The Shelter

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

If she does, they’ll both die.

Her best friend Robbie tells her, pleading.

***

One minute they were looking for her phone after his party, then Robbie was suddenly panicking and dragging her to his bomb shelter while his phone blared the emergency evacuation alert.

That first night they ate canned beans.

Jenn wanted to open a second can, and he’d shaken his head. “I wasn’t expecting company. I should still have enough. But, uh, just barely.”

Then he had confessed: “Jenna I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here too Robbie. You’re my best friend.”

He’d frowned and looked away. Then, “yeah.”

***

This morning he is up before her.

He gives her two cans.

“What are we celebrating?”

He cracks a sad smile. “nothing Jenna. I just. Well, I don’t…. Nothing.”

The awkwardness nearly chokes her.

“It’s not nothing Robbie. What?”

He sighs. “No it’s not nothing. But it’s fine. Remember when I asked you out?”

She laughs, “I said I’d rather stay friends, and you agreed. So?”

He winces, turns away. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just, we’re survivors. You know?”

Suddenly this shelter feels too small. A fear creeps into her mind.

Did he think surviving the apocalypse together meant they should be together?

Did he want her to think that?

Was he hoping she’d fall in love down here? Or fuck him?

She pulls away from him in their microscopic living space.

“I am NOT Attracted to you Robbie!”

His eyes water.

He tries to hide. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s fine.

Fine?

Could this be a trick?

Couldn’t an app fake that alert? Where was her phone anyway? What if Robbie hid it?

She leaps for the door…

He begs her not to go.