Silo

Chapter 1

We'd had this same argument every day for the last week, but here I was again, defending a score I knew for a fact was correct. Guess that's what happens when you're cooped up in a missile silo with nobody to talk to but each other. Somehow, something as trivial as the score of your last baseball game becomes a matter of life and death. 

"I had nothing to do with us losing that game, Keith. We were ahead five-two before you stepped onto the mound." 

"Whatever, Jake. We would've been ahead five nothing if they'd let me start."  

I stood up, sending the old cable spool we used as a table crashing over. The only deck of cards scattered across the thin layer of dirt that covered the floor. "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "The only reason you're on the varsity team to begin with is because your dad is the assistant coach." 

"Was!" Keith roared. His father had died along with the rest of our team that day on the bus, leaving the three of us to fend for ourselves. "And if you'd done your job and won the game before that, we wouldn't have been on that damn bus. We would've been home." 

"Now you're saying it's my fault your father's dead?" 

Keith nodded and took one aggressive step into my personal space. "I'm saying you losing that game sure as hell didn't help matters." 

"You little prick!" I grabbed him by the shirt collar, the thin fabric fraying in my hands. He'd been blaming me for everything lately, and I'd had enough. I slammed him into the concrete wall, sending small flecks of chipped paint raining down to the floor. "First it's my fault that this damn silo was flooded when we found it. Then it was my fault your boots wore out. Now you're saying it's my fault your father's dead...that I spent the last seventeen years of my life masterminding a solar storm? Have you lost your damn mind?" 

"Probably," Evan mumbled as he eased his way in between the two of us and used what little strength he had to pry my hands off Keith. "If it's any consolation, you're both wrong." 

I gave Keith one final shove before backing off, then uprighted the table and grabbed a seat. Evan placed a dingy, old notebook in the center and carefully flipped through the pages, tucking the torn ones further in so they wouldn't get lost. I knew the page he stopped on, had studied the numbers on that sheet every night since we moved into this crap-hole. But, nothing ever changed. 

"We were ahead five - zero when you relieved Jake, Keith. You walked in the first guy, the next batter grounded in a single." 

Keith grumbled under his breath, blaming my catcher, Tyler, for our loss. I'd thrown a wild pitch at the top of the seventh, accidentally hitting him in the wrist. He had to sit out for the rest of the game, and, as a result, the rest of my inning sucked. I may not have let any runs in, but I had my outfielders to thank for that and not my curve ball.  

"What about the game before that?" Keith asked, reaching for the book. 

Evan yanked it back, pressing it into his chest. That book was his life. Those stupid ledgers had become his bible, the only connection he had to his old life...to that day, and he wasn't giving it up. 

Evan flipped the pages back to the game Keith was referencing. "There, you are right," he said, and I saw Keith grin, had to fist my hands in my pockets or risk taking Keith out again. "If we'd won the home game, we would have won the series, would never have come here to face Lakeville's team on their own field." 

"What the hell does it matter?" I asked, irritated that we were obsessing, yet again, about the score of a stupid baseball game. It's not like we would've survived the solar storm at home. For all we knew, there wasn't even a home to return to. All we had was each other. Me. Evan-an elementary school friend of mine who I'd dragged along to keep track of my stats-and Keith, a relief pitcher who'd been vying for my spot on the mound since day one. With nothing left of our bus but melted metal and ashes, we were stranded here, no clue where we were or how to get home. Sucked, but our survival was mutually dependent upon each other. And right now, one third of each other was pissing me off.