The aroma of freshly popped buttered popcorn filled the living room. Settling beside me on the couch, Dad offered the bowl. My stomach turned, but I took a handful to be polite. After all, this wasn’t the microwaved stuff. It was air-popped the old fashioned way—a luxury since the food rationing had begun.

“It’s supposed to be airing at eight o’clock eastern time. That makes it five o’clock here, right?” my twin brother, Asher, asked. He sat on the other side of Dad and bounced his leg nervously, threatening to shake popcorn kernels out of the bowl.

I shot him a look. “Yes. You’ve googled it like ten times already.”

“I was just checking, okay? Relax.”

My dad’s mellow voice cut across our sniping. “Yes, the lottery’s airing at five.” He glanced at the living room clock on the wall. “T-minus two minutes.”

Asher let out a long, gusty sigh. His leg resumed bouncing.

In the interest of keeping peace in the house, I ignored him. Usually Asher and I were pretty close, but this…this was a stressful night.

Silence fell over our tiny family, broken by the sound of us mindlessly munching popcorn. I didn’t taste a single kernel.

“It’s probably rigged,” Asher blurted. “Just watch. They’re going to show us all fake-ass names, and then fill the SAFEsites with celebrities and anyone else who can buy their way in.”

“Have a little faith,” Dad said before I could tell Asher to knock off his doom and gloom. “The SAFEsites are real, and they’ll want to have as much genetic diversity as possible to jumpstart the population after the Long Winter is over.”

The Long Winter. That was government approved speech straight from a FEMA pamphlet on preparing your household for the apocalypse. It sounded so much nicer than ‘nuclear winter’ or ‘extended freezing event’, which basically was an instant ice-age that would be so deep and last so long that it would kill all people, plant-life, and anything larger than a bug on Earth…if the impact from the asteroid didn’t do it first.

Unless you were lucky enough to be chosen to go to a SAFEsite, of course.

The SAFEsites were underground, self-sustaining bunkers scattered around the United States. Other countries had their own methods of saving portions of their population and cultural heritage. This was ours.

If lucky enough to be chosen to go to a SAFEsite, your chance at death was reduced to if the asteroid landed right on top of you. Or if the predicted worldwide tsunami flooded you out…or if the starving masses left in the aftermath clawed their way in.

Either way, you were better inside a SAFEsite than out. Probably.

My attention returned to the TV. Tonight’s lottery to choose the lucky families was being broadcasted simultaneously with the actual draw happening regionally. That meant our local stations would only show our region’s results and not, say, New York.

California had three SAFEsites. North, south, and central. We lived in the Bay Area, so if we were chosen to be saved tonight, ours would be central.

Currently, the TV showed a long block of commercials. I wanted to know who in their right mind was going to buy a brand new car with only a year left to live.

Then again… not a bad idea. It wasn’t like you had to worry about paying it off. If I had my license, I’d be tempted.

“What if we get in?” I asked without thinking. Oh well. Too late to back out now.

“We live,” Asher said. “Duh.”

In answer, I threw a kernel of popcorn behind my father’s back. It hit the side of Asher’s head and stuck in his hair.

He scowled and pawed it away.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. Being the only girl in the household sucked sometimes. I didn’t want to come off as weak, so I didn’t dare tell them that every time I imagined starving, dying crowds trying to force their way into the SAFEsite, I wanted to cry. Sometimes, I dreamed about being the one to hold a door shut against people begging to be let in. “We’ll have to leave everyone we know behind to die.”

“Yes, we will.” My dad was a captain in the Coast Guard and never shied away from harsh truths. Today, I wished he had. But he wasn’t done yet. “The lottery officials will only show the head of household’s initials and the last four digits of his or her social security numbers. Do you know why that is, Astrid?”

“How do you know that?” Asher asked. “I never heard that.”

Dad hesitated. “All head of households were informed.”

That didn’t sound quite right, but Dad was waiting for my answer. It was obvious, once I thought about it. Also, completely depressing. “Because anyone who gets picked will be a target.”

Dad nodded. “When a man is drowning, he can easily drag his rescuer down with him.” He fixed us with a look. “If we are lucky enough to be chosen tonight, it does not leave this room. You will not speak about it—not to anyone, not even to each other unless you are absolutely certain you are alone in this house. Got it?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Asher and I nodded.

God, this sucked.

“It’s fine, Dad,” Asher said, snagging an obnoxiously large handful of popcorn. Ugh, it was like he didn’t care about the rationing at all. He stuffed half in his mouth before continuing. “We won’t get picked any way.”

Now it was Dad’s turn to throw a piece of popcorn at Asher’s head. “Think positive.”

He cracked a smile. “Okay, I’m positive that we won’t—”

“Shh!” I pointed to the TV, which cut the car commercials and now showed a blank, blue screen. “It’s starting.”

A moment later, the emergency broadcast tone went off. Even during the times when the stations were only running a mandatory test, it never failed to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.

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Once the piercing tones were over, simple lines of text scrolled up the screen while a robotic voice read along. I had half-expected to see the president give a speech, but no one had seen or heard from that guy in weeks.

The text was an outline of what my dad had told us nearly word-for-word: the lottery would display the head of household’s initials followed by the last four digits of their social security number. Those who were chosen would be contacted by their state or local representative within the following weeks. Each head of household would be issued three additional tickets for family members to join them at the SAFEsite.

That meant if Dad was chosen, there would be a ticket to spare. I’d like to hope it would go to someone with a family of five. My friend, Lydia, had three younger sisters. If her family was picked tonight…well. Some hard decisions would have to be made.

Or maybe Asher was right. The extra ticket would go to the highest bidder.

The robotic voice finished, and the TV went silent as the last of the text vanished.

Then the initials of the chosen began scrolling upward. Breathless, we all leaned forward to read.

Dad’s full name was Aaron Mitchell Butler. A.M.B. So no matter if the list went by first or last name, we wouldn’t have to wait for long.

“Do you see…?” I asked, eyes flicking over the A’s and B’s again and again before the list could fully disappear off the screen.

Dad’s heavy voice fell like a lead weight. “No.”

Oh no. No, no, no…

Asher swore and stood up. “This is so stupid!” He strode toward the front door.

I stood as well, knees shaky. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out.”

“Asher!” Dad barked. “Get back here!”

But the front door had already slammed shut.

My dad sighed, sitting back and rubbing his temples.

Blinking away tears, I sank back onto the couch and leaned forward, elbows propped on my knees. “He’s probably just going to the beach.”

I loved to surf, but Asher lived for it. Chances were, if he wasn’t in school, he was in the water. Sometimes even when he should have been in school, he was still in the water.

“He should blow off some steam,” Dad agreed.

We went silent as the list of names scrolled on. We were only seeing the local results based on our viewing area, but there still seemed to be a lot. I read through the initials dully, imagining the happy families who were celebrating right now.

“There’s still a chance the tactical warheads will come through,” Dad said. “I’m certain the Pentagon will be firing everything we have at at the asteroid.”

I nodded, but my throat felt too thick to speak.

This is it, I thought. I’m not going to graduate high school. I won’t live to see eighteen years old.

Assuming the combined efforts of NASA, the European and Chinese Space Agencies, and all the world’s thoughts and prayers didn’t knock the asteroid off its course, it would impact Earth in just under a year.

“We’re going to be okay,” Dad said.

I nodded again and agreed because I knew I was supposed to. “Yeah.”

A sharp cracking sound split the air, coming from down the street. I flinched, then lurched to my feet. Was that a gunshot?

Terrified for my brother, I started toward the door. My hand touched the doorknob just as I heard a louder boom followed by an obnoxious whistle.

I dropped my hand, shivering as the rush of adrenaline tapered off. No, that hadn’t been gunfire. My neighbors were using the lottery as an excuse to set off their cache of fireworks.

Unlike me, my dad hadn’t rushed for the door. He had calmly walked to the nearest window to look out. Tugging the curtain back into place, he turned away with a sour expression. “I’d call the police, but they’re going to be too busy with idiots tonight to deal with noise complaints.”

The TV had scrolled entirely through the list of names. Now, a final message appeared: the executive branch of the government was instituting martial law effective immediately. Curfew would begin at ten o'clock every night, with exceptions made for emergency and governmental travel only. All efforts were being made to extend the country’s remaining fuel and food reserves.

The words didn’t mean much, considering no one had bothered to give the speech in person. Asher had joked that the president had already locked himself in a SAFEsite. Maybe he was right.

Just then, my dad’s cellphone rang.

He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and sighed. “It’s my Commander.”

“Don’t answer it,” I pleaded.

But of course he did. He always did. He sent me a pinched, apologetic look before he swiped to answer.

“Captain Butler here.” A pause. “Yes, sir.” Longer pause. “Yes, I understand.”

Dad was being called to work. I turned away, mouth turning down. It wasn't a surprise. He never dated after Mom died—he’d always been married to the job.

I shook my head, biting my lip hard to keep back the prickle of tears. I was seventeen-years-old, but at that moment I felt like a little girl again; sad and helpless as my dad left Asher and I all alone in a house that was too big and too empty.

Dad hung up. “They’re recalling all active duty personnel. I have to report back to the base immediately.” Then he noticed how upset I was. He frowned. “Astrid, you know I don’t have a choice.”

Yes, you do, I thought fiercely. We’re all going to be dead in less than a year. Who cares if you don’t show up this once?

As usual, I couldn’t find it in myself to say what I was thinking. Asher would have. He was always the more outspoken of the two of us. Maybe he knew that this had been coming, and he’d decided to take off first for once, before Dad could.

I didn’t speak my mind, but I didn’t give Dad an answer either. Silently, I turned away and sat back on the couch.

Heaving a sigh, Dad stood and walked to his bedroom.

I stayed in the living room, a couch pillow clutched to my chest, and stared blankly at the television. The car commercials had restarted.

My father returned a few minutes later dressed in his uniform and carrying a slim, dark firebox he kept in his closet. He placed it on the coffee table and opened it with a key. “I want you to keep this with you tonight.”

I knew what it was the moment I saw the box, but my breath still caught as he pulled out a handgun. I didn’t have a lot of experience with guns—I’d only fired this one a couple of times, and that had been years ago.

“Dad…”

“If anything happens, lock yourself in the bathroom and call the police, and then me. In that order. I want your cell phone in your pocket, and the gun within arm’s reach at all times.” Keeping the muzzle firmly down, he showed me the little catch on the back. “This is the safety. Make sure it’s off if you have to fire.”

“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped, temper flaring.

“No,” he said steadily, his ice-blue eyes looking into mine. They were the exact same shade as my own. “But with things the way they are…well, I’ll feel better if I knew you could defend yourself tonight.”

“And I’d feel better if you stayed at home,” I said before I could catch myself. The flash of pain in his eyes made me regret my words, but I didn’t take them back.

“You know I can’t do that.”

Yes, you can! People take sick days all the time! But what I said was, “Do you think something will happen?”

He paused. “I think people are angry and scared right now, and it’s important that you have the ability to protect yourself. Your brother should be home soon.”

If our positions were reversed, Dad wouldn’t be telling Asher to lock himself in the bathroom if he heard a scary noise. He was allowed to go out and ‘blow off steam’ because he was a boy and could be expected to take care of himself.

Meanwhile, I was told to stay put like a good little girl.

“I should be back before you get home from school tomorrow,” Dad said.

“Whatever,” I replied, knowing he wouldn’t. When he was called in like this, he was never gone for less than three days.

Child Protective Services would have a fit if they knew.

Dad frowned at my tone, but turned toward the door. He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he were having second thoughts for once. Then he was gone.

Just like that, less than a half hour after I learned I would die in less than a year, I was alone in my house with a cell phone in one hand, a gun in the other.

I stayed like that for a half hour, listening my neighbors shoot more fireworks into the air and cheering as they blew up. They already sounded drunk.

BANG.

A huge boom shook the windows, followed by yet another ear-piercing whistle. Wow. Those fireworks were neither safe nor sane.

So far, I had mostly felt numb and a little sorry for myself. Now a small flame of anger sparked to life inside me.

I stood. “Screw this.”

If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to spend one more minute cowering in this house. Not when the ocean was calling me.

Stuffing the gun and phone in the big front pocket of my hoodie, I walked out the front door.