“Damn,” the second man whistled and he shook his head.

The man crouched down by Lucy grimaced and then stood. “Does Scott know?”

“Not yet,” Gordy answered. “I want her examined first…make sure she’s out of the woods before we give him hope.”

Lucy coughed and looked at him. “Out of the woods?”

The first paramedic looked at her. “Your lungs might still have water in them. There’s still a risk of asphyxiation. Keeping you for observation is just precautionary. We’re all experts here. We’ll take good care of you. You’ll be reunited with your family soon, I promise.”

“Grant,” Lucy said again. She tried to sound forceful, commanding. “I want to see my friend.”

The medic looked to Gordy and Gordy shook his head. The look could have meant anything, but the coldness in Gordy’s eyes as he denied her request without saying a word, made Lucy’s skin crawl.

“He’s part of my family,” Lucy lied. “My dad will want to see him…”

“He’s gone,” Gordy said and he shot her a calm look, his eyes on fire.

“You just said he was fine,” Lucy raised her voice and inside the tank the noise amplified, the medic closest to her cringed. “Take me to him!”

“She’s delusional. Sedate her,” Gordy instructed to the man by her side. Lucy shook her head and tried to scoot away.

“Is that necessary?” the man asked, but he seemed to regret the challenge the moment it left his lips. “Whatever you say, boss.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a capped needle; he uncapped it in a swift move, the plastic skittering across the floor and before Lucy could scamper away, he held her by the upper arm and stabbed the needle into the fleshiness of her bicep. “Just a prick. Easy now.”

Lucy felt instantly sleepy and her body swayed and dipped.

“Mom. Grant,” Lucy called. Her voice sounded hollow, like a rattle in her brain. She tried to form more words of protest, but they disappeared into the void. “Mom—” she said again, imagining her mother’s face swimming in front her before she gave in to the darkness.

Her head pounded with a pulsating headache that radiated behind her left eye. She tried to bring her hand up to rub her eye socket and put pressure on the pain, but her hands were held into place with metal rings—she tugged and pulled, but her body was trapped against the cool hospital bed. Then her eyes caught sight of the man beside her bed; he was watching her with a plastered-on grin, his cool blue eyes—the same shade as Gordy and Blair’s—followed her movements with calculating fascination.

“Hello,” he said in a booming, cheerful-infused, voice. “You’re awake. Good, good.”

“Unlock me,” Lucy said and she cringed. Her throat still ached, her chest still pounded with the desire to cough. Her words eked out in barely a squeak.

“Let’s keep your feet locked in, shall we? But don’t you worry, little one, you won’t be here long. I’ve been given positive information about your recovery.” As he spoke, he pulled out keys from his pocket and drew the sheet back around the first cuff and then the second, popping her wrists free of the confines. “There you are. Better?”

Lucy nodded, annoyed that her ankles kept hitting the metal rings—a reminder that, once again, she was someone’s prisoner. Her breath caught and she felt her heart pound; she grew light-headed.

“Who are you?” Lucy asked, closing her eyes to control her symptoms. “Gordy and Blair’s dad? You look like you could be their grandfather.”

The man laughed, raising his chin to the ceiling and slapping his hand against his knee. “You’re a quick one. Funny too.” He pointed at her. “Of course you are. The Kings. Salt of the earth. Yes, I’m mighty glad to hear you arrived here safe and sound. You should know that your parents were out of their minds with worry.”

“Where are they?”

“I know you’re eager to see them.”

“They don’t know I’m here yet, do they?” Lucy placed her hands over her eyes and she prayed for a reprieve from the growing ache.

“No,” the man said and he frowned. “Some rules were broken, you see. Big rules. Before I invite your parents to see you again, well, we need to chat. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but there are rules.”

“What’s your name?” Lucy continued to press her eyes closed.

“I’m Huck Truman. You’re in my shelter.  My dome, I’ve liked to call it. Now we just say that it’s the System. ”

“A system?”

“The System,” he corrected. “But it’s only temporary. I have no desire to keep everyone living underground…seems like such a dreadful way to spend my twilight years. I like sun and air and green just as much as the next person.”

“What is this place then? Like a giant doomsday shelter?”

“Yes,” Huck nodded and he chuckled again. “That is exactly what it is. A giant shelter…totally self-sustainable, if needed, for over a decade. But we won’t need it that long…months, a year maybe, at most.”

Lucy didn’t speak. She opened her eyes and looked at him and he glowed as he mentioned the intricacies of her new home, as he said. A small indoor park with faux-sun; a movie theater; a restaurant. Lucy’s headache clouded her ability to process the details; what exactly had she stumbled upon in the middle of Nebraska?

“Like a resort,” he said. “It isn’t fair to take people away from the only world they’ve known and then isolate them in darkness, without the comforts of life. That was my vision, you see. My greatest accomplishment to date is the System. And I know that you will come to understand our cause in time; I recognize that this may seem new to you. But the one thing I knew, when I set out to change the world, was that the people we chose to survive would never want for the basics and would always have access to luxuries. You’ll find everything you want here, Lucy. And if we have forgotten something, then you have a direct line.” He pointed to himself with a wink.

“I want to see my family,” Lucy said again. She felt like a broken-record. She resisted the urge to reach out and grab Huck’s white hair and pull it off his head. Her desire to do physical damage to something was gaining by the second and he was the only thing within reach.

“Let me tell you a story,” Huck shifted in the plastic seat by her bed and grimaced as he adjusted his legs and leaned back, exhaling.

“Does the story end with you taking me to my family?” Lucy asked and she lifted her hips off of the bed and adjusted her upper body hoping to find comfort.

“Oh, little Lucy,” Huck’s eyes glistened and he reached out to her and patted her hand. His hands were frigid on top of hers and she instinctually yanked her own hand back. “You remind me of my daughter.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “The girl who tried to kill me? I don’t mean to be a pain…but no. I can already tell you that we don’t have anything in common.”

“No, no,” Huck shook his head and crossed his arms over his body. “I had another daughter. She has since passed on.”

Lucy resisted the urge to say she was sorry. She was not unaware that somehow this man was responsible, in some capacity, for the annihilation of the human race. His own loss seemed insignificant and Lucy closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see his hurt radiating back out at her, pulling at her sympathies, begging her to just see him as an elderly man with a dead daughter, and not a monster.

She was desperate for her father.

Her questions were mounting.

Huck continued without her response. “She was your age. Just turned eighteen.”

Clamping her mouth shut, Lucy bit her cheeks, and focused on her pain. She did not want to listen to his story, did not want to give him an audience for his blatant pandering.

“There are so many tragic ways to die. That is what the world taught me. It is an important lesson that caused me much pain. The tragic ways in which we can lose a loved one…”