Prompt: Years after a global war forces a small group to seize and lock down a city subway, they are finally forced to step outside. What awaits them?

The End of the World, As We Know It

1: Silo and Darek

The metallic screeching of brake pads against steel tracks still rang in Silo’s ears when the world above them detonated.

She stood on the platform of Washington Metro, her light blue eyes wide, her hand still loosely holding a paper bag containing a freshly bought lip gloss she’d never get to open. Across from her, Darek swept a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, his dark green eyes reflecting the warm glow of the subway station. They were supposed to be having a normal first date, coffee, maybe a walk around the Mall, but the sudden thunderous boom overhead shook dust from the vaulted concrete ceiling.

Then came the screaming. It didn't sound like panic; it sounded like collective horror.

"Stay here," Darek said, his protective instincts overriding everything else as he spun and bolted toward the escalator.

"Darek, wait!" Silo squealed, her sneakers squeaking on the tiles as she chased after him.

Darek sprinted up the stationary steps, but before he could round the upper landing, a body slammed directly into him. The impact knocked him backward, sending him tumbling down the stairs in a chaotic sprawl of elbows and knees.

Silo gasped, lunging forward to help him. "Darek!"

Before Darek could regain his footing, the man who had bowled him over bolted down after them. He grabbed Darek by the jacket collar, yanking him up off the ground with frantic, trembling strength.

"Oh man, I’m so sorry! But you do not want to go out there," the man panted, his breath hitching as his wide eyes darted back toward the street-level exit. "You do not want to see those things."

Darek rubbed the back of his neck, wincing from the fall. "Things? What things?"

The stranger rubbed the back of his neck in frustration, his chest heaving under a grease-stained jacket. He sighed, a harsh, ragged breath. "Yeah, I don't know what to call them. I've never seen anything like it. They are slimy and gross-looking with huge, razor-sharp teeth. Terrifying!"

He said that last word in a slightly mocking tone—a nervous, sharp defensive mechanism—that made Silo’s stomach drop into a cold abyss.

2: Vane

Darek finished up brushing the grey grime off his jeans after his tumble down the stairs, his eyes scanning the frightened man standing before them.

"I'm Darek," he said, extending a hand that was visibly shaking. "And this is Silo. Maybe we should stick together?"

"My name is Vane. You're right," the man replied, adjusting his dark jacket. Vane was in his mid-thirties, with dark hair slicked back and a sharp, guarded look in his hazel eyes. He turned his head, gesturing toward the shadows of the underground platform. "We aren't the only ones."

Darek and Silo looked past him, taking in the scene. Scattered throughout the subterranean concourse were dozens of commuters. A woman clutched a briefcase to her chest like a shield; a man knelt on the tile floor, staring blankly at a shattered smartphone screen; teenagers huddled together near the vending machines, crying silently.

"We need to seal this place off," Vane said, his voice hard, taking charge without waiting for a vote. "They plan to barricade themselves into the Washington Metro to hide out. They try to get others to stay."

The survivors reacted in waves. Because there was always more safety in numbers, a core group rallied around Vane's sense of urgency. Yet the division was immediate and painful: some had family they desperately needed to get back to on the surface and bolted up the stairs despite Vane's warnings; others were almost paralyzed in fear, curled against the concrete columns, unable to move.

"Help me with these turnstiles!" Vane called out.

Darek, Silo, and a handful of others were willing to attempt locking down the fort and game-planning with a group. They dragged heavy metal benches, vending machines, and maintenance gates to block the entrances, wedging iron rebar through the handles. As the final heavy barriers scraped into place, the blinding daylight from above was completely shut out, leaving only the hum of emergency lights.

3: 10 Years Later

Ten years in the dark rewrote everything.

The vaulted concrete tunnels of the Washington Metro, once bustling with commuters, had turned into a tomb of rust and ash. Over a decade, the initial crowd of survivors dwindled until only three remained: Darek, Silo, and Vane.

People had died from starvation. Sickness had swept through the damp air. To stay alive, they had resorted to eating bugs, rats, and mice—anything that moved in the shadow of the tracks. They forged spears and knives out of random things inside the Metro: broken handrails, sharpened signs, and shattered tile shards bound with frayed copper wire.

Now, even those resources were gone. There were only so many rats and mice in that area, and after ten long years, their food was completely exhausted.

"It's today or never," Vane muttered. His hair was long, his face hollowed by hunger, but his hazel eyes still burned with a sharp, bitter edge.

The three decided that they had nothing left to lose. They picked a hole through the heavy barricades they built ten years ago and had maintained and guarded throughout the years.

It was quite out there. The air was still and calm as they stepped through the breach. Throughout the years, they would hear banging noises outside the barricades while on guard, but they had refused to move. They would barely breathe when hearing the deep, guttural, and heavy breaths just on the other side of the walls; proof that the creatures were curious, even if they never quite managed to bust through the walls.

But for the past year, they had not heard a single thing outside.

They took the risk. Climbing up the ruined escalator, they emerged into daylight for the first time in a decade.

The city was in ruins; not one building was left standing. Washington, D.C. was a wasteland of crumbled marble and twisted iron overgrown with coarse yellow grass.

They made their way on foot to the outskirts of the city, heading toward the countryside. Oddly, they didn't run into a single creature. But as the concrete gave way to soil, they found a big, beautiful house standing amidst overgrown fields.

The sight broke a decade of rigid survival posture. Silo jumped and squealed, almost knocking Darek over as she jumped onto his back. The men were smiling from ear to ear. Silo jumped down and grabbed Darek's hand, pulling him along with her as she ran to the house, her frizzy blonde hair catching the afternoon sun.

Vane walked slowly behind them, his hand tight on his makeshift spear, remaining cautious.

4: Maren and Rhea

The porch boards creaked beneath their boots. Before Darek could knock, the front door swung wide.

A man with grey hair pulled the front door open with a shotgun pointed directly at the three of them as soon as they stepped onto the porch. His face was deeply lined, his grey eyes weary and fierce.

They all held their hands up cautiously. They made a mistake thinking they were safe when they got closer to the house, because they had all dropped their weapons about two hundred yards back in the field, overwhelmed by the sight of civilization.

"What do you want?" asked the older man, his voice like grinding stones.

Vane spoke up, stepping slightly in front of Silo. "Hey man, take it easy. We have been trapped in the Metro since the invasion. We just got out and made our way to the countryside when we saw this house. We are just looking for shelter. Maybe some water and maybe a bite if you have it to spare."

The older man smiles, though his grip on the stock didn't loosen. "What makes you think I care what you're looking for?"

Just then, a teenage girl appears behind him. She had grey eyes, soft, frizzy brunette hair falling to her shoulders, and a quiet grace despite her patched clothes. "Dad, we have enough. Let's help him."

The man looks at her and grimaces, his harsh posture softening by an inch. "Fine." He lowers his gun and lets them in.

They walk into the kitchen to see a table full of veggies and loaves of bread. The smell of fresh-baked dough and earthy soil hit Silo like a physical force, bringing tears to her light blue eyes.

5: Grief

"How do you have all this food?" Silo asked, her voice hushed with reverence as she stared at the feast.

Rhea smiled at her. "We have a bunker with a nicely sized greenhouse. We also have a wooden stove in the garage. The cooking is probably more difficult than it should be, but we make do. Over generations, our family has stockpiled for our bunker and has expanded and added to the supplies. Medicine, food, water. Even after 10 years, we still have a huge stockpile, and plenty to share with you three."

Rhea glared at her father when she spoke that last sentence, making it clear she disagreed with his initial hostility.

They all made their introductions to one another and told each other what they had all been through the past 10 years. Sitting around the wooden table, they talked about the people they had lost during the invasion; people dying from starvation or dying of some sickness from eating a rat that wasn't fully cooked.

Maren spoke of the loss of his wife the day of the invasion. His wife had cancer and passed a couple of hours before the first of the explosions. They were at home that day luckily, so when he turned on the news, he knew he had to get 7-year-old Rhea to safety. They spent the first 7 years inside that bunker before rebuilding above ground.

Maren’s eyes softened as he looked at Rhea. The bitterness that guarded his face faded into a quiet, enduring devotion.

6: Brand New Life, 2 Years Later

Life for these five people is now beautiful.

Two years in the valley transformed the overgrown homestead into a thriving sanctuary. Silo found flower seeds in the bunker, and with Darek's help, has created the most gorgeous garden of lilies and tulips that frames the front porch in brilliant shades of pink and gold. Silo is also pregnant with her first child; Darek is such a reliable man, and she knows he will be an amazing father.

Maren and Vane have become like brothers. The shared weight of keeping their small family alive forged an unbreakable bond, and there is nothing they wouldn't do for one another. Rhea has even started calling him Uncle Vane.

Rhea has found a love interest. This girl her age wandered into the yard last year; she was dying from dehydration when Rhea found her and carried her inside. When that girl with long, wavy, brunette hair finally opened her big, beautiful brown eyes, it was over for Rhea. She would do anything to see her smile.

The threat in the sky had faded into memory, replaced by the steady rhythm of planting, harvesting, and quiet evenings on the porch. Other people have wandered into their lives over time, and they have made room for every one of them.

I do not own the rights to this photo. Pexels