POST WEEKLY PROMPT HERE AS A COMMENT.

Designed by corrupt billionaire Alfred Swanson, the Secured Living Facility, was designed as the ultimate in survival technology. Swanson, after all, is posthumously remembered as the father of the apocalypse. History will come to prove that it was indeed Alfred who sold the infamous “Final Blessing” nuclear-warhead to the radical religious doomsday cult. Having believed them to be harmless even with the aid of nuclear technology, Alfred admittedly found himself anxious about the many what-if’s involved in the situation. He would claim on his death-bed that premonitions led him to construct a survival shelter in case the time truly had come for the followers of the Fallen Angel. Every cent of that fatal transaction was hammered precision drilled and welded into place in an effort to withstand annihilation. Out of a wellspring of empathy, Alfred had decided he was willing to save up to 40 other people, once those he deemed worthy of an “after-life” had been safely hidden away thousands of feet below the city.

The Secured Living Facility or SLF as the refugees had once mocking called it was as cavernous as the bowels of a Battle Ship. Iron walkways and cat-walks lined the insides of the structure, buried deep beneath the remnants of the city. The air was stale, the conditions damp, and almost all of the remaining lighting had once been used only for emergency purposes. Now, running floor-lights and sickly up-lighting lined the narrow passageways between chambers. Disrepair indifferently commanded the majority of the chambers. Dripping sounds rang out monotonously, as if the broken plumbing and leaking HVAC were attempting communication with each other from far and wide within the skeleton of the compound.

There were roughly four survivors, in various states of despondency and paranoia. A few dozen had died, but the ashes remained properly secured and thus pestilence and plague had yet to ride wild through SLF. Most of the essential functions remained functioning, but four individual humans used up far less of the resources than the fifty plus that had been originally planned for.

SLF managed to survive because of its unique parasitic nature. In order to sustain itself, the shelter had been designed with long frenzied tendrils that stabbed up into the remaining infrastructure of the city. Before the rush to finish, plans had been in place that would have outfitted the facility with the needed faculty, tools and resources to expand itself indefinitely safely beneath the ground. Access to the devastation that lingered above-ground would surely prove worthless to anyone that had survived, but the connections to plumbing and electrical wires prophesied of a society flourishing beneath civilization’s death bed likes so many old blankets stuffed in a bin.

It had been nearly 35 years since the doors had closed forever. In that time the facility never truly ascended. Plagued by mismanagement and conflict, the citizens of the facility never had a chance. An oppressive environment was made hostile by the distrust, and unfortunately, the group of people Alfred had gathered together would not be the first post-nuclear society worthy of note. The remaining individuals had avoided the conflict within the citizenry and by the time the unrest had ended, no combatants remained alive to further any cause.

Alex the last engineer kept Spartan quarters. A draughting table lay against the wall, with a long lamp running above it. The glow that illuminated the sketches on the table also illuminated the better part of the chamber. A bed was pushed on the opposite wall resting in near darkness, and she worked at the table frantically yet occasionally, always returning promptly to bed. Although she tinkered, it was infrequent, and served to be more of a distraction than a true passion. She rarely engages the others anymore, and chooses to spend her time alone, believing herself to be the last sane woman on Earth.

Daniel knew very little about the facility, and rarely left his living cell. Having snuck in a week before the “Final Blessing” with supplies, rumor had circulated that he was actually a partner of the illustrious Alfred Swanson. Daniel never confirmed or denied any allegations. In the depths of what remained of humanity, it was hard to understand the paranoia that existed within him. Above-ground, before the scourge, Daniel’s impediment would have been noticeable outright, but with no one around to see him constantly looking over his shoulder or to hear his long monologues, no one was bothered. His paranoia served him well, or so he thought. Years of confusion and misunderstanding, of fear and anxiety sent Daniel sneaking beneath the ground when the rumors had started. Perhaps they had been divine gifts, but Heavenly Aid could not penetrate the foul ozone ravaged landscape and the layers of terrified earth.

Washington is Alex’s son. Having reached puberty, he ventured off on his own in disgust with the others emotional surrender. He existed nomadically, and his silhouette could be seen painting itself along the various walls at all hours. He has held onto hope that there may be others left out in the world. He loves radios, and having grown up watching his mother create and manipulate the physical world, worked to restore and utilize them. He tends to hover around Alex’s chamber, a fact she most certainly realizes. On the days he nearly resigns hope, he sets off far and wide, searching for a way to make it through another day.

Sgt O’Neil was the last symbol of authority remaining. Though she never attempted to discipline Daniel Alex or Washington, she longed for some enemy or outsider to make an opponent or. What terrors came after the radiation set in across the lands and seas? Did not the world need protecting? Trapped underground and feeling useless, she spends her time looking up and planning a future for herself that ends with glorious defeat. She now resides in the armory where the stench of gun cleaner and sulfur never washes off. Well-armed and increasingly desperate, connection to the desolation above them would happen as soon as Sgt O Neil could make it so.