by Ralph Gibbs
“I don’t know,” Thomas said, scratching his head.
“You don’t have a sporting goods store,” Randel asked.
“A small one, but it carries mostly footballs, basketballs, and skateboards,” Thomas said, looking dejected. He suddenly perked up. “What about a rock-climbing gym? We had one of those open up about six months ago.”
“It’s not really mountain climbing gear, but I can use that in a pinch,” Franklin said. “Might be able to find what I’m looking for in the next town.”
An hour later, loaded with supplies and farewells exchanged, Franklin and Randel, headed back. When the two reached the smaller stream, Franklin handed an ax to Randel.
“What do you want me to do with this?
“Nothing yet,” he said, searching the forest. “Come on.” They hiked upstream until Franklin found a set of trees about the same size and close to the bank. “These will do. I want to drop both of them across the creek. The idea is to drop them as close together as possible and create a doublewide bridge.”
“That seems like a long shot. If we were loggers maybe, but I’m not even sure what side to cut to make it fall over the river.”
Franklin pointed to the back of the tree. “Cut here.” Several minutes later, Franklin’s tree was the first to fall. It fell perfectly across the creek, though a little more to the right than he was hoping for. He checked Randel’s progress. “Adjust your cut a little more to the left.”
“I wish you would’ve told me what we were going to do while still back in town,” Randel said, catching his breath. “I would have picked up a pair of gloves.” Leaning the ax on his leg, he checked his hands. “I think I’m getting blisters.”
“I should have thought of that. Sorry.”
Randel shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”
“Take a breather. I’ll finish up.”
It turned out only two more hits were needed. At the first sign the tree was falling, Franklin checked the sighting and, using all the strength he could muster, tried to nudge it to a better course. He didn’t know if his nudge helped, but the initial placement was nearly perfect. Unfortunately, the upper branches of both trees tangled, and the tree rolled, creating a small gap.
“Not bad,” Randel said, admiring the drop.
“That was the easy part. The hard part will be cutting all those branches.”
“I’d like to propose an idea.”
“What?”
“With everything else back at the house, I’m betting they have a chainsaw. I say we finish up, get the chainsaw and come back tomorrow.”
“I like that plan.” They packed up and carted the wheelchair across the new bridge. When they came to the larger river which was still raging, they noticed it was not as high.
“I wonder what it looks like when it’s not swollen,” Randel said.
“Probably little more than a creek would be my guess.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Randel said as he turned upstream.
“Where you headed?”
“Back to where we crossed.”
“Too far. There’s no reason to hike an hour up and an hour back. It’ll be better to drop two trees near here. I spotted two candidates yesterday.”
When they reached the trees, they got to work. As before, Franklin’s tree was the first to fall. Landing with a thud, the tree sank in the soggy bank. Limbs hit the water and snapped off, causing the tree to roll slightly. Randel, seeing how the tree fell, adjusted his strokes. Franklin stood ready and adjusted the tree's trajectory as it started to fall. He could tell immediately that the tree over-corrected. It fell on top of Franklin’s tree.
“Damn,” Franklin said.
“I don’t think that’s too bad. If we cut the top portion off near the edge, we can probably roll if off. It won’t be as long, but it shouldn’t be in any danger of being washed away.”
“That’ll work. When we come back with the chainsaw tomorrow, we can do it then.” Randel was relieved. He thought Franklin might want to do it right then, and he was getting hungry. “Let’s get back.”
**********
Danica, Maggie, and Deborah were sitting in the living room drinking coffee, laughing and joking about themselves. They talked about their likes and dislikes, growing up, school, and sex.
“I’m telling you, that boy had a pinky between his legs, but God, could he use it,” Maggie said.
“What about you?” Maggie asked Danica. “Who was your first crush?” She raised her eyebrows, lowered her voice, and leaned in closer. “More importantly, who was your first?”
Danica opened her mouth to say something, but Andy crashed through the door. “I found something,” he yelled out of breath. “Well, Whisper found it, but I uncovered it.”
“What did you find?” Maggie asked.
“I told you, Whisper found it,” Andy said. “I uncovered it.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. “What did you uncover?”
“A door,” Andy said, beaming.
“What kind of door?” Danica asked, putting down her coffee.
“It’s a door in the ground,” Andy said. “It’s too heavy for me to lift.”
Danica strapped on her pistol belt and handed both girls a weapon. “Where’s this door?” she asked.
“It’s behind that house,” he said, pointing. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Just tell me where it is,” Danica said. Andy started to protest but changed his mind at her look.
“It’s behind the house next door,” he said more subdued. “It has grass all over the top of it. You can’t see it unless you look for it.”
“All right,” Danica said. “Stay here. Deborah, watch Andy.”
Andy was right. It wasn’t easy to spot. The only reason Danica could walk right to it was that Whisper was sniffing and pawing at it. She knelt and examined the door which was covered with fake grass. It was well hidden. If not for Whisper, it might have remained hidden for a hundred years. There was no latch, just two hundred pounds of steel. It required both her and Maggie to muscle it open. Once open, it revealed a set of concrete stairs that led to another hatch thirty feet below.
“Andy, bring me a flashlight,” Danica yelled, knowing he was standing at the door watching them.
“Oh, cool,” he said when he delivered the flashlight. “You going down there?”
In answer, she took a step down, turned to Andy, and said, “Need you to head back and protect Deborah.” He turned and ran off without protest.
“I don’t suppose you’d stay here?” she asked, Maggie.
“I want to, but I won’t,” Maggie answered.
With a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other, Danica slowly made her way down the steps and examined the second door. There was an electronic keypad on the side of the door, though it didn’t seem to be functioning. She punched in some keys, but it didn’t show anything on the screen, light up, or make noise. Trying the latch, she was surprised to find it open. Pulling open the doors, the stench of death poured out. Danica sucked in a deep breath and covered her nose with the inside of her elbow.
She examined the inside of the room from the doorway. The room was the size of two double-wide trailers. On one side of the room, there was a kitchen and on the other side the living area. In the back of the room were three doors. On the far left was a series of beds stacked atop each other like what would be found in a jail cell. Lying in each rack was a body. Danica estimated around twenty people. Running out of breath, Danica turned around and pushed Maggie back up the stairs.
“Oh my god,” Maggie said as she reached the top. “That was horrible.”
“We’ll give it a few hours before we go back in, but I think we found out what happened to the owners,” Danica said.
“What have you ladies found?”
Maggie screamed, and Danica jumped, and then they saw Franklin at the corner of the house.
CHAPTER 51
The next morning, the small group ate break
fast in silence, enjoying the eggs Thomas had gifted Franklin and Randel before they left. Randel expected the meal to be a treat, but with the discovery of the bodies late yesterday, it felt like a wake. They agreed to avoid the topic until after breakfast, but no one could think of anything else to talk about, so they ate in silence. There was a brief discussion right after Franklin and Randel returned about exploring their find, but the smell was too overwhelming. Instead, they left the door to the chamber, and the grass door open, in the hopes fresh air would make this morning’s grim task sufferable.
Never any good at the quiet game, Andy, tired of the silence, finally broke the spell. “What do you think happened to them?” he asked as he dipped a piece of his biscuit in the egg yolk.
“I don’t think we should discuss this in front of him,” Maggie said.
“This isn’t the same world,” Franklin said. “Andy has seen his share of death, and he’ll see more. You can’t shelter him. He needs to know what kind of life he’s growing up in.”
“Franklin’s right,” Randel said. “I think it’s okay.”
As if to punctuate the point, when they looked over at him, Andy was giving Whisper a piece of biscuit dripping with egg yolk.
“What?” Andy said, looking up to see everyone watching him. “Whisper was hungry.”
Maggie smiled. “I guess you’re right,” she said.
“I think Andy asked a good question,” Franklin said, pushing his now empty plate away. “Maybe it’s time we find out.” Danica and Randel scarfed up their remaining food and moved to join him.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll do the dishes,” Maggie said sarcastically.
“Fuck the dishes,” Randel said. “We can do them when we get back. This is more important.” Seeing the look on her face, he decided he better say something to smooth things over. “By the way, breakfast was great.” The others echoed the sentiment.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Deborah said. “I can’t help there, but I can here.”
“I don’t mind,” Maggie said. “I was giving the men grief. It’s a requirement. Otherwise, they start to take advantage of you.”
“Please let me,” Deborah said. “Andy will help. Won’t you?” Andy was going to protest but seeing the looks on everyone’s faces, he bobbed his head in agreement.
When they returned to the underground shelter, the stench of death was less pronounced, but still in residence. Franklin and Danica led the way down the concrete stairwell followed by Randel and a reluctant Maggie, who was recalling every slasher movie she’d ever watched growing up. As the group descended into darkness, she couldn’t help but feel that Freddie, Jason, Michael Myers, Chuckie, Leatherface, Jigsaw, Pinhead, Sadako or any number of other supernatural horrors that hunted the dark were going to jump out of the shadows and slash, peel, chew, rip, saw or tear her face off. Then there was the constant gnawing fear that the billions of dead around the world would suddenly rise and eat the living.
Now she was walking into what amounted to a crypt with dozens of dead bodies. She considered letting the others explore the dungeon while she stood watch at the door, but then she would be alone, and alone was when they got you.
As Franklin reached the bottom, he slipped inside the darkened room without hesitation. Danica paused only long enough to give the place a sweep of her flashlight and then followed. As Randel reached the door, he turned and gave Maggie an encouraging smile before disappearing into the void. Hand on her holstered pistol, Maggie hesitantly moved toward the door to see the trio looking over the bodies.
“Maybe they drank poison,” Randel said.
“That doesn’t make much sense,” Danica said, looking around. “Why go to all the trouble to build this place if you’re going to kill yourself? They could have done that up there. No, I think we can rule out suicide or at least voluntary suicide.”
Steeling her resolve, Maggie involuntarily took a deep breath just before her bold foray into the chamber, and then promptly threw up as the overwhelming stench slashed, peeled, chewed, ripped, sawed and tore at her senses.
“Jesus, Maggie,” Randel said, running over to her. “Are you okay?”
“Shallow breaths,” Franklin said.
“Not really,” Maggie said.
“Go back up,” Randel said. “We can handle this.
Maggie shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’ll be all right in a moment.” She walked back to the door and knelt in the entrance. With the stench not as pungent lower to the floor, she gained her composure and headed back in with the others.
“What did you mean, we could rule out voluntary suicide?” Maggie asked, trying to add to the conversation and hoping they would forgive and forget her moment of weakness.
“It’s one thing to plan for the end of the world, it’s another to live through it,” Danica said. “I can imagine one or two of them might not want to live in the world. It’s possible the leader decided they shouldn’t live in this world anymore and slipped something in their drink.”
“So, murder?” Randel said.
“I don’t think we can rule that out,” Danica said.
“That’s a terrible thought,” Maggie said. Danica shrugged. The image of Jonestown flashed through Franklin’s mind, and he grimaced.
“That’s one explanation because these people certainly didn’t die of the plague,” Danica said.
“How can you tell?” Randel asked.
“For starters, they all have their clothes on,” Danica answered. “And look at them, it looks like they died in their sleep. The only person out of place is the guy on the couch.” The man that Danica pointed to was positioned oddly. His legs were crossed, with one arm resting on his lap and the other on top of the cushions. His head was leaning back as if he had fallen asleep watching television. “My gut is telling me that whatever happened down here wasn’t intentional.”
“If it wasn’t intentional, then that leaves accident,” Franklin said, examining the door lock. “There’s a series of thick iron deadbolts on the inside of the door that wasn’t engaged. If they had been, I don’t think anything short of dynamite would get that door open.”
“They sure spent a lot of time on this place,” Randel said as he opened the far left door in the back of the room. “There’s several generators back here.” As he went to check the fuel levels on the generators, Danica flipped the switch, but the light didn’t respond.
“Both generators are empty,” he said as he moved to examine the fuel barrels. “There’s a lot of fuel missing from this barrel, so they were being used.”
“They must have been running when they died,” Danica said. “When the first one ran dry, the backup generator kicked in until it ran dry.”
Using one of the dozen fuel canisters in the back of the room, Franklin filled up a generator and flipped the starter switch. The carburetor sputtered and coughed, producing a small thick cloud of gray smoke before starting. The smoke floated up toward the ceiling where it lingered near the vent in the center of the room. Danica flipped the switch again, flooding the room in bright light.
Danica looked up to see the discharge of smoke still lingering against the ceiling. “That’s interesting,” she said.
“What?” Randel said, looking up. Danica walked to the back of the room and opened the fuse panel. It all looked normal.
“What are you looking for?” Franklin asked.
“I’m just wondering why that smoke isn’t disappearing through that vent,” she said, pointing at the hole in the ceiling.
“I see what you mean,” Franklin said. He reached over and shut off the generator, plunging the room back into darkness. “The vent isn’t working.”
“Wouldn’t they have noticed that?” Randel asked.
“Not necessarily,” Danica said. “The only reason I noticed it is because I could see the smoke, and the only reason there was smoke was because the generators haven’t been started in a while. Carbon dioxide is odorless and colorless.”
&nb
sp; “So, they died of carbon monoxide poisoning?” Randel said.
“I think that’s the best answer we can come up with,” Danica said.
“That’s horrible,” Randel said. “They spent all this time building an end-of-the-world safe house, and it was anything but safe.”
“Well, at least we know what happened to them, Maggie said. “I feel better knowing it was an accident and not murder. Not much better, they’re still dead. But at least we know they won’t be showing up someday demanding to know why we’re living in their house.”
“Then, you’re staying,” Danica said.
“What’s that?” Franklin said.
“While you guys were off having a good time, Maggie told me she wanted to stay.”
“She talked to me about it last night,” Randel confessed.
Franklin shrugged. “Not a bad place to stay,” he said as he positioned himself under the vent. “If my son wasn’t in Colorado, I’d consider staying.” He started taking small, deliberate steps toward the door.
“What’re you doing?” Maggie asked. Franklin held up a finger, motioning her to wait a moment while he silently counted to himself.
“Seventy-two,” Franklin said when he reached the door. “I counted the steps from the vent shaft to the door. If you’re staying, I need to find the vent and find out why it’s not working. Don’t want the same thing happening to you.”
“I’m not planning on staying down here,” she said.
“Might not have a choice, someday,” Franklin said. “Better to be safe.”
Randel made his way to the middle door. “I have to confess, I was on the fence last night, especially considering this nightmare scene, but I admit, I like—holy shit,” he said opening the door and peering in. “Every gun in the county must be in there.” It was an exaggeration, but not by much. There were more than a dozen gun racks on one side of the wall filled with hunting rifles, assault weapons, combat shotguns, hunting shotguns, and handguns. There were cases of ammo stacked against the back wall. It was like walking into a large gun store.
“What surprises are behind door number three?” Danica said. It turned out to be a pantry with enough food stores to last the survivalists two years, if not longer. It was like walking down the aisle of a small grocery store warehouse.