‘Kill Everything That Moves’ Part 4

Now life and the world had come to an end. Humanity did not appreciate the world it had.

Oca 3, 2025

The Bunker

The world had ended. Humanity had failed to appreciate the gift of their planet until it was ripped away.

The helicopter was military. Thank God, I thought. Survivors exist. They came for us.

They hauled us inside, and we lurched into the sky. The rotors fought against the dust-choked air, barely clearing a path. Below, the earth was a smothered corpse. No one spoke. The only question hanging in the cabin:

What happened?

I tried to ask a soldier—”Where are we going?”—but his visor remained fixed ahead. Silence.

Thirty minutes later, we descended onto a barren field. Why here? I nearly demanded, until a barked order cut me off:

“Welcome to the bunker. Move fast.”

Of course. In this new hell, only the underground could still be called safe.

The helicopter lifted away, abandoning us to armed escorts who herded us downward. The bunker was chaos—crying families, shell-shocked survivors, the stench of sweat and antiseptic. A doctor in a stained lab coat approached:

“Decontamination first.”

We didn’t argue. Avva, Eva, Olive, and I were scrubbed raw, given scratchy uniforms, and shoved into a mess hall. The space was vast but claustrophobic, every face etched with the same unanswered question:

What happened?

I spotted an officer—a major—and cornered him. “Tell us the truth.”

“Briefing soon,” he snapped. “We’re still retrieving people. Wait.”

I relayed the non-answer to Avva and Olive. Around us, murmurs crescendoed into shouts. A child wailed. The major finally slammed his fist on a table:

“Enough! You’ll get answers in two hours.”

But patience had already bled out.

Because the truth was in the details:

The soldiers’ gloves were welded to their rifles.

The “doctors” avoided direct touch, scanning us with devices that beeped at Eva longer than the rest.

And through a half-open door, I saw a screen flicker with a map—red zones spreading like bloodstains.

This wasn’t a rescue.

It was a quarantine.