Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 5)

by Jay J. Falconer

  Bunker’s vision was still spotty, but improving with each passing minute. There was someone in a white lab coat, standing at an angle, facing away, about three feet beyond the foot of the bed.

  It was a man, the heavy stubble on the side of his face evident between the flecks and blobs floating in Bunker’s sightlines. The stranger was short, dark-complected, with mostly black hair. His eyes appeared to be focused on a clipboard, reviewing a thin stack of paperwork.

  Bunker peered down, feeling the squeeze of another bandage. This one was along his right side, just under his armpit, covering a swatch that extended down to his waistline. The skin under the cotton wrap ached with each breath he took, stressing the stitches that he assumed were hiding beneath.

  His left forearm had been wrapped with a fresh dressing as well. More stitches, he assumed.

  Damn, he wasn’t sure if he resembled the laces on a football or an old lady’s Christmas quilt, the embroidery everywhere. Either way, he was happy to be resting for a change.

  “Well, well. Good of you to join us,” the man in the lab coat said, his Italian accent clear and evident.

  At that moment, more clues came together. Bunker knew he was at the clinic in Clearwater. That meant the man in front of him was Doc Marino.

  Bunker tried to sit up, but pain in his side wouldn’t allow it. He winced, flopping back to the sheet. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me.”

  “You just had surgery, Jack. What you’re feeling is the aftereffects of the makeshift anesthesia I used. Sorry about that, but the supplies are limited around here. I had to improvise a little, using a combination of techniques. It took me a while to clean out the infections and remove the dead tissue from your wounds. You’re pretty damn lucky, my friend. A lesser man would never have remained on his feet as long as you did. It’s a miracle you’re still with us after the blood loss and dehydration.”

  Bunker was shocked to hear those words. He didn’t think he was injured that badly. Maybe it was a cumulative effect of the last few days.

  The Doc handed him four pills. Tiny, yellow, and round. “Here, take these. It will help.”

  Bunker held his palm out. “What are they?”

  Marino gave him the meds and a small cup. “At this point, does it matter?”

  “No, not really, as long as it helps.”

  “It will, just give it a few minutes. Between the concussion, blood loss, infections, exhaustion, and the modified Propofol cocktail I used, it might take a bit for the cobwebs to clear. Normally, procedural sedation requires a fifteen-minute recovery period, but in your case, it will probably require more time. I had to exceed the maximum dosage in order to keep you out. Big men like you usually require a heavier mix. Plus, I had to administer the dosage in increments, keeping close watch so that I did not stop your heart.”

  “I appreciate that, Doc. Though there’ve been more than a few women back in the day that said I didn’t have a heart anyway.”

  Marino laughed.

  Bunker popped the pills into his mouth and chased them down with the small amount of water in the cup. It wasn’t until that very moment that he realized he was thirsty, almost as if he’d been asleep for weeks. “How long have I been out?”

  “Thirty-two hours.”

  “Damn, Doc. That must have been some cocktail.”

  “Actually, that was all you, Jack. My guess is your adrenaline system was keeping you alive and moving. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

  “Not sure. It’s all a blur right now.”

  “You’re lucky I had a few reserve units of blood available. Otherwise, I’m not sure we’d be chatting right now.”

  Bunker blinked a few more times. Right on cue, the specks disappeared from his vision. The pounding in his head had lessened as well. What had started as a twelve on the ten-scale was now around a seven. He exhaled after a long, exaggerated breath, allowing his chest to expand with air.

  Doc let out a thin grin, looking confident. “I take it the meds are starting to kick in.”

  “Yes, thank you. For a while there, I thought someone had cracked me over the head with a pipe. Been there, done that, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. The Kindred?”

  Bunker didn’t want to admit it, but the secret was out. “Not my finest hour.”

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t help notice the tattoos. There’s a story there, I take it.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. But that’s the old me, Doc. I’m not that man anymore.”

  “What about those scars on your neck?”

  Bunker chuckled. “My version of tattoo removal.”

  “You did that yourself? Those look like serious third-degree burns, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You’re right. Hurt like a bitch, but that’s what happens when you use a blowtorch. I was a little desperate at the time. Again, not my finest hour.”

  Doc hesitated, obviously shocked by the confession. “I’m surprised sepsis didn’t set in as a result.”

  “Nah, I cleaned and dressed the skin. All part of our field medic training.”

  “You served?”

  “Marine Corps. I was a Sapper, which is basically a combat engineer. Explosives were my specialty.”

  “Well, thank you for your service.”

  Bunker nodded, but didn’t respond. The conflicting emotions in his heart about his time in the military wouldn’t allow him to answer. Not with honor or conviction. Sometimes, it’s better to just keep your mouth shut.

  “I will be back in a few minutes to check on you,” Doc Marino said, turning for the door. He was in the hallway and out of sight ten steps later.

  Bunker put his head back on the pillow and shut his eyes.

  Sleep found him again.

  CHAPTER 30

  When Bunker opened his eyes again, he found himself still on his back in the hospital bed, only this time his head was turned to the right, facing the window. Beyond the glass was total darkness, the sun long since missing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but at least his headache was gone.

  He grunted out of habit before correcting his head position on the pillow. The artificial lights across the ceiling seemed brighter than before, making him blink rapidly to clear the sudden wave of spots.

  Wait a minute, he thought quietly. How could the lights be on?

  He looked at the rolling carts next to the bed. Their lights were blinking. The power was back on. He didn’t understand how, but he was happy to see it.

  “Hey there, sunshine,” a familiar voice said, the words delivered in perfect English.

  Bunker brought his eyes to the left. Mayor Buckley was arriving in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown. He looked a thousand years old, the bags under his eyes puffy, with heavy shadows beneath.

  Rusty was behind the chair handles, steering his grandfather on an intercept course. A grin took over Bunker’s lips as the words arrived. “Damn good to see you, Mayor. You too, Rusty.”

  “I could say the same thing about you,” Buckley said in a steady tone, glancing back over his shoulder at Rusty, before bringing his attention back to Bunker. “From what my grandson told me, you’ve had quite the adventure the past few days.”

  “You could say that, but I’m afraid I won’t be dancing a jig anytime soon.”

  “Yeah, you and me both, brother. But at least we’re still alive and kicking. Rico and Zeke filled me in on the rest a little while ago. This town owes you a debt of gratitude, Jack, one I’m afraid we will never be able to repay.”

  “Well, it wasn’t just me out there. Rusty was a big part of what happened. Without his help, I doubt any of us would have survived. You should be proud, Mayor. I know I am. He really stepped in when it mattered most.”

  Buckley smiled, looking honored.

  “I never had kids, but if I did, I’d want a son just like Rusty. You did well raising him, sir.”

  “Thank you. It’s not been easy over the years, but we’re getting t
hrough it,” Buckley said, turning his head. “Right, Rusty?”

  “Yes, Grandpa. I’m just glad you both are going to be okay.”

  Buckley nodded. “Doc Marino is a miracle worker, I tell ya. I don’t know what we’d do without him. Looks like he spent a little time on you, too, Jack.”

  Bunker couldn’t hold back a laugh, aggravating the patchwork along his side. He winced before answering. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a tank.”

  “Curious choice of words, from what I’ve heard. A tank, huh? With Stephanie at the controls?”

  Bunker raised an eyebrow, thinking about the severed head hanging from the cannon. “We had to improvise, but she did a great job. Only complained a couple of times the whole way.”

  “That must be a record for her,” Buckley said as a full grin took over his lips.

  Stephanie’s beautiful face flashed in Bunker’s mind, her eyes fierce and lips pinched. “The more I get to know her, the more I appreciate how rare that is.”

  “And that terrible business with Burt?”

  Bunker shrugged, tucking in a lip before he spoke. “Yeah, who knew?”

  “It’s a shame, really.”

  “What about the Sheriff?”

  Buckley shook his head, his lips silent. He didn’t have to say anything; his eyes gave away the answer.

  “He was a brave man,” Bunker said, feeling a stab of pain slam into his chest.

  “He will be missed by all those who were lucky enough to have known him,” Buckley said, using that tone that politicians turn to when they’re addressing a tragedy. He flashed a hand signal to Rusty. “Why don’t you get Jack a little water? He looks thirsty.”

  Bunker licked his lips. “That’s an understatement.”

  Rusty grabbed a pink water pitcher from the rolling tray a few feet away. He gave it to Bunker after adjusting the direction of the straw protruding from it.

  Four sips later, Bunker gave the small jug to Rusty. The water was beyond refreshing, invigorating his body. He pointed at the ceiling. “The power’s back?”

  “Just here, unfortunately. A bunch of the guys pitched in an hour ago and moved the only working generator to the clinic. Everyone wants to see you get better, Jack.”

  “Wow, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  A long silence hung in the room, before Buckley spoke again. “Okay then, we should probably get going. There are some other people outside who want to say hi. Are you up for it?”

  Bunker was tired and wished he could say no, but he felt obligated after what the town had just done for him. “Sure. Not a problem.”

  “You take care now. We’ll stop back in a little later to check on you.” With that, Rusty spun the chair and rolled Buckley out of the room.

  A few seconds later a pair of crutches came through the door. So did Megan, her face lighting up in an ear-to-ear smile.

  “Jack!” she shrieked, working the crutches with lightning speed.

  Bunker’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He pushed himself into a sitting position, powering through the pain.

  The ebony child wrapped her arms around him the instant she arrived, her crutches falling to the floor in a loud crack. She had to stand on her toes and lean over the edge of the bed to reach him.

  Bunker wanted to say something as she squeezed him tight, but he couldn’t find the words. He was content to just hang on in silence.

  She let go a minute later, standing with more weight on her good leg. “I brought you a present!”

  “You did?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s a special present,” she said, pulling an energy bar from her pocket. She held it up. “I wanted to get you something else, but they wouldn’t let me. They said you can’t eat it until later, when you’re all better.”

  “Thank you, Megan,” Bunker said, taking it from her, his heart filling with joy.

  The video player in his mind replayed a scene of him with Megan before he left Tuttle’s homestead. They were sitting together on the horse feeding station when he peeled open the wrapper on the treat he’d brought to cheer her up.

  Now she was doing the same for him.

  He was touched. Again, there were no words to express what he was feeling.

  Stephanie and Jeffrey walked into the room next. Their pace was slow until Jeffrey broke free from his mom’s hand in a sudden tug, then took off in a full sprint, his tiny feet pounding at the linoleum floor.

  Jeffrey stood next to Megan with anxious feet, looking as if he was about to pee his pants. “Hi Jack!”

  “Hey sport. It’s good to see you.”

  Stephanie flashed Bunker a tentative smile, standing a few feet back, while the kids took the lead at the side of the bed.

  Bunker pointed across the room. “Jeffrey, why don’t you fetch my pants from the closet over there.”

  “Okay,” the boy said, flying to the closet and returning a few moments later.

  Bunker put his hand into the pocket and took out the Pokémon card. He gave it to Jeffrey. “Thanks for loaning this to me. It probably saved everyone’s life. Especially mine.”

  Jeffrey grinned, snatching the card. It looked like he was about to ask a question, but he stopped when Stephanie stepped forward, corralling the little ones with her hands. “Come on, kids. Mr. Bunker needs his rest.”

  “Bye Jack,” Jeffrey said before picking up Megan’s crutches and giving them to her. He walked next to her as she navigated the room, hobbling through the door a few strides later.

  Stephanie remained behind, her eyes locked on her son and Megan. As soon as the kids were out of sight, she turned and leaned forward, kissing Bunker full on the lips. It was closed mouth, but she held contact for a good five seconds.

  After she released her lip lock and stood upright, Bunker said, “Well, hello to you, too. What was that for?”

  “A thank you. From everyone,” she said, turning her eyes to the door as if she expected something to happen.

  Just outside, Allison Rainey and her mother Martha came into view. Victor appeared as well, and so did Dicky, towering behind the family. He stood tall with arms folded across his chest, looking both the part of sentry and that of warrior.

  Bunker raised a hand to his forehead and sent the goliath a momentary salute.

  Dicky stuck out his chin and nodded once in return.

  All four of them turned ninety degrees and walked away, as if their task were complete.

  “That poor girl,” Stephanie said, shaking her head.

  “Who, Allison?”

  Stephanie twisted her mouth to the side. “You weren’t there when she and Gus finally kissed. It was like something outta the movies. She’s just gotta be heartbroken.”

  “If she is, she’s not showing it.”

  “I’m afraid she’s keeping it all inside at the moment. I’m not sure if that’s for her sake or for her son’s, but eventually she’s gonna need to deal with what she’s feeling.”

  “And Misty?”

  “She disappeared as soon as we got back to town. So did Albert and his sidekick.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “But Dallas found his mom and sisters. That’s something at least. I’m sure they’ll be in tomorrow to say hi.”

  “I look forward to meeting them.”

  Stephanie leaned forward again, coming right at him. Bunker thought she was going for another smooch, but that was not what happened. Stephanie brought her lips next to his ear and whispered, “I know what you did, Jack.”

  Bunker paused, working through the words she’d just used. His gut was telling him she was referring to Bill King’s death. Her ex.

  Stephanie continued, her lips only an inch from his ear. “Grace filled me in. You should have told me yourself.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how to tell you that I’d killed your son’s father.”

  “From what Grace said, you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I didn’t. I hope you can f
orgive me. But the Mayor’s life was at stake and I had to do something.”

  “I know, but please don’t say anything to Jeffrey. Let me tell him when the time is right.”

  Stephanie pulled back and stood with her trademark piercing eyes locked onto his. She was clearly waiting to see what he was going to say next.

  “You got it. My lips are sealed. I won’t say a word.”

  Stephanie picked up his hand and held it softly. She rubbed her thumb across the skin, her eyes welling with tears. One dripped down her cheek after her lips started trembling. She spread his fingers apart and laced hers with his, holding on tight.

  Bunker didn’t know what to make of the gesture. “What’s wrong, Steph?”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye.” Her voice cracked as she stammered through the sentence.

  Her words took him by surprise. “You’re leaving?”

  She nodded, her lips sealed in a thin line until she spoke again. “Dicky’s going to take me and Jeffrey to Denver in the morning. I need to go find my mom and the rest of my family.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Bunker didn’t want her to leave, but he wasn’t going to stop her. Family had to come first. “Dicky will keep you safe. He’s a good man, Steph.”

  “Yes, he is,” she said as more tears flooded her cheeks. She stood there in silence for another thirty seconds before she let go of his hand. “There’s one more person waiting to see you.”

  Bunker nodded in silence, wishing he could formulate his feelings into words. She was obviously waiting for him to say something meaningful. But he came up dry.

  Stephanie looked disappointed when she turned away, putting a hand over her mouth in an emotional gasp. She left the room in a fast shuffle, crying.

  A moment later, a new person appeared in the doorway wearing a uniform and a Sheriff’s badge. It was Daisy, her hair pulled up and back, looking amazing.

  Her tender eyes met his, holding his stare for what seemed like forever. Then she walked in, taking a direct course to him.

  Bunker drew in a sudden breath, never taking his eyes from her. The new Sheriff knew his darkest secrets. He wondered how her new role would play out, both for her and for him.