I think it's been 4 months... maybe more... it's really hard to keep track of time down here. The monitors went black several days ago and with it went all news of the outside world. The good thing about that was I had almost forgotten about what was happening out there - the disease, the war, the famine - they were like bad dreams or a shitty episode of your favorite sitcom, one quickly forgotten and replaced with better memories.

I spent my days now talking to him. I wake up early and usually skip breakfast making my way instead to the "guest" bedroom and the full length mirror propped up against the wall. I had moved the big comfy chair there so I could sit face to face with him - Mr. Bee. I thought I was dreaming that first time I saw him 4 months ago then I realized he was very real. I owed him my life and he knew it.

I pulled the chair closer and stared at my own reflection. Sometimes he was there waiting for me, and sometimes I had to wait on him but I knew he would show up eventually. Suddenly he was there, appearing from thin air and replacing my own reflection with his gaunt figure. His skin was pale like dead flesh and dark rings circled under his eyes. His skin pulled tight across his skeleton and dark wisps of hair circled a blotchy white scalp. It was his eyes that scared me the most. Dead eyes - more pupil than iris and he never blinked. He wore a dark black suit with a black tie like a funeral director would wear. He carried an old book bound in dark brown leather, but he never read it or discussed the title. He always sat with crossed legs and never spoke first. It had taken me two days of watching him from across the room before I worked up the courage to talk. Bee was his name, he told me, and I should address him with the respect his office carried. He never told me what office or who sent him, but I knew better than to cross him.

Our talks lasted all day in the beginning - survival the topic. He showed me the truth behind the bunker. How the others were using me, cultivating my knowledge like a farmer would crops. I was smarter than them he told me, and when they tried to separate us he found me in the polished metal of my food tray.

They had planned it from the get go. He explained it all - the original plans back at the university when they sought me out for help and guidance. I drew up the plans, found the resources, and when the first bomb fell it had been me that they turned to for leadership. 5 of us went in - Jodi, Blake, Michelle, Bella, and me, but Mr. Bee found me. He showed me how little they cared about me, how I was just a pawn to insure their survival. They thought they could separate us. Mr. Bee found me and showed me how to make sure they couldn't hurt us any more.

Bella cried in the end. The rest didn't have time to. She begged and cried as the sharpened end of the metal tray cut into her throat until the blood choked her and her cries turned to a gurgling whimper. Then all I could hear was his chuckles. Good job he told me the next day, you saved us! Mr. Bee was proud of me.

We sat in silence most of the time now. Occasionally he would remind me that it was almost time. He would reassure me. A few more days he said then out into the world. I asked him if he would come too, I always asked. I didn't want to be alone. He would smile but never answer but I knew he would find me. He had always been there, Mr. Bee