Before the fall, Zack was not the type of person to hold a grudge. Everything seemed to slide off his back, unless it had to do with his store’s eminent closing. Nothing really seemed to faze him except the beauty of Anita every time she walked through his door and talked to him. Things changed in him when the world changed. It was no longer about profits and friendships; it was about peoples’ lives, and Luke had endangered them all. How was he supposed to let him off the hook for that? How could he ever trust a man who only looked out for himself at the expense of everyone else?
“Why don’t you come up here, then, and lead the way?” Zack barked back.
It took everything in him to make the suggestion. The last thing he wanted was for Luke to be walking alongside him, listening to his pathetic whining and self-pitying. But facts were facts. Luke knew where they were going and Zack had no idea. Whether he liked it or not, he needed him right now. He was their best chance at survival if what he said was true and they were going to find a group of survivors with an underground bunker willing to provide shelter. He hadn’t told Christine and the others yet, but the plan was that he continue on without them into Chicago. He would deliver the journal to the disease research center alone, so no one else had to risk their lives. They could wait peacefully in safety with others who would make sure they were taken care of. He feared telling this to Christine most. She seemed to take on the weight of responsibility the journal held all for herself. There was no way she was going to let him go quietly without her.
“Look, up there,” Luke said as he walked to the front of the group to stand next to Zack. “There it is…the bunker.”
II
They stared across an empty field of ragged corn husks.
“Are you sure this is it?” Zack asked Luke, who stood next to him hunched with arms folded.
“I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but you’ll be surprised, I think.”
Zack surveyed the land quickly, trying to spot where the entrance to the underground might be. There was a barn and an old farm house, heavy equipment strewn across the field, but he didn’t see a set of storm doors or any entrance into the underground.
Imani walked past Luke and Zack, taking no time to look back to see if anyone was following. She was eager to get back home and see everyone she had grown accustomed to and comforted by since arriving at the bunker. The group followed her out into the field and then into the corn. She moved confidently towards a broken down rusted tractor, where she stopped. With a quick look over her shoulders to make sure the group was close by, she lifted her foot and stomped it down three times. It wasn’t the dull thud of porous ground, but a hollow banging that followed.
They waited for something to happen, listening with alert ears, but all that could be heard was the hissing of the cool wind and black crows cawing overhead. Imani didn’t attempt to repeat the action, but waited patiently three steps to the left of where she’d originally stomped. After a painfully long two minutes, the ground parted and was thrown aside, sending dead leaves scattering. That’s when the group saw it, the wooden door that led down into the ground.
Without hesitation, Imani lowered herself into the dark hole and climbed down an unseen ladder. Luke looked at Zack with a cocky grin, as if he had been the one to build the bunker and invite them into safety himself. Zack wasn’t fooled, though. In fact, he barely felt any appreciation for the man and the opportunity he brought before them, especially since he had to threaten it out of him.
“Well,” Zack said exasperated. “After you.”
Luke took a few more seconds to lock eyes with Zack and make sure he knew they were only there because of him and his generosity. He didn’t have to say a word. His smile said it all. He turned and lowered himself down as his teenage daughter had done just a moment ago, disappearing into the blackness below.
Zack knew he would have to be the one to go down next. What had he gotten himself into? As he used his boot to feel for the first rung in the ladder, he breathed in the dank air of the hole he was about to descend into. Why was he trusting this proven untrustworthy man? Was it his daughter? She was Luke’s offspring, bred with half his genes, but she was the complete opposite of the man who had perfected pushing each and every one of Zack’s buttons. She was courageous, strong, a fighter and a survivor in every way. She must take after her mother, Zack thought as the ground disappeared over his head. Suddenly, the sun was blocked out as someone else found their footing on the ladder, their body blotting out the sun.
“I’m heading down, too,” Gretchen’s voice called. With how wide and deep the entrance to the bunker was, Zack expected an echo, but there was none. Gretchen’s voice soaked into the walls, disappearing from existence altogether.
Zack climbed down further and further. He started to wonder if his feet would ever hit the ground. That was when his foot missed a step and he fell. His hands gripped the ladder rung, but it was too late. Down he went, but his back was quickly met by the ground with a dull thud. He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes that had clenched tightly shut. Pushing himself up, he brushed off the dirt from his pants and stepped out of the way in case Gretchen came tumbling down on his head.
A few yards ahead, he saw a small light and three shadows. They seemed to be waiting for the others to join them. Once Gretchen jumped down from the last rung with ease, Zack took hold of her hand and gently pulled her forward to meet Imani, Luke, and the stranger with them.
“I didn’t think this place would be so far down,” Zack said to the stranger in awe. He tilted his head back to look up at the compacted dirt ceiling supported by wooden beams.
“We wanted to make sure we had an impenetrable safe haven,” the man said in a deep, gruff voice. “No zombies finding their way down here, that’s for sure.” The man chuckled, jiggling the flashlight in his stubby hands. “I’m Mac by the way,” he said as he reached out his hand. “Mac Caraway. This was my father’s farm before the dead took over. I worked here with him, hoping it would one day be mine…just not like this…”
Zack shook his hand and looked into his deep eyes that looked almost black in the darkness of the tunnel. “Zack,” he said.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mac,” Gretchen said as she stretched out her hands and took his in both of hers. “We’ve all suffered terrible loss.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Mac said with a sniffle. The robust man did not try to hide the fact that he was wiping fresh tears from his cheeks and grizzly beard.
In that time, the rest had made it down the ladder and joined them, ready to see what the place had to offer.
“Well, let’s show you around and get you acquainted,” Mac said with a smile. He shone the flashlight forward to light the way.
Christine was the last to make it down, so that meant that she was at the tail end of the group and far from Zack’s site. This would normally make him nervous, he always wanted to keep a close eye on her in case she bolted, but in this case it eased his worry. If there was something wrong with this group or their bunker, he was the strongest and the first to face any danger. Trouble did not always meet him head on, though. Sometimes it attacked from the rear and tried to stab him in the back. That’s why having Christine, with her deadly bow in hand, made him feel safe. He trusted her to take care of them, even if she’d let him down in the past.
Would Liam, or whoever it was whispering lies into her ears, try to convince her to let them die down there if the bunker group attacked them? Would he be able to convince her that she was better off on her own than with the others, as he tried to before? Zack looked over his shoulder just to make sure. He saw her light golden ponytail whipping from side to side as she turned her head to take in the full view of the narrow, high tunnel they made their way through. His heart slowed and he was able to take a deep breath again. She was safe. She was still with them. Guess he didn’t trust her fully after all.
Distant sounds met their ears as they jou
rneyed further into the tunnel. There was clanking, talking, laughter, banging, chopping, and other non-distinguishable but familiar noises. Their eyes adjusted as light grew ahead of them, opening up into a larger area with shining silver walls. The group stopped at the tunnel’s exit, their eyes unblinking as they took it all in.
Mac stretched out his arms in presentation. “Welcome to the bunker!”
III
The narrow tunnel opened up into a room that was larger than anyone in the group expected. The ceiling shone a metallic silver and stood a good twelve feet above them. Zack looked up as he stepped out from the darkness and into the light of the bunker, seeing the blurred reflection of himself above. The walls glistened with the same silver as the ceiling and spread out to encompass at least a thousand square feet in that one room alone. Within the walls were heavy metal doors, each about twelve feet apart, evenly spaced, all the way around. Zack’s eyes moved along the walls, wondering what was behind each door. He had to remind himself to let his guard down and give the place and people a fair chance because a part of him wanted to believe nothing good could be behind them.
“This is incredible,” Gretchen mused in awe.
The others murmured their agreement as they spun to take it all in.
“Yeah, my dad was a bit of a nut if truth be told. He survived several wars and had a touch of PTSD and paranoia. Thank God for that or we wouldn’t have this underground habitat to live in, right?” Mac chuckled again and this time it infected some of the others, if only with optimistic smiles.
“Your dad built all of this?” Zack asked, hoping he hid the skepticism that crept through his heart and mind.
“Sure did. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, bless his soul. He believed the end was near, that aliens, or another race superior to us was going to come in and take over and that the family would need somewhere to hide out till they could be defeated. Guess he wasn’t entirely crazy, the old cook. Not saying these dead things are superior to us or nothing, but they sure did do a number on humanity.”
Zack nodded his head, still twisting his body and craning his neck to examine his surroundings. He felt the gentle warmth of another arm rest up against his. Christine had made her way forward from the back of the group and stopped next to her friend. Her face was smeared with bits of dirt. Her usually vibrant honey blonde hair looked dusty and ragged, pulled back into a long hanging ponytail. He could tell she was guarded as well, not fully accepting of the gift of safety and opportunity they’d just been given. “Nothing comes so simply” was what her eyes said. There had to be a catch. There had to be a downside to all this good. If there was, Zack would find it. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to his group.
Imani walked past them, raised her hand without stopping to slap it against Mac’s palm, and continued onward into the room. She made her way to one of the uniformed doors, opened it, and disappeared behind it without a word.
“Kid’s glad to be back home, huh?” Mac said as he smiled with familiarity at Luke.
“Think she’s more excited to get away from me.”
Mac’s eyes softened as he chuckled this time, placing his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “That ain’t true, brother. She knows just how lucky she is to still have her daddy in this world. She’ll come around. Just give her time.”
Luke stretched his mouth awkwardly to one side as he nodded his head, eyes focused on the dirt ground. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it, brother. That’s what I’m here for.”
Through the entire exchange, Zack kept his eyes on Mac, studying his facial expressions for genuineness, searching for any hint of deception or manipulation, but he couldn’t find any. The man meant what he said to Luke and he truly wanted to help. He knew that was a rare find, in this fallen world or in the one before.
“Don’t you think it’s a risk opening up what you have here to others?” Zack let his eyes graze over the few other people who were moving around busily, going about their day’s work. “I mean, aren’t you worried at all? You don’t know us, who we are, what we want. Aren’t you afraid of losing this place?”
Mac took a deep breath as he considered the string of questions. His gentle eyes turned upward for a moment before making their way back to Zack’s weather-beaten face. “Not one bit,” he said. “Something this good wasn’t meant to be selfishly hoarded, it was meant to be shared. I can’t turn people away to their death. I can’t sit by while innocent lives are lost to those soulless beings up there. I just can’t. I hope you understand, son, that we don’t invite you into this place lightly. We will be talking more so I can make sure you’re not a threat to this community, but I will not turn the innocent away to protect myself. I just can’t.”
The man kept eye contact the entire time he spoke, to the point where Zack’s brain was begging him to break it and look away, but he refused. Mac’s voice dripped with sincerity and kindness, and his smile warmed Zack’s heart as it beat tirelessly in his aching chest.
“Thank you,” a soft voice spoke up to Zack’s surprise, “for sharing what you have with us. I promise, we will not harm you, your people, or what you have.” Christine offered to Mac with the brightest smile of pure warmth, a smile Zack hadn’t seen grace her lips in the longest time.
“Well, thank you for that, little miss. That gives me great pleasure to hear. I sure hope you mean every word you say, too. But I’m sure you do.” Mac returned her smile, wrinkle for wrinkle, tooth for tooth. “How about we give you the grand tour?” Mac turned around, removing his hands from his pockets and displayed them out in grand gesture again.
“This is the main living area. It’s safe to say that this is where the magic happens.” He took a few steps forward and pointed over to the first three doors to the left. “Over there is the kitchen, the panty, and storage for cooking items.” He turned on his heel and pointed over to the first two doors on their right. “Over there is our public restroom area, one for boys and one for girls. Don’t let me catch you doubling up or where you don’t belong.” He chuckled to himself and led the group further into the center of the room. “The other doors belong to the community and serve as their private quarters. Each room is about ten by ten in size, has a bed, a nightstand, a lamp, a shelf, and whatever provisions each person brought in to make it their own. My quarters are no different than anyone else’s. I don’t rule this place like a king or nothing. There’s only room for one king in this world.” Another chuckle and off he went to the communal area best described as a living room. He rested himself on the arm of a couch and folded his hands across his portly chest. “We grow our own food as you saw upstairs.” His eyes shifted upward so the group would know he was talking about the world above. “We can our own preserves and we find our own supplies. We do not steal from others. We share everything down here. Is there anything else you’d like to know? Or any questions I can answer for ya?”
The group looked on at the man in silence. There was so much they wanted to know that they couldn’t formulate a single question between their eight brains. Luke had wandered from the group and retired to his own quarters without anyone noticing. Each exchanged glances with each other, as if challenging the other to speak up, but no one did. Eventually, the gazes landed on Zack, who looked to Mac with a weary, but thankful expression.
“We really appreciate you allowing us to take shelter here.”
“My pleasure…uh…” Mac fished for an introduction.
“Sorry, Zack.” He turned to the others and pointed them out as he called them by name. “This is Christine and her sister Gretchen. That’s Rowan over there, and Carolyn next to him. The spitfire there is Olivia and the giant next to her is Lee. In the back there is Dan.” He said the last name quickly, as if it were an afterthought. The lack of forgiveness he felt towards Dan still panged at his heart whenever he noticed the young man was still there with them, hiding out among the
others, going unnoticed. Blending in and keeping quiet was certainly a talent of his, and one that Zack came to appreciate in his bitterness.
Zack turned back to the man in charge down there, the kind-faced Mac, and took a step closer to speak softly. “Could we talk later tonight?” he asked, leaning in close to the older man’s ear. “In private, I mean?”
Mac nodded his head and smiled. “I think we can arrange that, sir. I’d be happy to have a cup ‘a coffee with you and chat about your group.”
Zack gave a strong nod of appreciation and smiled back. The group didn’t know what it was Zack had planned for them, what he was going to talk to Mac about later in order to protect them and ultimately save their lives, but it had to be done that way, in secrecy and whispers. If they knew he was going to leave them behind to finish the journey on his own, some might not let him go. They’d insist they come with him and finish it out together…and he couldn’t let Christine do that.
IV
The group stuck close together as they idled in the main gathering area of the bunker. Dozens of people bustled to and fro, passing them with smiles and greetings as they procured food for the day, made meals, cleaned, stored items, and helped each other in whatever needed to be done. It was amazing how highly functioning and efficient the people in the bunker had become with less than a year of living and working together under their belt. Christine watched them with wide, wondering eyes. Why hadn’t she been able to build a community like this in the apartment complex? Why had everything fallen apart there when they were a group of people willing to work together too? They had achieved safety from the zombies in being off the ground for the most part, and yet their community had fallen and loved ones died. Her mind was brought back to poor baby Lilly whose body was never discovered among the wreckage in her parents’ apartment. Her mother was torn apart by her father, who had been transformed into a nightmare come to life. Christine’s eyes glazed over with tears as she couldn’t help picturing the nine-month-old suffering, being torn to bits by the teeth of the man she trusted most in her short and fragile life.
Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road Page 9