James returned to the pit with little fanfare. Ellie glanced up as he entered, her expression neutral but curious.

  "How'd it go?" she asked briefly.

  James grinned, “It was interesting, I've never been interrogated before.” Ellie huffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

  That was the end of it. They fell into silence, the dim oil lantern in the corner flickering against the damp stone walls. Minutes passed, stretching into what felt like hours, before the sound of the lock clicking broke the stillness.

  The heavy door creaked open, and in stepped Hawk—the man with the deep scar cutting across his face. He wore a ragged hoodie, its sleeves frayed at the edges, and had his rifle slung securely across his back. His sharp eyes swept over the three of them before he gave a curt nod.

  “Akil says you’re good to go. You’re free to move around the base—with a guard present. But when leaving, you’ll need to wear blindfolds.”

  James sprang up, grinning. "Really? That didn’t take too long."

  Hawk nodded. “We usually aren’t so trusting, but Peter vouched for you. Haven't seen that in a while. He must’ve seen something in you.” He said with a smile.

  Joel simply grunted in acknowledgment. Ellie raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, she’d thought she blew it.

  “Guess we made a good impression,” he said, nudging Ellie. She rolled her eyes but smirked.

  “Don’t get cocky,” Hawk warned, his tone light but firm, “People are still upset at you stirring up that horde.”

  James shuffled awkwardly and they stepped out of the pit and into the winding underground tunnels, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old concrete. Oil lanterns lined the walls, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Pipes lined the ceiling, some rusted, some newer, evidence of ongoing repairs.

  Hawk led the way, keeping an easy but deliberate pace. “I’ll be with you the whole time you’re here. You don’t leave my sight, or it’s back in the pit. Understood?”

  Ellie and James nodded. Joel remained silent, his usual stoic expression in place.

  Hawk took that as enough and continued. “Any questions you have, direct them to me.”

  That was all the invitation James needed—he exploded with words.

  "So, do all of you live underground like mole people? How long have you been here? What’s life like under a city? Is it all doom and gloom, or do you guys have, like, underground parties or something? How do you stay hidden from raiders? Do you have farms down here? How do you get food? What about water? Oh, and where do you get power? Generators? Solar panels? Do you have a medic? What happens if someone gets sick?

  Ellie snorted, watching in amusement as Hawk, clearly unprepared for the rapid-fire interrogation, tried to keep up.

  Hawk held up a hand. "Damn, kid. Slow down. One at a time."

  “Alright, fine. Do you all live underground?” James asked, still eager.

  Hawk shrugged. “Mostly. These tunnels go on for miles. Some are old subway systems, others maintenance tunnels or bunkers. We use the surface only when we have to. Staying below keeps us hidden.”

  "And food?"

  Hawk scratched at his scruffy chin. "Mushrooms, mostly. They’re easy to grow underground, don’t need sunlight, and we’ve got whole sections of the tunnels dedicated to farming them. They keep us fed. We also hunt when we can—deer, rabbits, whatever we can track in the city ruins and surrounding area. Meat’s rare, but it helps stretch supplies."

  James’ eyes widened. “Wait, you guys are farming fungus down here? Like… that’s your main food source?” He thought people would have an adversity to mushrooms given the current… circumstances but guess not.

  Hawk smirked. “Yeah. Not the most appetizing diet, but it keeps us alive. Hydroponics give us some greens, and we’ve got a few rooftop farms for variety—chickens, goats, small crops—but those aren’t reliable. Don't give enough food, and if someone finds them, we lose everything. The mushrooms, though? No one thinks to look for those.”

  "And water?"

  Hawk gestured toward a set of old pipes running along the ceiling. “We repurposed parts of the city’s municipal water system, patched it up, and ran it through old filtration units. The system's falling apart, but we keep it working. No showers, but it’s clean enough to drink.”

  James let out a low whistle. “Damn. You guys really are like mole people.”

  Hawk chuckled. “Call it what you want. But we’re alive.”

  "And medicine?"

  "We’ve got a medic. Supplies are scarce, but we stockpile what we can. Antibiotics, painkillers—stuff that doesn’t expire too fast. We trade when we have to."

  James glanced at Ellie, then at Joel, who remained quiet but observant.

  "And what's the endgame?" James asked, his tone more curious than confrontational. "You guys just gonna keep running this place forever? Or is there something bigger in mind?"

  Hawk exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "Survival’s the only endgame that matters."

  James tilted his head, considering that. "Yeah, maybe. But you gotta admit—this place is pretty damn impressive. People would kill for much less, what do you do when raiders come around?"

  Hawk’s expression didn’t change, but there was a certain weight behind his words. "We make sure they don’t walk away."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  James smirked. "Badass."

  Hawk glanced at him but then shook his head. "That doesn’t mean we kill everyone who finds us." He gestured around them. "You’re here, aren’t you? Not every outsider is a threat. Some are just lost. Some have something to offer. We take risks when they’re worth it."

  Joel, arms crossed, spoke up, his voice even but skeptical. "And you think you can pick and choose who finds you?"

  Hawk met his gaze without hesitation. "We only need to stay hidden from certain people. The ones looking to take what isn’t theirs."

  Joel studied him for a long moment. "That kind of thing only works for so long. Someone always comes back looking."

  Hawk gave a small nod, acknowledging the point. "That’s why we control the risks. We don’t trade often, and when we do, it’s on our terms. There are still some decent communities out there—distant, but worth keeping contact with. If we need something, we send a small team, make sure we don’t bring trouble back with us." He continued, "Raiders are predictable. They take what they can, kill who they have to, and move on. But they’re used to people running, not fighting back from the shadows. We don’t have open streets or flimsy walls. We’ve got tunnels, dead ends, choke points. If they make it inside, they don’t make it out."

  James' eyes sparkled, “So cool…”

  Ellie, who had been listening closely, leaned forward slightly. "So you actually trade with other people? What are they like?"

  Hawk shrugged. "Depends. Some are just trying to survive, like us. Others got their own systems, their own rules. We know a few folks running a fortified town out west, real organized, real careful. Then there’s another group living off the land—farmers, hunters, real self-sufficient types. But they’re far, so contact is rare. We only go when we have something worth trading, and even then, it’s a risk."

  Ellie nodded, clearly interested. "That’s… kinda smart, actually. You’re not just hiding. You’re building something."

  Hawk smirked. "Something like that."

  James let out a low whistle. "Man, you guys are living the dream. Underground bunkers, secret tunnels, guerilla warfare as your whole thing? That’s sick."

  Hawk chuckled. "If you say so."

  Joel remained quiet, watching Hawk carefully, but didn’t argue.

  The tunnels stretched on ahead, winding into the unknown.

  Finally, they reached The Lanterns’ base camp—a sprawling, dimly lit expanse that stretched deep into the underground. The moment they stepped in, the air shifted, carrying the faint scent of oil, damp concrete, and distant wood smoke. The entire space had been repurposed from what was once a massive underground parking garage into a hidden stronghold—a city beneath the city.

  The first thing he noticed was the movement—this place was alive. Dozens of people wove between makeshift structures, each occupied with some vital task. A group of scavengers unloaded crates of supplies near an old service elevator, while others repaired jury-rigged defenses, welding together metal scraps to reinforce weak points. Near the center, a group of survivors tended to clusters of mushrooms, their pale caps sticking up into the faint light.

  Throughout the garage, tarps and sheets of fabric had been stretched between old cars, propped up by scrap metal and wooden beams to form makeshift homes. Their homes were built from salvaged materials—tarps stretched between cars, wooden beams reinforcing small shacks, pieces of scrap metal repurposed into makeshift walls. Some shelters were nothing more than cots with curtains for privacy, while others had been built into fully enclosed rooms, offering something close to normalcy in the ruins of the old world.

  James even spotted one person that made the back of a broken down semi-truck into a home.

  Around the perimeter, defensive positions had been set up on the upper level—sniper nests and sandbag barricades, where armed guards stood vigilant, their silhouettes barely visible against the dim light filtering in from old floodlights and hanging lanterns. The glow of campfires and powered lamps cast long shadows on the walls, flickering against the rusted remains of abandoned vehicles. Some of those vehicles had been heavily armored, repurposed for both defense and travel, their exteriors reinforced with metal plating and barbed wire.

  In the center of the garage, a large communal area had been set up—an old oil drum burned low with a controlled fire, around which survivors gathered, speaking in hushed voices. Some sat on stacked crates, eating from salvaged tin cans, while others sharpened knives or cleaned weapons in preparation for whatever dangers lurked beyond their underground haven.

  Joel’s eyes traced the layout—there were multiple routes in and out, but each one was heavily monitored. A wide concrete ramp led lower, descending into an even deeper section of the garage and another ramp that led upward, possibly toward an alternative escape route or a higher level of the garage. Near the far wall, several reinforced doors stood slightly ajar, people moving in and out of tunnels—hauling supplies.

  The Lanterns had turned this place into something more than a refuge. It was organized, efficient, and well-defended—a stronghold in the heart of the ruins.

  Hawk turned to them with a serious frown, “You might not be able to see it, but everyone is tense.” he said, shooting a look to James, “The horde you stirred up has people in a frenzy, worried we might get hit, we've already had to deal with a couple of the stragglers.” he said gruffly, “Now we're doing our best to stay silent and get our defenses rock solid.”

  James shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… my bad.”

  Hawk gave him a pointed look but let out a sigh. “Just be mindful. We don’t get second chances down here.”

  He turned on his heel and continued walking, the group falling in behind him as they navigated deeper into the underground settlement. The sounds of voices, the occasional clang of metal against metal, and the rhythmic footsteps of the armed guards echoed through the cavernous space. The deeper they went, the more details of the Lanterns’ way of life revealed themselves.

  They passed by a section where people worked with focused intent. A man crouched over an old generator, adjusting wiring while muttering to himself. Nearby, two women were carefully taking apart a radio, salvaging components, possibly to repair another. A few feet away, a group sat at a long, makeshift table, meticulously sorting through bullets and gunpowder.

  Ellie leaned toward Hawk. “You guys reload your own ammo?”

  Hawk nodded. “When we can. We’ve got a few people who know how to repack shells, refill powder. Not perfect, but it keeps our weapons useful.” He nodded toward a workbench where a young woman was fashioning crude arrowheads from scrap metal. “Arrows are easier—quieter, reusable. A lot of us prefer them over guns.”

  Ellie watched the woman work, clearly intrigued. “Smart,” she muttered.

  James, meanwhile, was still absorbing everything with visible admiration. “This place is awesome.”

  Hawk gave a half-smile. “We try.”

  James laughed, “I can’t believe you guys were under me the whole time!” he said.

  They continued forward until the tunnel opened up into a sprawling section filled with more movement and energy than anywhere else.

  Rows of makeshift stalls lined the walls, with survivors gathered in small clusters, trading and bartering for supplies. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the earthy musk of mushrooms and something faintly spiced. A woman stirred a pot over a contained fire, ladling something thick and steaming into tin cups and passing them to people in exchange for batteries.

  “Welcome to the trade market,” Hawk said. “Scavengers bring in whatever they find. We barter for what we need. No money here—if it’s useful, it’s got value.”

  James’s eyes flicked over the array of supplies. Some stalls were packed with practical items—makeshift weapons, sharpened knives, modified firearms with jury-rigged attachments. Others offered food—jars of preserved mushrooms, dried meat, root vegetables that had likely come from their hydroponic farms or rooftop gardens.

  But it wasn’t all survival-focused. One stall displayed items that seemed almost out of place: carved wooden figurines, old books, knitted scarves, and crude but carefully made toys.

  James picked up a small, hand-carved wooden wolf from a table, turning it over in his hands. “Didn’t expect a gift shop.”

  The older man behind the stall gave him a tired look. “People need more than just food to survive.”

  James smiled softly and ran his thumb over the worn grain of the carving before setting it back down.

  Ellie, meanwhile, had stopped in front of another stall, examining a reinforced backpack. The fabric was patched in several places, but the stitching was tight, the straps thickly reinforced.

  “You guys actually make new stuff?” she asked.

  Hawk answered as the woman sitting behind the table continued her work, where she was carefully stitching together two pieces of fabric. “Repurpose, mostly. Nothing new in the world anymore.”

  Ellie gave a small nod, clearly impressed.

  Joel hadn’t said much as they moved through the market. His eyes never stopped moving, studying the layout. The Lanterns were smart about their security—sniper nests along the upper walkways, tight passageways acting as natural choke points, barricades strategically placed. The armed guards weren’t just standing around, either. They moved with intent, their eyes scanning the crowd, always watching.

  “You’ve got a good setup,” Joel muttered, his sharp eyes sweeping over the defenses. “Defensible.”

  Hawk gave a small nod. “That’s the idea.”

  Joel glanced at him. “You think it’s enough?”

  Hawk exhaled through his nose, arms crossing. “Enough to keep us alive. That’s all that matters.”

  Joel gave a slow nod but didn’t say anything else.

  Finally, he led them through another passage, into what was clearly a strategic planning room. The walls were lined with maps—routes, old city blueprints, scavenging paths, known raider movements. A long table sat in the center, covered in hand-drawn notes and rotation schedules for sentries and scouting missions.

  Joel stepped forward, scanning the maps. “You track raider movements?”

  Hawk nodded. “We have to. Some groups are starting to get desperate, making their way towards the city. We need to make sure we’re not in their path. All of our citizens are briefed on their actions before they go out to scavenge”

  James looked over the notes, tracing a finger over one of the routes marked in red. “Ever think about expanding? Taking more space?”

  Hawk smirked. “Expansion’s how people get killed. We hold what we can, nothing more.”

  Joel let out a low hum, his fingers tapping the edge of the table. “You got something good here.”

  Hawk smiled, but there was something hard behind his eyes, “And we’d do anything to keep it safe.”

  Joel stared back for a moment before nodding.

  Hawk looked around for a moment before nodding, “Alright, that's enough of the tour for now.” He said, turning around, “Come on, I’ll show you where you're staying.”