Travis’s muscular arms squeeze my waist as they wrap around from behind me. The early morning coolness that has chilled his body raise the hairs on the back of my neck, sending a chill down my spine. His warm breath hits my ear as he whispers, “Rhett’s body is in pieces.”
“I know,” I reply quietly. Ty is only a few short yards away and I don’t want him to hear. “I saw it this morning from the kitchen window when I was grabbing edibles from the pantry.” I trail off as the vision of his half gnawed on head staring at me from the lawn flashes through my mind.
“I’m aware that we weren’t that close to Rhett, but he was a good guy. He didn’t deserve that.”
“I know.”
“He was brave. He could’ve been helpful.” Travis pulls himself away from me and looks at Ty who is playing with Cano in our old living room.
“It’s weird, being here.” I say under my breath.
“It’s been a long six months.” He agrees softly.
As I stare at the fifty-five-inch flat screen hanging on the wall I can’t help but smile. The day we got our TV I had told Travis that we didn’t need a new one. A couple hours later, he came walking in carrying that huge black box. We argued for hours and in the end it stayed. In hindsight it was such a materialistic thing to fight about. Nowadays our fights revolve around staying alive.
“Isabelle, can you go check on Billy? Make sure he’s okay down there.”
The butcher block countertop has been left open, propped up by the extendable rod. On the side of the counter, the secret is wide open - revealing a small staircase.
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
My boots echo in the dark tunnel with every step I take towards the bunker. As I move closer to the steel door left ajar, the generator rumbles. Underneath the noise is the faint sound of Billy’s voice. He sounds like he’s on the radio. I can’t make out what he’s saying and at first it seems like static is his only response, but when I step into the doorway there’s something else. Someone else. Beneath the static is another man’s voice. I walk closer, but can barely make out what he’s saying. My mind lingers on a word I can’t fully understand. Indis? No… that can’t be right.
“Did you get in contact with somebody?” I shout over the noise.
His scrawny body jolts in surprise. “You scared me.”
“Did you?”
“I don’t know,” he says before pulling the black microphone up to his thin lips. As his hands squeezes in the button on the side he says, “What is your location, I repeat what is your location?”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean, I don’t know. He’s speaking a language that I can’t understand.”
“Here, let me see.” I reply reaching my hand out for the microphone.
He hesitates for a couple seconds before handing it over to me. “Alright, good luck.”
“Sh.” I lean an ear closer to the speaker. There’s a man’s voice speaking in another language. One I recognize from my two years of college. I pull the microphone up to my mouth and squeeze the side button.
“Salve. Loquerisne anglice?” I say loudly.
The voice under the static stops completely at the sound of my voice. As I lean in closer to the speaker my hair brushes past my shoulder. I listen quietly to the radio for a few seconds. The only response is static.
I try again, “Salve.”
Static.
“Wha- What was that? What did you say?” Billy stammers. He frantically grabs the microphone from my hand.
“They were speaking Latin, Billy. So I greeted them in Latin and asked if they speak English.” I reply as I turn away. I need to tell Travis what I heard over the radio. When I step towards the tunnel, he grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Wait. Could you understand what they were saying?” His voice is unsteady. Even though I don’t turn around I can sense his big brown eyes watching me. His hand slips off my arm as he waits for an answer.
“Yes. But it doesn’t make any sense for survivors to be saying what they were saying.”