sure I whispered, “I love you.”
My air was getting stuffy. My fingers slipped. I could feel the condensation forming around me. It dewed on the plastic cocoon.
Buried alive was exactly how I felt.
What had clicked? I wondered, trying to hold on to sanity.
Evan wore his silk pajamas.
“I may as well be comfortable,” he said. “And you, my love, will wear this.”
He pulled the top garment from my sexy drawer.
“I want to see you, in this when I wake you.” He smiled.
I was shaking as he led me downstairs into the basement and through the hidden door behind his wine cellar.
“Only three people know of this room.” He spoke in a whisper, though the house was empty of everyone but us.
I glanced at the wall above our pods. The clock read 12:01, Dec. 20th.
“Come.” Evan held open the door of my cocoon for me to climb in. I nodded stiffly and started forward. My eyes bulged at the lid — no windows.
“I’m afraid,” I said as I took his hand but didn’t get in.
“No need to be.” Evan gave me a squeeze. “See?” he let my hand drop and pointed towards a tube that was attached beneath where my head would go. “That will deliver air. And that,” he pointed towards the foot of the pod, “is where the coolant is injected. Once you are all tucked in you will be suspended until I can wake you.”
“You’re going to wake up first?”
Evan smiled again. “We’ve talked about this before.” His words weren’t harsh. He sat on the mat where in moments I would lay and patted the spot next to him for me to join him.
I sat.
“I want to wake first and be sure the world is safe.”
I nodded. He had told me this before. I just needed to hear it again — one last time.
“Once I’m sure things are good I will come wake you.”
I leaned into him. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure we will be safe?”
“I am sure we will be safer than everyone else in this god-forsaken world.”
I sighed and leaned into him, grabbing at his silk nightshirt. “Tell me again.”
“If the world ends. If there are floods, asteroids, earthquakes, volcanos — none of these will harm us. Not in the cocoon.”
“And we aren’t the only ones,” I said, trying to calm myself and convince myself that this wasn’t a completely insane idea.
“No, my love — far from it. Most of the rich and all the most powerful people have these. My brother Randy and his wife Vanessa are probably already tucked into theirs by now.”
“You will wake up first,” I said, my voice feeling small.
“Yes…”
I cut him off. “What if you don’t? What if I wake first? What if something goes wrong? How will I get out? Who will come for me?”
“Relax.” Evan’s lips closed around mine.
As always, when he kissed me all my fears left me. All I could think with his lips over mine was how soft and smooth they felt. All I felt was the excitement that I’d found a man who loved me and wanted me. All I wanted to do was stay that way forever — in his arms, his lips on mine, his body tangled around me.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised.
His promise was the last thing I heard before the click of the pod being locked. From there I felt the tube under my head start to deliver air. As I strained my ears I heard a whisper of it pumping in. The hose next to my feet started up with more noise and more force. After that I remembered no more until the click that woke me
What had clicked? I asked myself.
My hands searched, fumbling about. I found the tube under my head. It was silent. There was no air. Had it turned off? I lay still, holding my breath. Listening. There was nothing. No sound anywhere.
I shifted, feeling along the crack of the pod. I wanted to call out. I wanted to shout for Evan to come — to get me. But I didn’t want to hear my Gran’s voice coming from my mouth again.
Why wasn’t he opening the pod up? Why wasn’t he coming to tell me that everything was ok now? We had survived. We must have. We could come out now — couldn’t we?
I’d managed to feel right down to my toes and all the way up to my head. Both sides. There was no lever. No handle. No button. No latch. No slide. No way out.
“Evan,” I sobbed, ignoring the sound of my voice, “what have you done to me?”
My voice…Gran’s voice. My heart stopped. “But he promised. He promised that time wouldn’t touch us.” The sound of my voice argued that Evan had been wrong.
Slowly, feeling my hands shake all the way up, I brought them to my face. “Please be wrong,” I prayed, knowing I didn’t have a prayer.
And there was my answer — the wrinkles under my fingers told me everything I’d missed. I was old. Older than Gran when I’d said goodbye to her. If I was this old, Evan was older — or dead. Most likely dead.
Years, Evan had said we’d survive for years. Nothing could hurt us. Nothing had. Nothing but time.
I let my arms drop to my side. There was no use. There was nothing left for me.
I didn’t blame Evan — he was only trying to survive the end of the world.
“It’s completely safe,” Evan had promised.
“So is being buried alive,” I’d answered.
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