The pages of the book blur together as I stare at them for the tenth time.
I'm sitting cross-legged on the thin mattress of my bunk bed, the book resting in my lap, my back leaning against the cold concrete wall of the bunker. A dim yellow light flickers above me, making the shadows dance across the ceiling.
I haven't read a single word in the last ten minutes.
It's impossible to focus.
Voices fill the room.
Our sleeping quarters are one of the largest rooms in the bunker, but even that isn't enough space for the number of people living here. Metal bunk beds are lined up in rows from one side of the room to the other—three levels high in some places where space was tight. Thin mattresses, worn blankets, and small bags of personal belongings mark each person's territory.
Privacy doesn't exist here.
About one hundred and twenty people live in this bunker beneath Haven Creek. At least... that was the number last week.
The number changes a lot.
Sometimes it goes up when new survivors find us.
Sometimes it goes down when people go outside the walls and never come back.
Tonight, the room is loud.
Someone is laughing near the far wall. Two people are arguing quietly about weapon maintenance. A group of teenagers on the lower bunks are whispering like they're sharing secrets even though everyone can hear them anyway.
Across from me, Dylan is snoring loud enough to wake the dead—which, considering the current state of the world, is probably not the best expression to use.
I sigh and glance back down at my book.
It's an old paperback novel someone found during a supply run months ago. The cover is faded and half torn off, but the story is supposed to be about a detective solving mysteries in a big city.
A big city that still had electricity. And restaurants. And people who worried about normal things.
I flip the page.
Then immediately lose my place again when someone shouts across the room.
"Hey! That's my blanket!"
I press my fingers to my forehead.
Five years of surviving the apocalypse and somehow people still argue over blankets.
Just as I'm about to give up on reading altogether, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
"Gem."
I look up.
Annelise is weaving through the narrow path between the bunk beds toward me.
Her dark hair is tied into a messy ponytail and she's wearing the same combat jacket she's had for two years now. One sleeve is patched with three different fabrics where it tore during missions outside the walls.
She stops beside my bunk and leans her elbow against the metal frame.
"You look like you're trying to read calculus," she says, glancing at my book.
"I might as well be," I mutter. "I've read the same paragraph twelve times."
Annelise smirks.
"Yeah, good luck with that in here."
She gestures around the crowded room.
The chatter hasn't died down at all. If anything, it's getting louder as more people return from evening patrol and settle into their bunks.
I close the book with a soft thud.
"Did you need something?" I ask.
Annelise looks around quickly, then leans closer like she's about to share classified military secrets.
"I heard something."
That immediately catches my attention.
"What kind of something?"
Her voice drops even lower.
"New people."
I blink.
"New people?"
She nods.
"Word is they're coming in tonight. Scouts found them outside the east perimeter."
I straighten up a little.
That's not something that happens often.
Survivors still exist out there—we know that—but finding them is rare. Most of the time, people either die before reaching a settlement or they get picked up by other bases first.
"How many?" I ask.
Annelise shrugs.
"No idea. I only heard part of the conversation. But apparently the patrol team escorted them back."
I glance toward the bunker door at the far end of the room.
Nothing unusual there. Just the same heavy steel entrance guarded by two armed sentries.
Still...
New people.
That means new stories.
New skills.
Or new problems.
"Did they say where they came from?" I ask.
"Nope."
Annelise swings herself up onto the empty bunk beneath mine and stretches her legs out.
"But you know how this place is," she says. "Give it twenty minutes and the entire bunker will have a different version of the story."
She's not wrong.
Rumors travel through the bunker faster than infection did back in 2025.
A group of kids nearby suddenly burst into laughter, followed by someone shushing them aggressively.
I lean over the edge of my bunk.
"Who told you?"
"Marcus."
"That explains the secrecy."
Marcus is one of the outer wall scouts. If he's the source, the information is probably reliable.
Which means the new arrivals are likely already inside the perimeter.
My mind starts racing with possibilities.
Families?
Soldiers?
Travelers?
Or people running from something worse than the zombies.
It happens sometimes. Not all survivors out there are friendly.
Annelise watches my expression carefully.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The overthinking thing."
"I'm not overthinking."
"You absolutely are."
I sigh.
Maybe she's right.
Still, curiosity is a powerful thing in a world where every day looks the same.
Life inside the bunker follows strict routines.
Wake up. Train. Patrol the walls. Eat rationed meals. Maintain weapons. Plan supply runs.
Repeat.
The only real excitement comes from missions outside the walls—or unexpected arrivals.
"So what do you think they're like?" Annelise asks.
I shrug.
"Probably tired. Hungry. Terrified."
"Fair."
A few bunks away, someone suddenly jumps down from the top bed and lands with a loud thud.
The entire row of beds rattles.
"Careful!" someone snaps.
"Sorry!"
I glance around the room.
For a moment, I really notice it.
All these people.
A hundred and something survivors crammed into an underground bunker beneath a ruined town.
Five years ago we all lived normal lives.
Now we share sleeping quarters like soldiers in a war that never ends.
Sometimes I wonder how many of us will still be here in another five years.
"Hey," Annelise says suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"What if they're fighters?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"Everyone's a fighter now."
"Yeah, but I mean trained fighters."
That gets my attention.
Extra fighters would mean stronger patrol teams. Safer supply runs. A better chance of pushing the zombies farther away from Haven Creek.
We've been slowly reclaiming territory for years, but it's dangerous work.
Every extra pair of skilled hands matters.
"Maybe," I say.
Annelise grins.
"Imagine if they're from some huge survivor convoy or something."
"That's optimistic."
"Optimism is healthy."
"In moderation."
She laughs quietly.
For a moment, the noise in the room fades into the background.
I glance down at the closed book in my lap.
Reading used to be one of my favorite things before the apocalypse. Back when stories about danger and survival were just fiction.
Now the world outside these walls is worse than any horror novel ever written.
And tomorrow morning, I'll be stepping right back into it.
Because that's the reality of life here.
Everyone eventually takes their turn outside.
Clearing buildings.
Scavenging supplies.
Killing the monsters that used to be people.
My stomach tightens slightly at the thought.
Not from fear.
Just from memory.
Annelise suddenly sits up straighter.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Do you hear that?"
I pause.
At first, all I hear is the same background chatter of the bunker.
Then—
A heavy metallic sound echoes through the hallway outside the sleeping quarters.
The unmistakable noise of the main bunker door opening.
Conversations around the room start to quiet down.
People glance toward the entrance.
Another metallic clang follows.
Footsteps.
Multiple sets.
Annelise looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Well," she whispers.
"Looks like the rumor was true."
I slide my book aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bunk.
Curiosity suddenly replaces the exhaustion in my body.
Around us, more people are sitting up or climbing down from their beds.
Even Dylan stops snoring.
The bunker door creaks open slowly.
Cold night air spills into the room.
And behind the guards standing at the entrance...
Silhouettes appear in the dim hallway light.
The new survivors have arrived.
And something tells me...
Life inside Haven Creek's bunker is about to change.