by Lee Bradford
Paul glanced into the back seat to find Buck out cold, a patch of blood staining his bandaged wound. The young soldier who’d talked his commanding officer into allowing them to come along—Paul thought his name was Brett—had said they were heading for a bunker somewhere outside the city. But they’d already driven through three states over the course of several hours.
As the long column of military and civilian vehicles drew closer to the mountain, Paul could see it stood in the middle of the lake, like a medieval castle surrounded by a deep moat. A pontoon bridge spanned the waterway and as the first vehicles began to cross, Paul was suddenly sure they were about to enter the most secure piece of real estate in the country.
Autumn leaned forward from the backseat, staring through the windshield wide-eyed. “Are we there yet?”
“Seems that way,” Paul replied. “How’s your grandpa doing?”
She touched the side of his neck with the pads of her fingers and waited. “He’s got a pulse.” Autumn’s eyes rose to a place just over Paul’s shoulder. “Holy cow!”
Metal clanged as the locking bolts on a giant vault door opened slowly before them. The lead Humvees entered followed by the rest in line. For a moment, Susan hesitated. Several of the civilian vehicles behind her beeped.
“What is it, honey?” Paul asked his wife.
She clutched the wheel. “Nothing important,” she replied.
If their many years of marriage had taught Paul anything, it was that ‘nothing’ always meant ‘something’. Susan nudged the Hummer’s front tires onto the pontoon bridge and drove them across. “Besides,” she finally said. “We need to get ourselves out of this radiation as soon as possible.”
“We do,” Paul added. “Especially before too many rads mutate Buck into a grouchy old coot.”
“Dad, I think we’re a little late for that,” Autumn replied, grinning nervously.
Almost on cue, Buck rolled over and began to snore. The three burst into fits of laughter which continued until the vault door closed behind them with a thunderous boom.
Chapter 3
The row of military and civilian vehicles traveled down a dimly lit tunnel into the heart of the mountain. Reflectors embedded into the asphalt as well as small cage lights mounted on the passageway’s walls were the sole source of illumination.
Paul stared ahead as a new light in the distance appeared. Somehow seeing it eased the tightness building inside his chest. He cracked the window slightly and caught a whiff of car exhaust mixed with concrete. It almost felt like they had entered the underground parking for some shopping mall, a perception that was only reinforced when they came to an open area.
On one side in neat rows were dozens, perhaps hundreds of vehicles of all kinds: cars, trucks, family vans and even a few motor homes. But it was what he spotted on the other side that brought all of that tension roaring back. Orange, black and yellow tents bearing biological, chemical and radiological symbols. People from the parking lot were being herded into long sorting lines.
Somehow, Paul had just assumed that their admittance was a foregone conclusion, as though the word of Autumn’s soldier friend Brett was more than enough. What would they do if they were turned away? Head back into the growing cloud of radiation that was surely not far behind them? No, the idea seemed unthinkable. He and Buck had braved countless dangers as well as a group of deranged ex-Army thugs in order to rescue Susan and Autumn. They’d come too far to find safety only to be turned away at the last minute.
After finding a spot for the Hummer, the three got out. An unconscious Buck would need to be carried by stretcher into the bunker’s medical facility. A mix of weary soldiers and civilians headed toward the tents. Everyone was clearly worn out from the long journey. Paul waved a hand at Brett, beckoning him over.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Autumn scolded him. “I can’t let him see my hair like this.”
“You want your grandfather to die from his wounds?” Paul shot back.
Brett arrived and Paul asked him about finding some medical personnel to help. He nodded and jogged off.
A few moments later, as people continued to stream past them in the parking area, two men in hazmat suits arrived pushing a stretcher.
“You folks are gonna need to line up for processing,” one of them said, pointing to the tents Paul had watched with a hint of dread on the way in.
“Where are we?” Susan asked, looking around at the high-vaulted ceilings and the throngs of people. “What is this place?”
“This is the Ark.”
They helped to load Buck on the stretcher before he was carted away.
“Thanks for the info,” Paul replied under his breath. “The Ark. That explains a lot.”
They followed the crowd and settled into a place in line. At last they came to a table where a black officer in a hazmat suit was seated.
“Can I see your ID, please?” he asked in a muffled, hollow voice.
Paul stuck a hand in his back pocket and his heart iced over with panic. His wallet was gone, stolen by Finch’s men during the ambush at the gas station.
The officer looked annoyed. “No ID?”
“My wallet was stolen.”
Autumn and Susan laid their driver’s licenses on the table.
“This is my husband,” Susan told him as he studied each card. “We’re trying to get home to Nebraska.”
“You’re the last group to arrive,” he told them. “If you’re admitted, you won’t be heading home until the radiation clears.”
“And if we’re not admitted?” Paul asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“Then you’ll be escorted out by one of the MPs.”
The man passed a scanner over each of the two IDs.
“Looking for fakes?” Autumn inquired politely.
He handed them back. “Taking a picture for our database.” He motioned to Paul. “You, sir, are gonna need to fill out a series of forms. But first we need to check you for contaminants.” Pushing up out of his seat, the officer spread the newcomers a few feet apart from one another and produced a dosimeter which he waved back and forth in front of Autumn and Susan. He then did the same to Paul. The machine let out a loud squeal, indicating radiation exposure.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in,” he told them.
Paul’s chest seized painfully. Beside him, another man was being told the same thing. The man began to argue and two MPs appeared and took him by the arm, leading him back to the parking area.
Paul swung back to the officer before him.
“Sir… Did you hear what I said?”
“That can’t be,” Paul stammered. “I tested each of us on the road and we were all fine. I mean, we’ve been exposed a little bit, but surely no more than anyone else who’s just arrived.”
Two more MPs emerged from one of the tents and headed his way.
Paul swallowed hard. “Maybe your machine’s not working properly.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Just try it again, would you?”
Another officer with deep-set eyes wearing a hazmat suit showed up.
“What’s the problem here?”
The first officer showed him the dosimeter. “His reading’s way off the chart.”
“There must be a mistake,” Paul told them. The concern was starting to show on Susan and Autumn’s faces.
“I’m sorry, but the dosimeter doesn’t make mistakes,” the second man said.
“Maybe we should leave,” Susan cut in.
“What about Grandpa Buck?” Autumn asked.
Paul had contemplated what might happen if all of them had been denied entry to the bunker, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that only one of them might not make it.
“You two stay with Buck,” he told them. “I’ll go out on my own and make my way to Nebraska.”
The mere suggestion seemed to mortify his wife and daughter. Susan turned to the officer holding the dosimeter, fighting back t
he tears. “For heaven’s sake, will you just try it one more time?” She wasn’t getting anything. “Please.”
The officer’s resolve began to waver. Resetting the handheld machine, he waved it in front of Paul’s body and held the view screen up to his colleague.
“My apologies, ma’am, looks like your husband is clean.” He waved his hand. “Please proceed to the orange tent for decontamination.”
Paul nearly collapsed with relief.
They did as they were told, Paul feeling as though his heart was about to explode in his chest. Autumn clutched his arm.
“I can’t believe they nearly kicked you out,” his daughter said.
Susan nodded. “Makes you wonder about the poor guy at the table next to ours.” She turned to Paul, who was still upset.
“Not only was I nearly expelled to my death,” he said, “he had the nerve to apologise to you.”
Susan smiled. “It’s over, honey. Stop fretting or you’re gonna give yourself a coronary.”
The humiliation, however, was only just beginning. From here they were forced to undress, their clothes placed into plastic bags and tossed into a cart marked Incineration. Cold and with nothing to shield themselves, they were sent one by one into decontamination showers and sprayed with an awful-smelling liquid before being rinsed with freezing water. Emerging on the other side, they were handed a towel and escorted into one of several improvised medical booths. There they were instructed to bend over while they received a shot in their rear end.
Paul squinted with the pain. “What was that for?” he howled.
“An inoculation,” an overweight and bored-looking nurse replied before shooing him away and waving over the next in line.
Finally they came to a final tent where each of them was handed a bundle of clothing and given a small dressing room to change in. Paul did as he was told and emerged at the same time as Susan and Autumn. The look on his daughter’s face was priceless. Despite having suffered the humiliation of being stripped, showered and inoculated in the behind, the thought of wearing a beige tunic and trousers was somehow too much.
“I look like something out of a Kanye West fashion show,” Autumn cried in despair.
“We all do, honey,” Susan said, curling an arm around her daughter. “But our stuff’s being burned.”
“I kinda like it.” Paul smiled, looking down at himself. “Reminds me of my hippy days.”
Susan threw him a funny look. “You were never a hippy.”
“No, but I almost was. Right before I landed with The Wanderers.”
“Please, Dad. If I hear another story about how you used to be in a rock band I’m gonna run screaming into a radiation cloud. The Rolling Stones or the Beatles, that woulda been cool, but The Wanderers?”
Ahead of them lay a final set of impressive-looking doors. Gleaming steel, they stood open and welcoming. Standing next to them with warm smiles were a man and woman in military uniforms.
“Welcome to the Ark,” they said, almost in unison.
They reminded Paul of the way flight attendants addressed passengers as they entered a plane and for a moment it made him forget about the legions of citizens trapped outside of these impenetrable walls, many of them suffering and dying. Paul and his family were among the lucky ones. They’d lived through the worst of it. Made it to safety. The gravest dangers were now far behind them. From here on in, things could only get better.
Chapter 4
That growing sense of euphoria continued as they were led by a young man in plain clothes to the living quarters, which he referred to as Ark One. His name was Craig, he told them. Six months ago he’d been an intern for a large government contractor and today he was working as human resources officer in a bunker in Sugarloaf Mountain.
“Who woulda guessed?” he joked, his eyes twinkling.
They entered an enormous corrugated tunnel and Craig’s voice echoed as he explained they were about to take the bunker’s internal tram system. No fewer than twenty feet in diameter, the passage connected the three main branches of the complex, Arks One, Two and Three.
“The bunker gets its power from the Greers Ferry Dam,” Craig told them as they stood on the platform. “But every so often the power goes down and we’re forced to walk between sections or through the Park.”
“The Park?” Paul asked.
Craig grinned. “You’ll see.”
“How far is it?” Susan asked, glancing down with concern at the plastic Croc-like shoes they’d been given to wear.
“Oh, not too far. Maybe half a mile.”
Paul caught the sound of a subway train approaching just as a group of newcomers fell in line behind them fresh from the decontamination process.
“Welcome,” Craig greeted them.
They looked worn out, some even upset. The entire procedure was unpleasant and even embarrassing—the inoculation in his backside was still smarting—but it sure beat the alternative.
A three-car train glided into the station on rows of rubber wheels. The doors swooshed open and everyone on the platform entered. Others were onboard, many dressed just like them. Paul nodded and they returned the gesture. In many cases their clothes showed signs of wear, which told him they must have arrived sometime over the last few days.
A woman’s voice came over the intercom.
“Next station: Ark One. Living quarters. Mess hall. Rest and recreation.”
“How many people live here?” he asked Craig, looking around at the mostly filled subway cars.
“You folks are all curious,” Craig told the group of newcomers. “I get it, but you have no need to worry. In time, all of your questions will be answered.”
If Buck were here, Paul knew he’d be telling this kid that time was now. But unlike his impatient and cranky father-in-law, Paul figured the best thing right now was to go with the flow and trust in the process, no matter how strange or foreign it might seem.
“The truth is,” Craig whispered to him, “I’ve already overstepped my bounds.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my boss is the one who’ll be giving you your orientation. If she tells you anything I’ve already covered, just play dumb, will you?” He flashed that million-dollar smile.
“Sure thing, Craig.”
It appeared that even in heaven, bureaucracy was alive and well.
The living quarters were impressive, a veritable multi-story apartment complex rising up from inside the mountain. The room Paul’s family would share was little more than a glorified dormitory. Stacked along both walls were sets of bunk beds. To the left of the entrance was a quaint sitting area with a table and chairs along with a desk and desktop computer. The screen was black except for the words ‘ACCESS CODE:’ in bold print. Their policy of one family per room, as Craig explained, made all the difference.
“Well, it’s less Ritz Carlton and more Motel 8,” Paul said, trying out the mattress on the bottom bunk and finding it hard. “But it could be worse.”
“Hey, look at this,” Susan said, pointing. A digital screen made to look like a window showed a field of tall prairie grass, blowing in the wind.
“Cool,” Paul said, fluffing the freshly pressed pillow.
“You think we have access to the internet?” Autumn asked.
“I hope not,” Paul replied.
How funny the world was. The country had suffered an unspeakable tragedy. Millions of lives lost, the power grid down, in turn disconnecting the country from the gadgets and gizmos that formed the backbone of our technological addiction. And while the first part was enough to make a person shudder, the death—temporary or not—of cell phones and the internet had brought his family closer together.
The drive from Atlanta had been the first time in forever he and Autumn had had a real conversation. Not the distracted words between incoming texts that had replaced actual human interaction. There was more than enough to be sad about, no doubt about it. But as with any cataclysmic change, glimmers of light c
ould always be found.
Chapter 5
The next morning, they boarded the tram bound for Ark Two, the structure which housed the science and engineering departments as well as the infirmary. When they arrived, they found an area that was bright and modern with pristine white walls. A handful of medical staff criss-crossed from one patient to another. Most were other civilians in beige tunics suffering from a range of minor ailments. Judging from the saline IV drips plugged into people’s arms, the majority were battling dehydration. A handful were members of the military and even fewer were men in dark suits.
A booming voice drew everyone’s attention.
“Get that dang thing away from me.”
“Sir, would you please cooperate,” a male nurse could be heard saying. “You’ve just had an operation.”
“Come one step closer and you’ll be the one needing a doctor.”
Paul caught the knowing expression on Susan’s face. “Sounds like Dad’s awake.”
A blue light blinked above the doorway to one of the rooms and the three of them rushed in that direction. Two nurses pushed past them.
They entered to find Buck backed into a corner, dressed in little more than a blue patient gown. The nurses must have been in the middle of giving him his inoculation when he began fighting them off.
“What’d you animals do with my clothes?” he bellowed.
“The same thing we had to do with everyone else’s clothes, sir,” a female nurse shouted. “We burned them.”
“Buck,” Paul yelled, hoping the forcefulness in his voice might help get through to his father-in-law. “These people are here to help you. Take the shot like the rest of us.”
Buck’s eyes darted around the room. “Where the heck are we?”
“Dad, we’re at a government bunker called the Ark,” Susan said, trying to soothe him. “Paul’s right. These people aren’t going to hurt you.”