"The Flicker" by H.E. Edgmon, Chapters 1–7

She remembers being scared all the time, though maybe that had more to do with the apocalypse than the bunker.

Supposedly, it’s some kind of survivors’ camp, a safe haven for people looking for community.

Cannibalism is a thing now.

"Obviously, since I ain’t clinging to the idea of some fantasy utopia. Honestly, Rose, I think you read too many of those kids’ books about dragons back in the day."

Sammy babbles his nonsensical language, having no idea he’s never gon’ see his sister again.

She figured out how to repurpose the clothes he’d grown out of into reusable diapers and wipes with just some needle and thread.

“Well? What about this? We can just forage for mushrooms, right?”

“You are a caretaker of the land. Your people have lived here since time immemorial. You should know this.”

The tears that well up in Millie’s eyes seriously make Rose question her own sanity.

What he didn’t see firsthand, he learned from broadcasts from the survivors’ Sanctuary.

There’s a few old newspapers and magazines, kicked underneath turned-over shelves. Rose picks them up and shoves them in one of her cargo pockets. Kindling, for later, in case desperation for a fire outweighs the dangers of starting one.

Rose’s last words replay ominously in Millie’s mind.

“Also, he’s really squeamish. He’d probably throw up if he ever had to fight someone.”

Rose is on the verge of a conniption.

“Besides, don’t it make you a hypocrite — telling them they should be embarrassed, when you’re sitting your happy butt on this bus right now, too?”