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I’m still staring, trying to figure out what’s going on, when Grant opens my door and pulls me out and onto my feet. He puts a hand on my back and guides me toward a central structure in the middle of the garage.
Guiding is too gentle a word. He’s pushing me more than anything else.
My feet fall in line. We reach two armed guards who don’t question us. They obviously know Grant, and they step out of the way so he can propel me into what I discover is a large elevator.
I’ve read enough books and seen enough movies to now understand where we are. “This is some sort of underground bunker? A fallout shelter or something?”
He slants me a look I can’t interpret. I don’t know him well enough to read the subtleties of his expressions. “Former missile silo. It’s been converted.”
“What’s happening? Is World War III about to start?” I have no idea how I manage to sound calm. My heart is hammering painfully in my throat, and I can barely feel my hands.
“Not that. But it could be just as bad. Your dad will explain. He told me not to say anything.”
Well, that makes his silence a little less annoying. If he has instructions from my father, then he’s not likely to ignore them.
Everyone in the world (except occasionally me) does what my dad tells them.
The elevator looks like something out of Star Trek, and we descend several floors until the doors open. I expect a bunker to be gray and bleak and sterile, but the room we enter isn’t anything like that.
It looks like a luxury apartment. Polished floors. Art on the walls. Elegant, minimalistic furnishings.
My father has been waiting in a leather chair. He gets up and hurries over to pull me into a hug.
I hug him back. Of course I do. My whole body starts to shake.
“I’m so sorry to scare you like this, Pickle. We just didn’t have much time and couldn’t risk you talking to anyone.”
“What’s happening? It’s not nuclear war?”
Grant has retreated to a corner near the elevator entrance, but he hasn’t been dismissed yet, so he clearly can’t leave. I’m barely aware of him at the moment. All my attention is on my father and whatever disaster is on our doorstep.
My father, bless him, never wastes time or fiddles around. “Have you heard about that asteroid that’s making a close call with Earth?”
I blink. Frown. Search my mind. “I… I don’t remember. Maybe.” I rarely pay attention to the news or current events.
“There’s a large asteroid heading toward us. They thought it would be a near miss, but they were wrong. They’re pretty sure now it’s going to hit us.”
“Where? Here?”
“In Europe. We don’t have the technology to stop an asteroid that size. They’ll try, but there’s nothing they’ll be able to do. It’s going to hit Europe. They’re predicting it will wipe out most of the continent and have a devastating effect on the entire world, even over here in the US.”
“An asteroid?”
“Yes. It will do an incredible amount of damage, maybe for years to come. It’s not going to hit for a month or two, but the news will become public later today, and there’s likely to be mass panic. Civil unrest. All kinds of violence. So now’s the best time to hunker down. Here where it’s safe.”
This isn’t the kind of news that can be processed quickly or clearly. It sits in my mind, untouched, as I ask the most inconsequential things first. “Did you know it was coming earlier? Is that why you built this bunker?”
He shakes his head. He’s a lean, balding man in his fifties. I know other people find him attractive, but he’s never been anything to me but my dad. “I didn’t build it. I bought into it about fifteen years ago, along with dozens of other families, just in case something like this were to happen. There’s about two hundred of us down here. We won’t be alone, and we’re stocked up and prepared. It will be a community. We’re waiting for a few more stragglers, but then they’ll be locking us in. We’ll be safe here. I promise.”
I gulp. Twist my hands together. “And everyone else? All my friends?”
“I’m sorry,” he replies, shaking his head. “I really am. But we can’t save everyone.”
My lips part. I stare. I simply can’t take it all in. “How… how long?”
“We have no idea. It might be a long time if things get really bad after the asteroid hits. We’ve got enough supplies for at least five years.”
“Five…” For some reason, I glance back toward Grant as if he might provide some sort of answers. “But I have midterms. And the big meet next weekend.”
