Beyond the airlock, outside the silo, Alex Dash monitored the storm. It was 1:42 a.m. Wearing his helmet with full-cover visor and his rifle at the ready, he stepped away from the protection of the roofed entrance to the bunker and witnessed the gale for himself. It was powerful, nudging him slightly off-balance. The wind thrashed the tall grasses surrounding the airfield, once an active military base. That was long ago, before the world turned to shit.

Nearby trees swayed and yielded to the storm, threatening to snap in two. Debris was tossed into the air and scattered about the abandoned, weed-strewn runways. Alex held his gloved hand out and allowed the storm to pelt him with tiny seeds. They bounced off his visor like grains of sand. The air was inundated with them.

He wouldn't be out here if not for the antennae coming loose. Without it, he'd be unable to properly identify possible air pollutants. After reattaching and reinforcing the antennae to the outside of the bunker, he retreated to the airlock, keeping his eyes on the swirling landscape beyond. Alex punched in the correct numeric passcode and the door unlocked. He stepped inside and removed the helmet, and scrubbed his close-cropped chestnut hair, making sure none of the seeds had gotten past his protective gear. The seeds in the air had been immature and therefore soft. Had they been mature - hard thorn-like objects – they might've penetrated his clothing.

When he had removed the outdoor suit and was confident he wouldn't track anything inside the bunker, he exited the airlock and stepped through the inner door, into the silo and locked it behind him. The monitor beside the door read AIR QUALITY: 17%

*********

Alex sat in pitch blackness. He couldn't see the twins, but he could hear them breathing, still in a deep sleep. After draping his blanket across the two of them, he felt his way along the wall and stepped out into the wide, circular hallway – the shaft of the refitted missile silo. It had housed nuclear weapons during the cold war. Decommissioned during the eighties, it now served as their home.

Two landings above, he could make out the square window in the interior door. It was a shade lighter than the darkness he stood in and from his perspective seemed ethereal, as if it were a window to another world floating in the gloom.

His footfalls made dull clanks as he climbed the metal stairs. When he reached the top landing, he peeked out from the shade. The interior door was made of thick steel and attached to the silo's shaft. It opened to a ten-foot air lock, which, when needed, could purify contaminated air. At the end of the air lock was another heavy door. It was their buffer to the outside world and the strange things that now roamed.

Their view was due east and as such, Alex could see that it was dawn, but that the sun hadn't yet broken the horizon. Sparse, cottony clouds, a deep violet against the paling sky, drifted lazily from the west. The air appeared clean. Maybe they could leave the silo today.

Adjacent to the door Alex opened a panel in the wall. He grabbed a lever and pumped it five times to activate the silo's generator, then closed the panel. At eye level was a screen that displayed a dim orange digital readout. Alex thumped the screen with his fist and the display brightened. It read:

5:14 a.m.

AIR QUALITY: 89%

Alex turned the screen off to conserve energy and followed the twisting staircase down one level. He reached just inside the first door to his right and grabbed a small box of matches from a shelf. He struck it against the wall and a burst of light revealed their pantry, a fifteen-foot long scaffold of shelves once stacked with goods of the canned and dried variety. Their supplies had dwindled, and it was time to scavenge.

Alex lit a lantern and checked the murky hallway behind him, finding it empty. He sometimes imagined upon the strike of the morning match that something wicked would be revealed in the golden light. Even though he checked the silo every night before they went to bed, it was a feeling he couldn't shake...that someone or something might find its way in here and wait for them in silence until the time was right.

Suddenly remembering the rifle, Alex realized that he had left it in the bedroom. He left the pantry and descended the stairs, chastising himself for his forgetfulness. It wasn't like him – he never went anywhere without the rifle, even from room to room.

The lantern cast dancing shadows against the wall as he entered the bedroom. The twins hadn't moved, and the rifle was where he had left it. He went to it and immediately felt relieved by its presence. It meant safety, comfort.

Alex reached over and nudged his younger brother. "Henry. Time to get up, buddy." Then to his sister, "Annabelle? Good morning. You awake?"

They issued moans of displeasure. Henry sat up and yawned. "What time is it? It's still dark out."

"It's always dark in here, bud." Alex ruffled his hair. "Ready to start your day?"

Henry nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Annabelle rolled onto her belly and scooted up onto her knees. "I'm hungry."

"I know," said Alex. "Let's go see what we have for breakfast."

They left the bedroom holding hands. Alex flipped a switch and overhead fluorescent lighting flickered, issued a low, electrical buzzing noise, then sustained cold, harsh light. Climbing one flight, they went into the pantry, the twins first, followed by Alex after he had verified once more that the first level was free of ghouls.

Skimming the shelves, Alex produced the only two breakfast offerings available the past few weeks. "Protein bar or applesauce. Which will it be, Annabelle?"

"Why does she go first?" asked Henry. He yawned, then corrected himself after thinking it over. "Oh yeah...ladies first."

Alex nodded. "Right, Henry. Good job."

"Can I have both?" asked Annabelle.

It was clear to Alex that she felt selfish asking for both and he adored her for it. He smiled. "Absolutely, sweetheart."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Me too?"

"You got it, pal."

They left the pantry and moved across the cylindrical hall to the kitchen. There was a small, square table with four chairs. Alex set the lantern on it and the twins sat and ate their breakfast while he poured them each a glass of water.

"We need to get some supplies today," Alex told them.

Henry's eyes widened. "You mean we're going outside?"

Alex nodded.

"Yes!" the children shouted.

"But what about the air?" asked Annabelle.

"Very good, Annabelle. I do have to check the air, but it looks pretty nice out there. We always check the air first though, right?"

The twins each nodded.

"And we always take our...?"

"Rain coats," said Henry with crumbs spilling from his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, bud. Close – but not just rain coats."

Annabelle corrected. "Rain gear."

"Oh," mumbled Henry, apparently unimpressed.

"Correct. But rain gear is only for if we get caught out in the open. If possible, we must take cover somewhere when it rains. Understood?" Henry and Annabelle nodded. They had been through the possible scenarios dozens of times, at the least, but Alex believed in constantly reinforcing them. If for some reason he wasn't around – and that would likely mean he'd be dead – the twins had to comprehend how they could protect themselves.

Henry raised his hand to ask a question and Alex called on him. "How come we have to get out of the rain again?"

"Because..." Alex began, then turned to his sister. "Annabelle, do you know why?"

She crinkled her nose and tapped her chin with her index finger. "Um...I kinda forget."

"Okay. Listen to me: the rain isn't always just rain, okay? Sometimes it isn't safe." The children paid the utmost attention to their big brother and Alex could tell by their expressions that the information was sinking in. "And we never ever...ever drink the rain. Got it?"

"Cause it could burn going down," added Henry, tracing a line down his esophagus with his finger.

"Correct! Excellent Henry! It must be tested first."

"I knew that too," cried Annabelle.

Alex patted her head. "I know you did, Annabelle." He rose from his chair. "Finish up and we'll set out."

"Already? Where we going?"

"To the ocean," said Alex. The twins looked at one another in surprise and then performed a celebratory seat-dance.

Alex downed a protein drink and gathered what little food they had to bring and packed extra clothes, just in case. At the interior door, he again consulted the digital readout. The air quality had risen to 90%. He disengaged the security lock and a buzzer sounded. Alex turned the handle and tugged with all his strength. In the air lock, he loaded the bike with their supplies and when Henry and Annabelle were ready, they hopped into the attached sidecar.

After locking the silo, Alex started the bike and it sprang to life with a low thrum, much quieter than motorcycles used to be. With the twins buckled in and their goggles and helmets in place, Alex turned the throttle and the bike accelerated, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. Alex glanced at the retreating reflection of their home and wondered if it would still be there when they returned.