Gage: When the dead came.
Remi:I was asleep in bed. I woke to screams and sirens. My mom was looking out the window, her face as white as newly fallen snow.
Gage: You lived with your parents?
Remi:Shit started to go sideways when I was applying to colleges. Then high school stopped altogether. For months, they kept talking about global warming and supply chain issues. It was all lies.
Gage: They didn’t want to incite panic.
Remi:That didn’t work out so well for them, did it?
Gage: How have you survived this long alone?
Remi:I hid in a closet that someone had been using to store supplies.
Gage: Looks like luck was on your side.
Remi:Was luck on anyone’s side?
Gage: You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s lucky.
Remi:What about you? Were you lucky?
Gage: Luck has nothing to do with me. I was made for this.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Remi:You know, I think I’ll just scavenge, but thanks.
Gage: And when the bombs come, what will you do then?
That got my attention, straightening my spine and making my hairs stand on end.
Remi:Bombs?
Gage: If you turn your radio to 100.9, you’ll hear a message playing on repeat. It’s a warning to the people still inhabiting the city, saying that they’re going to carpet bomb the area in just thirty days. That message started playing ten days ago, so you have twenty.
My mouth falls open as a rush of adrenaline courses through me.
I twist the dial until I reach the channel and listen to the weak voice streaming from the speaker. It’s hard to understand, and I’m only able to make out jumbled phrases.
…from the office off…districts…hot zone…air strike…leave the city…seek shelter underground…may God have mercy on us all…
Fuck...
I pace in a small circle in the closet, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. How I’m going to make it out alive.
Do I stay in the city? Or leave? What did they mean by underground shelter? How the hell am I supposed to get there? Do they mean the sewer?
I look back at the radio, at my only hope.
Perhaps Gage isn’t so bad. If he truly does have enough supplies, there’s less reason for him to be aggressive.
Unless he’s lying and is just as fucked as you are.
I shake the thought from my head because there’s no use worrying over something when I have so little control and desperately need help.
Swallowing hard, I try like hell to muster my last shred of courage as I pick up the receiver and press TALK.
Remi:I’d like to negotiate.