The voice of the broadcaster was lost to my hearing as I shuttled around. Nicki's bag wasn't packed. Dave's prescription wasn't complete. If I'm to last a week in hiding with them, those pills must be complete and those bags stuffed.

Going over the list I made last night, I found many items unticked and by the time Nicki was done bathing her little brother, my list was complete. All that was left was a smooth sail across the volcanic highway.

The same highway where some of my husband's pieces remain.

Seeing Vincent disappear into intangible components had driven me insane. But I had two kids who depended on me. Children who are unaware their father is gone.

I hurried them into their father's truck and drove away. All along, I prayed they wouldn't ask me about him yet. 

How do I explain it? How do I tell Dave his daddy wasn't going to drive him to the children's park anymore? What about my angel daughter?

I must get them to safety, and the only place I could think of, was my father's bunker.

My heart skipped intermittently while on the highway. Every little sound went off in my hearing like a bomb. Each time it happened, the images of the last of my husband would flood my eyes.

We survived the war and throughout our time in hiding, my kids never asked for their father. 

I was bothered. He loved  and guarded them like a papa bear.

So, I called them into my arms and unbuttoned my heart.

They were strangely quiet. Like still waters, they were unreadable.

" You knew?" I gasped.

“ Nicki said it would hurt you if I asked.”

I whipped my head towards her. “ How long have you known?”

She paused, and held my hand. “From the day you came home alone.”

Years later, I would still remember the tenderness in their eyes. It became my bunker from that particular memory that haunts the rest of my days.