The Roe Report

            A sharp cry split the air between the rows of buildings before him. A flash of neon blue and a soft chestnut blend sprinted along the road. A Raider? No. Couldn’t be. The blue suit was gunning them down, letting slug after slug rip from the barrel of their gun – a 10mm pistol? – as a smaller, darker mass attacked from four legs. A dog. Its barks blended with the figures cries like a finely tuned symphony.

            And what a sound it was.

            Preston cranked his musket with more purpose. Quicker. Back to back he began to shoot, his electronic charges finding a home in the limbs of raider after raider. Before he knew it, the road was clear. Bodies littered the cement. And a blue suit stared up at him, that blood-stained pistol being used as a sun blocker as the dog sniffed a corpse. 

            “Up here, on the balcony!” Preston yelled. Even from three stories up Preston could spot a set of wide hips beneath the suit and the curves on her chest. A woman. “I’ve got a group of settlers inside. Raiders are almost through the door.” He pointed at the body sprawled out along the stairs next to the front door. Ronnie. “Grab that laser musket and help us, please!” 

            Preston didn’t know what to expect. Part of him wondered if she would actually come. If she would just turn right around and take off. Shit, if he was being honest, he’d probably do the same. But as he hurried back inside shoved his musket barrel through the small opening facing the lobby of the Museum of Freedom, he spotted that blip of blue through his sights. She was inside. She was helping. Stair after stair, raider after raider, she fought her way to the third floor. To him. To all of them.

            When the last Raider took his final breath, Preston unlocked the door for the mysterious woman. That strange, blue suit was unlike anything he’d ever seen. A vault suit. Her dog barked happily at her feet, panting and wagging its tail as it waited for the next task. Preston had to blink a few times. Pinch himself through the thick material of his duster. They were alive. They were actually alive. 

            “Man, I don’t know who you are, but your timing’s impeccable.” Preston smiled for the first time in weeks. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minuteman.”

            The woman smiled. Her teeth seemed to sparkle like the crystal-clear skin peaking from under her suit. “Kayla Vaughn.” She shoved her pistol into its holster and stuck out her hand. Her nails were painted black with splatters of blood. “Glad to be of service.”

            Eileen’s smile faded. She swirled her drink along the walls of her cup. “You weren’t assigned to a Casket.”

            Sam nodded. ‘None of us were.’

            Her heart dropped. “So, all of these people…”

            ‘Homeless.’ His lips moved against the rim of his cup. ‘One way or another.’

            Eileen’s eyes hovered over each sleeping bag around them. All of the young Robbers. The elderly. Eileen reached into her jacket pocket and clutched the woman’s locket tight in her palm. Rose, Sam had said. Her name had been Rose.

            Her blood began to boil. The Fall had been faked. The world-wide disaster made up for some unknown reason. But the idea that the government would just leave these people, these human beings, to fend for themselves while the rest of society fled underground… 

            “Your brother.” Eileen said. “Where is he?”

            Sam didn’t answer.

            “Sam?”

            ‘It’s getting late.’ Sam tilted his head back and downed the rest of his drink. He gave a tight smile and squeezed her wrist. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

            Only four of the Robber’s from Nashville tagged along after hearing their plan. The rest watched from the shattered office windows with dark expressions. It can’t be done, one of the elderly Nashville Robbers had said. Watch us, a younger one spat back.

            New Orleans was their next stop. Eileen wondered why Sam insisted on taking the longest possible route until she spotted another Robber base in the distance. He was trying to build their numbers. 

            Sam didn’t sit by the fire with her on the third night. She sat alone, watching the flames consume the logs they’d scrounged from a lumber yard a few miles out. She wondered how he would respond if she went to him. Apologized for asking too many questions. Apologized for the life he’d been forced to live. But she kept still, counting the sparks that flew from the pit as the night wore on. Eileen slept by the fire.

            Only three New Orleans Robbers agreed to help out of the fifteen housed there. Sam was frustrated. Angry. He shouted some words in the leader’s face until Eileen and a few others had to pull him away. He drove with white knuckles against the steering wheel the rest of the day.

            They bypassed Texas all-together and stopped in Oklahoma. The base was a larger than the others. Almost thirty faces stared back when they pulled up. A middle-age woman followed by two younger men stepped out into the sunset before their entire group had unloaded. She crossed her arms tight over her chest and gave Sam a hard stare.

            ‘Heard you’d be coming.’ She spoke slow, mostly out of the side of her mouth. Tattoos covered the length of both of her arms.

            ‘That’s too bad.’ Sam said. ‘Thought we’d get the element of surprise.’

            ‘Not this time.’ She nodded. ‘New Orleans radioed ahead. Said you’re taking down Houston.’

            ‘That’s right.’ 

            ‘Well, I’ll save you the time and the trouble, since you don’t got much of either left.’ She pointed back down the road they drove in on. ‘Haul it on over to Houston and shoot your shot. We’ll make sure and shake your hand if you manage to crawl back.’

            Sam shook his head. ‘Come on, Tammy, I think if we just-‘

            ‘If you think for a god damned second I’m sending my folk to the slaughterhouse, you’re touched in the head.’ Tammy charged forward until her nose nearly touched Sam’s. She was tall. Taller than any woman Eileen had seen on the surface. Their eyes were nearly level. ‘What you’re doing here is a noble goal. A noble one indeed. You know as well as I that The Ghost needs to answer for what he’s done.’ She shook her head. ‘But not like this. Not ‘till we have something up on them.’ 

            ‘This might be our only shot.’ The dimples in Sam’s cheeks flared. ‘Fifteen years we’ve sat on our hands. The time to act is now.’

            Tammy clenched her jaw. ‘I’ll remember that when I’m speaking at your funeral.’ She gave one last glare before spinning on her heels and trudging back toward her base. Through the window, Robbers of all ages followed her every step.

            ‘Tammy!’ Sam said. If Tammy said something, Eileen wouldn’t have known. But the middle finger she held up over her shoulder was loud and clear.

            They made camp in some place along Highway 35 north. Sam was hell-bent on finding at least enough to make up for their loss at Casket 017. He had one more base in mind. One more group that might be on board. No matter what happened there, he said, that was it. They would be heading through Texas state lines in two nights. 

            Eileen’s teeth were chattering after sundown. Her tent was great for blocking water but wasn’t much help for temperature. She pulled her sleeping back as tight as she could around her body and snuggled in further. Even with every shred of clothing still on her body it wasn’t enough. Her toes had lost feeling ten minutes ago. 

            She felt the zipper groan under her fingers as she pulled her tent flap open and gave their camp site a once-over. No one was awake. No one outside. Eileen tightened her sleeping bag over her shoulders and tip-toed across the grass to the small red tent a hundred feet away. Outside of the tent she paused, her mouth ready to speak but her words failing. What the hell was she doing? 

            “Sam.” She whispered. Damn it, Eileen, he’s sleeping. “Sam, it’s Eileen.”

            The tent moved. Shifted. Then, the flap came undone. Through the protective netting Eileen made out Sam’s chiseled jaw line and pink lips. ‘Eileen?’ Those lips said. ‘What’s wrong?’

             “I-“ She couldn’t control her jaw. Her teeth clanked together through her clenched jaw. “-too cold-“

             Sam undid the filtration netting and motioned for her to come in. Eileen slid in as far away from him as possible while he re-did the flap. ‘Guess you aren’t really used to the natural elements, huh?’ He had the flab on his ceiling undone enough so the moonlight could pour in. His teeth shone in the dim light.

            Eileen nodded. Already, her body began to relax. The tent was small enough that just having two bodies raised the temperature just slightly. It still wasn’t enough, though. “Casket’s never been lower than 69.” 

             The silence between them was tense. Her eyes drifted from his sleeping bag, to the moon, then back to him. He had himself propped up on his elbow, his bicep flexed from his weight. He was stronger than most. Fit. Lean. Many residents in the Casket were thicker and larger, mostly due to the lack of fitness equipment beneath ground. The swill they had been fed for years didn’t help much, either. 

            Her chattering must have been loud. Too loud. Loud enough for Sam to give one of his warm smiles and shift in his sleeping bag. ‘Eileen, if you want…’ He paused to lick his lips. ‘If you’re too cold and are okay with it, I mean, if you’re comfortable-‘

            “Yes.” Eileen nodded. He scooted to one side while she moved across the tent. “Yes, that’s just fine.”

             Had this been the whole reason she came here? She tried to convince herself otherwise as they lay beneath their sleeping bags, their arms wrapped around one another in a tangle of limbs. It was freezing, she said to herself with her nose pressed into his shirt. Just friends sharing body heat to survive. But she couldn’t deny the hints of pleasure that slipped up her spine when his fingers ran through her hair. His natural scent of engine grease and antique books enveloping her like a third blanket. His firm chest pressed against her own. It meant nothing. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

             In the morning, the drive was short. Six hours. They rolled through a town no larger than a few miles. Hundreds of acres of empty field surrounded its limits. It wasn’t like the other cities that Robbers took shelter in.

            “Where are we?” Eileen asked as they stopped on a gravel road. A single iron door sat in what appeared to be a small hill. The corner’s of Sam’s lips pulled. 

             ‘Home.’ He said.

             Sam did not knock. Didn’t hesitate. He typed a code into the keypad along the side and gave the door a firm yank. Eileen followed close behind. 

            A small staircase led to a large space – a bunker, Eileen realized. A high-tech, industrialized bunker. Similar to a Casket, but different in structure. There weren’t any floors. No lifts to take you places. A single hall went on for what seemed like forever, leading to different doors with funny symbols engraved into the material. Eileen slid her hand along the lit surface of some kind of command table. Shelves and shelves of antique books filled the walls. It was unlike anything she’d seen. 

             A man emerged from a separate room, a beer in one hand and a banana in the other. A fresh banana. Eileen couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten fresh fruit, let alone seen it with her own eyes. She licked her lips.

             ‘You’re back.’ The man said, shoving a huge bite of banana into his mouth. Eileen couldn’t understand his next words. 

            ‘Yeah, I know.’ Sam smiled. He nodded toward the hallway. ‘Where’s everyone?’

            ‘Out. Hunting for the week.’ The man darted his eyes over the people standing with them. ‘You bring some new blood?’

            ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Gray.’ Sam rolled his eyes.

            ‘What? Can’t a guy make an observation?’

            ‘You’re such a prick.’ Sam glanced down at Eileen and raised his brows. ‘Oh, Gray, this is Eileen. From Casket 017.’

            ‘The sole survivor, huh?’ Gray stepped toward them and took a long sip of beer. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and freed one hand to offer it in her direction. ‘Gray Evans. Pleasure.’ 

             Eileen nodded and gave his hand a firm shake. “Good to meet you.” She said.

            ‘So, what’s the deal, Sammy?’ He motioned for them to take a chair. Eileen pulled the one closest to her from the table and offered it to Archie. His smile was weak but it was there. ‘What’s all this talk between the GR bases about taking Ghost on?’

            ‘This is our shot, Gray.’ Sam jabbed his finger into the table. The others around him nodded. ‘We have the fire power here. We have the people. We take down the Ghost, we get everyone out of the Casket’s. Get things back to how they should be.’

             ‘That’s a real nice plan and all, Sam,’ Gray took another bite of his banana, smaller than before. ‘but that’s all it is. A plan. A god damn fever dream. Counting everyone we got here, we maybe have forty people. Against their fucking army.’

            ‘We can do this.’ Sam said. His face was like stone. ‘We need to. We’re the only shot this world’s got to live on.’

            Gray’s face melted into something softer. His eyes grew misty. ‘Sammy, if this is about Dean-‘

            ‘It’s not about fucking Dean.’ Sam slammed his fist into the table and stood. The entire table flinched. Eileen could feel his voice through the floor. Dean. ‘It’s about doing the right thing. It’s about saving lives, Gray. This is what we do. What we’ve done for fifteen years.’

            ‘For a world that couldn’t give less of a shit if we lived or died.’ Gray brought the beer to his lips.

            ‘Millions of people, Gray.’ Sam leaned over the table until he was in spitting distance of Gray. ‘You’re willing to let millions of people die because you can’t let a pre-Fall grudge go?’ Sam huffed a breath. When he spoke again, his voice felt quieter. Calmer. ‘The world before hated us. But that world is gone, Gray. The world now? To them, we’re the hero’s. We’re the one’s they’ll look to. Not Ghost. Not the fucking Undead zombies that he’s got brainwashed to do his bidding. Us.’ Sam motioned to everyone in the room. ‘These people here? They’re willing to fight. To die for the right cause.’ He stood up tall before the table. ‘Are you?’

            Gray was quiet. The rest of the banana disappeared into his mouth; the peel left on the table top. He chugged the rest of his beer and rose from the table. A long moment passed before he stuck out his hand.

            ‘You’re a dumb son-of-a-bitch, Sammy.’ Gray shook his head. ‘But I’ve followed you this far. And god dammit, I ain’t gonna quit on you now.’

            Sam clasped his fingers around Gray’s and pumped it up and down. ‘Then let’s gank this asshole.’

            Sam hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned they had the fire power. Eileen followed Sam down that never-ending hall into a separate space packed wall-to-wall with weapons. Shotguns. Heavily-modded melee weapons and automatic rifles. Sam reached into one trunk in particular and revealed a heavy-duty gun in his arms. The black paint twinkled baby galaxies under the fluorescent bulbs.

            ‘The Hell Hound.’ Sam ran his hand over the barrel. ‘Mother of all guns.’

            “What does it shoot?”

            Sam chuckled. ‘What doesn’t it shoot?’

            When the remaining Robbers returned with the meat, they held a banquet. The ‘calm before the storm,’ as Gray had explained it. Alcohol poured freely and endless plates of good food were served. Solid, fresh food. Fruits and vegetables, freshly picked from the indoor greenhouse further down the hall. Freshly cooked deer meat. Before she knew it, Eileen had gone through three full plates and four glasses of wine with hardly a thought. 

            They danced. They sang. They laughed and grinned and partied as if the world they knew was ending. Maybe it was. No one really knew what they were walking into. But, in the end, they would go down as heroes. The scum of the old world would be born again into something greater. And what an honor it would be. 

            Near the end of the night Eileen found herself under a blanket of stars, sipping a glass of ice water with her legs tangled in the grass. It would be a long drive for all of them tomorrow. The thought of possible defeat, possible death, hanging over all of their heads. But Eileen wasn’t afraid. For once, her mind was at peace. She would either stand above the Ghost with his blood on her hands or be left cold in the ground, her soul at peace wherever soul’s went alongside her mother and father. Either way, she would win. Either way she would be happy.

              A warm body collapsed into the field next to her. She looked up and smiled at Sam: a happy, glowing version of Sam. They sat as close as two bodies could get, their thighs and arms pressed against each other. A warm rush spread through her body underneath her clothes. ‘Got sick of the party?’ He asked. That damn smile. 

            “Something like that.” Eileen took a sip of water. “Had to see the sky one more time. I’ve gone so long without it. Might as well enjoy it.”

            Sam nodded and looked toward the sky. ‘I’m sorry.’ He said. When their eyes met she saw something heavy between the hazel hues. 

            Eileen raised an eyebrow. “Why are you sorry?”

            ‘The other night.’ Sam said. ‘When you asked me about my brother. I sort of just…shut down.’

             “You don’t say?” Eileen teased. When he rolled his eyes she barked out a laugh. “We all have our demons. It’s fine.” 

            Sam looked to the stars like they were an old friend. ‘He died protecting me.’ He said. He scuffed his boot into the dirt. ‘Five years ago. I was careless during a Catacomb sweep and turned my back on an Undead. Came out of no-where. The fucker put that gun to my head and he just-‘ Sam closed his eyes.

            “Your brother.” Eileen said. “He was the man Gray mentioned at the table. Dean.”

            ‘He didn’t-‘ Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘That should’ve been me.’

            “Hey.” She grasped his chin and turned his head until their eyes met once again. She swiped her thumb across his cheek, over the smooth skin stretched over his cheekbones. He leaned into her touch. “You can’t think like that. He died for a reason. He loved you that much to step in front of the gun.” Eileen smiled. “Dean is a hero, Sam. Just like you.”

            His entire face lit up in the darkness. He pushed away just enough to cross his legs and face her. He held his hands out in front of him and smirked. What the hell was he doing? “Sam?” She set her water down in the grass and turned toward him. “Are you alright?”

            He didn’t say anything. Instead, he started moving his hands. Slow, messy movements. Clumsy. ‘I am no hero.’ He signed. Eileen’s heart pounded in her chest.

            ‘When did you learn sign language?’ She signed back. She wasn’t even ashamed of the grin stretched across her cheeks.

             ‘I had Rose show me some.’ Sam signed. He matched her grin. ‘While you sat in the State Home.’ He messed up the sign for ‘house.’ Eileen giggled.

            ‘Not bad.’ She nodded. ‘What else did she show you?’

            Sam ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his jaw. For a moment he looked nervous. Eileen swore she saw his fingers tremble just slightly under the moonlight. ‘You are the strongest woman I have ever met.’ He signed. Eileen’s hands slowly fell to her lap. ‘Beautiful, kind, passionate. I have only known you a short time and I know this.’ Her eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. ‘If we die tomorrow, I want you to know this:’ He mouthed the words as he signed them. ‘Thank you for bringing light to my world.’

            It was like the air was sucked out of her lungs. He watched her every move, every twitch on her face. Followed the tear that slid down her cheek. When Sam reached with this thumb to wipe it away, her entire soul set on fire. 

            They moved at once. No hesitation. No doubt. They knew what they wanted. Their lips crashed together with the force of a hundred tsunamis, with the passion of a thousand lovers. Every movement was in synch. Their mouths. Their wandering fingers. Their hearts. Every touch, every shared breath, every tangle of their tongues. He pulled her into his lap and she felt him gasp under his thin T-shirt. She could picture the sound in her mind. Beautiful. Desperate. Hungry. His fingertips burned against her skin and it was the sweetest pain she’d ever felt. 

            They explored one another beneath a sea of stars. Goosebumps formed along her skin but not from the cold. His lips explored every part of her, every part he could reach and even further. Until she was putty in his capable hands. Until stars danced behind her eyelids. They gave each other everything underneath the midnight moon. Every broken piece, every hole within them was filled with affection. Scars were kissed and worshiped like a god. They came together and fell apart until their skin shone with sweat like dew in the grass. Until the only thing Eileen could think about was the way Sam’s lips felt against her own. Sam. The low-light casting a halo over his chestnut locks. An angel. Eileen pulled her angel toward her and brought him to her heaven one more time.

            They lay in the weeds, their clothes scattered all around and their arms around each other. She tangled her fingers into his hair and whispered quiet words of love against his lips that only Sam and the stars could hear. They watched the stars fade into the sky as the sun began to rise. And for the first time since she stepped foot out of her Casket, Eileen felt something she never thought she’d experience again.

            Eileen felt alive.

             It was a twenty-six-hour drive to Houston from Boston. At least. Tents, blankets, food and water enough for thirteen were packed into one of the truck beds and tied down with tarps. They would take SW’s truck and one of their ‘evacuation buses.’ Eileen sat shotgun beside him while the school bus followed in their dust. She could fell a steady hum of music through the truck’s speakers. Something gentle, yet upbeat. She made up melodies to the rhythm in her head to pass the time.

             On the first night, they set up camp somewhere near the edge of New York. They built a fire and passed around canned provisions for dinner. The SPAM reminded her of the slop from the 012’s dining hall. She passed it on after one bite.

            Eileen slept for the first time in six days. In her dreams her mother smiled at her. Her father sat at the dinner table of their home before the Fall and told them about the dirt-bag criminal he had to lie for that day. Two hours later she was back out by the fire, throwing more wood into the flames until they licked every piece. She watched them dance and twirl underneath the moon.

            At some point SW crawled out of his tent and made his way to the fire. He sat down a few feet away and poked the wood with a stick. 

            “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” She asked.

             ‘Could say the same about you.’ 

             Eileen shrugged. “Me and sleep haven’t been getting along recently.” SW poked the fire for a few minutes before speaking again. ‘I get it, you know.’

             Eileen raised an eyebrow. “Get what?” 

             ‘What it feels like to, you know,’ He wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘Lose family.’

             Eileen didn’t answer. She pulled her knees to her chest and bounced her stare from him to the fire.

            ‘I never met my mom. Died when I was an infant.’ His chest heaved with a sigh. ‘My dad, he – he wasn’t really the nurturing kind. Wasn’t much of anything, really. My older brother basically raised me. Us against the world, you know?’

            Eileen let her legs slide away from her chest just a bit. “Where was your father?”

            ‘He was around sometimes, he just…’ He furrowed his eyebrows like the memory pained him. ‘He was just too busy for us. Was always focused on some new project. Never could stay in one place. Never found us a permanent home.’

            She relaxed her shoulders and turned toward him. The fire danced in his eyes. “You never had a home?”

             SW smirked. ‘If you count cheap motel rooms then, yeah, had lots of them.’

            Snippets of her own home before Casket 012 flashed in her vision. Three bedrooms, two baths. The window over-looking the neighborhood above her bed. The red velvet loveseat in the living room her father insisted they keep. The block parties every other month. To not have that, to not have some sort of sense of permanent belonging. Eileen would have rather felt it and lost it than to have not had it at all.

            She pushed herself closer to SW until her hand could reach his own. Their eyes met over the heat of the flames. “These people care for you. They are your family.”

            He nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘They are.’

            They sat that way for a while, their hands joined beneath the half moon. It was such a simple comfort. Something, Eileen realized, she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. When the fire began to dim they broke apart and slowly made their way back to their tents. She offered one last smile over her shoulder. 

            “Goodnight, SW.” She waved. He grabbed her shoulder before she was halfway to her tent.

            ‘Sam.’ He said, his lips hardly visible in the fading light. ‘My name’s Sam.’

             Eileen smiled to herself as she crawled into her sleeping bag.

             Sam.

            A day passed. Then another. SW brought her food. Sat beside her and held it until the steam was gone. Every few hours. From sun up to sun down, and every time in between. Round the clock. Every time she thought he’d give up. Every time he’d prove her wrong. Every time. 

            Eileen stayed awake for three days. Three days. She watched every pattern of the sun and moon. Counted the stars. Didn’t move a single inch. 

            On the fourth day there was no sunrise. No rolling waves of white foam against blue. Just dark clouds and rain. Pounding, sheering rain. She could feel the thunder roll through the couch’s arm rest. Every pulse, every roar. When she closed her eyes she saw the cave. The Cap. 

            When she opened her eyes the rain was gone. Replaced by a pair of legs. Pleated-type pants. A baggy sweater. Snow white hair. The woman studied Eileen from above. Her wrinkles moved with every twitch of her eye. She’d seen those eyes. The same eyes that couldn’t stop rolling in the backseat of SW’s truck. 

            The woman moved her hands in front of her. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She signed. Signed. Something inside Eileen’s chest stuttered a bit. Her heart. It took every ounce of strength she had left to lift her own hands.

            ‘You know sign language?’ Eileen signed.

            The woman smiled. ‘Yes.’ 

            She relied on the arm rest to help her sit beside Eileen. She lowered slowly. Inhumanly slow. They watched the rain fall against the row of windows for a few minutes before the woman began to sign again.

            ‘Did you understand my first statement?’ The woman signed. 

            ‘Yes.’ Eileen signed.

            ‘Repeat what I said.’

            Eileen sighed. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

            The woman nodded.

            ‘I should have been there.’ Eileen signed while staring straight ahead. Her hands lowered to her lap. She should have been there. 

            Something pricked her forearm. The corner of an old photo. Faded of most color. Eileen held it in both hands and studied it. Two grinning families were huddled together in front of a children’s park. Two sets of parents with seven children of all ages. The two women in the photo stood in the middle, one of their arms around each other while the other held their respective child. Even through the fade Eileen could see they were near identical. She looked to the elderly woman for an answer.

            ‘My family.’ The woman signed. She pointed to the two blondes in the middle. ‘My daughters. Twins.’

            Eileen nodded. ‘They’re beautiful.’

            ‘Were.’ The woman offered a sad smile. ‘They were beautiful. They all were. Until they retreated to their Casket during the Fall and I stayed behind.’ The woman’s eyes met the ground. ‘Now all that’s left is their Casket number on that terminal over there.’

            Eileen blinked. ‘I’m sorry.’ Eileen signed.

            ‘I was just like you, once.’ The woman signed. ‘Numb to the world. Lost. Hopeless. I wanted to curl up and wither away.’ She pressed her finger to the photo and gave her a hard stare. ‘But they wouldn’t have wanted that for me.’ She mouthed the words now. Eileen’s eyes began to sting. ‘Neither of our families would. We continue to live for them.’

            “How can I?” Eileen whispered. The woman caressed her cheek. “How can I live without them?”

            Something shifted in the air. Something harder. Darker. It hardened the woman’s soft eyes and weighed on Eileen’s shoulders. ‘We fight those who took them away.’ The woman held Eileen’s face with both hands. Wrinkled, weathered hands. ‘We fight the evil that plagues the Earth.’

            “Who is the evil?”

            ‘You know who.’ 

            Eileen had very little hatred for anyone. She got it from her mother. Don’t become that which you despise, she used to say. Her father had been the exact opposite. The world was his nemesis. There was evil inside of everyone; a demon just waiting to crawl from the depths. He used to tell a much different story: Protect yourself and your own. No matter the circumstance.

            The Fall was a scam. The Casket’s were nothing but death traps. Everyone she had ever cared for now cold beneath her feet. Eileen didn’t know the why, the how, the gain or what any of it meant. But she did know who.

            Her knees were anything but sturdy when she rose. A newborn foal just brought into a nightmare. The woman stood in the corner of her eye. She caught a hint of something glowing from her cheeks. Pride. Eileen felt her stare through the back of her head long after she stumbled down the stairs.

             Eileen found SW outside of the State House. They were loading bags of equipment into the bed of his truck. He was cocking the barrel of a matte black shotgun when their eyes met. His bulged. Hers narrowed. SW shoved the shotgun into some Robber’s hands next to him and met her in the middle. ‘You’re up.’ He said.

            “Where are you going?”

            He licked his lips. ‘Your Casket.’ He said. He rubbed the back of his neck. His fingers were caked in mud. ‘We usually go in sooner so it might already be shut up by-‘

            “I’m coming.” 

            Eileen was ready for a fight. Ready to stand there and yell until she was blue in the face. Instead, he nodded. ‘Alright.’ He said. Alright.

            All hands were on deck this time around. Recon missions required bodies, SW had said. Bodies and bullets. They packed into the trucks and headed back out to the edge of town, the rain pounding against the truck’s casing so hard she felt every drop through the window. They rattled and tore along the broken road until SW slowed to a near standstill about a mile out. Eileen had to do a double take. In the distance stood three military vehicles. Pre-Fall S.W.A.T. vans, from the looks of it.

            “Are those… police?” She turned to SW.

             ‘Worse.’ He rolled down his window and motioned with his hand toward her Casket. A few Robbers from the bed of each truck hopped to the dirt and crouched through the weeds. SW jumped out, but left the truck running.

            “Worse?” Eileen asked no one. Her door opened and she was greeted by SW with a combat shotgun.

            ‘Don’t miss.’ He said.

            Her hair and clothes soaked through within seconds of stepping outside. They waded through the field in small groups. Eileen huddled close to SW. To her right, she met the elderly woman’s eye from the State House. Her sniper rifle looked ridiculous clutched in her tiny arms. ‘For our families.’ She signed. Eileen nodded.

            ‘For our families.’ 

            There were seven men that Eileen could see. Three of them armed with rifles, one carrying a sniper. All of them were wrapped in thick, matte-black armor. Their helmets reminded Eileen of the World War I photos in her history book. One man emerged from the wreckage with a device in his hands. He was wearing thin, light-weight armor. Some sort of tech-collector. He wasn’t armed. 

             SW looked to the Robber crouched two hundred feet across and motioned toward the farthest van. Two armored men leaned against the side with their backs to them. They closed in through the thicket and waited. A few more hand motions and SW had another two groups ready by the second furthest van. He moved until their shoulders were pressed against each other and pointed at the closest van with silent direction. Eileen gave a firm nod. They set up in their positions.

            For a moment, Eileen was worried that the men would hear her heart beat. It shook her entire body, beating out of her chest. Her knuckles were sheet white against the shotgun. Her fingers screamed from how tight she was clutching the butt. She’d shot a gun a few times in her life. All before the Fall. Over fifteen years ago. Shotguns weren’t that much different than a hand gun, right? Right. She could do this. For her family. She sucked a gulp of air in through her nose and waited for the signal.

             A long minute passed. SW raised his palm for everyone to wait. Another minute. He dropped his hand. The Robber’s charged.

            The van they surrounded only had one man near it. Eileen raised her gun with trembling hands and cocked the barrel before pulling the trigger in his direction. She saw the white of his eyes before the powder from her shell pounded into his bare arm. He shrunk back and pointed his own rifle in her direction. SW had him on the ground in a second with his shotgun at his temple. The grass dripped with hot, crimson red. The rest were taken down with hardly any struggle. When the field was cleared the Robber’s looked at once another. Was it always this easy?

            SW screamed something and pointed in the distance toward the rubble. 

            Footsteps rumbled in the distance. A force enough to make her feel it from where she stood. At least twenty men wearing the same armor as those from before, all of them packing some kind of heat. One stood in front of the others, gripping the butt of his gun with one hand and a second handle with the other. Eileen swallowed. It was an assault rifle. 

            She flattened herself out into the weeds, shimmying as quick as possible to the van. Dirt shoved its way under her fingernails as she clawed the ground. Pulling. Reaching. Until she used one of the tires to hoist herself into a sitting position with her back against the van. She panted. Wrapped her arms around her shotgun. Bullets showered along the other side of the van like the rain spitting from the sky. It was hard to tell which was which. 

            The second shower against the car stopped. Eileen peeked her head around the van’s grill. Just a peek. Just in time to watch the elderly woman with the sniper rifle take a round of bullets straight on and hit the ground.

            “No!” Eileen charged out from behind the van and took off in a full sprint toward him. The man hadn’t seen her yet. Was too busy lining up the final kill shot to end the woman’s life. His had his finger curled around the trigger when Eileen drilled her shotgun’s butt into his cheek. She felt the bone crack through the gun. He stumbled back a few steps while she cocked her gun. She took aim right at the exposed flesh of his neck.

            “See you in hell, asshole.” She muttered before pulling the trigger. Flecks of his blood dusted her face before he collapsed to her feet. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. She put one more in him just in case. Bastard. 

            The woman was nearly unconscious. Chest hardly moving. Blood seeped through her sweater’s thick fabric from the bullet wounds. Eileen checked the surroundings. Nearly half of the men had been dealt with. SW was handling the one with the assault rifle. The rest were being handled by other Robbers. It would have to be safe enough.

            Eileen pulled the woman’s sweater up from her stomach. So much blood. So much. Too much. It needed to be cleaned immediately. “We need to get your wounds cleaned.” Eileen said. She slung her shotgun over her shoulder and slid her arm beneath the woman’s knees. “I can carry you there.” She tucked another arm under her broad shoulders and lifted with every amount of strength she had. She hardly got her five inches off the ground before her body fell again. The woman was complete deadweight.

            Weak fingers grabbed Eileen’s arm. The woman opened her eyes and quirked her lips in the corner. She shook her head.

             “I’m not leaving you here.” Eileen said. 

            She shook her head again.

            “I won’t-“ Eileen looked up again. SW had finally ripped the assault rifle from the man’s hands and was taking him down beneath his knee. “I can’t-“ The woman lifted her hand slowly to her neck. With the weakest of tugs she moved her sweater collar until a silver chain appeared around her throat. She took a long, slow breath and snapped it from her neck. She held it out for Eileen to take. ‘For our families.’ She mouthed one final time. Eileen took the necklace and the woman breathed her final breath. It was then that Eileen realized she never even knew her name.

            Something inside of her snapped. Her veins burned with a fire unlike anything she’d ever felt. The Caskets. The lies. Thousands of deaths for senseless reasons. No more. She gripped the woman’s necklace in her palm until the edges of the heart charm pierced her skin.

            SW had moved on front the assault rifle and had moved on to taking down a shotgun. His back was turned from the Casket for a moment too long. Eileen fumbled for the dead woman’s sniper as a second gun aimed at SW’s head. She kept a steady eye through the scope and locked onto her target.

            “SW!” She yelled out her only warning before firing. She watched the bullet drill a hole through his forehead until she saw light from the other side. The second gun flew through the air and the corpse blew back from the force. SW heard her warning and ducked just in time to miss the second bullet. It found a home in the soldier’s neck. 

            The field in front of the ruins of her Casket was quiet. Bodies lay all around. Blood painted every face. Shells crunched under every step. Those who were still alive stood above the dead. Less than half than they had started with. Archie was the only one alive who remained crouching. He held a body to his chest and sobbed to the sky. 

             Eileen walked until Casket 017 was under her boots. She stared down at the mess and pictured her life before. The reactor level. Her family’s quarters. The dining hall. The lift. Mapped it out one final time. 

            A tall body stood next to her. Waited for her to say something. 

            “The Ghost will fall.” Eileen said. 

             His reign would end.

             Eileen sat in the cab beside SW as they headed into town, the suspension bouncing with every unkempt pothole and crack they hit on the pavement. Every time the truck lurched it would send Eileen bouncing either into SW’s shoulder or slamming into the door. She was going to have bruises after this.

              Even with all three of the trucks being four-door, it wasn’t enough to hold the entirety of the Robbers. From what Eileen gathered, the elderly took the seats while the younger sat in the truck beds. Behind SW and Eileen sat two older men and a woman on the driver’s side. The balding man in the middle kept fussing over the dirt coating the other man’s neck while he attempted to swat his hand away. The woman seemed unable to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head.

            ‘Rudy, Jesus, leave him alone.’ SW said after ten minutes. ‘Keep it up and Archie’ll leave you for that hunk we met over in Kansas City.’

            ‘Already considering it.’ Eileen read the Archie’s lips through the passenger mirror. He pressed his forehead against the window and sighed. ‘At least he knows what personal space is.’

            The once proudly lit Boston city scape was now completely dark. Not a single window shone. Store signs hung bleak over abandoned stores. Cars were strewn half-hazard over the divider lines from the hasty evacuation during the Fall. Cracks in the street gave way for patches of grass and weeds to grow through the rusted car frames. SW did his best to weave in between until the cars created an almost barrier from the rest of the city. SW parked the car and opened his door.

            ‘Follow me.’ SW said to her. Eileen nodded. ‘And stay close.’

            They walked as a group down the sidewalk, bunched shoulder to shoulder. Eileen kept close to SW near the front, the eldest of the Robbers walking close behind. Eileen couldn’t help her gaze from wandering from the path. Broken windows lined the empty skyscrapers looming above, the setting sun reflecting a growing purple-red haze from those still in-tact. They walked past one shop that Eileen recognized: a small, local bakery that she and her mother had visited a few times. They would stop in for a treat whenever her father would have something tailored at the little shop across the street. Which meant the building above must be the Wells Fargo tower. 

            “This is Court Street.”

            SW nodded. ‘Another half mile and we’ll be at base.’

            “Where’s base?”

            The Old State House.

            Still as tall and proud as Eileen remembered. While all the buildings around her crumbled, she remained. Not a shingle out of place. They crowded around the East entrance and SW held the door.

            ‘Welcome to GR Base 7.’

            Most of the original furniture still remained. The couches. The cabinets. Even the display case holding John Hancock’s clothes stood in-tact. Eileen followed SW up the spiral staircase and to a separate room of terminals that hadn’t been there before. Most Robbers went their separate ways. SW pulled a chair from a desk in particular and motioned for her to sit.

            He reached over her shoulder and tapped the keyboard. The screen blinked to life. He scrolled the cursor through a list of options until it stopped on one: the Catacombs.

            “The Catacombs?” Eileen asked. She looked to SW for an answer. His lips didn’t move.

            When she selected the option, an entire new list appeared. Dozens of selections organized by date. Casket 067; Casket 092; Casket 113; Casket 043. Her cursor stopped on one in particular. Casket 022.

            Before the Fall, each house received their Casket assignment in advance. Everyone was placed by district, selected by city. Eileen’s best friend in school had lived across the city. Charlie. One of the last times they’d spoke was swapping Casket numbers. Eileen was 017. Charlie was 022. Eileen hovered over Charlie’s Casket and clicked on it.

            Her heart stopped.

            The first photo was of a field. Like the one in front of her own Casket. But instead of a large dome-shaped hill between the weeds, a pile of rubble stared back. No cave, no dome, just heaps of iron and pillows of dark smoke. Nothing but a gaping hole.

            “No.” It wasn’t possible. The Casket’s were indestructible. Perfectly sound. She clicked on the next picture. A closer shot. Eileen could see bits of the surface level control panels peaking through the wreckage. The edge of the Cap just barely jutted out from the hole. It was all gone. Destroyed. And everyone inside. Charlie…

            “No-“ Her fingers fumbled with the keys until the screen flipped back to the list. She selected the next down. Casket 086.

            Gone.

            Casket 051.

            Gone.

            Casket 103.

            Gone.

            Thousands of people. Gone. Dead. Innocent lives. Wasted. They told them that the Casket’s were their new home when instead they were filing them into their own graves. The true Catacombs.

            “The Caskets-“ Eileen breathed. Through her hazy eyes a tear slid down her cheek. Dead. Families. Children. Grandparents. “All those people…” She felt a hand press into her shoulder through her jacket. A slight squeeze. Reassurance. It was useless. The time for reassurance had passed. She pulled the jacket lapels tighter around her until it nearly strangled her. The jacket. Her mother’s jacket. Her family. Her Casket.

            The chair flew out from under her as she shot up. It was too hot in the State House. Too hot inside her clothes. A line of sweat formed around her neck like a noose. Breath. She needed to breath.

             “We need to go.” Eileen said. Loud. A few Robbers in the next room turned to look at her as she stormed down the stairs. The steps trembled under her soles. The railing shook under her palm. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle just as a set of fingers gripped her wrist. SW.

            ‘Eileen-‘

            “We need to go back.” Her voice cut raw from her throat. He visibly flinched. “My family. My Casket. We need to get them out.”

            Only a few Robbers came this time. The buses they had set aside for evacuations weren’t ready. After 15 years of silence no one thought a Casket would respond. Most stayed back to get them up and running. Eileen sat on the edge of the truck’s front seat, pushing SW to drive faster with every mile. Seventy miles per hour. Eighty. Ninety. It wasn’t fast enough. Nothing would ever be fast enough.

             Through the fading sunlight she spotted a dome in the distance. The Casket. Eileen let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Thank God.” She muttered. SW smiled at her form the corner of her eye. That warm, open smile.

             He followed in her footsteps left in the dirt. Her jacket blew behind her. There had been a time she had run track for her high school. Now, her legs felt like Jell-O after only a few hundred feet. She ripped that rotten wood door away and took off down the cave. The Cap twinkled in the sunset light. Almost there. Almost there…

            The world trembled. Shook beneath her boots. Shook and trembled until she staggered on her feet. Until she leaned against the cave walls for support. The boulders shifted. They vibrated. They roared beneath her fingers in their silent fury. Dust sputtered from above. Shards floated into her hair. What was happening? What was happening? 

            She charged forward, scaling the wall for support. A crack split the ground a distance in front of them. Her fingers gripped the walls so tight she was sure they were bleeding. Shudder. Crack. Roar. She’d only been gone an hour. Shudder. Crack. Roar. Barely an hour. Roar.

            Fingers pulled her, tore her from the wall. Eileen screamed. Swore. Fought. Resisted until she ran out of air and continued even then. The Cap shrunk through the blur. Shrunk. Roar. Crack. Her skin burned. Fire. Heat. Fury. Gasping for breath. Her mother. Eric. Roar. Shudder. The chrome door bent outward near the middle. Her Casket. But the fingers kept pulling. Pulling her away. Away from her home. 

            She tore from the fingers. Freed. She stumbled and fumbled toward the Cap. They needed her. Roar. She needed them. The dirt below turned until she hit her knees. Turned until a crack split between her legs. Between her palms. The fires of hell burned between the edges.

            Arms around her waist. Her feet left the ground. Her legs kicked. She clawed at skin. Anything. Let me go, she screamed. Let me go. She screamed at the back of that wood door. At the split dome. The crumbling cave. Shudder. The cracks gave way. Into the hole. Dirt and boulder alike. All into the hole. All at once. A waterfall. Dumping on itself. No, she screamed. Her lungs needed air. No, demanded it. Her cheeks pulsed. Burned. Like the fires between the cracks in the Earth. There was nothing left. Gone. Another entry on a terminal. Casket 017. She crumbled to the Earth through the arms holding her. Just like Casket 017. Just like Casket 017.

            Her mother. Father. Grave Diggers. Families she’d known her entire life. Buried. Lost. Everything she’d known. Gone.

            Eileen buried her face in the grass. As deep as she could possibly go. 

            And she cried.

            The last Friday of the month always called for celebration. Most Grave Diggers met in the dining hall for a drink, sometimes two, if one of the braver Digger’s could smuggle extras from the kitchen. Eileen couldn’t face them all. Not right now. It was hard enough working among them during the week, but sharing a toast with them for a ‘job well done’? For all she knew, it could be their last end of month gathering. It could be their last night with families. It could be their last moments spent breathing in this lifetime. And it was all thanks to her and that god damn terminal.

            On her way out of the reactor room, she shrugged out of her lab coat and draped it over one of the control panels. She stared at it for a long time; memorized every stitch, every crease, every faint stain resembling a memory of long nights walking these halls. A Grave Digger’s job was to protect the Casket. To keep everything in working condition. To make sure their future was secure underground. Instead, Eileen had put everyone at risk. Including her family. Even if nothing were to come of any of this, she wouldn’t be able to hold the Grave Digger title after knowing what she’d done. She couldn’t. She strode to towards the lifts without looking back. But there was one more stop she needed to make before heading to the surface level.

            Her mother’s head snapped up from her sketchbook at the sound of the door and a warm smile split her face. She stood from their kitchen table and kissed Eileen on both cheeks. ‘How was your day?’ She signed. Eileen’s chest tightened.

            ‘Fine.’ She lied. She forced a tight-lipped smile. ‘Uneventful. Have to get ready for the Digger’s Dive.’ 

            ‘End of the month already?’ Her mother shook her head. ‘Can hardly tell the time down here anymore.’

            She dug around in her closet for five minutes before finding something suitable. An old pair of hand-me-down jeans that she’d dug out of the community clothes pile a few years back. A pair of military boots that she used to wear constantly before the Fall. A baggy flannel that she couldn’t remember for the life of her how she’d gotten. And to top it off, the forest green jacket her mother had given to her years ago. She rolled the flannel’s sleeves over the jacket’s cuffs and slipped her father’s utility knife into her pocket just in case. 

            ‘Have a good time.’ Her mother signed from the table. She was back to sketching patterns in her notebook. ‘We’ll probably be asleep when you get home.’

            ‘That’s fine.’ Eileen signed. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ The lights in small room blurred. She blinked a few times to soothe the burn. 

            She should’ve known her mother would notice something. She always knew. Her smile melted into a mass of creases as she rose from her chair. ‘Eileen, honey,’ she spoke now, her hands pre-occupied with holding her shoulders. She tilted her chin up to look at her. ‘Are you alright? What’s wrong?’

            Her father glanced up over the brim of his glasses from their bed. His book was clearly the last thing on his mind. He removed his glasses and went to stand up.

            “I’m fine.” Eileen said. Her father stopped mid-rise. “Everything’s fine. I just-“ She rubbed the ache from her eyes away with her hands and scoffed. “-I’m just happy that we are all together down here. I forget how lucky we are sometimes.” Her father slowly sat back on the edge of the bed. “I just- I love you both. So much. I just want you to know that.”

            ‘Oh, baby,’ her mother smiled up at her. She had shrunk over the years. Eileen could remember when she had to tilt her head to meet her mother’s eyes. Now, she could see the grey hairs weaved between strands of read on her mother’s scalp. She took both of Eileen’s hands and held them to her chest. ‘We are so proud of you. Of everything you do. Not only as a grave digger, but as a woman.’ A tear slid down Eileen’s cheek and her mother wiped it away with her thumb. ‘I love you. Your father loves you. And we couldn’t be happier to be down here together, safe and sound.’ She gave her one last kiss on the cheek before letting her hands drop. 

            Eileen made her way to her parents’ bed and crouched to give her father a brief kiss on his forehead. She smiled through the tears as their eyes locked. “Have a good night, Dad.” She said. 

            She had always thought her mother had the most beautiful smile. It was true. Her entire face would give off a glow, a warmth that could brighten an entire room’s spirits. There was something about it that was so…inviting. But out of everyone Eileen had ever met, the only person that could ever come close to out-shining her was her father. Those eyes of his would glisten and sparkle like she was back on Earth, looking up at the night sky on a clear, cloudless night. Each one burning a different way. Each one with their own story. It took her breath away every time.

              ‘You too, Eileen.’ The years had not been kind to his body. He had developed a crippling form of arthritis in his fingers many years ago. Signing was painful for him, so he always spoke. But this time, he used his hands. Careful, slow movements with those cracked fingers that had worked so hard for them before the Fall. Emotion fell from her eyes like rain. ‘Now get to the dining hall before Eric drinks all of the cold beer.’

             They laughed. His smile was a haze. But she could still count every star in his eyes.

             The surface level felt colder than the times before. Eileen pulled her mother’s jacket tighter around her body as she shuffled to the terminal. The monitor came to life under her fingers. The ‘Junk’ folder had two new messages.

            The first was from thirty minutes before. ‘Grave Digger 0958,’ her skin crawled at the title. ‘We are nearing the Casket. Less than forty miles out. Will message again at our arrival. –SW.’

            The second was sent just three minutes before. Her heart went wild in her chest. It was one sentence long.

            ‘Activate the Casket outdoor surveillance.’

            Outdoor surveillance? Eileen didn’t even know they had cameras installed on the outside. What was the point of that? She quickly typed a response.

            ‘Unsure of how to activate it. Didn’t know there was surveillance.’ 

             No more than a minute passed. The reply was one word.

             ‘Security.’

            Security. Security. Of course. She clicked out of the message board and back to the main options. The word ‘Security’ stared her straight in the face. She selected it.

            Activate emergency defense protocols.             Activate forced evacuation sequence.             Activate external security surveillance.             Release Cap maglocks.

            Eileen selected the surveillance option. The screen took a moment to load.

             Would you like to…              Engage in one-sided communication,              Or,              Commence two-sided communication? 

            Whoever these people were, they wouldn’t know she was deaf. They might try and hide their face or not speak slow enough for her to understand. Her finger froze over the keyboard. One minute. Two. It was like pulling teeth. Like prying a child’s mouth open to force feed them vegetables. Until her joints slowly came to life and she selected the second option through the keys. When the footage popped up before her she choked on a massive gasp of air.

             There was a man. Wiry. His deep brown hair appeared as though it hadn’t been cut in months, maybe years. It reached his shoulders and threatened to fall longer still. Even through the camera she noticed a fine layer of grime coating his face, down his neck and staining the collar of his T-shirt. Once upon a time the shirt may have been white. Not anymore. And his eyes. Bluer than the sky she remembered. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He squinted into the camera, seemingly directly at her. Directly through her. 

            ‘Hello?’ His lips hardly moved when he spoke. Great. ‘Grave Digger 0958, can…’ the rest was unreadable. Murky, nonsense words. 

             A woman appeared behind him. Eileen covered her mouth with her palms. The woman was much shorter than the man. Her shoulders were wide as were her arms. She grasped his shoulder and tore his gaze from the camera to speak to him. Her head was turned slightly, mouth partially hidden by her blonde bob. Eileen made out a few words, though. ‘Useless,’ and ‘time,’ and ‘go.’ She could take a pretty good guess as to what she was saying.

            But the man shook his head. That unruly mop of hair swung back and forth against the light stubble along his jaw. His reply was clear. ‘No.’ He turned his entire body toward her to speak. Eileen couldn’t see his lips from this angle. But his words clearly had an impact on her.

            The woman held her hands up in surrender. ‘Alright.’ She glared at the camera and showed the whites of her eyes. A moment later, only the man remained.

            He turned back to the camera and spoke again. Just as muddy as before, only this time there were more. ‘I know… outside… you need to…evacuation… other Caskets.’

            Eileen let out a quiet sigh. It was now or never. They weren’t going to get anywhere when he was talking so unclear. She mustered up every amount of courage from inside of her and leaned toward the monitor.

             “You need to speak clearly.” The man flinched. “I can’t hear you.”

             The man moved closer to the camera. The entire monitor was filled with his face, now. When he spoke again it was a bit slower, but still hardly intelligible. ‘Is your camera not…’ She couldn’t read the last word, but she assumed it to be something similar to ‘working.’

             “The camera is fine.” She said. “I’m deaf.” 

             His mouth formed a small ‘o.’ His lips pulled a bit in what she imagined to be a scoff. ‘I. Know. You. Must. Be. Over-whelmed. By. All. Of. This. But-‘ 

            “You don’t need to talk that slow.” Eileen said. Part of her wished the the camera worked two ways so he could see her eye-roll. “Just pronounce the words a bit more.”

             His cheeks grew a shade of red beneath the dirt. ‘Sorry.’ He said. Much better.

            “It’s fine.” Eileen said. “Repeat what you said before.”

            He took a long, slow breath. His entire lungs filled with air. Then, he began again. ‘I know you must be over-whelmed by all of this, but the outside world is livable. We are proof of it. All of us,’ He motioned somewhere behind him until others began to join him. Eileen counted a dozen. Then two. All of them in a similar state of dirt and disarray. ‘have called the surface home since the start of the Fall. We are living proof that none of this is necessary.’

             “You shouldn’t exist.” Eileen breathed. “None of you. All of you shouldn’t be alive.”

            ‘But we are.’ The man said. He placed a hand on his chest. ‘I’m SW. And we,’ he motioned to the people around him. ‘are what the government call Grave Robbers.’

            Grave Robbers. Grave Robbers? Eileen shook her head. No. This was all starting to sound as if it were make-believe. A dream. “How do you know what the government calls you if you live above ground?”

            ‘Like I said, there’s a reason we know the Casket’s are collapsing.’ SW said. ‘And there’s a reason we know why.’

            Eileen stared at the screen. Stared at their faces. Let SW’s words sink in. These people, these ‘Grave Robbers,’ could easily be lying. Maybe all that they wanted was for her to open the Cap and let them storm down the lifts. Maybe they had been cast from their own Casket’s and exiled to the surface and needed a new home. There could be a million reason as to why. An endless list of possibilities not to trust them. She had no reason to. 

             But as she stared into the martyr’s eyes she didn’t see an inch of cold looking back. No trace of anger or evil looking back. There was only warmth. Determination. Hope. He furrowed his brows as he waited for a response. Eileen swallowed the lump in her throat.

            “I can’t send my Casket out into the unknown.” She said. A few of the Robbers rolled their eyes. One pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared completely. She couldn’t accurately read all of their lips, but she had a decent idea of what they were muttering to one another. “I can’t send my Casket out into the unknown,” She repeated. She took another deep breath. “Until I know it’s safe myself.”

            The dimples in SW’s cheeks pulsed as he swallowed. ‘Are you saying you want to come out here first? Before evacuating the Casket?’

            Eileen nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Yes.”

            One man behind SW stepped forward to the camera. His balding head reached SW’s chin. ‘You’re wasting time.’ The man said. The large scar pulling from his temple to his lips moved as he spoke. ‘You’re all gonna die.’

            “I won’t give the order until I know they will be safe.”

             SW nodded. Slowly, at first, but growing more firm with every passing moment. The older man gave the camera an incredulous look. ‘Alright.’ SW said. The man shrunk back into the crowd. ‘We’ll make it quick. You get your proof, and we get everyone out of there.’ 

            It was all insane. All of it. But even knowing so, she agreed. “Okay.”

            ‘Do you know how to open the door?’

            Eileen thought back to the ‘security’ tab on the terminal. There had been something mentioning the Cap’s maglocks releasing. “I-I think so.” She said. Her hands were beginning to tremble. “The maglocks, right? The option on the terminal?”

            ‘Yes.’ SW nodded. ‘Press that and the door will come open. The emergency system will start going crazy in the Casket. As long as you tell someone you’re up there, they should be able to shut it off.’

            Eileen shifted in the chair. “Actually, no one knows I’m up here.” She said. “No one knows about this but me.”

            A Robber slapped her forehead. ‘Really.’ SW said. ‘Well, that’s… comforting.’ 

            A hand clamped around Eileen’s shoulder. Hard. 

             Eileen screeched and lurched from the chair. The toe of her boot slammed against the control panel. Pain coursed from her foot to her mid-thigh. She wriggled and fought against the hand’s grip until it finally broke free. She whipped her head around and came face-to-face with Eric. His entire face was as red as the emergency sirens along the ceiling.

            ‘I knew it.’ He said. Every vein on his neck was visible. ‘I knew something was up when you wouldn’t talk to me. When the reactor overheated. It was all too much of a coincidence and I refused to believe it.’

            Eileen held up her hands. Her fingers shook so bad they nearly hit against each other. “Eric,” she began. “Listen to me, please. There’s something big going on here, bigger than all of us. Lives might be at stake-“

            Eric’s eyes snapped toward the terminal behind her. SW must have said something. He pushed her aside and leaned over the terminal toward the screen. She couldn’t read their lips. They were talking too quick. But Eileen watched Eric’s body language melt from a stiff arch to something more fluid. His entire back expanded and fell like he was struggling for breath. He took in whatever SW was telling him just as she had.

             “Eric.” She gripped his arm. He was wearing a crisp button-up more than likely from the bottom of his closet. The sleeves were creased and slightly wrinkled. “Eric, listen to me.” He tore his eyes from the screen and studied her. She could see every inch of white that surrounded the bit of hazel. His lips were parted. Like he’d seen a ghost. “We need to see what’s out there. Obviously it’s livable, or else they wouldn’t be able to talk to us.” She shook his arm again and he stared at her hands. “There’s something big going on. Something huge. These people, they say that the Casket could collapse. They’ve seen it happen to others.”

            Eric spoke but hardly moved his lips. She knew what he was asking.

            “We don’t know.” Eileen said. “We don’t know for sure. But that’s why someone needs to go out and see. Before we make any decisions.” He lifted his gaze back to her. “That’s why I’m going out there.”

            Now Eric was gripping her arms. Holding them both tight at her side and just barely shaking her. His eyes tore right through her. ‘You can’t be serious.’ He hunched down to reach her height. ‘Eileen Leahy, you gotta be fucking kidding me.’

            But she wasn’t. Someone had to do it. She shook her head.

            ‘You can’t…’ His head drooped between his shoulders as he shook it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then his shoulder began to shake. His chest heaving. Eileen took him in her arms and held him close, his sobs little bursts of air against her neck. A few of his tears found their way to her cheek.

            “I can do this.” She whispered into his hair. He shuddered and shook his head. “I can, Eric. We need to know the truth. I’ll be alright.” She pulled away and studied his face. Every sharp curve of his jaw. Every crease and wrinkle. Every small remnant or his ‘terrible acne years,’ every random freckle that clung to his skin. And his eyes. Bright hazel with flecks of grey in between. Eric was her best friend. The brother she’d never had. Her mentor. Eileen would get whatever evidence these Robbers had to offer and high-tail it back here to make whatever decision they needed to make. She would come back. But just in case, she took it all in. 

            His breaths were weak sputters, his nostrils flaring every time he sniffed. He gave his nose a long, firm wipe along his shirt sleeve and Eileen snorted. ‘You’re coming back.’ He said. When Eric asked questions, his eyebrows always raised slightly. Whether he did that for her benefit or just on his own, she never knew. But his eyebrows didn’t raise this time. It wasn’t a question.

            She nodded. “Yes.”

            He took a deep breath and squeezed her shoulder. ‘The emergency alarms will go off when the Cap opens.’ He finally said, stepping around her and back to the terminal. SW still stood in the camera’s view, unable to see but able to hear. Most of the Robbers had wandered off by now. Only him and a few of the women remained. She moved to stand behind the terminal so she could read his lips. ‘I can try and keep them from going off in the rest of the Casket, but I don’t know about the ones in here. The reactor level could still hear it.’

            “Most of the Diggers are on the third level for the Dive, right?”

            ‘Most, but not all.’ Eric said. ‘A couple of them stayed late to keep an eye on the reactor. If they hear it, they’ll know something’s wrong.’

            “Then we’ll make it quick.” Eileen said. “All I need to see is the surface and evidence of Casket’s collapsing. Then I’ll come right back.”

            Eric gave her a long, tired look. His eyes nearly drooped out of his head. Then he nodded. ‘Okay.’ 

            Eileen stood in front of the Cap with her fists clenched at her side. This was it. No turning back now. She stared at the chrome door looming tens of feet above her and tried to steady her breathing. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Nose. Mouth. Nose. Mouth. Something dark and rigid was held out in front of her with a pale hand. She took it gently and stared down at it. A breathing apparatus. Eileen met Eric’s eyes from below the raised platform. 

            “I don’t think I-“ She began. Eric stopped her with his hand.

             ‘Just take it.’ He signed. ‘And be safe. Please.’ 

             Eileen nodded and hung it around her neck. It was looser than the first one. She gave Eric one last smile before turning back to the Cap.

            A few moments of silence passed. Then, the sirens began. Every emergency light in the surface level began to blare their bright, crimson light, just as it had for the reactor. The platform trembled and shook beneath her boots. Eileen watched the rows of locks along the sides retract back into themselves. One by one. Until nothing kept the Cap from lifting, disappearing into the slit in the ceiling just large enough to hold it. Through the fall of dirt and muck from the bottom of the Cap, Eileen spotted a pair of boots. Jeans. Until SW’s form was completely visible real-time standing before the stretch of cave behind him. Her breath caught when her eyes met the end. A weakly built wooden door. Peeks of sunlight shone through the cracks. The sun. The open sky. It was all so close.

            She took a step. Then another. Slowly she emerged from the Casket, her hands clutched tight around the apparatus. She kept her breaths shallow. Quick. Trying to avoid taking in too much air. SW met her at the empty Cap track and smiled down at her. He was tall. Taller than the camera had let on. Her eyes were hardly at his chest. ‘You ready?’ He asked. When she nodded he gestured toward the cave’s end. ‘The world awaits, Grave Digger.’

            As they made their way through the cave Eileen chanced one more glance toward the Casket. Eric stood just before the Cap’s track, his form shrinking with every step she took. She held her hand up as means of a goodbye. ‘I’ll be back.’ She mouthed, even though she knew he couldn’t see.

            Eric held up his own in reply. Eileen saw his mouth move around three words but couldn’t make out the meaning. But she could see his smile.

            Eileen turned her back one last time on Casket 017, her face bathed in the sunlight through the door’s wood panels. SW grasped the handle and turned the knob. 

            Eileen gasped.

            The ‘enter’ key was stickier than the rest. It took three hard jabs until it finally clicked, a loading bar appearing across the screen. Then, it disappeared. A bright, bold ‘Welcome, Ted!’ appeared in its place.

            She was in.

            A list of options took form. Without looking from the screen she fumbled for the chair collecting dust off to the side. A cloud of dust blew from the cushion as she flopped into it. She wiped the grime from the screen away with her palm to better read the list.

            Daily logs.             Cap Notes.             Surface level maintenance reports.             Employees.             Security.             Weekly Goals/Long-Term Plan.             Message Board.             Personal notes.             Terminal Settings.

            Eileen peeked over her shoulder to be sure she was alone. Nothing but her and the fizzed-out pieces of technology.

            Most of the accounts didn’t come as a surprise to her. Mostly overviews of the control boards on the surface level. A majority hadn’t been functional in years. Besides a few things regarding the reactor and air filtration maintenance history catching her eye, nothing really struck her as crucial. 

            Wait. She read the list one more time. Message board.

            Message board.

            They had a message board?

            When Eileen had first started work as a grave digger, one of the first things she learned about was one of the Casket’s largest flaws: Communication. The original designers had been so focused on survival that they had thrown the possibility of communication with other Casket’s out the window. It wasn’t crucial in their eyes. Safety first. Emails second. Besides, they wouldn’t have an established internet system below ground. There wasn’t any point. Right?

            She selected the option. An entire new window appeared. There were over 1,000 messages.

            Casket 003, Casket 068, Casket 023. Numbers Eileen didn’t even know existed. There was an entire folder dedicated solely to messages between Casket 001 and Casket 017. She checked the names of some of the senders. Government officials. Original grave-digger designers. There were a handful written by the original Grave Digger and mastermind behind the Administration security system himself, Timothy McClue. Even a few direct messages from the president himself. Daryll Thom. The Ghost. She pressed the ‘escape’ key a bit harder. There was nothing but junk. She went to push herself out of the chair and head back to the reactor for her earful from Eric. 

            The screen flashed. She almost missed it. A quick blip near the corner, where the ‘Inbox’ folder sat. Almost immediately after the ‘Spam’ folder pulsed. A new message. 

            Eileen lowered into the chair once again selected the ‘Junk’ folder. Another Casket, maybe? The Ghost? She selected the ‘Junk’ folder and waited for it to load. Hundreds of emails appeared, all from the same address. A jarbled bunch of numbers. No rhyme. No reason. Just… numbers.

            ‘For any and all residents of Caskets,’ the message read. ‘Danger. Infrastructure of Casket is failing. Dozens have collapsed. Thousands dead. Evacuate immediately. Above ground is livable. I repeat, above ground is livable. Evacuate immediately.’

            Every message was similar. Sent every single day, over the course of fifteen years. Ever since they had left. To every Casket in the country. All signed with the same signature: SW.

            Eileen sat back in the chair and stared at the screen. Above ground was livable. Above ground was livable. How was that possible? For weeks she had watched county after county collapse from air contamination on every news network on T.V. Coastal cities underwater from the endless hurricanes. Hawaii had become the equivalent of Atlantis. Crops were but a distant memory. Geiger counters jumped to new peaks from the overflow of nuclear dump sites across the globe. ‘Judgement Day is here,’ a common phrase blasted across every tabloid on the news stand. ‘The Apocalypse is upon us.’ 

            But this mystery email, this ‘SW’, was claiming it was all – what, a fake? A fairytale? Something birthed from nightmares? Not only that, but asking for every Casket to evacuate due to failing infrastructure. Eileen was a grave digger. The very backbone behind Casket 017. She would know if something was failing. She would know if they were in danger. They would all know. 

            But Eileen had always felt something was off. The way the government just poured them into the Casket with little to no information on what would come of it. Hell, the only reason the grave diggers knew what they did was based off of trial-and-error alone. There had been no training. No warning. It all happened so fast. This had never been their choice.

            Her fingers hovered over the keys, poised above and curled slightly. What should she say? What could she say? Was this ‘SW’ even alive? What if these messages were sent on some kind of timer, and they hadn’t been near their terminal in months? But that voice returned. Deep within her head. Calling out to her. You’ll never know if you don’t attempt, it said. Make the attempt. 

            ‘Casket 017. Boston District.’ She typed. She peered over her shoulder one more time before she continued. ‘This is Grave Digger 0958. Requesting response from SW. Please respond.’

             She selected ‘send’ before she could back out. The message disappeared into the monitor. On its way to whoever the hell ‘SW’ was.

            Eileen didn’t know what to do. Should she wait? Who knows how long that would take. Months, maybe. Years. She’d probably sooner die up against the Cap before hearing from this conspiracy theorist. Probably some teen from Casket 042 in the Seattle district who got into his parent’s stash again. Some kind of practical joke. 

            And how would she tell Eric? Should she tell Eric? He already knew about the terminal. If he had half a brain he’d piece together the reactor malfunction with her sudden disappearance to the surface level. He wouldn’t rat on her. But it might make things difficult for a while. And having tension while living in a tin-can hole in the ground with thousands of other people? It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. 

            The screen flashed. Eileen almost shot out of the chair. Another new message.

            Holy shit. 

            Her fingers flew across the keys, striking a few random ones in the process and fumbling to the ‘Junk’ folder. That same garble of numbers stared back at her from the sender bar.  

            ‘Grave Digger 0958. Action is necessary. Evacuate Casket 017 immediately.’ Her heart pounded a bit harder with every word. ‘-SW.’

             There was no possible way that this was an automated message. It was sent directly to her. No other Casket had been CC’ed. SW was typing this live-time. SW was alive. 

            ‘SW. Which Casket are you located in?’ Eileen typed in reply. ‘How do you know the Casket’s are unstable?’

            She hit the ‘send’ button. Hardly two minutes passed before she received a response.

            ‘Grave Digger 0958. I am not located in a Casket.’ The message read. ‘I repeat, above ground is livable. –SW.’’

            Eileen stared read and re-read the message over and over again. Above ground is livable. Above ground is livable. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea. It was too large of a leap to take their word for it. She needed proof. 

‘SW,’ she typed. ‘From my understanding, all life was evacuated to Caskets. Surface is inhabitable. Evidence required before action is taken.’

            Five minutes passed. Maybe this ‘SW’ had been making it all up. Maybe it was just a rebellious teen from another Casket. Then, the computer flashed. 

            ‘Grave Digger 0958. Time is short. Action should be taken immediately. Trust in us. –SW.’

            Something stirred in her stomach. How could she trust in someone she had never seen or met? Eileen was a Grave Digger a scientist. Her entire career, her way of life, was based solely on fact. ‘I repeat, evidence is required.’ She typed. ‘I will not send my people to their death unless I see evidence proving otherwise.’ 

               This reply was almost instantaneous. ‘You condemn your people to their death by keeping them held beneath ground. Warnings have been issued for many years. The time for evidence has long passed.’

            ‘Evidence,’ Eileen slammed each key with unnecessary force. ‘is required.’

            The ‘Junk’ folder went quiet. She refreshed the page every few minutes. No flashes. No ‘SW’. Nothing. She waiting fifteen minutes before developing half a mind to abandon the entire endeavor. At twenty minutes, a new message appeared.

            ‘Grave Digger 0958.’ It read. ‘We are three days journey from your location. Maintain access of terminal.’ Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head. ‘Further instruction will be given once we are close. –SW.’

            ‘We.’ They said ‘we.’ As in, multiple people. There was a group of them. And they were coming here. To Casket 017. In order for Eileen to force a Casket evacuation. 

            What had she done? They could be monsters. Psychos. Some weird, cannibalistic faction that had been twisted by the surface elements and hell-bent for blood. And now they knew which Casket she were located in. What district they were in. She shut down the terminal and stared blankly at the black screen.

            Jesus, Eileen.

            “Why didn’t you come get me?” 

            ‘We had the leak plugged in twenty minutes. You haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two weeks.’

             “The reactor is my responsibility.” Her voice clawed at her throat on the way out. A few diggers had stopped their conversations to listen to theirs. “We’re a team. You’re supposed to come get me when something goes wrong.”

            ‘The reactor is all our responsibility.’ She hadn’t noticed the slivers of grey in his hair until now. How much he’d aged since they moved down here. Eric had only been a grave digger for three years but he looked like he’d been roaming the second level for at least ten. His chest heaved with a long breath. ‘The mechanics are looking at the core now. There isn’t much we can do until they give us the breakdown.’

            Eileen licked her teeth under her lips and stared at the ground. He always did this. Always babied her like she was a China doll. There weren’t many things Eileen disliked about Eric, but this was something she hated. “There’s gotta be something down here that needs attention. How are the pumps?”

            ‘Pumps are fine.’ A digger shoved into her back on his way to the hallway. She glared at the back of his head before coming back around. ‘Power grid’s working good. Filters are still running.’ He glanced up at the ceiling then back to her. He bit his lip then shrugged. ‘Everything looks fine.’

            “But?” 

            ‘But what?’

            “You’re not telling me something.” She pointed at his cupid’s bow lip. “You always do that when you’re lying. You bite the inside of your lip and won’t look at me.”

            He smirked through an eye roll. ‘You’re full of shit. I don’t do that.’ He sucked that lip back into his mouth.

            “You just did it again.” Eileen punched him in the arm. Not hard, but not light, either. “What the hell is it? Tell me.”

            ‘Fine, fine.’ He rolled his head back and showed the whites of his eyes. ‘God, have you always been this persistent?’

            Eileen’s lips pouted with a smug smile. “Comes with age.”

            ‘Yeah, whatever.’ His smiled but not with his eyes. ‘Wasn’t lying when I said everything down here looks fine. It’s the main level that’s got us worried.’

            “The surface level?” He nodded. Eileen swallowed. “Do they think there was a surge in the latch?”

            ‘Don’t know. No one’s gone up there to check yet.’ His face crumbled like a wall of stone. ‘Eileen, you don’t-‘

            “No.” She held up a hand. A fresh set of wrinkles had formed under his eyes. “I’ll go.”

            ‘Eileen.’ His fingers grasped her arms to keep her from leaving. ‘Take an apparatus with you. And for god sakes, wear it. It’s dangerous up there.’

            She laid her hand on top of his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll be back soon.”

             There were two lifts still in operation. One was what they considered the ‘main lift,’ it was constructed a short time after they had sealed the entrance on the surface level. The second was more popularly known as ‘Lucifer’s Lift.’ Once upon a time, it had been the primary lift for all levels. Until the tracks between level two and five shorted out. Now it was blocked off, the idea of it merely existing a safety hazard. Eileen stared at the rusted gate for longer than she needed to before taking a deep breath and stepping over the barrier.

            When the Casket’s were first designed before the Fall, no one had paid much attention to the top level. There weren’t any rooms up there. No place for anyone to sleep or eat. No real essential equipment that meant the safety of everyone else. It’s only purpose was to be able to hold enough people during their initial entrance during the evacuation and to protect the Cap. If something were to go wrong with the Cap, the rest of the Casket would still be safe from anything that seeped in. But no one knew how well the Cap’s had been built. The final stages of the Casket project had been rushed to make sure they were ready in time. For that reason, no one dared to set foot up there. There wasn’t any need.

            The breathing apparatus she had grabbed was too tight around her face. Her cheeks were squished in like a chipmunk under the straps. The lift trembled and bounced on the track. Her knuckles were sheet white against the railing. Why hadn’t the mechanics had this shaft filled yet? It came to a slow and shaky stop and she all but sprinted through the gates. One ride down, one to go. 

            Lights were scarce. A few stations were still blinking with vibrant colors but most of them had been powered down. The only one that mattered was the control panel near the front of the level, directly across from where the lift stood. Eileen had to step around a few forgotten jackets and a couple pairs of shoes. A suitcase lay open next to a powered-down generator. Along the floor were still traces of muddy footprints, a reminder of that preferably-forgotten day so long ago. She moved a little faster between the panels. 

            The Cap’s controls were pretty simple. An open and shut latch. An old-style terminal. Monitors that kept track of the air quality on the top level. A couple of buttons that more than likely controlled the speed at which the Cap moved. She checked the monitors. The light had dimmed out underneath the numbers and the ticker sat below zero. Must’ve lost connection. She tapped a few keys on the terminal and the screen came to life. “What the hell did they think was wrong?” She muttered into the apparatus. Everything seemed to be working, minus the air monitors. The Cap was secure. Unless there was something really wrong underneath the panel’s casing, the place got a clean bill of health from her. Thank god. Now she could get the hell out of here.

            But she couldn’t stop staring at the terminal. Underneath the grime and dust coating the display it read ‘Password.’ No one had passwords on their terminals. It made it too hard for people to remember. It wasn’t like anyone had anything to hide. There wasn’t much you could hide under ten thousand tons of steel drilled into the ground. So why was this one password protected?

             ‘A password?’ Eric signed to her in the dining hall. Things had calmed down on the second level and they were finally getting their lunch break. At 5:23 P.M. ‘Our terminals don’t have passwords. There’s no point.’

            ‘I know.’ She signed back. Her untouched plate of slop was the last thing on her mind. ‘So why does this one?’

            He shoveled a mouth full of food into his mouth before continuing. He could hardly chew it with his mouth closed. ‘Maybe one of the grave diggers forgot to take it off. Shit wasn’t exactly smooth during the evacuation.’

             ‘Or, there’s something on it they don’t want us to know.’

            ‘Oh, so now you’re a conspiracy theorist?’ Eileen scoffed as he continued. ‘Do you think Bush did 9/11, too?’

            ‘Prick.’ 

             ‘What?’ He smiled and held up his hands. ‘Oh, c’mon, it was a joke.’

            ‘I’m being serious.’ She watched him take another bite. ‘Where do you think the password would be? In the admin offices?’

            ‘We can’t go in there.’ He gave her a look. ‘Seriously, Eileen, what’s your deal? You been getting enough sleep?’

            ‘It’s not like anyone can stop me. I’ll just slip in and grab it and be on my way.’

            ‘Until Tim catches you and tears your head off.’ His signs were hard, firm hits against his own skin. ‘You wanna end up like Frankie?’

             A chill went down Eileen’s spine. ‘I’d rather not.’

            ‘Then quit thinking about it.’ He shoveled another fork full of mush into his mouth and swallowed it whole. ‘You gonna eat or what?’

            But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was the only thing on her mind. When she opened her eyes in the morning. While she waited in line for the toothpaste dispenser in the communal bathroom. Between small bites of her lunch. Over their beers after shift with Eric in the lounge area. All she could think about was that damn terminal. That damn terminal and that stupid password. 

            Sunday was Eileen’s laundry day, just like every other second level dweller. Grave diggers were assigned the same day so that lab coats could be washed in a single load. Eric was bedridden with a nasty case of the flu, so Eileen had volunteered to run his undershirts and work pants. She stared at the surface level terminal screen over the top of the washer as she shoved their clothes in. What was so important that needed to be kept secret? Was it something about the Caskets? About the world above ground? Some kind of government-kept secret from before the Fall? Eileen huffed a breath. Eric was right. She was turning into one of those conspiracy loons.

            Most of the third level was in the dining hall for lunch, her parent’s included. The walk back to her room was empty. Not a single set of footsteps moved the floor. She stopped at the fork in the hallway and stared at the sign with an arrow pointing right. ‘Administration.’ She glanced behind her once. Twice. A third time, just to be sure. Not a soul was around.

            Her shoes left footprints in the dust on the floor. The air felt heavier. Denser. As if there was too much oxygen being pumped in the hall and not enough carbon dioxide coming back out. By the time she found the door her heart was slapping against the inside of her chest. Just a quick peak, she thought. There was a probably a folder for it in a file cabinet. All she had to do was slip in, search a few drawers and she’d be out of there…

            But Tim. And Frankie. She shrank from the door a few steps. She could still remember him stumbling around the third level with no idea who or where he was. At one point he had been the most advanced grave digger on staff. Now, he sat in his room day and night, staring at the wall and coloring outside the lines in children’s art books. Whatever he’d found in that room, Tim didn’t want him repeating. What if the same would happen once she swiped the password?

            Another few days passed. Eric had returned to the second floor but was still pretty low energy. They ran their tests and monitored the pumps. The reactor was still acting up but nothing that required immediate attention. ‘As long as the core doesn’t surge again.’ Eric said over one of the grids. ‘Remember when the entire Casket lost power for twenty minutes? Thought everyone was close to losing their minds.’ 

            The power.

            If the power was temporarily shut off for the entire Casket nothing would be in operation. No doors. No lifts. No lights.

            No security systems.

            It was a huge risk. Maybe too big of a risk. It went against everything that a grave digger was supposed to uphold. It was enough to leave her without a job. Or worse. If Eric found out, he’d never look her in the face again. Eileen could already see the look of disappointment on her father’s face. That alone should have been enough to let fire snuff into ash.

            But the flames kept burning.

            She waited another two days. Two days of sitting on her master plan like a hen protecting her eggs. Waiting until the time was right. Then on Friday, the core started overheating. Someone would need to stay late to make sure nothing went wrong.

            It was time.

            Eileen worked quick. Dials spun like tops under her fingers. Gauges sputtered and slid like mad. A fine line of sweat was budding under her sweater sleeves. This was stupid. So stupid. Probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done in her life to date. The temperature monitor began climbing higher. Higher. Higher still. Until the ticker was jumping between impossibly high numbers and the fluorescent beams began flickering overhead. The red hot heat from the core was leaving her face doused in sweat. Then, darkness. A single emergency flasher on the ceiling was the only source of light in the room.

            The messy bun she’d thrown her hair into was everywhere now, whipping in her eyes as she sprinted out of the reactor and to the main corridor. She blew past the lifts completely and shoved the door open to the emergency stairwell. In another minute the corridor would be packed. She took the steps two at a time.

            It was late. Most people were still asleep. But the alarms were like nuclear explosions in every room. That was how her mother had described them. Terrifying, ugly, bursting sounds. Something straight from nightmares. Her parents would be worried sick. They would be shoving their way through hundreds of people to find someone in power. Their voices would be drowned out by thousands shouting at once. But they didn’t need to worry. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine.

            The hallway was pitch black. It was hard to see, even for her. Her hands fumbled against the walls to feel for that slick wood tucked into the metal walls. When she found it a burst of air left her lips quick and hard. The plaque at eye level had a line of raised text. The first letter was unmistakable. A. This was it.

            Dead air filled her lungs at the first crack of the door. Cold. Freezing, actually. A violent shiver slithered up and down her spine. A lone emergency bulb flickered bleakly above, hardly offering any light to the closet-sized space. Hardly any space to walk. To move. Wall to wall electronics and monitors filled every corner. The desk to her right was cluttered with paper and trash. A bunch of meaningless numbers from years ago.

           She took another step inside. Slow. Hesitant. Then another. She needed to move faster. She didn’t have any time. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. Eileen propped the door with one foot and leaned her hand against the desk behind her. 

            Something moved. Eileen shot up. Tensed. Straightened. Pulled her foot from the door on impulse and whipped her head around. She gulped for air. A large, black screen stared back under the dim light. Paired with two pieces of solar-panel devices hung above. The eyes.

           Tim.

            But T.I.M. was off. It seemed the original grave diggers hadn’t thought about putting their main security protocol on a separate electric grid. Just what she had been hoping for. She was safe from whatever horror that government-made device could do. Safe from Frankie’s fate. For now. 

            Eileen dug through every drawer. Every file cabinet. Nothing was spared from her hands. Where would they keep a password for a terminal? On a piece of scratch paper? A ledger? Personal files? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

            The last drawer offered nothing remotely helpful. She slammed the drawer closed and the desk trembled from its force. “Damn it.” She muttered. This was pointless.

            A piece of paper floated from the desk to the floor. She followed its path down and back up. Her breath caught. A leather bound journal blinked back at her. It must have been hidden beneath the paper.

            Eileen flew to the book, ripped it open and scanned the inside. Ted Ribbourn, the chicken scratch on the inside cover read. A home address. Employee number. Specialty. Nothing useful. She turned to the first page.

            “Assignment to surface level: received.” Eileen read to herself. “Terminal 0186,” A smile broke out on her face.

            “Password,” she said. “GD12Casket017.”

            The footsteps outside the room were doubling in number. Tripling. Before she could talk herself out of it she shoved the journal into the waistband of her pants and her lab coat pulled tight around her as she fled to the hall. She couldn’t get the door closed fast enough.

            I did it, she thought. She crossed her arms across her chest as she walked. Holy shit, she did it.

            The third floor corridor was in mass chaos. Bodies everywhere. Panicked faces. It was hotter than hell near the middle of the crowd. The air systems were all connected to the reactor.

            Her parents spotted her before she did. Her mother clung to her arm, her body pressed up against her with her father looking on from behind. The relief flooded their features at the same time.

            ‘Eileen!’ Her mother’s lips spoke. Sweat dripped from her hair and down the cut of her cheekbones. ‘What’s happening? Is everything alright?’

            As if she commanded it, the lights kicked on overhead. Cool air blew across her face from the vents above. The entirety of the floor took a collective breath and released it in synch. 

            “Everything is fine.” Eileen said. Everything is fine.

            It was a short walk from the fuel pumps to the reactor. Short but cramped. The hall was hardly big enough to fit two grown adults. It wasn’t so bad now, but after the wake-up alarm sounded? It was like rush-hour traffic on the Los Angeles freeway. Bumper to bumper, nose to nose. You got to know people quick in that kind of space. That was how she’d met Eric on her first day. He’d been talking to the back of her head for five minutes until he figured out she was ignoring him. Not on purpose, of course. She didn’t exactly have something tattooed on her forehead that said ‘Speak slow, I’m deaf!’ But he caught on fast. His smile wasn’t so bad to look at, either. 

            Eileen passed by one of the filtration managers in the walkway. They had to shimmy past each other on the way through. ‘Heading home, Eileen?’ She read his lips. Eddie didn’t know any sign language. But he had a big mouth on that big head. She could always feel his voice in her toes when he talked. She imagined it to be deep, scraping the back of his throat from the depths of his chest. 

            “Not yet.” She said. “Still need to check on the reactor pumps. Make sure they aren’t leaking.”

            ‘If you say so,’ He shook his head without breaking his gaze. ‘Don’t work yourself to death. Get some rest.’

            Eileen just smiled like she always did. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

            His chest shook under his lab coat. He always closed his eyes when he laughed. ‘Goodnight, Eileen.’

            “Goodnight.” He shrugged out of his coat as he passed, draping it over his arm and heading back where she came. His T-shirt had deep sweat stains underneath the arms that reached his shoulder blades. Eileen’s nose scrunched up. Gross.

            Out of all the equipment on the maintenance level, she imagined the reactor room to be the loudest. A few grave diggers wore ear plugs or headphones while they worked. She’d asked Eric to describe it to her once. ‘You’re lucky you can’t hear it.’ He’d signed to her. His signs were stiff, textbook patterns straight from an ASL college course. ‘It’s like standing in front of fifty amps while someone holds a mic up to one of them.’

            ‘Is that loud?’ She’d signed.

           ‘Very.’

              Her fingers brushed against the reactor’s casing. It was warm to the touch, but didn’t burn her skin. She made a note on her clipboard. ‘Overheating issue has been corrected. Will monitor until next week.’ She moved to the temperature gauge to record the reading. 553 degrees Celsius. She jotted it down. Above average but better than it had been last week. They had been ten degrees away from evacuating the entire first and third levels in the event of a core meltdown. Her mother nearly went into cardiac arrest over the ordeal. She’d gotten an eye-full when she stumbled back home after fifteen hours of straight core supervision. Her father just watched from his cot near the back of the room, sipping on his one-allowed beer per day and shaking his head. They hated the idea of their daughter being a grave digger. But in the end, she knew they were proud. She saw it in her father’s eyes when she came home every day from the second level. The way her mother bombarded her with questions about every aspect of her day. ‘Anything go wrong?’ ‘Is there still enough water for everyone?’ ‘Did you get that air filter back online?’ The same type of questions each evening with the same answers. Everything’s fine, everything’s fine.

            Oxide levels were normal. The lead-coolant containment was full. The fuel pistons were running at full capacity. She made notes as she went, her legs moving her from place to place without waiting for instruction. She’d been doing this a long time. Five years next month. Too long, as Eric would say. It wasn’t a job for the faint of heart. Eileen was always on call. Even on her one off day per week – Sunday – did she have to be ready at a moment’s notice. Nothing pissed her mom off more than Eric jogging to their table in the communal dining room when they were in the middle of supper. ‘Those fucking eggheads.’ She’d sign over her plate of slop, most of it untouched. ‘The one day a week I get to see you and they suck you back in. Can’t they get someone else to babysit?’

            But there weren’t many grave diggers quite like Eileen.

            She didn’t start heading home until an hour and a half after curfew. She flipped every light off except for the emergency beams and headed for the main lift. Albert was on guard duty tonight. He fisted the call button for the lift and the floor started to hum. His helmet was two sizes too big. As was the rest of his uniform. She could hardly see his eyes from under the brim of his hat. When the lift came to a stop and the gates opened she gave him a small wave. The eighteen-year-old smiled in return.

            Her parents were fast asleep on their bed. Originally, it had been bunkbeds. She’d never seen her father laugh so hard in her life. ‘What is this, summer camp?’ He said. Not a day later those bunkbeds had been cut down and shoved into a make-shift queen bed. Usually, they slept sprawled out on each mattress. Her mother usually wrapped up in the single wool blanket, her father’s arm dangling over the other side and mouth gaping into his pillow. But tonight that thin blanket hugged them both, her father holding her close on the right end of their bed. His lips pressed into her cherry red bun. He held her like the world was ending. As if he didn’t hold her close he’d wake up and she’d be dust in the vents. Eileen stood over them for a few minutes and committed it all to memory. One day when they were gone, she’d look back and remember this. Not the cramped studio they were forced to share. Not the slop they called meals in the kitchen, or even the morning and curfew alarms. She’d remember the love they shared. The strength they’d taught her growing up, whether it was down here or back at home in Ireland. It never mattered that she was different. They never made her feel like a burden or an added stress to their lives. She was just Eileen Leahy. 

            The wiry sheets stretched across her cot pricked her skin, the fibers biting a bit when she moved. The legs underneath ground against the floor when she settled in. She could only imagine what it sounded like. Sharp, rusted metal against concrete. It was a miracle her parents didn’t shoot up in bed from it. She lifted her head just to see. Still fast asleep. Her head hit her thin pillow and she closed her eyes.

            She dreamed of a wildflower field in the late spring.