The ladder seemed to go down forever.
Caleb went first, descending into the dark hole with his gun drawn. I followed, carrying Leo in the carrier on my chest.
As we climbed down, the air changed. It stopped smelling like dry desert dust and started smelling like... life. Damp earth. Dried herbs. And definitely, undeniably, chicken broth.
We reached the bottom. It was a concrete tunnel, lit by strings of old Christmas lights.
"Stay behind me," Caleb whispered.
We walked toward a metal door at the end of the tunnel. It was slightly ajar.
Inside, we didn't find a military base. We found a home.
It was a large, open space—likely an old bomb shelter. But someone had filled it with colorful rugs, mismatched furniture, and rows of bunk beds.
There were about twenty people. Men, wo
