The bursts crashed above them as a steady thrum of deafening, severe explosions, all signifying grave destruction… and it rarely ceased. Huddled together for months, cooperating on rations, they all sensed it was coming to an end; one way or another, this was it. Either those bombs were going to stop dropping all around them or the food and water would be gone. Or maybe it would all just end in a flash of light.

Six of them together in a circle, leaned in towards each other, siting on squat wooden benches. The air was thick and warm and one small seam in the ceiling above let in just enough light for them to thoroughly appreciate their plight. There was a dust-filled fog surrounding them and every time the bombs came, the rumbling caused even more powder and other bits to fall down onto them. They breathed all this in and for months, they would try to brush it off their clothes; the cleaning ritual helped them remember the lives they once knew. Then, they no longer bothered.

Charlie broke the silence: “I say we draw straws or flip a coin. Figure out, one by one, who stops eating so that we at least give some of us… or maybe even just one of us eventually… a fighting chance.” Charlie was the youngest, the one with more life to guard. He had been youthful and bright at the beginning, but like their hopes, that too had waned over time. Still though, he spoke often and usually did so with authority and purpose. This annoyed the others, at first.

“Why, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it? We’re dead no matter what we do.” That was Vanessa’s contribution. Of course, that was always Vanessa’s contribution. Her long wavy, brown hair, once a source of pride and vanity, was now mottled, frayed, defeated.

Amanda added: “Charlie might be right. Maybe we have to start figuring out ways for some of us to try to outlast the bombing? We have to be practical about this. So, if we’re voting, that’s my vote.” Amanda’s hands shook steadily as she spoke. All of them met her for the first time on the day it began and so they wondered if she was ill or just nervous.

Alonzo argued: “Maybe we should go outside and take our chances? If we get killed instantly, then we go out trying, doing something other than sitting here counting crackers and sipping water from bottle caps.” Somehow, Alonzo looked nearly as he did on the day it began, other than the longer hair and beard. More than anyone else, he seemed to be under the illusion that this was all just business as usual, that life could go on somehow.

There was a pause in the debate. Alonzo started writing something on the dirt floor with a stick. Though they all tried, no one could read what he was writing. Perhaps it was just nonsense. Alonzo was prone to nonsense sometimes.

Then a boomer, as they called them, hit somewhere just above them. The entire shelter shook violently and loose dirt and gravel fell from above. They knew to bow their heads and keep their eyes and mouths closed until it settled. They had developed a routine for it.

After the pause: “I’m with Charlie. We need to stretch what we have, live to fight another day is what I say.” That was Taylor’s sense but she didn’t even need to say anything. Taylor, a middle aged woman with manic, dark hair and a perpetual scowl, always sided with Charlie no matter what.

Charlie, feeling emboldened by the emerging consensus among them, noticed that one of them was holding back and so asked: “What about you Diggs? You think we should change how we ration and figure out who stops eating? Give some of us a chance?”

Diggs, probably a former accountant or undertaker and still wearing his once expensive, but now heavily soiled, suit answered. “We’ve been here for a long time. The sounds out there are pretty scary and so we keep waiting for them to stop. We figure that when they stop, this thing will be over and we’ll be free. But what if it only means that we go out there and then face another kind of nightmare? Like becoming prisoners? Or we go out into a world with no food or water or shelter? What if sitting here in this hole together is the best we can hope for? What if this is it?”

The others looked at Diggs and made quick glances at each other. Most of them looked to Charlie to sort this out, to speak next, but it wasn’t Charlie who broke the silence.

Alonzo spoke: “Either we walk out into sunshine and there’s a banquet table full of food out there waiting for us… or it’s into some great apocalypse. Whatever. It’s been a true honor… and I actually mean this… staying here with all of you. You shared your stories, you made me feel better when I needed that, and you basically gave me a reason to live. But I live for another reason, a bigger reason, and so whatever is out there… it doesn’t really matter. It won’t change how I feel about all of you. And whatever happens, the best is yet to come. I’m sure of it. I’m not waiting. I’m stepping outside. And I’m ok, I’m really ok. It’s going to be better.”

As the others watched in bewildered silence, Alonzo stood up, glanced at them, and then walked down the hallway toward the exit. His frame faded into the darkness and then was gone.

Taylor looked over to Charlie and asked: “What do we do next?”