I drop to my knees and begin brushing the ash off of the hatch with my cold, bare hands. With most of it off, I study the surface of the hatch for any information, and to my surprise, find nothing more than an engraved number, reading '#31'. I assume that means there are at least thirty more shelters scattered around Utah. At least the people who know where they are will survive.
I grip two of the bars on the top of the hatch and begin to pull counterclockwise. It hisses like a freshly opened Sprite, and then turns smoothly as I continue to unscrew it. With a loud thud, the lid pops loose. I lift the end closest to myself, swinging it open on a large hinge. Lights turn on one by one down a long ladder, until a dark grey floor is visible. The sound of electricity humming catches my attention. I bet it's luxurious.
I look over at Danielle who is seemingly uninterested by the shelter, and more worried about getting out of the ash which has now irritated both of our skins. "Go," I tell her. She nods and I help her down onto the ladder. Once she reaches the bottom I watch her take a look around and walk away. I pull my backpack off of my shoulders and toss it down the hole before lowering myself in as well. I peer over the side of the entrance and take a final glimpse of the tainted woods, before climbing down into my new home, one rung at a time. Upon reaching the bottom, I realize that I haven't got a clue how to shut the hatch. I glance around and see a red button mounted on the wall, about the size of half an orange, that reads "HATCH." How convenient. With the palm of my hand, I push against it and look up at the lid. Nothing. I press it again, but to no avail. I climb back up to the top of the ladder and notice a handle on the inside of the hatch. I guess there's a manual way for everything. I grip the handle and pull it down over my head as I slowly begin to descend for the second time. Again with a loud thud, it closes and I lower myself back to the floor. With both feet on the ground, I pick up my dark blue backpack and look around. Bright fluorescent lights hang from the ceiling by small chains, illuminating a depressing concrete room, about the size of a small cafeteria.
YOU ARE READING
#31
Short StoryWhat would happen if a regular teenage girl found herself caught in the aftermath of a nuclear strike? Sam is about to find out. When Sam is forced to relocate for safety, all she knows is she needs to get herself and her younger sister undergroun...
