Catherine Rose Davis

“Nothing grows underground, petal,” said Mary.

She was right. Ten years later the sunflowers hadn’t grown and neither had Leesa.

Leesa still sat behind the oxygen pumps. She was the only person small enough to squeeze into that narrow space. Sound echoed there. Voices travelled along the damp green walls and bounced off the steel cylinders. Leesa listened to the grown-ups talk about supplies. She often heard the words, “running out”. Leesa said she wished she could run out.

“But where would you run to?” said Mary.

They sat on the stone chairs in the dining hall. Mary unsealed a package of powdered food and emptied it into two bowls.

“Just out,” said Leesa.

Mary smiled as she poured water over the food. “And get poisoned?” she said. She put a bowl in front of Leesa.

Leesa took a spoonful of the sludgy food. “What is this?” she said.

“What did we have yesterday?” said Mary.

“Fish pie,” said Leesa.

“Then that’s roast chicken.”

“Good,” said Leesa. All powdered food was flavourless. Leesa couldn’t remember what roast chicken tasted like.

“Is the sun still there?” said Leesa.

Mary shrugged.

After dinner Leesa went to the oxygen pumps. There was no sound there now apart from the hiss and whirr of the pumps. Quiet made Leesa think of open spaces and blue skies. She didn’t know if that was a dream or a memory. She pressed her face over the area where she had planted the sunflower seeds and breathed in the soft scent of soil. She imagined the seeds sprouting suns. If she concentrated hard she could almost feel warm. Leesa fell asleep and dreamt of silence and nothing.

She was woken by Mary’s voice. It was high pitched and quick. The sound trembled. Leesa hadn’t heard Mary speak like that since before.

“We’ll die out there,” said Mary.

“Maybe,” said another voice. It was a man’s voice, a voice as strong as destruction.

“We’re running out of food,” he said, “ and the oxygen pumps, they won’t last much longer.”

Leesa put her hands on the oxygen pumps. They felt as solid as forever.

She heard footsteps and then the world was quiet again.

She found Mary later in the dining hall. She was counting packages of powdered food. Her face reminded Leesa of people from before, red and creased.

“Guess what,” said Mary when she saw Leesa, “you’re going to get what you’ve always wanted.” She smiled so Leesa could see her gums, but she was looking at the food again.

Leesa moved her foot in a circle on the rough floor.

“We’re going outside,” said Mary.

“When?” said Leesa.

“Soon,” said Mary, “when we’ve eaten all the food.”

Leesa stared at the packages.

“It won’t be like before, you know,” said Mary. She laughed so her voice sounded like distant gunfire. “No armies. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Will there be other people?” said Leesa.

Mary bit her lip. “Maybe,” she said.

“Oh,” said Leesa.

Mary looked up. “There’s bound to be, we can’t be the only ones, can we?”

“I suppose not,” said Leesa. She slumped on a chair.

“But that’s a good thing,” said Mary.

“Will we die?” said Leesa.

“We’ll definitely die if we stay here,” said Mary. “Look, only enough food for a few more meals each.” She piled the packages up on the table. Sometimes they fell.

“What if we eat really slowly?”

“Ha ha,” said Mary. She turned quickly away.

For the next while Leesa tried to avoid eating. She hid behind the oxygen pumps. She could hear whispers of before there now. The word “afraid.” Sometimes people talked about the future. Leesa didn’t know what that was. It sounded big, like a nuclear bomb. She dug her toes into the soil and waited for a sun to grow. However slowly Leesa ate, the food supplies still went down.

They gathered by the exit rock. Leesa remembered when it was put into place. Six men had pushed and lifted then they had sat down, panting. “There, we’ll be safe now,” someone had said.

Mary took Leesa’s hand now. Her skin was cold. The same men who had placed the rock now pushed to move it. They were thinner than they were before.

Gradually on one side of the rock something that hurt Leesa’s eyes appeared.

“That’s sunlight,” said Mary.

“It hurts,” said Leesa.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Mary.

Leesa felt a sickness in her head as more sunlight was exposed.

“Is this dying?” she said to Mary.

“No,” said Mary, “this is living again.” She smiled.

Leesa let go of Mary’s hand. She ran back into the tunnels, back to the oxygen pumps. She heard footsteps and Mary’s voice calling her name.

“Leave her,” said someone else. “She’ll have to come out soon.”

“Leesa,” said Mary.

Leesa lay on the soil and listened to the voices become quieter and then disappear. The whirr of the oxygen pumps slowed and faded. Darkness covered Leesa’s face like long fingers. She tried to brush them away. Just before the world went black she thought she saw green shoots sprouting through the soil.