Page 17 of Lotus

I was just about to practice my sit-ups when Bradford sets a stack of comics near the pile of books I’ve been devouring. “I love comic books,” I say, my insides spiking with eager excitement. I’ve been down here for months, and the boredom has finally managed to fade. I’ve done so much reading. I’ve learned lots of new things. There’s a word called ‘collywobbles’ that makes me giggle every time I think about it.

Collywobbles!

Bradford takes his mask off, crouching down beside me. “You look like you’re in better spirits, kid,” he tells me, scratching his cheek. “You like the books?”

I sit up straight. “I love them! I learned that a laser could get trapped inside water. Did you know that?”

“Sure did,” he says, reaching into a backpack and pulling out more supplies. “I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up.”

“You did?”

“Yep. I wanted to have a big science lab and make secret potions.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He averts his eyes. “Life took a different turn, I guess.”

“Well, I hope you can still be a scientist someday. Maybe you can fix the air outside. That would be cool, huh?”

“Yeah, kid.” A pause before Bradford hands me the items he pulled out of his bag. “I brought you this, too. I thought maybe you could draw or something.”

My fingers curl around the spiral spine of the sketchpad. I’m not so good at drawing, I don’t think. I haven’t done it much.

“Thanks. Maybe I can draw my own stories, like the ones I’ve been reading about.”

He nods at me, lingering for a few silent beats. “All right, well, I’ll leave you alone now. Enjoy, Oliver.”

When Bradford departs, the hatch locking shut above me, I look down at the blank pad of paper in my hands. Bradford left a box of colored pencils next to the stack of comic books—tools for my creations. Yes, I like this idea. It will keep my mind busy and growing until I make it out of here. I can design exciting new worlds and grand adventures.

Then I can show my mom and Syd. I know they’re still alive, even though the deadly air destroyed a lot of people. My mom and Syd are the bravest people in the world, so they must be alive—they must be a part of the survivors who are holed up in a basement, just like Bradford and me. It’s gotta be true, because sometimes I can almost feel Syd. I hear her call my name.

Oliver…

Settling against a pillow, I bite down on my bottom lip, deep in thought. I’ll need a name for my comics. All great stories have great names.

But what?

My eyes dart around the dimly lit quarters, landing beside me on the stone wall.

A breath lodges in my throat.

Yes!

It’s perfect…

I awake with a start, damp from sweat, my fingers twisted up in the blue comforter I took with me onto the carpeted floor. I prefer sleeping on the ground as opposed to the bed. The mattress feels unbalanced and precarious—a luxury I have yet to get used to.

The cotton shirt is stuck to my chest, a chest that is heaving with anguished breaths as the muddled images threaten my fragile thread of sanity. My dreams and flashbacks to the lonely basement fill me with equal parts anxiety and comfort. It’s a peculiar thing.

With my palms to my face, I lean forward as I try to regain control of my breathing. It’s dark in the bedroom, the sun fast asleep, telling me that it’s still the middle of the night.

So, why do I hear talking and laughter?

I pull myself to unstable legs and pace over to the bedroom door, the voices becoming louder when I tug it open. It sounds like my brother and a mysterious female.

Sydney?

Creeping down the hallway, I stop in my tracks when a partially nude woman runs out of Gabe’s room, giggling and saying something unintelligible over her shoulder. Her eyes go wide when she spots me.

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