Elven Zheng, Period 7, 5/30/23

 Elven Zheng

Period 7

05/30/23

Modern Mythology

Creativity & Fiction

My take on a World War Z interview.

Truth is, I don’t think I could’ve stayed in the bunker for much longer. Father was obsessed with the apocalypse, always babbling about what to do when the end comes. Mother hated every bit of what she described as his insanity, which is why she left. Father didn't mind, as it gave him freedom to sell our house to finance the construction of an underground bunker. Every paycheck he received, he would use it to refine the bunker and stock more non-perishables. 

Our normal lives were made difficult by his obsession, but I guess it paid off. Not many people knew about father’s bunker, but those who did would often talk bad about it and mock him for his visions. Father eventually proved everyone wrong. The bunker was the ultimate defense against the outbreak. 

The bunker had four layers of steel reinforced walls, a water purifying system, a heat generator, and self-sustained power based on solar energy. Father had solutions for every imaginable problem. The food storage seemed endless. There were jars of vitamin pills, a whole room of medicine and first aid, fire extinguishers and oxygen tanks, everything. There were even high end entertainment systems set up to keep us busy. Our only source of connection with the surface was an aged radio, but the connection was horrible. I’d often listen to the radio to keep track of the progression of the outbreak and listen to the panic and the deterioration of the world. I often thought about how others were faring during this time, and sometimes, I get the urge to leave the bunker and take a look at what’s going on outside. 

“Stop your foolishness. Be grateful you’re safe here. Stop asking for more.” was what father told me every time I suggested exploring the surface. It was frustrating. There was no one to talk to except for father, but he was always in his own world. He was always in his room, thinking about how to survive and strengthen the bunker. 

I remember the day when father smashed the radio and broke our only source of outside information. I was grateful that I’m being saved from the dangers of death and infection, but the daily life trapped inside a box was driving me crazy. The radio was my only escape. Before I knew it, I started envying the people on the surface. Father was angry when he realized my yearning to go outside. He smashed the radio, called me insane, and went back into his room. This was the beginning of our frequent arguments. I blame this on stress and anxiety, but there was nothing better for him and I to do. Father got fed up with my antics, so he started ignoring me. We rarely saw and greeted each other after that. This was unbearable as it made me feel more disconnected with reality. I would be talking to myself and have imaginary companions distract me. 

I lost track of how much time had passed, and I truly believed I’d die from boredom. Every day was the same. Waking up, eating, lying around, sleeping. I had enough. Making up my mind, I thought it would be better for me to die on the surface than die in this box down here, so I made a break for the surface. To my surprise, I was greeted by humans who rushed me to the hospital where they relocated me to this psychiatric center. I informed the people at the hospital that father might still be down in the bunker and gave them the approximate location of the bunker. I still haven’t heard back from them, but I’m hoping he’s fine.