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holding it the entire time.
    “Okay, okay, okay.” I scanned the layout of the bunker while
holding the edge of the table to remain upright and steady my wobbling knees. “Think.”
    I forced myself to move and grabbed a lantern off the shelf,
which I fumbled with it until it switched on. A huge sigh of relief escaped my
throat as the presence of light eased my panic somewhat.
    Whether I was ready to go outside and face the world—or
whatever remained of it—was no longer relevant. The air would eventually run
out and living in the dark didn’t seem all that appealing.
    I gave the crank to the air intake several twists, buying
more time, and easing my worry that I just might pass out from lack of air before
I could move.
    Callie crept out from her hiding place, looking at me
cautiously, as if I might break out singing again—even though any thoughts of birthday
celebration had long passed.
    Thoughts crashed around inside my brain, but I managed to
haul out my duffle bag, organize my supplies, and add more things that would
come in handy—matches, water bottles, air mask, first aid supplies, medicine,
knives, lightweight food, and extra clothing.
    The bag would be heavy, but I didn’t want to leave anything
behind in case I might need it later. As long as I kept busy, there wasn’t time
to think about my situation, so I didn’t stop gathering items until Callie
jumped onto the bed and walked along the edge.
    “What am I going to do with you, huh?”
    The kitten rubbed against the side of the bag then jumped on
top of it as if saying, “Enough.”
    At the rate I was going, the entire bunker would be shoved
inside my duffle bag.
    I stared at Callie, and she stared at me. Carrying her in my
arms was out of the question—she might bolt once we stepped outside and end up scratching
the crap out of me in the process.
    Shove her in my bag? She’d hate that, and I wasn’t sure I
wanted my cat curling up next to my food and clean underwear.
    I flipped open my pocket knife and ran my thumb over the
small blade. Ouch! Jeez! A small trickle of blood formed on my skin. Though
small, the knife sliced my thumb clean. I grabbed the bag and slid it closer
while keeping an eye on my unreliable cat, but Callie rode the thing like a
queen perched on a float. She looked up at me with her green eyes, unafraid.
    I took the knife and leaned closer. “You’re not going to
like this, but it’s for your own good.”
    Quickly, I jabbed several holes in the pocket of the duffle
bag—air holes—then scooped her up and shoved her inside before she could
protest.
    She meowed and wiggled around, scratching the fabric in an
effort to get out.
    “It’s only temporary.” I patted the bulging pocket, trying
to calm her. “I promise.”
    I’d have to come up with something better soon, but for now
it would have to do.
    My breath caught in my throat as I looked around the tiny space
that had been my home for nearly two months. This was it. Time to go. The number
of jumping jacks, stomach crunches, and push-ups I’d done over the past weeks
would have to do. I could build muscle and I could build stamina, but bravery
was something entirely different—I couldn’t build that. Some things had to be seized.
    I shoved the gun in my waistband and tucked the small knife
in my pocket before slipping my arms through the straps of the duffle bag and situating
the heavy sucker on my back—cat side up. Callie meowed near my ear, but I
ignored her, grabbed the lantern, and made my way to the ladder.
    Fifteen rungs high, the ladder may as well have been a
thousand.
    I climbed, reached the top, and placed my hand on one of the
latches, but hesitated as Dad’s voice played over inside my head, “ Don’t you
come out, Tess. You stay put and we’ll be back. Promise me you won’t open this
door.”
    For how long, Dad? Until I die in here, waiting for you?
You should’ve come back for me.
    I flipped open one latch and then another, but with the
third,