SELENE

Fourteen months earlier

 

2023.

The year the world ended.

It wasn't like the big bang. It wasn't one massive explosion of epic proportions. It wasn't a single occurrence that was over within the blink of an eye.

Instead, it was an insidious erosion of the Earth's biodiversity—plants, animals, and humans included. It was waiting with excruciating patience as clouds of crimson misted over landscapes—over towns, cities, farms, and communities—and polluted and poisoned everything it could reach. It was observing foreign areas of the world pleading desperately for aid, sitting by as nuclear bombs were dropped on the regions designated as invaded and dead zoned.

It was chaos, panic, hysteria. It was absolute and complete ignorance of what to do to save the human race.

The world didn't simply end in one day. It was a progressive loss filled with screaming, confusion, death, and destruction. It was trust being eroded in a matter of seconds as people did whatever it took to survive. A massacre like no other, where civilization turned against one another in desperation.

One day in late 2023, reports of swarms of red insects first hit the news. They were invading small villages in Africa. Attacking the people who called the land home. And they were relentless. It seemed as though the more they killed, the more that arrived.

It took a few weeks before the governments of the world took it seriously. It wasn't until the insects had begun migrating north, but scientists were finally sent out to study the creatures.

Sanguis Dolor. In Latin, it means blood consumer. The researchers quickly realized that these bugs weren't your simple mosquito. Instead, they were biting humans and feeding on their blood. They were thriving in the heat and with global warming worsening from humans in the 21st century, it was creating a massive problem. Red wings—as we call now them—were evolving to earth's warming temperatures.

It only took two more weeks before the first sightings of infected. Rumour was that the small communities in Africa where the initial reports came out of were likely infected, but since the more developed countries simply didn't care, it went underreported and ignored.

The infected. Humans, bitten by the Sanguis Dolor. That have visible red veins and display behaviours that are violent and unpredictable. They can also be infected by the noxious gas that Red Wings create in the nests they form to mate. This gas is a deterrent, used to protect their offspring and if inhaled by humans, will infect its victim in a more rapid period of time.

From there, the Red Wings spread. They destroyed everything in their path. We were so ignorant to their danger that it was impossible to stop it.

The first sighting of a deathless came two years later. Humans that were long ago infected and with loss of muscle and fat became nothing more than a skeleton, with those infected veins still visibly affixed to their bones. Quick and agile, the only thing that can save a non-infected from being torn limb from limb is the fact that deathless are hard of hearing.

By this point, a selected group of humans were placed into underground bunkers indefinitely. There was no stopping the Red Wings. Research was limited and difficult because of the rate of destruction the insects were exacting. The bunkers were created for that exact purpose, and therefore, had been built to allow the human race to survive for centuries beneath the surface. Away from the danger the Sanguis Dolor inflict.

More than three hundred years ago, my distant ancestors were some of the individuals chosen to live the remainder of their lives in one of the many underground bunkers. Since that day, my family lineage has survived this very way.

I was born in an underground bunker. I have never been outside of it. I will die this way.

It's how it's been for over three centuries for our people.

On my eighteenth birthday—just like everyone else within the walls of the bunker—I took an aptitude test to determine what sort of job I'd be suited to do. The results predicted I'd succeed best doing office work and so that's what I've done for the last six years.

The test can lead to various jobs throughout the bunker. For example, my brother, River, is known as a defender. His job is security. He keeps the bunker and its residents safe from internal and immediate external threats.

There's also the hunters—or huntresses/huntsmen—who physically travel outside the bunker. These survivors search for supplies, report back on new environmental discoveries, and remove any potential threats. Considering the danger involved, they are our strongest and bravest.

Hunters are a relatively knew addition to our job roster. When the bunkers were created more than three centuries ago, they didn't anticipate vault dwellers to have to survive underground for so long. Eventually, we began running low on supplies and new dangers emerged that they couldn't have predicted 300 years ago, therefore, hunters were created to fill that new void.

The need for hunters also proves to me what I've been taught my whole life—that longtime survival outside of the bunker simply isn't possible. It was one of the many things taught to us in school. The old ones—the humans that existed before the invasion of Red Wings—couldn't endure and we wouldn't be able to either, especially considering the state of the world is far worse off now than it was then.

My father is Kellen Jackson, controller of Bunker Zeta—my home. For four generations, my family has ran Bunker Zeta and lead its people. It's because of this that, when my aptitude test results came in, my father decided I'd be best suited to work directly underneath him in reception and other office work.

This is what my days have consisted of for the past few years. I handle paperwork for my father. It was alright at first to feel useful to our community. To be helping my dad with his daily tasks. Dad had convinced me that it was the best position I could've been offered—I was never in any danger, and I had the respect of my people.

However, the years have gone on and I've since grown restless and unfulfilled. The work has grown menial in the time I've been doing it and I've been craving something else.

I haven't quite figured out what that is yet and it's been a source of friction in my mind.

With today being my birthday, these thoughts are weighing extra heavy on my mind. This is another year of life I'm stepping into without feeling like what I'm doing is meaningful. When I read about the old ones—of the people who existed before the invasion—I envy their ability to experience life. To do things I'll never be able to do like travelling on planes, going away to university, and enjoying the outdoors without insurmountable fear.

"Happy birthday, baby," Tess' voice startles me from my thoughts and I spin to find that he's standing right behind me with what appears to be a card. He envelops me in a hug and then shows that he's also had a cupcake made for me.

"Thanks, Tess," I smile as he hands me the card. I open it, reading Happy Birthday, Sel. I love you forever, your Tess scribbled in his chaotic handwriting.

I peek a look at him when he's not paying attention. He's due for a haircut, his once short brown hair now sweeping into his brown eyes. It amuses me watching as he continually exasperatedly pushes the strands out of his vision.

I lean on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips before grabbing the cupcake to take a bite.

"You ready for your party?"

I nod, mouth full of cake.

"You've gotta' get changed, don't you?" He glances down at my simple outfit—slacks and a shirt, the normal thing I wear to work each day. It's not as if we have endless choices when it comes to fashion considering we have limited fabric.

"I do, yeah. I haven't had a chance yet, I was just putting some paperwork away and then I was heading back to my room."

"You're wearing the dress? The one with the flowers?"

I shake my head. "Mel made me a beautiful dress, I think I'll wear it."

He pauses for a moment, simply staring at me. He grabs the remainder of the cupcake he gifted me—roughly a single large bite—and tosses it into his mouth before I can protest. He presses another kiss to my lips, reminding me, "I'd prefer the one with the flowers," before he turns on his heel and he's gone.

I sigh, trying to shove his words to the depths of my mind where I'll hopefully forget about them. I don't like when he does this to me, especially when he knows I'd like to do something a different way because it means something to me.

I gather my things from my desk. The card my father made me, the small box of chocolates my brother River gifted me, and now Tess' card. I ensure my computer is off before leaving my small office space and heading straight for my room.

When I get inside, I stand the cards up on a small shelf on the far side so I'm able to easily view them. I rifle through my closet, trying to choose something to wear.

Melissa has sewn and created many beautiful outfits over my lifetime, but I think this one is her greatest work yet. She's managed to create a flowy dress made of a silken material that I have no clue where she secured it from. It's baby blue—my favourite colour—and comes to roughly mid-calf, exposing my shoulders because it ties up at my nape, wrapping around my throat like a scarf.

It honestly looks like it came straight from one of the dirty and worn magazines Mel scored from the old ones. Hundreds of years ago they used to have books all about fashion, and some hunters found a few over the years that Mel collects like trophies.

I want to wear it. Melissa is my closest friend and she spent so much time stitching it together.

The floral dress that Tess is referring to is a lot more simple. Melissa made me that one too, but it doesn't exactly scream birthday girl. It's a simple dress, with pink flowers all over the material. It's beautiful—like everything else she makes—but I'm not about to wear it simply because my boyfriend is suddenly obsessed with it. He's seen me in it at least a dozen times, I only have so many dresses.

I quickly undress and slide into the silken one. When I stand in front of my tiny mirror, I'm amazed at how well it fits. It's even more beautiful when it's on a physical body and not Melissa's mannequin, but the more I stare at the satin, the more I see how it clings to every imperfection I've ever worried about.

Nonetheless, I still want Mel to see her work. I want the entire bunker to. So, I comb out my hair, allowing the blonde waves to flow across my shoulders and down my back.

The fashion magazines Mel has show people with colours all over their faces too—makeup. The closest thing we have to that is something more similar to paint.

I take some of the red and smear it over my lips. It'll rub off quickly and that's fine. It makes me feel beautiful and that's all that matters. Plus the red brings out the blue in my eyes.

With one last look in the mirror, my confidence grows a little. I look really good and I feel amazing. I make a mental note to thank Mel generously before leaving my tiny room.

I get a few looks from fellow dwellers as I make my way across the bunker to the entertainment room. They're not used to seeing me—or anyone, for that matter—dressed up. It makes me feel better though because they're glancing at me with a good sort of shock on their faces.

By the time I get to the entertainment room, there's music over the speakers and everyone's standing around talking while enjoying drinks and snacks. A giant 24 poster is plastered on the back wall.

They all turn in more shock when they see me approaching and then they're collectively yelling, "Happy birthday!" while wearing massive smiles. I'm immediately bombarded with hugs for what feels like minutes, until the crowd finally disperses into the conversations they were sharing before.

It feels good once the attention isn't entirely on me. I find Mel at the back of the party and she gasps as I get near, "You look fucking amazing, Sel!"

"Thank you," I tell her. "Thank you so much. The dress is beautiful and it's probably the most amazing gift I've ever been given."

She smiles from over the edge of her cup. "I mean, I'm not the only one to thank, but you're welcome."

"What do you mean?"

"Where do you think I got that fabric from? It's not exactly easy to come across silk nowadays."

"I don't understand—"

"King," she explains. "King found the fabric while out on an expedition. Gave it to me a few weeks ago. Told me to make you a dress."

"Wait, what?" I pause, not sure if I'm hearing her correctly. "King? King Belmont?"

King has always gone out of his way to do things like this for me. Meaningful gifts every birthday that I grow to cherish because they're so unique. He surprises me every year with the things he manages to find on his excursions outside the bunker.

"The one and only."

"I—" I open my mouth to respond when I feel someone lightly grab the back of my arm, interrupting me.

"River," I smile as I see my big brother.

He pulls me in for a hug, "Happy birthday, baby sis."

I sense Mel wandering off as someone calls out for her. "Thanks, Riv."

When we pull apart, he glances down at the dress. "This is—" he's unsure of the words because he's not used to seeing me dressed like this. "It's a beautiful dress, Sel."

"All thanks go to Mel and King."

He gives me a confused expression, "King?"

I shrug, "Apparently he found and gave Mel the fabric to make it."

He nods his head. It doesn't interest him, but I don't blame him. It's a dress for his baby sister. "Meet me later? I have another gift for you."

"Yeah, 'course. I have to make my rounds saying hello to everyone and then I'll come find you."

I sip from my drink, creating conversation with the people that come to wish me well. It seems like it goes on forever, but that's the thing with birthdays—it's a lot of repetition.

Eventually, something in the air suddenly shifts and I can instantly tell that King has entered the room. My heart rate picks up speed. I can't deny it, I'm attracted to King. I have been my entire life.

I haven't seen King in close to a year. As lead hunter, he's usually somewhat quarantined away from the rest of us. Most of the hunters are. We have to be safe because we don't know what they could possibly be exposed to outside.

I take a sip of my drink to calm my nerves as I casually spin to face the eyes I can feel are setting my skin ablaze from behind me.

When I meet those hazel eyes framed by long eyelashes, I'm a bit taken aback.

I think I've changed quite a bit in the last eleven months we've seen each other. In fact, I know I have. But King? He's almost an entirely new person. Decorated with ink, like one massive piece of art.

His skin is tanned from hours outside in the sun. His black hair is now a bit longer on the top and shaved on the sides. He's added piercings—a hoop through the side of his nose, and several in both ears. He's also gotten many, many more tattoos and is stronger than I've ever seen him. He's no longer clean shaven either. Instead, he's sporting a short layer of stubble across his jawline that I love.

When it comes to hunters, the more tattoos and piercings they have, the more they've experienced. It's a sign of respect amongst most of our people.

And when it comes to King, I barely see an untouched piece of skin.

I manage to force a smile, despite my mixed feelings. At the same moment, he smirks this half lazy smirk that has me literally curling my toes.

He approaches, placing his drink down on the table beside me. "Sel—" his voice is husky and low as he bends slightly from his towering height to embrace me tightly. He literally sticks his stubbled jawline into the crook of my neck in one of his signature intimate hugs. "Happy birthday, Sel."

With my arms around his neck, the moment lingers probably a bit too long.

When he pulls away, his eyes rake down my body, looking at the dress.

I suddenly get self conscious. Maybe Tess was right and I should've worn the floral one. It's too much, isn't it? "It's a beautiful dress, but I'm not sure the fabric was suited for my body."

His eyebrows turn down. That's when I notice he's cut a small decorative line into the one. "What are you talking about? It looks fucking beautiful, Sel. You look fuckin' gorgeous."

"Thanks, King." My heart feels like it's hammering out of my throat. If he looked closely enough, he can probably see it thrumming like crazy at my pulse point at the base of my neck. "It's the dress. It's Mel. I don't usually look like this," I explain, as if he doesn't already know that.

He shakes his head. "While the dress is beautiful and Mel does wonderful work," he begins and then his voice drops, "it's not the dress. It's you. You're wearing the dress, not the other way around."

King has always been a bit of a flirt, even with me. Not that anything real has ever happened between us because we're friends. He just enjoys teasing me.

"Mel told me it was you that got the fabric. How'd you—" I don't know which question to ask first. How'd you find it? How'd you know baby blue is my favourite colour? Why'd you do it?

He shrugs like it's no big deal. "I found it in an abandoned home, brought it back. It was filthy, but it looks like Mel has washed it up nice. It was a lucky find."

"Nevertheless, it's a wonderful gift, so thank you."

His eyes rake down my body again and it elicits goosebumps all over my skin. "I agree."

I open my mouth to respond when there are hands on my waist and I'm suddenly being pulled into someone's chest. I know it's Tess and I can sense he's had too much to drink, but I plaster a smile on my face.

When he steps around, he immediately peers at the silken fabric and an unhappy expression pulls at his features. "What happened to the dress with the flowers?" He questions quietly, somewhat stepping between King and I to create some privacy.

"I told you, I wanted to wear what Melissa made me."

"It's a beautiful dress, Tess," King's voice sounds from behind.

Tess rolls his eyes, knowing King can't see it. Tess has always hated King. Not only does he not like the reputation King has, but he thinks King is a horrible person. He hates everything about King and I imagine King's copious tattoos and piercings only add to his distaste because Tess is the complete opposite.

I think a large part of it is that Tess doesn't trust King. Doesn't trust him around me. Doesn't trust him as leader of the hunters, either.

Another part of their issue is the fact that—since he began dating me and we got serious—Tess became my father's second in command. This has resulted in Tess and King having to go head-to-head at times when they disagree on issues related to their jobs.

My eyes flicker over to King to find him staring straight at me. There's a moment where he doesn't break eye contact, but I do when I see Hazel walking by.

"Hey, King," Hazel gives King a flirtatious smile as she passes and I suddenly feel awkward.

That's the thing about King Belmont—he's a notorious player within Bunker Zeta. He gets a lot of attention from everyone. He's the hottest guy in the vault and he's head of his sector so that tends to get him even more recognition.

"Hey," he mutters back, but when I look at him, he's not paying her any attention. His gaze is still firmly fixated on me.

"Tess, can I steal you for a minute?" I turn to see Lucas calling out for him. He's waving him over, trying to get his attention, which makes me think it's something urgent.

"Coming," Tess responds, giving me a quick kiss before he rushes off.

That leaves me alone with King again, but he's still observing me in a way that has me curious. "Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

"Like what?" He's not oblivious. He wants to tease me.

"You keep staring at me. Why?"

"I'm trying to figure it out."

"What?"

"Something's different about you. In the last year, you've changed."

I shrug, "I mean, everybody does, no? You've changed a lot too."

"Physically, yes, but I'm still the same person."

I'm not entirely sure what he's getting at.

"I don't mean it in a bad way, Sel. You just seem—" he pauses. He seems hesitant to say whatever is on the tip of his tongue. "Y'know what, never mind. As long as you're happy, that's all I want for you." His face wears an expression that is unreadable.

I play with the flowing fabric at my thighs as a distraction, "Why do you say that?"

Since I've broken eye contact, he gently grabs my wrist and encourages my eyes up to his. "I know you, Sel," his voice is quiet, but concerned and genuine. "You want me to say it?"

I nod weakly, I need to hear whatever it is he has to say. I think I know already because they're thoughts that've been swirling in my mind for months. Something that nobody else in my life has noticed—not my father and not my boyfriend. I think River can sense something off, but he's not always intuitive with other people's feelings.

If my mom was still alive, she might have recognized it too.

Instead, my mom cheated on my father. Destroyed their marriage when I was only four and fled out of the bunker with her lover, where she died in the drylands.

This is typical of King, though. This is why I've tried explaining to Tess that he isn't evil. He might sleep around and have a crass mouth, but he genuinely cares about the people he's close with. And he's always been able to read me like a book.

"You don't seem happy. It's your birthday, everyone's here to celebrate how incredible you are, you look fuckin' gorgeous, but there's something missing in your eyes. You seem quieter than I remember. Meeker." He breaks eye contact for only a moment to glance over my shoulder and I see his jaw clench, the vein at the pointed edge of it throbbing.

I shrug, trying to play it off. "I've just been feeling unfulfilled doing office work for my dad. It's getting to me."

"So switch to another sector." He says it as if it's that simple. "Do whatever the fuck makes you happy, Selene. Life's only so long, don't waste it pleasing people who don't have your best interests at heart."

"It's not that simple, you know that." In fact, I'm not sure I've ever heard of anyone switching sectors. Once the aptitude test suggests you for one sector, that's it. I don't even know what that looks like.

"It can't hurt to try though, right? If that's what you want."

He has a point, I guess. How could I ever possibly know unless I try? But first, I'd have to figure out exactly what I'd like to do and how serious I am about it.

It doesn't help that I'm fairly positive my father won't allow it. He seems thrilled every morning to greet me at work. I can't imagine how it'd hurt him if I told him I wasn't enjoying it.

"Riv is staring at me," King chuckles.

I twist my neck to find that my brother's gaze focused on the two of us. "Why?" I raise an eyebrow as I turn back to King.

He shrugs his shoulders, "Maybe 'cause I can't take my eyes off you." As he says so, his eyes drag downwards, heated in their path. "Tess is an idiot for not appreciating you."

"Don't talk about him like that," I defend.

"Does it bother you when I tell you who he really is? Tessticles Walker doesn't appreciate you, Selene."

"Don't call him that," I give him an annoyed glance. He adopted that nickname for Tess shortly after we first started dating—his ultimate way of teasing me about my boyfriend.

King laughs, clearly amused at my reaction.

"Why can't the two of you get along?"

He shrugs, "He's the one who decided to have an issue with me. I've never had anything against the man." I think he's done speaking but then he adds, "Not until he started treating you like shit."

"You haven't even been here for eleven months. How could you possibly jump to that conclusion?"

"I have eyes." His gaze flickers away from me to over my shoulder. His jaw tenses as he says, "Did you ever tell him about the time we made out?"

"No," I admit. "We kissed once when we were like, seventeen and drunk. It doesn't matter."

"We made out, Sel."

I shake my head.

"My tongue was in your mouth. We made out."

"We were drunk."

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen," his voice has lowered an octave, sending chills over my skin.

"Tess would lose it if he found that out. Not even River knows."

A smirk curves the one side of King's mouth up. "Not even River," he repeats. "So then we did make out. You wouldn't be so secretive about it if we'd only kissed."

My skin heats. "It doesn't matter," I reiterate. "It was a drunken mishap that happened years ago."

"It does matter. Otherwise you wouldn't hide it."

I take a deep breath. I can't handle King's teasing today, not when he's looking at me like that. "Can we drop this and just have a good time?"

"I'm having a good time," he tells me, smirk still evident on his face.

"I can see that. You have some weird kink when it comes to teasing me."

"Oh, it's a kink now, yeah? What do you know about kinks, Selene? What has Tessticles taught you?"

If I thought my skin was heated before, I feel on fire now. "That's none of your business, King."

He's unable to control his laugh—but it's a deep, husky chuckle as though there's something more to it.

"I'm done with your teasing for the night," I tell him, giving him a warning glare. This is how it always is between us. He teases me until I relent and get so flustered that I leave the conversation. He knows it, I know it. So, I turn on my heel in an attempt to find my father and say hello.

However, someone begins slowly singing happy birthday and I twist to see River carrying a small cake for me. This is one of the traditions we've maintained from the old ones and it's one that I like.

I take a deep breath as everyone sings to me. Eventually, they finish and it's my moment. With a big inhale, I close my eyes and blow.

And I wish. I wish that—by my next birthday—my life is completely different. That I'm happy and fulfilled.

Little did I know the effect that wish would have on my life.