I run my hands over my stomach, thinking about my body and how it feels, before nodding my head. I haven’t noticed any rashes. “I feel fine, too.”

Achilles and Jiro repeat the same.

“Well, then I think we’re safe.” Creed looks at the grey building and I know he’s weighing the options. “I say we go inside.”

“What if it’s inside the building where we need to worry about?”

“It’s not big enough for any nuclear reactors,” Jiro reasons. “If anything, I’d say it was a nuclear testing facility but nothing like Fukushima.”

Still uncertain, I hesitate when they start going inside, staring after them. Achilles looks back at me. “You’re always welcome to stay out there alone if you’re afraid, rabbit.”

I scowl. “Fuck you! And what is with everyone calling me a rabbit?” He doesn’t answer, so I climb through the hole and follow after them. Fucking asshole. He wants to call me rabbit, I’ll bite like one. Of course, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much when Jiro calls me rabbit. With him, it’s cute. With Jiro, it’s a threat.

The door to the building is large and grey, definitely steel, but Creed jerks it open easily despite the rust. Those big muscles bulge as he does so and I get a nice eye full of what it would like if he was holding his weight on top of me and fucking me good. Entirely the wrong time to think about it, especially with the way I smell. At least I’m not the only one who stinks. Achilles is still covered in mud like some sort of swamp monster.

It’s dark inside but when Achilles flips the switch on the wall, it surprises all of us that the power comes on. The lights all turn on, lighting it up bright enough to take in the building, and we’re able to lock the door behind us to keep anyone else from coming in since we don’t need the sunlight.

The radiation symbols are on everything inside the building, too, and I stare at them nervously. “It says nuclear,” I point out.

“I see that,” Achilles answers.

“Should that mean we need to worry about radiation in here?”

“It depends.” Achilles glances at me.

Scowling at his none answers, I ask, “on what?”

“On how long ago it was used and how much cleanup has been done since.”

Jiro is standing at one of the white boards on the wall. It’s covered with words, not all of them in English, and he seems to be taking it all in. “I think I can answer that,” he says as we step inside what feels like a literal blast from the past. Everything inside the building is old and outdated. Clearly, it isn’t used anymore.

We all turn to look as Jiro points at the board and the date there.