Coming clean [pt2]

*Note: This is the second part of a story*

"They don't know it exists. We'll be fine, Leslie."

My mom comforts my Dad. He’s sitting at the kitchen table. “No, I just can’t believe that. Your family is observant, like you.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “And your family is dramatic, like you. Your grandparents spent decades building before passing it on to your folks, hon. And-”

“And I finished it last month. You don’t need to remind me. I love you, Loretta, and I love our bundle of joy.”

Dad points to me. I’m playing with a toy on the ground. My pudgy legs are pressed against the tiled kitchen floor. I perk up at them. 

“Daddy!”

I didn’t really speak sentences more than four words at the time. My parents smile at me fondly. “See?” My mom says. “She’s why we need to keep this secret, hon. Your parents are gone. Our child’s the legacy. This bunker can hold 6 people. We’re only 3. We’ll make it, okay?”

My dad nods. His brown hair is sweaty. That’s an attribute I share with him. My face and head sweats like crazy when I’m nervous. I Looked at the calendar. 2069. I continued to play, not realizing how important that conversation would be.

[]

“Pessimist?” Calls Lacy. She’s at the bottom of the stairs already. “What was that clank?”

“That was...a metal pole closing over our main exit. The only other way out is through the air filter. But it could be blocked as well. Then we’ll live here for the rest of our lives. Unless the air filter was somehow damaged, then-”

“Didn’t need to know that!” Gordon shouts. “Get down here!”

When I was young, we’d come to this bunker for secret picnics. While we ate ham sandwiches and drank lemonade, my parents quizzed me about this place. For fun they’d respond when I asked why. It wasn’t until I turned twelve they started telling me the real reason. There was a world where you didn’t walk around in gas masks. But I hadn’t experienced it for ten years. They showed me the entrances and the farm that was growing. When I was 14, we went vegetarian to start practicing. Meat was banned a year later anyway. But, every time we entered, no matter what, I always did one thing. 

“Is anyone directly at the bottom?” I ask.

“We’re off to the side a bit.” Responds Lacy.

“Good.”

I remember my parents. I remember the time spent running between dying trees. I remember the world I love. I take a deep breath, and jump.

 I land heavily on the metal floor. The siblings jump. “Gah!”

Screams Cassidy. “That’s really scary!”

I shrug. Reaching blindly to me left, I feel a switch with my plastic-covered fingers; I flick it. It takes a few seconds for the lights to come on. A drilling noise can be heard in the distance. Cassidy, Gordon, and Lacy wrinkle their noses. So It’s a nervous habit for all of them, not just Gordon I think.

“That’s the sound of the air filter. It’ll need about five minutes, so don’t take off your suits yet.”

The three of them drop their bags on the ground. Lacy leans against a wall. “Alright, pessimist, speak up. What the hell is this place?”

Her and Gordon aren’t as polite as their sister.

“This is my parents’ bunker. Well, actually it was started by my Great-Grandparents. Four generations in the making.”

Gordon glances around. We’re in a small room with metal walls. Behind me, the ladder. To the side, there’s a vent and hooks to hang hazmat suits on. Ten feet away, a door to the living area waits. There’s a window, but it’s dark. A few bright light bulbs cast yellow beams on our figures. “Does everything still work, really?” Cassidy asks.

“Yeah. We check it out monthly. Me and my parents make a roadtrip of it.”

“Sorry they don’t get to be here.” Gordon sympathizes.

 I pretend to see something fascinating on my dirty boots.

“They probably died already.” I get out. A drop of water sprouts from my eye and crawls down my face. “But I’m not alone. We can manage this place together.”

I feel the memories flooding back. The scent hanging in the air will only get stronger once we get inside. Then, the thoughts will come back. Oh, how I’m dreading that moment.

The drilling sound stops. We all pause. “You can take off your suits. Hang them on the hooks.”

I start peeling off my sweaty suit. The filter reeks. The yellow and white plastic is stuck to my skin My helmet falls out of my hands and clatters on the ground. It takes a bit of effort to get my feet out of the boots--I didn’t put socks on, a decision I’m really regretting. It finally pops, but leaves red marks on my ankles. I look at the clothes I’ve been wearing for almost two days. Jean shorts with deep--if empty--pockets. A dark purple sweater that I found in my Dad’s drawer. Come to think of it, these are my mother’s old shorts. The last things I have left of my parents. Clothes that fit me awkwardly. I look up to see the siblings are almost done. Gordon has dried blood on his face from that nosebleed. He’s wearing a checkered green flannel. It’s too small for him. He has on capri pants the colour of dead grass. 

Cassidy’s jeans are ripped on the knees. Not out of style, but exertion. Her greasy hair as blonde as her brother’s is in a messy ponytail.

 Lacy’s  wrinkled, navy skirt reaches her knees. Her t-shirt is matching Cassidy's; blue with the words Supercenter employee 2060. Whoever they got the shirts from is old now.  “Wow, pessimist. Your hair is like a tomato.” Lacy comments.

“It’s not my...you know what, sure. Call me pessimist.” I put a hand to my head and flatten out my crimson waves. “Let’s just get inside.”

They all nod. I walk past them to the door. I pull the chain off from around my neck. “What’s that?” Asks Gordon.

“The key.” I tell him, looking at the charm. A picture of my great-grandparents. I press the picture to the silver handle. There’s a series of little sputtering sounds before the door swings open.

“May I ask  why the handle’s there if you don’t really use it?”

I stare at the darkness. “To throw off intruders.”

[]

The smell of this place hits me hard. It’s worse than I imagined. Ginger and cleaning solution. I first took in that scent when I was three years old. Me and my parents came here for the first time. I was clutching a teddy bear as they helped me down the ladder. “Come on, hon. Don’t be scared.” my mom encouraged me.

My Dad was holding my tiny hand as my mom closed the door. I gulped at the big, scary room before me. The finishing touches had just been added. The kitchen, with it’s microwave and stove. A small sink with a single bar of soap. Many shelves contained canned and boxed food. There was still sawdust on some surface from construction. There were two doors to the left, both coated in white paint. One read Bathroom& Bedroom and the other one said Farm.

There were plants everywhere, hanging from the ceiling. On the left side, there was a booth. I later learned there were supplies and plant food in the seats “Where are we?” I asked, wide eyed.

My Mom came up behind me and placed a loving hand on my shoulder. “Hon, we’re home.”

[]

It looks the same now, albeit with a few pictures hung on the walls and a new spout for the kitchen sink. The whole place is white. The siblings look around. “This...you?” Gordon asks, pointing to a picture. A little kid with a green rubber coat on is smiling. On one hand, a teddy bear held by the ankle resides. In the other, a rock the kid found cool. I don’t respond. My knees are weak. I feel the world rocking back and forth my eyes are blurry. The tears and sobs come rolling out. My parents are dead. They must be. How could they have lived. The fires and storms are something we barely avoided. When they left me on that bus bench, promising to return, they lied. Were they coming here, to free themselves of the burden of children? No. They told me they were getting supplies. I didn’t believe them. But I stayed. I’m heaving now. I drop to my knees. Cassidy, Gordon, and Lacy rush over.

“Pessimist? Oh, this is bad.”

“You okay?”

“Really? Do you think so, Gordon?”

Their bickering cuts through the snots and tears and drool. Through the flames licking at my mind. I’m here. But my parents aren't. I can’t do anything about it. I’ll probably have to live the rest of my life with these people. My heart hurts. And It won’t stop for a long time.