Bunkers

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “They were when I left them. Go ahead, I trust you.”

  Jumbo nodded. “And just for the record, I’m going to lay off the booze for a while. I hate feeling out of control of myself.”

  “Good for you. Remember, moderation is the key to life.”

  “I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll get that tattooed on my arm. I’ve always wanted a tattoo. That would be badass.”

  Mark laughed at that and he followed Jumbo out the door. Jumbo had seemed sincere and Mark felt the sooner things got back to normal, the better off they’d all be. When they reached the top of the stairs, Mark saw someone racing the woods to them. That someone turned out to be Glick. He was out of breath and his eyes were red-rimmed. “Bones,” he said, gasping for breath, “he hung himself.”

  “No, no, no!” cried Jumbo. His eyes grew wide. “You’re lying just to make me feel bad. That’s a rotten thing to do, Glick. Ask Mark, I ain’t gonna say nothing to anyone.”

  “I’m not lying, man. Bones is dead. Dottie is really taking it hard.”

  Mark felt his shoulders get heavy as his knees grew weak. “Where are they now?”

  “Well, Bones was up in a tree, but we cut him down. He couldn’t have been up there long, maybe ten minutes. He was still warm. We tried doing CPR, but he was already gone.”

  “You’re lying!” screamed Jumbo.

  A lone gunshot made them all jump. It was followed by an agonized wail. The men all began to run as fast as they could, toward the sound of the wailing voice. Mark recognized the voice as belonging to Tiffany and as they approached the group, Mark slowed to a jog to let Jumbo pass. He stopped when he saw the two bodies. He wanted to throw up when he saw the Colt Defender.

  Dottie had shot herself in the right temple. Mark had no doubt that she had died instantly. If there was a silver lining to be found, that was it. There were many tears shed that evening, after an afternoon that had held so much promise. If anyone blamed Jumbo for what had happened, they never mentioned it. Jumbo clung to the bodies as if they were his own dead parents. He sobbed like a child and Mark had no doubt that his grief was a real thing. Even if no one else was blaming Jumbo, it was obvious that he blamed himself. Larry walked over to Mark, wiping tears from his eyes. “What should we do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose we should call the authorities.”

  Tiffany heard that and she came stumbling over. “No, I don’t want their names slung through the mud. I say we bury them right here.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Larry.

  Tiffany pointed to the excavator and bulldozer. “You know how to operate those things. You can dig the hole.”

  Mark and Larry exchanged a glance and Mark shrugged. “You guys do whatever you want to do.”

  “They were already gone, it’s not like anyone is going to miss them,” said Tiffany.

  Glick had taken Anita up to their house and Tina had followed them. Jumbo was too busy grieving to understand what they were contemplating. Larry rubbed his nose. “Yes, I can run that piece of equipment and I could dig a hole for them, but we’d be breaking the law.”

  “Who gives two shits about the law?” asked Tiffany, her white dress now soiled in blood and clay. “That same law was going to lock Bones up for the rest of his life.”

  “What about them?” asked Larry, pointing up to the houses.

  “We should have a unanimous vote,” said Mark. “Why don’t you two see how Jumbo feels about all of this and I’ll go talk to the others. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Larry and Tiffany both nodded and with a heavy heart, Mark walked away. The sun was sitting just above the treetops and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. People weren’t supposed to die on postcard perfect evenings, such as these. They were supposed to have backyard barbeques, not burials, thought Mark. He walked up to Glick’ house and knocked on the front door. A second later, he answered. “Hey,” said Glick, stepping outside and closing the door, “Nita is taking this pretty hard. She and Tina are upstairs.”

  “This might sound crazy, but we wanted to run it by you. “Tiffany and Larry want to bury them out in the woods. I said I’d go along with that, but the vote has to be unanimous.”

  Glick looked stunned and fresh tears fell down the bridge of his nose. “Holy shit, Mark, they’re not even cold, yet. That’s pretty hardcore, don’t you think? Why don’t we just call the cops and have them sort it out?”

  The door opened behind Glick and his daughter, Heather, stood there. The seven year-old was already dressed in her pajamas. “Daddy,” she said. “What’s a chemical weapon?”

  Glick quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and forced a smile. “Honey, they’re nothing a little girl should be worrying about. Go back inside, sweetie. Mark and I are having a grownup conversation.”

  “Hang on,” said Mark. He dropped down to squat in front of Heather. “Why do you want to know about chemical weapons?”

  The little girl looked up to her dad for permission to speak. After Glick nodded his head, Heather pointed inside the house. “Because the news people said that a big one just went off. I thought you should know.”

  Slowly, Mark rose to his feet. He and Glick locked eyes and Mark could see what little color had been left in his friend’s face, was now gone. “Do it,” he said. “Just do it.”

  Mark nodded and began to walk away. He thought about running home to catch the news, but the bad news would have to wait. There was nothing to be done about it. Once again, Mark found himself walking the new road and into the dead zone. Halfway there, he heard a diesel engine roar to life.

  He found Larry up in the cab of the big yellow digging machine. Jumbo and Tiffany stood holding each other. Mark stuck his thumb up in the air and Larry nodded. The excavator lumbered ahead on its steel tracks and it stopped near the freshly churned earth next to the septic system. Larry extended the arm and using the bucket, he began clawing up the earth. Five minutes later, the single grave, the final resting place for their dear friends, was ready for occupancy. Jumbo and Tiffany walked over to stand next to Mark. Larry climbed down from the cab, onto the track, before hopping to the ground. “Are they coming out?” he asked. “We should say something.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” said Mark. “The news is saying there was another chemical weapon attack.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Jumbo, “those crazy bastards. Did they say where? Is this the big one?”

  Mark shrugged his shoulders. “I got that second hand from Heather.”

  “We’ve got to get the kids up here, now,” said Jumbo.

  Tiffany turned to look at the two bodies. “We need to say a prayer over them. We can’t just chuck them into a hole and bury them like dead dogs.”

  “I’ll say the prayer,” said Larry. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The four of them walked over to the bodies and even before they had stopped, Larry had begun his prayer. Mark thought he spoke eloquently, offering up their souls to God in a way that didn’t seem rushed, but got straight to the point.

  “Amen,” said Tiffany.

  “Amen,” repeated Jumbo. He then looked at Larry and Mark. “Can you guys take it from here?” he asked. “I don’t think I have the strength to do this.”

  “Go on,” said Larry. “Mark and I will take it from here. If you see Tina, tell her I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Tiffany brushed past Jumbo and she gave Mark a hug. She then did the same to Larry. “Thank you,” she said. “That was beautiful.”

  Jumbo then took Tiffany’s hand and led her past the quietly idling excavator and back to the road. After they were out of sight, Larry looked from Mark to the two bodies. “How do you want to do this?” he asked.

  “As fast as possible. Let’s start with Bones. Grab his feet.”

  They were in unchartered waters and with time slipping away, they dumped Bones and Dottie Kibble into the hole, with as much dignity as possible. Mark tried to wash th
e blood from his hands in the sand and clay, but it only smeared into a bronze colored stain. As Larry began to fill the grave, Mark retrieved the Colt. He then tossed it into the grave. He never wanted to see that gun, again.

  Larry filled the hole and tamped down the earth until it was smooth with the surface. Satisfied, he then drove the excavator back to where it had been parked and shut off the engine. Mark met him on the road. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  Mark nodded in the direction of his house. “I’m going to take a hot shower,” he said. “And then I’m going to open a beer and turn on the television.”

  “Do you think this is the big one?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope not. I don’t know if they’d tell us, if it was.”

  Larry bowed his head. “You’re probably right. Do you think we did the right thing out here?”

  “I think Bones and Dottie would approve. What else is there?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good way to look at it. I’m going to run. I’ll give you a call to let you know what we’re doing. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. Go to your family.”

  Larry nodded and he began to run down the rutted dirt road. Mark, feeling as if he had just aged ten years, slowly walked up to his house. Just as he said he would, he peeled off his clothes and took a long, hot shower. And he wept.

  Chapter 12

  After he dressed, Mark popped open a beer and walked into his living room. For a long time, he stared at the television before gathering the courage to turn it on. He flipped through the channels, finding stone-faced anchors sitting in front of mushroom cloud graphics, on nearly every station. The imagery was something straight out of a nightmare. Mark settled on one of the network stations and took a long pull on his beer.

  He covered his eyes when he heard the location of the detonation. The chemical weapon, a relatively large one according to the report, had exploded directly over Damascus, Syria. Poison gas had rained down upon Syrians and nearby American soldiers. And just as in the previous missile attacks, no one had stepped forward to claim responsibility. Everyone was pointing fingers. The only thing they could agree on was that the world had never seen such a powerful chemical weapon. Casualties would be in the millions. The United States was now at DEFCON One, the highest state of nuclear alert. This meant an attack was imminent.

  Mark quickly finished his beer, but he stopped himself from having another. If he were about to meet the Great Spirit, he wanted to do it with a clear mind. He thought about walking up to his bunker, but he suddenly found it pointless.

  Vice President Billy Joe gave a short news conference, giving little new information. He insinuated that the United States had a good idea who was behind the attack, but that until they had absolute proof, they would not retaliate. He went on to assure Americans that they were absolutely safe. The missile defense shield was up and running and he described it as nearly impenetrable. That statement did little to raise Mark’s confidence in the system.

  Journalists, embedded in Syria, braved the poison as if it were merely a hurricane. Foolishly, they gave their reports without wearing gas masks. Mark watched in horror as some of the reporters used gallows humor to describe their perilous situations. Adding to the spectacle, were the dozens of commercials that crept endlessly across the television screen. Mark wondered who in their right mind was going to race to McDonalds or Wendy’s, for a hamburger, at a time like this. If there had ever been a moment to suspend advertising, they had arrived there, proving only that money was still the most powerful force in the American world.

  Mark got up from the sofa and began to pace. He cursed at the commercials and shouted at the talking heads, as if they could hear him. The day was rapidly catching up to him, and he could actually feel his grip on reality begin to slip away. He rubbed his temples and fought to hold on.

  A loud knock on his door made him jump. Mark nearly ran from the living room to his front door. He flung it open and found Jumbo standing there. He had changed into jeans and a sleeveless flannel shirt, which made him look like Larry the Cable Guy’s younger brother. “We want you up at the shelter, with us,” he said. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Mark’s automatic answer was no, and he began to shake his head. But the response was halfhearted. “I don’t know,” he said. “I have my own shelter.”

  “Don’t make me go back and get the others,” said Jumbo. “We’ll knock you out and drag you up there, if we have to.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows and then the two men began to laugh. They laughed harder and for much longer than the comment had warranted, but it helped clear Mark’s head. He found that above everything else, he didn’t want to be alone. He picked up his boots and sat down on the bench. “Thank you,” he said. He then picked up his bug-out bag, which he had packed a week ago. Inside the bag were extra clothes and toiletries. “I’m ready.”

  Jumbo nodded and they stepped out into the darkness. He turned on a flashlight and held the beam pointed at their feet. “Do you believe any of this shit?” asked Jumbo. “They have to know who dropped that bomb, don’t they?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, anymore. The good news is that there have been no other reported attacks. I don’t know if they would allow that kind of news to get out, but we have to look at it as a positive sign. How is everyone?”

  “Well, it was hard to get them all up there. Everyone was busy saying their goodbyes on Facebook. Crazy, but they seemed more worried about losing their internet than they were about the nuke. Glick had a helluva time getting Anita out of the house.”

  “Facebook,” muttered Mark. “You do know that every scrap of information people put on there is collected and archived, forever? The FBI and CIA love Facebook. They think it’s the best thing ever invented. People don’t know it, but that shit is going to follow them around and haunt them for the rest of their lives.”

  “I didn’t authorize Facebook to release my personal information.”

  Mark laughed at that. “Oh, yes you did. You did that the minute you signed up for it.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a moot point, now. What difference does it make? This could be all gone by the time we wake up in the morning.”

  “We can’t think that way,” said Mark, but having the same negative thoughts. “We have to hope that cooler heads will prevail and that this will somehow blow over. Stranger things have happened. No one wants to see the world end.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Jumbo. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you again for taking care of Bones and Dottie. I didn’t mean to run out on you guys like that. I just couldn’t handle it, ya know?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I think we did the right thing.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Jumbo, “me too.”

  They paused at the entrance to the bunker. Mark thought Jumbo had something else to say about what had happened, but he just shook his head and waved Mark down the stairs. Mark walked halfway down the stairs and turned to watch Jumbo lock up the heavy steel door. He couldn’t help but wonder if that would be the last time he saw the stars. Mark walked down to the landing and once again, he waited for Jumbo to lock the door on this side of the shelter. The air smelled like new plastic. “You done good,” Mark said. “This is a place you should be proud of.”

  “Thanks,” said Jumbo. He looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “We have five foot of concrete between us and the outside. They’re supposed to fill the hole on Monday; if Monday ever comes.”

  “That’s a lot of concrete.”

  “Tell me about it. You don’t want to know how much it cost.”

  “No, I guess I don’t. Where is everyone?”

  “The women are putting the kids to bed. We can go inside if you want; otherwise I could go in and grab the guys. It might be better if we talked out here.”

  “Little pitchers,” said Mark. “We should probably talk out here.”

  “You want a drink or something?”


  “I’ll take a bottle of water, if you have one.”

  “We have plenty. I’ll be right back.”

  Mark wandered around the outside of the manufactured home. He admired Jumbo’s thought process in putting it together. Leaving a recreation space outside the shelter was a great idea. While it wasn’t particularly large, it would offer a retreat for everyone. Tiffany’s hot tub sat behind a plastic privacy fence and green indoor/outdoor carpeting covered the slab. The strong smell of chlorine filled the air. “Hey buddy,” said Glick, who had snuck up behind him.

  “Hi,” said Mark. “I was just admiring the landscaping.”

  Glick laughed. “Believe it or not, those plants you see are all plastic.”

  “I know that. I can smell them.”

  “Yeah, they kind of stink, don’t they?”

  “Don’t say that too loud,” said Larry, who had been a few steps behind Glick. “The plants were Tina’s idea. We spent a hundred bucks on those.”

  “The smell will fade away,” said Mark. “I think they’re a nice touch. Plastic or not, plants are beautiful.”

  Jumbo appeared from around the corner; in his hands were two bottles of water. He handed one to Mark. “I’m afraid they aren’t cold,” he said.

  “That’s okay. Thank you.”

  “You guys are drinking water?” asked Larry. “I wish I had my camera.”

  “Yeah,” said Glick, “what’s up with that?”

  “I just don’t want to be drunk when I meet my maker,” said Mark.

  Jumbo nodded his head. “Me neither,” he said. “Besides, I’ve been hitting it pretty hard. I’m going to give my poor liver a rest.”

  Larry shrugged and walked over to stand in front of Mark. “So,” he said in a low voice, “do you think this is the big one?”

  “I wish I could tell you. I don’t know, but it just doesn’t feel to me like it is. Think about it: pretty damn convenient that this was another phantom missile. The Pentagon knows exactly who fired that thing, along with who was responsible for the last attack. Call me an optimist, but that tells me that we’re negotiating with someone. I don’t know if it’s the Russians or the Chinese, but I’d lay odds that it’s one or the other.”