A rough awakening
From Torg Adventure
You wake up to find Tracy leaning over you, shaking your shoulders roughly.
"Wake up, blockhead. We have a problem."
"Yaaaah..." you yawn, stretching and hitting the side of your cramped bunk.
Your teen sister has woken you up like this more than once, but this felt different somehow.
You blink the sleep out of your eyes, see the worried expression on her face, and immediately know something bad has happened.
"Trace, what's the matter?" you half-growl, your voice still husky.
"He's...gone" she muttered, lip trembling, before turning on her heels and walking quickly away.
"Huh?"
Throwing back the covers and rolling off your bunk, you land on the floor with a heavy thump, and hurry after Tracy to the middle of the shelter.
Mom is there, sitting at the table with her head buried in her hands. Milly is beside her, one arm around your mother's shoulders, seemingly trying to comfort her about something.
You approach the table cautiously, and stand beside Tracy, who simply watches the scene silently.
You notice your mom is still wearing the oversized white T-shirt you gave her last night. For the first time since waking up, you recall the events of last night.
The T-shirt must only be barely covering her pussy, and her long legs are visible under the table, splayed open. Your morning woody begins in earnest as memories of last night flash briefly before your eyes.
You are roused out of your daydreams when you hear quiet sobs come from your mother, and shuffle closer to talk to her. Kneeling down beside her chair, you look up at her and place a hand on her knee.
"Mom?" you say, gently.
Hearing your voice, she lifts her head out of her hands, and looks at you. Tears stain her eyes, and roll down her cheeks in heavy drops.
"He's gone, John. Your father has left us forever!"
You notice something out of the corner of your eye, and turn to see a letter on the table. Suddenly, the awful realisation dawned on you. Your father had left the family bunker, effectively committing suicide by leaving the safety of the shelter to wander the war-torn wastelands above.
With shaking hands you reach out to read the letter on the table...
Read the letter, an explanation
