“Yes the… hmm. Please come with us. I’m going to trust you not to be any trouble from here on out. There are many things you probably need to know that make the world outside a very dangerous place. We do not wish you any harm if you wish none on us.”
I shrug. It’s not like I have many options. At least this way I might get outside. I am really craving a bit of fresh air and sunlight!
We make our way through the hallways, Rego’s feet thumping on the metal grates sounding exactly the way I expected it to; like someone with sledgehammers tied to their boots. He covers the rear, as Wyla walks behind me and this Secretary… Kraddock? Walks in front of me. As we make our way, the walls get cleaner and cleaner, until I can see a dingy lightbulb hanging from the ceiling ahead, signaling a better lit and., I guess, more inhabited section of this bunker.
“It is a bit hard to provide context, not knowing where you came from, but from your manner, and language, I’ll assume it is something at least a bit similar to our own story. We must still unlock what actually occurred to put you in that closet, but for the mean time I have a story that is as good as any, and will at least help you… tolerate what has happened.”
This doesn’t sound good.
We finally go up a few stair cases and come to a level with full–if somewhat makeshift–lighting. It is much cleaner, and has a lived in appearance. There are some bulletin boards, tools hanging on the walls in places, power cords running here and there. The lighting changes between various kinds of bulbs and even old-fashioned Christmas light-strings. There are people clearing from our path, some curious faces looking out. I can’t help but think of movies I’ve seen. These people look like a community of survivors after something very bad happened and they never got rescued. Never got help.
Secretary Kraddock continues
“So imagine that you were lying in your bed asleep. As you slept, something happened that no one could predict or prepare for. A storm came, seemingly out of nowhere. The clouds were red. This storm flashed with incomprehensible power, and changed things. Everywhere it struck, it altered reality. People were turned to stone. Or transformed. Unimaginable things grew, monstrosities emerged from the sky and fell upon us, only to be further changed by the storm, The earth itself rose up and fell down. This storm, this… Chaos… contact with it was unsurvivable. Many died. Many took shelter. Bunkers like this one provided some shelter. Some went underground and were still changed but… less so.”
He seems to gesture behind, perhaps to Rego?
“People had to stay in their shelters for a long time. It was, perhaps, thirty or forty years before the Chaos subsided enough to allow the first people to begin emerging and exploring what was left behind. That was, about a hundred years ago.”
I’m silent. Can this be true? I know it’s not possible.
“As for you… it may be that when the Chaos first broke the world, you were struck by it. Asleep, you had no idea that any of it happened. Maybe it jumped you into the future. Maybe it transformed you into a speck of dust and that closet is just where you ended up when the Chaos, for whatever reason, changed you back. It’s fickle, mysterious, and impossible to control or predict.”
Even as we walk and I know this story has to be nonsense, I see the signs of it all around. A woman we pass looks strange. Her skin is paper-white and her eyes are sunken, her unblinking stare unsettling to say the least. We pass what seems to be a classroom. Two of the children’s eyes are pure black. On the opposite wall there is art posted… finger paints from the children on crumpled, scavenged paper. Red. Red skies throughout. No suns. No rainbows. The pictures are filled with monsters. Some standing around stick figure bodies, more red, some holding hands with the smaller stick figures.
Kraddock gives me a moment to look, but seeing the growing alarm on my face, he urges me onward. I hear the kids whispering and giggling behind me as I go.
“This isn’t possible. When you talk about Chaos, you’re talking about… magic?”
“Magic. Maybe dreams set loose on the world? It makes little difference. We only need to know how to survive it. That’s something you’ll need to learn if you stay here.”
We pass another room. It seems like a primitive blood donation center. There are maybe twelve donors actively giving, and that fills only half the seats. There are stacks of blood-packs. In coolers of various sizes and colors throughout the room. It looks like a converted cafeteria. More prominently, only one of the three attendants is a “regular” human. Another is a pale man, like the woman I saw before, but with a black scar, looking almost like a lightning burn, going down one side of his face. The hand on that side is also charred black. The third attendant has a twitching tail, like a cat’s, but her feet are clearly hooved, one hand holding up the clip-board from behind features scales and claws. She looks up. Most of her face seems human but for the pitch black eye. Her bottom jaw and neck is also reptilian, and the upper left quarter is covered in brown fur and sports a horn. She smiles and reveals a pair of fangs.
My eyes widen as I rudely stare. Her friendly smile seems to falter at my shock and horror. Wyla urges me on and away from the scene, leaving the… person, a little confused and hurt at my reaction.
My gut starts to sink as I begin to know, deep down that this is real. I tell myself it could be a movie set. Make-up, special effects. They make some incredible prank shows now… I am torn between laughing and hyperventilating. We reach the top of one final staircase. I feel a breeze and see brighter light coming from the room beyond. Long worn down paint on the wall reads: GATE LEVEL.
I stop. They urge me onward. I keep looking for the cracks in the facade. I’m afraid to go outside and see that there are none.
“Almost there. Some fresh air will do you good.” Kraddock says
I laugh nervously. I joke, “After being in a closet for a hundred and fifty years I wouldn’t mind some sunlight!”
“I saw the sun, once!” Wyla blurts out. My forced smile fades as we reach the outside at last.
Red. The sky is a blanket of swirling red clouds. The compound itself is walled off but surrounded by massive, dilapidated skyscrapers on every side, as far as I can see down the horizon. Inside the wall are small huts, sheds, cabins, and a few larger buildings, with gardens and micro-farms covering most open space. Most of the people working are human, but not all.
“Welcome to Bunker-Town!” Wyla exclaims, proudly. Secretary Kraddock sighs, slightly more attuned to the chaos swirling around in my brain in this moment.
“And welcome to the Red City,” he says.
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