text: The sun was dying. And that means our world was too. Some people believed that the sun would explode and we'd be in the blast radius with hardly any time to feel terror in our last moments of life. Others believed that it would just turn off, leaving plants to die and begin the collapse of the food chain which would lead to the painful starvation of the populace. And the wealthy of the world, with their vast resources, made plans. They created strongholds dug deep into the ground and stocked it with technologies that they hoped would allow them to live. They realized quickly that though they might survive, they would not live in the fashion they were accustomed to. So they recruited medical professionals, security, and various staff. These people they saved from the impending apocalypse for the price of servitude, not just of them but of their offspring. And so the stage was set. Not just for the destruction of the world as we know it, but for the violent end of the human race. It's been ten years since the sun went dark. As soon as the last ray of sunlight touched the earth, the underground habitats closed themselves off. Like Noah and those on the ark, those inside turned a deaf ear to the banging and screaming at their door. They comforted themselves with rhetoric and reason. Philip was a boy of five. He was born into a world of artificial light and indifference. His mother was a cleaner who worked punishing hours. He didn't know his father, but he heard things. Mean things whispered to his mother sometimes even in his presence. Most people ignored him, except when they needed him to crawl somewhere small to fix something. Most days, he was left alone. Which he preferred. He was responsible for his own care. He dressed and bathed himself. If he was hurt, he would attend to the wounds himself. If he didn't appear in the kitchens at meal times, no one would bring him food. His mother would stumble into their small room at the end of the workday and collapse on their shared bed. They were lucky to have some privacy. Most rooms housed several workers, but his mother was given a separate room when he was born because no one wanted to live with a screaming baby. At least that is what his mother told Philip. He had heard others give less kind reasons. Sometimes it made him angry and he cried great big hot tears. But people were cruel here and so he figured that even if there was some small truth to what they said, it didn't matter. His mother was good, no matter what had happened before he was born. He crawled out from the covers and pulled off her shoes. He brought her a roll he had saved from his dinner and poured her a small glass of water. She lay on her side, took great bites of the bread, and gulped the water down, almost choking. She fell back down immediately. Her eyes fluttered closed. Phillip pulled the blanket to cover her small frame and kissed her cheek. Her thin lips turned up into a sweet smile. “Thank you, my beautiful boy.” Philip petted her hair. “I love you, mama.” His mother being pulled quickly into slumber, gave her last bit of strength to mouth the words “love you too”. Then the little child climbed into the bed beside her curled close under the covers and slept without dreaming. The next day, Phillip woke to his still-sleeping mother. His eyes grew wide in fear. He shook her. “ Mama! Wake up! Wake up! You've overslept!” His mother groaned but didn't jump out of bed. Instead, she gave a wicked smile with her eyes still closed. “I wanted to surprise you. Today, I don't work. There was a lottery. Five workers would win a free day. And I won. It was just wonderful seeing the look of jealousy on that ugly face-,” she paused, sitting up to look into her son's eyes. “Can you imagine that hag implied that it was because of favoritism? But, let's forget her...Anyway, I won. Today, we can do anything you want.” Philip hadn't moved since his mom started talking. He was frozen from the shock of the news. He had never known his mother to take a day off of work except for illness and even then it was very rare. His mother’s smile faltered, worried that something was wrong with her son. She started to reach out to touch him when he finally moved and began to jump up and down on the bed. “Whoo hoo! Whoo hoo! This is the best day ever!” His mother beamed up at her little boy. It had been so long since she had seen him happy. She would do whatever she could to make today perfect for him. And It had been a perfect day. His mom pulled out her greatest possessions, five books. Even though Phillip knew each word by heart, he looked at each word carefully trying to memorize how each word looked. After each book was read, his mother quizzed him by pointing at random words to make sure he knew how to read them. They went down to the Kitchens for their meals and it was one of the cooks that slipped special treats into his mother's hands when no one was looking. She stuffed them into her pocket quickly and gave the man a bright smile. He blushed at her attention and then shooed them off before either of them would be noticed and reported. They played in the garden for a while. His mother wanted him to experience a little bit of what life on earth had been. She taught him how to play tag. She was his playmate as he was the only child in the working class. She trusted very few people, so she had the boy keep to himself as much as possible hoping that most would ignore him and that it might protect him from some of the horrors that she knew existed in this underground world. They ran until they were both winded and then laid down looking up toward the ceiling where someone had painted a sky and clouds. They ate the sweet confection given to them while sharing the shapes they imagined seeing in those clouds. Before falling asleep, they read through all the books again. This time his mother quizzed him on the spelling of some words. And when he was able to spell them all without error, she kissed the top of his curly head. They lay hugging in bed, but not yet sleeping. Neither wanted to end this day. Phillip pretended to sleep and looked through his eyelashes to watch his pretty mother. She looked down at her boy and there were tears in her eyes. He tried to stay awake just to see her for a little bit longer, but his eyelids were so tired and heavy. The next morning, it happened. Their room’s door had been kicked in and people spilled inside. His mother was dragged out of bed by her hair and forced from the room. Phillip sat on the bed shaking and crying out for his mother. The last thing she said was, “I love you, son.” The uprising continued for days. Phillip waited as long as he could, he hadn't eaten for so long and his water was all gone. Carefully, he stepped out from the cupboard that he hid in and began his journey to the kitchens. He stepped over splinters of wood that had once been the door to his room. The hallway was a mess. He could see that all the doors had been broken and there was glass everywhere. He peeked inside the rooms as he walked past but didn't stop. There was red splattered in many of the rooms and he moved quickly past those trying not to see more. It wasn't until he was in the kitchens that he began to look around. On the ground was the crumpled apron of the cook who gave treats to his mother. It was covered in blood. He knew what that meant. Philip found one of the large refrigerators. He opened it and took the nearest thing out which happened to be an apple. He bit into it. It was sweet and tart and the best thing he had ever eaten. He finished it in just a few moments and picked another fruit. He took a bite of the orange, rind and all. He spat it out and quickly figured out how to peel it to get to the tasty bits. Later, he found carrots and onions and ate several of them. In a nearby cupboard was some slightly stale bread and he devoured that as well. He finished his meal with three large glasses of water. For days, he never saw anyone. He wondered where everyone had gone. If everyone was dead. And if so, where were their bodies? He began to search and found an open doorway that he'd never been through. He followed it until he came to a locked security door. It's there that he saw someone. Oblivious to the child who stood a few yards away, the man tried unsuccessfully to reach his hand through one of the small openings in the security gate. He was dirty and bloody, his clothing torn and stained. He stops when he sees Philip. For a moment he just blinked in surprise. “Hi there. Hey there kid. Hi.” The man gives a too-big smile. “I'm really hungry. I haven't eaten for days and I need your help. This door is locked and I can't get in. See that latch right there? It's super easy. Just push that and the door can open right up. Yeah?” The boy doesn't move. ‘Don't be scared. I'm really nice. My name's Brad. What's your name?” “Phillip.” “Phillip? Phillip?... You're Molly's son. Yes, that's right. I know your mom.” “She's gone.” “Yeah? You're all alone? Well, I can take care of you.” He got on his knees and pushed his face into the gate looking sincere. “Cuz...cuz I'm your dad. I know you don't know me. But we're family. And family helps each other out. You open up this door and we will go looking for your mom. And then we can be a real family. You and your mom could come to live with me in a nice place with lots of toys. You’d like that wouldn't you?” “How come you never came before?” Brad signed frustrated and spoke low, looking down.“I couldn't ...for... some grown-up reasons.” The man looks up to see that the boy isn't impressed with that response. He continued. “You're mom and me...well we broke the rules. We weren't supposed to be together. When the authorities found out, they sent your mom to work down here. I didn't know about you for a long time. And then I figured it was for the best that I stay away.” He looked imploringly at Phillip. “But now I know that I was wrong. I should have come to see you.” Phillip moved a step closer and Brad didn't hide his eager expression. The little boy looked him dead in the face. “Someone said that you hurt my mom. That you made her do something she didn't want to...and that's why she had me.” The blood drained out of Brad’s face. “No. No. I never hurt her.” “I don't believe you.” Each word from the small mouth was emphasized, heavy with disdain. Brad's lip curled in anger. He lunged forward trying to grab at the boy. “You little shit! Open this door right now! Right now!” Phillip stumbled back at the sudden change in demeanor but righted himself quickly. Without another word, he turned around and walked back to his room. He heard the angry screams turn into pleading, but he didn't go back. He would never open that door. Not for the man who hurt his mother. Never.