Concrete Walls

The silence of the room was thick, the uncomfortable quiet was heavy enough to make anyone stir crazy. Among the five people sitting in a circle across from one another on the cement flooring, hiding away in the shelter that had been built by the small farming community five years prior, not one person could bring up the courage to speak. There had been talk for decades of nuclear attacks, radiation, waste, another cold war, but it had come to a point where no one expected it to happen. But it finally happened. The bombs were dropped a few miles away into the residing city, hardly giving enough time for those in the outskirts to get to safety – if there was safety for them to begin with.

“Should we turn on the radio?” Lonnie, the oldest of the group asked, his voice gruff from years of smoking and alcohol abuse. His gray blue eyes halted on Warner’s built frame.

“God, will there even be something to hear if we turn it on?” Barbara whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke. Warner rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze in order to comfort her nerves.

“All we can do is try, what do we have to lose?” Warner finally said, standing to his full height of six foot four, briskly walking to the kitchen area in the back of the fortified house. On the corner counter beside the stove top was a small, old fashioned radio – one that had been donated by a family a few doors down that had not made it in time. Slowly turning the dial back and forth, trying to get a signal, Warner listened in for a few moments in hopes of receiving the answer they were all waiting for – that they were not alone. But as he turned the knob, only to be met with static, did they realize they only had each other for the time being.

In the corner closest to the living quarters sat Shelby, a young blonde who had been quiet up to this point. Her family had only recently moved into the community, moving onto property that had been sold off by Warner and Barbara when his mother passed, but they had been welcomed in with open arms. She leaned forward, her hand gripping at the delicate heart shaped locket around her throat, the silver worn from old age. Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes, quickly falling down her pressed, reddened cheeks.

“What if we’re all that is left?” Shelby cried out; her voice stumbling to make words. Her body shook as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms then wrapping around them tightly.

“Now calm down, we don’t know that.” Warner said while Barbara took Shelby’s left hand into her own. “We just have to wait out the radiation, someone will come to rescue us, I’m sure of it.”

“But what if no one does?” Ian, Lonnie’s son mumbled, his calloused hands going through his crew cut hair.

“We can not begin freaking out. We are safe now. We have food and water, we have enough supplies to last us a while, right Lonnie?” Warner said as he came out of the kitchen. Silence followed Warner’s question, causing everyone to turn their attention to Lonnie. It was then that Lonnie lifted his head only to shake it back and forth.

“What do you mean ‘no’? You oversaw stocking this place with the Addler family.” Barbara questioned, her eyes widening at the damning revelation and hell they were about to all endure.

“We oversaw it, but we didn’t think there would actually be fallout. We didn’t know the bombs would fall!” Lonnie yelled, standing up, his arms going into the air as he panicked.

“We’re going to die down here.” Shelby said with a strained voice, followed by a sob.

“How could you do this, Lonnie?” Barbara screamed, also pulling herself to her feet, her heavy body weight causing her to stumble for a second due to her sudden movement.

“Everyone calm down!” Warner’s voice boomed, causing everyone to lower theirs. “Lonnie, is there any supplies at all? Just how bad of a situation are we in?”

“The water taps are attached to purifiers so those are safe to drink from. The last I checked there was a few boxes of cereal and some crackers, but it’s nothing to write home about.” Lonnie responded while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Warner, that isn’t enough food to sustain us, it’s just prolonging us dying in here.” Barbara retorted, grabbing ahold of her husband’s arm. Her hazel eyes searched his as he rapidly started making plans up in his head.

“We’ll ration what we have, and hope help comes in that time frame. For now, let’s just try to make this place home. Ian, come help me with the radio. Maybe we can get a signal if we keep playing with it.” Ian followed Warner into the kitchen, his height only a few inches shorter. Barbara scowled in Lonnie’s direction before walking past him and Shelby into the bunking room.

The first week would drone on slowly and painstakingly become two weeks, and slowly their supply of necessities would dwindle until they were left with nothing. Hunger pangs were beginning to bother everyone in the fallout shelter, especially Barbara and Warner who had been used to eating larger meals than everyone else. These feelings were not left without emotions of anger and frustration. It was while most of the group was in the kitchen that things began to turn an ugly head.

Barbara was leaning against the counter, her head falling back onto her shoulders as she stretched her neck. Warner was sipping the last of the instant coffee packs that they had from a mug while standing next to his wife. Ian stood close by, tuning the radio, trying to find any sort of link but was only met with static when Lonnie voiced the first complaint.

“Shut the damn thing off, it’s been nothing but useless for two weeks now. I’m getting tired of the static.” Lonnie spat, shoving his son’s hand out of the way and grasping the radio, turning it over to remove the batteries.

“Dad, we won’t know if someone will reach out at some point or not if we don’t keep trying.” Ian responded with a grunt, taking the batteries from his father’s hand.

“Ian is right, Lonnie. Just sit out at the couch, you don’t hear it so much from in there.” Barbara said as she walked over to the kitchen sink, getting herself a glass of tap water.

“Why, so I can hear the girl crying from the bedroom? It’s either I listen to the static or I listen to sobbing. I’m sick of it.”

“Mind yourself, Lonnie.” Warner said, placing his mug on the counter. “Girl lost everyone in the blast. She’s allowed to mourn.”

“She’ll be seeing them soon enough if we don’t figure out something with the food supply.”

“It’s not like we can plant anything down here. There’s hardly enough light for us to see. The bedroom doesn’t even have lights, it’s just candles.” Barbara responded, turning her head to look at everyone.

“We need to make some decisions.” Lonnie’s lip quivered as he spoke. “I don’t like the idea either but if we don’t have food soon, we’re going to starve to death.”

“It takes more than a few weeks to starve to death, Dad.” Ian said while scratching his cheek. “If you think you’re hungry now, just wait until a month has passed and you haven’t eaten anything.”

“So what do we do?” Barbara asked.

“We need to decide who is going to get us through to next month.” Lonnie said, clearing his throat afterward. Silence filled the air again as the other three registered what he had just said.

“You mean… eat someone?” Barbara whispered, her eyebrows furrowing angrily. “How dare you bring this up, even as an idea you rotten old man. You are the reason we’re starving!”

“We’re farmers, Barbara. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, just a different kind of body.”

“You’re sick, mad even. The hunger has gone to your head.” She threw up her hands and began to walk away when Lonnie grabbed her arm.

“You think I want to eat one of us? If I were worth anything I’d offer myself but I’m barely even bones.” Lonnie said in a hushed tone.

“So who are you thinking of then, Dad?” Ian questioned.

“Shelby.” He said simply.

“Shelby? Why?” Warner asked, his face revealing a puzzled expression.

“She’s losing it. She isn’t meant for this kind of haul. We could easily do it.”

At first the group disagreed, just the idea of trying to fathom eating one of their own was disturbing enough as it was but as the next week came to an end and the fourth week started – hunger became more than just a problem in the back of their minds. One by one they agreed to taking Shelby’s life, Barbara being the last to accept it. However, it was while they were discussing who would cut her throat in her sleep that she awoke and listened in to their plans.

“Oh God, they’re planning to kill me?” Shelby mouthed, covering her lips with her hand. Her petite frame barely made up for a third of the bed, emerald eyes and face swollen from tears that had fallen in memory of her family. But there were no tears now, only a stained expression of utter hate.

That night, around eleven after everyone had fallen into slumber, Shelby tiptoed into the kitchen and pulled a sharp blade from the utensil drawer. Hiding it away in her long shirt, she made her way back to the bedroom, returning to her bed where she laid awake until she heard movement from beside her.

It was just after two in the morning when she heard a bed shift and then felt air brush against the back of her neck. Quickly she drew out the knife and gouged it into the stomach of the person standing over her, knocking the wind out of them in the blow. Shelby turned over and ripped the knife from the belly of who turned out to be Ian, now standing over him, blood dripping from the blade that she gripped tightly in her right hand.

“Shelby, please.” Ian pleaded, holding his wound with his left hand while reaching out his right.

Shelby’s foot then came down on his throat, pressing into his windpipe. He heaved, his hand gripping around her ankle which she easily shook off. Grabbing onto the edge of the bed frame, she began thrusting her foot into his head, kicking him violently until he fell quiet.

Around four AM the others awoke, a trail of blood leading them out to the kitchen space. There they found Shelby and what remained of Ian – at least, what could not be cooked and eaten. Lonnie dropped to his knees and began to sob at the loss of his son. Barbara stood in shock, staring at the massacre that had become the room, blood spatter all over the floor and counters, but most of all on Shelby, who was sitting in the mess, twisting her locket around in her blood-soaked fingers.

“Looks like we won’t be going hungry after all.” Shelby said, throwing her knife toward the threesome as she stared at them all with an empty expression.