Chapter 13 - Cousins The icy gusts of the storm outside howled through the thick metal doors of the bunker, making me shiver as I bent over the tracked ATV. My hands were covered in grease and dirt from taking it apart and putting it back together again. Uncle Paul had purchased it years ago for winter camping, but never did any maintenance on it. The instruction manual lay open on the workbench, surrounded by a mess of tools and scattered parts. It was like a giant puzzle, with each step requiring precise steps to follow. I was also installing the sides, roof, and a heater unit. My eyes darted towards the thick blast doors that sealed off the entrance to the bunker. My heart raced as I thought about the two kids out there huddled inside their cave, bracing against the howling wind and driving snow. They had stocked up on firewood, but it must have dwindled over the past month of endless storms. And with no way to gather more in these brutal conditions, they were surely running low. Food wasn't a concern yet - I had been delivering meals to them daily for three months before the incident with the boy and his sniper rifle. But even with their hidden reserves, it wouldn't last forever. I had tried to offer them food and shelter, but they always hid from me. They couldn't be trusted - I had seen their true nature when they ambushed me for my bunker. Now, as they huddled outside in the freezing storm, I wondered what I would do if they begged to come inside. I couldn’t just lock them up in a room and shove food under the door, but I’d have to guard them constantly. The thought made my heart ache with guilt and fear. I didn't want to be responsible for anyone else dying. I slammed the wrench I was holding down on the worktable in frustration. I knew I had to go out and retrieve them - it's why I was winterizing the ATV in the first place. The wind seemed to increase beyond the doors as I bundled up in layers of thermal clothing, pulling on insulated boots, and a heavy parka. My lungs burned as soon as I opened the big metal doors of the bunker, a reminder of just how unforgiving the cold could be. I ran back to the ATV, its engine already purring with warmth. Climbing inside, I cranked up the heater, but it still felt like an icebox. I pulled the ATV out of the garage, then sealed the bunker doors shut behind me before revving up the ATV and setting off into the blizzard. The ATV jolted and skidded over the frozen terrain as I navigated down the steep ravine to their camp. My heart raced, hoping that the vehicle would make it back up the rugged slope later. As I approached their camp, I noticed something was different - they hadn't bothered to hide or flee upon hearing my approach. Pulling up in front of their hand-dug cave, I dismounted and cautiously approached on foot. Through the cracks in the pile of wood serving as a barrier, I could see the barrel of a rifle pointed directly at me. Slowly, I reached out and gently nudged the barrel to one side before gripping it firmly with my hand. "Let go of the rifle," I said, my voice steady. "You abandoned us," replied a girl's voice, filled with anger and hurt. "You tried to kill me," I said, my voice growing louder. I heard coughing coming from inside the small cave they were in. "I didn't know he was going to do that," the girl said, her voice now tinged with fear. "I tried to tell you we were sorry." So it was the girl who had banged on the front door of my bunker last month after the incident. My heart softened slightly as I looked at her now, her face streaked with dirt and tears. "Is your brother sick?" I asked. "Yes," she sobbed, "he's been coughing real bad and won't wake up." "Let go of the rifle," I said firmly, "I'm not going to steal it. I just want to set it aside so there aren't any accidents." I could feel her fingers loosening their grip on the cold metal of the rifle, and I gently pried it from her hands. With a quick motion, I ejected the bullets onto the ground and set the weapon aside. The girl scrambled to grab the precious ammunition before it rolled away, carefully collecting each bullet as if it were a precious gem. As I watched her, I couldn't help but think about the significance of the rifle. It was more than just a weapon - it was their lifeline in this post-apocalyptic world. I imagined the boy sitting under a Christmas tree, unwrapping a long box to reveal this very same rifle. His parents couldn't have known that it would one day be the only thing keeping their children alive amidst the chaos and destruction. Pain seared through my chest, as if a hammer had smashed into my heart. I could practically hear it cracking like glass as it shattered. Despite having a bunker that could sustain dozens for years, I had isolated myself from the world like a scared child hiding under the covers. How many more survivors were out there, huddled in basements or scavenging in the ruins of their former homes? And here I was, wallowing in self-pity while humanity teetered on the brink of extinction. I had the means to make a difference, but all I did was cower in my bunker and complain about my misfortunes. The weight of guilt settled on me like a heavy cloak, threatening to crush me under its burden. I pulled the rest of the wood out of the way. The boy was in his sleeping bag, his eyes closed and his face pale. I grabbed the sleeping bag and pulled him out of the tiny cave that had kept them alive for months. “Grab everything you want to keep and shove it into your sleeping bag,” I told the girl. I lifted the boy up and carried him to the ATV. When I went back to check on the girl, she had all their possessions inside her sleeping bag. I noticed the rifle wasn’t lying on the ground anymore. It was probably inside the sleeping bag, she wasn’t going to leave it behind. I grabbed the sleeping bag and carried it to the ATV. “Get in the back with your brother, it’s going to be a bumpy ride getting out of here. You keep him from sliding around and getting hurt.” As I wrestled the ATV out of the ravine, I started thinking about what medical treatment the boy would need. Probably antibiotics. I would have to go through all my notes from the first aid classes my dad had given me. I’d already buried seven people since the day the world ended, I wasn’t going to bury any more. A week later the boy, Jack, glared at me from his bed in the hospital ward. I think it was his hobby. His eyes didn’t say hate, but more like, “I don’t like you, go away.” I didn’t care, let him glare. I sat at my desk reading medical books and adding notes to my pile of notebooks. I’d already decided I was going to go out and try to find people to bring to the bunker. The highest priority would be for a doctor, and a dentist. Dad had been a paramedic with the Search and Rescue team and had taught me as much as at least an EMT, but we’d need a real doctor. “I have to pee,” Jack groaned, interrupting my thoughts as he shifted restlessly in his hospital bed. With a resigned sigh, I reached for the urine bottle and tossed it to him. “Very funny,” he retorted. “I’m not using that thing again.” Ignoring his complaint, I reminded him he was allowed to get up to use the bathroom. Jack scowled at me. “You said I had to stay in bed.” I waved a hand absently. “That was then, this is now. Your almost ready to leave the hospital.” Jack grumbled but swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As he headed towards the bathroom, he shot me a glare. “I’m going to sue you for this, you’re not even a real doctor.” I rolled my eyes. "Oh no, not my medical career." "Do you even know anything about being a doctor?" I shrugged with a grin. "You're still alive, aren't you? Now go pee before you explode." Jack slammed the door to the bathroom, muttering something under his breath. His sister, Alex, sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by medical books she had borrowed from the pile next to my desk. "Are you interested in medicine?" I asked. Alex grinned, her hazel eyes sparkling with intelligence. "My mom named me after the Great Library of Alexandria. She always said I had a bright future ahead of me and would cure cancer one day." I leaned back in my chair, eying Jack's bed in front of my desk. "Is Jack named after something too?" Alex closed the book she was reading and shifted her position to see me better. "Dad loved the Percy Jackson series when he was younger, but Mom wouldn't let him name Jack 'Percy' so they compromised on Jackson." I pointed at the book in her arms. "There are more interesting books in the bunker library, but it's a disaster zone. I tried organizing it once but gave up after five boxes." "Can I see it?" Alex asked eagerly. I hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, let's go. I'd like to see if Jack will behave without me hovering over him." As soon as Alex spotted the grandiose library, she let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement and darted inside, disappearing down one of the aisles, never to be seen again. Rumor has it that on cold winter nights, if you listen closely enough, you can still hear the faint sound of pages turning from her private corner of the library. And although that may be an exaggeration, it's not far from the truth - Alex quickly claimed the library as her own personal kingdom. Within just a few hours, she had already begun to organize stacks of books into categories and subcategories. I shook my head in amazement at her efficiency and knew that this library would finally see some order after decades of neglect. Leaving Alex to her bookish bliss, I made my way back to my hospital ward. However, upon arriving at my desk, I noticed that my notebooks were missing. A quick glance around the room revealed them neatly tucked under Jack's bed, hidden away under a blanket. I also noticed a broken toilet handle in the center of my desk. "What happened?" I inquired curiously. “The toilet handle broke,” he said, hesitantly. I frowned. “Accidents happen, but we have to be very careful. We have spare parts for everything, mostly, but when they run out, there will never be another of whatever broke.” The general rule was that when we bought something for the bunker, we also bought 30 years of replacements, and the spare parts for it. Which is where so much of our money had disappeared. It added up after a while. The bunker was a money pit. If we had twenty toilets in the bunker, and each toilet lasts around ten years each, it meant we needed at least sixty spare toilets, and all the possible spare parts for those toilets in storage. The real problem was that nobody had ever kept a catalog of where everything was stored. You could spend days searching for something. It was like a massive underground warehouse without the benefit of any marked aisles to tell you where to even start looking. “I’m tired of laying in bed, let’s go find the spare part and fix it,” said Jack. I hesitated for a moment, but I was going to release him in the morning anyway. “Alright then, if you’ve got the energy to hide my notebooks, you’ve got the energy to help me find another handle.” Jack was up and out of bed in a flash. “I’m ready!” I looked down at his bare feet. “Maybe put some shoes on. If you start running around the mine without shoes, the sharp rocks down there will cut your feet to shreds.” Jack wanted to check on his sister before we headed into the mine. We went to the game room and I showed him the library. He barely glanced inside as he walked past the arched doors and diverted towards my favorite gaming chair. I was right behind him, thinking he would be excited to see we had video games. He picked up my controller, then pulled his arm back to throw the controller at the big screen television. I caught his arm in time, and took the controller from him. He spun around to face me, and this time there was hate in his eyes. “We were freezing while you were cozy in here playing video games?” Jack yelled, his voice cracking from anger and fear. His sister, Alex, stormed out of the library and interrupted, her cheeks flushed with frustration. “Stop it, Jack!” she shouted. “He wasn't trying to hurt us, he was just trying to help.” Jack scoffed. “Help? By giving us scraps from his dinner table like we're dogs?” “It wasn't scraps, it was hot food,” Alex shot back. “And we wouldn't have been starving if you hadn't made us hide from him all this time.” “We had to hide to stay alive,” Jack argued. “You know that, and the food could have been poisoned.” “He wasn't trying to kill us, Jack,” Alex said firmly. “He brought us MRE's too - sealed packages that couldn't have been poisoned even if he wanted to.” The realization dawned on me then. They thought I might poison them. I never even considered that they would think that way. “It wasn't a trap,” Alex continued, her voice wavering with emotion. “But even if it was, I was so tired of being cold and hungry all the time. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted it to end, so I ate the stew while you were asleep and hoped it was poisoned.” Jack's anger seemed to deflate a little at her words. “You wanted to…?” he asked quietly. “Yes,” Alex replied, tears stinging her eyes. “I did.” “I don’t want you to die,” said Jack, no longer shouting. “If you would have just knocked on the door and told him who we were, we would never have gone through all that.” Jack hunched his shoulders and glared. “I’m not begging a bunch of stuck-up rich people for anything.” “Oh my god, Jack, stop being stupid.” Alex shoved her brother out of the way and faced me with her head up and shoulders held back. “We’re your cousins.” That surprised me. “Tell me why you think that,” I said. “Mom was into nature,” replied Alex. “She used to bring us up here camping all the time. She taught us how to build a shelter, and find food. Every time we’d pass the mine on the highway up to our normal camping spot, she would tell us the same story.” My eyes went from her, to Jack, and back. “I’m guessing the place I found you is where you used to go camping.” “Yeah, it is. Anyway, Mom said that a long time ago, our great great Grandmother had an affair with a Robinson boy. She got pregnant, and back then getting pregnant if you weren’t married was a big scandal. So, they sent her away until she had the baby, then they were going to make her put it up for adoption, but she ran away before she had the baby. They never saw her again. She lived in the city and was really poor and worked all the time, and eventually her daughter had a daughter, and then…well, you know how it works, Jack and I were born. So, mom always told us how we are related to the famous Robinson’s. She said if we ever got into trouble, we were supposed to come here.” “Do you have any proof?” I asked. Alex lifted a delicate silver chain from around her neck, the clasp worn and tarnished with age. She carefully opened the locket and revealed a faded portrait inside. “This is our great great Grandma Jean,” she said proudly. Curious, I leaned in for a closer look at the photograph of a stern-faced woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe bun. “I've never heard this story before, but if it's true, that would make us third cousins.” “My sister doesn’t lie,” Jack interjected firmly. I turned to Alex. “What was your great great grandmother's last name?” “Johnson,” she replied. Realization dawned on me. “Ah, that explains everything. Sixty or seventy years ago, there was a feud between the Johnson's and the Robinson's. A few people on both sides ended up dead because of it. I don't know how it started, but this could very well have been the reason. The feud never actually ended. I’ve had a few fights with the Johnson boys.” Jack looked uneasy. “A feud?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “We can settle this like men: I'll give you a pistol, we'll stand back to back, walk twenty paces, turn, and fire.” Jack's face went white. “Are you serious?” I held out my hand to Jack. “Or, we can put an end to this feud right now. It's your choice, Jack,” I said calmly. “Don't be stupid,” Alex pleaded with her brother. “Shake his hand.” Jack hesitated for a moment before finally extending his trembling hand. “I'm sorry for trying to ambush you.” I clasped his hand firmly. “Let's not speak of it again, Cousin.”