The rising sun slides its beams over my face and I squint and groan as it wakes me up. One arm defending me from the nefarious sunlight, I roam around with the other for my phone, though my search procures nothing.

“Window, uh shut, close, whatever,” I mumble towards the window-wall, having forgotten to close it last night.

The segments of plating slide back into place over the wall, banishing the sun behind them. The expected darkness never comes, as hand-sized squares of light brighten on the roof above me, filling the room with dim white light.

Not exactly what I had in mind, but at least the artificial light is far kinder to my eyes. I continue my search for my phone, bumping into various Fathom-tech machines along the way.

I spot my phone attached to one of the walls, a piece of wall folded out like a small table holds it and a cord from beneath the table plugs into the port of my phone.

“Aw sweet, I was worried it would be mega dead this morning,” I say to the air, unplugging and picking up the device.

The cord reels back into the wall and the flap that was holding my phone folds back down, once again a seamless part of the wall and I have no idea whether it's always there, or generated on the spot. I click open my phone, the screen lighting up into the logo of a spinning pinwheel as it boots, and I can't help but wonder what the Vanguard who made it is like.

Do they live here? I know it’s probably dumb of me to assume they live here rather than any of the other cities, but we are probably the most technologically advanced considering we got rebuilt nearly from scratch.

My idle thoughts fade away as the pinwheel fades away and my phone connects to the tower's signal, the flood of notifications finally hitting my phone. I make an audible hiss through my teeth as I inhale, the missed calls already at twenty-four and increasing as the data arrives.

Clicking on the app, I wait a few seconds as it loads up, it being clearly displeased to be worked this hard as it wakes up. Scrolling through the missed calls, most of them seem to be from Mom, though both Dad and Victor tried a few times.

Sydney, bless her heart, called almost as much as Mom, and if I had to guess she’s the reason my text messages have reached the triple digits. Catherine mentioned that they contacted my family and told them I’m within the ranks of the living, but I doubt they reached out to all my friends, hopefully, my brother told Sydney at least.

They used to date, so it's really awkward when they see each other at our place, but they don’t hate each other or anything.

Grunting as I stand up from the squatting position I was in, I move back towards the cloud bed to be more comfortable as I read my hundred-plus messages.

‘Go to the shelter, they’ll have a Vanguard there.’

‘Did you make it?’

‘Are you safe?’

‘Brooke honey please respond’

I feel a tightness in my chest as I read through my mom's messages. I can see her panic and despair grow as she sends each one hourly, hoping I’d eventually respond.

I start to choke up, and If I didn’t wreck my tear ducts yesterday I’m sure I’d be bawling already. Scrolling down near the bottom, I see her final messages after she was informed of my survival.

‘Hey Peanut, I’m not even sure if you have your phone right now but the Vanguard showed up to inform us that you’re doing alright but you got roughed up pretty bad.

I’m so sorry I left you in that car Brooke, I can’t imagine what you had to go through and it’s all my fault. I’m so glad you’re safe.’

‘We love you so much, sweetie. They didn’t tell us the extent of your injuries but just know we’re here for you the entire way. Hope to see you soon. XOXO’

Despite my earlier thoughts on the number of tears I had left, I find myself sniffling and wiping my eyes. It’s just like her to blame herself when I’m the one who insisted on staying in the car. I move to some of the other messages, hopefully, better emotionally prepared.

‘Be strong. I believe in you.’

‘Glad ur OK, Mom told me what happened. ill have pickles and peanut butter ready when u get home

‘Support frog 🐸’

I laughed, his nonsense catching me off guard even though I had every reason to expect it. I’m so glad he and Mom were okay during all this, I’m not sure how I or Vic would have coped otherwise.

I remember seeing the haunted looks on some of the kids' faces who had lost one or both parents ten years ago. I blink, banishing the train before it can leave the brain station. My loved ones are alive, I can’t dwell on the what-ifs right now.

I flip open the unread messages from Victor, still mentally preparing myself for Sydney's barrage.

‘Did you make it to the shelter? If you get this, I’ve got friends there looking for you. Look for Ryan or Dominic.’

‘Your phone had better be dead, B.’

‘I swear to the Old ones, if you got yourself killed I’ll kill you myself.’

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘Please be alive, Brooke. Mom and pops are falling apart and Sydneys harassing me every

quarter-hour as if I know any more than she does.’

‘You shitter, I can't believe you let us find out you survived via a Vanguard instead of a message. Mom thought we were getting a priority mail Brooke-in-a-box when the Dude showed up at the door.’

‘I’m going to eat every pickle in this house. Out of spite.’

My face actively twitches from the emotional whiplash my brother's slew of messages gives me; And though I resist the urge to reply immediately to his taunt, I fear deeply for my snacks.

“Your family seems kind, it’s interesting to see the various ways they show concern,”

Roosevelt says from behind my shoulder, scaring me bad enough my phone slips out of my hands for a second.

“Gah!” I yell, having forgotten my brain was now a condo. “You, I- sorry, I forgot I wasn’t alone. But yeah, I love 'em to death. We’ve been especially close ever since the Old Tide hit the city. It’s hard to not be thankful for your loved ones when everyone around you lost theirs.”

“Apologies, Vanguard Silo had no love for silence, and my habits from my tenure as his contractor seem to ‘die hard’ as it were. If you would prefer I remain silent save for when addressed or in emergency situations, I can easily adjust.”

“What? No! Roosevelt, I’m so sorry, that wasn’t how I meant that at all!” I rush to assure him, setting my phone down and sitting up to better focus on him.

“Your presence has been nothing but a comfort, I would be so much more freaked out without you here. Whatever situation you had worked out with Silo, I want to try and have for us too. Unless he was a toilet talker. I’m cool with most things, but not that.”

“If that is what you wish, I will continue to provide my thoughts as before. If you have a change of heart, let me know.”

His aloof attitude doesn’t fool anyone, I can tell just how relieved he is through our contract after all. I deign not to tease him about it, though I’m sure he can sense my smugness too based on the way his cute little ‘w’ shaped eyes avoid mine.

Flopping back onto the pillows, I grab my phone to finish seeing who cared if I was alive or dead during my absence. A few names I didn’t expect to show up, but they mostly seem out of… not obligation, but like just to be considerate or, like, as a headcount to see who didn’t make it.

I still appreciate it, don't get me wrong, and it's better than the “Rest in Peace.” I got from one dude in my microbiology class, but it still feels weird. I decide to just mark those ones as read without opening them, mostly because I don’t feel like dealing with it, but also because I love the idea of showing up to class after being presumed dead. I open up my dm’s with Dominic, still postponing Sydney's flood of text.

“Hey Brooke, me and Ryan are in the Main bunker looking for you. Let us know where your at when you get this.”

“Earth to Brooke??”

“Oops, I totally forgot Victor said you don’t have your phone or something. Brain fart.”

Pinching the bridge of my brow for a moment, I remember that his elevator doesn’t quite make it to the top floor. He’s not a bad guy, not by any means. In fact, I’d say he’s one of the more empathetic people I know. He’s the type to remember the date of everyone's birthday, but not know what day of the week it is when he wakes up in the morning.

I’m also pretty sure he caught feelings, which puts me in a kind of annoying situation since he’s with my brother more often than not. I blow some of the hair that fell onto my face to the side, letting my frustrations go with it.

“Brooke! Are you inside somewhere? The dome's down and people are saying it's the Old Tide all over again”

“My family was having dinner at the time, so we’re safe in the complex as long as this doesn’t last too long.”

“I called your phone like twelve times, what's going on? It rang so I know it's not dead, are you okay?”

“Victor said you were outside when the dome fell?? Brooke, you need to pick up I’m freaking out”

“I’m going to harass you until you respond, you’re not allowed to be gone”

“I can’t lose you too, B. Please be safe.”

I purse my lips. Guilt squeezes my chest for making Sydney panic like this. She sent nearly fifty messages, her fear of losing me lacing them all. I remember when she finally warmed up to me and told me about her experience in the previous tide.

She had been home sick that day, and as incredibly thankful as I am for that, her middle school was one of the ones attacked and she had lost everything. My throat tightened at the thought of nearly making her go through that again.

“Your brother told me you’re okay!”

“I’m so glad, I was so scared Broike”

“Brooke*”

“Ugh, I’m such a mess.”

“Vic says he doesn’t know the details, just that a Vanguard dropped by to let them know you were alive and to pick up some essentials for you.”

“I’m sure whatever happened must have been horrible and traumatic, I’ll be here with you all the way, okay?”

“I was going to send a voice message, but my dad says I should try to avoid overstimulating you after all that. I love you! Call me when you’re doing alright <3”

I let my phone flop forward onto my chest as I pressed my palms against my eye sockets, the pressure helping to distract me from the emotions wracking my brain.

I know it might be backward to feel so much guilt when I’m the one who nearly died, but the idea of Sydney stuck in her condo having no idea what happened to me after all she’s been through is heartbreaking.

I’ll have to find a way to make it up to her when I’m more... Sorted out. Speaking of, I have no idea how long I’ll be here or what I’ll have to do now that I’m a Vanguard. Will I even have enough time to hang out with my family and friends?

You don’t exactly see Vanguard at the bowling alley unless there's some promotional bullshit going on.

“Hey uh, Roosevelt?” I question towards the light above me, not sure where to look when addressing him.

“Yes, Vanguard?”

“What does a Vanguard do? Like I know they fight the Fathom and all that, but it can’t just be a constant struggle can it? Are Vanguard able to live normal lives outside of their work? I’m kind of worried I literally sold my soul here”

“An excellent question! And one we would have gone over already had your ascension not been as bizarre as it was. Technically, if we stretch the words of our contract to their limits, your only required action as a Vanguard is to work towards the betterment of humanity and ensure its survival.

This can be as minor as helping in emergencies and doing community service! That said, it is slightly frowned upon to be given gifts as great as these and not do anything substantial with them.

As for your question of whether or not Vanguard can live normal lives, yes! As an organization, we strive to keep our members mentally healthy, and constant paranoia is antithetical to that.

Many even continue their current lives and keep their identities as Vanguards secr- One moment, it seems that someone waits outside with some of your personal effects.”