“Hey, dipshit, wake up.”

Your eyes flicker open and immediately slam back shut as a tall man shines a flashlight right in your face. He flicks you in the ear and insults you again, telling you to move your sorry ass before he moves it for you. You oblige, of course, and scooch your carcass to the right. The man laughs through his nose but says nothing more.

His wide gloved hands grasp a weird-shaped mass of blankets and you watch on, intrigued, as he pulls back some sheets and reveals a slack human face. Is that a dead body?

The dark floor is cool against your cheek as you soak it all in. A strange scent you vaguely recognize as mildew wafts up your nose and circles your brain, making you dizzy. Your corpse feels inexplicably wet, like the dampness sunk into your bones and nested there for eternity, finding its new home in the vessel that once contained you.

You hoist your body up with what little strength you have and somehow manage to prop yourself up against a wall. The man seems to tire of waiting for the newly uncovered mummy to awaken, if his agitation is anything to go by.

“Wake up, nimrod,” He huffs impatiently as he points his flashlight at the vacant countenance, poking their cheek with a gloved finger. The person in the blanket burrito doesn’t respond. The man rolls his eyes and calls to his partner, “Hey, Dave, we got another Dazed and Confused one here.”

The man you figure is Dave shakes his head, “That wasn’t funny the first time you said it an it ain’t funny now, Connor. Save your shitty jokes for when we’re not savin’ peoples’ lives.” So they’re saving lives, you guess, but you’re not really sure what from.

Connor laughs good-naturedly, hoisting the burrito over his shoulder and carrying it across the room to Dave, calling him a jerk as he does so. Dave ignores his partner and gestures to the floor. Connor gingerly rests the person on the ground and trudges back over to the haphazard pile of blanket burritos, reaching for another one and repeating the pattern of insulting, blinding with a flashlight, and then complaining.

You turn your attention to Dave, who seems like he knows what he’s doing.

He has a stethoscope draped over his neck but you don’t notice it until he uses it on the silent person resting on the floor. Is he a doctor? Maybe. You can’t really tell. You don’t seem to understand a whole lot. But hey, why else would he have a stethoscope?

The man you assume is a doctor continues to poke and prod the silent person, eventually deciding to blow air into the poor bastard’s ear. Their eyes shoot open and they scream so loud you feel it in your bones, reverberating through your spine and fingers like a tuning fork. Dave consoles them, speaking softly yet sternly, hands resting lightly on their shoulders. You can’t hear what he says but the rumbles from his chest fill you with peace.

His indistinguishable words are delicate and melodious, humming between your ears as you smile like a goof. Warm energy cascades down your body like a waterfall, and you feel it clean the gunk out of your every nook and cranny. You are reborn, here in this dark place, surrounded by ghosts and hazy memories.

The heat seeps down your legs and you relax even more, slumping over and making eye contact with Connor. He grimaces.

“This one peed itself, Dave. I’m sick of that shit.”

‘What peed itself?’ You wonder absentmindedly. You have better things to worry about, like where you are and why you feel like you’re awake for the first time in your entire life. But then you realize what peed itself.

It was your stupid ass.

“I-I’m sorry…..” You mumble quietly in Connor’s general direction, hoping he heard you but too nervous to say more. He raises an eyebrow at you, not impressed, but then sighs and points to a mountain range of mismatched clothes piles.

“Go change.”

You nod meekly and try to stand but to no avail. Your knees wobble and buckle under your weight, and your spine apparently has very little interest in supporting your carcass. You slump against the wall and breathe deeply. You try again and again until you can stand up straight, legs barely stable beneath you.

You hobble over to the pile and search through the seemingly endless mountain for something your size. Everything is too small and you get increasingly frustrated. Eventually, a large gray sweater catches your eye and you snatch it up with gusto.

By the time you find a suitable pair of shorts and wrestle them onto your wide frame, the burrito person hobbles over and kneels down next to you to ruffle through the mounds of cloth. They look at your outfit and nod to themself, ready to find something similar in the vast stacks, you guess.

You gather your soiled clothes in your hands and look at Dave questioningly, who points to another pile a ways away from the stacks you just looked through. You toss the dirty laundry where you were told to and wander back over to Dave’s side, eyeing Connor warily as he screams at another burrito person.

Dave sighs and shakes his head, then looks at you with a small smile on his face, and you feel that sense of calm wash over you once again. He pats the ground next to him and you ease yourself onto the cold concrete, subconsciously leaning into Dave. He takes mercy on you and says nothing as your body sags against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” You murmur shyly. You don’t know if he heard you.

“So, what’s your name?” He asks you offhandedly, as if it doesn’t really matter. You shrug and furrow your brows, wracking your brain, but you can’t remember. You tell him so. He chuckles, “Sounds about right. No one ever remembers their old name.”

Connor pipes in from across the room, “Well, we gotta call you something, so just pick a name.”

You frown at him and he, for some reason, grins at you. His right front tooth is chipped.

The now clothed burrito person makes their way over to you and Dave, hesitantly plopping down beside you. You stare at them inquisitively and they grunt at you. Their outfit is similar to yours, a simple shirt and shorts ensemble, but for some reason you feel it looks better on them.

Dave hums softly and clasps his hands together in his lap. “Well,” He probes, “Any ideas?” You shake your head and say no. He nods thoughtfully. “Alright. How ‘bout we call you Flash?”

You tilt your head and squint at him, confused as to why he thinks that’s a good name for you. You can’t remember your own name but you sure can remember the DC hero, with garish red spandex and that awful headpiece. You’re almost insulted. He shrugs, “That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anybody be able to talk. Usually takes ‘em a few hours.”

“Oh… um….” You pause, thinking. Maybe that’s not so bad, then. You’re actually kind of pleased. “Okay. Thank you…” You speak softly, but soundly, and that makes him smile.

Jealous, the other recently woken person whines loudly but no words form. They grow frustrated and grunt, but Dave waves a placating hand at them. “As I said, it usually takes a while to be able to talk. If I’m bein’ honest, you’re lucky you could dress yourself. Y’all haven’t been in here as long as some of the others so the muscular atrophy ain’t as bad as it coulda been.” You nod, as you don’t know enough about medicine to dispute his claims, and wiggle your fingers.

Your fine motor skills are not yet up to par.

Your vocal chords, however, are in working order, and you want to make use of them. “Dave… What-?” You want to ask what happened, where you are, what year it is, but it all gets caught in your throat. A choking sound escapes your windpipe and the unnamed person eyes you warily.

Connor staggers over, seemingly exhausted, and gingerly sits down across from Dave. Sweat makes his dark skin shine like onyx as his wide chest heaves, drawing lungfuls of stale air into his body. “What happened?” He guesses, and you nod. “Welcome to the end of the world.”

You raise an eyebrow. You don’t trust this man and his jokes. Your eyes meet Dave’s, and to your surprise, he nods.

“It ain’t a joke, Flash,” The doctor drawls softly, and you wonder how he knew what you were thinking, “Welcome to the apocalypse a la nuclear annihilation.”

The words slowly tumble around in your head as you try to process. What? What year is it? Where are you? You desperately sieve through your brain, searching every corner for memories of your life before Connor called you a dipshit. You come up with nothing but impressions and this frustrates you. Who did you used to be? Did you have a family? Were you married? How old are you, anyway? Question after question raises itself and is left unanswered.

All at once, everything is different.

You frown but focus on the next most pertinent inquiry, “Where are we?”

Dave grimaces and Connor answers you, “We are currently in an underground bunker in what used to be rural North Carolina.”

“Used to be?”

“Yeahp, World War III kinda destroyed all major powers. Nothing but, like, fucking clans and shit, probably.”

A heavy sigh leaves Dave’s round lips, “Well. We’re not even sure about there bein’ clans. The only people we’ve seen are those we’ve woken up ourselves. I sure hope there are more people out there.”

This news makes your throat go dry and your pulse race, “You mean this could be it? A few idiots in the mountains of North Carolina?”

Connor nods but won’t meet your eyes.

You grimace at him and don’t continue the conversation, not too keen on dwelling on that thought, changing the subject with, “Okay, so what year is it? How did the War start? And how the hell did I end up in an underground bunker in North Carolina? I don’t think I’ve ever even been here before.”

Dave and Connor exchange glances, silently debating who gets to provide all the exposition. The unnamed person shifts and you glance at them. They had apparently been listening, and seem just as curious to have those questions answered. They nudge you and point at the two men before making a “who the hell are they?” gesture, silently begging you to ask, and you acquiesce. “Also, who the hell are you two?”

The responsibility of question answering falls onto Dave as Connor quickly rises and stalks back over to the pile of wrapped up bodies. Dave seems annoyed but ultimately unsurprised by the other man’s swift departure, furrowing his eyebrows for a brief moment. A wry look crosses his face and he peers at you and your silent friend almost benevolently, smiling softly before leaning over to crack his back.

“There’s not really much to tell but here we go,” He begins, “First off, I’m David Avilla, and that asshole over there is Connor Hussain. I’m a physician, or I guess I used to be. He’s a—what’s it called—a mechanic, and he used to teach autoshop at some high school, ain’t that right, Connor?” Connor chimes in with a ‘yeahp’.

“One of the powers involved in the war started usin’ a nasty new weapon—a gas that can put thousands of people out of commission in a matter of seconds. I think it might’ve been intended for cryogenesis or something because people who don’t die are put into a strange sort of stasis. It was likely weaponized because it causes neuron damage, and kills those who are left asleep for too long. Those who do wake up usually have trouble controllin’ their bodies and varyin’ amounts of amnesia. Connor and I, well… we don’t remember much of the War. I can’t even tell y’all who was fightin’.

“Truth is, I don’t know how the War started or how y’all ended up in North Carolina. We only know it’s North Carolina because there are a few remaining trail signs. All we know for sure is that someone weaponized that gas and used it on us. Seems like people built shelters like this to protect themselves, but they couldn’t keep the gas out, so every shelter we’ve seen in the year or so we’ve been awake has been filled with people affected by the gas. Most of ‘em were dead, but we managed to rouse a few of ‘em.

“All the weird shit you’ve been feelin’ since you woke up is because of that damn gas.”

How much trouble you had walking and controlling your bowels suddenly makes a lot more sense. You’re still embarrassed, of course, but considerably less so.

“Your brain needs to get the hang of usin’ certain neural pathways again, so that’s why it takes time for people to get their coordination back. You’ve probably been in stasis for over a year so it’s a great sign that you’re able to move, speak, and process as well are you are.”

Dave pauses, furrowing his brows for a moment, before saying, “We don’t know what year it is, because we don’t know how long we were asleep, so we’ve just been calling it Year 2. Connor and I both woke up the spring before last, so we made that Year 1. It’s the end of summer now, so. Does that answer all your questions?”

You blink.

“I guess so,” You tell him. “Where are the others you woke up?”

Dave smiles affectionately, “We’ve got a nice little settlement a few days’ hike away from here. Connor and I sometimes go out on these trips to see if we can find more people. We left one person to watch camp but everyone else went out on different trips, like huntin’ and shit, so they might not be there when we get back.”

That sounds reasonable, you think. You nod at the doctor, whose eyes twinkle back at you, like he knows something that you don’t. Honestly, you’re sure he knows a lot that you don’t.

The unnamed person shifts beside you, their dark skin looking pale. Their body slumps sideways and their shoulder collides with the hard ground, thud echoing around the bunker and startling Connor, who curses under his breath. The doctor releases a heavy sigh. You help him maneuver the unconscious body until they’re supine, retreating to give the man room for his medical examination. Dave starts poking and prodding them before chuckling to himself and settling back down on the ground. You eye him curiously but say nothing.

“They just fainted.”

Ah. That makes sense, you suppose. Information overload will do that to a person.

Unbeknownst to you, they actually fainted because they have low blood pressure, not because of ‘information overload,’ you fucking doofus.

You nestle yourself next to Dave once again and get to thinking. What will you do, with no past and no future? What is there to do, in this new world birthed from fire and revolution? What will the gods think, sneering down at you from the heights of Olympus?

As far as you know, you don’t really have any skills or passions that you can actively recall. Who knows what you did before the war. Hopefully, you can be helpful to the men that saved you, but you’re not sure how to pass the time until the inevitable heat death of the universe. You could read books or something, you guess.

Wait. Do books even exist anymore? What lies beyond the confines of this bunker?

You watch as Connor continues to shake the people wrapped in blankets, but as it turns out only one of the three is still alive. Once roused, they go through the process of peeing themself, getting shamed by Connor, and then meekly dressing with rags from the pile. They hobble over to the doctor, who gives them a once over, and then plop down onto the cool floor. They breathe deeply and keep their eyes closed, rubbing insistently at their fingers. Connor comes over and sprawls onto the ground beside Dave, who smiles softly at the other man.

Connor fiddles with his gray mechanic’s gloves and Dave makes a “tsk” sound. Connor’s hands fall still.

The original unnamed person suddenly jerks up and you jump, startled. They’re trying to speak but their words are mangled and congealed, clogging their throat and oozing out their mouth. They frown. They try again to no avail, and give up with a huff, standing up and wobbling around to stretch their legs.

Dave and Connor speak gently, heads tilted together, and you can’t quite make out what they’re saying. You wonder what will come next, but they do not address you, and you look away.

Glancing around you notice the second unnamed person eyeing you with what you can only describe as childlike curiosity. You smile at them and they blush.

The overabundance of unnamed persons starts to annoy you as you try to describe them clearly in your head. Nameless person 1 and nameless person 2 is in no way convenient. There has to be a better way.

“Hey,” You start, and the two men peer at you inquisitively, “Don’t you think we should name these two?” Dave grins at you and nods.

You address the original unnamed person, who has now wandered back to where the rest of the group is seated. “Do you remember your name?” They shake their head. Of course they don’t. “Alright. Why don’t we stick with the superhero theme and call you Captain, like Captain America?” They pause and think for a second.

They nod.

Sweet.

You turn your attention to the other person to be named, and they eye you warily, distrustful of your name choosing abilities. You chuckle to yourself and start brainstorming. There are a few that stick out in your mind but none that ensnare your attention completely, none of them being quite good enough for this person you just met and know nothing about. Silence falls over the group and crawls down your throat.

Every suggestion of yours is shot down with a resolute head shake.

“Hmn. I think you’re going the wrong direction here, Flash. Maybe a girl’s name is in order?” Dave suggests, and you raise a doubtful eyebrow at him. Who wouldn’t want a gender-neutral name like you have?

The last unnamed person is grinning and nodding, though, so you guess Dave was right. You still have trouble coming up with a feminine name, so Connor takes pity on you and suggests ‘Harley,’ like Harley Quinn. You raise your eyebrow at the soon-to-be-named person, whose eyes light up. They nod enthusiastically and Dave laughs.

“Harley it is,” He says jovially as he stands and stretches his back, “And now that that’s out of the way, we should probably talk about what our next step is.”

Everyone nods in agreement but no one speaks. Dave sighs loudly and stares pointedly at Connor, silently urging him to take the reins of decision making. The darker man is displeased but acquiesces nonetheless.

“Including you three we’ve gathered ten people, so there’s twelve of us total. We have that small settlement a few days away from here, it’s not much but it’s ours. We haven’t seen any other people but our group since Dave and I woke up, but I’m sure there are others out there, somewhere. You three are more than welcome to come live with us, we could always use the extra hands.” Connor clears his throat. “You might as well.”

Considering it, you suppose you might as well. What else are you gonna do, live alone in the mountains like some kind of hermit? You’d probably starve.

“Okay,” You say simply, “I got nothing better to do.”

Dave raises an eyebrow and chuckles under his breath as Connor cackles, the two of them sharing an intriguing look. You’re not sure what was so funny but you’re strangely glad you made them laugh.

Both men stand and begin collecting what you assume are their belongings. They tell the three of you to grab some changes of clothes for them to pack for the journey, which is something you never would’ve thought of so you’re grateful.

Dave cradles a doctor’s bag like a newborn and Connor begins piling destroyed mechanical objects onto a tattered blanket, eventually scooping up the package and waddling through the doorway in the north wall. Both men have almost comically oversized hiking backpacks on, which makes you giggle to yourself.

You stand as well and stretch your back. A sharp throb of pain radiates up your spine and toward your fingers and you clutch Harley’s shoulder to steady yourself. She peers at you inquisitively but remains mercifully silent, a small smile gracing her lips. You already like her.

The doctor chuckles again, “C’mon, Flash, be careful. The muscular atrophy ain’t awful but your muscles have still deteriorated significantly. You’re far from peak condition.” You, of course, forgot about all that and stretched like you would’ve any other day. But today isn’t any other day. Today is the start of the end of the world.

You grin sheepishly at him and he waves you off, turning to follow the other man through the doorway. Captain follows Dave closely, arms full of clothes, narrowing their eyes at you as they pass. You raise an eyebrow but ultimately don’t think much of it. You turn to Harley and offer her a hand, which she accepts and allows you to pull her to her feet.

Good news, you think to yourself, your arm muscles are still doing okay.

They hurt as soon as Harley lets go but you shake it off and locate the clothes piles, grabbing anything that looks large enough for you. Harley does the same.

When you’re done you follow Harley into the long hallway beyond the door. You stroll leisurely behind her as she moves forward through the dark hall until you can see sunlight, something you feared you’d never see again. Harley gasps softly and speeds up, thick legs moving faster to reach the warm touch of the sun. You quicken your pace as well, just as eager to embrace the sun’s loving rays, and step onto the soft grass with a sigh of relief.