Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “I wonder how many were onboard?” the man asked. Then he let out a short chuckle and cocked his head. “Their attorneys are going to have a field day. I wish I had a piece of all those billable hours. I know my firm could use it.”

  Bunker ignored the lawyer and stepped around him. He took off for the locomotive with a quick, churning step as he worked his way along the procession of train cars. The tracks were elevated on a steep embankment, giving him a high angle view of the foliage below.

  When he arrived at the engine, he found two men standing on the tracks in front of the engine. They were close together and slightly turned, looking at an angle to the left.

  Both men wore similar business-style clothing, including black shoes and pants, colored dress shirts and ties, and black vests. Each man was clearly in his middle years, with wrinkles, trim waists, and broad shoulders.

  The man with a thick mustache had an iconic black hat in his hand, holding it over his heart as it flapped in the wind. Bunker could see the Amtrak logo printed on the front, just above the narrowing brim. The words above the logo said Amtrak Conductor. Jack assumed the other man was the engineer.

  When some loose rock crunched under Bunker’s feet, the two railroad employees spun their heads and looked at him.

  “What happened?” Bunker asked, hoping he didn’t startle the men.

  The engineer, who was still wearing his cap, pointed at the trees to the left and spoke next. The slope of his eyes and shape of his face signaled he was of Asian descent. “Just missed us. I don’t know how or why, but thank God it did.”

  Jack took a quick inspection of the scene, recording all the facts his eyes were reporting in mere seconds.

  The plane hit the tracks ahead first, taking out a long section of the iron rails and wooden railroad ties underneath. A huge section of the embankment was missing, too, leaving behind an open crater that wouldn’t be fixed anytime soon.

  To the left, a path of destruction had been cut through the forest, angling down and into a vast canyon below. Some of the trees looked charred, but they weren’t on fire. He didn’t understand how, but it didn’t change the facts.

  He walked ahead a few yards and followed the trail of smoke into the valley beyond. There was a river cutting through the center of the canyon. The whitecaps of its rapids were clearly evident, indicating it was a fast-moving current.

  Just on the other side of the water were chunks of the plane—at least fifteen—each of them burning. The jagged sections had been ripped apart and spread out in directions leading away from the river. Some of the trees around the mangled wreckage were on fire, too, sending intense columns of flames up from their trunks.

  The conductor showed up at his side. “Do you think anyone is still alive?”

  “I don’t see how,” Bunker said.

  “Someone should go down there and check.”

  Bunker shook his head. “Not without climbing gear and a full rescue team. That’s too steep a drop. Besides, I doubt anyone could’ve survived that crash. It was too violent. No, I’m afraid they’re all gone.”

  “That fire doesn’t look good, either,” the conductor said, sounding concerned.

  “It’ll head away from us.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  Bunker pointed at the raging water below. “I doubt it’s gonna cross that massive river, plus the wind is blowing away. I’m not sure, but I think that’s the Mighty Colorado.”

  “Actually, it’s the Arkansas River.”

  Bunker nodded, then turned and went back to where the engineer was still standing, his mouth agape. The conductor joined him.

  Bunker swung his arm, pointing at the airplane’s flight path. He decided to channel something Jeffrey said a few minutes earlier. “It looks like the pilot banked right at the last second when he saw our train sitting here, helpless.”

  The engineer shook his head, his eyes locking onto Bunker’s. “I don’t think that’s what happened. It looked like the pilot had a dead stick to me. I think it’s more likely that a gust of wind caught the wings and changed its trajectory. That’s why it missed us.”

  “All those poor people,” the conductor muttered.

  Bunker looked at the engineer. “I take it the train stopped because you lost power?”

  “Yeah. The engines quit when our systems suddenly failed across the board.”

  “They’re controlled by a computer system, right?” Bunker asked in a leading manner.

  The man nodded. “Corporate is going to be pissed. They just spent a bundle upgrading everything a few months ago. We finally had the latest and greatest, and now this. Shit, you know they’re gonna blame us. We’re responsible for everything that happens to this train.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Same thing happened to all the passenger cell phones and tablets.”

  “What does that have to do with our engines failing?” the engineer asked, his partner remaining silent.

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious all of this is connected.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Just look at the facts . . . A commercial jet suddenly falls out of the sky and crashes right in front of us. And it happens at precisely the same moment your state-of-the-art locomotive fails. Then, let’s factor in all of the passenger electronics failing, too. I seriously doubt any of this is just coincidence.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. What do you think it is?”

  Bunker took a deep breath and pinched his eyebrows. His mind churned through dozens of facts he’d read about. One answer came to mind. He craned his neck to look up. “I think we’re looking at an EMP.”

  “EMP? As in electromagnetic pulse?”

  “Yep. High altitude, I suspect.”

  “Aren’t those caused by nukes?”

  “That’s one way. But I don’t think one went off.”

  “Why not?”

  “If I remember right, EMPs only work in direct line of sight so we should’ve seen a mushroom cloud in order to be affected here. Since we didn’t and none of us have been incinerated by a nuclear blast, it must be something else.”

  “Some kind of new device?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Probably in space.”

  “Do you think it’s our technology, or someone else’s?”

  “Could be either. But unless this was just an accident, then it’s probably one of our enemies. The US has plenty of them who’d like nothing more than to take out all our electronics and send us back to the Stone Age.”

  “What about a solar flare?”

  “Maybe. But I think we’d see some indication of all that energy hitting our atmosphere. I’m guessing it would be one hell of a light show.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “If I’m right about this, then the electrical grid is probably down, too. So I wouldn’t worry about your corporate office. I’m sure they have their hands full at the moment with more than just your train.”

  The engineer nodded, but didn’t respond this time.

  The conductor finally joined in. “Did you notice the plane? It was all white with no markings. Even the windows were painted white. I haven’t seen one of those since my younger days, when I was stationed at the Tonopah Test Range.”

  “Isn’t that in Nevada?” the other man asked.

  “Yeah, not far from Area 51,” the conductor said with inflection in his voice, then hesitated. “But I thought they only flew FLUFs.”

  “FLUFs?” Bunker asked.

  “Fat Little Ugly Fuckers, otherwise known as a 737-200. Janet Airlines’ aircraft of choice. At least it used to be. What almost hit us was larger and a lot newer. 737NG if I’m not mistaken.”

  Bunker shrugged.

  “It’s a 737-800. Seems odd that they’d be flying here in Colorado,” the conductor said, turning to face the engineer. “That’s what? 900 miles out of their way?”

  “Yep, due west. B
ut don’t forget, Cheyenne Mountain isn’t far,” the engineer answered in a matter-of-fact way, while Bunker stood silently and listened to their discussion.

  “You mean NORAD?” the other man asked.

  “The very same. Maybe the crew of Janet was on their way for some meet-and-greet with the military when the EMP took them out.”

  “And us along with it.”

  “You know, it’s possible they were delivering some new technology they just developed to NORAD.”

  “Could the plane have been targeted?”

  “The timing does seem a little too perfect. Someone may have wanted to stop that delivery.”

  “My God. Then this wasn’t some accident.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “I wonder if the EMP was supposed to make the plane crash into NORAD? Sort of like 9/11, except this time using super high tech instead of onboard hijackers.”

  Bunker needed to change the discussion to something a little more constructive. These men obviously loved to speculate on conspiracy theories. Probably did so to help pass the time while they traveled across the country for hours on end.

  “Hey guys, I hate to interrupt but you have a train full of passengers to take care of right now.”

  The conductor turned his head to Bunker. “Right. Right. Sorry.”

  “Do you have an emergency plan in place for complete engine failure?”

  “Oh yeah. We have plans for every conceivable emergency.”

  “Can you get it? We should look it over.”

  “I would if I could, but it’s not printed anymore. It’s all on computer. When they did the new upgrades, the old paper manuals went away. The bean counters are always looking for ways to save costs.”

  “Seriously? That doesn’t make any sense. Once they’re printed, they’re printed. The cost is over with.”

  “Not with how often the government changes the safety rules and regs. We used to get an all new set of manuals every six months, with revisions and inserts being released every week. Now it’s all electronic. And since the computers are down—”

  “You’ve got nothing,” Bunker said, finishing the man’s sentence.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bunker retraced his steps, passing a number of passengers he recognized from his train car. They were outside and walking along the tracks to the front of the train where he’d just been. It was obvious their curiosity about the plane crash was pulling them forward. He could see it in their eyes as he zigzagged his way through them. He went inside the sightseeing car and found his original seat.

  “Well?” the blonde mom asked, while cradling her son in her lap. “What did you find out?”

  “Somehow the plane missed us. It went down a steep cliff and broke apart at the bottom of a canyon by the river. It doesn’t look good.”

  “So I was right?” Jeffrey asked in an excited voice. “The pilot turned when he saw us?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure. There’s a lot of wind out there, too. It could have caught the wings and made the plane turn. But it really doesn’t matter, sport. It missed us and that’s all that matters right now.”

  The woman cleared her throat, sounding a little choked up. “So, what about, uh, you know, survivors?”

  “Nope. Not a chance,” he said, keeping with her obvious desire not to reveal too much in front of her son. Bunker grabbed at his duffel in the overhead bin. He pulled it down and slung it over his right shoulder.

  “You’re leaving us?” she asked him with a frightened look on her face.

  He nodded, though he wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to respond. “Time to vacate.”

  She hesitated for a second, then her eyes lit up. “Is there a fire?”

  “Yes, but it’s not coming this way.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He lowered his voice, not wanting the nearby passengers to hear him. “I don’t think this is a simple power outage. There’s more at play here. If I’m right, then staying with the train is a mistake. It won’t be long before the rest of the passengers come to the same conclusion and start a panic.”

  “What about the Amtrak people? I’m sure they have emergency plans for this sort of thing.”

  “You’d think so, but no.”

  “Then my son and I should leave, too, right?”

  “Yep, I’d suggest grabbing your gear and bugging out.”

  The woman’s eyebrows pinched and so did her nose. She hesitated for a full breath, then slid over on the seat with her son in her lap. When her feet hit the floor, she let her boy slide off her legs before she stood up and pointed. “Can you hand me the blue backpack and the one next to it?”

  “Sure,” he said, snatching both of the bags and giving them to her.

  “Lead the way, kind sir,” she said in a matter-of-fact way.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “We’re coming with you.”

  “Uh. . . no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I always travel alone.”

  “Not today you don’t.”

  “But—”

  She interrupted him by holding her hand up like a stop sign. “This isn’t open for discussion.”

  Bunker thought about continuing the debate with her, but the determined look on her face told him it would be a waste of time. Time he didn’t think he had.

  He sighed. “Fine. It’s a free country. Do what you want. But the minute you slow me down, you’re on your own. Both of you. Understood?”

  “So much for chivalry,” she said with a sweeping roll of her eyes.

  “Hey Miss, nobody’s holding a gun to your head. You can go wherever you want, but if you decide to tag along, then you do so under my rules. I make the decisions, understood?”

  “Sure, fine, whatever. Oh, and by the way, my name is Stephanie King. Not Miss. Not Steph. It’s Stephanie. And this is my son, Jeffrey,” she said with a firmness to her words. She held out her hand in a friendly manner.

  He wrapped his palm around hers and gave it a firm but quick shake. “Bunker. Nice to meet you. Now let’s jet.”

  “Is there first name? Or are you one of those guys who only goes by his last name? Some kind of uber-cool, macho thing.”

  “It’s Jack. But I prefer to be called Bunker.”

  “Okay then, Mr. Jack Bunker,” she said, extending an open palm in the direction of the exit. “Lead the way.”

  Right then, Bunker knew she was going to be a handful. She may have agreed to follow his rules, but he figured her compliance would only last as long as it suited her. He was starting to understand why she and her old man didn’t get along.

  “Wait, what about me?” Jeffrey asked, holding out his hand.

  Bunker took the tiny boy’s palm in his and gave it a gentle shake. He didn’t know what to say to the wide-eyed kid, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “Now we’re not strangers anymore,” Jeffrey said, his face beaming a full smile.

  “Where to first?” Stephanie asked after wrapping her arms around Jeffrey and pulling him in close to her.

  Bunker leaned in and put his lips next to her ear for an even quieter whisper. “Dining car. Need to stock up on some supplies before they’re all gone. Once the rest of these people realize help isn’t coming, it’s going to be a free-for-all. Let’s grab what we can and get the hell out of here.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later . . .

  Stephanie kept Jeffrey in front of her as she followed the gruff man and his drab-green duffel bag out of the dining car and down the set of aluminum steps. Her backpack was now twice as heavy thanks to the three bottles of water Bunker had stuffed inside.

  She didn’t like the fact he put the heaviest stuff in her pack, while filling his with mostly candy bars and other snacks. At least the man was gracious enough to pay for everything like a gentleman should.

  Not much had gone right since the recent divorce from her high school sweetheart, but she was
thankful for her sneakers. If she’d worn heels today like normal, her feet never would’ve made it through the upcoming hike. She wasn’t sure where the three of them were going, but it was obvious it was going to be a long walk.

  “Which way?” she asked, keeping a close eye on the muscular man with the tattooed fingers and bandages on his neck.

  “South, to a small town we passed a half hour ago. I think the sign said Clearwater.”

  “Are we going back home, Mommy?” Jeffrey asked.

  Stephanie kept her eyes on Bunker, never looking down at her son. “Why downhill and not up? Shouldn’t we be heading to Denver?”

  “My rules. My decisions. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask any questions. Maybe you forgot, but I’ve got a son to protect and we don’t exactly know you.”

  Bunker didn’t respond. He only stood there blinking rapidly with that deadpan look of his. Granted, he was a nice-looking man, but Bunker’s stare made her stomach uneasy.

  She continued, “Well, Mr. Bunker, you might as well get used to it right now, I’m gonna ask questions. And I’m gonna need answers. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”

  His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “No, I guess not. Just try to keep it down to a minimum, okay? Otherwise we’re just wasting time.”

  “Agreed. So why south?”

  “Well, Ms. Stephanie, for three reasons. First, we don’t know how far we are from Denver. It could be a couple of days’ walk, or maybe longer. But we do know how long it’s been since we passed the last town. In survival situations, accurate information is key to making good decisions. Decisions that just might save your life. The worst thing you can do is make risky assumptions when your life is on the line.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

  “More or less. Plus the tracks ahead are out. We’d have to find another way around the canyon before we could even think about heading up to Denver. That means miles and miles of additional hiking.”