ANYONE ELSE?: (ANYONE Series Book 2) A post-apocalypic survival novel

by Angela Scott

  Cole placed a hand on my knee. “I thought you’d want to stay just in case.”

  “In case of what?” I had come, I’d seen, and now it was time to leave.

  “In case your dad and brother are still on their way.”

  So, help me, baby Jesus.

  He removed his hand from my knee and held it up again. “We don’t know anything, right? We don’t. You don’t know for sure they died on the mountain.”

  I stood, still holding my cat. “Cole, we’re leaving in the morning.”

  He sighed and nodded. Slowly, without waking up Bob, he stood. “Okay, I guess if that’s what you want to do.”

  I didn’t know what I wanted. Not really.

  I just knew that I never wanted this.

  “Fine, first thing in the morning it is,” he said as he glanced one way up the street and down the other. “It’ll be dark in an hour or so, and we need a place to settle in for the night. None of these houses look safe.” He used his thumb to motion to my home. “Beds and couches in there are not good.”

  I took a deep breath and released it, preparing myself for what I was about to say. “I think I may know a place.”

  Chapter 48

  The hatch to the underground bunker remained unlocked and slightly ajar, just as I’d left it. When I’d climbed out months before, I’d settled the door in place, enough to keep the weather and potential curious by-passers from wanting to get inside, but opened enough that if I needed to return, I could.

  Leaving the bunker open had been my backup plan.

  Now, I wished I’d slammed the door shut, because the thought of going back inside coiled my stomach.

  At the time, I had no idea what the world held in store for me or what I was getting myself into when I poked my head out — the dangers, the fears, the possibility of death. I’d only seen and experienced the end of the world for a few brief moments from the time my bedroom windows blew in and my dad dragged me across the yard and then left me in the backyard bunker.

  I balanced Bob on my hip while holding Callie’s leash and glanced at the neighboring houses. There had to be somewhere else we could stay. Anywhere but here. The houses on either side of my own were in far worse shape than mine. Some had nothing left to them, only partial roofs that lay collapsed on their foundations, as if a house of cards had caved in.

  Cole bent and swung the hatch door all the way open. “Nice,” he said. “Your dad spared no expense.”

  True, he hadn’t. He’d used every dollar of my mother’s life insurance to buy the best underground shelter he could. Neither Toby or myself liked it — the money could’ve been used for other things, more important things. It had been our dad’s way of coping with our mom’s death. If digging a hole in the backyard and preparing for the end of the world was Dad’s way of dealing with life’s worst tragedy, then who were we to try and stop him?

  “Nothing works,” I called to Cole as he climbed down the ladder into the dark hole. “I’d turned the power off, and when I went to flip the switches back on, nothing happened.”

  When the switches didn’t restore the electricity, the generators, and the air intake, I’d panicked. Full-fledged freak out. I told myself I’d leave the bunker at some point, but when the time actually came, I wasn’t ready. Terrified, nervous, unsure, I didn’t have a choice. I could either face the unknown or risk dying in the tin can under the ground with no air in complete darkness.

  Months later, I stared at the battered metal door.

  Life had come full circle.

  As I climbed back into the bunker, I honestly didn’t know which decision was worse — climbing out or climbing back in.

  “If we stay down there,” I said, looking around my neighborhood again. Nope, there wasn’t anywhere else for us to go. The shelter was it. Damn it. “We’ll need to leave the doors open for air and turn on a lantern. There should be one on the table where I left it.”

  “Why did you turn everything off?” Cole’s voice traveled upward from the darkness.

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “You didn’t try turning the switches back on?”

  I glanced at Bob. “That man drives me crazy, you know?”

  The baby smiled at me, and I kissed the top of his head — he was simply too yummy not to.

  “Yes,” I called to Cole. “Of course, I did. Several times. They don’t work.”

  He obviously didn’t believe me and began flipping the switches.

  What an ass—

  The whirling of the generators buzzed from below. Light filled the darkness, and intake valves sucked away, pulling air in from the outside.

  No way. No god damn way. How?

  I didn’t know whether to be pissed or thrilled.

  Cole climbed up the ladder partway and grinned. “They seem to be working just fine for me.”

  “That’s because you’re a freaking angel full of miracles and weirdness!” There was no other explanation.

  “Freaking angel or handsome devil?” He waggled his eyebrows. “So, how should we do this? Do you think you can climb down with Bob or do you want to toss him to me?”

  Neither option seemed safe. “I’m not sure we should do either.”

  Cole glanced down behind him, into the shelter. “It’s not that big of a drop.”

  “No.” I glared at him.

  “Okay, fine.” He climbed all the way out. “Strap him to my chest. Let’s do this the right way.”

  I released my breath and helped slip Bob into the baby carrier Cole still wore. “There’s not a lot of supplies down there. I attempted to take everything I could when I left.”

  “That’s fine. When I get you, Bob and the cat settled, I’ll go on a supply run.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t … I mean, I think we should just … we could—”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We have supplies in our backpacks. Nothing fancy, but we could make that work for now and then replenish our supplies later.”

  I nodded.

  “Tess, we’re going to be okay.”

  I nodded again.

  “Seriously, we’re going to be just fine. The bunker is perhaps the safest place we’ve stayed since all of this began.”

  He was right. The bunker was the safest — underground, away from winds and tornados and hellfire. Nothing else could protect us like it could.

  Still, I didn’t want to go back inside, even though having Cole, Bob, and Callie with me would make it a lot easier this time. None of my hesitation had anything to do with safety reasons but more to do with facing memories.

  Two months alone in a bunker had just about made me crazy. Not having Dad come back for me like he said he would, broke my heart.

  How was I to forget all that?

  “It’s just for tonight, right?” Cole squeezed my shoulder again. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning, like you said. Just one night. Okay?”

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  He smiled. “I’ll climb down first, and you follow.”

  Yep, I’d follow.

  Where else would I go?

  Cole climbed down the ladder, disappearing into the shelter, out of sight.

  I glanced around me, at the twilight of the evening sky, the destruction of my childhood home and my neighborhood — the crappy world.

  When I left the shelter months before, I had hope. Everything was destroyed. I had no idea where anyone was. I believed Dad and Toby were alive and that I would find them. I fully believed that even though everything, and I mean everything, appeared lost and unsalvageable, it would get better. We’d find each other, find people, and live our lives just like before.

  I picked up Callie and placed her inside my jacket with her head peeking out the top under my chin. I turned backwards, took hold of the ladder, and climbed down into the hole in my backyard.

  I no longer had hope.

  I had reality.

  And as I closed the bunker door behind m
e and shut all three latches into place, I realized reality and hope could not coexist.

  “Did you do this?” Cole pointed to the coloring page duct taped to the back of the bomb shelter door which separated the decontamination area from the living quarters.

  After all this time, my coloring of Cinderella remained unmarred.

  I nodded. “You have to remember, there wasn’t much for me to do stuck down here for a couple of months. My dad supplied the place with porn magazines and scary movies for him and my brother, but he obviously forgot that I was no longer six-years-old when he packed coloring books and princess cartoons for me.”

  Cole’s eyebrows raised. “Porn magazines?”

  I stared at him. “Seriously? That’s all you heard?”

  He simpered. “Yeah, you kind of lost me after that.”

  “Men. You’re all the same.”

  “Pretty much.” He shrugged, agreeing. “Your coloring is very nice, though. Good shading.”

  I remember thinking so too when I’d colored it. Amazing how much detail a person can give to a task when all they have is endless amounts of time and nothing else to do.

  “Cinderella, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, I’m impressed with what you can do with crayons, but what the hell is that?” He spun around and indicated the melted candle and pound cake mess on the table.

  “That would be my sad attempt at a birthday cake.”

  He scrunched his face. “Looks awful.”

  “It was. It’s a pretty good representation of how my seventeenth birthday went.” I grabbed a garbage bag and, with the swipe of my arm, swept the whole thing into it. “Everything looks the same.”

  Once again, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  No one had entered the bunker. Not Dad or Toby. No one.

  Everything appeared exactly as I’d left it — a bit jumbled as I scrambled in the near-dark to find supplies.

  Cole flipped through the DVDs and X-box games. “Ghostbusters? Call of Duty? The Shining? Good stuff here.”

  I shrugged. “My dad tried.”

  Cole glanced around. “Looks like he more than tried.”

  I sat on the couch, still holding the edge of the garbage bag. “Do you know, I have no idea what day it is? None. I lost track a long time ago.”

  Cole sat next to me. “I’m not sure what day it is either. Sunday? Wednesday? I couldn’t tell you.”

  “What month do you think it is?”

  Cole shrugged. “July?”

  I slumped back against the couch. “I don’t think it’s quite July. It doesn’t feel warm enough for it to be mid-summer already.”

  “You know, since it’s just you, me, and the kid.” He nodded toward the baby who lay contently on a bottom bunk, playing with his own feet. “We can create our own time-telling system. Who’s to stop us from saying it’s Tuesday, June tenth?”

  True. We could, but why?

  “I guess it doesn’t matter, really,” I said. “Morning and night, that’s all we need. The rest is just useless details.”

  “Yeah, well it still would be nice to know when to celebrate Kupala Night.” Cole sank back against the couch, too. “You can’t just pick a date and celebrate it. It doesn’t work like that.”

  I stared at him. “Kupala Night? What?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

  He waved me off. “It’s a Slavic celebration to ring in the end of the summer solstice and the beginning of the harvest season. Unless you celebrate it, you wouldn’t get how significant it is.”

  Who is this man?

  “Are you Slavic?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Maybe. Aren’t we all a little bit of this and that? Anyway, you can’t just go and pick any old day to celebrate love and peace and rejuvenation.”

  “Umm, shouldn’t we be celebrating that every day?”

  He groaned. “You don’t get it. You need bonfires and singing. It’s not as simple as you think.”

  Apparently not.

  “Well,” I said. “I’m not sure what to tell you. Until we figure out what day and month it is, it doesn’t look like we’re celebrating much of anything.”

  Cole groaned again, a little longer and a little louder.

  I laid my head against his shoulder, still clutching the black garbage bag. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  Chapter 49

  I lay on the bottom bunk in the near dark unable to sleep. The thought of slipping into unconsciousness and sleeping away my time in the bunker would’ve been totally welcomed, but my overactive mind wouldn’t let me. When even a hint of sleep crept to the forefront of my restlessness, my persistent thoughts beat it back into the grotto of my mind.

  No sleep for you, silly girl. Let’s think about all the sad things in your life instead.

  Memories of Dad and Toby ran through my stupid brain. Everything from growing up here — both good and some not so good — all the way to the moment I lost them on the mountain. My brain made me remember it all. Every last detail.

  As I sat by Marco’s side, trying to provide him with comfort and ease his pain until he passed away, I knew that Dad and Toby, like everyone else, hadn’t made it. If they had, they would’ve come back to look for me.

  They didn’t come, which meant only one thing: they couldn’t.

  I knew then they were gone.

  Yet, back in my home town, this bunker, the place where we said we’d meet if we got separated and knowing they weren’t here still hurt. It hurt a lot.

  I refused to cry. I’d cried too much during the whole crazy apocalypse, so many tears. I just couldn’t anymore.

  Tomorrow would be a new day, a new beginning, a new way of life.

  Cole, Bob, Callie, and I would be on our way. We’d leave what was left of my home, my town, and never come back, never again. I had to be okay with that.

  I had no other option.

  Going forward, I’d have to be stronger, braver, and more certain than ever. Bob needed me to be that kind of person.

  His very survival depended on it.

  I traced my finger over the corrugated metal wall of the bunker, feeling the cool bumps as I willed myself to sleep. No luck. Not even counting sheep helped. Maybe I’d be so tired in the morning, I’d fall asleep riding the paramotor.

  Doubtful, but one could hope.

  Cole’s wild-haired head peered over the edge of the bunk above me, upside down. “Can’t sleep, huh?”

  I released an exhausted breath. “No, too much to think about.”

  He swung himself off the top bunk with the ease of a gymnast. “Scoot over.”

  “No, we won’t fit. There’s not enough—”

  He gave me a shove and climbed in, giving me no choice but to make room for his six-foot-plus frame in the already tight space. “See? Cozy.”

  I was trapped. The bumpy metal wall on one side of me and Cole blocking my escape on the other. Definitely not cozy.

  He rolled onto his side, facing me. “What’s going on? What’s keeping you awake?”

  Seriously?

  He had to feel my incredulous stare even in the darkness, but he didn’t say anything or make any move to leave my mini-bed, so I shifted, rolled onto my side, trying to get comfortable, and tucked an arm under my head, facing him. “So much is keeping me awake that you might not want to go there.”

  He thought before answering. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I didn’t plan for the possibility of Pandora’s Box being unleashed on me when I asked. That’s a big can of worms that I’m totally glad to avoid, so thank you for that.”

  Typical Cole. I honestly wasn’t even mad, though that didn’t mean I wouldn’t call him out on it. “You asked the question and now you’re back-peddling?”

  “Hey, you were the one that handed me an out, so I’m taking it.”

  Even in the dark I could sense him grinning.

  “True,” I said, “but you climbed into my bed, doubling the body heat and
making it completely uncomfortable, so it’s only fair you answer at least one of the questions running through my head.”

  “One question?”

  “Yep.”

  He shrugged like no big deal. “Okay, if it’s just one, then shoot. Ask away.”

  No words came out of my mouth. No sound at all.

  He held the bat, and I held the ball, but I stood on the metaphorical pitching mound, afraid and unwilling to toss it his way.

  I’d obviously not thought this out well enough.

  Several times I’d hounded him with questions about himself, and almost every time he’d weaseled his way out of answering them or he would feed me partial truths. To go over those same questions again would be pointless. I also knew well enough that some questions, no matter how important I thought they were, would never be satisfied.

  From Bob’s makeshift bed, the sounds of baby snores filled the vast quietness of the bunker. I tried to find the right question to ask, something that once answered would ease my restless brain and allow me to rest even a little.

  “Did you fall asleep?” Cole whispered near my ear, his warm breath heating my cheek as he spoke.

  “I wish.”

  “Damn, I thought my presence alone had miraculously done the job.”

  “Again, I wish. At the rate this night is going, I’m going to be useless in the morning.”

  He made himself more comfortable in the bed, his legs touching mine. “So, what’s your question for me? I’m ready to impart my wisdom upon you.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “This is all too much for someone like me, I guess. I want to know what we are doing here?”

  If I was going to ask a question, it might as well be a big one.

  “Oh, wow.” He shifted, uneasy. “Do you mean this?” He motioned to the two of us. “Or do you mean this?” He waved a hand in a larger fashion, which I could assume meant everything else.

  I moved my hand in the larger fashion, mimicking him. “I mean all of this, though the other would be nice to know, too. For now, tell me what are we doing here? What do we hope to accomplish? Because it doesn’t feel like we’re accomplishing much of anything.”