“I had the dream again last night, Mabel,” I tell my wife.

“I heard you screaming from the other room.”
We used to be allowed to sleep in the same room, but now couples are restricted from having children. I knew someday they’d run out of room underground.
“It’s always the same. I’m trapped outside, no car, no suit. Slowly burning. I see a Safe Zone, but when I get there, it's just a mirage.”
“I told you, Adam, you’ve been under too much stress at work. I didn’t say taking that promotion would be easy. You've got a lot of people to take care of.  Besides, you haven't been taking your pills from the NutriTech.”
“They don’t work,” I grumble.
“They’re perfectly calibrated just for you. You need them. Eat your breakfast and get to work. You don't want to be late.”
She puts my plate in front of me, fresh out of the NutriTech. Artificial bacon and eggs from the animals that didn't exist anymore.
“You know, Mabel, my mother used to tell me stories about something called ‘home-cooked meals’ where a wife used to make food herself, in a funny little room called a kitchen.”
The food tastes like air, and I am left feeling emptier than before.
Eventually I get the strength to drag myself to the subway. When I arrive at the office, I take my seat at the head of a long white table, behind a plaque that reads ‘Adam Black, Director of Human Services WCA.’ Instead of a room filled with dozens of concerned people. only my second command, Charles, is present.
“Morning Charles, anyone else coming?”
“I have some good news for you. You’re getting out of here.”
I look up at him with wild eyes. I had been applying for release to another colony for months. The Los Angeles Colony was one of the worst in America. We had been devastated by earthquakes long before everyone was sent underground. Only the wealthiest and most honorable could get out.
“The World Climate Alliance has recognized your work for their company,” he continues. “They want to send you and your family to a colony up north called the Alaska Colony. It’s a little cooler. Not much, but they are starting to build above ground again.”
I was about to jump at the offer, then I think of all the people who are counting on me for their survival. Of course, that’s all we are doing down here. Surviving, but not living. I am in charge of food and clothing distribution, and housing.
“That’s incredible of them to offer, but I have too many responsibilities. Who would take over for me?”
“Me Adam! You cannot pass up this opportunity to make a difference somewhere else too. I’ve already packed a SafteyCar with radiation suits and supplies for your journey, they need you there right away.”
I was convinced. Down here, miles from the surface, is enough to drive anyone insane. It’s dark, cold, and small. Many people go up to the surface to die after being down here for only days.
“Tell them I’ll be there.”
It had been decades since I had been above ground. Not since I was a child. And from what I remember, I wasn’t looking forward to going there again. For the last 60 years, America has evacuated from the surface of the earth. There was no alternative but death. It all began after years of steady nuclear war. That sped up global warming, turning the world into a radioactive wasteland. Cancer rates and temperatures skyrocketed, almost all water evaporated, crops and animals died by the millions. We built SafeZones underground, away from the devastating affects of the sun. The World Climate Alliance, WCA, was formed, trying to make life in the surface possible again. So far, we have a long way to go. The government crumbled. No one was immune to the sun. Other countries tried to help, but soon they too were in a situation even worse off than ours. People, even underground, are still dropping like flies. Starvation and disease run wild in close quarters. The world was so overpopulated we couldn’t bring everyone down, just those who could afford it. Many were left to die. When I reach the surface, I feared to see the bones of those abandoned.
“Ready to go? The car is waiting,” calls my fourteen year old daughter Juliette.
With my stomach in knots, I follow them out. A silver SafteyCar, built to withstand the harshness of surface travel, waits in front of our apartment building. Charles assured me the trunk had been packed with radiation suits and supplies, and that our automatic driver was programmed with our destination. I look for the last time on the Los Angeles Colony, that I had worked so hard on. But I can’t stay here another day.
We get into the rather spacious car, and it makes its way to the elevator to bring us up. My ears pop, I feel dizzy, I have to call this whole thing off. All of a sudden I see it. The sun. Massive, menacing, deadly. Destroyed our world. But it is beautiful.
Mabel and Juliette look in fascination with me at the vast desert around us. Once this had been a thriving city teeming with life and activity. Now, it was sand and memories. The car began to move. I see the heat rise from the ground in wavy layers, but our car is a cool 65 degrees. We would be dead in an hour out there.
After travelling comfortably for an hour or so, the car began to slow down.
“Are we almost there?” asks Juliette.
With a worried glance at me Mabel said “How can we be? We’re still in the desert!”
The car slowed to a stop, and we begin to panic. 
“Calm down, it's probably just a small problem with the computer” I said, not even convincing myself. I go over to the automated driver, but the screen was black. My heart rate began to heighten. Something terrible was happening. The power and restart buttons were shot, as well as the emergency radio. We are trapped.
“The car is dead. Completely dead,” I tell them, voice shaking.
“What do you mean dead?” whispered Mabel, eyes wide with terror.
“There is no more power. It’s not going to move.”
“Call for help, don't just sit there! We’ll die out here!” screams Mabel, panic in her voice and in her tears. Juliette sobbs silently next to her mother.
“I tried, the radio is dead too! Listen, Charles packed us suits and supplies in the storage compartment.”
Juliette gets up and opens the lid of the compartment. “Where did you say he put them? Because they’re not in here.”
I freeze, them jump up and look inside. Empty. Just a small envelope at the bottom. I reach down and grab it, not all hope yet lost.
“Adam, I’ll enjoy your job. Maybe you should have given me that raise you promised. Goodbye.       ~Charles
My head spin rapidly, and everything goes black.
I wake up to Mabel’s worried eyes.
“I had the dream again Mabel. We were going to die, out in the desert. We-”
I looked around and remembered. This wasn’t just another dream. This one was real. I was betrayed. And I was going to die.
“It was Charles,” I hiss. “He programmed the car to stop. He never packed anything. He wanted my job.”
While this sunk in, I notice the car  has heated up significantly. Without the air conditioning, the temperature gage read 80 degrees.
Between sobs, Juliette utteres, “Dad, are we going to die out here?”
I didn't see the sense in lying to her.
“Yes.”
No one talks again for a long time. The temperature is slowly rising. 87, 89, 93, 96. It is getting harder and harder to breathe the dense air inside that car. I see grains of sand slightly drifting outside, and long for a cool gust of wind, though I know I am teasing myself. I’m feeling claustrophobic, the walls are closing in i have to get out i have to get out i'm going to die i can't breathe i can't breathe i have to get out this is it i'm going to die.
I take my shirt off, wrap it over my head, and start to open the door.
“What the hell are you doing Adam, it's 180 degrees out there!”
“Don't you see Mabel, we’re being cooked alive! I’m going to go look around to see if there’s something nearby.”
Some people are still able to live outside, but only the wealthiest who could afford all the proper equipment. Though it is small, there is still a chance we might make it through this.
She grabs my arm, but she is weaker than I am and I pull away. If I was going to die, I was going to know that I did all I could to survive.
The sun burns my eyes, the air is heavy and dry. I feel my throat begin to tighten, my breaths short and ragged. It feels like the sun is boring a hole through the top of my head. My body yearns to sweat but couldn't sacrifice the little hydration it had left. I hadn't had water for hours and I was losing it all in minutes. The wind was light and warm, but invigorating. It carried the scent of the dead, the lost hopes and memories. I try to walk, but my legs feel is if anvils had been tied to each ankle. After a few steps I fall to my knees, and feel something hard against my leg. I look down to see a sphere of white in the yellow abyss around me. The skull looks back at me without eyes.
All of a sudden I was eleven years old again. Coming out of the ground for the first time. My parent worked for the WCA, and decided to bring me along in a mission to the surface. At that time, things weren't as bad as they are now. Some people were still living on the surface. Never seeing anything so bright, I could barely open my eyes, and I asked my mother why there was fire in the sky. They saw my mother’s clothes of status, and started crawling towards her, begging for food and water. Scratching at our ankles, too weak to hold on. We gave them a few coins, but money had lost all value. All that mattered was making it to the next day. There was no more future. A few feet away, I noticed a woman holding a snake on her arm, having it bite her. Suicide was all too common on the surface, and underground. I stopped walking. A boy, no older than three, lay dead in front of me. Blood stained his face, still seeping out of his nose and mouth. My mother pulled me away, but the image lived inside me.
Maybe this skull was his. And soon, it would become mine. My brain is going dim, clear thoughts vanish. In the corner of my eye, I spot a house, It is small, but has an air conditioning unit on the side. My eyes can’t focus on anything, but I have to get to the car. Legs not functioning, I drag myself, spitting up sand and blood, and lay at the foot of the car. Once I have mustered up the strength to lift up my head, I throw open the door. I wish I hadn’t.  I feel the tremendous weight of the dead bodies of my wife and child fall on me, eyes open, souls gone. It had probably gotten over 200 degrees in that car. They had had no chance.
Numb. I am numb. I don’t feel sadness or anger, or regret, just emptiness. It took too much to feel. I only have room for the heat. It is working its way through my veins, approaching my heart. I will never get to the house, I lost the will to try.  Maybe it was never even real. I knew all along how the dream ends. I lay down next to my family, finally embracing the sun, letting it warm my soul. I closed my eyes, and fall asleep for the last time.

I wake up in my bed at home. “Gosh, Mabel. That was the worst dream yet.”