The Anniversary

The red marker dangled at the end of a strand of 550 cord, bouncing back and forth in the breeze of the recycled air. Jim Green picked up the marker and marked another day off the calendar. Today’s date was circled in the same red. Diagonally across the block was written “anniversary” in small, succinct letters.

He turned back to the sterilized kitchen. Metal countertops sparkled beneath the fluorescent light. The room smelled of disinfectant and bleach, a distinct combination he’d grown used to over the past eight months. The sterilized smell nearly drowned the aromatic scent of lasagna. It was Sarah’s favorite, and it seemed like a fitting splurge on their special day.

Drip.

A swollen drop of water formed at the end of the faucet before dropping into the metal sink.

Drip.

Jim frowned. He turned the handle on the faucet until he was worried it would break, but it didn’t stop another pregnant droplet from forming.

Drip.

With a sigh, he walked to the fridge and pulled the dry erase marker from its clip above the white board. In the same small writing, he wrote “kitchen sink” at the bottom of the list. Guest bedroom toilet, third row hydroponics bulb, dining room paint, dining room grout cleaning… the list went on and on.

When he and Sarah bought the bunker, the brochure had been very specific. The bunker would be able to withstand any natural or manmade disaster, while providing for residents for years to come. It had lived up to everyone’s expectations; the hydroponic garden provided fresh vegetables, the dry goods pantry was barely a quarter empty even after eight months, and the water and air scrubbers were still operating. It was the small stuff that was bothering him. No one could have predicted how well the bunkers would hold up to constant use, since no one lived in them before Jim and Sarah.

He laughed as he replaced the dry erase marker. It was the biggest and best scam in the world: sell a multi-million dollar disaster bunker to the affluent, knowing that they couldn’t complain if something went wrong.

There wasn’t much of a chance of getting a repairman out to fix the sink.

Past the kitchen was the living room. Two “windows” stood on either side of the electric fireplace. The scene through the windows showed a rural town with sun painting the streets in shades of yellow and orange. A red pickup truck turned off the main street and disappeared behind Jake’s Diner.

“AXP-323,” Jim muttered. He could recite the truck’s license plate by memory, even while standing across the room. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked across the room while muttering to himself. “Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”

The windows were just televisions turned vertically, but it gave him the illusion of watching the real world. As Jim’s counted down to one, a red pickup truck drove down the main street, turned beside Jake’s Diner, and disappeared from view.

Sometimes he would bring the UV lights into the living room, change the image to the beach, and imagine himself laying in the sand. During the first few months, Sarah would join him. She’d put on a bikini and drag one of the recliners in front of the window like it was a beach chair. But eventually she stopped coming. She’d always had a harder time suspending her disbelief.

“It’s not real!” She’d yell as she stormed out of the living room. “None of this is real!”

Jim’s hand shook as he felt along the side of the television. Pushing one of the buttons, the image changed. It was still the rural town, but the buildings had gone through hell. Jake’s Diner was a pile of rubble. Twisted rebar and broken glass littered the road. A pickup truck – Jim always imagined it used to be red – was parked in the middle of the street. It had been burned down to a rusted and blackened husk.

He watched the outside security camera for a while before turning it back to the blissful sun-soaked roads. The image changed just in time for the red pickup to make another turn. There hadn’t been anyone moving in the security camera; it had been months since they’d seen another living person. He held out hope, even if Sarah struggled with their new reality. She no longer wanted to watch the security footage, but he stopped by once a day, always hoping to see someone scavenging through the ruined buildings.

Sighing, Jim sat down in an armchair. There were a million things he and Sarah used to do together, back when they first moved into the bunker. They’d have date nights in the movie theater. They’d garden together and gather the fresh herbs they’d use in their meals. Every night they’d turn on the overhead projectors so they could fall asleep beneath the stars.

Isolation had been hard on them both, but Sarah had taken it harder than he had. She was reserved these days, never saying a word and always keeping to herself.

But today would be different. This was their anniversary and Jim had made sure everything would be perfect. He was dressed to kill, their favorite meal was cooking in the oven.

He reached into his pocket and touched the golden heart-shaped pendant. And he had the perfect gift to celebrate. Living in a bunker, it was hard to surprise Sarah with thoughtful gifts, but Jim always managed to find a way.

The oven timer dinged and the smile returned to Jim’s face. He hurried into the kitchen and pulled the lasagna out of the oven. The canned tomato sauce and cheese bubbled along the edges and the smell was intoxicating. He didn’t set it on the kitchen counter, but carried it straight through to the dining room.

He set the scalding casserole dish onto insulated silicone mats. Electric candles flickered on the table, their light dancing off the two wine glasses.

“Dinner is served, love,” Jim said as he slipped off the oven mitts.

He made his way around to the far end of the table. “Happy anniversary.” He held up his hands before Sarah could respond. “I know, I know. I usually forget these things, but I made a special effort this year. You deserved it.”

Jim slipped behind her chair and reached into his pocket. “I got you something special.” He held onto the two ends of the unclasped chain and let the heart-shaped pendant dangle before her eyes. “I saw you looking at it before… well, before we came in here and I bought it. I was just waiting for the right time to surprise you.”

He laid the pendant against her chest and brought the two ends of the chain around her neck. Brushed aside her dry hair, Jim clasped the necklace into place. He leaned forward and placed a kiss against her mummified skin. It crackled beneath his moist lips.

As he stepped out from behind her chair, his leather shoes crunched on the dried blood splattered across the floor. He had to step gingerly to avoid the revolver that clattered across the tiles after it had slipped from her lifeless fingers.

Jim took his seat across the table and raised his wine glass.

“Happy anniversary, baby. Here’s to another amazing year together.”