Beneath the flickering dim yellow light in a dark alleyway, a young girl laid flat on her stomach atop a dented ventilation shaft, elbows propped and chin resting on her hands. Below her, between a cracked concrete wall and a pile of rusting scrap, a small black kitten was grooming itself. Its ears twitched and its tail swished in lazy arcs. Kess watched, her breath shallow, as if the force of her attention alone might scare it off. Her hazel eyes shone with uncanny focus, undeterred by the dark strands of hair falling across her vision.
The kitten paused its cleaning and glanced toward her, eyes reflecting the yellow-tinted flicker of overhead lights like tiny twin moons. She held her breath.
"Yo, Kess!"
A familiar voice cut thorugh the air like a buzzsaw.
The kitten bolted.
"Leonard!" Kess rolled over with an exaggerated groan and glared up at the boy approaching across the paved walkway. "You scared it!"
Leonard raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry! Didn't know you'd suddenly fancied oversized rats."
She got to her feet and marched over, giving him a light but pointed smack on the forehead with her knuckles.
"Ow!"
"It was a kitten, idiot." Kess corrected. "And maybe it liked me. You ever think about that?"
"Liked you? As if." He rubbed his forehead, only half pretending to be injured. "You could've caught it, you know? Sold it to some Upper District kid with a furry obsession. I've heard those things are worth a fortune. Easy credits."
Kess scowled and crossed her arms. "I'd rather it stay free than wind up as some rich brat's decoration."
Leonard smirked, but there was a touch of admiration behind it. "Still the noble rebel, huh?"
She glared at him. "Well, somebody has to be."
The faint hum of the ventilation system buzzed around them, punctuated by the occational drip from a leaking pipe.
"Why'd you come find me?" Kess jumped down from the ventilation shaft, brushing dirt and wrinkles off her oversized worn-out leather jacket.
Leonard's expression shifted. He leaned in slightly. "They're coming back today."
Kess blinked. "The Guides?"
Leonard nodded. "I saw the guards preparing. Portal opens in less than an hour."
Her eyes lit up. "We've got time."
"You're not thinking—?"
But she was already moving, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips. "Come on. Last one to the vents owes the other a ration bar."
***
They slipped through a loose service grate behind a rusted refuse pipe, into the maze-like guts of Bunker C-48.
With the destruction of the surface—decades of war, climate collapse, or something even worse—humanity had scattered like ash in the wind. An elite few along with the richest of the rich fled aboard the Voyager, a sprawling interstellar ark with the impossible mission of finding a new habitable world. But most people weren't invited.
The rest were herded underground, into doomsday bunkers carved beneath ancient cities and bombed-out nations. Some bunkers were built with care, others in desperation. Bunker C-48 had once been a marvel—airtight, self-sustaining, sheltering hundreds of thousands—but that was over three hundred years ago.
Now, fourteen generations later, it creaked and wheezed beneath its own decay.
The maintenance tunnels reeked of oil and rust. The walls sweated condensation that pooled into slick puddles. Wiring hung like vines from the ceilings. Light flickered in brief stutters, then steadied, as if the whole place was breathing through its last lungs.
"You know," Leonard muttered, ducking beneath a hanging pipe, "if this whole place collapsed tomorrow, I don't think anyone would notice."
"They'd notice," Kess replied. "We'd make sure of it."
He grinned—then immediately smacked his head against the vent ceiling with a hollow thunk.
"Ugh. Is it just me, or is this damn place shrinking?" He rubbed his head and gave the metal walls a frustrated glare.
Kess chuckled. "You're just getting taller. Might have to find a new path if you keep growing like that."
C-48 was divided into seven floors, each floor its own district. At the top—literally—were the wealthy, the ones who'd never miss a meal and could afford recycled air units and personal water purifiers. Their homes were clean, bright, and sterile.
Beneath them lied the portal chamber. A massive chamber, once filled with state-of-the-art technological weaponry and tightly guarded surveillance year-round. Nowadays, the guards would only mobilize when the Guides entered and exited—no need to waste funds and manpower.
Then came the lower districts: broken lighting, broken promises, broken people. Kess had been born here. Her mother had died from a lung infection when the filters failed. Nobody was punished. Nobody was even surprised.
And yet, the people here endured. Somehow.
Each district was connected by tightly guarded stairs and aging elevators. But through years of exploring the bunker's inner workings, Kess had found another path—the ventilation system.
They climed up a rickety service ladder toward a vent shaft high on the wall of the portal chamber. The metal shook with every movement, but Kess moved confidently, having done this too many times to count. Leonard followed with more caution.
As they reached the grate and crouched behind it, the room beyond stretched out before them.
The portal stood at its center: an arch of dull metal, ringed with coils and pulsing lights. It crackled softly, charging.
Seventy years ago, the Voyager had sent word. It had found a planet—a strange one, wild and dangerous, but habitable. The portals opened soon after, linking Earth's bunkers to scattered locations across the alien world.
Not every bunker was lucky. Some portals opened in safe zones; others opened in deadly forests or monster-infested valleys. C-48's portal opened in a perilous forest, distant from the human cities. Only Guides—trained scouts who had memorized safe paths—could lead people through it.
Most of the time, the Guides came back just long enough to drop people off and collect payment from the upper districts. Some were arrogant, others quiet. But all of them had been to the other side.
Some didn't return at all.
Kess and Leonard excitedly waited from behind the ventilation grill as the guards lined up in formation, guns pointed at the whirring machine—a mere formality at this point.
The portal, at first silent, flickered like a breath held too long — then bloomed open in a shimmering ring of pale blue. Light poured onto the steel floor, rippling with soft hums. The guards stepped back. The air turned sharp, humming faintly with static.
Kess stared with wide eyes and Leonard leaned forward, "Here we go."
Through the swirl of light came the Guides. Five of them. No civilians. No returning settlers. Just the ones who'd braved the wilds and come back alive.
Their gear was scratched, their faces weathered. They moved with calm precision. One of them—tall, with a black eye and a scar along her jaw—looked like she hadn't slept in days. Still, her eyes were sharp, and her gaze precise.
Kess stared, captivated.
"They always look so… ready," she said.
Leonard rested his chin on folded arms. "They have to be. The other side doesn't care if you're rich or smart. It only cares if you're fast, strong, or lucky."
"They're like myths."
"Expensive myths."
Kess watched the last person step through—a woman in light leather armor, tall, graceful, with a blonde braid trailing over one shoulder.
Natalie.
As soon as she passed through, she stopped.
Her eyes flicked up. Toward them.
Kess's heart jumped.
Then Natalie smirked.
"She saw us," Kess whispered.
"She always sees us," Leonard groaned.
"She's gonna scold us."
"Yup."
***
They slipped back through the vents, moving as fast and silently as they could. Their knees scraped against the metal. Leonard hit his head once again and cursed.
"She looked exhausted," Kess said after a while. "You think something happened?"
"Maybe. They didn't look happy."
"Do you think they lost someone?"
Leonard was quiet.
Kess filled the silence. "I bet they fought off a pack of monsters. Spirewolves. Maybe something worse.
"I heard there are ruins on the other side," Leonard added. "Alien cities. Cursed places. What if they found one?"
"They wouldn't tell us."
"No," he agreed. "Not unless they had to."
"I still want to go one day," she said.
Leonard sighed. "I know."
They dropped down into the alley just as the hum of the portal chamber faded into the background.
Then—
"BOO!"
Arms locked around their shoulders. Kess let out a squeak; Leonard nearly leapt into a wall.
Natalie stood behind them, laughing with delight. Her armor was dusty, her eyes tired, but her grin was unmistakable.
"You two really haven't changed," she said.
"You scared the crap out of us!" Leonard protested.
Kess beamed and jumped in to give her a hug. "You're back!"
Natalie grinned wider. "Come on. I've got deliveries to make."
***
They walked with her through Sector D3—cracked walkways, leaky ceilings, neighbors leaning from windows to wave. Natalie carried her heavy duffel bag like it was filled with feathers.
She made stops. Gave out wrapped ration bricks. Slid medical packs to elders with shaking hands. Handed toys to kids. She knew everyone by name. They loved her.
"You spoil us, Nat," said a shopkeeper missing half his teeth.
She laughed. "I'll take payment in stories next time."
Even the gang boys nodded respectfully as she passed.
"She's a big deal," Leonard said again, softly.
Kess looked up at her, face lit with admiration. "Yeah. She is."
***
Their apartment was narrow, patched with sheet metal and mold-stained corners. But it was home.
Natalie shed her armor, kicked off her boots, and flopped onto the couch in her undershirt and shorts. She popped open a can of warm beer and took a long sip.
Kess plopped down beside her, her eyes practically sparkling. "So~ tell me something good."
Natalie raised an eyebrow. "You still curious?"
"Always."
"Alright," Natalie said, stretching. Then, leaning in to a mischievous grin she began, "Everything was fine this time until..."
***
Deep beneath them, the portal room blinked.
The lights flickered.
The portal sparked—once, twice—and something vast stirred behind its glow. Something that didn't belong in this world.
Through the swirl of light, a carapaced leg—vast and segmented, the size of a pillar—pressed into the steel of the bunker floor.
For the first time, the portal brought something through on its own.
And for the first time, the bunker had visitors.