Shelter

by C A Bird

  An overhead light fixture and a small reading light over the bed completed the furnishings. The bathroom had a toilet - fortunately someone had stocked toilet paper, and a shower opposite it. There was a small central sink with barely enough room to get around it. A recessed shelf unit, where he’d placed his razor and toiletries was above the sink. A full soap dispenser attached to the wall between the shower and the sink, was labeled soap/shampoo. It didn’t appear there would be any fancy hair shampoos and conditioners.

  Mark flopped down on the sofa using the remote control to snap on the television. It was menu-driven for selecting the program and he discovered there were only four channels. Channel one was labeled “movies” and when Mark used the remote to select the icon he saw there was an extensive listing of late run motion pictures. He sadly remembered there would be no new additions.

  Channel two was an educational channel, a cursory examination revealing most of the selections were how-to programs, ranging from carpentry to farming to electronics. He marveled at the choices, hundreds of subjects, and from the first one or two he examined they were very detailed.

  Operator’s manuals for the shelter occupied channel three. The first screen brought up a map and when Mark clicked on any particular area it brought up a detailed description. Maps were included for the three main floors, the control tower, and several caves. The latter all opened off the third or bottom floor and contained the power plant, a reservoir, farm caves and one that was marked “sanitation.”

  The top floor had the infirmary, a small library, the auditorium, a music room, classrooms and daycare, some empty rooms, a multi-purpose room and a cafeteria. Level two was the location for the private quarters and a second dining area, and was at least twice the area of the top floor, and extended much farther back into the mountain. There were both individual and family apartments.

  A larger library, the main kitchen, still another dining room, work areas such as wood and metal shops, the back-up generator room and computer room, a very large warehouse and a gymnasium were on the bottom floor. The levels were in the shape of a digital “eight” with hallways running around the outside and a central corridor down the middle. The bottom level had a second cross-corridor running perpendicular to the first. There were several dead-end corridors with doors labeled, “Beyond these doors there be dragons.” He had examined many of these locations when he and Lori ran through the shelter earlier in the afternoon. They had jogged for over two hours; actually, they explored more and ran less. He was mildly concerned when they found that all the dragon doors led to unimproved caverns of varying sizes that were used for storage. Will assured him when he questioned him about it later that the caverns were all closed to the outside and the air would not be contaminated. Just in case, however, the doors were all monitored to ensure they didn’t stay open long.

  Having been to almost every part of the shelter including the power plant, the farm areas and every residential area, he figured he and Lori were probably more familiar with the facility than any but the permanent staff members. He had enjoyed Lori’s company and wanted to spend more time with her but she was feeling guilty about leaving her children for too long, considering the trauma of the last two days, and left for her apartment right after the run.

  The fourth channel was a tape of Will Hargraves welcoming the survivors to the shelter and explaining that although the apartments were empty, the residents could obtain supplies, additional linens, and clothing and furnishings from the warehouse. The message had to have been taped recently, obviously since they’d arrived, because he mentioned the events of yesterday and made reference to this morning’s meeting. As Mark listened to the message the intercom came to life.

  “Mark? Where are you? It’s Chris. Come on over to Dad’s place, we’re having a get-together.” He jumped up, looking frantically for a button to push. “Mark, if you’re there, just talk, dummy.”

  Feeling foolish he replied, “Be right over. How do I find it?”

  He heard Will’s voice. “Bring up the map on your monitor. Down at the bottom are menu choices, one says ‘directory’. It’s not totally up to date yet; the data is still being entered in the computer because everyone is changing apartments. Click on it, choose my name from the directory and it will highlight my room. Your remote has buttons that allow you to navigate the menus and select icons.”

  “O.K., I’ll be right there.” As he exited and closed the door he remembered there was no way to lock it from the outside.

  Mark was surprised to see how large Will’s room was compared to his own. The main difference was a large living area with two sofas and two overstuffed chairs. He realized Will needed to have larger quarters for meetings or informal get-togethers.

  Chris, Dr. Jim, another man, and two women Mark didn’t know were spread out on the sofas. Will sat in one chair and offered the other to Mark.

  “Mark, this is Kate Barkley, Marilyn Simmons, Walter Thompson, and you know Jim Wiggins. Kate and Marilyn are permanent staff and Walter came with the refugees.”

  They shook hands all around and Will handed Mark a glass of wine.

  “Mark Teller is a friend and essentially the second in command of this facility, authorized to make any decision regarding the running of the shelter. He’s worked for me forever and he’s like a family member.”

  Mark was surprised to hear he was in a position of authority. The relationships and careers on the outside were going to be different from those on the inside and he felt ambivalent about the situation. As a natural leader he probably would have assumed some responsibility in time, but on the other hand, he had been in positions of responsibility all his life and would have liked to just worry about Mark Teller for a change.

  Will continued, “Walter will assume responsibility for the environmental systems including the air filtering system, plumbing and waste management. Jake Cummings, the man in charge, was unfortunately on vacation when the attack came and didn’t make it back to the shelter. This has been a blow for us but Walter should get up to speed fairly quickly.”

  “You said last night there were seven permanent staff members. What are their functions?” Mark asked.

  “Glen is the manager, Kate’s in charge of dietary and custodial, and Bud Nagle is our electrician and power man,” He ticked them off on his fingers as he recalled the names, ”Marilyn Simmons is logistics. She takes care of supplies, the warehouse and linen. Karl Dohner was in charge of maintaining our database of residents and delivering the signaling devices so he’ll take on other duties since his job is over. Darryl Washington, who made it back last night much to my relief, is our computer expert and electronics wizard. Jake was the environmental expert. Chris is going to be in charge of food production although she’s protesting.”

  Chris shrugged. “I’m sure there are others here more qualified than I to be in charge. I’ve always been a student following a professor’s orders.”

  Mark had every confidence that Chris could do the job. He thought she could do anything.

  Directing his question at Marilyn, a thin, no-nonsense woman in her forties, he asked, “How did you know when to bring in all the supplies? You must have cut it close.”

  “No, actually, it wasn’t that much of a problem. Kate and I have a complete program for rotating stock and keeping everything in date. When Will first built the shelter, before my time, he hired a gentleman named Ralph Pierson to stock the warehouse and the storage caverns. Old Pierson, they called him, lived in Eagle Nest and he was something of an eccentric. He didn’t keep very good records and God only knows where he put some of the stuff. This mountain has caves and tunnels all through it where we’ve discovered caches of supplies we don’t have any record of.” She shook her head, “I’m sure there are more that we’ll never discover. Old Pierson apparently went into town one day and just disappeared, never coming back to work. Will hired me to replace him.”

  Kate Barkley giggled, “I came on board about the same time as Mari
lyn. It was a mess but we inventoried everything we could locate and set up an inventory system in the computer, which had just come on line.”

  Will said, “These ladies did a marvelous job.”

  Marilyn beamed at the compliment. “We have long-term food storage in the form of buckets that are packed in nitrogen, with a shelf life of over twenty years. There are years left before they expire. For the shorter term we have canned goods, frozen and freeze-dried food, dried fruits and smoked meats. We even have fresh produce to last for a couple of weeks. All this food was rotated on a regular basis and donated to the rescue missions around the state. There’s a huge walk in freezer in the rear of the main kitchen.”

  During all those years he’d kept Will’s business going Mark wasn’t interested in the shelter, considering it a colossal waste of time. Now he was curious about everything. “How did you choose this site? It seems awfully close to places that would be primary targets for missiles, like Albuquerque and Los Alamos. Wouldn’t the mountains in Colorado or Idaho have been safer?”

  “This mountain range is in a national forest area that the government was willing to let me build in. Also, it’s within a reasonable distance from major metropolitan areas like Albuquerque and Denver, which was necessary for access by the refugees. The range has some geological characteristics that made the construction easier as well, such as an extensive network of caverns, similar to Carlsbad, which made it easier to excavate and enabled us to enlarge it without too much damage to the exterior. Only the government knew of the caverns since there was only one small cave that gave access to the outside. I’m sure if others had known of the caverns there would have been considerable resistance to our project. Then there’s the river in the forest above us that could be diverted for power and to fill the reservoir.”

  He hesitated in thought for a minute. “I don’t want what I am about to tell you to go beyond this room.”

  He looked at each of them and they nodded. “There was another consideration. To the west of us is a valley with some unique qualities. The shelter has a back door, so to speak, an escape hatch that isn’t shown on the maps. I don’t want to inform the others of it until later, as they may pressure us to leave prematurely. A tunnel leads to this back door, which in turn opens on this special valley. Due to some freak meteorological quirks the valley is protected from prevailing winds and other weather phenomena, receiving much less snow in the winter than the surrounding mountains, and it’s warmer overall. A river runs through it and it’s surrounded on three sides by mountains with an opening to the southwest. My engineers were convinced this valley would receive far less radiation and fallout than other locations in the United States. From what I’ve seen on the sensors this may indeed, be true. We’ll know for sure later but so far this location in The Sangre de Cristo Mountains has proved to be an excellent choice.

  Innocently Mark asked, “What does Sangre de Cristo mean exactly?”

  “It means, ‘The Blood of Christ’.”

  August 23, 8:15 a.m.

  Early the following morning, six men and women stood in the subdued lighting that illuminated a portion of a vast cave. The space, a combination of natural caverns and manmade excavations, extended beyond the feeble lighting as though there were no boundaries and they stared in awe at the unbelievable underground power plant that provided electricity to their new home. Some of those present would be working here and Bud Nagle conducted the tour to familiarize them with its features.

  Mark had been through here yesterday but hadn’t taken time to explore it thoroughly. He and Lori ran through the door from the lower level of the shelter, down a few stone steps to the rock floor of the cave, across to a larger, wider set of steps that ascended to the second level, turned and ran left on a ledge bordered by a railing, through another set of doors into downward slanting tunnels that led back to the farm cave.

  The group stood on the recessed floor of the cave, Nagle speaking loudly to make himself heard above the sound of rushing water. “The penstocks bring in water from the storage lake we built outside and above this location. It’s high enough above us to create sufficient head pressure to generate power for our entire shelter and then some.” Bud explained. “The water’s in a closed system and although it’s undoubtedly contaminated it isn’t exposed to our atmosphere. It enters the penstocks through the trashrack, which traps the debris, and then through wicket gates. After the water passes through the turbine the draft tube returns it to that enclosed underground river flowing away from the shelter beyond that wall to the west. The penstocks and as much of the other equipment as practical are lead lined.”

  Mark looked around at the cave, noting evidence that indicated this had been a natural cavern prior to the manmade excavation. To the right of the huge concrete covered aqueduct an asphalt path led into the darkness and he could see broken off stalagmites and jagged, pastel colored, limestone walls. The ceiling, almost lost in the darkness was tremendously uneven, long stalactites and grape-like clusters of smooth nodules barely visible in the dimness.

  They walked up the staircase to the main, or middle floor and entered the plant through a large opening with no door. The space was large enough to drive a large truck into. Inside the plant, to the left, was an office filled with computers. “We control the level of the reservoir above by controlling the outlet of the retention dam. There are two more reservoirs in the higher mountains to the west, fed by glacial lakes, also controlled by these computers. The computers control the governor that regulates the amount of water entering the penstocks.”

  As they walked further into the plant the roar of the water and the whine of the turbine became louder. On this level they could see the generators at the top of the two story turbines. Cranes were suspended from the roof of the room for servicing the generators. The penstocks, six-foot diameter pipes, descended through the room carrying rushing water to the turbines below.

  Mark reached up and touched the pipes. He could feel the vibration from the water, in fact, could feel the entire building vibrating.

  They came to a staircase, a sign beside it reading, “Ear protection required past this point.” Putting on earmuffs they descended the staircase to the lower level where they had an excellent view of the turbine, currently spinning at 240 revolutions per minute, although, as Nagle explained, the speed could be varied to regulate the amount of electricity generated. Only one turbine was spinning. Either turbine, Nagle explained, could power the entire shelter. They would be alternated by the month to allow for maintenance and repair. The wastewater cascaded into a covered ravine beyond the turbines.

  “Mr. Nagle, what would happen if both turbines went down? With no power how would they be restarted?” The question came from a teenage boy, Tucker Smith, who had begged to be allowed to work at the plant.

  “That’s a good question, son. We have two banks of industrial batteries that are charged by the turbines for emergency power. We also have “blackstart” capability which uses water power rather than electricity to get the turbine going.”

  After touring the lower level they re-climbed the stairs to the mid-level. Going through a large open door to the backside of the plant and onto another ledge they saw a huge storage tank and stacks of fifty-five gallon drums containing the industrial oil used by the system. “The thrust bearings glide on the oil,” he explained. “We use massive amounts of it. There are more barrels in storage tunnels beyond this ledge.” Mark walked to the railing and looked over the edge. The concrete covered ravine was below and to his right, extending away from the building forty feet, then turning in an arc ninety degrees to the left, where it continued to the far western wall of the cave, lost in the darkness. He could imagine the wastewater rushing through that protective culvert. There was a dark space between the lower side of the plant and the aqueduct.

  The top floor of the building contained the powerhouse and transmission lines disappearing through conduits into the complex. Each turbine was capable of generati
ng 6.8 Megawatts; a step- down transformer supplying voltages at 110, 220, and 440 volts.

  Mark and the others were thoroughly impressed with the power plant and the feat of engineering that allowed it to be built in this underground location. They finished the tour, with the others staying behind for more specific training.

  Mark walked out the front door of the plant onto the ledge protected by a metal railing. He descended the staircase to the rock floor, three feet lower than the door that opened into the shelter. He stood at the door looking back into the cavern and was haunted by a sense of unreality. This gigantic power plant in the underground cave reminded him of the first computer game he’d ever played. He’d spent many hours adventuring in the “Great Underground Empire” instead of doing his homework.

  He was haunted as well by the remembrance of a dream he’d had before he came to this place. A dream about “The blood of Christ”, before he’d ever heard of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains - as if the dream were a premonition. If that was true then what about the rest of the dream, the horror of something unspeakable chasing him through absolute darkness? He shuddered as he recalled his terror.

  August 23, 12:30 p.m.

  Micah rapped his knuckles on the red light and chuckled when it turned green, indicating the protective sensor cover was operating properly. Mark stood with the others, holding his breath and waiting in anticipation as the covers slid back and the sensor arrays were extended into the atmosphere. Will, Mark, and Chris had just arrived, after having lunch together. Micah, Bob Crowder, and James Bascomb were already there, making preparations, and Will had invited Dr. Jim and Clay to join them. Clay declined, saying he was meeting someone after lunch. Darryl was in his favorite spot at the computer console.