Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2)

by Becca Fanning

  Gina got to her feet, taking extra care to make sure that she was okay to stand, and followed Dean out into the hallway. The shelf was large, but he was making good time with it. She followed him until he pulled it into the generator room and pushed it heavily against a wall.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when the task was done.

  “Making you a room,” he said. A room? But she had promised to leave. Why would he be cleaning out a room for her?

  “Why?”

  “You’ve got to stay somewhere.”

  “I’m leaving, Dean. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  “No,” he said, and pushed past her back into the hallway. Gina stood silent for a few moments, looking at the generator room. He’d only moved one shelf into the room. There was still plenty of room for the rest of their supplies, if they got creative in stuffing them everywhere there wasn’t a hot water heater, generator, or any of the other machines Gina didn’t recognize.

  Back at the storage room, Gina was greeted by a huge mess. There were still two more large shelves to the back and left walls, plus a small shelf to the right of the door. They were filled with supplies, plus there were some laying on the floor from the shelf Dean had already emptied.

  Gina bent down, picked up two medical kits, and headed for the new storage room.

  “Don’t,” Dean said from behind her, but Gina ignored him and carried the kits to the room and placed them on the shelf. She was feeling weak, but she wasn’t going to let her injury slow her down. Besides, she was taking it nice and slow, taking care not to exert herself.

  She dropped the kits off and made her way back to the storage room. Dean was unloading the next shelf, placing a bundle of blankets, sheets, and pillows in the corner where the old shelf has been.

  “I don’t need help,” Dean told her.

  “I’m fine,” Gina said, defiant. “If you’re going to make me a room to stay in, the least I can do is help you do it.”

  Dean’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he went back to unloading the shelves. Gina grabbed some of the blankets and carried them to the other room, making sure to drop off a couple in Dean’s bedroom for when she would need them herself.

  It was a long and slow process, made even tougher by her injury. She took a few breaks in the kitchen to down a glass of water at the table. Once Dean had emptied the shelves and hauled them to the generator room, the process speed up considerably. He was able to grab whole armfuls of supplies: four gas cans a trip, two massive toolboxes, and boxes upon boxes of food.

  The cot had been wedged behind one of the shelves. The next time Gina had gone into the old storage room, Dean had set the cot up and covered it with her chosen blankets. It was big for a cot, specifically designed for a Shifter, and it looked luxurious. Combined with the many blankets and pillows she had laid out, the cot wasn’t that uncomfortable.

  Dean came in to grab more items and saw her lying down.

  “It’s comfortable,” she told him, sitting up. “Thank you for this, Dean.”

  He grunted his assurance. Then he was back to taking supplies into the other room. Gina followed, wheeling some sort of small generator behind him. After what seemed like hours of work – though she couldn’t tell without the sun or a clock – they were finally finished.

  “Thank you again, Dean,” she told him, once they’d carried the last box into the new storage room. It was cramped in there, but they had worked some kind of mojo, and everything fit. Together, they had freed up a room specifically for Gina. She wondered if Dean meant for this arrangement to last. No matter how long she stayed here, she hoped he knew it was much appreciated.

  *

  It was the right thing to do, even though Dean knew it was something he shouldn’t have done. Gina had told him she planned to leave today, so why was it his problem to stop her? His life would be a lot easier if she left. Hers might not be, but why was that his problem?

  Still, he couldn’t let her just up and leave, especially when she was so weak. So, against his better judgment, he had decided to make her her own room. A place where she could feel comfortable. Plus, it would give him some space. It would give him his own room back. So it wasn’t all downsides.

  He was initially skeptical that the generator room would be too full. But he had managed to organize everything the way he had wanted. Most of the time, he’d had to rearrange everything Gina had put onto the shelves. She didn’t know how he kept everything organized. It had to be perfect: in a survival situation, you had to know exactly where everything was, and this was one of those situations.

  Now, she was in her bedroom and Dean was in his new storage room/generator room, taking inventory of everything they had. With Gina’s supplies, they were well stocked on the medical front. He had extra gas to run the emergency generator she’d wheeled into the corner. Of course, he’d moved it to behind the hot water heater, where it was better placed.

  He’d also found a few extra things he didn’t even know were there, much like the cups from the other day. He chastised himself for that; not knowing you had supplies was a good way to make a mistake, and get killed. He had found a few repair manuals written in his grandfather’s sprawling hand, perfectly written to tell Dean how to repair anything in the entire bunker.

  This bunker was his grandfather’s obsession, and it had shown. Everything needed to survive was in here. Dean just hoped that he wouldn’t mess anything up.

  There were a couple of spare Geiger counters as well, plus the spare batteries to keep them running. The one he had always used worked fine, but extras were always good. His grandfather had planned well. Now it was up to him to put that planning to good use.

  Still, he had to wonder what his grandfather would think of this situation. He would undoubtedly be disappointed in Dean. After all, he had broken the number one rule. Dean pushed that thought from his mind. His grandfather had been a hard man. Dean was nothing like him.

  I hope, he thought. Then he went into the kitchen and decided to make himself dinner. The important question now was: chicken fried rice or chili cheese mac? His stomach grumbled, but neither sounded good.

  *

  Gina had to admit, having her own room brought her unbelievable happiness. She hadn’t minded sleeping in Dean’s room; not exactly – but having her own, it just couldn’t be beat. The only thing in there currently was the cot, loaded down, and Petey’s food and water. She didn’t think there would be a spare table laying around anywhere, but she didn’t need that, anyway.

  A bed was enough. “Right, Petey?” she asked him. He was curled up under the covers and barely looked at her. She didn’t blame him, she could feel sleep nagging at her. She didn’t know how much she’d slept these past few days, but it never seemed to be enough.

  She got out of bed. Petey didn’t move, content where he was. As she made her way towards the kitchen, she stopped in the new storage room. They had done a fine job in getting everything in the room in a neat and organized manner.

  She flipped the light on and took the room in. There was the stack of her medical kits – except they weren’t where she left them. The rolling generator was moved, as well, stuffed back between the wall and hot water heater. Even the boxes of dried oatmeal had been shifted from the shelf at the front of the room to the back, up against some pipes.

  She went into the kitchen. “My help wasn’t good enough?”

  Dean looked up from his meal. He didn’t say anything.

  “Everything – literally everything – I put into the storage room, you moved. Why? I didn’t do everything ‘right’?” She dramatically put up air quotes. If he knew what they meant, he didn’t give any indication.

  “They weren’t in the right spots,” Dean said it simply, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

  “The right spots? The right spots?? The oatmeal was there for a reason. So we could get it easily in the morning, since that’s what our morning meal is going to consist of. Now, it�
��s all the way in the back. To get to it, I’m going to have to climb over the generator, which you also moved, every morning. The medical kits, which were out of the way, are now closer to the door than most of our food. It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “It makes sense to me!” Dean growled.

  “Well, it doesn’t make any sense to a normal person!” Gina yelled. After she said it, she immediately regretted it. She could tell that it stung Dean, even if he didn’t say anything. There had been no reason to blow up on him like that. Maybe isolation was taking its toll on her more than she thought.

  He got up out of his seat and tossed the meal pack down the garbage chute. He walked up close to her and said, “My bunker. My rules.”

  He went back to his room. Gina made herself a bowl of microwaved spaghetti, pilfered from her own pantry. She wouldn’t give in and eat any of Dean’s food. He might freak out that she’d shifted another can to the side, so she decided she would stick with her own food as long as she could.

  That man!

  After she had eaten and washed the dishes, she made her way back to her new room. She stopped at Dean’s room and peered in. He was lying in bed, for the first time that she had seen, with a book in his hand. For all of his brutishness, he had plenty of books to read.

  “I’m sorry, Dean. Goodnight.”

  He grunted at her. Gina rolled her eyes and went off to her room.

  *

  Gina awoke to another loud siren noise filling her head. The noise was similar to what she had heard in the hospital, yet it seemed louder than it had then. She sat up quickly, throwing the covers off of her. Where was she? Then she remembered that she was laying in her own bed, in her own room, in Dean’s bunker. Petey was jumping up and down at the side of the bed, barking loudly.

  The lights were flashing, going from their regular dim glow to a sickly, red color. What was going on? Was it another bombing?

  Soon she was stumbling out of the bed, disoriented, her heart pounding in her chest. Could this bunker survive a direct hit? Would they survive a direct hit? She didn’t think so.

  The hallway was exactly the same as her room: the siren was deafening and the lights were blinding. She stumbled down the hall, barely registering what was going on. Dean wasn’t in his room, so she ran towards the end of the hallway.

  The lights were off - if she could even tell in all the flashing, anyway - in the kitchen and bathroom. But she noticed the new generator/storeroom was lit up like a Christmas tree. What was he doing in there with the lights on? Especially now?

  As she neared the storeroom, she started to smell smoke. Smoke? Oh, no. She reached the doorway, feeling an intense wave of heat wash over her body: the storeroom was engulfed in flames. Boxes of food, medical supplies, all of her stuff that had been moved into the room, was going up in flames.

  “Dean!” Gina screamed, looking into the smoky room. Dean was on his knees, a fire extinguisher in his hands, spraying it everywhere, but to no avail. Wherever he aimed the extinguisher, the flames would die, but roar up again in another part of the room. “Dean!”

  He heard her the second time, the roar of the flames drowning out even the siren blare. “Under the sink!” Then he was turning back towards the blaze, doing his best to keep it at bay.

  Gina turned and ran as fast as she could on her injured leg. Dropping to her knees in front of the sink, she ripped open the cabinet and started rummaging inside of it, unsure of what she was even looking for. There, at the back: another fire extinguisher. She grabbed it and sprinted back to the storeroom, heedless of the pain.

  She started dousing the flames closest to Dean immediately, keeping him from being roasted alive. She could see that his skin was already burnt and his hair was smoking. Still, he was spraying the flames, trying to save as much food and supplies as he could.

  “Dean! Get back, it’s not worth it!” she screamed at him. He looked at her, his eyes wide with panic, as if he was weighing up the options here, but then he was retreating. She covered him with foam, knowing she shouldn’t but needing to douse the flames, and then she turned back towards the fire. He was gone from her side, then he was back, two more extinguishers in his hands.

  Gina wasn’t sure if they would be able to put the flames out, especially with how light her extinguisher was getting. When it was empty, she grabbed the other, and together, they worked on the flames until they were out. She wasn’t sure how long it had taken, but it was done, and they were alive.

  The same couldn’t be said for anything in the storeroom, however. All of the extra food, medical supplies, and tools were a ruined mass of black ash. That was the least of their worries, though. The spare generator was done for, the hot water heater was a melted chunk of metal, and all of the other boxes were ruined beyond repair. Dean dropped the extinguisher and slid down the wall, his hands over his eyes.

  He looked like he was crying. Gina found herself crouching next to him, grabbing his hand. He didn’t even acknowledge her. “Shit,” was all he said.

  “Dean, it’s okay,” she told him. She knew that was an outright lie. It wasn’t okay in the slightest. They’d lost probably 90 percent of their food and nearly all of their medical supplies, with the exception of what they still had in the bedroom from when they’d taken care of Gina’s gunshot wound. Most extra clothes were gone, as were the tools.

  But none of that mattered at all when compared to all of the vital systems that had been ruined. Gina didn’t know a lot about any of the mechanical workings of the bunker, but she knew enough to know that this place was probably close to useless now.

  “I shouldn’t have put everything in the same room,” he said. Gina squeezed his hand. It was a simple mistake. He couldn’t have predicted a fire would take out everything at once.

  “That’s the most you’ve said to me since you took me in,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. Dean looked up, his eyes wet, and he gave her a sad smile. It was something, at least.

  “Let’s get you to the kitchen,” Gina said, helping him up. He reluctantly let himself be pulled to his feet and lead down the hallway. Petey, for once, was silent and stayed out of their way. Once back in the kitchen, Gina lowered him into a chair. Dean deflated.

  She turned towards the kitchen and started surveying their stock. What had happened had shortened their supplies from three years to less than three months. Maybe not even that. Shit was right.

  “What do we do, Dean?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. Gina pulled a chair up next to him and grabbed his face in her hands. He looked absently at her face. “Dean. This is serious.”

  He didn’t answer. Without even thinking, she reached a hand back and brought it across his face, hard. She felt her hand sting at the impact and suddenly Dean was up, anger coloring his face. The chair was thrown back with ease. He grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her up, dropping her on the table. His golden eyes shone with fury.

  “This is all your fault!” he yelled. Gina’s mouth gaped open. What? How could he say that? “I should never have moved all of that stuff into the room to please you!”

  “Don’t try to put that on me!” she shot back. She knew he was angry, lashing out. But hearing him say it still hurt. “I had nothing to do with that!”

  Dean sat back in the chair heavily, resigned to his fate.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. The anger drained from his face as he thought. Gina hoped that it would fade away completely soon so he could focus on what they were going to do to survive.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Gina told him. She had to snap him out of this funk. “Dean. What are we going to do?”

  “I… don’t know.”