As The Darkness Swallows Me

One hundred years ago, humanity fell like bombs raining from a grey sky. We had destroyed the world around us with our hate towards each other, poisoning the dirt beneath our feet with such venom that grass no longer grew. The air above became clouded as gasses built up, the carcasses of birds plummeting to the ground like acid rain. My ancestors had to flee underground as weapons of destruction fell from the heavens like angels of death, destroying everything they touched. Well, at least that’s what the rumors say. Sometimes I have nightmares about what it must have been like, the loud screams, the scuffling feet of the masses as they clawed to get into bunkers far beneath the surface, the sirens blaring in the distance as a large ball of light came rushing, closer and closer as the clock ticked.

“Haze? Haze. Haze!”

My eyes fly open at the sound of someone calling my name and I sit up, my heart racing in my chest as I try to breathe. Nightmares always seem to plague my mind. I briefly look around my room as I try to shake myself from the revolting feeling of destruction. It is a mundane place, the walls were sickly white, as are the floors. There are no decorations or furniture to distract from such uniform, boring walls, only two grey beds sitting on either side of one another. The air itself within the room seems to be forever stagnant, never moving from place, forever clean without a speck of dust drifting from it.

I look up as I feel a hand press against my shoulder, the buzz of fluorescent lights ringing in my head for a moment. Even in the night hours the lights remain on and will always be on. My eyes fall on the speaker, my roommate and only friend, a young woman who calls herself Ghost. She is seventeen at most with a friendly face and large, crystal blue eyes. Her platinum blonde-white hair is cropped short to her skull, shaved to show her status. All of us have pale, sickly skin, my own, I think, was supposed to be a rich caramel at one point, but is now a sickeningly pale, off shade of white.

I dumbly look around for a moment, staring until I snap back into reality. “...What?” I question with my sluggish, tired voice, raspy from a restless night. I sit up more and cross my arms, giving Ghost what I hope is an expectant look, only to be met with a scoff.

She took her hand off of my shoulder and stood up straight, mirroring my expression almost perfectly. It is enough to make me feel watched, that's for sure.

“What’re you ‘whatting’ at me for? ” She asks, giving a moody huff. “You were thinking again, weren’t you? It’s like the Commanders say. A thoughtful soldier is no soldier at all.” Ghost places her hands on her hips, staring down at me. “Leave the thinking to Bunker III, okay? They’re the ones that’r supposed to have the fat heads, not you.”

I can feel my face heat from beneath her gaze. Bunker III, where the ‘intellectually gifted’ are meant to be raised, much unlike the brutality of Bunker II, my personal home.

There are about four bunkers that make up my little white-washed world, Bunker I; the Lower Class, Bunker II; The Enforcers, Bunker III; The Intellectuals, and finally, Bunker IV; The Ruling Class. The bunkers are only miles away from one another, separated by winding subway systems. I always imagine Bunker IV to be plump with food, where everyone has full bellies and satisfied faces.

I am abruptly pulled from my thoughts by a sharp snap and I jump, looking up at Ghost.

“Uh, hello, I was talking for a full five minutes and you zoned out on me.” She scowls, rubbing her temple. “I-” She let out a sigh and shook her head, seemingly letting go of her frustration. “Nevermind.. Just get dressed. Meat is on the menu and I don't wanna miss it.” With that, she walks off, pulling her uniform from under her bed and slipping it on.

I absentmindedly nod as I stand and stretch, grabbing my own uniform. The uniforms are all the same in Bunker II, a dull grey jumper with black lace up boots and dog tags that hold our identification numbers. I quickly slip the fabric on and tie my boots before yawning, my stomach growling from hunger.

Ghost is already at the door when I begin to walk over, impatiently tapping her foot. “Ight, c’mon. I swear you move as fast as a dying cockroach.” She huffs.

I don't blame her for being so impatient, delicacies like meat are rarely ever given out. Something that isn't the white slop of nutrition that made up our usual daily rations. I eagerly nod and join her at the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and stepping out of our blank room, into the main complex.

The main complex looks like a city of metal doors and railing. My own door is a hundred feet up, both under and on top of thousands of other metal doors, exactly like it. There is a sea of people dressed in the same outfits, the same blankness. All of us have the same buzz cut hair, the same sickly pale skin, the same dead eyes. I walk along the grey path towards the eating stations crowded with hungry people, subconsciously keeping an eye on Ghost. The warm smell of meat hits me like a bomb and makes my stomach feel all the more empty as pangs of hunger grip my core. I turn to Ghost with a grin to see that she is practically drooling, herself.

“Lets get going!” I exclaim, hunger pushing me forward as I grab her hand and rush past the crowds, bumping into people. Until I felt something grip my shoulder.

I turn, expecting to see Ghost’s small hand but am met with an ugly robotic exoskeleton. I look up to see Commander 451208. He is a tall husk of a man, more robot than person. Bunker II is known for its super soldiers, soldiers who slowly have robotic augmentations replace their bodies bit by bit, becoming nearly invincible. It is as normal as breathing here, but Commander 451208 is different. He is the most augmented I have ever seen anyone, there isn't an inch of visible skin on him.

“Number 20891411518. You are to return to your living quarters immediately.” His robotic voice spurts out, metallic, skeletal face giving me a blank stare.

My heart jumps into my throat and suddenly, I'm no longer hungry. I turn to Ghost and let go of her hand, giving her a small nod, one that she understands. Her pale figure drifts off, disappearing in the crowd.

“You are to be escorted by me.” Commander states, before walking away towards my room, pulling me with him. When we got there I look up, seeing that the door is wide open. My skin blanches as I feel Commander 451208 let go of me, ushering me into my room before closing the door behind me.

The room is a complete mess, uniforms scattered, beds shoved against the wall, sheets torn off and on the floor. I turn, seeing a rather small man. He has long, elegant black hair tied back in a bun and brown, beady eyes. Though, my curiosity is drawn to his clothes rather than his face. The delicate fabric is flowing and colorful and… different, a large ‘IV’ stitched into the front with vibrant golden material. I go silent, shock running through me at such beauty. Colors I have never even imagined, materials I never thought I would see. I gape at him, staring.

He sighs, “That is no way to address someone of my status but I will take it regardless.” The man sneers with a roll of his eyes. He saw my attention turn to his clothes and smirked before reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looks like an old, heart shaped locket with a doodle of a ghost on the back. “I found this in your room.” He states, beady eyes looking me up and down.

I pause, staring for a moment before clearing my throat, “Ah. You did?” I question, too shocked to realize how out of place and awkward my voice is.

The man seems unamused with my answer. “Yes. Look inside..” He says, speaking slowly as if I were a child. He threw the locket my way and I immediately reach out and catch it. I blink, opening the locket to see a drawing of two figures resting on verdure grass beneath a brilliant sky. A drawing like this would be strictly forbidden... There is nothing beyond our mundane walls.

“Do you draw much?” He questions, crossing his arms behind his back and circling around me like a fly.

Did… Ghost do this..? Something is wrong. I feel like I swallowed a mouthful of rancid food. Ghost? Ghost doesn't like drawing. She likes fighting and food. What is he going to do to her? My blood begins to turn cold and I freeze, watching in slow motion as he began to walk towards the door. I can't let anything happen to Ghost, she is my best friend, my only friend.

“Yes-” I blurt out before I can stop myself, adrenaline beginning to run through my veins. “This is mine,” I say, my heart racing.

The man pauses with that answer and turns to face me with a sickening smile. “Splendid. Then a transfer is in order.” He says, stepping back and giving me room to breathe.

“Transfer?” I ask as I furrow my eyebrows, both adrenaline, confusion, and insatiable curiosity wracking my brain.

“Of course. You will be transferred to Bunker III, you have proven yourself to be quite... imaginable.” He replies with a bored, flat tone.

Questions form on my tongue but not before the door behind me slams open and Commander 451208 grabs my neck and jams a syringe in my temple. I let out a strangled scream, fighting but it is no use against the robotic super soldier. I can feel my consciousness fading and my struggling quietly becoming more pathetic.

SMACK

I feel my body collide with something hard and cold and I groan, my consciousness sluggishly returning to me. My entire body aches and I slowly sit up. When I open my eyes I see nothing. I look around, my eyes, so used to blinding light, see darkness for the first time. I try to stand, panic pulling at my body as I sloppily fall back to the ground, only to try to get back up again.

I stop, though, when I hear a cold laugh and see a bright light. I pick myself up and push myself forward, desperate to get to the light that is only about fifteen or so feet away from myself. My eyes widen when I see the man from before standing in a doorway. “You! Wh-Where am I?” I scream, my head buzzing with fear.

Horror twists its claws around my spine and I inch forward, jumping when I hear a sharp CRACK from beneath me. I slowly look down, and, to my horror, there is an old skull in the light of the doorway, so brittle it cracked under the pressure of my boot. My eyes widen and my breath forces itself from my throat. I turn, looking at the cavernous darkness, and, in the light from the doorway, I see piles of old bones, hundreds of skulls, thousands of empty eye sockets all watching my frantic movements.

“Welcome to Bunker III, home of the Intellectuals!” The man exclaims before abruptly flinging the door closed.

I watch, paralyzed with fear as the darkness swallows me.