Chapter 7

Ajisaka was startled awake by a knocking sound at the bunker door. It wasn’t the usual creaking of water pipes or the gentle sigh of wind he had grown accustomed to. This sound was sharper, more distinct, as if something—or someone—was calling out from the darkness. With his heart racing, Ajisaka gathered his courage and crept toward the door. Each step felt heavier, weighed down not only by exhaustion but by a gnawing fear that twisted within him.

"Binar… stay in bed, alright?" he whispered softly, his voice barely escaping his throat. Binar, already wide awake and watching him with anxious eyes, gave a silent nod. Fear flickered in his sister's gaze, but Ajisaka knew he couldn't let his own doubts show. He had to stay strong. For Binar. For both of them.

Ajisaka pressed his eye to the tiny peephole in the door. He saw nothing—only an endless darkness that swallowed everything. No shadows, no signs of life. But that knock? He was certain he’d heard it. So vivid, as if someone were on the other side, wanting to breach the thin barrier of safety they had crafted in this cramped bunker.

"Who’s out there?" he whispered, but no answer came. Silence. Only his own breath echoed in the dark. The knock had stopped just as suddenly as it started, but it left a lingering fear in his mind. Each night felt more ominous now, and Ajisaka knew something terrible was drawing near.

Morning arrived with an eerie stillness. Normally, Binar's cheerful footsteps would bring a small comfort to break the silence. But today, there was no laughter, no curious questions. Just quiet. Binar sat in the corner, her usually bright eyes dull and weary. Ajisaka didn’t need words to know what she was thinking. Their food was running out. Only a few cans remained in the cold corner of the bunker, enough for a few days at most.

Ajisaka stared at their dwindling supplies with a hollow gaze. Time was running out, and he knew they couldn’t survive here for much longer. But where could they go? The world outside was gone, just ruins and poison awaiting them. The hope they had once clung to was fading, slipping away like dust in the wind.

"Brother… will we ever leave here?" Binar’s voice was faint, holding onto a nearly forgotten hope. The question stabbed at Ajisaka’s heart each time she asked it. How could he respond? He didn’t want to crush his sister’s last glimmer of hope, but he also knew their chances were growing slimmer by the day.

"We will, Bin. We just need to hold on a little longer," Ajisaka answered, trying to sound convincing, though he felt the darkness closing in. Every passing day felt like another dead end, with no escape in sight.

Night came again, bringing with it a tightening tension. Ajisaka tried to keep calm, but the strange sounds outside only grew. Soft scuffling, like faint footsteps, stirred an increasing dread within him. He wanted to believe it was just an animal, or perhaps merely the wind brushing against the ruins above them, but his instincts told him otherwise. Something was out there. Something that knew they were here.

Ajisaka didn’t want to alarm Binar, so he stayed quiet. But that night, when the knock returned, louder and more insistent, his heartbeat quickened. This time, a shadow appeared outside the door. Faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Something—or someone—was waiting.

"Brother… please, don’t open the door," Binar’s voice trembled, laced with fear. Ajisaka could feel her terror, but he knew they had to stay calm. They couldn’t let the fear consume them, even though it felt more real and inescapable than ever.

He crept toward the door once more, peering through the peephole. Amid the shifting shadows, he saw something that chilled his blood. A figure stood outside, motionless in front of the door. Ajisaka felt his heart pound faster. His hand shook as he reached for the door handle, almost compelled to open it. But something stopped him. Whether it was fear, or his instinct to protect Binar, he wasn’t sure. Yet he knew one thing: opening that door might spell the end of everything.

That night, the knocking persisted, unyielding, as if testing their patience. Each knock felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any moment. Binar curled up in the corner, clutching her blanket tightly, while Ajisaka sat in silence, waiting… and listening.

The following day, Ajisaka awoke with a body drained of energy, but his mind was racing. They couldn’t endure this much longer. The darkness that surrounded them wasn’t just physical; it was a creeping mental strain. The fear that haunted them was beginning to erode their fragile sense of peace. Binar had started to cry silently, and Ajisaka felt increasingly at a loss for words to comfort her.

The days passed in unrelenting tension. Every night, the knocking returned, and every morning, there was no trace of anything outside. Only darkness and a fear that grew thicker each day. Ajisaka knew they couldn’t go on like this. The knocking wasn’t merely a sound; it was a threat. Someone, or something, knew where they were, and whatever it was, it was waiting… just waiting for the right moment to strike.

That night, when the knocking didn’t come, Ajisaka felt an unexpected sense of dread. The silence was more terrifying than the knocking itself. It was as if something was scheming just beyond the door’s reach. He felt a sudden urge to be prepared, though he didn’t know for what. Whatever it was, their time was running out.

"We have to get out of here, Bin. Sooner or later, we’ll have to leave," Ajisaka whispered. But he knew they had nowhere to go.

Ajisaka and Binar began tidying the bunker in silence, moving slowly through the thick quiet that surrounded them. They tried to distract themselves from the growing hunger pains and the fear that was starting to seize their hearts. Every corner of the bunker, once a sanctuary, now felt stifling. The stale smell and remnants of almost-gone canned food made the air heavier to breathe.

Binar, though still trying to be cheerful, was losing her strength. She moved slowly, sweeping dust from the corners with a weak hand. Ajisaka watched her with worry, knowing they didn’t have much time left before hunger would claim them. Yet, he also knew giving up was not an option. They had to survive, no matter the cost.

While cleaning the back of the bunker, a corner they seldom touched, Ajisaka discovered something unusual. A hidden drawer beneath a rusty metal shelf. He had never noticed it before. Quickly, he slid the shelf aside and cautiously opened the drawer. Inside, he found several unexpected supplies—spare batteries, a small flashlight, and, to his surprise, a few unopened cans of food.

Ajisaka held his breath for a moment, then carefully pulled out the cans. His hands trembled, not only from unbearable hunger but also from the surge of small, sudden happiness. “Bin! Look, we found more food!” he called in a hoarse voice. Binar, weary and worn, immediately perked up and hurried over, a spark returning to his tired eyes. They opened one of the cans, eating its contents slowly, trying hard not to devour it too quickly.

With a bit of food in their stomachs, the bunker felt lighter somehow. Binar even managed a small smile, and Ajisaka felt a glimmer of hope rising within his chest. Even if just a little, these extra supplies might buy them more time—to think, to perhaps, just maybe, find a way out of this desperate situation.

But the joy was short-lived. As they were reorganizing the supplies and tidying up the drawer, a sudden noise came from the direction of the bunker door. Knocking—this time louder, more urgent. Ajisaka immediately froze. He motioned for Binar to stay silent. Binar’s hand instinctively found his and held on tight, fear gripping them once more.

The knocks grew louder, as if whoever was outside was truly determined to get in. This time, it wasn’t just knocking; there were faint sounds, like someone speaking softly beyond the door. Ajisaka tried to listen carefully, but the voice was so quiet, a faint murmur that couldn’t be made out.

Slowly, Ajisaka backed away, his body tense, his gaze fixed on the door. Whoever was outside, they seemed braver than before. He knew the door was strong, yet the persistent knocking and faint voices made him feel uneasy. Something was very wrong. His heart pounded as he heard the sound of something sharp, like metal, working at the bunker door’s lock.

For once, Binar, usually full of curiosity, said nothing. He just stared at Ajisaka, pale-faced, eyes full of fear. Ajisaka placed himself protectively in front of his sibling, as if shielding him from an unseen threat. He knew, whatever was outside, he couldn’t let it get in.

Ajisaka reached into the newly found drawer and pulled out a small flashlight. Its faint beam didn’t do much to light up the room, but it was enough to keep them from being swallowed by complete darkness. With a heavy breath, Ajisaka approached the door, wanting to make sure the lock was still secure. Each knock felt like the ticking of a clock counting down to an inevitable end.

“Kak…who’s out there?” Binar finally whispered, his voice trembling. Ajisaka didn’t answer. He only gripped the flashlight tighter, his eyes locked on the door.

The sounds outside grew clearer now. It wasn’t just mumbling but faint words that they could almost understand. “Please… open…” The voice was raspy, tired, barely sounding human. Ajisaka felt his blood turn cold. Was it the voice of a survivor? Or something else entirely?

They both stayed silent, frozen in place. Ajisaka’s breathing grew shallow. The voice continued, clearer now: “Open… the door… we need… to come in…” It sounded closer, more desperate, but strange—like it wasn’t just one voice but many, speaking together in unison.

A terrible feeling settled in Ajisaka’s stomach. He pulled Binar closer, keeping his brother shielded behind him. The knocking grew louder, like hammering. The bunker door shook with each blow, and Ajisaka knew they had to act before it gave way.

Quickly, he moved to the drawer where they’d found the spare batteries. In the corner, he spotted something that might serve as a weapon—a rusty iron rod, heavy and solid. He picked it up, gripping it tightly, prepared for the worst. Binar could only look at him in fear, hoping Ajisaka could protect them.

The voices outside started to fade, but Ajisaka knew they hadn’t truly gone. Each time the pounding stopped, the silence that followed was even more ominous. Binar was silently crying, hugging his knees, and Ajisaka felt a wave of despair. The fear coiled around him, but he knew he had to stay strong.

“They’re not getting in,” Ajisaka muttered, though he wasn’t sure he truly believed it himself.