Bunkers

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “You rotten bitch!” shrieked Tiffany. “I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill all of you!”

  “Excuse me,” said a city cop with salt and pepper hair. He walked over and pointed at Tiffany. “We’ve heard enough of your threats,” he said. “You’ve been warned.”

  “Screw you!” screamed Tiffany. “You can all just go to hell! I’m going to kill you, Tina! I’ll cut your damn throat!”

  The city cop, a man named Anderson, removed something from his utility belt. He jabbed into Tiffany’s side and her eyes grew large and her head convulsed. Her body twitched, but then it sagged and grew still. Mark smiled. He watched as they carried her limp body over to Barker’s cruiser. Without ceremony, they chucked her into the back of the car and Barker drover her away. Mark felt as if a great burden had just been removed from his shoulders.

  Mark wasn’t sure how it happened, but he and Tina were separated from the Lindeman’s. An elderly gentleman named Pendleton, wearing a tweed jacket and corduroy trousers, arrived at the back of the roadblock in a late model, chocolate brown Mercedes Benz. After a brief discussion with the law enforcement officials, Pendleton introduced himself to Mark and Tina. He was tall and thin, with Einstein hair and a handlebar moustache. Mark pegged him as a college professor, a guess that would soon prove to be correct. “James Pendleton,” he said, offering his hand to Mark. He spoke with a distinct English accent. “Welcome to Kansas City.”

  Mark shook the older man’s hand. “Mark SleepingBear,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you. This lovely young lady is Tina Bell.”

  “Hi,” said Tina.

  Pendleton lifted Tina’s hand and smiled, and with an elegance of a bygone era, he turned it palm-side down and gently kissed it. “It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Tina blushed, but said nothing. Mark looked over for the Lindeman’s, but the entire family seemed to be surrounded by the uniformed officers. “I’d introduce you to our friends, but they seem to be a little busy,” he said.

  Pendleton looked over in that direction and shook his head. Pendleton then returned his attention to Mark. He had piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through him. “Birds of a feather,” he said. “I would like to ask the two of you over for dinner. There are some people there that I’d like you to meet. That is, of course, unless you have a previous engagement.”

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” said Mark.

  Tina gave Mark a shove. “Knock it off.”

  Mark smiled. “We’d love to have dinner with you. Thank you, sir.”

  Pendleton’s smile stretched across his face. “We spoke to a fellow named Gadget on our ham radio. He spoke very highly of you. Did he make the drive down?”

  “No, he didn’t,” said Mark. “He was murdered, just this morning.”

  “Dear God, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “We’d rather not talk about it,” said Tina. “Where do you live?”

  Pendleton nodded. “I live in Southmoreland; it’s a little suburb just south of here. Are you familiar with Kansas City?”

  Mark shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “This is our first trip here.”

  “No worry,” said Pendleton. “I’m parked right over there and you can follow me. Are you driving the RV, or are you in the sports utility vehicle?”

  “We’re in the RV,” said Tina.

  Using his thumb and index finger, Pendleton curled his moustache. “Wonderful,” he said. “Shall we be on our way?”

  They quickly said their goodbyes to the Lindeman’s, who assured them that they would see them soon. They then hopped back into the RV and Mark maneuvered it past the roadblock. They followed the Mercedes as it slowly meandered down the interstate. The sun was now nearly just a memory; the evening sky was streaked with fingerlike clouds, colored in shades of purple and red. Rats boiled out of every vehicle they passed. “Oh my God,” said Tina. “What’s going to happen when they run out of dead things to eat?”

  “We’re going to have to do something about them,” said Mark. “What do you think of Mr. Pendleton?”

  “Pleased, I’m sure,” Tina said, haughtily.

  Mark laughed. After everything that had happened, it was good to see that Tina still had a sense of humor. “I say, old boy,” he said, chuckling. “Chip, chip, cheerio.”

  “I’ll bet he’s got some good food. What do you think we’ll have?”

  “I hear the beef Wellington is superb in Southmoreland.”

  “I’d settle for some fried chicken, or some pizza,” said Tina, licking her lips. They then passed a large group of fallen motorcycle riders. Tina nearly leapt out of her seat as she scrambled for the back. “Forget the pizza,” she said, covering her mouth.

  Mark held his nose as they drove past the churning nightmare of fury rodents. He counted over twenty motorcycles, from what he could tell, all were Harley Davidson models. Many of the rider’s bodies had been picked clean. Swarms of flies hovered over the bodies, patiently waiting their turn to feed.

  They soon entered an exclusive-looking area, filled with grand homes on beautifully manicured lots. The limbs of tall trees arched protectively over the neighborhood. Mark followed Pendleton up to a massive Victorian home and he parked at the curb. The three story house was accented with graceful dormers and a huge front porch, which was nearly as large as the main level of Mark’s home in Minnesota. There were several cars in the horseshoe driveway, the kind of cars that Mark had always dreamed of owning. Tina hunkered down between the seats and looked up at the house. “Oh my God,” she said. “Do you think we should change into nicer clothes? Look at that place, it’s huge.”

  Mark looked down at his dirty clothes and shook his head. “We are what we are and I’ll be damned if we’re going to pretend to be any different. If Mr. Pendleton was having a formal dinner, he should have mentioned that to us. Come on, he’s waving at us to come inside.”

  “He’s going to have to wait for me,” she said. “I need you to open up the trailer. Mark, you never get another chance to make a first impression. You should really clean up. Will you please change your clothes?”

  “No, I’m not going to do that. Tina, we just drove almost five hundred miles. Trust me, they will understand.”

  Tina shook her head. “Open up the trailer.”

  “You open it up, it isn’t locked. I’ll go up and buy you some time. Whatever you do, make it fast.”

  Mark stepped outside and walked up the black strip of driveway. He heard the telltale hum of a generator and saw glowing lights inside the house. Pendleton gave him a questioning look. Mark nodded to the trailer. “Women,” he said, “I’m sorry, but she wanted to change clothes.”

  Pendleton nodded and gave Mark an appraising look. “Yes,” he said, “I’m sure,” he checked his watch. “Well, we do have a few minutes before dinner is served.”

  “Good,” said Mark, not taking the bait. “What have you got to drink?”

  Pendleton smiled and patted Mark on the shoulder. “There’s a good man. Name your poison.”

  “I’ll have a beer, if you have one.”

  “A beer man, yes, I have several domestic labels and some imported brands that are quite tasty.”

  “Make mine a domestic, not shaken or stirred.”

  “Ah, a quick wit, I like that in a man. Please, will you excuse me? I’ll send Rodney out with your beer. Shall I have him fetch one for your lady-friend?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Pendleton laughed at that. “I know I’m a bit of a stuffed shirt,” he said. “But I’m a decent sort of chap, you’ll see.”

  Mark watched Pendleton as he stiffly walked up onto the porch and into his home. “I’ll send Rodney out,” he whispered, mimicking Pendleton’s accent. “Give me a break.”

  He walked back down to the RV and he pounded on the door. “Hurry up,” he said. “We don’t have to impress anyone.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” s
napped Tina. “Will you just settle down?”

  Mark stepped away from the door and kicked the curb. He suddenly wanted to be far away from here. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy, and he had a sinking feeling that soon, he would feel like a fish out of water. That feeling was reinforced when he spotted a man in a tuxedo, wearing white gloves, carrying a tray down to the RV. On the tray were two glasses and two bottles of beer. Rodney was thin and pale skinned, with a fringe of grey hair that encompassed a glowing scalp. “Your beer, sir,” said the butler, lifting the bottle to pour it into one of the crystal glasses.

  Mark shook his head and reached for the bottle. “I’ll drink mine out of the bottle,” he said, “thanks.”

  Rodney handed him the bottle and he looked Mark up and down. “We do have about half an hour before dinner,” he said. “Would you care to freshen up?”

  “I told him to do that,” shouted Tina, from behind the closed door of the Winnebago.

  “I’m fine just the way I am,” said Mark. “I’ve had a long day.”

  Rodney nodded his head and smiled. He then set the serving tray down onto the lawn and he picked up the remaining bottle of beer. He held it out to Mark. When Mark went to take it, Rodney pulled it away. He then touched the bottle to Mark’s. “I’ve had a long day, too,” he said, taking a long pull on the bottle of Miller Lite. “I don’t know what the hell I’m even doing here, anymore. I guess I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  Mark smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Mark SleepingBear.”

  “Rodney Miller,” said the butler, “nice to meet you.”

  Mark drank, relishing the ice cold beer as it slid down his throat. “Why don’t you just walk out? You shouldn’t be serving Pendleton. You should be out creating your own life. You don’t owe him anything.”

  “Oh, but I do. He saved my life. Besides, he’s a dear friend. Don’t be too quick to pass judgment on him. James is the smartest man I’ve ever met, and he has a good heart. I stay here out of respect for the man. If any of us are to survive in this new world, it will be because of men like James Pendleton.”

  “I’ll give him a chance, but he’s got to meet me, halfway,” Mark said, waving his arms around. “None of this means a thing to me, not anymore. Wealth means nothing. If I wanted that house over there, I’d just move into it. Who is going to stop me? Not that I’d want to live out here, but you understand what I mean?”

  Rodney nodded his head and took another swig of beer. “If things were only that simple.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Rodney held a gloved finger to his lips and shook his head. He then stepped onto the sidewalk and began to walk. He waved for Mark to follow. He didn’t speak until they were a hundred feet from the RV, but even then, Rodney spoke in a whisper. “We’ve got trouble. There are people out there who want what we have. Do you have any idea what our most valuable asset is?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mark, holding up his beer, “Miller lite?”

  Rodney laughed. “Wouldn’t that be nice, but no, it’s our women. Do you remember hearing that President Crabtree accepted Russian soldiers into our country, to act as peacekeepers? Well, lucky us, we have a thousand of them, just east of here. Yesterday, they sent a messenger in. Either we surrender our women by Sunday, or they’ll come in shooting.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?”

  Rodney sighed. “I only wish I was. Of course, we’re not going down without a fight.”

  “Well, last I heard, you outnumber them, two to one.”

  Rodney laughed, bitterly. “Maybe last week, but not today, I doubt we have three hundred men in our group. I’m sorry to have to be the one who is telling you this. I didn’t want you to be blindsided in there. Over half of our group has split off, the last we heard they were heading to California. Sunday could be a disaster.”

  “Sunday?” asked Mark, scratching his head, “what day is it now?”

  “Thursday,” said Rodney. “And the clock is ticking.”

  “Why don’t the Russians just attack?”

  “They don’t want to kill any of the women. You’ve got to understand, we’re in a new arms race. This is a race of arms and legs, winner take all.”

  Mark stopped to absorb that. He had never even considered that, but he immediately knew it to be true. Inside his head, he cursed Crabtree. What kind of leader invites enemy troops into his country, to act as peacekeepers? And Mark knew the answer to that: a leader that had already surrendered.

  “Where are you guys going?” asked Tina, who now wore a little black dress.

  “Don’t mention this to her,” whispered Rodney. “None of our women know about it. We’ve all been sworn to silence.”

  “Oh crap,” said Mark. “Yeah, she’d just freak out. I won’t say anything about it, not yet.”

  “Not yet?”

  “They have a right to know. We’re going to have to fight these bastards, and we’re going to need anyone who can hold a rifle.”

  “Hang onto that thought,” whispered Rodney.

  They began walking back toward Tina. Mark could see that she had fixed her hair and had applied fresh makeup. She wore black stiletto heels under the dress. Mark hardly recognized her. He looked down at his dirty, ripped clothing, and then back at Tina. Quickly, she looked away.

  “Tina, this is Rodney,” said Mark. “He’s a friend of Mr. Pendleton’s. Rodney, this is Tina Bell.”

  “I am so pleased to meet you,” said Rodney, delicately shaking Tina’s hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” said Tina, in a voice that sounded foreign to Mark. She was no Vanderbilt, but he now heard it in her voice.

  “Shall we?” asked Rodney. “Our dinner guests are waiting.”

  “Yes,” said Tina, “we shall. Be a good man and lead the way.”

  And at that moment, Mark knew that Tina was lost to him. She had suddenly turned into Tiffany, a chameleon, changing her colors at will. He kicked himself for not seeing this side of her. Her air of arrogance was only outdone by her perfume. Mark set his jaw, seeing what was to come. He didn’t care if the Queen of England was sitting at that table, he was going to be Mark SleepingBear, and damn the torpedoes.

  Chapter 31

  Rodney led them into the house and Mark felt as if he had stepped back into the past. Pendleton’s house was an antique collector’s paradise, where even the light fixtures were from the turn of the twentieth century. The house was much deeper than it appeared to be from the road, and on the inside it was a maze of connecting rooms. Mark paused in a sitting room to admire a collection of vintage firearms, and soon found himself separated from the others. Rather than wander aimlessly about, Mark decided to wait where he was. The smell of gun oil hung in the air, which made him feel at home.

  The walls were lined with glass gun cabinets and from what Mark could tell: Pendleton had arranged the firearms from oldest to newest. Mark moved from case to case, pausing here and there to gaze upon another jewel in the collection. Many of Pendleton’s pieces dated back to the Revolutionary War era, but Mark found himself glued to the cases that contained firearms used in the First and Second World Wars. While he was coveting one of three M1928 submachine guns, Pendleton stepped into the room. “They are exquisite, aren’t they?” he asked.

  “They certainly are,” said Mark. “I’m sorry, I stopped for only a second, but they were gone. I couldn’t help but admire your collection. It’s very impressive.”

  “Thank you, Mark. I’m quite proud of my babies. Do you know much about firearms?”

  “I know a little.”

  Pendleton smiled. “I’ll bet you do,” he said, giving Mark a sly wink. “Come now, our guests are waiting.”

  Mark followed Pendleton down a narrow hallway and through a library filled with bookshelves and antique furniture. They walked through a set of double doors and Mark found himself in another sitting room. There were three men seated there and Mark suddenly wished he had taken Tina’s advice. Two of
the men were dressed in business suits, while the other wore a military uniform. The green dress uniform denoted the man as Army; the eagles he wore on his shoulders, each facing forward, told Mark he was a full bird colonel. Pendleton began by introducing him to the men in suits.

  “Mark SleepingBear,” said Pendleton, “this is John Wainwright. John is in charge of the Noah Program. Have you heard of it?”

  Wainwright was short and stocky, and Mark guessed him to be somewhere around forty years old. Mark shook Wainwright’s hand and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of it.”

  Wainwright smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “most people haven’t.”

  “We’ll tell you all about it, later,” said Pendleton. “It’s fascinating stuff, old boy. Now, let me introduce you to Walter Allenby. Mr. Allenby is the Dean of the University of Missouri. I also work for the college.”

  Dean Allenby gave Mark a dismissive look. He was a few years older than Pendleton and his white hair was short cropped. Mark had met book-smart men like Allenby before, men who could build nuclear reactors, but couldn’t change their own motor oil. He offered his hand to Allenby. “Pleased to meet you,” said Mark.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” was all Allenby could muster as a reply.

  Pendleton sighed and ushered Mark over to the last man, who, unlike Allenby, stood up to greet him. “Mark, this is Colonel Mack Klinger, of the United States Army.”

  Instinctively, Mark snapped to attention and he saluted the man. Klinger returned the salute and smiled. “At ease,” he said in a shredded voice. “SleepingBear, is it?”

  “Yes sir,” said Mark, relaxing, but just a little.

  “That’s a fine name,” said Klinger. “Some of my best soldiers were Native Americans.”

  “Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, cut it out,” said Allenby. “Mack has been retired for ten years.”

  “Yeah?” asked Klinger, turning to face the puffy-faced Allenby. “You want to make something of that?”