Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

  Sort of like when she decided to follow her ex-husband one night and caught him cheating on her. Once she knew it to be true, she couldn’t pry it out of her head. Up until that moment, she could live in peaceful ignorance by convincing herself he wasn’t being a total douchebag.

  Right now, she didn’t know anything for sure about Bunker, and that was enough to keep her sanity in check and her denial in place. She needed to count on this man to keep them all safe, and adding a pile of worry about his past wasn’t going to help her get through the day.

  She shook her head. “Like I said, it’s your business. Not mine. Let’s just get the kids out, okay? They’re the only thing I care about at the moment.”

  “Agreed,” he said, kneeling down in a crouched position, still facing away from her.

  She took a quick step back and watched him wad up his shirt and toss it inside the bus through what she assumed was an open window.

  Bunker pointed and spoke to one of the kids inside the bus. “You—what’s your name?”

  A deep voice said, “Tommy.”

  “Tommy, you look like the tallest, so I need you to hold my shirt over the glass on the door when Stephanie breaks it. Keep your hands high and turn your head away, okay? Can you do that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just don’t let any of the other kids move any closer to the front of the bus. Everyone needs to stay in the back. Okay? It’ll be a tight fit for all of you, but you can do it.”

  Stephanie returned to her position at the back door. Bunker’s shirt was now hanging on the inside of the glass like he’d instructed the kid to do.

  “Go ahead. Do it,” Bunker told her. “Then work the rock around the frame to clear all the sharp edges so the kids can crawl out safely.”

  She swung the rock at the glass, but it slipped out of her hand before impact. It flew through the glass and wrapped itself inside the cotton of Bunker’s shirt before landing inside.

  Her trembling hand went inside the window. “Here, give it back to me,” she told Tommy. “But be careful.”

  The boy gave her the wad of cloth and stone. She unwrapped it, then tossed the shirt up to Bunker, who was now sitting along the edge of the bus with his knees in front of his chest. She could see small portions of tattoos along his side, but not enough to make out what they were. “Here, you need to cover up so the kids don’t see.”

  She was tempted to look away as he began to put the shirt on, but didn’t. Bunker slipped the garment over his head and pulled it down before uncoiling his legs from in front of his chest. His movements looked awkward and clumsy, indicating he didn’t want her to see whatever was drawn on his chest.

  It was time to clear the shards from the window frame as Bunker suggested. Stephanie ran the rock around the edges, keeping her fingers away from anything sharp. When she was done, she tossed the stone away.

  Inside, two of the kids had their backpacks on. It gave her an idea. She pointed at the boy on the left—a blonde-haired lad with dimples on his cherub cheeks and a line of freckles painted across his cute, turned-up nose that came to a rounded point. “I need your backpack, honey. Can you give it to me?”

  The boy nodded, then slipped out of the straps and gave it to her. She positioned it just inside the door, on what was now the floor.

  Her plan was to pile the backpacks on the floor to protect the kids from the broken glass and to create a soft staging area for them to use when they crawled out.

  “Give me the rest of your backpacks,” she commanded, taking them from the kids and putting them in place.

  “Let’s go. One at a time. Crawl on top of the packs so you don’t cut yourself,” she said, taking the hand of a girl with pigtails.

  Stephanie’s hands supported the child as she worked her petite frame across the backpack and out of the door’s missing window.

  When the girl was safely outside, Stephanie pointed for her to go stand by her son, then reached inside the vehicle for another child’s hand.

  Stephanie continued the process, helping more of the children escape. Each time another pair of tiny feet found freedom, she knew the bus might give way and tumble to the bottom of the ravine.

  Like her heart rate, the chances of tragedy were rising with each child she rescued. But she wasn’t about to stop. She could feel the burn of Jeffrey’s watchful eyes pressing on her from behind.

  Her son was probably more scared than she was, and that made her want to stop what she was doing and go comfort him. But she couldn’t. Lives were at stake and she had to work faster.

  Child after child climbed out, each time using the makeshift step she’d built from the backpacks as a handhold and kneeling point.

  Her conviction seemed to grow stronger with each young person she saved, adding to the weight of her responsibility.

  No way any of these precious kids are dying today. Not on my watch.

  Her heartbeat continued to escalate, stiffening her chin and her resolve. The unsteadiness was gone from her hands and replaced by added strength, allowing her to work faster.

  She was doing it—saving these kids from certain death. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself in this position and having the guts to see it through.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sheriff Gus Apollo stood next to Mayor Buckley while his boss ran his finger down another page in the dusty binder containing the town’s Official Emergency Plan.

  Buckley’s hand stopped a second later, indicating his skimming had turned into reading. “When was this thing written?” he asked a few seconds later, moving his hand to the upper right corner of the paper and flipping through two more pages.

  “In the seventies, I believe. Obviously, long before word processors and laser printers were invented. Based on the typeset and ink, I’m guessing it was typed on an old IBM Selectric. I used to rock that thing back in the day.”

  “Seventies, huh? That sounds about right. There’s all this talk about the USSR and Czechoslovakia. Country names that don’t even exist anymore.”

  “Then it’s probably not going to be very helpful,” Gus said, hearing a commotion behind him. He spun in time to see one of his newly-minted Deputies coming through the thinning crowd in the reception area of the Sheriff’s Office.

  It was Deputy Albert and he was holding onto an eight-inch, bronze-colored handle belonging to a yellow metal box. Its distinctive block shape and bright color told Gus what it was: a vintage Geiger counter.

  Albert held it up, sending the flab on the underside of his arm into a full wiggle. “Here you go, Sheriff. That smoking hot Daisy chick dropped this off a minute ago before she took off with those jocks you assigned to Team Three.”

  Gus ignored the digs and sexual references as he took the unit from his underling and held it up for closer inspection. The name plate told him it was an Anton CDV0700 Model 5, and it looked to be in great shape. There were no scratches anywhere on the paint and the glass covering the meter was clean and intact.

  Albert held up his other hand. “You might need this, too.”

  A black headset with a dangling cord came at Gus from Albert’s position, catching him off guard.

  Albert cleared his throat. “This plugs in the jack labeled Phone.”

  Gus took the item and inserted the connector as Albert had suggested. Then he slipped the headset on and positioned the single speaker over his ear.

  “The black knob turns it on,” Albert said. “The x10 setting is what you should use.”

  Gus got the feeling that Albert had tried the device before bringing it inside. “Does the battery still work?”

  “Ten-four. Pretty damn surprising if you ask me, considering how old that thing is. I think Moses must have used it last. You know, before loading the animals and all.”

  “That was Noah and the Ark,” the Mayor said, with frustration growing on his face. “Moses parted the Red Sea, you dum—”

  It looked like Albert was going to respond to the Mayor’s forthc
oming insult, so Gus decided to jump in and run interference. He brought the unit up to block Albert’s view of Buckley. It seemed to keep the overweight kid from speaking.

  Gus spoke an instant later. “Yep. This thing is almost as old as me, and that’s saying something. But you know what they say . . . they don’t build ‘em like this anymore. Thanks for bringing it in, Albert. You may return to your post.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said before looking at the Mayor and letting a lingering sneer hang in the air. “I’ll be outside in case anyone needs me,” he said before turning and waddling away.

  The Mayor looked at Gus and gave him a raised eyebrow and a quick smirk.

  Gus let out a genuine smile as he focused on the device in his hands. He turned the unit on, ratcheting the black control knob to the setting of x10.

  He could hear the subtle, high-pitched whine of the Geiger’s power systems ramping up inside the earpiece. A few moments later, a sparse, random crackle began to take over.

  Gus moved the device from side to side in front of him, listening for any drastic changes in tone and intensity through the headset. There were none.

  “I think we’re okay,” he told his boss.

  “That’s one piece of good news,” the Mayor said. “We’ll see what my grandson comes up with when you send him out into the field. Assuming he can follow instructions properly.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, sir. It’s pretty simple to operate. Won’t take but a couple of minutes to show him what to do.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bunker stood with the tips of his shoes hanging over the edge of the bus, looking down at Stephanie. The slender woman’s hands moved with precision and speed as she rescued two more kids through the shattered glass of the rear door.

  A few of the children had cuts, bruises, and some blood on their cheeks and foreheads, but so far none of their injuries looked serious.

  Shock and fear are the biggest worries now, Bunker thought. These kids are going to need some serious counseling when this is over.

  Stephanie’s right arm went into the bus again. “Okay, come on, sweetheart. Just give me your hand. I’ve gotcha, I promise,” she said with a breathy voice.

  A few seconds later, Bunker could see a patch of curly brown hair and a blue and white pullover shirt coming out of the opening below. They belonged to a stocky boy who was now free and running toward his classmates, who’d formed a half circle twenty feet behind Stephanie.

  She looked up at Bunker and nodded, showing a face full of disbelief. “The kids are out. We got ‘em, Bunker. All of them.”

  “No, you did, Steph. Nice work,” he said, waiting for her to scoot away from the bus.

  But she didn’t. She sighed instead, then leaned a bit forward and peered into the bus. “Now we just need to figure out how to get the you-know-what out. If we even can.”

  Bunker knew what she was referring to—the driver’s corpse—and agreed with her decision not to use the words ‘dead body’ in front of the kids.

  He’d been thinking about how to recover the driver and wasn’t sure if they could do it safely. If anyone went inside the bus and moved forward, there was a good chance the shift in weight would send the bus over the cliff. There was no way to know how much counterbalance the rocks on top were providing, so going inside was a blind gamble.

  When he tossed his shirt down to Tommy earlier, he got a good view of the driver. The man’s neck was twisted back and to the left, sitting on his left shoulder at a grotesque angle.

  As far as Bunker was concerned, dragging his body out now wasn’t worth the risk. That left only one choice—jumping off the bus and letting it plunge into the ravine. Law enforcement could recover his body later.

  He figured Stephanie wouldn’t want the kids to see their bus driver disappear over the edge. She’d probably want to gather up the children and escort them to the road. He was about to suggest that very idea, but held his tongue when one of the kids blurted out an unexpected question. It was the boy in the pullover who’d been rescued last.

  “What about Megan?” the kid asked, his voice crackling with pubescent tones.

  “Who?” Bunker answered, feeling the sting of the question rattle his bones.

  “Megan. She was goofing around on the back of the seat when we crashed. I think she got hurt pretty bad when she went flying. We heard her crying for a while after it first happened, but now I think she’s asleep or something.”

  “Where is she?” Bunker asked, feeling a sharp pressure squeezing the blood out of his heart.

  “In the front somewhere. By our driver, Mr. Wilhelm. He has a pacemaker, but I think he’s dead.”

  When Bunker was taking off his shirt earlier, he was so focused on the kids in the last few rows of the bus that he never thought to check the front for any more children. If the boy’s recap of the accident was correct, then the injured girl was probably unconscious and near the dead man in the driver’s seat.

  “We can’t leave her in there, Bunker,” Stephanie said, her face now devoid of color. “We have to get her out.”

  “You’re right, but if she’s in the front, how are we going to get to her? This thing’s probably going to go you-know-where if someone walks to the front,” he said, shooting a head nod in her direction to divert her attention from his eyes.

  She must have understood because she swung her head around and looked at the kids. The throng of grade-schoolers was closing in around her.

  Stephanie stood up and held out her arms to corral the unruly flock of sheep. “Kids, you need to stay back. Jeffrey, you too.”

  “But we want to help, Mom. To get the girl out.”

  “It’s not safe, son. Not for any of you. I need you to take the other children away from here,” she said, pointing at the line of trees behind them. “Go up on the road and wait for us. Can you do that, honey? Please?”

  “But Mom,” he said in a long, drawn-out tone. The other kids were nodding and mumbling supportive phrases to Jeffrey.

  “No, sweetheart. You need to take everyone back up to the road. Right now. Okay? It’s very important.”

  Jeffrey stood motionless, looking unsure as his eyes drifted away.

  “Baby, look at me,” she snapped.

  Jeffrey did as he was told, but didn’t speak.

  “Go . . . Now . . . Show them the way up to the pavement. I need you to be strong and make sure everyone is safe. Mr. Bunker and I will handle this. I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

  Her son nodded, then began to lead the kids away from the bus like she wanted.

  Right then, a soft cry came from inside the bus. Then a girl’s voice spoke up. “Daddy?”

  “Wait!” Bunker said.

  “What is it?” Stephanie asked.

  “Listen!” he said in an excited whisper.

  The girl called out again for her father, over and over, crying in between the words.

  Stephanie ran to the back door of the bus. “Megan? Honey? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Who’s out there?”

  “My name is Stephanie and I’m here to help you. Where are you, sweetheart?”

  “By Mr. Wilhelm. Behind his seat.”

  “Can you make your way to the back of the bus?”

  “No. My leg hurts really bad. I can’t move it.”

  “It’ll be okay, honey.”

  “Who’s on top of the bus? I hear someone.”

  “That’s my good friend, Jack Bunker. He’s here to help, too. We’re going to get you out of there.”

  “Are you coming to get me?”

  “Yes, Megan. Just stay where you are and don’t move until we tell you. Okay?”

  The girl answered with a yes.

  Right then a new idea tore into Bunker’s mind. “Hey, Steph?”

  She looked up.

  He made a sweeping finger motion at the kids, who were still standing behind her. “Their belts. I need them.”

  “Why?”

  “Rem
ember how I got us down from the tracks?”

  “Oh yeah. Right,” she said, turning her focus to Jeffrey. “Have all your friends take off their belts and leave them here.”

  Her son nodded, then collected the belts from the kids who were wearing them. Some weren’t very long, but a few were, giving Bunker hope that his plan just might work.

  Bunker watched Jeffrey pile them up by his mother’s feet, counting at least twenty. The boy made eye contact with him. “That’s all of them, Mr. Bunker.”

  “Good work, now get everyone to safety like your mother said.”

  “Will Megan be okay? She sounds really scared,” Jeffrey asked his mother.

  “We’ll get her out, I promise. But you need to go take care of all your new friends. Up on the road, now.”

  Jeffrey nodded.

  One by one, the group filtered out of the clearing and into the brush, where the incline to the road was waiting for them.

  After the last one disappeared, Stephanie looked at Bunker. “For a moment there, I thought he wasn’t going to listen to me.”

  “He’s a good kid. So are the rest. They only wanted to help the girl, and that says a lot.”

  “Thanks for saying that. As a mom, I try to teach him to always do the right thing, but sometimes, I’m not sure I’m getting through. It’s tough with his asshole of a father always getting in the way. Plus, all the influence of social media and video games. Kids these days are hit from all sides with way too much information. And way too much opinion. It makes being a parent just that much harder. Sometimes, I want to scream.”

  “From what I can see, you did good,” Bunker told her in a firm tone. “But I have to ask, you said the phrase new friends a little bit ago. Doesn’t Jeffrey know these kids from school? It’s a small town, after all.”

  “We’ve always home-schooled him. It’s what his father wanted.”

  “You taught him?”

  “No. We hired a full time, live-in tutor. Cute girl. She was great until the divorce. Then she took sides. Since I wasn’t the one paying her, you know how that turned out. I’m pretty sure she was another notch on his conquest belt, too, though I could never prove it. And to think I trusted that girl.”