The Big One

by Louisa Bacio

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Big One

  Copyright © 2014 by Louisa Bacio

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-714-1

  Cover art by Tibbs Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Author’s Note

  This story was started on December 12, 2012 (yes, 12/12/12), and the college where I teach under “lockdown” with armed suspects somewhere on campus. Nine hours of being held in the library—the same library where a campus custodian killed seven people and injured two in 1976. While trying not to think of those elements too much, the experience of being “sheltered in place” inspired this tale.

  The Big One

  A Prepper Romance

  By

  Louisa Bacio

  ~DEDICATION~

  Thank you to Heather Bennett, who first turned me onto the Prepper Romance line, and my editor Cassandra Dean for your extra special insights! Also, thanks to first readers Tiffany and Jenn for your advice.

  Remember, be prepared!

  Chapter One

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  Kayla pulled the phone from her ear to glance at the screen. While caller ID indicated it was her workmate calling her early on a Friday morning, the voice coming over the phone clearly belonged to her boss, Josh.

  “Um, sure. What do you need?” She hadn’t left for the office yet, and she winced at his potential request. His “do me a favor” often meant stopping at the dry cleaner or dropping his dog, Cujo the Pomeranian, at the groomers. On Fridays, she liked to get into work early and back home for the weekend.

  “We’ve got this new client, the UK Underground, and they’re looking for a cool place to shoot their next video. Rumor has it you might have a bunker.”

  She flushed. Few people at work knew about the hideaway, which narrowed down the field of who could have blabbed.

  “It’s not much,” she backtracked. “Some supplies I’ve tucked away, just in case—r”

  “I don’t care why. Do you, or don’t you, have a basement hidey-hole?”

  “I do.”

  “Great. The lead singer, Sebastian, will be over at your place around noon, which gives you enough time to spruce it up a bit, you know, make it look saleable.”

  When Josh got excited about a project, he rambled. The last thing she wanted to do was entertain a rock star. She’d heard the excited grumblings about the new band, but didn’t follow popular music too much. She saw celebrities in an “other” category, not really part of her social circles. Could she get out of it?

  “Um, is it necessary?”

  The line grew quiet, and then, finally, Josh cleared his throat. “Is it necessary to keep one of our newest, biggest clients happy, especially in this down economy? Oh, yes it is. And if, for some reason, we lose this account, the company may just have to undergo layoffs. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Kayla resigned herself to doing whatever was best for the company, no matter how much she’d rather not.

  “So, yeah, go make yourself presentable.” She heard rustling in the background and someone’s muted voice.

  Jacqueline? She knew the call had come from her co-worker and best friend’s cell phone. So they were sleeping together? A little TMI this early in the morning.

  “And Jackie says to wear your yellow sundress. It looks good on you.”

  With that parting comment, he hung up.

  Kayla stared at the now-silent phone. What would it feel like to toss it against the wall? Resisting, she sighed and placed it on the counter. As an assistant creative director for a marketing firm, she rarely interacted with clients. Usually the message was passed down from the higher-ups. First thing she was going to do was turn on her curling iron and, while it was heating up, she was going to check out who this Sebastian from the UK Underground was anyway.

  ***

  About two-thirty, she saw from her kitchen window her noon “date” coming up the walkway, looking like he’d rolled out of bed and slung on last night’s clothes. How could jeans get so wrinkled? Then again, her dad, who was a retired Marine, used to press his Levi’s, so she wasn’t used to such sloppiness. His black leather jacket molded to his body, stretched across his shoulders, and tapered toward his waist without even being zipped.

  From what she’d read in the online gossip, Sebastian was known as a heavy partier who liked to frequent Hollywood clubs. In more recent months, though, there’d been fewer sightings. Some rumors even mentioned potential problems within the band, and “creative inspiration.”

  Kayla knew better than to believe everything she read on the Internet, but he still lived in a much different world than she did. Seeing him, though, made her immediately think “star.” Uneasiness fluttered in her stomach.

  He rang her doorbell, a long, squeaking push of the button droning on as she approached.

  “All right, already. I’m coming. I get it. You’re here.” For crying out loud, have a little bit of patience, especially for being several hours late.

  She opened the door and looked up into gray eyes. The right side of his mouth curled up, and her pulse did a corresponding jump. His magnetic star quality reached out and grabbed her by the libido. Her heart beat so fast, she felt like it was about to bust her chest. Looking at him reminded her of flipping through teen heartthrob mags—the bad-boy rocker from her teenage fantasies now stood in front of her.

  She shook off the daydream. She wasn’t a teen anymore, but a professional.

  “Bloody hell, I had to trek all the way out here, the least you could do is open the door for me.”

  He walked right by her, checking out her home. Kayla stepped back, a bit unsure at his greeting.

  “Umm, excuse me, and you are?” She knew damn well who he was, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “How many blokes you expecting this afternoon?” He turned, and she drew in her breath at the sight of him. The
pictures online didn’t do him justice. In the flesh…. She wanted to touch him. “I’m Sebastian Cox, but I figured you already knew that considering we had an appointment.”

  Anger and embarrassment replaced the instant attraction, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. He was the musician, the rock star, and she was the lowly advertising assistant. She gritted her teeth. Her company needed him, not the other way around. She had to be polite.

  “Well come on in, make yourself comfortable….”

  Thank God, he missed her sarcasm. She didn’t entertain clients, lacked the finesse, and preferred to hide behind flow charts and spreadsheets.

  He carried a red guitar case slung over the back of his shoulder. Not sure how she hadn’t noticed. Must have been his bubbly personality.

  “Well, where’s this bunker of yours?” he said. “Let’s go check out the acoustics of the bad boy.”

  If he wanted to be all business and get the hell out of there fast, it was fine by her. She led him through the house and out the side door. When she got to the bunker, she blocked his view of the fingerprint-and-combo lock on the outside with her body. No need for him to see the code.

  The door opened without a squeak. She made sure to keep it in good condition, which included plenty of lubrication and changing the batteries when daylight savings clicked over. No one would want rusty hinges or a dead cell impeding an escape route.

  She walked inside and flicked on the lights, which cast a muted glow as they charged up.

  “Bloody dark down here,” he commented to no one in particular as he followed her inside. “If we did the shoot here, we’d have to bring in a hell of a lot of lights.” He plopped down on one of the cots, and the open V-neck of his white button-up shirt gaped further, exposing a tanned chest with a sparse covering of hair.

  She looked away. He might be a smart ass, but he sure was pretty to look at. His short dark hair spiked every which way, but appeared soft to touch. She bet his stubble stayed the perfect length at all times. Maybe having him around for a few days wouldn’t be so bad after all. A little bit of eye candy wouldn’t do her any harm. Her friends kept telling her she needed to lighten up and stop worrying about all of the what-ifs. Well, maybe this would be her chance. Despite working in marketing, it wasn’t like she interacted with star clients—ever—and if the world wanted to shake things up by laying a male specimen like Sebastian literally on her doorstep, she shouldn’t waste the opportunity.

  The bird from the advertising firm was wound up tighter than a farmer facing a drought. Sebastian’d had no idea what to expect when the agent called and suggested he come look at this location. An advertising agency assistant with an emergency bunker? Sure, they had them back home, littered all over England as remnants from the Cold War, but he’d imagined some old biddy owning one, walking with a cane, and smelling of lavender.

  What had he ended up with? She reminded him of a sexy schoolteacher who acted like she had no idea of her own beauty. That alone could be quite appealing, if he didn’t keep thinking, “freak.” Despite the perfectness of this location, maybe he should consider changing the mock-up for the video. He’d been hoping for a change of pace to rock him out of his stalled writing. Trapped within his high-pressure world, nothing inspired him.

  Diving headfirst into his fears might not be the answer. Being underground was already giving him the creeps. He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. He didn’t consider his case of claustrophobia all that bad, but every now and then it hit hard. The unfriendly nature of the assistant—no need to learn her name as he wasn’t going to see her again—added to the discomfort.

  “Hey listen,” he said. “I don’t think—”

  A low grumble rose from the earth, one that seemed to come from all around. The ground lurched upward, throwing them to the side. Someone screamed. Oh God, it was him screaming, and he clutched at name-name-name?

  “Stay calm,” Kayla said. He grabbed onto her—tight—and she patted his hand while she attempted to stay upright. “Feels like a little earthquake. We’re safe; let’s just ride it out.”

  A gigantic moan emerged from the depths of the earth. All movement stopped for a beat, and then the ground surged, tossing them right and then left.

  He shut his eyes, nausea tumbling through his stomach.

  A beeping began. He reached out to grab hold of something to steady himself, but found nothing. His knees shook as much as the earth, and his stomach lurched up in his throat. He tasted his own fear. It couldn’t be happening again. No fucking way.

  The earth protested like it was going to open up and swallow him whole—swallow him alive—and then he’d suffocate, trapped under the weight of the world. He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell was going on, but before he could, she stumbled into him, hand clutched at the back of her head. A large can, which must had been on a shelf behind her, clattered to the ground. He watched her fall, but he couldn’t save her—or himself.

  He willed himself to move forward to check on her, and was almost convinced, when a second beeping sounded. The sick scrape of metal sliding into metal grated against his ears with a definitive locking noise.

  We’re fucked, he thought, and then the lights blinked off.

  Chapter Two

  Kayla woke in a haze, unsure of her surroundings. She could hear singing, a soft, sensual sound, and a cushion supported her head while a faint light illuminated the room. She attempted to sit up, and the bed spun. Holding onto her head, she fell backward with a moan.

  She started when a figured leaned forward from the shadows. “Take it slowly, there. We don’t want you to pass out again.” A man ran a cool cloth over her forehead, and the comfort of his touch made her sigh. “You got quite a knocking on that noggin of yours, and I’m afraid you’re going to have a lump, too.”

  She reached toward the back of her head, where the thumping originated, and winced as soon as her fingers brushed her scalp.

  “I told you,” he said. “No touching.”

  Sebastian. The rock star. The bunker. Earthquake!

  “Earthquake? We had an earthquake.” She didn’t quite remember what had happened, but waking up next to that sultry voice wasn’t a regular occurrence.

  “Seems like it, with the way the earth was rocking and rolling. I’ve never felt anything like it. While I’ve been waiting for you to come ’round, I’ve been thinking of some new lyrics.” Although his words were cheerful, his voice sounded a bit strained.

  Glad I could inspire a song.

  “What are we still doing down here?” The room sped around her, and her body swayed with it. Was it her, or was it really happening?

  “Well, I was hoping you could answer that question as soon as you woke up. You see, after you passed out, I heard all this commotion coming from the door, and I can’t seem to get it open.”

  She groaned. How could she have forgotten to secure everything? Besides which, she’d never imagined getting trapped down here with someone unwanted. “Safety feature.”

  “What did you say?”

  “It’s an aftermarket safety feature I’m working on. Automatic locks. If the bunker is inhabited when the lock’s engaged, it won’t open for a certain amount of time. It’s supposed to keep the looters out, you know? Once some type of natural disaster strikes and people figure out a person has supplies, they become a target. This way, they can’t get in.”

  Sebastian grew quiet, as if pondering the meaning behind what she said.

  “How long?” he finally asked.

  “What?”

  “How long before we’re allowed to get out of this blasted hole in the ground?” he snapped.

  She took a dry gulp. “Three days.”

  “No bloody way!”

  He sagged against her on the cot and covered his face with his palms. His body shook, as if he were shivering from cold.

  “Hey, are you all right?” She reached out to touch his arm.

  He drew away. “I’m no
t going to be able to make it three days. No way in hell. Buried alive.”

  In the dim light, Kayla noticed sweat pearled on his forehead. It wasn’t hot, so she knew it had to be something else. Nerves? Some people were deathly afraid of being trapped underground. Could he be one?

  He was inhaling in short bursts. When someone hyperventilated, you gave them a paper bag to breath into, right? Damn. She needed to prepare for first aid, too. She hadn’t imagined caring for someone else, especially a rock star with cracked armor.

  She stood, much more slowly this time. She needed to take inventory of their situation. She’d always stocked the bunker with food and water for more than one person. Often, she imagined being down here with a friend or family member, or, at a long shot, her sister. The first order of business, aside from tidying herself up, was to get the radio working and check on the situation outside. Then she could decide if she was going to try to crack the lock, or remain put for the time being. Either way, it could be a while.

  Sebastian moved toward the door, as if he was going to check it again, then stopped. Rocking back and forth, he mumbled, seeming to talk more to himself than to her. “I knew this was a bad idea. I never should have come. I need to follow my instincts if I’m to get out alive.” He turned in her direction. “Tell me there’s some special alarm, right? Someone will come looking for you?”

  She glanced downward and shrugged. “It’s not like a house alarm. I didn’t set a panic button. Plus, it’s Friday, and I didn’t have many plans for the weekend. Maybe if I don’t show up at work on Monday, someone will come. What about you?”

  “Not likely.” He waved his hand dismissively, but it shook. “My people are used to me disappearing for a few days. If I need something, I call. Otherwise, they leave me alone. Creative spirit and all.”