Get out there

You don't know what's happened to the world outside, and there's not much left in your bunker. What do you do?

Get out there

You sigh as you pour what’s left of the cornflakes into the unwashed bowl and munch them dryly on the edge of your bunkbed. The milk, even powdered, ran out a long time ago, in fact there are scant all rations left. Power is low, you allow yourself periods of ‘light time’ when the lights are turned on, and have tried to limit your intake of water.

Although you were self indulgent at first, you still tried to work out how much time you’d have left and conserve your supplies. Eggs, meat, fruit and milk first, tinned goods for later on. Use television sporadically for glimpses of the news, the outside of your rusted bunker. “I guess it doesn’t work anymore.” you think sadly.

How long has it been? One month, two, longer? You’re amazed that the tech and plumbing both still function. Your nails are growing, yellow twisted claws like plastic, your own musk, your scent has so enveloped you as to be unnoticeable.

In a short spurt of good faith, you try the television again. Boring static, no hope. It’s either busted or there’s radio silence, you’d have to go outside to whatever’s up there to check.

The bunker, this 20 by 20 foot space of canned goods, a bunk bed, basic television and an endless world of reading material which refuses to stick within your mind, your delusions growing and festering deeper within your isolation. A rat in a cage. Silence, save for the gnawing ticking of your only clock. Quarter past one. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Boredom and uncertainty. Only two days worth of food left. What will happen?

You can’t deny, despite your trepidation to ascend, your sheer itchiness to head up. See how it is, any news? Any change? Anything worth braving the danger for?

The rusted rungs of the ladder creak beneath you as you climb and heave off the heavy metal lid. The light invades you, blinds you as you emerge into the danger of the outside world.

It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the lush green grass and blue skies. Chirping birds. The tree the landlord planted at the bottom of the garden.

“Oi” your mate John calls out from the house. “Done with it yeah?”

“What? Nah, the tv got busted early again. Only a bit of food left too.”

“Still can’t believe you bother with this s**t. Nuclear war my a*s. Does the landlord even know you practice down there?”

“It’s fine, the ariel needs to be protected for the news, and I need a new food plan.”

“It’s just a man cave. What you NEED is help. Stop playing games and get a new job. Rents due in a few weeks and you’ve wasted a month dicking around. Get out there.”