My life had a constant background noise: the Geigercounter. It wasn't music, though. A nasty crackling noise, like something breaking, made my stomach drop. It was the kind of sound that instantly put you on edge, waiting for the worst.
Every tick, tick, tick reminded me that danger was close. Radiation was all around, clinging to everything and slowly poisoning us. For two decades, that device on my wrist had guided me through this world, warning me of danger, but it also felt like a terrible burden.
We were TunnelRats, the descendants of those lucky, or maybe unlucky, enough to find haven in the abandoned subway system beneath what was once CapitolValley. The bombs fell in '47.
Grandpa used to tell tall tales about a time when there were sirens and bright explosions. He said the world above broke apart. Now, we only have stories and the sound of the air vents. The vents run on electricity from a shaky water-powered generator far underground.
Life in the tunnels was… well, life. We had rules, strict rules. Food was rationed, and everyone had to work in the hydroponics farms, growing plants with artificial light. Each day everyone took a rad-treatment for their health, a chalky pill that tasted terrible and made you wonder what the Council was hiding.
TheCouncil, a bunch of old codgers who remembered the Before Times, ruled with an iron fist. They preached unity, sacrifice, and the absolute necessity of staying below.
The tunnels grew quiet, except for the sound of hushed rumors. Whispers of the surface. Of green things growing without artificial light. Of… possibilities.
Today was the day I ignored the Council and followed those whispers.
They call me Amara, but inside, I'm just so tired of this darkness. It feels like it's seeped into my very bones.
I got my scavenge bag ready. Inside, I had nutrient paste to eat, a rusty pipe wrench (which I liked to use as a weapon), and a container of water. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I met Frank, my best friend and partner in crime, at the maintenance tunnel leading to the abandoned platform of what used to be a major station. He was grinning, his scarred face alight with a nervous energy that mirrored my own.
"Ready to taste the sun, Amara?" he asked, his voice barely a breath.
"If there is a sun, Frank," I replied, tightening my grip on the wrench. "And if it doesn't fry us the second we step out."
We spent weeks reinforcing our old hazmat suits. Stolen from storage, patched with salvaged rubber and hope. They were bulky and stiff, but hopefully enough to give us a fighting chance. The Geiger counter around my wrist was screaming now, a frantic, high-pitched whine as we approached the sealed exit doors.
Frank punched in the secret code he'd "borrowed" from a dissatisfied technician. The doors protested loudly as they began to open, showing a crack of...light.
We stepped out.
The world felt drained of vibrant colors. Everything was washed out, mostly grays and dull browns.
Above, the sky was heavy and oppressive. Below, the land was covered in reddish-brown dust, and the buildings around me were just empty, decaying frames reaching up towards a sky that felt foreign.
The air itself had a harsh, metallic taste, mixed with the scent of rot. And the Geiger counter in my hand screamed a warning, its clicks a morbid song of danger.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Frank said, his voice hushed.
I choked back a sob. Beautiful? It was horrifying. But it was real.
For days, we searched relentlessly. We were looking for anything useful: bits of metal, old, unusable tools, and surprisingly, a damaged book. Inside, it had old, blurry images of...trees. Actual, living trees, unlike the sad, weak imitations we cultivated underground.
The radiation was brutal. The hazmat suits were only buying us time. We found mutated creatures – there were twisted, bony dogs with eyes that glowed, and huge rats with missing patches of fur. We were forced to fight them off using our old, rusty weapons and fueled by desperate will.
We even found other survivors. A small group, taking shelter in what was left of a library, led by a woman with a kind face and a rifle slung across her back. They were cautious of us at first, but they were generous enough to share their small amount of food. They told us about other groups of people who had managed to survive and were holding on to life in this blasted wasteland.
A feeling of hope began to grow within me. Perhaps we really could rebuild, after all.
But the surface had a cruel lesson in store for us. The sun had just set, and we were eating a simple dinner – radroach stew, if you can believe it.
Our peaceful meal was interrupted by a gang of raiders. They were armed to the teeth and didn't seem to have any mercy. They stormed into the library, killing anyone who stood in their way and stealing anything of value they could find.
Frank and I fought alongside the library survivors. We fought with everything we had, but we were outnumbered, outgunned. I watched, helpless, as Frank was shot down in front of me, the bullet made a large, open wound on his chest.
A cold, sharp rage erupted inside me. Spotting a piece of twisted metal nearby, I grabbed it and ran towards the raider who had killed Frank. I swung with every ounce of my strength, and the metal connected with the raider's head. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The last of the raiders paused, their eyes showing surprise at the strength of my attack. Their boss, a rough man with a scar and an empty eye socket, shouted an order. Obeying him, the raiders turned and retreated, leaving evidence of their violent raid in their wake: blood and ruined property.
I knelt beside Frank, his blood staining my hands. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the grey sky.
"I… I saw the sun, Amara," he whispered, his voice barely heard.
And, he was gone.
I buried him with my bare hands in the irradiated earth. The Geiger counter screamed in protest, but I didn't care. All I felt was emptiness.
I returned to the tunnels alone. The Council was furious, demanding an explanation for my recklessness. I told them everything. About the surface, about the survivors, about the raiders… about Frank.
They listened in silence, their faces looked concern. Then, the Head Councilor, his face showed with disapproval, spoke.
"You have endangered the entire community, Amara. Your actions have brought the attention of the surface dwellers upon us."
I braced myself for punishment, for imprisonment. But it never came.
Instead, the Head Councilor smiled. But it was a smile that sent shivers down your spine, hinting at something sinister.
"But you have also brought us something valuable, Amara. Information. And something else…" He gestured to his guards, who dragged a struggling figure into the room.
It was one of the raiders, the one I had knocked unconscious.
"He tells us of resources, of power, of other settlements ripe for the taking." A terrifying ambition lit up the Head Councilor's face. "We have been hiding in the dark for too long, Amara. It is time for the Tunnel Rats to inherit the surface."
The Geiger counter's song reached a fever pitch, the noise it made was incredibly loud, a clear sign of massive danger.
The truth was a punch to the gut. The Council didn't give a damn about hope, about rebuilding. They only cared about power. And now, using my knowledge and driven by their own twisted ambition, they were going to unleash hell upon the surface.
I had opened Pandora's Box.
I looked at the Head Councilor, at his twisted smile. I saw the cold determination in the other Council members' eyes. And then I knew. The biggest threat wasn't the radiation, wasn't the mutated creatures, wasn't even the raiders. It was us. It was what we were capable of: greed, violence, and complete indifference to human life.
The world above was already broken. But now, the Tunnel Rats were going to finish the job, to make things even worse, completely destroying what was left.