It’s been a couple days since May showed up on my doorstep. The first night she had stayed I had heard her yelling my name in fear. I remember rolling out of bed and running to the intercom. If anything happened to her it would be my fault.

She had had a nightmare. I sat at the screens and hummed her a lullaby until she could fall asleep again. Then I moved my bed into the lab so I could more quickly respond. She woke me up the next morning singing some little song she was probably making on the fly.

Now I get up and hit the intercom to say, “Good morning, May. You sleep okay?”

She starts coughing again but pulls herself up to the intercom and responds, “Ok. I’m cold.”

I rub my face and the back of my neck, trying to ignore what she said. Of course she’s cold, but at least she has food. Right? I see her pull some of that dried meat out and start to chew. She has some cans in there too, doesn’t she have a can opener?

“Well, I have to get to maintenance. I’ll be back real quick. Ok?”

She mumbles, “Ok.”

I sigh and set about my chores. Everything is fine, as usual. The whole time I’m working she’s all I can think about. Maybe if I just let her into the airlock? It’ll be warmer, at least. I can give her things if I’m careful.

But no, I can’t do that. Obviously if I open my door while she’s IN the airlock whatever she’s carrying will just worm it’s way inside and I could be dead within a week. But maybe that’s ok. Doesn’t she deserve this place more than me?

I’m manning the air pump when I lose it. I dash my toolbox across the floor and slump to the ground. I can’t just LEAVE her out there. Shit. Maybe I can seal off an area of the bunker. I could make her up one of the spare rooms, there are enough. As long as I close the room’s vent off it’ll only exchange air with the outside, through the filters, and not contaminate the rest of the bunker.

It’ll have to work. I’m starting to feel pretty good about the idea when I take a seat at the monitors. It occurs to me that she hasn’t asked me once if she could come in. Although it’s only been a couple days, maybe she’s too polite. Heh. Who’d have thought the last kid on Earth would be a sweet one?

I’m about to hit the intercom when I spot some movement on the other camera feed.

Two men are stomping through the mud. They look starved and ragged. I remember what May had said about her parents. Could these be the ones that did the deed? Were things so bad out there hunting children was a valid preoccupation? Maybe it was the bag she was dragging around. I can’t imagine what food is worth.

Ok…so no time for my original plan. I have to save May. Which means I either let her in now or head out there and kill them both. It’s a good thing I’ve been taking care of my pistol.

Tags: apocalypse, child, military, survival

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 7th, 2012 at 12:00 am and is filed under Jack Finley's Blog, Reporter's Blogs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.