by Alex Gunwick
Derek grunted. It was interesting but not particularly useful information.
“I just love this stuff.” Sandy walked around the room, checking out each piece of equipment. “There’s so much history in this room. Who knows what’s on those tapes? Maybe confirmation of the flying saucer at Area 51?”
Derek shook his head. Aliens? For an ordinarily levelheaded woman, she surprised him by going off on that tangent. Maybe she was secretly a UFO junkie. Or perhaps she loved those ancient alien shows.
Derek moved closer to inspect a different set of machines. He recognized one.
“That isn’t a computer. That’s a long-distance radio transmitter/receiver. I saw something similar when I was in the service.”
“A radio?” Sandy stood next to him, squinting over the rim of her glasses. “Do you think we can use it to find out any news? Maybe things have calmed down and we can go back down the mountain. Maybe someone’s coming to our rescue.”
Derek could tell by the timbre in her voice that Sandy didn’t seriously believe in such an optimistic scenario, but he didn’t want to dash her hopes. He silently sat down at the console desk and started testing the dials. To his surprise, it turned on easily, a dim amber light displaying the frequency.
“I wish we’d learned from the past,” Sandy said.
“What do you mean?” he asked as he fiddled with more dials.
“During the Cuban Missile Crisis, we came so close to all-out nuclear war. Between the US and Russia, we have enough nukes to blow up the planet. It’s mutually assured destruction, and it’s stupid. We should have decommissioned all the warheads years ago. We wouldn’t be in this mess if we’d learned from the past.” Sandy sighed. She took off her glasses and rubbed her nose. Suddenly she seemed even more elderly.
“You know, I’ve lived for a long time. I’ve seen the world change in so many ways. But in others, we’re still the same. This might sound naïve coming from someone my age, but sometimes I wonder why people can’t just be nice to each other,” she said.
“I know what you mean. The world’s gone to shit. Hell, it might be over and we just don’t know it yet. We have no idea how bad things are out there.”
Derek dialed in a few frequencies, finding nothing but static. That didn’t surprise him. Maybe there wasn’t anyone left to contact.
Unwilling to give up, he kept spinning the dial. He was so convinced he wouldn’t hear any broadcasts that he turned past a man’s voice before it registered in his mind.
“Wait, go back.” Sandy stood behind him. Her hand rested on the back of his chair.
Derek slowly dialed back to the frequency until he found the voice again. Derek and Sandy went silent as an official but tired-sounding man announced the news.
“… an estimated fifty million are still without power on the Eastern seaboard. Efforts to restore electricity to much of the country continue, but FEMA’s acting director has declined to provide any estimates.”
“Is it a news broadcast?” Sandy leaned in closer, turning her good ear toward the radio.
“I think so. Probably an official state frequency.” Derek adjusted the dial to cut down on static as the voice droned on.
“Survival shelters and D-con units can be found at the following locations: Tybee Island, Georgia; Charleston, South Carolina; and Richmond, Virginia.”
“Three decontamination centers for the entire East Coast?” Sandy’s voice was incredulous.
“I suppose it took a lot of effort just to get those up and running.” Derek tilted his head as a succession of beeps heralded an emergency announcement. “Shh, I think we were listening to a recording, but this is some kind of EBS announcement.”
“The Pentagon has issued the following statement: The aggressor in the nuclear attacks upon the United States of America is believed to be Russia. No evidence has been made public, but sources close to the matter claim have claimed Russian involvement from the start. At this time, it is unknown if the United States will retaliate. This message will repeat.”
They waited but only heard more static.
“We don’t know when they will broadcast the message again. We have to tell the others,” Sandy said.
“I want to stay and listen, but you’re right. This is the most information we’ve gotten since the bombs dropped.” Derek was already moving toward the door. “They will want to know what’s going on.”
As they made their way out of the server room, the radio cracked with continuous static. Derek considered hanging back, but he wanted to be with the group when they heard the news. He needed to gauge their reactions to see who would stay calm and who wouldn’t. Sandy was taking it well. She’d remained calm, aside from the alien crap, so hopefully, the others would respond the same way. They needed to keep their heads on straight if they were going to get through this situation.
17
Kyle slipped along the outer edge of the main room. His mom, Derek, Sandy, and Edwin were gathered in the center of the room, arguing animatedly about something. His dad was still out getting supplies from the cabin. He should have been back by now, but maybe he’d gone off to do some more recon. Kyle wasn’t worried. His dad could take care of himself.
As he passed the group, Derek spoke loudly, directing his words at Edwin. “Of course it’s a good idea. We have to strike back at the Russians before they send more nukes to finish the job.”
“Don’t you think the focus should be on de-escalation? Hasn’t there been enough destruction already?” Edwin responded calmly, but his eyes were intense, darting between Derek, Liz, and Sandy.
“We are well past that.” Derek spread his arms wide in exasperation. “We need a show of force.” He slammed his fist into his open palm. “The time for peace talks is over. We have to strike back. Hard! The world needs to know we aren’t weak.”
“Other countries know we’re not weak. We’re the most powerful country in the world,” Edwin said.
“If we do nothing, we look vulnerable. Sometimes you’re only as strong as other people think you are,” Derek said.
“And sometimes, there is strength in restraint.” Edwin looked to his wife to back him up. “What do you think, honey?”
Sandy looked uncertainly from Edwin to Derek. “I don’t know. I think Derek might be right. We can’t just ignore what they did.”
Edwin dropped his eyes, shaking his head in disappointment. “I can’t believe it has come to this. How did we get here?”
“It doesn’t matter how we got here. It is what it is. Personally, I hope we nuke the hell out of those borscht-eating bastards,” Derek said.
“Why are we even fighting about this?” Liz asked. “It’s not like we can do anything about it.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. Finally, someone was being reasonable. It sounded like the Russians nuked the US, but we hadn’t nuked them back yet. What difference did it make? Unless the Russians planned on nuking this particular mountain, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was killing the men who’d killed his sister.
His mom saw him creeping past them, but she didn’t call out to him. Good. He didn’t feel like talking, especially about Sierra or the cult member Kyle killed. And he didn’t particularly care about what was happening in the world. He had one mission—to avenge his sister. Until he accomplished that, he wouldn’t have time to worry about anything else.
Kyle kept walking, leaving the main room and turning down the passage toward the locked door. He needed to get that door open. He might not be able to take out the whole cult by himself, but maybe something on the other side of this door could help him.
While the rest of them wasted time arguing about politics and counting sacks of rice, Kyle would stay focused on what mattered. It wasn’t just about killing the cult members; it was also about securing the bunker and protecting his family. That’s what his dad would do.
He was jealous of his dad. He was back at their cabin, actually doing something to help. Hell, if his dad got luc
ky, maybe he’d even run into a few cultists out in the woods. He’d have no problem killing them.
Kyle thought back to when he’d sighted the cultist in his scope. When he’d pulled the trigger, the bullet had punched a hole in the glass almost instantly. The man had crumpled in front of the fireplace almost instantly.
As he reached the locked door, Kyle grinned. He hadn’t felt a shred of regret for ending the man’s life. As far as he was concerned, every single person who had ever associated with the cult was responsible for his sister’s death. That man had chosen to join with those people. It was nobody’s fault but his own. He got what was coming to him.
Derek and his dad seemed to think they could just drive the cult people off. But in Kyle’s opinion, they all had to die. There was no reasoning with those people. They only understood violence, so violence is what they would get.
Kyle pulled the lockpick and tension wrench out of his pocket. He pushed them into the deadbolt. He torqued the wrench gently, working the pick into the lock and sliding up the pins one at a time. It came easier this time, but he still didn’t have the right touch. The pins slipped back into place a few times. He kept at it. The third pin proved to be especially difficult to get past, but he was getting closer to unlocking it.
After a few more unsuccessful attempts, he finally managed to slide the third pin up with the pick. The cylinder turned enough so that the first three pins were all held in place by the tension on the wrench. He worked the pick deeper into the lock, lifting the last two pins. When the final pin slipped into place with a satisfying click, the whole mechanism turned counterclockwise. The deadbolt slid back with a thunk.
“Yes!” Kyle pumped his fist in the air in celebration.
He grabbed the knob to wrench the door open, but the knob only rattled in place.
“What the—shit!” He remembered that he still had to pick the lock on the doorknob.
He groaned, disappointed, but set himself to the task. Truth be told, he found it entertaining. It was like a game, and most importantly, it distracted him from everything else that was going on. While he focused on opening the lock, nothing else mattered. His sister, the cult, the dusty bunker, it all faded away. It was just him versus a lock that didn’t want to be opened. It probably hadn’t been opened since before he was even alive. That was a funny thought.
He stopped to consult the manual. He flipped to the page with a diagram of a doorknob lock. He would have to start with the rear pin this time.
As he worked the pick inside the top of the lock with his right hand, he used his left to hold the tension wrench in place in the bottom of the key slot. He pried at the rear pin, trying to work it up out of the cylinder, but found that no matter how he jiggled it, his pick could find no purchase.
He tried a few of the other picks from the set, each with a differently shaped tip, before finding one that enabled him to contact the rear pin.
It took him a few tries to get the touch right. The pins would slip back into place when he had too little tension on the wrench, or they would refuse to respond to the delicate touch of his pick when he torqued too hard. It was frustrating as hell.
Eventually, he struck the right balance. He had the third pin pushed up and out of the cylinder when his mom called out to him from down the hall.
“Kyle! Come and get some food!”
The unexpected sound caught him by surprise, throwing off his concentration and causing him to release the tension on the wrench. The pins clicked back into place.
“Damn it. Great timing, Mom. You couldn’t have waited two more minutes,” he muttered under his breath. Then he raised his voice, calling back down the hallway. “In a minute, Mom. I’m in the middle of something.” He turned his attention back to the lock, but his mom’s voice interrupted him once more.
“Now, Kyle. Just because we live in a bunker now doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply anymore.”
“Ugh.” He groaned, tossing his head back in frustration before calling back to his mom. “Fine, I’m coming.”
He set down his tools. He left the pick that worked well for the doorknob lock separate from the others so he would remember which one to use when he came back.
He scowled at the door before starting down the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back for you. And you’re going to open for me.”
Derek dug into the M-2 unit food ration. The canned meat chunks with beans in tomato sauce wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten, but it beat starving. Halfway through eating, he set the can aside. He used a P-38 can opener to get into a B1 unit. He pulled out crackers, two chocolate disks, and peanut butter spread. He grunted. Again, it was better than nothing.
“Man, this brings back memories,” Edwin said.
“You do a tour in ‘Nam?” Derek asked.
“One. Only one. Thank God. I ate plenty of these. Did you find any D units in the crate?” Edwin asked.
“What’s in a D unit?” Sandy asked.
“Dessert.” Edwin grinned. “Sometimes it’s peaches, pears, apricots, or fruit cocktail. Sometimes it’s cake or bread.”
“I’ll go see if I can find some,” Liz said. She returned a few minutes later with a few more cans in her hands. “Found these.”
“Let’s pop one open,” Edwin said enthusiastically.
The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. At least the old man was having fun with this stuff. They’d checked the cans earlier and had thrown out any that were bloated or rusted. Because they’d been stored in a cool, dry place, the rations were still as good as the day they were packed, except for the crackers. They were a bit stale.
While Edwin launched into a story about Vietnam, Derek’s mind drifted. Why hadn’t we struck back at Russia? Could they trust the news coming over the radio? There could be all kinds of misinformation and propaganda coming through if their enemies had taken over the airwaves. It bothered him enough to make him wonder if they should even listen to the reports. But he guessed it was better than no information. He’d try some more channels later and see if he could find out anything else.
Across the room, Kyle sat on a crate. He held up a cracker to the light and glared at it. “Nasty.”
Derek chuckled. The kid had better get used to it. There wouldn’t be any more hamburgers for a while. Maybe years. Maybe never.
Liz walked over to Derek and spoke quietly in his ear. “Hey, Luke’s been gone a while. Do you think he’s okay?”
Derek checked his watch and thought for a moment. “You’re right. He should’ve been back by now. He said he was just going to grab a couple of things from the cabin. I’m sure he’s fine, though. He can handle himself.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just, I don’t like the idea of him out there all alone.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she was clearly concerned.
Derek felt for her. She’d been through a lot the past few days.
“You’re right. I’ll go check on him and make sure everything’s all right. He might need some help carrying everything back. I tried to go with him before, but he wanted me to stay with you guys. He didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. I’m just worried. I don’t know if I could take losing anyone else,” she said softly.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to go.”
Her jaw relaxed, but she still looked worried. Derek didn’t blame her. Although he’d tried to project calm, Luke had been gone way too long. He could be in all kinds of trouble right now.
After grabbing his pack and rifle, he headed into the forest. He moved quickly but cautiously. He couldn’t risk running into the cult. If something had happened to Luke, Derek would be the only one left to defend the rest of the group.
He approached the cabin from the north, stepping quietly through the forest. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for danger.
As he neared the clearing where the cabin was located, he dropped to a crouch. His finger rested against the trigger
guard of his rifle. He stopped, listening while watching intently for movement. It was quiet. Nothing caught his attention. He seemed to be all alone out in the snowy woods. But instinct told him that something was off. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling. Nevertheless, he sensed trouble.
He crawled forward on his stomach, holding his rifle in front of him. When he reached the tree line, he peered around the clearing. He spotted one man crouched behind the shed. He scanned the tree line through the scope of his rifle and made out two figures crouched across the clearing to his left. He found another man crouched in the trees across the clearing to his right. Derek had the man’s center of mass in his crosshairs.
A shot echoed across the mountain. The man’s right side exploded in a spurt of blood. Derek was dumbstruck for a moment. He looked down at his finger, which still rested innocently against the trigger guard. He was trying to figure out how in the hell his gun had gone off without him touching the trigger. He looked up in time to see two men busting through the cabin’s rear window.
Movement from the shed drew his attention away from them. The man who’d been crouched there was rushing toward the cabin’s front door, wielding a large knife.
Derek peered down his scope, tracing the man’s path with practiced patience. His finger hovered gently over the trigger. When his crosshairs came to rest on the top of the man’s back, Derek squeezed off a shot. The man fell face-first into the snow about ten feet from the cabin. The hostile didn’t move. He was down for good.
As the echo of his shot faded away, a piercing scream issued from within the cabin. Derek was up and sprinting across the field in an instant. He kicked in the front door and rushed inside.
18
The first man came crashing forward, chopping down at him with a hatchet. Luke dove out of the way. The blade sliced into the couch where his head had been a second earlier. The man wasted no time, swinging the hatchet backhanded in a wide arc. Luke sprang to the side, but the hatchet clipped him as it whooshed past his midsection.