500: An Anthology of Short Stories

The ground quaked once again, sending showers of soil to fall softly upon my head and shoulders. I nervously eyed the roof of the underground bunker, wanting earnestly for it to hold.

“You know I trust that you’re good at your craft, Steven, but are you certain you shored up the roof properly? It won’t cave in on top of us under the relentless barrage of bombs, will it?” I asked my batch brother who instantly took offence.

“You think my workmanship is weak?” Steven asked before he sat down on the single cot to sulk.

As I was about to respond, both of us froze when we heard a sound different to the usual explosions, screaming air raid sirens, or the occasional wailing of a dying enemy. The rapacious enemy’s death cries were the worst of the noise that had been assaulting us for the past two weeks, until we heard the distinct dragging of a heavy chain above us.

“What’s happening, Marcus?” Steven asked fearfully. My retarded brother was a skilled builder, but his mental development had been arrested at age 11. He had jumped up in fright, clinging painfully to one of my appendages.

“It sounds like somebody’s linking a heavy chain through the bunker door,” I answered him. “I’m not sure of the door’s limitations; do you think whoever is up there can wrench the door open?” I asked my idiot brother, revealing just how stressed I was.

“Marcus, what does ‘wrench’ mean?” Steven asked predictably.

“Never mind,” I said, “move to the back wall and stay there,” I instructed him.

“Okay, but what if the door is pulled open?” he asked, not realizing the irony in his use of the word ‘pulled’.

“It’s fine, Steven. I doubt they can break open the door,” I assured him. “Just stay quietly at the back,” I said while I armed myself.

We had brought a number of weapons into the bunker with us. I loaded the Atomizer with six charges of atom splitting cartridges, just to be sure I wouldn’t miss whoever was trying to break into our sanctuary. The rattling of the chain continued, sounding more aggressive with each passing minute. My hearts raced as I waited with bated breath to see if the trapdoor would prevail or fail.

Abruptly, the noises up above halted. Absolute silence reigned; even the constant background noise of war had ceased. I was amazed to see brightness all along the edges of the door, as if someone above were shining a powerful spotlight on the door. In a world that had been plunged into utter darkness since the invasion began two years ago, any light was glorious. This brilliance though was exquisite. Then the door dissolved into a million shards.

Both Steven and I screamed in terror, grabbing hold of each other in our fright.

“Kill them!” someone ordered before a laser beam split Steven neatly in two.

Far too late I regretted that we had ever invaded this accursed planet.