Not all generators were built equally, not every regulation was followed to the letter and nobody wanted to confront their failures. We sealed all the bunkers and pretended they'd never existed to begin with. In the aftermath of a global catastrophe they were just written off as inevitable deaths.
Maybe if we'd chosen to hide above the clouds, where the creatures hid in between striking down entire cities with translucent knife-like tendrils, more people might have survived. Instead the majority of us were allocated to government-built bunkers and the rest were left to fend for themselves against the impossible.
They were supposed to be the safe ones, the ones who'd restart the world if and when we figured out how to fend off or kill the cloud-jumpers. Lord only knows how hard we tried, how many times we failed and saw them wipe another city off the face of the earth, bringing clusters of neighbourhoods up into colossal mouths that never seemed to be attached to anything else.
We never managed to kill or even wound a single one. They just vanished as suddenly as they appeared and we had to try and put the world back together only to find that two thirds had already suffocated in perfect safety. It was unforgivable, unforgettable and yet they still managed to bury it all, bury them all.
Whether they chose to do it out of fear or necessity, those of us who spent years of our lives opening sanctuaries-turned-tombs will never accept them as inevitable. Part of me hopes the cloud-jumpers come back to finish what they started, purely out of spite for the willing ignorance of those who survived the bunkers.
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