Carol's Locket

Smoke tinged wind kicked up silty dust, and Sid didn’t need to acknowledge the orange glow on the horizon to know the firestorm would soon be upon him. Ahead a bunker screened by dense wilted foliage veiled itself well amidst the underbrush. He hoped they still lived. Sid picked a wide approach, seeking to avoid detection. Carol and Emma needed to survive on their own, now.

He patted his left breast pocket. Good, the locket’s still there, he thought. No point coming this far without it. Moving with deliberate haste, Sid approached a chain-link fence more overgrown than the bunker. In his rush, he only saw the barrier moments before colliding with it. Dust and soot in equal measure blew everywhere, obscuring his vision. If I can’t see, they can’t see me either, he thought, concerned.

Sid leapt the fence, grasping the links after landing to muffle its rattle. The Scavengers hunting him didn’t need more assistance to find him than he already had given. Hopefully he’d drawn them away from Carol, but he had no way to know. He paused for a moment, heard nothing, then sprinted for the overhang that sheltered the bunker’s metal door.

“Moment of truth,” he said. Wiping away dust from a faded keypad, he punched in the code he’d memorized. 956274. No response. Sid tried again. He’d expected beeps, or lights. Something. Was the whole bunker dead? He pulled the heart-shaped locket from his pocket and popped the catch. Why had Carol given him this locket? He could feel the air temperature around him rise, and sweat soaked through his camouflage uniform. It wouldn’t be long now.

Sid upended the locket, dumping the contents into his left hand. A wadded up piece of paper, and a thin flat computer storage chip. The paper had the same numbers, but he realized he’d transposed the two and the four. Punching in the new combination yielded him no further success. He smacked his hand on the doorframe in frustration. Something shorted inside, and Sid heard a zap as a red backlight illuminated the keypad. Not missing a beat, he fingered the keycode once more, 956472.

A motor whined and hummed, struggling to turn jammed gears. Sid cringed at the noise, but he’d stopped caring for stealth now. The firestorm crackled with intensity and he knew it was too close. He cursed the languid mechanisms that kept him outside. Time waited for nothing, not even the firestorm. The six inch gap was not enough to struggle through.

Sid grabbed and tugged, trying to find the best angle to wrest just a few more inches to fit through. His desperation grew as the metal door became hot to the touch. He heard the chain link fence rattle. Risking a glance over his shoulder he saw two Scavengers drop down on his side. Behind them, he saw their two motorcycles. Their engines had been drowned out by the doors’ faulty gearage mechanism. He swore.

“Hey, I’m here, hurry!” He yelled, cracking his voice. “ No more time! I’m out of time, I can’t get the door open. Help!” He heard no response. Both Scavengers charged him now, their path laid bare. “Never enough time,” he sighed. Fight or flight, which would it be? Could he still evade them and escape? He replaced the computer chip into the locket, engaged the catch, and wrapped it with its chain. Reaching inside the gap, his awkward throw placed it out of reach of the scavengers.

Sid withdrew his arms and raised them to show his empty hands. “It’s gone, and we’ve got minutes to get out of here. Your choice.” He did not resist them. They bound his hands behind him and hobbled his feet, then did a rough search of his person. Flames licked around the bunker. They turned to run, but one Scavenger paused, considering. It took out the key to Sid’s freedom, and threw it over the bunker into the oncoming inferno before mounting its motorbike and fleeing after its companion.

***

Shaking and exhausted, Eric opened the secondary blast door, enough to slip through with a flashlight. Already the temperature between the primary and secondary doors had risen to unbearable levels as the firestorm engulfed the external bunker. Why had they chosen this one? It had been one of the earliest built after the first strikes, but it had also been the closest one bunker to reach.

He had only minutes before the room would be unbearable, forcing him to retreat. Swinging the flashlight across the floor he saw the chain of the locket glinting, partially unraveled. Eric ran over and picked it up, inspecting the catch. It remained intact. With a soft shake, he felt something *tink* inside and nodded, satisfied. This had better be worth the cost, he thought. He slipped through the blast door to safety and sealed it shut again, before descending the winding steps to safety below.

***

Maggy looked up from her computer, undisguised sorrow in her eyes. She’d tracked the approach of the firestorm from failing satellite feeds and patchy CC tv coverage. Radiation readings had grown until the radiographic monitoring instruments sent only continuous static, then ceased. When Sid’s last moments had come, she’d switched off the monitor. She hadn’t told him how bad things had gotten. She’d made the decision to request him, even knowing of the new strikes planned. Eric entered the room, shoulders slumped. Her husband could never be told.

“Sid didnt make it, hun,” he said.

“I know. I watched. Mostly.” Eric nodded at her. “Well, bring it here,” she ordered. He walked over and handed it across her desk.

She undid the catch and pulled out the chip. It appeared undamaged. Sid at least had had the foresight to somehow wrap the paper around it in a hurry.

“Carol, please forgive me,” she whispered, clicking the chip into the reader on her computer and turning on the monitor once more. Eric stepped around the desk to look. Dozens of folders appeared, thumbnails showing photographs and videos of Sid and Carol. Their daughter Emma. Time at the beach. Birthdays. A wedding. Parties.

“Mags...what are we looking at? Where are the launch codes? The interface sequences? We can’t launch the counterstrike without...Did she send us the wrong files?” Eric yelled at his wife. “Our daughter sent us the wrong files!”

Maggy turned and softly grasped her husband’s hand. “This world ends, Eric. I bought her time.” She sighed. “I asked her for these files specifically. You got a glimpse of the outside. We’re cut off now. The enemy was too thorough. I saw the contamination readings.”

“How the hell does this help anything, Mags? Photographs?” Eric stood aghast.

“We can’t save ourselves here, Eric. The command lines were severed by last night’s strikes. I didn’t want to die with revenge in my heart. I wanted only to remember the good times.”

“You can’t be sure she survived,” he said.

“You can’t be sure she perished,” she countered. “Either way, all we have now are memories. What else is a locket for?”

***

Story continues in Carol's Daughter