January 16th, 2018

frustrated mother of teenager

Mixed Luck

So, here's my seventh tale for Apocalypse Bingo, and it comes from the prompt "Empty fall-out shelter." It came in at 3,219 words and ends in mild profanity.

The trouble with searching out and opening old fallout shelters was that you were never sure what you were going to find. Sometimes they'd never been used. Sometimes they were empty, and the one in the back blocks of Somersby that had been completely empty, even of dust, had been straight out creepy. Esel had heard the stories, they all had, of places in North America and northern Eurasia where they'd found bunkers concealed under bunkers, and going down for kilometres. Sometimes there had been people in there, it was best when it was clear they'd chosen to open up and leave when it had become safe outside, and sometimes their preparations hadn't been enough. Last year a search team in Mosman had found an unbreached bunker that still had people inside it; Esel had been told that they were adjusting to Now very slowly.

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