Ted looked at the meager pile of supplies in the corner. Four cans of soup. A radio. A mask. One bottle of water. He looked at his family. He had saved them from the fire, but now the real game of survival—the long, hungry wait in the dark—had just begun.

He lunged for the kitchen. He needed soup. He scooped up four cans, their tin cold against his sweaty palms. Next, a map —can’t navigate the wasteland without one. He kicked a chair aside, grabbing the First Aid kit and a Boy Scout handbook . "Move it!" he yelled as Timmy scrambled toward the hatch.

Darkness swallowed them. The only sound was the four of them breathing, ragged and fast. "We’re alive," Timmy whispered.

He grabbed a heavy from the shelf and a stray bottle of water . His fingers brushed the suitcase, but there was no time. The floor began to vibrate. The sky outside the window shifted from blue to a blinding, impossible white. Ted dived.