38 minutes

A/N: I skipped some time because I don't have the time or patience to write 45 chapters.

Asher wondered how long it would be before he could come out of the shelter. His hover had arrived with forty-one minutes to go, and he had no way of contacting his parents. Now, with only thirty-six minutes until the bomb hit, he struggled to think of something happy. Even though he knew he would die if the bomb hit and he wasn’t in the shelter, he would rather be anywhere else right now. Asher imagined himself walking along the long path up to the outdoor basketball court in town. He would be with his brothers, teasing them and seeing who could run to the court and back fastest. He really could almost feel the ball and smell the lingering sweat as he imagined himself back at home, putting the basketball back in his garage. He walked back to his room, wondering what was for dinner, when a sharp, jarring sound cut through his visions. His phone was ringing, but it was a number he didn’t know. He picked it up cautiously.

“Hello? I think you’ve got the wrong number.” He said.

“Asher!” A voice he hadn’t heard in ten years greeted him. “Look behind you!”

“What?” He replied.

He turned around, not willing to believe his ears. The man standing behind him was vaguely familiar.

“Dad?”