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Bitch!
Mother-in-law? I spat at the word. The entire thirteen years my brother, Hans, and I were forced to suffer with the beast, she’d never shown an ounce of motherly love, and we both agreed she was the primordial spawn of Satan. And every day, without fail, she proved it.
She was hideous and looked like a troll … hairy and smelly and hated kids. I was surprised she didn’t kill us in our sleep and eat us.
I had no idea what our dad saw in her. He was her complete opposite … kind, generous, a decent human being. But he was also soft and obviously destitute of vision. For God sake, the woman was manlier than he was. The thought of them having any kind of physical attraction or interaction sent a shiver up my spine.
After our real mom died—months before the apocalypse—the earth went to hell. Literally.
A massive solar storm erupted and entered the earth’s atmosphere, completely collapsing the national power grid, shutting down all navigational and communication systems across the globe.
Millions were thrust into darkness. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Over four hundred nuclear power plants were operating across thirty countries. Very few had backup generator pumps which relied on large tanks of water for cooling the containment shells. Within a span of about ten days, nuclear fuel melted through containment rods, spewing massive doses of radiation into the atmosphere.
To help keep global panic to a minimum, the governments offered people hope in the form of a vaccine. An anti-radiation vaccine. Despite the lack of testing or results, it was approved, mass produced, and distributed to shelters across the globe.
But we didn’t have to worry about any of that. Before the terror was widespread, our father, an electrical engineer, took us to an underground bunker he’d secretly built and stocked. The shelter was small, and after thirteen years of surviving, it felt like the walls were closing in—claustrophobic.
We were now to the point our food supplies were dangerously low.
Through Morse code, our father learned the topside was safe to return to, but we were screwed. My dad built our survival bunker in the middle of the Alaskan boonies, at least twenty miles in any direction from civilization.
In recent months, my brother Hans and I kept our eating to a bare minimum. Because of it, we were slowly becoming emaciated. We’d gone to the topside several times to look for food, but there was nothing but dry, barren land as far as the eye could see.
My name is Greta. I’m seventeen and was raised by my nineteen year old brother, Hans. We don’t look alike, aside from the same dark brown hair and brown eyes, and he’s almost foot taller than me.
Our stepmother hated us. From the time we arrived in the bunker, she made sure to keep our father busy with her matters. Every time he showed a bit of attention toward us, she would get infuriated and we’d end up getting punished. We never forced their love, and to be honest, we didn’t need it. Hans and I had each other, and that was enough. I was thankful I had my brother with me. He was the only reason I survived.
While lying on our old, worn cots in the adjacent room, we heard the entire conversation the bitch had with our father. She wanted him to make us return to the topside to search for food, and not return until we had. In other words, she wanted us to leave … and die.
The burly wench!
It took everything inside of me to bite my tongue and fight the impulse to walk up to her and slam my fist in her face. She had it coming. After thirteen years of putting up with her crap, I was at my limit. The only reason we kept quiet was because of our dad. We didn’t want him to suffer.
My pulse thrummed so loud I could hear it in my ears; my face burned with fury, and my hands balled into fists so tight my nails dug into the skin.
“Relax, Greta,” Hans said quietly, knowing me too well. “Don’t let it get to you.”
“How can I not?” I huffed. “Why doesn’t Dad ever stand up to her?”
“He’s tried, and you know how that ended,” he sighed. “It’s time we left anyway. We’ve survived hell for thirteen years. Topside shouldn’t be much worse.”
I rolled over, boiling with rage. “How can you say that? We’ve been topside. There is nothing there. We’ll die, and she will be all the merrier for it.”
“If you think that way now, you’re already dead.” His brow raised and his head tilted to the side.
“Whatever,” I exhaled, knowing he was right.
“I have something that’ll help us, at least for a little while.”
My head whipped to him. “What?” I mouthed.
He grinned placing his finger to his lips, then carefully lifted his pillow. Under it were six MRE’s. The beast said we were out of MRE’s months ago, so we’d been living off of miniscule portions of rice and beans.
“How did you get those?” I whispered.
He grinned and shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell me and I didn’t care. I was just glad we weren’t leaving without any food. We both knew the beast wouldn’t give us any food.
I quickly calculated our survival rate. If rationed wisely, we could live off of those six MRE’s for almost two weeks. Our dad told us there was a small town about twenty miles north. In our weakened states, we were lucky if we could walk five miles per day. That meant we could be there in four days, or less, depending on how well we fared.
“Try and get some sleep,” Hans said closing his eyes.
“You too,” I exhaled, staring at the same gloomy, colorless wall I had for over thirteen years.
The next morning, we packed survival necessities, then our very distraught father led us up the ladder to the topside. Climbing wrung after wrung, heading up toward the outside world, my stomach twisted in knots. We’d only been out a few times, but the world was creepy and eerily quiet. It was dead and dry. No signs of life, and that made me feel very uncomfortable.
As we exited the bunker, our dad gave us a speech about how necessary it was for us to find food. We knew he was voicing the demands of the beast, but we promised him we wouldn’t return without food.
He gave us each a flask of water and then secretly pulled out, from under his shirt, a few dehydrated fruit packets. Then, he handed Hans a machete, and me … an axe. A really dull axe.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I questioned, holding it up.
“It will help you chop wood and tinder for a fire,” he replied.
“This…won’t cut anything.”
“Greta, just take it,” Hans huffed.
“Fine,” I sighed, throwing it in my backpack knowing it would take a considerable amount of extra energy to carry it, let alone chop anything. But it could possibly be used to pommel something. If anything was alive to pommel.
“Let’s go,” Hans said, walking away. I knew he was upset my dad was taking sides with the monster, and I couldn’t blame him. Hans played mother and father to me since the first day we came down in the bunker.
“Greta.” My dad grasped my shoulder, stopping me, so I slowly faced him, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, which made my hardened heart soften just a bit. All those years, those thirteen years, I’d hated him for not standing up for us … his kids. It was like we were some strays, brought into the bunker, shunned, and given enough food for us to survive.
“I pity you, Dad. We never deserved this life and neither did you. This is your bunker but she played owner, for thirteen years. One of these days you’re going to have to stand up to her. It’s too late to do it for us … but for yourself.”
“Greta,” Hans said, behind me. I turned, holding back the tears in my eyes. “Don’t worry about us.” Hans took my hand and pulled me away.
“Be safe, and please take care of your sister. I pray you find food. If you keep north, you should have no problem finding the town.”
“All right,” Hans said, hugging him.
As we walked away, he called after us. “I love you both. I always have.”
“Yeah,” Hans answered.
I turned and smiled, but couldn’t bring myself to tell him I loved him back. Not after all the years of him completely ignoring us and letting the beast abuse us verbally and stealing our food to feed her hideous, gluttonous self.
A tired smile rose on his lips right before the beast’s voice blared from the bunker, calling his name, instantly severing the moment. The sound of her shrill voice pierced my ears, making them ache. And just like that, our dad disappeared into misery.
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