Erin

I’m woken by a loud, metallic grinding sound. I jump off my spot on the couch, where I must have nodded off in the night.

“What the hell is that?” I ask no one in particular.

There’s no answer, so I go toward the noise coming from the stairway into the bunker. The wailing starts up again, and I cover my ears as I walk up the stairs.

Derek turns to me, a spinning circular saw in hand. I give him an incredulous look as he presses the saw blade into the seam of the door.

The grinding sound continues as he runs the saw blade along every surface he can reach on the door. His biceps flex with effort, and his expression is determined.

“Derek!” I yell.

He turns off the saw and looks at me.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get the door open.”

“But…with that? You really think it’ll work?”

He shrugs. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Isn’t that door steel, though?”

“What’s going on up there?” Kenna cries, climbing the stairs to join us. “It’s seven a.m.”

Derek gives her a look. “Sorry for ruining your beauty sleep by trying to get us out of here.”

“Is it working?” she asks him.

“Not so far. But there are other power tools down here.”

“Let’s talk this out,” I suggest. “You could hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sitting back and waiting for that door to magically open when there’s stuff I could be trying to get us out.”

“Stuff that makes you bleed profusely won’t help us,” I point out.

“No one’s bleeding.”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Kenna says.

“Oh, really?” I glare at both of them. “Let’s have a look at that saw blade.”

Derek holds up the saw, which has a mangled blade. I give him a pointed look.

“I have to try, Erin. For Matias.”

My heart swells with emotion. I feel the same desperation to get Matias out of here.

“Okay,” I say softly. “But can you at least wear goggles? And gloves?”

“None down here. I’ll be okay.” He winks at me. “Now go make me some toast.”

I laugh as I walk back down the stairs. “Yeah, you just keep waiting for that toast, buddy. And don’t call me when you’re squirting blood all over the place.”

“I’ll make you some toast!” Kenna says as she walks back downstairs.

Of course. Kenna would walk through fire if she thought it would win Derek over.

Bryce walks out to the living room with pillow marks on his face. His white T-shirt is rumpled and stained yellow in the armpits. He’s zipping and buttoning his wrinkled khakis.

“What’s going on?” he asks me.

“Derek’s trying to bust us out with power tools.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Hey, did anyone give you plans for this bunker? So you’d know where to run the cables?”

Bryce gives me a half-asleep look. “Not that I remember. The walls are concrete, so the cables were gonna need to be run inside anyway.”

“Oh, okay. Makes sense. I’m just wondering if we could maybe find some spot where we could make even a small hole to the outside.”

He shrugs. “I can look around, but I think this place is solid concrete. We’d need a jackhammer.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

My shoulders drop with disappointment as I walk into the bunk room to check on Matias. He’s curled up, still sleeping. I quietly close the door so he can keep resting.

This is always a tough part of the day down here. When we all get up and the smell of brewing coffee fills the bunker, but there’s nothing to actually do. No job to get ready for and go to.

I brush my teeth, wash my face, and go back to the living room, picking up the medical book Derek left on the coffee table in front of the couch. Might as well learn what I can about Matias’s condition. It can only help.

By that evening, Derek has given up. The tools have all been packed up and returned to the storage room, where Matias was keeping them on the day we got locked in here.

It was Derek’s night to cook dinner, but I was so bored I gladly offered to do it so he could run. That seems to be his way of blowing off steam, and I can tell he’s frustrated that nothing he tried today worked.

“Looks good,” he says to me when he walks into the kitchen after his shower. I can’t imagine seeing anyone down here wearing anything but the only clothes I’ve ever seen them in, which in Derek’s case is a gray T-shirt and athletic shorts. The shirt is usually sweaty, but at least he showers.

“It’s rice with dehydrated carrots, corn, and dried beef,” I say. “I added a few spices too.”

“Better than what I would’ve made.”

Bryce helps Matias to the dining table, and we all sit down to eat. The rice has so much water in it that I don’t think it would be good for Matias, so I give him some dried fruit instead.

Matias eagerly gulps down the small serving of water Derek hands him. I think, from the expressions around the table, everyone else feels guilty about the full glasses of ice water in front of them.

We eat in bummed-out silence for a minute before Derek says, “Hey, why don’t we go around the table and all share something? How ’bout…the house you grew up in? Tell everyone about it.” He clears his throat. “I’ll, uh…go first.”

We all look at him as we dine on the sad meal I made. I’d kill for some fresh beef and buttered bread right now.

“It was just me and my dad growing up,” Derek says. “We had a three-bedroom house on the outskirts of Detroit.”

“You grew up in Detroit?” Bryce asks, surprised.

“For a while. We moved to Denver before I started high school so I could get into a good football program. But that house on Stanton Avenue is the one I think of as my childhood home. I played with all the neighborhood kids in the street out front all day every summer, till it got dark. Our house was pretty plain, just a white ranch. My bedroom walls were covered with football posters.” He smiles at the memory. “And there was this giant painting of a bald eagle in our living room. Dad was so proud of that damn picture.”

He turns to Kenna, who’s next to him. “What about you?”

She smiles at him. “I grew up in Skokie, Illinois. It’s near Chicago. My mom was a hair stylist, and my dad was a history teacher.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen Kenna be a normal person, without a chip on her shoulder or a sharp comment. She continues.

“We had an old two-story house downtown. I shared a room with my sister Carrie. I loved purple and she loved orange, so it was always a battle how to decorate.”

“Do your parents still live there?” I ask her.

“They do. I don’t think they’ll ever give up that house. They don’t really go upstairs much since all the kids moved out.”

“You have other siblings?” I ask.

“Another sister and two brothers.”

“Wow,” Bryce says, “one of five, huh?”

Kenna smiles. “Yep. You learn to stand up for yourself when you come from a big family. Whether it’s for your turn in the bathroom or the last pancake on Saturday morning.”

“I’m one of five too,” Matias says. “All boys. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but the place I remember best was a second-story apartment in…” He furrows his brow. “I can’t remember where that was. That’s weird.”

Brain fog is a side effect of chronic kidney disease, I read in the medical book earlier. I don’t know if Matias knows that, though.

“What do you remember about it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head and grins. “Sharing a room with all my brothers. The room had two double beds, so we’d always fight over who was going to be in the one with three of us. And my mom’s cooking. She made dinner every night, and I can remember her dividing the food up onto seven plates before we ate. She learned not to let five boys make their own plates, or somebody wouldn’t be eating.”

He looks so weak. It’s hard to see him like this, his eyes misty and his expression wistful. Clearly, he wants his mom right now, and who can blame him? It’s all I can do not to walk over and hug him.

“You?” Matias looks at Bryce.

“I was one of three kids,” Bryce says. “The only boy. Grew up near Phoenix. We had a little three-bedroom place with no air conditioning, and I remember sweating my ass off in summers. Playing lots of baseball too. I was raised by a single mom. She worked two jobs, so she wasn’t home much.”

“Did you guys do some of the cooking?” Derek asks him. “I know I did, when Dad was working late.”

“Oh yeah.” Bryce smiles at the memory. “I could make a box of mac and cheese with my eyes closed. Tuna sandwiches. Those canned Chinese food meals that came in two different cans. And of course, ramen.”

“I would have starved to death in college without ramen,” Kenna says.

“Chicken flavor was my favorite,” Bryce says.

He turns to me, and I set my fork down, taking a drink of my water before speaking. I hope no one pries too deep, because my childhood is a touchy subject for me.

“I grew up on my aunt and uncle’s farm,” I say. “Morrison Farms, it’s not far from here. I was so lucky. We got to ride horses, fish, climb trees, pick our own apples. They have a two-story farmhouse. And we also run a grocery store, so I’d work there a lot, starting when I was pretty young. I’d sweep the floor, wipe down the counters. I loved anything that made me feel like part of the farm and the store.”

“And you still work there?” Bryce asks. “Or do you just do the climbing tours?”

“I do the payroll, invoicing, and other bookkeeping for the farm. That includes the whole thing, even the store. I lead climbs on weekends and time off.”

Matias’s eyes are sliding closed. I meet Derek’s gaze across the table, feeling a warmth pass between us for a couple seconds before he says, “I’ve got cleanup tonight since you cooked for me. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Matias, are you up for a movie?” I ask. “We can move you to the couch and get you comfy.”

Even his smile is weak. “I’d be out in five minutes. I think I better go back to bed.”

I stand up. “I’ll walk you in there.”

Matias slowly stands, his gaze on Derek. “Hey man, don’t forget my next water.”

Derek turns to face him. “Promise. I’ll wake you up to drink it if you’re asleep.”

When we get to the bunk room, Matias sinks onto his lower-level mattress, and I cover him with a couple bath towels.

“I’m really glad…” He stops to yawn. “I mean, if I had to be stuck down here, I’m glad it’s with nice people. I wouldn’t want to go through kidney failure alone.”

“You’ll never be alone,” I promise him. “Get some rest, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Erin.”

I’m able to hold back the tears until I’m out of the room. But then, they slide down my cheeks. It’s brutal, seeing Matias’s body failing him. Just like he wants his mom, I feel a longing for my aunt and uncle.

I want to hug them both and thank them for every time they sat up with me when I was sick. I know they’d listen as I cried and told them how unfair it is that Matias is so sick. Even at twenty-six years old, they’re so important to me. Knowing they probably think I’m dead makes me heartsick.

I curl up on a corner of the leather sectional, thinking of them. A few minutes later, Derek sits down next to me. He seems to know I don’t feel like talking. But even sitting with him in silence makes me feel better. His presence is warm and strong and soothing.

Like Matias, I don’t want to be alone.