Alone

            Its two years to the day. I double-check the date on the wall calendar then stand and stretch myself out. I try not to allow myself to dwell on this fact. It’s just another day. And, hey…it also means it’s the end of the month and time to change rooms! Again. One thousand rooms meant I wouldn’t have to re-use an old one for three years at least. Well, almost. I had three months’ worth of rooms “in hand”.

            When it first happened, and let’s not be prudish here; when our government thought they could be strong enough and fast enough to win a pre-emptive first-strike war, I was down here in the facility, armed with a clipboard checking the entertainment servers. That’s right. I was sent to check the latest movies, music and TV seasons were stored and up to date, in the unlikely circumstance of our country’s great and good needing some amusement while they sat out the apocalypse. Sustenance was obviously something kept fresh on a regular basis. Unfortunately for the government, our enemy’s surveillance clocked onto my visit, and it being entirely out of routine, had a twitchy trigger finger. Boom! A nation nuked because the President wanted to binge watch the latest dystopian near-future drama. And I was stuck here. Sealed inside.

            Well, not quite. There’s a long corridor from the reception of the facility to the only door to the outside world. You can’t get in unassisted from the outside, but I can walk out when I feel like it. The big red light above the door, with the label ‘Radiation’ puts me off, though. I’ll wait until I see the green light.

            As I showered, I reflected on my two years here. Two years of solitude. At first, I stuck to the one bedroom and ventured only to the huge kitchens when I needed to, stockpiling days of food so that I could hide away. Hide away from what? When the nukes fell, the door automatically locked me in and I was the only person on site. But you know that feeling; big empty building, large open space, but you’re sure there is someone else there? You have the feeling that someone is just behind you; you can be in the middle of the Mojave Desert but spin around, convinced you are being watched. I had that feeling in gallons, washing over me in tidal waves of fear. I ran everywhere after I left my room. Thankfully, all rooms were en-suite, and the kitchens were stocked with plenty of food that needed no cooking or preparation. Day after day, night after night, I sat in silence straining my ears for any sound that might be out of place, any feeling in the atmosphere that my air might be being breathed by another.

            After two weeks, in which I had no idea what was going on outside; my life consisting of mad dashes from room to kitchen and kitchen to room, I decided something had to be done. In a moment of clarity I decided to use the information I had at hand. I broke the silence by switching the TV on. I then scrolled through the myriad of self-help documentaries on the server until I found what I needed. It took a while; literally a step at a time outside my door, followed by pausing and breathing deeply, resisting the temptation to spin around and run. After a month I could walk to the kitchen. A few days later, I could remain in the kitchen and cook a meal.

            At the end of the third month I was bold enough to head for the control room. It was no good. No communications with outside worked. I had to accept that I’d be here until someone came to get me, if anyone had survived, or take a chance and walk out myself. The good news was the CCTV for the facility was up and running. I studied every communal space, kitchen, dining room and gym. Nothing moved, nothing was out of place. I scrolled through the room menu and only the one I had been using showed an entry or exit time after I was sealed in. All others were listed as “Locked” with a date some years in the past, mothballed for future use.

I was alone.

            Then came the despair. Everyone I had known could be dead. I was stuck in here. No other human interaction for, god knows, how long? Once again I was running, but this time not in fear. I ran through the facility to the entrance and exit corridor and bounded along it to the door separating me and the outside world. The facility is big. As I’ve said there’s a thousand rooms plus all the other areas. The glow from the radiation light bathed me in red and gave me pause as I caught my breath. I looked at the door. I looked at the red warning light. Not such a good idea. I walked back to my room, lay on the bed and cried.

            The next two years I built a routine. It was the only thing to do for my sanity. Every month, change rooms to another part of the facility. For the most part this was just laziness; changing rooms cut down on cleaning. But it also stopped my journeys to and from other parts of the facility being repetitive and prison-like. Every other day I used the gym. Daytime was used to train myself with all the different survival documentaries on the server for what may lie ahead. I became an excellent cook of the world’s cuisine. I learnt basic French and German in the hope that Europe had survived. In the evenings I rotated my movie and TV show watching between comedy, serious, and action adventures.

Last night was a Saturday. Saturday nights I allowed myself alcohol from the kitchen stores and went on porn binges. And there was plenty to binge on; the government had made sure of that. My Sundays were spent, bizarrely, feeling guilty and erasing traces of what I’d been watching the night before. I suppose some habits die hard.

I finished my shower and dressed. Following breakfast I headed toward the control room to erase the previous night’s “shame” from the servers…

            …clang, clang, clang!

            I froze…clang, clang, clang! It was the unmistakeable sound of metal upon metal. It was distant and came from the direction of the corridor…clang, clang, clang! With heart-pounding, I ran, not in fear this time, but anticipation tinged with a slight apprehension. Clang, clang, clang! As I reached the corridor, the first thing I noticed was the usual red glow that greeted me had been replaced with green. Clang, clang, clang! The noise was much louder now. Unless the radiation sensors were faulty, outside would now be all clear. Clang, clang, clang! Someone was definitely banging on the door with something. Without thinking I hit the door release code. With a loud hiss, the seal was released and the door swung inwards…clang, clang…I ducked as a metal pole swung inwards and came to rest narrowly missing my head.

            As I stepped outside the door, my first impression was that I was on a different planet. Nothing outside was how I remembered. Everything was grey dust, rubble, puddles of water and twisted metal. The clanging on the door had been from an iron pole finally rotted from its concrete sleeve. My spirits sank, but I also felt some relief. My eagerness to make contact with a fellow survivor could have been very rash. I walked a few meters to a mound of concrete; my mind could not remember how things should have looked. Climbing the mound I scanned the ruins. I could see nothing resembling human life or activity. I decided that to venture further, I would have to make proper plans.

            I returned to the facility and closed the door then headed back down the corridor. There were a thousand things I had to plan for. How could I over-ride the door to get back in, for example? Should I err on the safe side and wear a radiation suit…I stopped and stared at the floor. There were footprints. Footprints of a pair of bare feet.

            Every hair on my body rose, my breathing quickened and blind panic began to erupt from deep within.

            I was no longer alone.