Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

  Grace put her hands on her hips. “Okay, if what you say is true, then tell me this . . . Why did you run? Only guilty people run.”

  “Because I saw a crazy woman coming at me with a broom! You’d run, too, if you were in my shoes.”

  The sheriff looked at Grace, pinching his eyebrows. “I thought you said she jumped you?”

  “She did. After I hit her with the broom.”

  “Of course I did! I had to defend myself,” Allison snarled, pointing at the cut above her eye. “Look at what she did to me, Sheriff. And for no good reason. She’s dangerous and should be locked up. We can’t have people running around town and committing attempted murder with a deadly weapon!”

  “Deadly weapon? Are you crazy? It was just a broom.”

  “Still, you could’ve killed me with it, if I hadn’t fought back.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill you. I was just protecting my store from a thief. I had every right to stop you before you ran outside.”

  “Don’t believe her, Sheriff. You need to arrest her right now, before someone gets killed by this witch and her broom,” Allison said, with disdain dripping from her lips in the form of spittle.

  Apollo looked at Albert and Dustin. “What did you guys see?”

  Albert responded, “Pretty much what they just said. Next thing I know, they’re pulling hair and trying to punch each other.”

  “Why didn’t you stop it?”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah, that’s your job. To keep the peace. That’s why I sent you here. To make sure everyone behaved in an orderly, efficient manner.”

  “I thought we were only supposed to observe and report. Not get involved after what happened to me at the gas station earlier.”

  Apollo shook his head, realizing these two deputies were going to need a lot of training just to perform the basics of their new assignment. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know when to step in and stop two older women from trying to beat the snot out of each other. “Can you at least tell me if there was theft involved?”

  Albert shrugged. “No way to know for sure. She could’ve been headed for the back of the line or the door. But she was definitely drinking the item before paying. That much I’m sure of. Oh, and the gray-haired lady definitely hit the other one first. The rest of it was just an old, wrinkly blur.”

  “What about you?” the sheriff asked the other deputy. “Anything to add, Dustin?”

  The string bean shook his head and swallowed his lower lip for a few seconds before answering. “Nah, that’s basically what happened. I was thinking about going to get ya, but then you just showed up on your own. I thought, cool. I can just watch. You know, catfight and all.”

  “So, Sheriff . . . are you going to arrest her or not?” Grace asked. “We can’t just let people steal.”

  “I told you, I wasn’t stealing,” Allison shot back at Grace.

  “I’d prefer not to arrest anyone,” Apollo said, making eye contact with both of them. “As far as I’m concerned, this was just a big misunderstanding. What I’d like to see happen is for both of you to apologize to each other and then shake hands. Can you do that? Or do I need to throw both of you in jail?”

  Grace folded her arms over her chest and let her head sink.

  Allison put her hands on her hips and tilted her head a few degrees to one side. Her lips were pinched.

  “Come on, ladies. I’ve got more important things to do right now than referee the two of you. I’m not going to ask again. Shake hands and apologize or I’m locking you both up. Your choice.”

  Grace nodded, though tentatively.

  Allison did the same.

  “Sorry I hit you with the broom. I shouldn’t have done that,” Grace said, putting her hand out for a shake.

  “I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I’m sorry, too,” Allison answered, taking Grace’s hand in hers. The two ladies shook, then turned and walked away from each other.

  “Nice work, Sheriff,” Dustin said.

  “All in a day’s work,” Apollo said. “But next time you see a couple of women start to go at it, jump in and stop it. Just be gentle. Understand?”

  “Got it, chief,” Dustin answered.

  Apollo looked at Albert and waited for him to respond.

  “Yeah, okay. Next time. Though to be perfectly honest, I kinda wanted to see the rest of the fight. I’ve heard that sometimes clothes get torn off.”

  Apollo rolled his eyes and turned for the door.

  Just then, someone outside yelled, “Oh my God!” It was a woman’s voice, and her sudden outburst caused the rest of the crowd to turn in unison and face the center of the square.

  A collective gasp rose up from the throng of onlookers, as if it had been scripted for a Hollywood movie. A split second later, most of them took off in a slow jog in the direction they were looking.

  “Good God, what now?” Apollo said, turning to Albert and Dustin. Their eyes were glued on the ruckus beyond the door. “You two, stay here.”

  “But it looks like the action’s out there,” Albert said.

  “Hey, there’s the Mayor,” Dustin added, tapping Albert on the shoulder, then pointing his bony hand outside.

  Apollo whirled his head around and spotted Mayor Buckley, trotting alongside the citizens in his sport coat.

  Apollo looked back at Dustin. Then Albert. “Wait here till I get back. That’s an order,” he said with a clenched jaw before breaking into a full sprint to catch up to the Mayor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Five minutes earlier . . .

  Bunker adjusted the position of the tiny black girl lying in his arms as they headed farther into the town of Clearwater. The makeshift knee brace he’d attached to Megan’s leg seemed to be doing its job. As long as he kept her ride smooth, she didn’t scream in pain.

  The streets were littered with abandoned cars and trucks, many of them sitting with their hoods open, and he knew why. When the EMP hit, it fried their electronics and killed their engines, just like with the Amtrak train. The drivers must have gotten out and lifted the hoods to see what was wrong.

  He wondered how long it took before they all realized some catastrophic event had just taken place. Sure, cars break down all the time, but never this many all at once. They had to realize something unusual had happened.

  He peered down at the injured girl in his arms when she fidgeted. The only light source was the moon, but he could still see her innocent eyes looking back at his. “We’re almost there, Megan. I’m sure your dad is going to be very happy to see you.”

  “Jack? Can I ask you something?” she asked in a tender, sweet voice.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Do you like horses?”

  “Sure. I like horses. Why?”

  “Because I want you to meet my horse when we get home. His name is Star. He’s really beautiful and gentle. You’re gonna love him.”

  Jack didn’t want to tell her no, or that he planned to skip town the first chance he got. So he chose something more neutral and noncommittal.

  “I’m sure he’s a wonderful horse,” he said, seeing Megan’s eyes close right before her breathing turned deep and full. She was out again, like she’d done several times since he rescued her.

  When they’d first left the scene of the accident, he and Deputy Clark tried putting Megan in a saddle, but her knee couldn’t take the long, uneven strides, or the effects of gravity.

  The girl cried in pain after every step, forcing Bunker to pull her off the animal and carry her to town in his arms. Megan didn’t weigh much, but after several miles, even his stout biceps were starting to feel the strain.

  Bunker turned his head for a moment, checking on the kids following behind. So far, they’d been pretty well behaved. He brought his eyes forward. “Looks like you were right,” he said to Stephanie.

  “About what?”

  “The kids walking.”

  “I’m glad you agree. Though I could’ve used your support ear
lier when I was trying to convince Daisy we didn’t want to try alternating who rode and who walked. That plan never would’ve worked. You can’t play favorites. Not with a bunch of hungry, tired kids.”

  “I figured you two had it handled. That’s why I stayed out of it. You know, go along to get along.”

  “Coward,” she said, wearing a smile.

  Bunker had another question to ask, but wasn’t sure if he should. Something had been nagging at him ever since they’d rescued Megan from the bus. He thought about it for a few more strides, then decided to let the words fly. “So what’s the deal with you two?”

  The smile vanished from her lips. “What do you mean? With Daisy?”

  “Yeah. The tension is so thick, I can taste it.”

  “There’s some history.”

  “I gathered that.”

  “It’s too bad because we used to be good friends. But after what she did, I can’t stand to look at her anymore.”

  He could hear the emotional pain in her words. “That’s why she seems to cave into whatever you suggest. I was wondering.”

  “Yeah, she owes me. Big time.”

  “What happened?”

  “I really don’t want to go into it right now,” she answered, shooting a look down at Jeffrey then at Bunker.

  He understood. She didn’t want her son to hear the details. “Gotcha. Forget I asked.”

  Stephanie had also persuaded Daisy earlier to leave the bus driver’s body behind until someone could return and retrieve him from the bus. She didn’t want the kids seeing the dead body of their teacher flopping around on a horse.

  If the rumor was true about the driver having a pacemaker, then it seemed logical to assume the device failed when the EMP blasted the area. Assuming Bunker’s theory was correct, then the bus accident was random and uncontrolled. The kids got lucky. The bus could have easily plowed into a tree or hit one of the unmovable boulders in the clearing, sending more of the kids flying than just Megan. The injury toll would have been much worse. Some may have been fatal.

  Stephanie let go of Jeffrey’s hand for a moment to adjust the oversized coat she was wearing. One of the male deputies had given up his jacket so she could cover up her bra and stay warm.

  If Bunker had to do it over again, he never would have used her shirt as lashing material for Megan’s knee brace. Instead, he could have cut strips of material from one of the seats in the bus.

  Jeffrey hadn’t been talking much during the trek back to town. For most of the day, the kid had been a non-stop question machine, giggling occasionally for no apparent reason. Bunker figured the boy was tired and running on fumes.

  When you’re exhausted, the first thing to go is your willingness to engage in excess conversation. Cranky Mute was term Bunker’s mother used to throw at him when he was little.

  On the right, Deputy Daisy had her hands full with two redheaded girls, both literally and figuratively. The twins, Barb and Beth, loved to swing their arms and were chatterboxes, yanking on Daisy like a pull toy. The deputy seemed to enjoy it. She played along with their frivolity, never complaining once.

  Barb was a little heavier than Beth, making it easy to keep them straight since her face was rounder. The key to telling them apart would be to look at them together, then he could compare their plumpness.

  The rest of the kids were behind Bunker and walking in a loose herd of pattering feet. At the rear of the slow-moving mass were the two male deputies who’d showed up in the clearing with Daisy.

  They were on foot, herding the kids like cattle while leading the horses loaded with packs. They seemed content to just do their jobs and take orders from Daisy. And from Stephanie. But that wasn’t the only thing Bunker found odd about the law enforcement trio. Only Daisy was dressed in uniform. The other two were in street clothes. He wasn’t sure why, but figured it had something to do with a sudden rescue mission on horseback.

  When they turned the next corner and passed a bicycle shop, his jaw dropped open. The massive town square was dead ahead, but so, too, were dozens of people facing away from him. There was a buzz of conversation going on.

  “Something’s happening inside Charmer’s Market,” Daisy said.

  “Grace’s place,” Stephanie added. “I hope something hasn’t happened to her.”

  “I take it you know her?” Bunker asked.

  “Yeah, nice lady. She lost her husband a while back in a freak tractor accident and was forced to step in and run his store. I remember the first couple of weeks. She was in way over her head and completely lost. I felt so sorry for her.”

  Before Bunker could take another step, one of the men in the crowd noticed their approach and pointed his finger at them. The man leaned to the left and must have said something to the others nearby because more of them turned around and stared.

  “Oh my God!” a woman’s voice called out from the crowd.

  With that, the rest of the crowd turned around and gasped. A second later, they started jogging—toward Bunker and his group.

  “Should I be worried?” he asked Daisy. “They’re not going to like some strange man carrying one of their daughters back to town.”

  “No. I got this. They know me,” she said, increasing her pace with the two girls. She raced ahead to intercept the flood of townspeople.

  “Mom!” one of the boys behind Bunker said before taking off in a full gallop.

  “Dad!” another said, following the first boy.

  More and more of the kids ran forward, sprinting to their respective family members. Hugs and kisses ensued, showering the children with love and affection.

  “There’s the Sheriff,” Stephanie said a few seconds later, pointing at a burly man wearing a uniform. He was in the middle of the pack and not very tall.

  “And the Mayor,” Stephanie added. “He’s the taller one in the sport coat.”

  Jack didn’t like the idea of getting cozy with all these strangers. Especially those in charge of an entire town, or those who happened to be wearing a badge.

  Luckily, Deputy Daisy hadn’t asked a lot of questions during their hike back to town, so he didn’t have to evade or lie to her. But the Sheriff would certainly want to know more. A lot more.

  Bunker’s fingerprints were in the system and he couldn’t take the chance someone would run a check and discover his past, if the power was ever restored.

  He looked at Stephanie. “Just so you know, once we get Megan back to her father, I’m gonna head out.”

  “You’re leaving?” Jeffrey asked, breaking his long silence.

  “Why?” Stephanie asked. “We just got here.”

  “I’m not all that comfortable in large groups. It’s best if I get on my way as soon as this is over. Besides, the last thing this town needs is another mouth to feed. With the power out, things are going to get dicey.”

  “Is it because of what I saw under your shirt?” she asked.

  “Partly.”

  “But you said you weren’t that man anymore.”

  “I’m not. But a man’s past follows him wherever he goes. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t outrun it. It’s always there, stalking him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not exactly sure what that means, but whatever.”

  “Look, I know you have a million questions and frankly, I don’t blame you. But let’s face it; I don’t exactly blend in. Or fit in, for that matter. I’m a complete stranger to these people. An outsider. So trust me when I say my presence here would only add more risk to what’s already a risky situation.”

  “Please, Mr. Bunker, don’t leave. Please,” Jeffrey pleaded.

  “I have to, sport. It’s for the best.”

  She shrugged. “Fine. If you wanna leave, then leave. It’s a free country. All I can say is I’m not surprised. You can never count on men to step up when you really need them.”

  “I understand why you say that, but you really don’t know me. There’s more to this than you realize. I’m just looking out for you
and your son.”

  “Hey, we all have a past,” she said like a talk show host, tilting her head back and forth.

  “That’s true. But not like mine.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m afraid you’ll hate me. So let’s just leave things as they are,” he said as residents of Clearwater began to surround the four of them.

  “Like I said, whatever,” she said, changing her voice to a whisper before she spoke again. “The dude in the cowboy hat is Megan’s father, Franklin Atwater. He runs the horseback riding club just outside of town.”

  A tall, trim black man with broad shoulders and a full beard stepped forward. He was in full Western gear, including flannel shirt, jeans, and a bronze belt buckle. His boots were polished and so was the silver bolo tie around his neck.

  “My goodness, what happened to her?” Franklin asked, looking at Bunker first, then Stephanie. “Is she okay?”

  Stephanie took the lead and answered. “We think she was sitting up on the seat when the bus crashed. I’m afraid she took quite a tumble.”

  “You two found her?” Franklin asked.

  Stephanie nodded. “Her and the rest of the kids.”

  “Where’s Wilhelm?” Franklin asked.

  “He didn’t make it,” she answered in a somber tone.

  A long pause fell over the group.

  “Don’t forget, I helped, too!” Jeffrey said, breaking the silence.

  “I’ll bet you did,” Franklin said, smiling at the boy and patting him on the head.

  “Yes, he was very brave,” Stephanie said, bending down to wrap her arms around her son’s shoulders. She finished her squeeze, then stood up to face Franklin. “You should know that the bus was hanging over a cliff when my new friend here, Mr. Jack Bunker, crawled in and risked his own life to save your daughter.”

  Franklin looked stunned for a moment, then returned to reality. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, holding out his arms to receive his daughter. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”