Concrete Box

The metal door hit the concrete floor with a final, echoing thud. The emergency locks hissed, sealing us inside.

The air inside the bunker smelled like old dust and cold copper. I collapsed against the concrete wall, my knees giving out completely. The rubber mask felt sticky against my face. I reached up with trembling fingers, unbuckled the straps, and ripped it off. I took a deep breath of the filtered air, but my lungs still felt tight.

"Are you hurt?" Garrison asked.

He didn't wait for my answer. He dropped his rifle onto the floor, the metal clattering against the stone, and came down on his knees right in front of me. His large hands grabbed my shoulders, checking my arms, my neck, and my chest for any signs of blood or tears in my clothes. His face was covered in black soot from the explosion outside, but his gray eyes were completely clear, locked onto mine with a terrifying intensity.

"I am fine," I said, my voice cracking. "The steering column just pinned my legs for a second. I am not bleeding."

"You drove that truck straight into a firing turret, Valerie," he growled. His hands moved up to my face, his thumbs wiping the sweat from my forehead. His grip was tight, almost painful, but I didn't pull away. "You could have been torn to pieces. I told you to stay back."

"If I stayed back, that thing would have killed you before you even touched the terminal," I retorted, my glare meeting his. "I am a medic, Garrison. I don't sit around and watch my patients get slaughtered."

"I am not your patient," he whispered, his face moving closer to mine. The heat radiating from his body cut through the chill of the concrete room. "Don't ever do that again. Do you hear me?"

"Or what?"

"Or I will lock you in the inner holding cell myself," he said, his lips brushing against my jawline as he spoke. His breath was hot against my skin, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight down my spine. "I didn't drag you out of that city just to watch you commit suicide in a mountain garage."

"You threw my sister out of a vehicle, Garrison," I said, the image of Cynthia's blank, dead eyes flashing behind my eyelids. "You shot her in the chest. You left your father to be eaten by monsters. Don't act like you are the protector of the innocent."

Garrison pulled back slightly, his expression turning into a cold, hard mask. He stood up, offering his hand to me.

"I protected the only person who matters. If you think I am a monster for that, then fine. But you are alive to call me one."

I looked at his hand, then looked up at his face. The anger between us was heavy with the weight of the last six months, but underneath it was that same dark, addictive pull that had ruined me the first time he touched me. I took his hand, and he hauled me to my feet with a single, effortless pull, bringing my chest flush against his vest.

"Where are we?" I asked, keeping my hands flat against his chest to maintain some distance.

"The primary intake airlock," Garrison said, his eyes dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my gaze. "The main living quarters are down the corridor. Follow me."

He didn't grab my wrist this time, but he stayed close enough that our shoulders brushed with every step down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. The lights overhead were faint yellow bulbs, flickering occasionally as the bunker's backup generators struggled to stabilize.

"Is there anyone else here?" I asked, looking at the closed metal doors we passed.

"No," Garrison said. "This place was built for a skeleton crew of twelve officers. When the quarantine failed in the outer zone, the staff here abandoned the post to try and reach the capital. They left the automated systems online."

"So we are completely alone."

"Completely," he said, stopping outside an iron door at the end of the hall. He swiped his biometric card, and the door slid sideways with a mechanical click. "This is the commander's quarters. It has an independent power cell and a direct line to the water filters."

I stepped inside the room. It was small, containing nothing but a single bunk bed, a metal desk, and a wall of security monitors flickering with static.

"We need to check the exterior cameras," I said, moving toward the desk. "We need to know if the turrets destroyed those things, or if they are still trying to find a way in."

Garrison walked up behind me, his chest pressing into my back as I reached for the control panel. He reached over my shoulder, his large hand covering mine on the console, stopping my movements completely.

"The cameras are dead, Valerie," he murmured, his voice deep and rough against my ear. "The turret fire took out the external lenses before we even crossed the threshold. Nothing is coming through that door. We are safe."

"Safe," I repeated, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. "The world outside is dead, Garrison. My family is gone. My clinic is gone. How is this safe?"

"Because you are here," he said.

He turned me around slowly, his hands sliding down to wrap around my waist, lifting me slightly until I was sitting on the edge of the metal desk.

"Look at me, Valerie. Forget about the city. Forget about your father. They are gone. It's just you and me now.”

The raw desperation in his eyes broke the last thread of my restraint.

I reached out, fingers digging hard into his dark hair, and dragged him down into a fierce, open-mouthed kiss.