Bunker Bird

Epilogue - Adapt and Endure

Humanity is built to adapt and endure.

The Manuals of the Bunker, Vol. 3, Verse 50

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to all this light," I said. "It's so brilliant."

"We're humans," Wolfe answered. "We'll adapt and endure."

I smiled. The last verse of the last volume—its words were so familiar. I wondered if I'd ever be able to comprehend what was true and what was wrong in the laws I had grown up with.

We stood in the rocky recess at the bunker's exit. Crates of equipment were stacked against its walls. We, the other guards, and some volunteers had hauled them up from the caverns over the last few weeks. Our first houses would be erected right here, under the shelter of the rock.

But today wasn't a day for work. It was a day for celebration and exploration. Since we would start building our new city tomorrow, we had asked everyone to come up here and feast on the wonders of our new world.

I gazed at the door leading to the small chamber and into the bunker, waiting for the first of the people to emerge.

The wheel in the door turned, and it opened.

My father and Marge appeared. They both shielded their eyes against the light.

I remembered the feelings I had experienced, weeks ago, when I had been here with Amy, and I saw them mirrored in their faces.

They stepped up to us. Smiling, my father placed a hand on my shoulder. "Son."

"Dad."

Marge pushed him away. "Do you remember how I smacked your head back when they wanted to arrest you, and you didn't want to run away?"

I nodded, wondering what she was up to. Her posture was relaxed, so I hoped my near future wouldn't hold another blow.

"Back then, you finally ran. But your running wasn't a running away. Cos you came back. Well done!" She hugged me.

"I wish Ed was here to share this." I swallowed. "I'm so sorry about that."

She squeezed me but didn't say anything.

We had descended into the lower tunnels when the water levels finally had dropped, looking for victims of the flood. We had found none. That didn't change much, though—none of them could have survived.

"No need to be sorry," Marge said. "I've told you this before, and I'm saying it again. It's not your fault. As the manuals say, the bunker is the final home. At least for those who are dead, and for some others who don't want to live."

Right. The bishop and some of his closest followers had decided to stay in the caverns. And Frankie. To spend their lives in the company of the dead and with the past.

But the bishop had been adamant. The surface holds nothing but doom, he had said when Wolfe tried to persuade him to join us.

I looked out at the trees and the blue sky above them. Well, doom might await us here, but so far, I hadn't seen it. The bunker, though, was failing—I was sure of that.

A groan from the door caught our attention. The two guards emerged, carrying the craner between them. He muttered something, but he didn't close his eyes like most others did when they arrived up here for the first time. Having spent his life in his cabin close to the lamps of our cavern, he was likely the one person best prepared for this world of light.

Amy was the last one to leave the chamber.

She squinted, first at the light outside, then at me. "Hey, silly!"

The affection in her tease made me grin. "Amy bird."

She approached with a frown on her face, ignoring Wolfe. "Ye know what the craner says?"

"No."

"He says Gaths are not the ghosts of dead Engineers. He says they're just air turned bad. He says his grandpa told him so, but I don't believe him."

It took me a moment to get this, but then I had to laugh. "Oh, he's talking about gas. Yes, gas can kill people."

"That's what I told you. Gaths can kill people."

Was there a smirk on her lips? I didn't think I'd ever understand this woman.

She turned her attention on Wolfe. "Captain."

"Amy."

For a moment, the two redheads eyed each other, none of them saying anything.

"I always thought ye people from the caverns are soft," she said, still eying him. "But that ain't so. Ye have soft ones and hard ones, just like we have... we had. And in the end, soft or hard isn't what matters."

"Right," he replied, "it doesn't matter as long as people do what's right."

She nodded. "Exactly." Then she turned away and headed for the outside as if drawn by the mighty trees and the chant of their rustling leaves. Her steps were as light as those of a bird about to soar into the sky.

"She's a mighty fine woman, that one," Wolfe said.

I nodded. "Yes. Her father must be proud of her."

"Right."

So far, Amy hadn't told Wolfe that Boss wasn't her real father, and it wasn't up to up me to set this right, so I kept quiet. She'd finally come around to tell the captain the truth; I was pretty sure of that.

And redheads weren't so common. In fact, I know only two of them.

Meanwhile, Amy had come to a halt in a patch of sunshine on the meadow right outside the recess. Touched by the warm light, her hair lit up in a flare as fierce as it was red. A butterfly danced around her head. She turned her face towards us, the soft wind ruffling her mane.

The beauty in her smile made my heart stop.

But being human, and being built to adapt and endure, I survived that little heart attack.

So, instead of dying right there and then, I smiled back at her. I didn't know what the future held in store for us, but I was looking forward to seeing this bunker bird soar.

THE END

A/N: This breathtaking picture of Amy, as she turns back to smile at Tim, was drawn by the incredible EvelynHail . Artiste extraordinaire—I'm honored to wattknow you. Check out her contribution to ONC 2019, the book titled GG. A story that has more layers than mille-feuille: Some of them funny, some of them sweet, some of them sad, and all of them wise.