Jason eased himself into his chair at the breakfast table, his body still aching slightly from the fever. Two days confined to his bed had left him craving human interaction beyond the brief visits from his family members. The metallic scrape of his chair against the floor announced his presence, and four pairs of eyes turned toward him.
"Look who's rejoined the land of the living," Marissa said, her lips curving into a teasing smile.
Elaine placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. "How are you feeling, honey?"
"Better." Jason wrapped his hands around the warm mug. "Still a little weak, but the fever's gone."
"Good to have you back," Lily said, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Breakfast has been boring without your dumb jokes."
"Missed you too, squirt." Jason ruffled her hair, earning a half-hearted protest.
The atmosphere felt different—lighter somehow. Even with Richard sitting at the head of the table, absorbed in his tablet as usual, there was a warmth that hadn't been present before. Jason caught his mother's eye and saw something there he hadn't noticed in weeks: a quiet contentment.
Marissa passed him a plate of powdered eggs. "Eat up. You need your strength back."
"These actually smell good today," Jason said, taking a forkful.
"Mom found a new pack of spices in the back of the pantry," Lily explained. "Amazing what a little paprika can do."
They ate in cordial silence for a few minutes. Jason savored the small pleasure of food with actual flavor, watching his family. His father stayed isolated, yet the others had somehow grown closer through his illness.
Elaine set down her fork. "I've been thinking. The storage room is a complete disaster area. We should spend today getting it organized."
"God, yes," Marissa agreed. "I nearly killed myself trying to find extra blankets when Jason was shivering like a wet dog."
"I can help," Lily volunteered. "I'm good at organizing stuff."
"Jason?" His mother looked at him. "If you're feeling up to it."
He nodded. "Yeah, I could use the activity. Been in bed too long."
Everyone turned to Richard, who continued scrolling through his tablet. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Elaine cleared her throat.
"Richard? We could use your help too."
Richard glanced up briefly. "I've got work to do." His eyes returned to the screen, the conversation clearly over.
Elaine's smile tightened, but she recovered quickly. "Well, the rest of us will make a good dent in it, I'm sure."
———————❖———————
Three hours later, Jason stood in the doorway of the storage room, surveying the chaos. The room was larger than he remembered—a cavernous space with metal shelving units stretching from floor to ceiling, packed with cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and loose items seemingly placed at random. A fine layer of dust covered everything, dancing in the beams of the overhead fluorescent lights.
"Jesus," he muttered. "Did they just throw everything in here and hope for the best?"
"Pretty much," Elaine said, coming up behind him. She handed him a dust mask. "The ventilation in here isn't great."
Marissa and Lily joined them, each carrying cleaning supplies. They stood in a line, taking in the enormity of the task.
"Where do we even start?" Lily asked, her voice small.
Elaine clapped her hands together. "Divide and conquer. Lily, you start sorting through those boxes of clothes. Marissa, tackle the food supplies, check expiration dates. Jason, you're on equipment and tools."
"What about you?" Jason asked.
"I'll be the floater—helping wherever needed and keeping track of our inventory." She held up a clipboard. "Let's get to work."
They dispersed to their assigned areas. Jason pulled open a heavy metal cabinet filled with tools he couldn't identify. He sneezed as dust billowed into his face.
"Bless you!" three voices called out in unison.
He laughed, the sound echoing in the large room. "Thanks."
The work was tedious but oddly satisfying. Jason organized wrenches, screwdrivers, and other tools into labeled bins. Across the room, Lily had created a mountain of clothing sorted by size and type. Marissa stood on a stepladder, passing down canned goods to Elaine, who checked dates and organized them on a rolling cart.
"Hey, look at this!" Lily held up a faded t-shirt with a cartoon character. "Dad's old Ninja Turtles shirt. I can't believe he kept this."
"Your father was quite the collector," Elaine said, her voice softening with nostalgia.
"Oh my god," Marissa called out, holding up a plastic case. "Are these actual DVDs? Like, prehistoric Netflix?"
Jason walked over and took the case. "The Princess Bride. Classic."
"We should watch it tonight," Lily suggested, excitement brightening her face.
"Movie night's back on," Jason agreed, setting the DVD aside.
As the hours passed, the room slowly transformed. Neat rows of labeled bins replaced the chaotic piles. The floor emerged from beneath scattered items. Conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated by laughter and the occasional discovery that sparked a memory or joke.
"Hey, sick boy," Marissa called, struggling with a large metal box. "Want to prove you've got your strength back?"
Jason flexed dramatically. "Stand aside, weakling."
He moved to lift the box, grunting with effort. It was heavier than it looked. Marissa smirked as he strained.
"Not so easy, is it?"
"I'm still recovering," he protested, finally managing to hoist it onto a shelf.
"Sure, blame the fever," she teased, brushing past him close enough that he caught the scent of her shampoo.
By late afternoon, they'd made remarkable progress. The storage room looked almost unrecognizable—organized, labeled, and infinitely more functional. They stood in the center, admiring their work.
"We did good," Elaine said, pride evident in her voice.
Jason watched his mother wince again as she tried to straighten up. The hours of bending, lifting, and organizing had clearly taken a toll on her back. He remembered how she'd sat beside his bed during his fever, changing cool clothes on his forehead and making sure he drank enough water. The same hands that had cooled his fever now ached from hours of lifting.
"Mom, let me help you with that," he said, stepping forward. "You've been on your feet all day."
"It's nothing," she insisted, rubbing at her lower back with her fingertips. "Just getting old, I suppose."
"You looked after me for two days straight when I was sick. Let me return the favor. I don't mean to brag, but I give really good massages, just so you know."
Elaine hesitated, her expression caught between maternal instinct to refuse help and obvious discomfort.
"Really, it's fine—"
"Mom," Jason cut her off gently. "Let someone take care of you for once."
Marissa and Lily exchanged glances.
"He's right, Mom," Lily said. "You're always looking after everyone else."
Elaine's resistance crumbled. "Well... I suppose that would be nice." She brushed dust from her hands. "I should clean up first though. I'm filthy from all this."
"Go take a shower," Jason suggested. "It'll help loosen your muscles anyway."
She nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "I'll be in my room when I'm done."
As his mother left, Jason caught Marissa watching him with an unreadable expression. She quickly turned away, busying herself with a final box.
"I'm going to grab something to drink," Lily announced. "Anyone wants anything?"
Both Jason and Marissa declined, and soon Jason found himself alone in the storage room. He sat on a crate, suddenly aware of the quiet. The dust hung in the air like the thoughts he couldn't shake—suspended, stubborn, slow to settle.
His mind drifted to his mother's room, where he would soon be. It was just a massage…so why did it feel different? A knot formed in his stomach as he considered his hands on his mother's back, working out the tension in her muscles.
Don't make this weird, he told himself firmly. She's in pain. You're helping her. That's it.
But something had shifted inside him these past weeks. The bunker had changed them all, blurring boundaries that had once seemed fixed and certain. He'd noticed things about his mother he'd never seen before—her quiet strength, her sadness, the way her smile could transform her face when it was genuine.
Jason rubbed his face with his hands. It was just a massage. Nothing more.