Shelter

The deafening bells have been droning on for ten minutes now. The piercing siren let us know we were under attack and to flee towards the shelters. Our town had drilled this, hundreds, no, thousands of times, yet only thirty of us seemed to fill the vast preservation shelter we had built in case of nuclear attack. We were instructed to wait ten minutes, and then close the massive, lead door. Someone initiates the sequence and the lead door eerily descends into place, sealing us in this tomb of rock and metal.  I scanned the crowd again desperately searching for anyone I knew. I spot a girl with long dark hair, mom? She turns towards me, another stranger. My sister was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of my friends. Maybe they found another place to hide? A basement, something…anything. I slowly stumble further into the cavern, exploring some to gain a sense of self...or maybe out of hope that I might find someone I know. The thick rock would keep out any radiation, and some company was tasked with creating metal rooms for us to eat, sleep, learn, and further occupy ourselves while we are trapped. I stepped into the mouth of the metal hallways crisscrossing the cave, when suddenly I heard screaming from behind me. I knew it was probably someone grieving over the information that a family member didn’t make it, but I whirled around to see the commotion. In the middle of the mob, I could see an arm high up in the air, as if preparing to strike, with several people around the figure, attempting to restrain it. The person was screaming and flailing; probably a side effect of some mental breakdown, I turned to continue down the hall. I took a step and then I heard another piercing screech, then another, then another. I quickly looked back at the mob and saw several half-crazed people attacking each other and screaming at the top of their lungs. A man in the crowd makes eye contact with me, his neck is covered in blood and his arms are restrained, yet he mouths the word “Run” before he is swallowed into a flurry of arms. I turn down the hallway and bolt towards the nearest door, immediately locking it as I enter. The metal door is heavy, but sturdy too. I am in a classroom, the wood and metal desks bring me back to my middle school years; the chalkboard looks as if it has not been used in ages. Interesting to place such a simplistic classroom in an advanced survival bunker, I think to myself before pounding at the door interrupts my thoughts. Then screaming- loud, crazed, screaming- follows. Several sets of hands beat and scratch at the door, clawing like animals at the edges to try to gain some purchase. Quickly, I pile up a few desks to add weight to the door and move to the back corner of the room. I press my back to the wall and slowly slide down it. I focus on my breathing, hoping to gain some solace from the creatures no further than a few feet away. The lights in the room go dark. Great, just great, I think to myself. I force my eyes to scan the room when I finally make out a person writing on the chalkboard. I strain my eyes harder and see my mother. She looks as if she is teaching a class. Suddenly, the seats are filled with students- faint, hard to see, students. I stand up and approach them. M-my classmates…my sister. They all made it, they’re here. Tears well up in my eyes and I run across the room to hug my mom; I go straight through her, smacking into the chalkboard. She continues to silently teach, and my friends silently learn. Silently. The noises outside have stopped. No more scratching, no more screaming. How long has it been? The clock in the room reads 7:06 PM, June 23rd . Th- that doesn’t make sense. It was the 20th when I entered the shelter… In a daze, I disassemble the barricade I had made and set the desks aside. Clumsily I unlock the door and pull it open. Four corpses lay at my feet, covered in varying shades of brown and red. Their fingers are coated thickly with blood and they no longer seem to have any nails at all. Most of them have several bite marks and missing skin along their arms and neck. I slowly tread down to the common area to see a mass of broken bodies stacked in a pile. All seem to have been killed by other people here and all look terrified. I- I cannot believe what I am seeing. All around friends, my classmates, sister, and mother, form a circle around me. “You left us,” “Abandoned us,” “You should have stayed,” “We are dead because of you,” they shout at me. Their arms tear at my shirt and skin until they overpower me. I flail around trying to escape their grasp, but in my haste, I slip, hit the ground, and everything goes black.