“Good morning, everybody! It’s your favorite apocalypse radio host — A Bear Named Panda!”

  I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.

  Why doesn’t he just change his name already?

  Another lonely day in the bunker.

  How long has it been?

  Two years… maybe three.

  Am I nineteen?

  Or twenty?

  I stopped counting after I crossed out the last square on the calendar.

  Time doesn’t feel real down here anyway.

  My dad was trash.

  Well… he wasn’t always like that.

  He changed making an excuse that the war messed him up.

  Crazy. Paranoid. Angry.

  I thought the serum was supposed to prevent PTSD.

  Guess that was another lie.

  Still… his paranoia saved my life.

  He built this bunker himself — reinforced steel walls, air filtration, hidden entrance. He stocked it with ten years of food, water, medical supplies… everything.

  My mom added the human part.

  A game system.

  Twenty USB cards loaded with movies and shows.

  Every day I thank her for that.

  Without entertainment… I probably would’ve let the SZ Soldiers eat me by now.

  That’s what A Bear Named Panda said the government calls them.

  Apparently, soldiers who took the serum and were exposed to the bio-poison don’t stay dead. They reanimate after death.

  Stronger.

  Faster.

  Hungry.

  But something about it still didn’t make sense.

  My uncle never got sick like everyone else did.

  Neither did my dad.

  They’d both been alive for more than seventy years — and still looked like they were in their late twenties.

  The serum really did work.

  At least… at first.

  The radio crackled again.

  “Listen, folks… come here. Get close to your radio, phone, or television. A Bear Named Panda has something important to tell you.”

  I sat up a little straighter on my bed.

  His voice had changed.

  Serious.

  That wasn’t normal for him.

  “The top brass — yeah, the ones sittin’ pretty in their plush chairs — have started mobilizing the KOMBOT units. You remember them, don’t you?”

  A pause.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Static hissed.

  “The ones they scrapped after introducing the super serum. Ah, who am I kiddin’… you kiddos wouldn’t remember. That was about… what… one hundred twelve years ago?”

  He chuckled.

  “Hell, I don’t even remember.”

  My stomach tightened.

  KOMBOT units.

  The name definitely rang a bell.

  They were military robots… pre-serum era.

  Which meant only one thing.

  Something big was about to happen.

  My stomach tightened again.

  Different reason this time.

  Looks like I’m hungry.

  I turned toward my best friend.

  Lulu.

  “What are we eating today, Lulu?” I asked the sock puppet.

  She was my favorite toy when I was four. Mom never got rid of her. For years I hated seeing her — she reminded me of being a helpless kid.

  Now?

  I was just glad she was here.

  “Cereal with powdered milk… or Pop-Tarts?”

  Lulu’s head tilted slightly to the right.

  “I’ll take that as Pop-Tarts for breakfast.”

  I hopped off the bed and started toward the food storage area.

  Then—

  BANG!

  The entire bunker rattled.

  My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

  BANG!

  Another hit slammed against the outer door.

  I froze for half a second… then exhaled.

  Morning already.

  Every day — like clockwork — some SZ Soldier would show up and pound on the bunker door for about fifteen minutes.

  I still had no idea how they even knew this place existed.

  My dad had a giant privacy gate installed before construction even started. He told everyone he was just building a patio.

  From the outside?

  That’s exactly what it looked like.

  Concrete slab.

  Outdoor furniture.

  Grill.

  Nobody would ever guess there was a reinforced survival bunker underneath.

  BANG!

  The metal groaned.

  I kept moving.

  Routine was survival.

  Panic was death.

  I pulled two Pop-Tarts from a sealed container, tossed them into the small toaster unit, and poured myself some powdered milk.

  Another loud slam echoed through the walls.

  I grabbed my out-of-service phone — basically an MP3 player now — shoved in my earbuds, and turned on some music.

  If I couldn’t hear the banging…

  It didn’t exist.

  A few minutes later, I felt the vibrations stop.

  They always left eventually.

  They always came back the next day.

  And I was still alive.

  For now.

  I gobbled down the Pop-Tarts, drank my milk, and got ready for my daily workout.

  My phone’s clock might not show the right time—or even the right year—but I still keep track. Discipline matters.

  I started my jog on the treadmill for exactly one hour.

  Halfway through, the radio crackled, static slicing through the air like a knife.

  “Aye, list up my lil bamboos!” Panda’s voice boomed. “If you’re on a military base or outpost, you should dial this number: 505-505-7777. Tell them your location… if you want to survive.”

  I almost broke my leg jumping off the treadmill to grab my phone.

  “Again, my bamboo pookie-poos! That number is 505-505-7777. Now this is only for military brats. You unimportant civilians? Y’all gotta wait a little longer. Don’t die until then.”

  I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath.

  Somehow, even in the apocalypse, Panda always found a way to make me laugh… and panic at the same time.

  Without hesitation, I dialed the number.

  It actually rang.

  For the first time in forever, I heard a human voice… or at least what I thought was a human voice.

  “Hello. I am Eve. What is your location?”

  “Um… hi. Yes, I’m at the military base… Fort Benning. I don’t know my exact coordinates,” I blurted out.

  “That’s fine. I am pinpointing your location. This will take a moment.”

  Silence filled the line. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

  “Got it. There are 23 others in your vicinity. Extraction will commence in one hour. Please be ready. Goodbye.”

  “Wait!” I shouted, but the line had gone dead.

  I could barely believe what I’d just heard.

  Am I really getting out of this hellhole?

  I fell to my knees, ready to cry, like the first day I made it to the bunker. But I forced it down. Not yet. Not until I was safe.

  That hour felt like an eternity.

  I tried watching shows, rewatching movies, packing my to-go bag twice… nothing made time move faster.

  Then I heard it. Pods crashing to the ground. Gunfire ripping through the air.

  I waited ten minutes, but the bullets didn’t stop.

  Something inside me snapped. I had to move.

  I pushed through the bunker door and stepped out.

  Gun smoke curled around shattered concrete. Robots everywhere — the KOMBOT units. They were gunning down anything that moved.

  No helicopters in the sky… except for two that were already retreating.

  I was about to yell, “Wait!” when a voice stopped me.

  “Wait!”

  I turned to run back, but froze.

  Two SZ Soldiers were tag-teaming a KOMBOT unit.

  I didn’t need to look twice to know — that was my dad and my uncle.

  But my dad’s lower half… completely healed from where my uncle had torn him open.

  They moved like a well-oiled machine.

  My uncle lunged first, drawing the KOMBOT unit’s attention with a reckless charge. The machine fired — but my dad was already there, knocking the barrel aside. The shot went wide, blasting a crater into the asphalt.

  My uncle came in from the flank.

  Crack.

  His fist caved in the unit’s chest plate like it was soda can aluminum.

  Before the robot even hit the ground, my dad grabbed its head and twisted.

  Metal screamed.

  The head tore free in a spray of sparks.

  Another KOMBOT unit rushed them.

  Then another.

  Then three more.

  They didn’t panic.

  They adjusted.

  My dad dropped low, sweeping one unit’s legs out while my uncle drove an elbow straight through another’s visor. They moved around each other without looking, each one covering the other’s blind spots like they’d done this a thousand times before.

  Two robots went down.

  Then a third.

  My uncle caught one mid-swing, locked its arm, and used its own momentum to flip it over his shoulder. My dad stomped down on its neck joint, crushing circuitry with a wet metallic crunch.

  For a moment… it looked like they might actually win.

  Then more KOMBOT units poured into the street.

  Five.

  Eight.

  Ten.

  Gunfire erupted.

  Even SZ Soldiers couldn’t dodge everything.

  My dad took a round through the shoulder that spun him sideways. My uncle roared and charged, ripping a robot apart with his bare hands — but another unit slammed into his back, driving a blade through his ribs.

  They kept fighting anyway.

  Back to back.

  Bleeding.

  Still moving together.

  Still protecting each other.

  A blade took my uncle right leg off, dropping him to one knee.

  My dad turned to help him.

  That moment of hesitation was all the machines needed.

  Three KOMBOT units moved at once.

  One pinned my dad’s arms.

  Another drove a blade through his chest.

  The third grabbed his head.

  Snap.

  It came off clean.

  My uncle screamed — a sound that didn’t even sound human anymore — and tore one of the robots in half before two more units tackled him to the ground.

  He fought like a wild animal.

  Until a blade slid under his jaw.

  A twist.

  Silence.

  Both heads separated from their bodies.

  Even though they were no longer my dad and uncle… I couldn’t help but cry.

  I slammed the bunker doors shut, locking them tight.

  I couldn’t stay here.

  I had no choice but to escape through the narrow tunnel my dad had dug.

  It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t safe.

  But if I wanted to survive… I had to go.