This Broken Earth

Chapter 7: Don’t Forget to Kiss Her

Chapter 7: Don’t Forget to Kiss Her


The power flickered again just after midnight.

The emergency lights—faint and yellowed—shuddered in their casings, then steadied. A low hum rolled through the walls like a distant earthquake, subtle but unsettling, as if the bunker itself had taken a breath and was holding it.

But nothing came.

No shrieks from the vents. No echoing footfalls. Just silence.

For now, the creatures—Version Fours, according to Dane—had gone quiet. Dormant. As if hiding again. Dane suspected they were waiting—watching.

“Until they move, we don’t,” he had said in the last briefing. “This isn’t a game of chase—it’s survival.”

He might be right. But that silence? It felt like the kind that came before a scream.

The aftermath hung heavy.

Ty hadn’t made it—his name already being whispered in past tense. One of the guards had his leg torn open during the attack, but he was stable now. Everyone else was on edge, stationed at checkpoints or huddled behind locked doors, waiting for something to move.

Lex stayed quiet on the way back, one hand resting on Lina’s small shoulder as they walked her through the dim corridor.

Lina clung to her quietly the entire time, her fingers curled into Lex’s bare arm, until the familiar form of her grandmother appeared at the end of the hallway. The older woman crouched down, arms open, voice trembling with relief.

“You did good,” Lex murmured, brushing Lina’s hair back.

Lina hesitated just a beat before letting go, then ran into the woman’s arms.

Nate stepped forward, his voice low. “Keep her somewhere safe. Away from the vents.”

“Thank you,” the woman whispered.

Lex and Nate turned to go, giving the reunion its space. Neither of them said anything—there wasn’t much to say. Just the soft sound of Lina’s grandmother whispering into her hair, and the echo of their footsteps fading down the corridor.

“Bye,” Lina called after them. “Don’t forget to kiss her.”

Lex froze mid-step. A flush crept up her neck as she glanced at Nate, who raised a brow, clearly amused.

“She’s eight,” Lex muttered.

“She’s observant,” Nate said, still smirking as they disappeared down the hall.

They made it only one level before Lex sank to the floor, her back against the wall, gaze forward at the second-floor railing. Nate followed, sliding down beside her with a low exhale. His rifle rested across his lap. Her knees were pulled up, arms looped loosely around them.

For a while, they just sat there—not saying anything, just listening to the hum of the vents and the faint clicks from the backup generator.

It felt oddly peaceful.

“That kid’s tough,” Nate said quietly, breaking the silence. “Tougher than I was at eight.”

Lex gave a soft, tired huff. “She reminds me of Wren. A little mouthier, maybe.”

Nate turned his head toward her, one brow lifting. “Mouthier?”

Lex smirked faintly. “Okay, fine. Equal.”

His mouth quirked, just enough to pass for a smile. “That’s terrifying.”

They fell quiet again. A long beat stretched between them. Then Lex glanced sideways.

“You think they’re waiting?” she asked. “The creatures. You think they’re giving us time on purpose?”

“I don’t know,” Nate said. “But I don’t like that they’re smart enough to play the long game.”

She nodded, her cheek resting briefly on her knees. “Me either.”

His voice softened. “You doing okay?”

Lex didn’t answer right away. Her shoulders lifted slightly. “I will be.”

A pause.

Then she added, quieter, “You?”

Nate looked forward, eyes tracing the lines of the hallway. “Yeah. Just need a few hours where nothing tries to kill us.”

Lex gave a short laugh. “We’re overdue.”

A familiar figure rounded the corner—Gray, moving quickly, a quiet urgency in his eyes.

“Dane wants you,” he said, voice low.

Lex stared. “Now?”

He gave a small nod. “He found something.”

*

The meeting was colder than usual, and quieter. Dane stood at the central table with Gray beside him, both of them staring at a flickering screen. A radio unit sat next to it, cables running from it to a jury-rigged power source.

When Lex stepped inside, Dane didn’t look up. “Close the door.”

She did.

Gray tapped the screen. “We’ve been picking up signals since you left—static mostly. But this one just came through a few minutes ago.”

He clicked play.

A faint voice crackled through the static, distorted, repeating.

“Blackwell… 019… system… error… initiate recall… Blackwell… 019… system…”

Lex’s stomach turned.

“Did that just say my name?”

Gray nodded. “And the subject number that showed up in the Meridian files.”

“They’re looking for you,” Dane said finally. “Which means we use that.”

Lex narrowed her eyes. “Use it how?”

“We bait them.”

Nate stepped forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dane was calm, too calm. “They’re machines, or mostly machines. Which means they’re programmed to prioritize targets. If we feed them a false signal—something that imitates Lex’s bioreadings—we might be able to lure them out.”

Lex folded her arms. “So I’m bait?”

“No,” Dane said. “Something like you. Gray thinks he can generate a false signal, but it needs to come from the surface. Which means sending someone topside.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Lex didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

Nate turned toward her. “No.”

She met his gaze, voice steady. “I’m the one they want. It has to be me that lures them out of the bunker. Besides, I can do this. I’m not afraid.”

“Yes, you are,” Nate said, stepping closer. “And that’s exactly why I’m going with you.”

Dane didn’t argue. “You leave as soon as Gray’s done. Go silent. Plant the signal and return within the hour. We’ll lock down behind you. If the plan works—”

It will,” Lex said, firm and unshaken, cutting him off.


*

An hour later, the bunker felt like a tomb.

Everyone was quiet.

Some people stood in corners whispering. Others prayed. The youngest kids were kept hidden away in the lower level, where the air was thick with the smell of recycled warmth and the faint, bitter scent of anxiety.

Lex stood in the deployment area, a light jacket zipped pack slung over her shoulder. Nate was adjusting his gear, his expression unreadable. Gray handed her a small silver cube, barely bigger than her palm.

“It’s pre-programmed with your biofrequency,” he said. “It’ll broadcast as soon as it’s powered.”

Lex turned it over in her fingers. “And what if they trace it back to me anyway?”

He hesitated. “Then… run. Really fast.”

A sudden shuffle of footsteps made her glance toward the corridor—and she blinked in surprise as Wren skidded into view, breathless, cheeks flushed. Her curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was still in pajama bottoms—navy, patterned with Ravenclaw crests.

“Wren?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t go risking your life for us,” she said, panting. “I’m not losing my best friend. Not after everything else that’s been ripped away.”

Lex’s expression softened. She tugged Wren into a brief hug. “Just a quick mission,” she murmured. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Wren shook her head. “I heard two guards whispering about it. It’s dangerous.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You’re acting like this is some supply run—but it’s not. It’s bait. And if something happens to you out there…”

Nate stepped in, calm and certain. “Hey. I’ll be by her side. Whatever comes—I’ve got her.”

He hesitated, then added, softer,
“I know what it’s like to lose someone. I won’t let her be one of them.”

For a second, Wren didn’t say anything. Her shoulders eased—just slightly—as she looked between them.

Then she narrowed her eyes. “Is that a Nathan Karr promise?”

He gave a crooked smile. “It sure is.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it, Karr.”

“I know you will.”

Gray cleared his throat, glancing between them. “How did you even get in here?”

A smirk tugged at her mouth. “I flashed one of the guards.”

Gray’s eyebrows shot up.

Nate looked down, shaking his head as a quiet smirk crept in.

“She’s kidding,” Lex said quickly—then looked sideways. “You’re kidding… right?”

Wren only shrugged, entirely unbothered.


The airlock door creaked open.

Dane stood inside, holding the last manual lever.

He looked at both of them. “No heroics. In and out.”

Lex nodded. “Got it.”

She gave Wren a quick, tight squeeze, then pulled Gray into a softer one. “See you soon.”

The door opened fully. A rush of cold air hit her face—sharp, dry, laced with ash and earth. It smelled like dust… and the edge of something bigger.

Freedom.

Lex took a breath.

Nate fell into step beside her, rifle slung, flashlight in hand, silent.

And together, they stepped out into the world again.


The night aboveground was colder than Lex expected.

Still.

Black.

Unforgiving.

Her flashlight beam cut across the ground as they moved, slicing through debris and shadow. Only the faint creak of broken buildings stirred in the distance—
and a low mechanical buzz that didn’t belong to nature.

They moved through the skeletons of what had once been a town. It was hard to tell what anything used to be. Everything looked like some version of a grave.
Shattered windows. Rusting vehicles. Crumbling walls slouched inward, brick and steel folding under time and weather.

Every step echoed too loud in the silence. Lex flinched as her boots crunched broken glass. Nate’s gear clicked softly beside her, his flashlight sweeping ahead, eyes scanning every corner.

But it wasn’t just ahead she was worried about.
Lex kept glancing over her shoulder, pulse spiking at every shifting shadow, half-expecting to see a second set of footsteps echoing theirs.

Nate hadn’t said much since they surfaced.

She wasn’t sure if it was focus or fear.

Probably both.

After a while, Lex broke the silence.

“What did you do? Before all this?”

Nate adjusted his grip on the flashlight, sweeping it across a cracked sidewalk. “Warehouse job. Night shifts. Mostly loading shipments, moving crates, fixing busted equipment.”

Lex glanced at him, her beam angled low. “Was it something you wanted to do?”

He shook his head. “No. But life has a way of deciding for you.”

Lex nodded. “Yeah.”

She studied him for a second, her light catching the strap across his shoulder. “That explains the whole ‘quiet but could carry a truck’ vibe.”

He gave a short laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Have you seen your arms?” she said, dryly. “Kind of hard to miss.”

He smirked but didn’t argue.

“What about you?” He asked, glancing her way.

Lex hesitated. “Private prep school. Uniforms, rules, fake smiles. My mom thought it would make me successful or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fancy.”

“Strict,” she said. “Structured. Everyone pretended to have it all together. I mostly kept to myself.”

Nate flicked his beam to the side, scanning the edge of a crumbled storefront. “You seem like someone who notices everything but doesn’t say much.”

Lex smiled faintly. “That’s because I didn’t. I liked drawing more than talking.”

He gave a thoughtful nod. “Explains the way you look at things. Like you’re sketching the world in your head.”

She blinked at that—almost startled by how easily he saw her.

Then she said softly, “Maybe I was. Or maybe I just liked imagining it wasn’t falling apart.”

Nate didn’t say anything at first. Her words stuck with him longer than he expected. But the mission was still ticking in the back of his mind—loud in its own way.

“Here,” he said finally, pointing to a half-collapsed pharmacy with a caved-in roof and a relatively intact awning. “We set it inside. Gives us sight lines from multiple angles and easy exit routes.”

Lex nodded and followed him in.

The building groaned as they stepped through the doorframe. Rows of empty shelves leaned precariously, some long looted, others untouched. Near the back was a counter, its cracked glass still bearing a faded prescriptions only label.

“This work?” she asked.

Nate crouched beside the counter, unpacking a small signal emitter Gray had rigged. “Yeah. Get that decoy online.”

Lex pulled the silver cube from her pocket and tapped the side. It beeped once. A low hum began to pulse from its core.

She set it carefully beneath the counter.

“You really think they’ll follow it?” she asked.

Nate didn’t look up. “If they’re smart enough to send a message with your name in it… they’re smart enough to come find you.”

Lex sat back on her heels. “Then we need to be gone before they get here.”


They were halfway back to the outer perimeter when they saw it.

Lex stopped mid-step, grabbing Nate’s arm.

A drone hovered overhead.

But this one was different.

Sleeker. Black instead of silver. Its wings were tucked against its body like a bird of prey mid-dive. It made almost no sound.

And it wasn’t scanning.

It was following.

Lex ducked behind a rusted-out vehicle, heart hammering. Nate dropped beside her, eyes locked on the drone as it drifted lower—too precise in its movements.

“It’s tracking us,” he muttered.

Lex whispered, “Since when do they do that? I thought they attack on sight.”

“They usually do.”

A small red dot blinked to life beneath the drone’s eye.

It locked onto her.

Lex’s breath caught. “Why isn’t it shooting?” she asked.

Nate’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think it’s supposed to. Not to you.”

She turned toward him, unsettled. “So what then? It just watches me?”

“Or follows you back,” he said. “Which we’re not letting happen.”

He glanced at his rifle, then shook his head. “If I take it out here, it might send a signal—call in more. We need it away from you before we try anything.”

He scanned the alley behind them, calculating. “We split up. I’ll draw it off—head the opposite direction. Fire a few shots if I have to.”

“No.” Lex stepped in front of him, her voice tight. “Nate, no. There has to be another way.”

“Lex—”

“You don’t know how many are out there. What if it’s not just one? What if it calls them?”

He didn’t flinch. “If it tracks us to the bunker, that’s not just our problem—it becomes everyone’s.”

Lex knew he meant it—but she also knew that wasn’t why he was doing this. His first instinct wasn’t to protect the bunker. It was her.

“I don’t want to split up. I don’t want—” Her voice faltered, the words catching. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He stepped closer, hands gently bracketing her face, steady and grounding. “Hey. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, trying to keep herself from unraveling. “Yes.”

“Good.” His voice softened. “I’m gonna be fine. I can take care of myself. Meet me at the parking structure—the one from your first trip topside.”

Lex swallowed hard. “You better.”

He gave a faint smile. “We got this.”

Then he let go and took off—silent, fast, disappearing into the dark.

But the drone didn’t move.

It hovered in place, its red eye still fixed on Lex.

Nate didn’t stop. He raised his rifle and fired—one sharp, echoing shot that cracked through the silence.

The drone flinched. Its wings twitched. And then it turned—fast.

It followed him.

Lex stared after it, heart pounding.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lina’s voice rose—Don’t forget to kiss her.

Then Nate’s followed, calm and certain—Do you trust me?

She didn’t hesitate.
Just ran—because he asked her to.
Because she trusted him.

Not looking back.
Just moving forward.

Hoping he was right.
Hoping they’d both make it back.