Until we see the sky again.

I used to miss the sky. So blue and bright, stretching out forever. To my child-mind, it seemed to house endless adventures and opportunities. I thought of the concrete as evil; a cage, inescapable and constraining. But now the concrete walls and ceilings have become home. The cool, sturdy, gray concrete is now a watchful guardian that provides safety, a haven that protects us from the above.

I give a slight nervous tug to the straps of my backpack before clicking the chest strap into place. I ran my hands across the various items strapped to it and my belt as I run through the checklist in my head.

Canteen… check.

Machete… check.

Shovel… check.

Crowbar… check.

Head-mounted flashlight… check.

Rope… check.

Geiger counter… check.

Everything is where I packed it. The last three items lay on the ground in front of me; A pair of standard issue marine corps heavy duty gloves made of synthetic leather and Kevlar, A full-face respirator with two air filter attachments; and lastly, a large brown hunting rifle.

I pick up the mask and pull it over my head, pulling the straps tight on the sides, and feeling the slight pressure on my temple and cheeks as it seals to the sides of my head. They said the air should be clean enough to breathe without issue, but the mask is there in case there is radiated pollen, dogwood seeds, or something else in the air. Next is the rifle.

“Browning BAR Mark II, chambered in .300 Magnum.” I remember Steve saying as he handed it to me. “The scope is zeroed for 200 meters, but the gun itself is accurate for up to 1000. People been usin’ the .300 for big game huntin’; elk, deer, even heard people carryin’ it for grizzlies. Should put a hole in anything that size. Anythin’ bigger, and… well… I would suggest a good ole’ tactical retreat.”

Many people found Steve suspicious for taking over 15 different guns into the bunker, but over the years he has worked hard and sacrificed for others, so they treat him with more trust and respect now.

“One shot oughta’ do it, but this rifle’s semi-auto just in case. Mag holds four but you’re gonna wanna always keep one in the chamber. It kicks like a mule, though, so be sure to plant your feet and re-aim after getting the first shot off.”

I pick up the gun and click the cross-bolt safety into place, before swinging it over my left shoulder. I then pick up the three extra magazines laid next to it, and stuff them into the left back pocket of my jeans.

“Sarah.”

I hear a voice behind me as I strap the gloves tight around my wrists. I turn to see Evelyn walking towards me with a pensive look on her face. She is the unofficial leader of the bunker, having been a chief nurse officer before the bombs dropped. She is tall and beautiful; long red hair falls just past her shoulders, with a smattering of freckles across her face that would be pale even if she hadn’t spent most of her adult life in an underground bunker.

“Here’s that identification guide I said I would give you.” She hands me a large binder. I take it and flip through the first couple of pages. Inside are pictures and small descriptions of the native animals of the Pacific Northwest region; a couple of species of birds, some squirrels, racoons, deer, and the like.

“Most should look about the same, the radiation couldn’t have changed them that much. They might have boils, tumors, or growths, but nothing should have changed their appearance too drastically. If you see something that looks truly abominable, like a Frankenstein of a creature, that is one of them. Do not engage unless your life is immediately in danger. If you have to fight, aim for the lower right part of the torso, that’s where the Pennywise gland should be.”

“Right.” I answer, putting the binder into my backpack, before giving her a reassuring smile that I hope she can see through the respirator. “But, Frankenstein was the name of the doctor, the monster's real name is just ‘Frankenstein’s monster.’”

She grins.

“You know what I mean. We don’t know if the REX’s are still out there, we may have succeeded in killing them straight up in the initial blasts, or starved them out after the fallout settled in, but either way, be careful. I sure hope that those things aren’t hardy enough to survive 20 years of exposure.”

REX’s. They came from the sky. I was only six years old when it happened, but I remember it well. Hundreds of hexagons appeared in the upper atmosphere, you could see five or six of them, evenly spaced in the sky, from anywhere on the planet. They appeared to be roughly the same size as the moon appears during the day. Millions of eggs were dropped onto the surface of the planet from these hexagons. Before we fully understood what had happened, they had begun to wreak havoc on every ecosystem on earth. All they knew to do is consume and grow, the larger they grew the more they had to consume. The few that were killed or captured were dissected by governments and medical personnel. They found a unique organ in their digestive tract that dissolved DNA strands from organic material, and then spliced it into their own genetic code. They called that organ the “Pennywise gland” after the shapeshifting clown from IT. Thus the name REX was born; Rapidly Evolving Xeno.

My mother had shown me a picture of one when I was 18. It was horrible. It lay on an operating table, chest splayed open and outwards, ribs bent or removed, internal organs all showing and seemingly dyed with a dark purple substance, which must have been its blood. Its skin was a deep black that shone almost silver in the light. They were said to be small, insect-looking things when they first hatched from the eggs, but with the Pennywise gland, they quickly took on the physical characteristics of whatever it is they can get into their mouths. The one I saw had the head and jaws of an alligator, but its teeth were smaller and curved backwards, like the fangs of a snake. It had eight pitch-black spider eyes situated across its head. Its whole body had the scale pattern of a small reptile, like an iguana or monitor lizard. Its bulky, reptilian arms ended in the folded, spiked forearms and claws of a praying mantis, while its legs ended in the long, powerful feet of a rabbit. Whomever was doing the dissection had placed a yardstick on the table, which showed it to be about 5 feet in length. Even as an adult, I still had nightmares about that… thing.

“Sarah… it’s going to be alright, it's been 20 years, I’m sure most of the biggest ones have starved or succumbed to radiation poisoning. But if you do see one, run. You don’t have to be a hero. Your job isn’t to hunt them down. It’s to get to the stream.” Evelyn said. She must have seen the look on my face as I remembered the REX.

I tried to clear my mind of that haunting picture, and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Right.” I think back to my instructions at the briefing last week. “Get to the creek a mile and a half northeast, see if it’s dried up. If it is, dig for a few feet until I hit the limestone bedrock, then run the geiger counter over it, to see if it’s absorbed any radiation.”

“Perfect. If we can get some clean limestone, our groundwater filtration plans become that much easier and safer.”

I take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. The massive door in front of me is all that stands between me, our home, our safe little world -- dark, quiet, familiar -- and the above. The world we once ruled, shaped and bent to our needs, to our will, now reduced to a hostile wasteland of danger and fear.

“Before you go, I have one last thing for you.” Evelyn reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small heart shaped locket.

“Margaret wanted me to give this to you.” She hands it to me.

It takes a few tries with my thick gloves, but I manage to click it open. Inside is a picture of Margaret and her late husband Paul. They look happy; arms around each other's shoulders, big smiles across their faces.

“She asked if you could find a nice place in the sun to leave that locket.”

There is a small handwritten inscription inside the front cover of the locket: ‘Until we see the sky again, the blue of your eyes is the greatest light in my life.’.

Paul was a good man. He was the grandpa of all the kids in the bunker, helping us with chores, sneaking us some of the candy he had brought with him when our parents weren’t looking. He had a stroke a few months ago, could have survived it, but refused further medical attention. He said that his life was full and complete, to save the medicine we had for the younger generation.

“I will.”

I close the locket and put it around my neck.

“Good luck Sarah. Your watch and compass are working, right?”

I push up my left sleeve to expose the two devices strapped around my forearm.

“Yeah. Two hours, right?”

“Yep. I will be waiting here for you to return. Give two loud knocks on the door, and I will open it back up for you.”

She gives me another reassuring smile, before turning and walking back into the bunker.

I roll my sleeve back down, and turn to face the doors. With a considerable amount of effort, I manage to turn the wheel. I hear the lock get displaced inside the steel. With a hard push, the door starts creaking open. The grating sound of steel on concrete echoes throughout the bunker's entrance. A bright light shines through the door and illuminates the entrance as the door opens. Once it's opened enough to squeeze through, I put my hand up to block the blinding sunlight, take a deep breath, and begin to walk into the old world.