For the moment, he didn’t hate himself, and that was a positive first step. His personal ledger of good deeds versus evil acts was still horribly out of balance, but saving dozens of kids had to count for something. If not, then he was doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the flames of hell.
His eyes wandered across the square and landed on a busy seven-pump gas station called Billy’s Pump and Munch. Bunker pointed at the establishment’s sign and smirked. “Gotta love that name.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think the town council was too fond of it at first, but when Billy Jack explained how much cash he was going to dump into downtown, they approved his plans in a heartbeat. Funny how that works.”
“Money talks.”
“Yeah, even from a long-haired hillbilly like him. Though I think he should’ve spent some of that money on some new teeth. I’ve seen hockey players who look better.”
Bunker laughed, appreciating her humor.
She continued, “When he decided to add a bait shop and convenience store, Grace Charmer wasn’t too happy about it. Not that I could blame her, especially when it happened right after her husband died.”
“Judging by the line in front of her store, it hasn’t hurt her business too much.”
“That’s what the town’s planning commission kept telling her, but she still flipped out. Not too surprising if you know her.”
“She’s the one who attacked the customer with the broom earlier, right?”
“Yeah, for stealing soda, apparently. From what the Sheriff said, I guess it was one hell of a catfight.”
Tensions were understandably high but the citizenry seemed to be handling the day fairly well, probably due to small-town values where everyone was a neighbor and friend. At least on some level.
There was certainly more of the community he hadn’t seen, so it was possible for looting and altercations to be breaking out all across the area and he’d never know about it. But something in his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Not here. Not in this quaint little community—a destination where summer tourists flocked when the sun started its boil atop the arid deserts of Arizona and New Mexico.
Bunker was thankful he wasn’t in his brutal hometown of South LA, where there’d certainly be widespread trouble escalating by the minute. If the EMP blast had affected life in southern California like it had here, the City of Angels was probably tearing itself apart by now.
Bunker knew as well as anyone that mixing a major catastrophe with millions of desperate people usually results in lawlessness and anarchy. Especially when the citizens are already living on the edge and angry about their meager existence.
Bunker kept an eye on the ongoing conversation between the Mayor, Sheriff, and eleven of the townspeople. It looked intense based on the animated facial expressions. He tried to read some of their lips between the arm waving and finger pointing, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Occasionally a phrase or two would land on his eardrums, but he hadn’t heard enough to determine if the group was chatting about him or his mysterious background.
He was about to make a joke to Stephanie about the free floorshow, but held his tongue when the group seemed to reach an agreement. Smiles erupted on the faces of the citizens, then handshaking ensued before they split up into small groups and headed off in different directions.
“Here they come,” Stephanie said, referring to Sheriff Apollo and Mayor Buckley. She took the empty food sack from Bunker and crumpled it in her hand. “Do you want me to run interference?”
“Let’s see what they want first,” he answered, checking the bandages on his neck. They were still secure and covering up the wounds he’d given himself before he set off on his ‘walkabout’—a term Jeffrey had coined to describe Bunker’s one-way train ride to nowhere.
“Mr. Bunker,” the Sheriff said, “I’d like you to formally meet our esteemed mayor, Mr. Seth Buckley.”
“Damn fine to meet you, sir,” Bunker said, putting his hand out for the customary shake.
The Mayor grabbed his hand, wrapping his oversized grip around Bunker’s palm like a suffocating octopus. “Likewise. Jack, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Jack Francis Bunker is my full name, sir. But you can call me Bunker or Bunk, like everyone else, if it’s easier.”
Stephanie giggled. “Francis? Seriously?”
Bunker shrugged, shooting her an embarrassed look. He wasn’t sure why his lips decided to reveal his middle name, but they did. Usually he was in full control of himself, but for some reason, his skills were slipping, mainly around Stephanie.
He decided to disguise his overshare with some friendly banter. “It’s not like we get to pick our own names, now do we?”
“No doubt,” she quipped, still laughing.
Mayor Buckley cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. He looked at Bunker. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier, when you brought the kids back to their parents.”
“That was some kind of rescue,” Sheriff Apollo added.
“Glad to help. But I wasn’t alone. We all pulled together,” Bunker answered.
“Like family,” Stephanie added, shaking the Mayor’s hand as well. She was still smiling, but at least she wasn’t laughing at Bunker anymore.
“Well, hello Ms. King. Back already, I see,” the Mayor said, offering up a crooked smile.
“You knew I was gone?”
“Of course. It’s my job to know. Besides, news travels fast in a small town.”
“Then you must know about the divorce, too.”
“Yes, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Bill. But these things happen. I always thought you two looked good together.”
“I’m guessing he knows I took off for Denver,” she said in a dejected voice.
“Probably. But at least you’re back.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to be, Mayor. At least, not this soon. But what’s a mother to do? When your train stops in the middle of nowhere and a plane almost crashes into it, you gotta make a choice.”
The Mayor nodded, his eyebrows pinched. “Deputy Clark briefed us about everything a few minutes ago. That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. But Jack here kept me and my son safe. Like he did for all those kids.”
“Is that how you two met?” Buckley asked, pointing at Bunker, then at Stephanie.
She nodded. “We were sitting across from each other in the viewing car when the engines went out. I kinda forced myself on him and luckily, he let us tag along. Though I’m pretty sure he hated the idea.”
“I can understand that,” Buckley said. “I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. You’re not used to hearing the word no.”
“That I can believe,” Bunker said, flaring a snide look at her. “She’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, watch it, buddy,” she said, slapping his shoulder with a quick swipe of her hand.
Bunker laughed. “But in all seriousness, it’s a good thing she did, otherwise there’s no telling what might’ve happened to the kids. It was a team effort out there. Rescuing Megan wouldn’t have happened without her help—and, of course, Jeffrey’s.”
“Speaking of which, how’s that brilliant young man of yours doing?” Buckley asked Stephanie.
She pointed past the Mayor, aiming her finger at the ice cream parlor. Her son was still out front, making a mess of the treat. “He’s right there, if you want to say hello.”
Mayor Buckley twisted his neck and took a look, then brought his attention back to Stephanie. It looked like he was about to say something when out of nowhere, Deputy Clark showed up, gasping for breath.
“Sheriff, you need to come with me,” Daisy said in an eager tone, stopping the friendly banter of the group.
“What’s wrong?” Apollo asked.
“We’re picking up a signal.”
“How? Nothing’s working.”
“I fo
und a hand crank radio in the supply cabinet. It looks ancient but I was able to get it working. Somebody’s transmitting.”
“Emergency services?” Mayor Buckley asked.
“Not sure. Whoever it is, they’re using Morse code.”
“I can help you with that,” Bunker added.
Stephanie shot him a surprised look but didn’t say anything.
“You a military man?” the Sheriff asked him.
“In my younger days.”
“Come on, before it stops,” the Deputy said, waiving for Bunker to follow her.
Bunker gave the straps of his upright duffle bag to Stephanie. “Watch my stuff for me, okay?”
She took them, but kept quiet.
Bunker started behind Daisy, then stopped and whirled around to check on Stephanie. She looked both concerned and confused. He knew why and didn’t want her to worry about him taking off once he was out of sight. “If you see Megan before I get back, give her a hug for me.”
Stephanie nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. She gave him a tentative hand wave, like she was saying goodbye forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jack Bunker adjusted his butt in the chair behind one of the desks in the Sheriff’s office. Next to him was Deputy Daisy. She, too, was sitting in a metal swivel chair as they listened to the dots and dashes arrive across the weak radio signal. Sheriff Apollo and Mayor Buckley had crowded in behind them with their arms folded.
“Keep cranking it,” the Sheriff said to Daisy. “Don’t let the power run low.”
Behind the men in charge were a few townspeople Bunker didn’t know: three males and two females. So far, none of them had said a word.
Bunker jotted down the Morse code message on a yellow pad, using line breaks when he heard extended pauses in the communication. After the ninth line of the message, the broadcast stopped, sending only static across the airwaves. He waited another thirty seconds to see if the message continued. When it didn’t, Bunker put the pencil down. “I guess that’s it.”
“What does it say?” Daisy asked.
“Not much. Just a series of numbers.”
She leaned in close. “What kind of numbers?”
He ran the tip of his finger under the first line to reinforce his explanation. “Whole numbers in groups of five.” He tilted the pad up for the Mayor to see.
Bunker decided to call out some of the numbers so everyone could hear, even the citizens in the back. “The first set is 32, 71, 117, 161, 10. The second is 39, 83, 104, 82, 11.”
“What do you think they mean?” Daisy asked.
He brought the pad down. “Beats me. Maybe if I’d caught the first part of the transmission, we’d know what these are for. Without a frame of reference, they could be lottery numbers for all we know.”
Daisy gave him a look of amusement. “Well, I’m pretty sure they’re not. I’ve been playing the lottery most of my life and I don’t ever remember seeing a number over a hundred. Winning is almost impossible anyway, so having over a hundred balls in the hopper would raise the odds to astronomical.”
“You’re right,” Bunker said. “Nobody would ever play.”
“Let me take a look,” Sheriff Apollo said, extending his hand.
Bunker gave him the pad of paper.
Apollo studied it, his eyes scanning down the page one line at a time. “This one,” he said, tilting the pad and pointing to the second string of numbers, starting with 39 and 83. “I think I know what this is. Back in the day, I used to do pro bono work for the Colorado Historical Society, helping them conduct architectural surveys for protected lands and other culturally significant areas. All the surveys included specific sets of GPS coordinates, so I knew the exact boundaries of the land in question. Seems to me a lot of my work involved sites that started with 39 and something in the 80s.”
“Latitude?” Bunker asked.
“Yes, and 104 for the starting longitude. But GPS is usually four numbers, not five, when it’s written in shorthand like this.”
Mayor Buckley grabbed the list from Apollo. “Do you have a map around here? We need to see if these line up to something.”
“I’ll get the area maps,” Daisy said, standing up from the chair in a flash. “They have coordinates along the side.” She returned a few seconds later and gave the thick book to Apollo.
He opened it and fanned through the colorful pages until he found the section for Colorado. He ran a finger down the two sides of the map until he found the numbers on the list. He brought his fingers together until they met at the intersecting point. “Yep, Colorado Springs, all right.”
“But what’s the eleven on the end for?” Daisy asked.
“Maybe it’s the local time?” Bunker answered.
“Time for what?” she asked.
“Detonation?” he said in a leading manner.
Her face pinched for a second, then released as her eyes went wide. “Oh my God.”
“Check the rest of them,” Mayor Buckley ordered, giving the list to the Sheriff.
“Looks like the first set is for San Diego,” Apollo said after flipping forward in the book and tracking the numbers down.
“Not far from my hometown,” Bunker muttered without thinking. He hadn’t planned to reveal that information to anyone but Stephanie. But now that it was out there, he needed to play along with his own mistake. Otherwise, it might raise suspicions. “Gonna be chaos in the streets.”
“You’re from San Diego?” Daisy asked. “I love San Diego, especially the Gas Lamp District.”
“Actually, I’m from LA. But San Diego is nice. Been there a few times.”
“Well,” Apollo said after checking more coordinates, “looks like the others are for Pensacola, Virginia Beach, Huntsville, Tacoma, Anchorage, Charleston, and Las Cruces.”
“If the part of the message we missed contained more numbers—” Daisy said, stopping in mid-sentence.
“Then a bunch of other cities are without power,” Bunker said, “and tech.”
“If we’re right, then these were planned detonations,” Buckley added. “Not some random accident.”
“Detonations? Did someone nuke us?” one of the male civilians asked from the back of the group.
“I don’t think so,” the Sheriff answered. “We haven’t seen any signs of a mushroom cloud or radiation. No, this was probably something else.”
Bunker agreed with Apollo. “Since EMPs only work in direct line of sight, it must’ve been somewhere overhead to affect all of us here. Otherwise, the height of the mountains would’ve protected your electronics from a surface blast. Since we’re all still alive and not suffering from radiation poisoning, this must be some kind of new EMP device. I don’t know what else it could be.”
“Who would do this to us?” the same man in the back asked.
“Could be anyone. Seems like everyone hates us these days,” an unidentified woman’s voice added.
“Well, not just anyone,” Bunker said, letting his mind churn through the possibilities. “It’d have to be a country who’s technologically advanced. Someone with the capability and the guts to plan something like this.”
Apollo nodded. “Damn smart, if you think about it. They didn’t want to run the risk of contaminating the atmosphere, or themselves, with a series of nukes. Radiation would drift everywhere in the high-altitude winds.”
“Yes, high altitude. That’s where the blast must have been in order to affect us here,” Buckley said, regurgitating what Bunker had just shared.
“Long-range missiles from Russia or China could probably deploy what we’re talking about here,” Bunker said.
“How? Don’t we have defense systems and radar to stop something like this?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah, we do. But what if the attackers launched a cyber attack at the same time?” Apollo asked. “Remember, NORAD’s not far from here, in Colorado Springs.”
“Then they must have blinded us so we couldn’t react,” she said, nodding.<
br />
“Exactly,” Apollo answered.
Daisy exhaled slowly. “Probably targeted the grid computers as well. You know, to make sure their plan worked. With all the cyber attacks we hear about on the news, there’s no telling how many systems they’ve hacked.”
Bunker agreed, connecting a few more ideas in his thoughts. “Let’s face it, our government always seems to be distracted with endless bickering between the parties and dealing with scandals and cover-ups. It left the door open for our adversaries to plan and execute this while we weren’t paying attention. There are some really smart people out there, and I don’t think it would take much to plant a bunch of sleeper programs in our critical computer systems. Then, when they were ready, unleash hell to take us down. Like today.”
“The NSA was doing the exact same thing to other countries. Remember the Snowden leaks about sleeper programs?” Daisy said.
“Then the whole country is without power,” the male voice in the back said.
“What if those coordinates are not for detonation, but for destination?” Buckley asked, his voice sounding more authoritative than before.
“You mean invasion?” Apollo asked him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bunker saw the look on the Mayor’s face change to one of deep concern. Then his head sank. After a short pause, the well-dressed man brought his eyes up to the Sheriff. “What if the last numbers in those strings don’t represent the time? What if they are military division numbers?”
“Whole divisions?”
“Yes, one assigned for each location.”
“How many troops are in a division?” Daisy asked Bunker in a casual whisper.
“About 10,000. Sometimes 15.”
Her face ran white and she sucked in her lower lip.
Apollo’s eyes drifted away from the Mayor for a few seconds, then he scratched his chin and said to Bunker, “They would need GPS coordinates to find their way across a foreign country. So maybe.” He flashed a look at Bunker to indicate he was waiting for another take on the idea.
Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 1, 2, and 3) Page 15
