Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 1, 2, and 3)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “South, to a small town we passed a half hour ago. I think the sign said Clearwater.”

  “Are we going back home, Mommy?” Jeffrey asked.

  Stephanie kept her eyes on Bunker, never looking down at her son. “Why downhill and not up? Shouldn’t we be heading to Denver?”

  “My rules. My decisions. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask any questions. Maybe you forgot, but I’ve got a son to protect and we don’t exactly know you.”

  Bunker didn’t respond. He only stood there blinking rapidly with that deadpan look of his. Granted, he was a nice-looking man, but Bunker’s stare made her stomach uneasy.

  She continued, “Well, Mr. Bunker, you might as well get used to it right now, I’m gonna ask questions. And I’m gonna need answers. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”

  His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “No, I guess not. Just try to keep it down to a minimum, okay? Otherwise we’re just wasting time.”

  “Agreed. So why south?”

  “Well, Ms. Stephanie, for three reasons. First, we don’t know how far we are from Denver. It could be a couple of days’ walk, or maybe longer. But we do know how long it’s been since we passed the last town. In survival situations, accurate information is key to making good decisions. Decisions that just might save your life. The worst thing you can do is make risky assumptions when your life is on the line.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

  “More or less. Plus the tracks ahead are out. We’d have to find another way around the canyon before we could even think about heading up to Denver. That means miles and miles of additional hiking.”

  “You said there were three reasons.”

  “The third reason is in your pack.”

  “The water bottles?”

  “Yep.”

  She put her hands on her hips and pushed out her jaw. Her hands tugged at the uncomfortable straps of her backpack, wanting to drive home her next point. “Thank you for that, by the way. Such a gentleman.”

  He smiled, showing a set of uneven teeth, one of which was gold. “Look, somebody had to carry it, and your pack was the lightest. So you got the honor.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Hey, I try.”

  “Not hard enough, I’m sure. So what about the water bottles?”

  “Since we can only carry a limited amount of water, we need to take the path of least resistance. We’ll burn far fewer calories and drink only a fraction of the water if we go downhill to Clearwater instead of hiking around the canyon on uneven ground and then heading uphill to Denver.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. But there’s a flaw in your logic.”

  “Oh really? What’s that?”

  “My son and I weren’t going to Clearwater.”

  “How’s that a flaw?”

  “Well, first of all, we were on our way to Denver, not Clearwater. And second, there’s someone in Denver waiting for us—Jeffrey’s grandmother. He hasn’t seen her since last Christmas. Neither have I. And right now, we need her support, with the recent divorce and all.”

  “I can appreciate that, but I’m not headed to Denver. Not anymore.”

  “So this is all about you?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to tag along, remember? Like I said before, nobody’s holding a gun here.”

  “Well then, maybe we should go to Denver on our own.”

  “You can if you want to, but I’d advise against it.”

  “Why?” she said with attitude.

  “A heavily populated city is the last place you want to be when the shit hits the fan.”

  Her hands reacted instantly, covering Jeffrey’s ears. “Hey, watch the language. Young ears around.”

  “Right, sorry,” Bunker said with a stammer.

  She let go of her grip on Jeffrey’s ears. “I take it you’re expecting trouble?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Big-time trouble. If I’m right about what’s happening, everything is about to crumble. Trust me, I’ve seen the underbelly of society firsthand and when it gets desperate, things turn ugly fast.”

  “Desperate? Because of the train stopping and the plane crash?”

  “Bingo. There’s only one thing that I can think of that can take down planes and trains, plus fry cell phones and computers.”

  “You’re talking about an EMP, aren’t you?”

  Bunker’s eyes flared and his posture straightened a bit. “You know what that is?”

  “Yeah, it’s called reading. It’s the thing you do to better yourself in your spare time. What? Did you think I was just another dumb blonde?”

  “No, no, not at all,” he said, stuttering like an idiot. “Just never met a chick who knew anything about science.”

  She didn’t appreciate the chick reference or the blanket statement about women not knowing anything about science. “Well, I do. Some of us actually have a brain and we try to use it whenever we can. Can’t say the same for men. Most of you wander around like rutting cavemen, letting little Willie do all the thinking for ya. Like my ex. That SOB.”

  “Damn, girl. Such hostility. Sounds like someone really did a number on ya.”

  “If ripping out my heart and throwing it down the garbage disposal is called doing a number on someone, then yeah, he did. Can we move on now? Don’t we have somewhere to be? Like Clearwater?”

  “So we’re in agreement? We head south.”

  “Yeah. Your rules. Your decisions. But you better be right, Mr. Caveman, because all our lives are depending on it.”

  “Lucky me,” he said, using the same tone and inflections in his voice that she’d used earlier when uttering the same two words.

  “Cute,” she said with a leer, watching the man open his bag and take out a long-bladed knife. It was wrapped in a leather sheath that carried the initials JT near the top. Bunker attached the sheath to his beltline on the right side.

  “What’s that for?” she asked, seeing the tip of the blade hanging down to the middle of his thigh.

  “Hunting, among other things.”

  “What do you hunt with that? Elephants?”

  “If needed, yes,” he said. “Anything else?”

  There was one other thing—the letters on the knife’s sheath. They were JT and not JB, as she would have expected. She pointed at the knife. “What about those initials? They’re obviously not yours.”

  “Belonged to a man long since forgotten,” he answered, spinning and heading away from her.

  “Did he give it to you?” she asked.

  Bunker didn’t answer and just kept walking away.

  Stephanie thought about asking if he’d stolen the knife, but decided against it. She needed to be careful what she said and how she said it, at least until she knew a lot more about this new traveling companion. For her sake and her son’s.

  Right now Jeffrey was a mostly happy ten-year-old whose birthday was coming up soon. However, like most children his age, he was a sponge and listening to everything being said around him.

  Confrontation and overly negative conversations would only confuse him. Emotionally and mentally.

  If she didn’t want her only child to turn out like his a-hole of a father, she needed to take the high road and keep the conversations with Bunker cordial and clean. Otherwise, her impressionable little man might start to absorb all of this and grow up to be a rude, arrogant piece of navel lint, like her ex—a wealthy man who treated women like secondhand citizens.

  Stephanie brought her focus down to Jeffrey, standing next to her. He was tugging at her hand to follow Bunker down the tracks, so she let Jeffrey lead the way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Forty minutes later Bunker stopped walking next to a railroad control signal and turned to his left, looking down the slope of the raised embankment holding up the tracks. At the bottom was a worn trail running from left to right. It appeared to branch off, cutting a path into
the nearby forest.

  Stephanie and the kid caught up to him and stood on his left. “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “Looks like an old logging road down there.”

  “Is that a good thing or bad?”

  “Logging trails typically lead to larger roads, and that means civilization is not far off. I figured we had to be getting close.”

  “Wait, you want us to go down there?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, resting his hand on top of the control signal post. “This is the best place I’ve seen to work our way down.”

  Jeffrey stuck his arm out and pointed, aiming it at the base of the trees on the left. “Look Mommy, a rabbit.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “Yes, honey. A rabbit. But Mommy’s a little busy right now. Mr. Bunker and I are talking, so I need you to please be quiet until we’re done. Can you do that?”

  Jeffrey nodded, bringing his arm down next to his side.

  Stephanie looked at Bunker, flaring one of her eyebrows. “Did you bring a rope?”

  He hesitated, calculating the distance and trajectory. “No, but we shouldn’t need one.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll just daisy-chain our way lower. Jeffrey first, then you and then me.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Did you ever play Barrel of Monkeys when you were a kid?”

  She nodded. “Once or twice.”

  “So you understand then?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re talking about locking arms and working our way down. But I still don’t like the idea.”

  “Trust me, it’ll work as long I’m the anchor. My strength and weight will be key until we get to the bottom.”

  She looked down the slope and hesitated before shaking her head twice. Then she looked up at him. “I don’t know. That’s a long way down. I think we need at least one more person.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder without thinking, planning to explain.

  She pulled away and shot him a piercing look of concern.

  “Sorry,” he told her, realizing his touch was unwarranted. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Well, Mr. Bunker. Personal space exists for a reason. I suggest you remember that.”

  “Like I said, sorry. My mistake.”

  “Okay then. You were saying?”

  “I was saying that my daisy-chain idea will work. I know it seems like a long way down, but it looks worse than it really is. As long as we use overlapping hand grips and keep our footing, everything should be fine.”

  “What about our luggage?”

  “Simple,” he said, taking the bag off his shoulder and tossing it end over end. The duffle landed with a thud at the bottom, nearly standing straight up before it finally toppled over a second later. His hands latched onto her backpack, hanging on straps over her shoulders. “Your turn.”

  “Wait, let me do it,” she said, sliding out of the straps until the bag was in her hands.

  He let go of the straps. “I take it there’s something breakable inside?”

  “No, not really. Just don’t like strange men touching my things, that’s all. Personal space, remember,” she said with attitude, before tossing the pack over the edge.

  Her aim was spot-on, sending the backpack on top of his. He didn’t know if she meant to do that or not, but it was a soft landing nonetheless.

  “You better be right about this,” she said, repositioning her son in front of her. She took her son’s hand, overlapping her palm and fingers around his wrist and vice versa.

  “Jeffrey, I need you to listen carefully to Mommy. Mr. Bunker and I are going to lower you down little by little, so don’t be scared. Everything’s going to be okay, honey. I promise. Just hang on tight and don’t let go until your feet are at the bottom. Do you understand what Mommy’s telling you?”

  Jeffrey nodded, letting a mile-wide smile grow on his face. “Cool! We’re gonna play Mountaineer. Just like on the huge dirt pile across the street from Daytimers.”

  “Yes, sweetheart. Mountaineer.”

  Bunker wasn’t sure what the term Daytimers meant, but figured it was either the kid’s school name or possibly the name of his daycare.

  When Bunker brought his hands to the front of his waistline and undid the clasp on his belt, Stephanie shot him a concerned look, staring at his hands.

  “Relax, it’s not what you think,” he told her in a steady voice, pulling the leather from his belt loops. His fingers brought the two ends of the belt together, then reengaged the clasp. He wrapped the buckle in his palm then tossed the looping end over the top of the control signal and pulled it tight.

  The look on Stephanie’s face vanished. “Oh, I see what you’re gonna do.”

  “Like I said, I got it covered,” Bunker said. “But I need your son’s too.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Jeffrey, take off your belt and give it to Mr. Bunker.”

  The kid did as he was told and Bunker quickly looped the two belts together. He extended his hand toward her, palm up. “May I?”

  She nodded and held out her hand in response.

  He used an overlapping grip on Stephanie’s palm and wrist, then set his feet before she began to lower her son over the graveled edge.

  Jeffrey sent Bunker a playful smile as he slid down and out of view, with his feet turned sideways and spread out. At that same moment, Bunker felt the mother’s grip double on his wrist.

  When Stephanie began her descent down the embankment, the tug on Bunker’s arm instantly doubled. He inched his feet closer to the edge, needing to maintain his pace with her.

  She was already skittish enough with him and the current situation, so he had to keep his movements smooth and his feet secure. Any sudden jolt or momentary slippage might make her overreact and let go unintentionally, sending the two of them tumbling to the bottom.

  When Bunker’s lead foot passed the threshold and worked its way lower, the rope he’d made out of their belts finally pulled tight. He’d looped it around his hand a few times before they started this process, planning to release more of the slack when the time came.

  He could see clear down to the forest from his position. Jeffrey was three quarters of the way to the bottom and looking up. His face was covered with excitement and his eyes looked electrified.

  “You all right down there, sport?” Bunker shouted, continuing to lower both of them with the remaining slack in the makeshift rope.

  “Almost there,” the boy said, looking up. “You guys are supposed to let me go now so I can slide the rest of the way.”

  Stephanie flashed a look at Bunker, asking for his approval with her eyes.

  “He’ll be okay. Kids don’t break that easy. Besides, he’s probably done this a bunch of times on that dirt pile.”

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Well, he’s your kid. So you need to make the final decision. But I think he’ll be okay.”

  Bunker could see a fleshy bulge race down her throat while she was looking up at him. She gave him a tentative nod, then brought her head down and gazed at her son. “Okay, on the count of three I’m going to let go. You ready?”

  “Yeah, Mom, do it already.”

  When her count reached three, her hand released, sending her son sliding down on his backside through the mixture of gravel and dirt.

  Jeffrey held his hands high and let out a cheerful squeal, as if he was flying down the waterslide at his favorite theme park.

  When the kid’s feet hit the forest floor, his knees bent as they cradled the landing and kept him upright. He spun around and waved his arms at his mother.

  “I’m okay, Mom. Now it’s your turn. Just let go and keep your hands up. It’s really fun.”

  “Mommy’s going to take the slow way down, sweetheart. And so is Mr. Bunker,” she said in a nervous voice, looking up at Bunker as he continued to ease her down a few inches at a time.

  Once the rope slack had been
exhausted, he let go of the tether and tested his footing. Without Jeffrey on the line, the pull on Bunker’s right arm had been cut drastically, giving his shoulder and arm muscles a much-needed break.

  The weight drop also told him he should be able to anchor Stephanie on his own as they worked the rest of the way down. With the exception of her full chest, Stephanie’s physique was ultra thin and she probably only weighed double what her son did. That meant a third of the weight had just vanished when the boy freestyled it to the bottom.

  Bunker noticed Stephanie was looking up at him, so he brought his free hand up to show it to her. Sure, it was mean, but he couldn’t resist, wanting to razz her a little.

  Her eyes flared and her face flushed red. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  He smiled, knowing his ploy worked. “Just take it slow. I gotcha.”

  She froze for a few seconds before nodding and turning her eyes lower.

  A few minutes later, Bunker’s feet landed next to hers and Jeffrey’s. “Like I said, piece of cake.”

  “That wasn’t funny,” she snapped, pulling her wrist free from his grip.

  “Yeah. It was,” he said, not able to hold back a chuckle.

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  He nodded, still laughing. “The look on your face was priceless.”

  “I could’ve been killed.”

  “Not likely. It wasn’t that far of a drop. Besides, I had it covered. You were never in any danger.”

  “But still,” she said, sneering at him before bending down to give her son a hug. “I’m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart.”

  “Mommy, can we climb back up and do it again? That was really awesome!” Jeffrey said with eyes wide.

  Bunker laughed again, watching the reaction on her face. It looked like she was doing all she could not to snap at the kid. Obviously, she wasn’t an outdoors type and probably not into mountaineering, as Jeffrey had called it.

  Bunker patted the boy on the back. “As much as I’m sure your mother would love to do that again, we really need to get moving.”

  A pouty look sprang up on Jeffrey’s face. “Please, Mr. Bunker. Can we do it again? Just one more time. Please.”