The Bunker

page 5

It's now been 8 months since we all have been outside, every day, I now yearn to take the kids outside and let them frolick in the fields by my house, I wonder if it still stands, if any buildings stand at all. They think we can't hear the explosions that happen, because of the soundproof walls, The Upper Chairmen certainly pretend to ignore it, they never acknowledge any sound that makes it through the walls and to our ears. Everytime an explosion occurs, the children rush to us, shaking and holding our hands tightly. Every time we stroke their heads and assure them the bunker is made to withstand anything, that we should be out of here soon, but none of the adults believe that, and I'm starting to think that the children think so too. The brightness in all of our eyes have faded, and all the tans on our bodies have left, leaving us pale and thin, like prisoners of war. Clothes are becoming scarce, the children are growing out of what w have, so we have to have the seamstress down here repair and tailor the clothes. At night, Tony and I clutch each other, and talk about our fears and worries in hushed voices. Occasionally, I find that during our night talks, tears will roll down my cheeks and Tony just holds me and strokes my hair assuring me that everything will be okay, that we will get out of here one day. I don't want the majority of our kid's lives to be in a dark bunker, living in fear that they will never see the sun again, never feel rough blades of grass on their skin, and never smell the sweetness of flowers again. I think they are beginning to forget what their real parents looked like, they now call me Mom whenever they need something and they call Tony, Dad, I have actually forgotten what it is like to see the sun set, to feel the sun on my upturned face. I wonder if my fields are overgrown, or if my house is dirty and needs to be scrubbed when I come back, or how many buildings have fallen down from disrepair or explosions. How many people are left that are not infected? Or are there actually survivors, hiding  away and wearing ragged clothes and have dirty faces. Do they have cuts? Bruises? We will only find out when we reammerge from our sunken home. 50 feet under the ground, with no sunlight whatsoever, no windows, only LED lights, and even some of those have burned out since the beginning. I worry about how much clean water we have, I feel as if we will run out. Now, I make one bath for all four of the kids and bathe them all at once. No one will be able to come out of this and act as if nothing happened, that's not an option anymore. People are slowly sinking into a state of lifelessness, the color seems to have drained out of everything. Smiles are hard to come by now, even the adults have started to come to our sock puppet plays for entertainment. We are running out of ideas for plays and sometimes do the same one a couple of times. Sleep is also hard to do, even if we have plenty of time to, no one can go to bed because they worry and fret about what our future is like. At luch time, everyone eats and settles around the radio to see if there are any updates on the outside world. Occasionally, we will hear that one person or another is found and taken to a shelter where they are safe from infection, but not as safe as us. Of course, there is the occasional time when deliveries come, people volunteer as gaurds for that now, and after they come back from the upper part of the bunker, they tell us what they saw out the door for the few minutes they were up there. Destruction, fires, bodies, broken vehicles and buldings that are crumbling is what is said more than anything. I never let the children listen to these stories of the world, they don't need anything more to worry about. I feel bad for them, they come to the three of us adults and ask when we will we get out, or what is hapening out there, and all we can tell them is soon, and bad things. We know that as soon as we get out of the bunker the kids will see things they have never imagined, things I had hoped the younger generation would not have to see. It is inevitable now, we cannot keep them from the chaos of the world their whole lives, they must learn at some point that the world is not perfect, and our town cannot keep every little sickness from happening, I know that when the kids are all grown up and have kids of their own, they will have to help prepare their family for this, if it happens again, they will have to tell this heartbreaking story, tell their kids that I am not their grandma by blood and Tony isn't their grandpa by blood, and Aunt Anna is just a very close friend to me not their real Aunt. Even worse than that though, is the fact that one day they will not be able to remember what their real parents looked like, or what their names were. There may not even be pictures of them anymore, and for that reason, I feel so sad for any and all of these kids that are in here, and outisde.