The Doomsday Bunker

by William W. Johnstone

  They grabbed the bags from the back of the crossover and started walking at a fast pace toward the wall. As they did, Jill thought she heard several bursts of gunfire in the distance, but that wasn’t possible, was it?

  Of course it was. On a day like today, anything was possible.

  * * *

  Deb drove around the administration building to the bunker’s main entrance. Scores of vehicles were already parked back here on the wide grassy area to the left, and people were moving back and forth between them and the concrete building housing the stairs, as they unloaded personal belongings they had brought with them. Steady streams of worried-looking men and women came and went from the building’s open door.

  “The two of you can go on in and unload your gear,” Deb told Larkin and Susan as she turned halfway around in the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, Patrick. Graham’s got everything under control. We’re monitoring developments constantly—”

  She stopped and lifted her head as the sirens in the nearby housing developments, which had gone silent, started their keening wail again.

  “That can’t be good,” Susan said.

  “Wait a second.” Deb picked up a walkie-talkie from the console between the seats and keyed it. “Talk to me, Andrew.”

  “England’s been hit!” a man’s frenzied voice replied. “Russian missiles! At least five nuclear blasts!”

  Susan moaned in horror.

  “More missiles launched at our west coast from Siberia and North Korea,” the man continued on the walkie-talkie. “Our anti-missile defenses will try to stop them, and we’ve launched strikes of our own, but this is it, Deb!”

  A death-like pallor washed over Deb’s face, but her voice was still composed as she asked, “What’s the time frame?”

  “Not sure. If they do fire any at us, it’ll take approximately twenty minutes after launch for them to reach us.”

  Alarms inside the project began to clamor, and the people unloading their vehicles started moving faster.

  “So we have a twenty-minute minimum window,” Deb said.

  “Yeah. I’ve advised Graham. He’s going to start withdrawing from the main gate. Deb . . . we’ve got an encroachment along the eastern boundary of the property.”

  “What kind of encroachment?”

  “A woman and a little boy, approaching on foot. Looks like they’re carrying go-bags, like they know what they’re doing.”

  Larkin leaned forward sharply when he heard that. He touched Deb’s shoulder and said, “Is he watching them on surveillance cameras?”

  She turned her head slightly and nodded.

  “Ask him what they look like,” Larkin urged.

  “Description on the two?” Deb said into the walkie-talkie.

  “Woman’s mid-thirties, brown hair, little boy around ten, blond hair.”

  Susan said, “That could be Jill and Chris!”

  Deb told the man in the command center, “Send a screen cap of them to my phone.”

  “Will do.”

  Mere seconds later her phone chimed and she held up the screen so Larkin and Susan could see it. Susan said, “Oh, my God!”

  “That’s them,” Larkin confirmed. “Our daughter Jill and our grandson Chris.”

  “They must have taken one of the old gas company roads to get close, then tried to get here on foot,” Deb said.

  “Can they . . . can they get over that wall?” Susan asked.

  “The ground inside it is mined.”

  Susan groaned in fear and desperation.

  Larkin gripped the back of the seat in front of him, hard. “Can the mines be deactivated?”

  “I believe so. They weren’t activated until Graham turned them on earlier, when things started to go bad. The pressure sensor in them sends a signal to the computer in the command center, and that sends a detonation signal back.”

  “Turn them off!” Susan cried. “For God’s sake, turn them off!”

  Deb hesitated. “I don’t know . . . I wish Graham was here . . .”

  On the walkie-talkie, Andrew said, “Deb, the woman and the little boy are on the wall. The woman’s about to jump down inside . . . There she goes!”

  Chapter 20

  Jill’s feet hit the ground. She stumbled a little as she nearly lost her balance. She threw out her arms and caught herself.

  There was a little clump of cactus close by. Wouldn’t want to fall on that.

  She turned back to the wall and said, “Okay, Chris, toss the bags down to me, one at a time.” She had left the bags balanced up there until she was down on the inside of the wall.

  Chris dropped the bags to her. She caught them and set them aside, then said, “All right, you can turn around and slide off of there. Hang by your hands and then drop. I’ll catch you.”

  “Are you sure, Mom?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I’ve never dropped you, have I?”

  “Dad said you did once when I was a baby.”

  “That’s because you were as slippery as a little eel. Now come on.” She didn’t like the way those sirens had gone off again, and now some alarms inside the Hercules Project had added their clangor to the racket.

  Looking pretty dubious about the whole thing, Chris turned around, slid backward off the thick wall, and hung for a second before letting go. The wall was only eight feet tall, so he didn’t have far to fall before he landed in Jill’s arms. She was braced for his weight, but she still had to take a quick step backward to compensate for it.

  From somewhere not far off, she heard what sounded like a car horn honking. She turned and saw that it wasn’t a car but rather a Jeep, bouncing as it came across country toward them.

  Was that . . .? Yes! Graham Moultrie’s redheaded wife Deb was driving, but Jill’s mom was in the passenger seat. And peering anxiously between the two women from the rear seat was her dad. His rugged face was as drawn and haggard as Jill remembered ever seeing it.

  “Grab one of the bags and come on,” she told Chris. “They’ve come to meet us for some reason.”

  The Jeep’s tires threw up a small cloud of dust as it came to a stop. Susan was out of the vehicle in a flash, throwing her arms around both Jill and Chris, pulling them against her.

  “Oh, thank God, thank God,” Susan said. “That was so close.”

  “Close?” Jill repeated. “What do you mean?”

  Larkin had gotten out of the Jeep and come over to stand next to them. He put a hand on Jill’s shoulder and said, “This area is mined. They have electronic detonators, so the project’s command center was able to turn them off, but not before you jumped down from that fence. You were just lucky enough not to land on one.”

  Jill looked at the ground and felt like her stomach had dropped all the way to her feet. “Mines?” she said, her voice weak.

  “Yeah.” Larkin squeezed her shoulder. “But it’s safe now . . . until they’re activated again.”

  “That’s right,” Deb said from the Jeep. “So we’ve got to get out of here. We can’t afford to leave the perimeter unprotected for long.”

  “But I told Trevor and Bailey to come in this way,” Jill protested. “They never would have made it to the gate in time by staying on the road.” She saw the look on her dad’s face and knew there was something else she wasn’t aware of, something bad. “What is it?”

  “The Russians have nuked England,” he said. “And there are missiles from them and the North Koreans targeting the west coast right now. It looks like they may try to march those missiles right across the country.”

  “You mean right across us,” Jill said. Her insides felt more hollow than ever.

  “Yeah. We’ll try to knock them down with anti-missile defenses, of course—”

  “But some of them will get through.”

  Larkin sighed. “More than likely.”

  An explosion sounded not too far off, making all five of them jump. It wasn’t a nuclear blast, though. Deb looked toward the main road and said, “That was one of t
he mines along the front of the property. Someone made it over the electrified fence, although I don’t see how. We’ve got to go, so the command center can turn these mines back on.”

  Susan said, “You mean someone died over there, just because they were trying to get to safety.”

  “There’s nothing right or fair about it,” Larkin told her. “But that’s just the way things are. If Graham let in all those people out there, then we’d all die. It’s that simple.”

  Susan caught her bottom lip between her teeth. A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I know,” she said. “It’s just—”

  “I’m telling command to activate the mines,” Deb said as she held up the walkie-talkie. “Come on !”

  Larkin pushed Jill and Susan toward the Jeep. “You girls get out of here,” he said. “Take Chris with you. Deb, how far back does the mined zone extend?”

  “It’s fifty yards wide along the entire perimeter.”

  Susan clutched at Larkin’s sleeve. “Patrick, what are you going to do?”

  Larkin didn’t answer her directly. Instead he told Deb, “Tell command to reactivate the mines, then leave the walkie-talkie with me while you take my family back to the bunker. I’ll stay here and wait for Trevor and Bailey. When they show up, I’ll call command and they can turn off the mines again until they get over the wall.”

  Deb looked skeptical. She said, “I don’t know if Graham will approve that . . .”

  “You’ve got to give the rest of my family a chance to get in,” Larkin argued.

  “What if people who aren’t residents here try to come over the wall?”

  Larkin went to the jeep and picked up his AR-15 from the back of it. “I’ll stop them,” he said.

  Susan stared at him in horror.

  Jill was more pragmatic. She took her mother’s arm and urged her into the Jeep. “Come on, Mom,” she said. “We need to get inside while we still can.” She had to swallow hard. She was heading for shelter without knowing if her husband and daughter were going to survive. But they were beyond her help now. Their fates were in the hands of God . . . and Jill’s father.

  They had to make it.

  * * *

  Larkin watched the Jeep jolt off toward the buildings and the entrance to the underground bunker. The worry crossed his mind that he might never see his wife, daughter, and grandson again, but the knowledge that they had a good chance of survival bolstered his spirits some.

  Not many had even that much of a chance, he thought as he looked around the hills. He was up just high enough to catch a glimpse of the skyscrapers in downtown Fort Worth poking up from the southeastern horizon, about ten miles away. It was mid-afternoon, and by nightfall the city might be a flattened, smoking, radioactive ruin. These hills could be swept clean of vegetation, all of it burned away by the blast wave. Radioactive fire would consume everything above ground, leaving only ash. Not even memories, because no one would be alive to have them.

  From where he was, he could see part of the old gas company road Trevor would have to use to get here. He forced his attention onto that short stretch and kept it there, praying he would see his son-in-law’s car come bumping along the gravel lane. Trevor was a smart guy. He would be able to find the road . . .

  The walkie-talkie Deb had left him crackled. She said his name.

  “I’m here,” Larkin replied as he keyed the mike.

  “Patrick . . . there are reports that missiles aimed at Texas have been detected in the upper atmosphere. You have to get back here now.”

  “Trevor and Bailey aren’t here yet.”

  “The bunker will be sealed in fifteen minutes or less. There’s no more time.”

  Larkin felt sick, but Deb was right: there was no time for that. He said, “Are Susan, Jill, and Chris safe?”

  “They’re all down here, and they won’t be allowed to leave.”

  “Good. I’m staying put for a while longer.”

  “Patrick—”

  “Deb, tell Graham I really appreciate what the two of you have done. And if things don’t work out, tell my family I love them.”

  “Patrick, you need to—”

  A flicker of movement from the road caught Larkin’s eye. He interrupted Deb again, saying, “Wait a minute! I think I see—Yeah! That’s Trevor’s car. Tell command to deactivate the mines.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I recognize the car. Please, Deb.”

  For a moment, there was silence on the walkie-talkie, broken only by the faint crackle. Then Deb said, “The mines are deactivated. But the time is very short, Patrick.”

  “Got it. I’ll let you know when we’re clear.”

  “No need. Surveillance cameras, remember? Just get out of there and back here as quickly as you can.”

  “Will do.” Larkin turned the walkie-talkie off. He didn’t need any more distractions now.

  He got them anyway, as more movement caught his attention. Trevor’s car was out of sight from his position by now, but he could still see that other stretch of road.

  And several vehicles had just roared along it, obviously following Trevor, no doubt in the hope that he knew where he was going and that there was some sort of sanctuary at the other end of the gravel road.

  Larkin’s heart sank even more. For those people, it was a false hope. They were doomed and didn’t know it yet. All along, Larkin had tried to keep his emotions hardened against what might be coming. Now that it was actually on the way, that was even more difficult.

  Maybe . . . maybe it would be better to stay out here and die along with everybody else. What kind of world was it going to be for the survivors? Empty, devastated, depopulated. Humankind had never dealt with the sort of disaster this promised to be.

  Not since the last extinction event, anyway.

  But that was why the success of the Hercules Project and other, similar projects was so important. So that this wouldn’t be an extinction event. So that the torch of humanity on Earth wouldn’t be extinguished. Even if only pockets of people survived here and there, life would continue and one day the world would be fit for living again. Education, history, some semblance of culture could be preserved. It was all a slim chance, of course . . . but better than no chance at all.

  Larkin heard car doors slam not too far off and ran toward the wall. “Trevor!” he shouted. “Trev, over here!”

  “Patrick?”

  The sound of his son-in-law’s voice made a surge of relief go through Larkin. “This way!” he called. “Throw your bags over the wall!”

  The heavy canvas bags sailed over the rock wall. Trevor said, “I’ll boost Bailey up! Can you catch her on that side?”

  “Yeah. Come on, there’s not much time!”

  Larkin leaned the rifle against the wall as he saw his granddaughter’s head appear at the top of it. Bailey scrambled onto the top of the wall, which was about a foot wide, and balanced there precariously with a frightened expression on her face.

  “Granddad!” she said when she saw Larkin.

  “Turn around, slide off, and drop, honey,” he told her. “I’ll catch you.”

  She swallowed, nodded, and followed his orders. Her weight made him stagger a little as he caught her, and he couldn’t help but think about the mines under his feet. He hoped whoever was in charge of activating and deactivating them back in the command center was on the ball.

  Trevor climbed onto the fence, swung a leg over, and dropped, falling to his knees as he landed. He was up in a hurry, though, grabbing both bags.

  Larkin set Bailey on the ground, grabbed the rifle with his right hand, and took Bailey’s right hand with his left. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Trevor said, “Patrick, has something else happened?”

  Larkin looked at his son-in-law and said, “We’ve got less than fifteen minutes.”

  Trevor practically gulped. “Come on, Bailey.”

  They had just turned away from the fence when Larkin heard a man shout, “Hey, over here!
That’s where they went.”

  “Go!” Larkin said as he urged the other two toward the bunker. “Bailey, stay with your dad! Don’t slow down! Both of you keep moving!”

  “Patrick, what are you—” Trevor began.

  “Just get underground,” Larkin said, his jaw tight with strain. He turned around and faced toward the fence again. He gripped the AR-15 in both hands now.

  He heard Trevor and Bailey running away and was glad of that much, anyway. More shouts came from the other side of the fence as Larkin backed away from it. He stopped when he was certain the distance was more than fifty yards.

  A man’s head appeared suddenly at the top of the fence. He pulled himself up and rolled onto the narrow perch.

  “Go back!” Larkin shouted at him. “It’s not safe!”

  That was just about the stupidest thing he could have said, he realized, although it was certainly true.

  There was very little safety to be had in the world today. Not enough for all its billions.

  The man on the fence ignored him and turned his head to shout, “There’s some sort of compound in here. Hurry!”

  Larkin lifted the rifle to his shoulder. The man glanced at him but in his terror didn’t seem to comprehend the threat. Larkin swallowed. Already, Moultrie and his security force had killed people today in order to protect the Hercules Project. It didn’t matter that they had been fellow Americans. As of today, that concept didn’t really exist anymore. Once the missiles and the bombers were in the air, there was only us and them.

  And them included not only the Russians and the North Koreans but everyone who wasn’t a resident of the Hercules Project.

  Larkin’s finger was about to take up the slack on the trigger when the man on the fence shouted to whoever was on the other side, “Helen, bring the kids! Now!”

  Larkin couldn’t shoot.

  But as the man swung his legs over the fence and poised to drop, he shouted, “No, don’t—”

  The man leaped.

  Chapter 21

  His feet hit the ground and he disappeared in a blinding flash of flame and noise. Larkin flinched away from the blast as rocks and dirt clods sprayed through the air. Other things might be spraying, too, but he didn’t want to think about that. A cloud of smoke and dust billowed up from the site of the explosion, hiding the grisly results.