I was in Nathan’s room playing Deathstalker when the lights went out.
We sat in silence for a solid fifteen seconds.
“Huh,” Nathan said finally. “Guess I was right.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Guess so. Did you fill up your bathtub?”
“I did,” he said. “Been squirreling away rations, too. You know—so you don’t have to eat me. You?”
“Bathtub? Yes. Rations? No. How much do you have?”
Silence.
“Nathan? How much food did you put away?”
Silence.
“Look, Nathan. If you’re not going to share, I will definitely kill, cook, and eat you. How long is it going to be before I’m forced to do that?”
He sighed.
“Maybe a week, if we’re careful.”
“A week?”
“Two, if we don’t mind getting really hungry.”
“Okay. How long do you think our water lasts?”
Silence again.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking. The bathtubs are probably like a hundred gallons each, so that’s two hundred gallons if you filled yours all the way. A person needs about a gallon a day just for drinking. So . . .”
“So, survival-wise, we’ve got a lot more water than we do food.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Looks like we do.”
I heard him stand and walk across the room. After a minute or two of rummaging there was a click, and a light flared in his hand. I blinked. He was holding a hand-sized bright blue camp lantern.
“Nice,” I said. “Where’d that come from?”
“Sam brought it for me on my first day. I’m not a big fan of the dark. I’ve got another one, if you want it.”
“Thanks, Nathan. I mean, seriously, thanks.” He handed me the light. It didn’t exactly turn the night into day, but it was definitely enough to see by. “You’re a lot better at this than I am, aren’t you?”
He smiled.
“I always plan on everything going to shit. It’s kind of a gift.”
Running while carrying the lantern was awkward. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t big, but it threw me just a little bit off balance and I wound up having to switch hands every lap or so because I had arm muscles like wet noodles, and carrying it made them sore. I needed it, though. Without those lights, being in the dungeon was no different than being blind. There was literally not a stray photon bouncing around in there. I didn’t even want to think about what it would have been like if Nathan hadn’t been such a doomsday prepper.
So, I appreciated Nathan’s paranoia. Nathan, however, did not appreciate my fitness needs. I was two laps into my first post-blackout run when he came out of his room to yell at me.
“Hey! Hannah! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I didn’t break stride as I passed him.
“Running, Nathan. It’s what I do.”
He tried to chase me, but gave it up after a half dozen wheezy strides, and waited for me to come around again.
“Stop, Hannah! You can’t do that! You’re wasting calories!”
I waved and kept running. Next lap, he actually jumped out in front of me, arms outstretched.
“Hannah! Stop!”
I thought about just bulling past him, but he seemed pretty upset. So, I pulled up short, folded my arms across my chest, and gave him my best glare.
“What are you doing, Nathan? I need to run.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t. You need to lie as still as possible, and turn yourself over just enough to prevent bed sores. The more calories you burn, the more calories you need to eat to stay alive. Also, you may not have noticed, but the air circulators aren’t running anymore. I don’t know if this place is sealed up or not, but if it is, we may actually run out of oxygen before we run out of food. Running makes you burn up more of that too. Now go back to your room and take a nap. The best thing we can do right now is sleep as much as possible.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Until what, Nathan?”
“Huh?”
“Sleep until what? Who do you think is coming for us?”
He flinched as if I’d hit him.
“What do you mean? Our parents, for one.”
I laughed.
“My parents don’t have the slightest idea where I am. Do yours?”
He looked away. When he looked back, there were tears in his eyes.
“No. But Hannah . . .”
“Look,” I said. “The nearest actual Bioteka office is three hundred miles from here, which means that we’re the only ones in this particular hole. If there’s a dungeon near Bethesda, they may be paying more attention to the kids there, but it’s pretty obvious that our corporate overlords have either forgotten about us or died. Our parents may or may not be looking for us, but even if they are, what are the odds that they find us?”
His hands fell to his sides, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
“We’re gonna die in here, aren’t we?”
I looked down, then back up again.
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ve got enough food and water to stay alive for a while, and I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough air for a while yet too. In the meantime, if someone’s ever going to remember that we’re here, I’m guessing it’ll be soon. If they haven’t come for us in a week or two, they’re probably just not coming.”
I stepped up to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and spoke into his ear.
“If these are my last few weeks on this stupid planet, Nathan, I’m not about to spend them doing shallow-breathing exercises.”
He pressed his face into my shoulder and hugged me. We stayed like that for a while.
“You know,” he said finally. “We could . . .”
I pulled back.
“Yeah,” I said. “That is not going to happen.”
I kissed him on the cheek, and I ran.