The dull crump of a distant explosion precedes a rain of dust from the shelter ceiling. Seren used to flinch when the bombs made ground. Now she lies listless on the packed earth floor, praying for silence. Kastral is still wearing his headset, tuned to an emergency channel that has broadcast only static for the past two weeks. She wonders how he can bear it, hissing in his ear. Perhaps it's better than the steady thump of explosives.
Her brother blinks, touching a hand to his earphone. "Seren," he says. His voice is hoarse. She wonders how long it has been since either of them last spoke. "Sen, they're broadcasting again."
She is at his side in an instant. Obediently he turns out a speaker so she can hear the announcement too; resting her head against his.
"Citizens," says the voice in her ear, tinny and thin. "Lifeboat protocols have been enacted. You are urged to evacuate immediately. Citizens. Lifeboat protocols have been enact-"
She tears the headset away as the message repeats itself. His hands have found hers, clutching painfully tight. "They can't be serious?"
She shakes her head, disbelieving. "There's no way we can get to Arcadia through the bombing."
"M-maybe they'll send some fighters over?" he says haltingly. They both know it's a hopeless fantasy.
"Maybe," she pretends to agree, biting the inside of her mouth until she tastes blood. Anger is boiling up now, through the layers of numb shock. She wants to pop the capsule lid on their shelter; take the pathetic bolt guns the Home Defence Service issued three weeks ago and run, screaming defiance. Better than waiting to die here in the dust.
Kastral is crying, she realises, and some of her anger ebbs. She embraces him. "Shhh. It's okay. It's okay, brother. We'll get through this."
"How?" he shudders, "They've left us Sen; left us to die."
"Yes," she says, surprised at the sound of her own bitterness. "They have. But that's not what we're going to do, is it?"
He makes a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "With two shoddy bolt guns and a busted emergency radio between us?"
"Well, we wouldn't want it to be easy."
He manages a watery chuckle at this piece of gallows humour. "No, I suppose not."
She opens her mouth to speak again but her words are lost to an ominous rumble. At first she thinks a bomb has landed close to their shelter, but the roar continues; rising in pitch. The shelter starts to judder.
Her brother redouble his grip. "What's happening?"
"I don't know!" She's never experienced an earthquake before, but imagines this is what one must feel like. The shaking is becoming unbearable, vibrating them across the floor like peas in a drum.
Kastral is screaming with fear. "Brother!" she shouts, over his cries. "Kastral, hold on!" She screws her eyes shut tight.
Please, she thinks, Please, at least let it be quick.