Let Me Tell You a Story About a Bunker

The three of us sat in the concrete bunker. Our living situation since the nukes fell a year ago. One year of sitting in a dark, concrete room under the ground, lit with a fluorescent tube that started flickering two months ago. Shelves stuffed with cans of beans and spam and bottles of water from a begone era where taps existed. The closet of a toilet, which began reeking about six months ago, being the only reprieve from having multiple sets of eyes staring at me, and us. The hum of the generator filling the air when awkward small talk about the same five topics were unable to.

I sat at the table while Alice looked over a gauge sticking out of the wall. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the numbers and needle as it moved.

“Guys... we need to get out of here!” She exclaimed!

“What?” Bob called back, emerging from the toilet. “Are you insane? Its irradiated outside!”

“Bob, we’re running out of air!” She pointed to the gauge.

Bob looked it over, then glared at Alice. “Oh, Alice, this thing is busted!” He replied. “Its been broken for several months now! See? If this reading is correct we should all be dead by now from monoxide poisoning!”

“News to me Bob.” She replied. “I’ve checked the air gauge daily, and its always been in the green range. Now it isn’t!”

“What do you mean? That stupid piece of junk has been showing red for at least three months!”

“No it hasn’t!” She gripped the edge of her nose.

I looked over to note the needle just in the red. Had it always been in the red? I don’t know, I haven’t been checking it that closely.

“Bob, we need to prepare to go to the surface.” She went on. “The air is going, and there’s only enough food for, like, another couple of weeks?”

“There is enough food and water to last us years, what are you on about?” He huffed. “We can hunker down for longer.”

“No, we can’t!” Alice pointed to the gauge.

“Its broken!”

The two stared at eachother, faces red from rage and wide from fear. Bob took a breath. “Look, I get it. Its cramped, dark, and I don’t ever want to taste beans again.” He placed his hands on Alice’s shoulders. “Its only been eight months - not long enough for the surface radiation to dissipate enough. We’re safer down here.”

“Bob, are you daft?” She shrugged him off. “Its been a year and a half. A little over the recommended cooldown time. The air will kill us in a few days if we don’t leave.”

“For one thing the cooldown time is two years.” Bob replied. “And we haven’t been down here for that long! We leave now, we die from radiation poisoning. Do you know how horrible that is, being liquified as the DNA in your cells get ripped up!”

“Suffocating is a horrible way to die too.” Alice walked towards the rusted ladder leading up to the hatch, sealed with a QAATD screwed tightly. “And... god, do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

I took a breath of stale air. I smelled faint oil smoke mixed with shit.

“That... chemical smell?”

“Are you insane?”

Alice gripped the first rung. “Remember we were taught that that smell is the air purifier failing?”

“What smell, and no... there is no indicator smell.” Bob rushed towards Alice, gripping her by the waist. “Now, get back here, your going to let the radiation in!”

“Let me go! Its been long enough, the shelter is failing!”

Bob looked right at me. “Kim! Get over here!” He commanded. “Help me subdue her! She’s going to open the QAWTD!”

I stood up. “I don’t know what to believe...” I said, finding my voice. As I found my thoughts I then asked “Which is the worst way to die?”

The two just glared at me. “Monoxide is painless.” Bob said. “Remember it’s a common way to commit suicide?”

“Starving is not.” Alice replied. “As is dehydration, or suffocation!”

“Radiation poisoning is absolute torture!” Bob argued. “It isn’t just to be a bit of cancer - you are going to be very sick! Nevermind the cold from nuclear winter!”

Alice struggled as Bob held her down. It didn’t take long before Alice elbowed Bob as Bob punched her in the face. I just stood there, unsure of whose side I should be taking.

We are all going to die one day. Its just a matter of when and how. If Bob was right we just needed to wait a bit longer to avoid one set of horrible death. If Alice was right, we needed to leave to avoid another set of horrible death.

The two struggled to the floor. Blood landed on the concrete floor as the light of the tube above us flickered again. I closed my own eyes as it dawned upon me: they both could be right. The shelter is failing, and its too irradiated to go outside.

Or they both could be wrong, and none of this matters.

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Written as part of the Let Me Tell You a Story series curated by Lillian Wong. More flash can be found here: https://letmetellthisstory.substack.com/