Masks

River and Finn studied the plan in detail all day.

At dinnertime, the boys gathered again at the table, after choking down Spaghetti-Os and stale cookies from an old tin. Under the harsh neon lights, the food sat like lead in their stomachs. Nobody said a word about the nausea; it wasn’t worth wasting breath.

Nima was slumped on the couch, spent. After endless failed attempts at walking, he’d finally surrendered to Raven’s insistence that he take a break. While he rested, Raven and Cove scoured the bunker for anything that might pass as a weapon or protective gear. Raven was almost insulted at being paired with Cove, and Cove was terrified for the entire ordeal, but in the end, the uneasy partnership worked. Pipes, flashlights, makeshift clubs, even a couple of kitchen knives: by the time they were done, they had more than either expected.

Meanwhile, Sage alternated between sleep and light chores, punctuated by a few chess matches with Cove. She exaggerated her mistakes just to see him frown in concentration and carefully explain the same rules again. Later, she and Nima drifted into a nap together on the couch, their hug so natural it was almost childlike.

By the time they were all back at the table, the air felt heavier than before. A silence stretched until River glanced at Finn, who gave him a small nod. River stood, cleared his throat, and launched in.

“So, before the actual plan, we need to talk about the, uh… selection eutheria.”

“I think you mean criteria,” Sage corrected, amused.

River frowned. “Yeah, that, whatever.”

Finn blinked. “How do you even know the word eutheria but not criteria?”

“Jeez, okay, you’re so much smarter than me,” River muttered, without much heat. He waved his hands. “As I was saying, the criteria that decided why everyone else got fucked and we didn’t. Or fucked in a different way, at least.”

Finn took over. “We all know the basics: we’re eighteen, we’re boys, we’re from the same city. Those are the obvious common factors.”

River nodded and straightened dramatically. “And… we might share another thing.” He cleared his throat. “I AM GAY!”

Raven choked on his iced tea. The others stared. Finn rubbed his temples and shook his head quickly.

“What he means,” Finn said carefully, “is that maybe we all share the same orientation.”

“Do we?” River looked around eagerly. “Are y’all gay?”

The silence was excruciating. Cove went pale, Raven’s glare could’ve been used on a horror movie poster, Nima stared at the wall in second-hand embarrassment, and only Sage looked vaguely entertained.

“…That’s not something we’ll ever ask you to confirm,” Finn said, laughing nervously, and put a firm hand on River’s shoulder to quiet him down. “But if it were true, it raises questions. For instance: if the goal is to preserve the human race, why choose six boys?”

“Maybe preservation isn’t the goal,” Nima said softly.

“Then what is it?” asked Cove, his face still flushed.

River shrugged. “The papers mentioned ‘reserved criteria’ or whatever. We don’t know, and maybe we never will.”

Finn’s voice grew steadier. “The point is, we can’t assume our families are here, or anywhere nearby. And I didn’t want to hide that from you. If we escape, we may not find them. Are you still in?”

The silence that followed was thick. Finally, Nima nodded. “If anything happened to my family, I want to know.”

Raven leaned back, arms crossed. “I just want to get the fuck out. How are we gonna do that, freckles?”

Finn ignored the jab and unfolded a sheet of paper he’d been scribbling on all day. Messy notes and arrows crisscrossed the page like a crude battle map. He flattened it on the table.

“First problem: the air. We don’t know how toxic it still is. Walking out without protection could kill us in hours. So when Han comes, I’ll ask him for three gas masks, as Cove suggested earlier. Three looks like we need them for maintenance work, suspicious but plausible. And three we can rotate if we have to.”

River grinned. “Finally, you’re learning how to lie. Makes me proud.”

Finn didn’t bite. He tapped another line. “Second: gear. Raven and Cove already collected a stash. Pipes, flashlights, knives. We’ll also bring the first aid kit, we can’t risk injuries untreated out there. I’ll try asking Han for a few more things, under the excuse of Nima’s rehabilitation.”

Nima raised his hand weakly. “Glad I finally have a purpose in this story.”

A ripple of chuckles passed around the table, breaking the tension for a moment.

“Last part,” Finn went on, “the door. We can’t open it from inside. That means we need whoever is here instead of Han when he doesn’t visit. If they let us help with something, or need to run some sort of inspection, that’s our window. Once the door is open -”

“We take them down,” River interrupted.

Raven cracked his knuckles. “Or we just take this Han guy down. He’s one guy. We’re six.”

Finn bristled. “You have no sense of gratitude, do you? Han’s the only one who’s showed us a bit of humanity. Without him, we wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Gratitude doesn’t open doors.”

The table went quiet again, the weight of the plan hanging over all of them. They could almost hear the hum of the neon lights drilling into their skulls.

Finally, Sage spoke, her voice gentle but firm. “Then we’ll just have to be ready. For whichever way it goes.”

The others nodded slowly, one after another, until even Raven leaned back with a grunt of reluctant agreement.

The plan wasn’t perfect. It was dangerous, desperate, riddled with ifs. But for the first time, it was a plan.

And that was enough.