by Isaiah Lee
Karen took in the sheer number of red specks. “If we’re green, do the red ones mean bunkers that aren’t in use?”
Jason nodded. “That’s my guess. Green must mean secure, red unsecure.” His eyes darted back and forth across the screen. “My God… There aren’t many bunkers that have been locked down, are there?”
“No. Maybe that means the attack hasn’t affected the entire country.”
Jason pointed out bunker locations scattered across the country. “I don’t think so. There are safe locations scattered around. I think there were just that many bunkers that were either destroyed or unused.” He wanted to stay optimistic, but with the splattering of dots, it seemed unlikely that the entire country was not already under attack.
The world map on the bottom half of the screen mirrored the top. The state of the entire world had gone to hell in only a short time.
“INY1 status update required,” Karen read. “Wonder what that’s about?”
“INY1… Ithaca, New York, maybe. The one must be a numerical identifier based on if there are multiple bunkers in one city. Or maybe their location in a city? Different numbers meaning either underground, above ground. You know, stuff like that.” Of course, these were speculations. Truthfully, he hadn’t the foggiest clue what any of it mean. Jason pulled a drawer out from under the trio of monitors. He began typing a message back.
INY1: Status update. Two adults, both healthy with only minor injuries.
Jason was shocked when a beep indicated that someone, somewhere, had already answered them back.
WDC2: WHAT IS THE STATUS OF ITHACA
INY1: It seemed alright when we came down here. There have been explosions since.
WDC2: PREPARE FOR EXTRACTION AT 020800Z FEB 19
INY1: we don’t know what that means…
WDC2: TWO REMAINING SUBJECTS: CIVILIAN OR MILITARY
INY1: civilian
WDC2: EXTRACTION WILL BE 0800 ON FEB 2. ALLOW ONLY A 15 MINUTE WINDOW
INY1: 8:00am? Should be bring anything like food or water
INY1: hello?
Jason stared at the computer for another five minutes before pushing the keyboard drawer back into its slot. There should be an audible ping if there are any more updates from WDC2. “0800 means 8:00 in the morning. I’m sure of that.”
Karen jumped up and down with joy. “They’re going to save us?”
Jason smiled. “I think so. It’s January 31st right now. We only have a couple of days before they should arrive.”
“What do you think they mean by ‘allow only a fifteen minute window’?”
“I’m assuming if we don’t see anyone within fifteen minutes that we should come back down here.”
Karen couldn’t hide her excitement. She had nearly worried herself silly wondering what the next step would be since they were locked underground. Now, she could almost see a ray of hope at the end of the figurative tunnel.
There had been enough food stored in the bunker to last a while, along with what little they brought from her house, but she knew there wasn’t enough to last indefinitely. Anyway, she could not stand the thoughts of spending the rest of her days locked underground in this… place.
There was nothing for entertainment, save for a small assortment of used board games which, undoubtedly, were missing just enough pieces to make them obsolete. She knew Jason’s company would provide entertainment for a while, but eventually she knew she would yearn for more.
The next nearly forty-eight hours were going to move slowly, but at least they had something to look forward to now.
◆◆◆
Jason and Karen spent the rest of that day talking – what time they didn’t spend wrapped up in the sheets together – and playing gin rummy. There was a stack of five decks of playing cards in the pile of games; surprisingly, they all appeared to be new in the box.
Jason had never heard of gin rummy until Karen mentioned it to him. She dealt the first hand and talked him through the steps. He lost miserably. Jason then got on a winning streak with four victories in a row.
Jason’s next suggestion was strip poker, which he easily dominated. Might as well make the game interesting. This was by far his favorite game. Obviously. He kind of couldn’t believe she’d actually gone for it.
Eventually, they moved on to building massive card houses. Jason joined all five decks together into one pile before he and Karen took turns building a foundation. The concrete floor offered a fantastic slip-free hold for the foundation.
Jason’s chateau was six stories high and counting. Karen admired his work. “How did you get so good at building card houses?”
“A lot of free time when I was little. I was an only child and my parents were always busy working. They didn’t want to pay for a babysitter after I was about six, so I spent a lot of days home by myself on summer vacation.”
Karen nodded. “I know the feeling.” She averted Jason’s gaze as she added cards to her own, smaller two-story humble abode. “My mother left for weeks at a time when I was young. It was normal for me; I really didn’t think much of it until a police officer showed up at the door one day and I opened it. He asked for my mother, who he knew hadn’t been home, and I lied about how she was in the shower.
“Eventually, I went to live with the cousins I was telling you about. When my mother finally showed back up, she had no qualms with relinquishing her rights to her cousin. I’ve not heard from her since.”
Jason shook his head as he leaned over and embraced Karen. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand how some people can be that way.”
“No worries,” Karen answered. “I was much happier living with my cousins than I ever was living with my mother. I was taken care of finally and I got to eat every single day for the first time in my life. It was like dying and going to Heaven.”
An explosion rocked the bunker. The fighting must have started back.
Jason cursed as most of his monstrosity crumpled to the floor. “Damn it!”
Karen laughed. Her two-story shook with the blast but offered little movement. She had doubly-reinforced each joint and wall, along with adding a slip-joint between the first and second floors to compensate for lateral movement. “Try again, babe.” She flashed Jason an ear-to-ear smile. She was becoming acclimated to the war above as it started to bother her less.
Jason swung an arm through what remained of the wreckage. “Guess I’ll restart. Not like we’re short on time.”
They continued talking about their pasts and families. Jason talked more about Hank, telling all the funniest and best stories he could remember.
Karen offered little more about her mother; rather, she spent her time focusing on her cousins instead of the lack of her mother’s presence. How Timmy, the oldest, taught her how to fish at eight. The first time she cast a line, she swung back and to the right. When she released, the hook managed to catch Timmy’s left ear. She nearly ripped clean through the lobe as she jerked the rod down toward the water.
It was that same fishing expedition that Karen herself ended up face-first in the lake. Her last cast of the day wound up being one of the most vivid memories from her childhood. She cast – the line actually went right where she had intended – and slowly reeled back in. She felt a tug and jerked the pole.
In her attempt to snag the unlucky fish, Karen’s foot slipped from under her on the muddy bank. She didn’t simply slide down the bank; she tumbled head over heels, landing face-first with a sickening splash.
Timmy ran from his position thirty feet away – he had finally wised up to standing anywhere near Karen – and slid down the bank to save his cousin. By the time he got to Karen, she had pushed herself out of the water, only to slide back down on the muddy bank. Timmy managed to drag Karen back up the bank behind him, saving her from few of the briars that she had tumbled over the first time.
Back on dry land, Karen laughed until she couldn’t contain the tears any longer. She tried with everything in her to appear tough, but
the dam had finally been broken as tears came in waves. Her skin had been torn by the relentless briars and sticks that covered the eight-foot bank. Her left eye had been blackened by God-knew-what, and she was pretty sure she had sprained an ankle.
Still, Karen loved that fishing trip and begged every weekend following to go back. Needless to say, she found a better spot to stand for each subsequent trip.
Chapter 25
February 2nd, 2019. 0700.
Karen woke up to a Hawaiian tune on her phone. She set an alarm so she and Jason would wake up with plenty of time for extraction in an hour. Jason was sound asleep beside her in the makeshift bed. She nudged him awake. “Time to get up.”
Thankfully, the bunker had power outlets. Even though there was no cellular signal, Karen and Jason had both still used their phones to play mindless apps over the past couple of days. There was little worry about running out of power since the generator appeared to keep everything running smoothly.
Unlike the other mornings in the bunker, Jason did not allow himself to procrastinate. He stood, letting the covers fall to the floor. No sense in making the bed now.
Karen was excited for the opportunity to get the hell out of this bunker, but at the same time she was anxious. She didn’t know what type of extraction to expect, but she assumed helicopter due to the convenience factor. Being able to drop in nearly anywhere would surely come in handy if the world had gone to complete shit as the repeated explosions suggested.
Jason checked the computer screens in the server room one last time to make sure there weren’t any new notifications. The last message on the screen was the last one he had sent back to WDC2. He wouldn’t swear to it, but it seemed like there were even fewer green indicators on the screen now than there had been the other day. He prayed he was wrong.
They spent the previous day getting supplies together for their trek out of the bunker. There was a supply of gas masks and cartridges in the storage room, along with a small supply of hunting knives and utility tools. Jason took a total of four masks and all the extra cartridges he could stuff into his bag.
Before locking the elevator, Jason and Karen raided the gun department of Young & Buck’s. They found a backpack and duffle bag each and loaded them full of anything that looked useful. Jason loaded both duffle bags full of handguns, extra magazines, and boxes of ammunition that corresponded to the selection of guns.
Karen took two rifles off the display, both matching .300 Ruger bolt-action rifles, and fitted them with shoulder straps. She then pulled two shotguns, 12 gauge pump-action Winchester Defenders, from the shelf and found corresponding straps.
The camouflage duffle bags sat on the floor next to the elevator door. One backpack, which was full of the gas masks and cartridges, sat erect next to the other bags.
Karen worked on stuffing phone chargers, her backup flash drive, and other electronics into the backpack she would be carrying. These devices would probably prove obsolete and unnecessary very soon, but she couldn’t quite stand the thoughts of parting with them yet.
She packed the rest of the bag with toilet paper, bottled water, and the snacks she brought from her house. It may be a long trip to where ever they were going. Might as well be prepared.
At 7:45, Jason sighed. “I guess it’s about that time, huh? We’d better restart the elevator and get up top. There is no telling what we are going to see.”
He and Karen gathered their belongings, strapped the guns across their backs in an X, and stepped inside the elevator. Jason unlocked the keypad and pressed the 1st floor button. Nothing happened.
“What the…” Karen began.
The elevator jerked to life as the lift motor began pulling. The ride up seemed much slower than the first trip down the shaft. Maybe it was the anticipation of the world they were about to step out into.
Finally, the door chime sounded and the doors cracked slightly. White fog seeped through the opening.
“Shit!” Jason cursed. He pulled the pack from his back and handed Karen a gas mask. He helped position her mask on her head before slipping one onto his own face. He shouldered the pack overtop the rifle and shotgun – not the most comfortable arrangement, but tolerable – and led the way from the elevator.
The fog wasn’t so dense that all sight was lost; it was just enough to make things difficult. They stepped out of the elevator, into the fog, and took in their surroundings.
The elevator and surrounding structure had been enclosed in a concrete tomb of sorts during construction. This reinforced concrete was nearly all that stood intact. Jason saw what remained around the elevator and understood why the bunker remained untouched by the carnage.
Young & Buck’s was no more. There was no building; not even a shell. A small section of the east wall stood, metal beams bent and twisted unnaturally.
The west side of the business must have taken the brunt of whatever had attacked. There was nothing left save smoldering remains and skeletons of the charred vehicles from the parking lot. Karen’s Mercedes was not spared; the two halves were nearly twenty feet apart and still smoking slightly. It was impossible to tell from the wreckage whether it was blown apart or shredded apart.
A rescue helicopter was nowhere to be seen. It was nearly 8:00. It was so quiet, too quiet. There was no traffic speeding past. There were hardly any cars anywhere to be seen. There wasn’t even melodic chirping of birds. At least there weren’t any explosions or people screaming.
Jason and Karen walked around the wreckage until 8:15. They searched for anything useful or salvageable, thankful for the decision to stock up when they had the chance.
Jason checked his phone. 8:16. “We’d better get back down there.” His voice dripped with disappointment.
Karen’s posture slouched and she dropped her head. “Damn… I thought they would be here. You don’t think we’re in the wrong place, do you?”
“Surely not. They have the bunker’s location. Even with Young & Buck’s gone, they should still come to this location.”
He started walking back toward the elevator when they heard a faint noise in the background. The pulsing beats of helicopter blades cutting through the air. It grew louder. It was coming right toward them!
“There it is!” Karen nearly screamed.
Sure enough, within minutes the helicopter was in view high above. It dropped altitude much quicker than expected. Jason pulled Karen back a few steps, just in case. The chopper touched down about a hundred feet outside of where Karen’s Mercedes had been parked.
The military chopper’s side door slid open and a man leaned out. He waved his hand for Jason and Karen to come to him. They ran as fast as they could through the rubble. Karen arrived first and was hoisted up by the man, followed by Jason. The man slammed the door shut and the helicopter began to lift off.
“Thank you!” Karen nearly screamed over the din of the engine. “Where are we going?” She looked around the space and noticed that there was nobody else who could pass as a civilian on the helicopter. They were the only survivors onboard.
Somehow the man had understood what Karen was saying through the gas mask over her face. “Washington DC,” he answered.
Chapter 26
The flight to Washington DC was relatively event free, save for a little turbulence somewhere over Pennsylvania. Karen and Jason both watched out the windows as they flew.
Buildings everywhere had been leveled. Homes destroyed. Infrastructure demolished. It was truly a warzone. Bodies lay strewn this way and that. Limbs blown off. Military and civilian alike, armed and unarmed. Everybody had fallen prey to the invading forces. There were a few of the pinkish-grey Qspolians here and there, but mostly just human casualties. Occasionally, there was an alien craft that had been downed.
Jason was ecstatic to see that they could be killed. Their ships could be destroyed. He wondered aloud if there had really been three thousand of the space crafts.
The man, whose nametag read BAKER, shook his head. “I’m sorry
, sir. We are still assessing damage. As far as I have heard, there is not an official estimate on the number of enemy foot troops or space crafts.”
That’s when Jason saw it. Out his window, far in the distance, was a ship. Not one of the small, agile ships like he had seen in person, like he saw while traveling on the interstate. The ship in the distance was gargantuan. The size of a cruise ship in diameter. It wasn’t round like the others; it was a long, grey structure. It was difficult to see at this distance, but its hull was rounded and came more to a point. Similar to an airplane without wings. “Is that a troop transport ship?”
The man nodded. “Yes, sir. That is one of many. We estimate that each of those ships can hold over a thousand of the enemy troops.”
Jason’s heart sank. It wasn’t just a fleet of interplanetary fighters. It was a full-fledged invasion. At least that particular transport ship had been blown out of the sky. Smoke filled the horizon around the burning ship.
To make it worse, there were very few places that seemed to have been spared from the chaos. A clump of houses here, a small town tucked back there. There was one thing that seemed to be a common denominator: the fog. Anywhere that had been annihilated seemed to be covered in the fog. It didn’t seem to be as thick here as it had been in Ithaca.
Karen pointed at it. “Sir, does the military know why they use the fog?”
“I don’t know the specifics, but the ‘fog’ as you put it is some sort of gas that is emitted from the invading ships. It affects the nervous system and brain of anyone who breaths it. There are cases of suicide…” Jason thought back to Johnny and Stacy. “Mania, psychosis. It can cause bleeding from the eyes and nose. It is meant to be paralyzing, definitely. In cases of prolonged exposure, cardiac arrest, suffocation, and organ failure have already been documented. You two are lucky to have found gas masks.”