Proverbs 16:18

Willie wrapped his finger around the trigger and pulled it...

...because his thumb was on the hammer. He slowly guided it back to its resting position. “Rudolph, open the cellar and make sure it is empty.” Using the gun, he gestured to Albert to stand up. “Follow him into the cellar.”

There was nothing Albert could do but obey. He was paraded down the shelter like a prisoner on death row. Everyone was quiet and somber yet their eyes told Albert everything he needed to know: he was inferior and subhuman to them.

Once they arrived at the cellar door, Willie smacked Albert in the back of head with the butt of his gun. Albert hit the cold, gray cement floor hard and grimaced in pain.

Rudolph was taken aback. “Why’d you do that?”

Willie scoffed, “You can’t be too careful when it comes to Imitations.”

Rudolph slowly moved to shut the door.

Willie stopped him. “I didn’t say you could close the door.” He gestured to Rudolph to enter the room. “Come on, into the cellar you go.”

“You’re putting me with him?”

“You’re the one that wanted to save it. If it isn’t an Imitation, you’ll be alive once the DDD arrives. If it is one... oh well.”

“I don't want to die to an Imita—”

Willie pointed the gun at Albert’s head again and cocked the hammer, rotating the barrel. “Either you enter the cellar, or it gets two to the brain. C’mon Rudolph, you wanted me to show a little mercy.”

Rudolph didn’t budge.

Willie’s finger curled around the trigger.

He still didn't budge.

“Last chance.”

He still didn't budge.

“Alright, it's your fault now.” Willie pulled the trigger...

...but a click came from the gun.

Rudolph took a deep sigh. “I didn't hear you rotate the barrel back.”

Willie gave a malicious grin. “You’re at least using your only strength: situational awareness.” His trigger finger loosened slightly. “You pass. Now, shut the door before it attacks us.”

“R-Right.” He shut the door, sealed it, and headed to his sleeping spot, leaving Albert all alone in the cellar.

* * *

Willie picked up the phone and dialed the DDD.

An operator picked up. “This is Diana,” a girly—yet monotone—voice said, “from the Department of Domestic Disturbances. How may I help you?”

“I'm calling to report that we have captured an Imitation,” he said.

“...I didn't get that. Could you say it one more time?”

“We...have...captured...an...Imitation,” he grumbled.

“...I didn't get that. Could you say it one more time?”

He rubbed his eyebrows and sternly said, “We have an Imitation, damnit.”

“Please hold on while we process your request.” Classical music started playing.

“Due to the ongoing aerial bombing, there are no available Sanitation crews to process your request. We are very sorry for this inconvenience. Would you like to explore alternatives?”

Willie sighed. “Yes,” he dejectedly replied.

The phone went silent again. Then, it said, “Due to the ongoing aerial bombing, there are no available alternatives. If it is a genuine emergency, please dial 331. Thank you for your pa—”

He slammed the phone into the receiver and shouted, “Goddamnit!”

“Let me try,” said Rudolph, trying to calm Willie.

He scoffed, “Sure, but you'll get the same result: nothing.”

“I’ll call anyway.”

He walked away and waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever you say. As for me, I'm going to get some sleep; I'll call them tomorrow.”

Rudolph picked up the phone and pressed the keypad ten times.

* * *

There are two metallic shelves with ten boxes of food and six large gallons of water total. Albert was sitting down on the wall furthest from the sealed door to freedom. The walls surrounding me are impossible to penetrate, and the door swings outward.

He looked up and saw a single glowing, but slightly weak, lightbulb. He stood up and, for the third time, decided to peruse through the shelves to find something of value. This time around, however, Albert spotted something in his periphery.

“Is that...?” he muttered. He stretched his hand deep into the shelf and firmly gripped the unknown object. He slowly retracted his arm, being careful not to knock down any of the boxes. He gauged that the camouflage-colored, light nylon pouch was slightly bigger than his palm.

Once the pouch reached the light, Albert read the label: SEWING KIT. He walked to the back of the cellar and unzipped the pouch. It contained two small spools of jade-green thread, three safety pins, a few buttons, six thin needles, and a tiny pair of razor-sharp scissors.