After connecting the last cryo chamber to his geothermal energy source, Flynn O'Neil flipped the switch on the concrete wall beside him. The room was illuminated in blue light and whirred with energy that filled the gaps between the cylindrical chambers.

Captain Keith Jones rested his large hand on Flynn's shoulder and said, "Good job, O'Neil. Your work here is done." The words were meant to sound celebratory, but coming from Keith, they sounded more like an annoyed command. You did it, now bolt.

"Yessir," Flynn muttered as he turned to leave. He wondered if I would ever return to this bunker, miles underground. He knew that the creation and activation of the chambers his colleagues had developed in this unknown bunker meant the end was coming, or that at least, the end was predicted in the very near future.

Flynn had visited other bunkers through his work at the DOD--Raven Rock Mountain Complex, Peters Mountain, and Cheyenne Mountain Complex--but this site was new and not to be advertised. Flynn had signed an ironclad NDA along with his four colleagues, Phoebe, Winston, Alexander, and Gunther. No one else outside of high-ranking military and government was meant to know about this place, yet here Flynn was, powering it and its cryogenic chambers meant for... who?

He knew the world's days must be numbered. He just didn't know if his days were numbered. As he stepped onto the elevator to return to the surface, he wondered if one of those chambers would be for him or if his use had run out. He knew he couldn't alarm anyone outside of the people who had also signed an NDA, but that didn't mean he couldn't strongly suggest that his loved ones prepare some survival supplies: Stock up on food, buy batteries and solar-powered electronics, get some weapons.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened onto the ground floor. Flynn did his best to relax his facial muscles, not wanting to reveal his concern to the soldiers at the entrance. He smiled a toothless grin at them as they returned his wallet and phone to him before he continued out of the concrete tunnel to the private field where the entrance spit him out.

He took deep, swift strides across the field, clutching the phone in his pocket until he was met by a final soldier at the perimeter fencing.

"Have a good day," the soldier told him.

"You too," Flynn responded before steadily returning to his car.

He drove off-site, onto the main roads, and back into DC proper before he pulled into an alleyway he supposed couldn't have any surveillance, and retrieved his phone.

Before he allowed himself to spiral, he knew he had to meet with his colleagues to be sure he wasn't being overly paranoid. There was a Mexican restaurant nearby. He would tell them to meet him there.

"I need you all to meet me at the below address in one hour. We'll have lunch. It's urgent." He knew he had to be somewhat cryptic in his text, but he was also sure that it wouldn't matter for much longer.

"?" was the only reply he received, sent from Phoebe's phone.

"Just be there at 1 pm."

***

At 1:00 pm exactly, Flynn nervously watched as the door to the restaurant swung open. The first to arrive was Gunther Quail, and Flynn waved him towards the table he'd requested at the back of the dining room.

"Alright, Flynny boy, either you are really in the mood for a chimichanga or you've got something to say," Gunther said as he pulled out a chair across the table from Flynn. "Spit it out."

"I'll wait until the others arrive," he replied.

Gunther sucked his teeth as he lifted his menu. "Guess I'd better order a drink."

Five minutes and a tequila on the rocks later, Alexander arrived.

"Hello," he greeted the table after sliding into the booth beside Gunther.

Flynn checked his phone: No notifications from Phoebe or Winston. "Have either of you heard from the others?" he asked.

Gunther smiled to himself and took a sip of his drink. "Odd that they're both absent."

"I offered them a ride, but they said they weren't coming," Alexander said, his gruff voice barely raised above the volume of the mariachi music playing in the restaurant. "What's going on?"

Flynn took a deep breath. "I'm deeply concerned."

Before Flynn could continue, their server approached with a smile and an entirely lighter tone than Flynn's. "Are we ready to order, folks?"

Gunther smiled. "Just a few more minutes, thank you."

"You got it," the server replied before leaving the men to their privacy at the back of the restaurant.

"Just tell us what's going on, Flynn. I want to order my chimichanga before the lunch specials are over," Gunther said.

"Your chambers are up and running in that new bunker they've been working on," Flynn whispered, carefully choosing his words as cryptically as his intentions would allow.

"Great. That was the goal. What's the problem?"

Alexander stared between the two men, his brows furrowed behind his thick glasses.

"There were hundreds, Gunther. Hundreds. And my energy system is on. Not in sleep mode or hooked up and left for later. On."

Gunther took a sip of his drink and shrugged. "What's your concern? They'll give you a call for future work, Flynny boy, it's not like--"

"--They are planning to use the chambers," Alexander interjected.

Flynn gestured to Alexander, a wordless thank you for understanding before he leaned back against the cushioned booth. Gunther's wheels spun in his head, almost visibly.

"I think it will be soon," Flynn added.

The slight smirk Gunther had worn since entering the restaurant finally fell from his face, and he asked, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think they know," he paused to think of how he wanted to word this in public. "I think that they knew when the end will be, the final end, and they are preparing to spare a select few."

"Are we among that few?"

"I don't know. But here's what I'm planning to do: I'm going to leave here and give a ring to my family and friends and just let them know that I think they need some food and supplies as quickly as they can get them, and then I'm going to stay close. I'm not traveling for the 4th, I'm not leaving the city limits, I'm staying as close to that new site as I possibly can."

Gunther scanned the table as he processed what Flynn had just suggested and began to nod, slowly at first, and then quickly enough to seemingly snap himself out of the trance just in time to notice the server approach the table once more. "Thank you, Flynn," Gunther said soberly.

"Are we ready to order?" the server asked, his tone lower to match the dropped expressions on the men's faces.

"I think we'd better go, actually," Gunther said. He retrieved his leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and slapped $20 on the table. "Sorry for wasting your time."

Gunther slid on the booth bench towards the exit, pushing Alexander ahead of him, and Flynn followed suit.

"Oh, uh, okay," the server said.

The men didn't reply as they walked hurriedly out the door.

Outside, they had to be even more careful of what they said, so Alexander simply asked, "Where are you going, Gunther?"

"I'm getting Hugh. Come over when you're done with what you need to do. I should be home by then."

Alexander nodded, and the three men got into their separate cars. Flynn wasn't close with Alexander or Gunther, he didn't expect to be invited to their end-of-the-world gathering with Gunther's younger brother, and he didn't need to be. He had calls to make on his way to the grocery store. He wanted to grab a few nonperishables in case he wasn't summoned to the bunker.

He dialed his parents before starting the car. They answered as he turned out of the parking lot.

"Flynn, how are you?" his father asked.

"Good, good," he lied. "And you?"

"Can't complain. What's this call about? It isn't Saturday already, is it?"

"No, no, I wanted to phone you early this week."

"Why's that? Finally met someone, have you?"

Flynn rolled his eyes. "No, Dad." He knew that this would likely be the easiest way for him to get caught divulging state secrets he shouldn't be. He knew that he had to be extra cryptic on the phone. He knew that he likely had to lie. "With the summer months jacking the price of oil," he started, "we're being told to get groceries and things you may need now. Fill up your tank, get your essentials, particularly things that can last through the summer, and then thank me later when it's up to ten pounds per liter."

"Oh Christ, again? Glad we have a boy in the know over there. Thanks, son."

"Yeah, no problem. So you'll go get your oil and food, yeah? Don't forget water."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll get our things."

"Can I say hi to Mum before I let you go?" Flynn asked, feeling his throat start to tighten.

"Of course."

His dad called for Flynn's mom by name and after some moments of the muffled sound of a phone receiver rubbing against cloth, his mother picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mum."

"Hi, Flynn. It's so nice to hear from you. Dad says we've got to fill the tanks."

"Yeah, and get your groceries and water, too. It's that same summer inflation that's coming 'round."

"Thank you, love. We appreciate you calling."

"Hey, Mum?" A tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

"Yes, love?"

"I love you very much. I miss you both a lot. I can't wait to visit."

"After the 4th of July, right? Oh my, that's tomorrow."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, Mum. I'm set to leave in three days."

"You'll send me your flight details, yeah?"

"Of course. I'll send them before I head to the airport," he lied, though he hoped he was wrong. He hoped that all this phone call meant was that his parents would think he was bonkers after arriving however many months later than he had planned and after experiencing a summer without the massive inflation he had suggested there would be.

"Okay, love. We'll talk to them, okay? I've got to get the dishes clean. It's evening here, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"I love you. Talk to you in three days."

"Yeah, okay. Love you too."

He hung up the phone, wiped the tears from his face, took a few deep breaths, and hurried into the store.