't worry Cass, I'll be fine," America promised, giving a hug to the boy.

"Yeah, I'll be there to protect him," Mexico butted in and gave the boy's shoulder a quick but reassuring squeeze.

Cass nodded at them and gave America a final hug goodbye and told them to get going.

Finally, the group opened the doors and set out.

XXXXX

As soon as they stepped outside, they were hit with a gust of debris-filled wind. America tried but couldn't obey Mexico's advice to not breathe. Even with the respirator, the air was thick and dry, like breathing in sandpaper. It ran down your throat like it was ripping open the tender tissue of your lungs that was so used to the clean recycled oxygen of the bunker.

America buckled over with a few others and coughed out loud painful sounds. They heaved and held their chests, trying to stop the dirt, dust, sand and broken glass particles from entering their chest.

Some ran back tot he door and begged it to be open, their voices were rough and dry. America almost considered running back with them and ripping open the door, then thought of Cass' determined little face, confident that America would bring back his mother.

Although one breath of the toxic air confirmed America's belief that she was long dead. He coughed more and tried to keep going, holding his breath and feeling his lungs burn. He then felt a reassuring hand on his back. Mexico.

"Don't worry, the first breath is the worst, just keep going. Come on amigo, you'll get used to it, we gotta go," he whispered comfortingly and helped America to stand up straight.