A week had passed since Arlan had arrived on the island. Nothing important happened during that time, the bunker was completely closed, no one went in or out.
There were about 150 people in the bunker, 15 of whom had died from wounds sustained on the day of the attack. This seriously affected the morale of the people, which was already at rock bottom.
Things were still as bad as ever, but little by little, things were getting worse until they reached a point of no return, a point where despair would overcome reason.
Arlan was sitting in front of a bed in a corner of the common area. On the bed lay Allete, unconscious, with several bandages covering his head and various parts of his body.
In all that time, Allete had not woken up. A few medically trained people in the bunker had tried to help her, but they had only been able to stabilize her.
Arlan looked at the watch on his wrist and got up to go to work, but not before taking one last look at his personal assistant.
For the past week, he had been doing all sorts of things Laurel had asked him to do, from fixing various problems to helping her with some things.
Arlan didn't know if everything Laurel made him do was necessary, but it helped him pass the time doing something.
Many of those who were well enough to do some kind of work chose not to, making excuses for what had happened to them. So many people lay around all day doing nothing but staring at the ceiling and suffering inside.
That did not bother Arlan. Although he didn't know what the people in the common area were thinking, he knew that they were already broken, or at least seemed to be.
Walking down the now familiar solid concrete corridors, Arlan found himself facing Laurel.
"Laurel"
The woman, who was a few inches taller than him, looked at him with the same mean eyes as always and pointed back with her big toe.
"There's an emergency meeting, come on"
Arlan didn't ask and started to follow her.
This week he had gotten to know Laurel's attitude and ways a little better. She was too strict, so much so that if she saw something that wasn't the way it should be, she would easily stress out and try to fix it on the spot.
So, in this situation where so many things were going wrong, Laurel was more easily stressed, which helped create an aura of wildness around her.
Everyone she interacted with preferred to stay as far away from her as possible and avoid any trouble.
Arlan understood this quickly, so he preferred not to antagonize her as long as it didn't explicitly affect him.
After walking through the corridors for a while, they came to the room Arlan had spied on the day he woke up after the accident.
There, Tristan was waiting with several other military men under his command, chatting among themselves. On the other side, the doctor Arlan had seen the first day was busy reading some documents, oblivious to anything around him.
When Laurel and Arlan arrived, the military greeted them briefly and began the meeting without further ado.
Tristan leaned on the center table with both hands and raised his head to look at everyone with a serious expression.
"I'll be blunt, we're running out of food"
No one in the room was very surprised, it was something that was bound to happen. However, it happened faster than expected.
"How long are we talking?" asked Laurel, crossing her arms.
Tristan stared at her for a few seconds before answering.
"A few days at least, a week if we ration to the max"
Laurel glared at him angrily.
"Why did you wait until now to comment?"
If they had known a week ago that the food was running out, they could have done something about it, but now, with only a few days of food left, it was hard to organize a plan.
"It's not that I didn't want to, it's just that we didn't know until today"
Laurel frowned and raised her voice.
"Explain"
As a matter of priority and security, the military were the ones in control of the food, so Tristan, as the military man in charge, should know the state of the food better than anyone else.
"Today, when my soldiers went to organize the breakfast ration, they noticed that something had happened to some of the canned food"
One of the soldiers handed him a can, and Tristan placed it in the middle of the table for all to see.
"This is what they saw"
They all looked at the still closed can and saw absolutely nothing.
"I just see a normal can" Arlan said after a cursory look.
"It's contaminated" the old man who had been silent and distant from the discussion suddenly said.
The old man got up from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to the table before picking up the can and opening it.
"Whatever's in the air is in the food now"
Arlan remembered the first day when Laurel had explained to him that the air seemed to be thicker, and many people were suffering because of it.
When Arlan got out of the crashed jet, he hadn't noticed it, maybe because of the state he was in or for some other reason. And now that the bunker was completely isolated from the outside, the air was constantly being run through an air purifier to reduce carbon dioxide, so there was no need to take in air from the outside.
As a result, the air inside the bunker was no different than before the change.
"About 80% of our food is in this condition" Tristan added as the old man examined the food.
The old man stuck his finger into the food and tasted it.
Everyone was surprised by the man's boldness, it was unknown if the change was toxic, but it was a high possibility.
The man chewed slowly before swallowing and then stood in silent contemplation.
After a few seconds, the man turned pale and clutched his neck before falling to his knees.
"Doctor Curtiss!"
Tristan rushed over to the man and helped him to his feet. The old man stuck out his tongue in an attempt to breathe, but without much success as his head fell to the side.
Tristan touched his neck with his fingers, searching for a pulse, and after a few seconds of pure tension, he spoke.
"He's just unconscious"