‘It’s been more than 36 hours.’ Jenny was in front of the metal-plated door, her hands splayed in front of her, as if testing the temperature of the world that was just beyond it.
‘That was only a guide. We all agreed, Jen, that we need to wait another 12 hours at least.’
‘But I’m sure I can hear something, someone, just outside the door. It can’t hurt, can it, just to open it a little? To see what’s out there?’
There was a roar of protest behind her, and Jenny shifted away from the door, her eyes flicking about in the muted lighting of the bunker.
‘Two days. That’s the timeframe.’ Rob’s voice was clear, but there was a slight tremor as it carried through the musty space.
Jenny sidled past Rob and sat in one of the camp chairs that had promised comfort but had been giving her back pain for hours. She closed her eyes, but once more she heard a faint scratching. What if someone was out there, desperate to get in? There was hardly space for the four of them, but could they all live with the guilt if they didn’t at least try to save someone else?
‘Probably just an animal,’ Damien’s voice was low, a deep rumble in the small space. ‘If there was anything out there, that is.’
Jenny turned and gave him a half-smile. It was a small gesture, but she appreciated his support. She glanced around the bunker. Rob and Mia were reading a magazine by a battery-powered lantern. Jenny focused on the way Mia licked her finger before turning the page, anything to distract from the sense of claustrophobia that seemed to be squeezing at her head.
She and Damien were lucky to be here, to be safe. To have neighbours who took them into their backyard bunker when the fire front raged through the outskirts of the town. Jenny closed her eyes as she thought of the box of treasured photos and papers that had been on the kitchen bench. In the panic, she and Damien had been so caught up in getting out that it had been left behind.
She looked at her watch, then over at Rob and Mia. If they fell asleep, she could at least try to get out a little sooner. Rob had given them a lecture on why they needed to stay in the bunker for 48 hours. There was the risk of fire fronts moving back, even if everything had already been burned out. But what if there were people out there, looking for them? Jen’s mobile had died at some point during the interminable night. There hadn’t been a signal, but it had been a link with the outside world, and without it, she was feeling more agitated than she could manage.
And there was that sound again. A persistent tapping. Jenny stood up and headed towards the door, determined to open it this time.
This piece was written to a prompt on the Writer’s Digest website. Hunker Down: the residents of a bunker are disagreeing.
Photo: scorched trees near Blackheath, NSW
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