The day the bombs fell, everything changed. You, Sarah, and James were driving back from a weekend trip when the emergency broadcast hit. “Nuclear strike imminent. Seek shelter immediately.” For a moment, none of you moved, stunned by the words. Then, in the distance, you saw it—an explosion, blinding and massive, lighting up the horizon. Panic surged through you.

You slammed on the gas, weaving between cars as people fled in every direction. James fumbled with his phone, his voice shaky. “There’s a fallout shelter nearby!” He pointed to a rusted sign: “Fallout Shelter—1 mile.” You veered off the main road, following the sign as the rumble of the explosion grew louder behind you.

The bunker was hidden away, nearly forgotten. The three of you rushed to the metal door, yanking it open just as the shockwave hit. The earth trembled, dust falling from the ceiling, but the bunker held. You were alive.

For two days, you’ve huddled in the cold, dark shelter. Supplies are meager: food for five days, water for six, a radio that only crackles with static, a gas mask, and a small first aid kit. The bunker is cramped, and each passing hour weighs heavier on your minds.

On the second day, the faint light filtering through cracks in the bunker door vanished entirely. At first, you thought it was just nightfall. But as time passed, you realized something worse had happened. You peered through the small periscope, heart pounding.

Outside, the world had turned to ash. Nuclear winter had begun. Dark clouds choked the sky, and ash, thick as snow, blanketed everything. The temperature was already plummeting, and you knew the longer you stayed here, the more hopeless it became.

Sarah sat against the wall, trembling. “We can’t stay here,” she whispered. “The food won’t last.”

James paced anxiously, his eyes fixed on the bunker door. “What if there’s someone out there?”

Then, you heard it—a faint scraping noise coming from outside the bunker. You froze, unsure if it was the wind… or something else. Do you open?