By day seven, the world outside had become unrecognizable. Ethan watched the final news broadcasts before the last stations went off the air. The death toll was estimated in the millions globally. Entire cities were buried under snow. The few governments still functioning had retreated to bunkers and emergency facilities, leaving the general population to fend for themselves.
It was, by any definition, the apocalypse.
Inside the bunker, an uneasy routine had developed. Ethan maintained strict control over everything. He'd set up the Chen family in a separate section of the bunker, smaller and less comfortable than his own quarters, with carefully rationed access to supplies.
Every morning at eight, they gathered in the common area for breakfast. Ethan portioned out the food precisely, enough to keep them healthy but not comfortable. It was a subtle reminder of who held power here.
On this particular morning, Robert was finally conscious and sitting at the table, still weak but recovering. Dylan's frostbitten feet had been treated as well as possible, several toes were certainly dead tissue, but Ethan had decided to wait before attempting any amputation. Let Dylan live with the pain and uncertainty for a while.
"We need to discuss the long-term situation," Robert said as Ethan distributed breakfast rations. His voice had regained some of its old authority, the tone of a man used to being in charge. "How long can this bunker sustain all of us?"
"Indefinitely," Ethan replied. "I have supplies for five years minimum, and systems that can recycle and produce more. Water, air, power, all self-sustaining."
"That's impressive," Robert said, and there was genuine respect in his voice. "You've built something remarkable here. But five people will consume resources faster than one. We should discuss rationing, work assignments, and a management structure."
Ethan smiled coldly. "There already is a management structure. I'm in charge. You follow my rules. That's the entirety of it."
Robert's jaw tightened. "Ethan, I understand you're angry, but we need to be practical. I have decades of business management experience. Margaret has organizational skills. Even Dylan, once he recovers, can contribute. We should work together as a family, pool our resources and expertise."
"We're not a family," Ethan said flatly. "We're survivors sharing a space out of necessity. Nothing more."
"That's not sustainable," Robert argued. "You can't run everything yourself indefinitely. You'll need help, and we're offering it. Let us contribute. Let us earn our keep."
Ethan studied Robert, seeing the calculation behind the reasonable words. This was how Robert operated, always angling for control, always looking for leverage. Give him an inch and he'd take everything.
"No," Ethan said. "You're here suffering. You eat what I give you, sleep where I assign you, and follow my rules without question. If that's not acceptable, the door is right there."
He gestured toward the airlock. Through the cameras, they could all see the howling blizzard outside, the temperature readout showing minus forty degrees.
Robert's face flushed with anger, but he said nothing.
Dylan, however, couldn't contain himself. "This is bullshit! You're treating us like prisoners!"
"You're free to leave anytime," Ethan reminded him.
"With what? You think I can walk with these feet? You think any of us can survive out there?"
"That's your problem, not mine. I'm providing you with food, water, warmth, and medical care. In return, I expect gratitude and obedience. Fail to provide either, and we can renegotiate your tenancy here."
Margaret placed a hand on Dylan's arm, silencing him. She looked at Ethan with something that might have been sadness or might have been calculation. "We understand, Ethan. And we're grateful. We'll follow your rules."
"Good," Ethan stood, collecting the empty breakfast containers. "Now, since you mentioned work assignments, Robert, I need someone to catalog the supply inventory in storage room B. That will be your job for the next week. Margaret, you can handle cleaning and maintenance of the common areas. Dylan, once your feet heal enough, you'll take over waste management and recycling duties. Jessica, you're on food preparation under my supervision."
He watched their faces as they processed their new roles. These were menial tasks, jobs that made clear their diminished status. Robert, the successful businessman, reduced to counting canned goods. Margaret, who'd employed housekeepers, now doing manual labor herself.
"Any questions?" Ethan asked.
Robert opened his mouth, then closed it again. Margaret shook her head. Dylan glared but said nothing. Jessica just nodded meekly.
"Excellent. Get to work."
As they dispersed to their assignments, Ethan returned to his command center. He pulled up the external cameras, checking the perimeter. The snow had drifted against the bunker entrance, nearly burying it completely. Anyone who didn't know exactly where to look would never find this place.
They were completely isolated from whatever remained of the outside world.
His computer chimed with an alert. One of his automated systems had detected a radio signal, faint and intermittent, but definitely man-made. Ethan pulled up the communications console and began scanning frequencies.
After several minutes of searching, he found it. A repeating message on an emergency band: "This is Emergency Broadcast Station Alpha Seven. If anyone can hear this, survivors are gathering at the Henderson Military Base, coordinates 42.3456, negative 78.9012. We have power, heat, and supplies. Repeat, survivors should make their way to Henderson Military Base."
Ethan memorized the coordinates and pulled up a map. Henderson Base was about two hundred miles northeast of his location. In normal conditions, a few hours' drive. In this weather, it might as well be on the moon.
But it was information. Proof that other pockets of civilization still existed.
The question was whether he should tell the others.
He was still considering when Margaret appeared in the doorway of the command center. "Ethan, can we talk? Just the two of us?"
Ethan gestured to a chair. "Make it quick. I have work to do."
Margaret sat, her hands folded in her lap. She looked older than Ethan remembered, the stress and exposure had aged her years in just days. "I wanted to talk about your mother. About Sarah. You said yesterday you wanted to know more about her."
"I do. But I also want to verify your story before I invest emotionally in it."
"That's fair," Margaret nodded. "I can't prove anything without the documents from the safe deposit box. But I can tell you about her. What she was like, how she lived. Would that help?"
Ethan considered. It couldn't hurt to listen, and he was curious despite himself. "Go ahead."
"Sarah was brilliant," Margaret began, her eyes going distant with memory. "Smarter than me, though I'd never admit it when we were young. She studied biochemistry in college, and wanted to cure diseases, save the world. She had this fierce determination about her, like nothing could stop her once she set her mind to something."
"What happened?"
"Life happened. She graduated with honors, got a job at a research facility in Seattle, and was on track for everything she wanted. Then she got pregnant with you. She never said it was unplanned, but I always suspected it was. Sarah loved control, and pregnancy, especially one without a partner, wasn't part of her plan."
Margaret paused, her voice becoming softer. "But once she decided to keep you, she threw herself into it the same way she approached everything. Read every book, plan every detail. She was going to be the perfect mother, raise you to be as brilliant as she was. She used to send me letters about you, about all the things she was going to teach you, the life you'd have together."
"Then she died," Ethan said.
"Then she died," Margaret agreed. "Complications during delivery. The doctors said it was unpreventable, just one of those tragic things. But Sarah, she knew something was wrong. In her last moments, when they let me into the room, she made me promise to take you, to give you all the love and opportunities she'd planned. And I promised. God help me, I promised, and then I broke that promise the moment Dylan was born."
Tears were running down Margaret's face now. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm so, so sorry. Sarah trusted me with her most precious gift, and I squandered it. I let my own selfishness destroy what should have been sacred."
Ethan watched her cry, feeling nothing. "Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me? Forgiveness?"
"No," Margaret wiped her eyes. "I don't deserve forgiveness. I just want you to know that you came from someone extraordinary. Someone who would have loved you fiercely. You're not just some throwaway kid nobody wanted. You're Sarah Mitchell's son, and that means something."
"Does it?" Ethan leaned back in his chair. "Because from where I'm sitting, it just means I lost two mothers instead of one. The one who died bringing me into the world, and the one who promised to honor her memory and didn't."
Margaret flinched as if struck. "You're right. You're absolutely right."
"I know I am," Ethan stood, signaling the conversation was over. "Now get back to work. Those common areas won't clean themselves."
Margaret left, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Ethan watched her go, then turned back to his monitors.
The radio signal continued its loop, promising safety and supplies at Henderson Base. Ethan made a decision. He wouldn't tell the others about it. Not yet. Information was power, and he wasn't ready to share that power.
Instead, he began making plans. Eventually, the immediate crisis would stabilize. The temperature would stop dropping, or they'd adapt to the new normal. When that happened, he'd need to scout the outside world, make contact with other survivors, establish trade or alliances.
But that was Ethan's future problem. Present Ethan had a bunker to run and four unwanted guests to manage.
He pulled up the security logs and began his daily review, noting that Robert had spent an unusually long time in storage room B during his inventory work. Ethan switched to the cameras in that room and reviewed the footage.
There. Robert pocketed a small package of freeze dried food, slipping it into his jacket when he thought the camera wasn't watching.
Ethan smiled coldly. So it begins. The small rebellions, the testing of boundaries, the inevitable power struggle.
He'd dealt with that before, in his previous life, watching how quickly civilization collapsed when resources became scarce. People reverted to their base natures, took what they could, justified their selfishness with necessity.
Robert had just made his first mistake. Now Ethan had leverage, proof of theft that he could use when the time was right.
The game had truly begun.