by M. K. Dawn
Archer had a hell of a poker face not from playing the game, but from intense psychological training. As a Ranger, he had to be able to handle any situation put before him—physical or mental. “I wish I was. If you had arrived on time you would’ve taken the larger planes like all the other attendees and would have been shuttled to The Bunker, but since you were late…”
“I’m not jumping out of a plane.”
“Obviously.”
Sloan exhaled.
Archer didn’t let up. “It will be a tandem jump, you strapped to me, as you aren’t an experienced skydiver.”
“If this is some kind of joke—”
“Private Jones.”
The young soldier jumped to attention. “Sir, yes sir.”
“All parachutes ready?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“And our current ETA?” Archer asked.
Jones’ eyes flickered to Sloan.
Archer respected the man’s integrity. “It’s okay, soldier. I’ll authorize the exchange.”
“ETA t-minus fifteen minutes.”
Archer rose and slapped his hands together. “Thank you, Private. Guess that means we need to get our gear on.” He crossed the plane and leaned into Sloan. “Going to have to take your harness off.”
She shook her head. “I’m not jumping out of this plane. I’ll return to Fort Hood.”
He clicked her top chest harness loose. “Sorry, Slash. Not going to happen. I have orders to escort you to The Bunker.”
“Please,” she begged as if she’d never begged a day in her life. “I can’t do this.”
“Because you’re afraid to fly?”
“No, because I’m terrified of heights. It’s illogical and childish, but—”
Archer reattached Sloan’s harness.
Sloan dropped her hands to her sides. “You’ll allow me to return to Fort Hood?”
“Sorry, Slash. Can’t do that. But, like the private said, we’ll be arriving in less than fifteen minutes.”
A hint of understanding flickered in Sloan’s eyes. “You lied.”
Archer took his seat and strapped in. “It was a joke.”
“Jokes are intended to be funny, entertain people.”
The soldiers had grown quiet over the past few minutes, undoubtedly listening in to his and Sloan’s discussion. “The men were entertained, weren’t you, fellas?”
None came to his defense.
“You scared me,” Sloan whispered. “You unearthed a weakness of mine and used it as a butt of your joke.”
A twinge of guilt wormed its way deep within Archer’s subconscious. It wasn’t an emotion he was accustomed to. “That was never my intention. It’s a prank we use on new recruits. A rite of passage. I thought—”
“Did you think? Do you ever think when you open your mouth? You’ve been trained to read people, have you not?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “You knew I was experiencing anxiety and instead of attempting to ease my fears you manipulated them for your own amusement.”
“Slash—”
“Stop calling me that,” she snapped.
The caption’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker: “We are making our final approach and will be on the ground shortly. Strap in, this bitch has one hell of a kick when it hits the ground.”
***
Sloan stormed off the plane without a single glance in Archer’s direction. Sure she had good reason to be angry with him, but to talk to him the way she did and in front of his men? That was unacceptable. He had half a mind to deny her access and make her sit out in the hot desert heat and bake for a while.
Instead he took the more mature approach and sent Private Jones after her as she seemed less pissed at him. Then he strolled as slow as humanly possible to the entrance where they waited alongside a handful of other soldiers.
Built into the side of a mountain, the main entrance was a twelve-inch-thick blast resistant, concrete filled steel door that spanned twelve feet wide by twelve feet tall. It reminded Archer of the door that led to Jabba the Hutt’s Palace in Return of the Jedi. The engineering it took to open the monstrosity was beyond Archer’s realm of comprehension.
The Bunker itself was an underground city designed to house a small portion of the population in the off chance they were faced with an apocalyptic scenario. Archer estimated several billions of tax dollars had gone into creating the damn thing and the majority of the population would never be aware of its existence.
This weekend was a test-run of sorts and served several purposes from testing the livability to working with the brightest minds of the country to find out what The Bunker lacked.
When he finally arrived, much to the annoyance of Dr. Egan, the four soldiers on duty saluted. His roommate and Army Ranger buddy Major Cale Cifarelli added to his salute a low snicker.
“At ease, soldiers. Has our guest filled out a non-disclosure agreement?”
Cale, whose responsibility it was to grant or deny access into The Bunker, handed him a clipboard. “Yes, sir. Dr. Egan has completed the forms required to enter the facility.”
Archer flipped through each of the three forms to ensure all were completed as directed. “And her background check has come back clean? It would be a shame for the good doctor to come all this way and be denied entry due to a prior indiscretion considering the last plane back to Fort Hood is preparing for take-off.”
The soldiers glanced at one another except for Cale, who knew Archer all too well. The rest saw him as a no-nonsense son of a bitch. There were few he allowed to see his fun-loving side—the jokester half his father tried to beat out of him as a child—so for him to screw with Sloan in such a blatant way in front of these men he commanded was out of character. It was no wonder why they appeared perplexed. That and all the attendees had an extensive background check completed before the invitations were sent out. However, the attendees were not made aware of this for reasons Archer was not privy to.
“Sir?” Captain Martinez questioned; he was second in command at the entrance.
“Dr. Egan’s background check. It came back clean?”
“This is ridiculous. I have nothing out of sort on my record,” Sloan said matter-of-factly. “In any case, I was not aware that a background check was to be performed. That seems a bit unorthodox for an informal weekend retreat.”
“You are to be granted access to a top-secret facility,” Archer bit back. “For someone who has nothing to hide, you sure are touchy on the subject.”
To the utter dismay of the other soldiers, Cale laughed.
“I don’t believe I have displayed any signs of hypersensitivity,” Sloan argued. “My only objection was not being made aware of the background check.”
“I don’t know.” Archer snapped his fingers at the soldier—Corporal Smith—to hand him her tablet. “I think I should review your background check one last time.”
“Major Archer,” Martinez stepped between him and the tablet, “I can assure you, Dr. Egan had been cleared to enter this facility prior to her arrival.”
“You would stake your career on this statement, Captain?”
“Ye-yes, sir.” Martinez’s eyes flickered to Sloan then to Cale, who laughed once again.
Archer slapped the soldier on the back. “Say it with some conviction, man. If the woman is cleared to enter The Bunker, who am I or anyone else to say otherwise?”
Corporal Smith handed Archer the tablet and he proceeded to sign his name on the access form.
“Thank you, Major,” Corporal Smith said as she took back the tablet. “Please, can everyone take a few steps back?”
Archer ushered Sloan a good ten steps backward. She narrowed her eyes. “A precautionary measure. I assure you, Slash, The Bunker is safe.”
“Why is it that your assurances do nothing to ease my concerns?”
The gears of the door whined and groaned, putting an end to their conversation. Archer gawked, still astonished by the damn thing that seemed to open with as little
effort as an electric garage door.
“Dr. Egan,” Corporal Smith said, “your right wrist, please.” Sloan lifted her arm and allowed Smith to attach the black wristband. “This is your key, ma’am. It will grant you access to all areas of The Bunker you’ve been given permission to enter. This button here,” she pointed to the top of the two, “is for communication—a phone of sorts—which enables you to contact anyone in The Bunker.”
Archer grabbed Sloan’s wrist and held down the top button. “Archer comma Lee. Serial numbers one-four-seven-nine.”
“Lee Archer, added,” the wristband recited.
“What was that for?” Sloan asked.
“Speed dial,” Archer retorted.
Corporal Smith ignored their banter and continued. “The bottom button, when pushed, will show your daily schedule which will include your tour times and location and chow time.”
“Chow time means dining time,” Archer added.
“I know what it means,” Sloan snapped.
Smith cleared her throat. “If you ever get lost while in The Bunker—”
Sloan’s head jerked towards Corporal Smith. “What do you mean by lost?”
“Well, Slash,” Archer said, “The Bunker is a complicated system of integrated tunnels and chambers. The number of levels alone…well, there are more than I am permitted to disclose.”
“If you get turned around,” Smith continued, “you can touch your wristband to a map while on the schedule mode and it will provide directions to your destination.”
“Are these maps readily available?” Sloan asked.
Archer smirked and allowed Smith to answer. “Yes, ma’am. There are a multitude on every floor. One in every elevator.”
“All of this information was covered this morning in orientation,” Archer added.
Sloan pretended to ignore Archer’s jab. Or at least he thought she was pretending. It was hard to tell.
“Thank you, Corporal Smith, for the recap of the information I missed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The soldier nodded.
“Major, we’re ready,” Martinez said
“Thank you, Captain.” Archer grabbed Sloan by the elbow and dragged her inside.
“This isn’t necessary.” Sloan slid her arm out of his grasp. “I had no intention of not entering the facility.”
“Elevators.” Archer held her hand and scanned her wrist on the panel. “You’ll take three. It will take you to the hallway where your room is located and nowhere else until you’ve scanned your door and entered. Once inside, there will be another panel just like this one where you will check in. Once checked in, your itinerary will be uploaded to your wristband. Would you like Private Jones to accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Private Jones stepped forward and handed Sloan her lone suitcase. “Ma’am.”
Sloan smiled. “Thank you.”
“There will be a dinner followed by a meet and greet later this evening. Dress is casual.” Archer peered back at the soldiers who awaited his command. “Is there anything else you need from me, doctor?”
“No, thank you, Major.”
“Well, enjoy your weekend and welcome to The Bunker.”
***
Once the elevator doors were closed, Archer turned his attention back to his waiting men. “Update.”
Cale scrolled through his tablet. “All attendees who were sent an invitation have checked in—a total of fifteen-hundred. Three hundred military. VIP personnel and execs make up two hundred. Brings the total to two-thousand on the dot.”
Archer clicked his tongue. “What’s the max occupancy?”
“The number varies,” Cale explained. “Two-thousand is ideal if The Bunker were to be used for an extended period—say ten, twenty plus years. But for a short period—six months to a year—maybe upward to ten-thousand.”
“Those numbers seem off.” Archer gestured for the tablet. When this retreat was in the planning stage, he could have sworn the invitation list spanned closer to the ten-thousand range. “I thought the idea of this exercise was to test this fallout shelter under the most extreme circumstances.”
The soldiers looked amongst each other. Cale was the only one to speak up. “I believe that information is above our pay grade, sir. I received the finalized list just shy of a week ago. It was severely cut compared to the initial list I was given.”
Archer handed back the tablet. “Were you told who authorized these cuts?”
He didn’t hesitate. “General Scott Davis.”
That didn’t surprise Archer in the least. The man was known for his quick temper and mercurial nature. He often reassessed and revised operations at the last minute, ignoring the counsel of his most trusted advisors. “Thank you, Major. Seems we are ready to begin lockdown.”
“Yes, sir.” Cale unhooked the small phone which only connected to the control room. “Major Cifarelli here. Major Archer has authorized lockdown.”
Archer snatched the phone. “Please confirm the head count.”
“Two-thousand souls,” the direction of operations, Steven Wu, said.
“With the head count confirmed, we are now ready to begin lockdown,” Archer said.
The massive door whined and inched downward. Once closed, Archer got back on the phone. “Door secure. Ready to lock her up.”
“Confirmed,” Wu stated. “Initiating lockdown in five, four, three, two, one.” The massive deadbolt boomed. “Lockdown complete.”
Archer glanced at Cale, who was now in the small control room. His buddy gave him a thumbs up.
“Confirmed. Thank you, everyone.” Archer headed for the elevators. “Keep a close eye out and log any discrepancies.” He swiped his wristband. “But also try to enjoy yourselves. Join a few tours. You all have earned it.”
The elevator doors shut and Archer was whisked away to his next destination: a meeting with the big wigs to go over the weekend’s agenda. Unlike his men, who would each only have to work four-hour shifts over the course of the retreat, he was on-call twenty-four-seven—not that he wouldn’t find time to enjoy himself. He might even get dressed up and have a few beers at the cocktail party. Celebrate the success of The Bunker’s trial run.
He reached the thirteenth floor, which housed operations, just shy of thirty minutes late for the meeting. His tardiness wouldn’t matter much; he was only there as a formality, a representative of the armed forces who ran a portion of The Bunker, like security and the behind the scenes stuff—food, laundry, maintenance.
Two armed soldiers stood guard outside the conference room. Archer didn’t know either of them, which was odd, considering he oversaw all military personnel. “Major Lee Archer. I’m supposed to be in there.”
“You’re late, Major,” one said as the other opened the door and announced his presence.
Archer peered around the man who held the door only wide enough for his head to poke through. On a large screen at the back of the room, footage played which looked eerily familiar to what had been on the TV when he retrieved Sloan. Before he had a chance to study the images in more detail, the screen went black.
“Come in, Major,” a familiar voice beckoned. General Scott Davis, with his graying hair and prominent features, stood at the head of the room. He towered over the others—generals and high ranking officers from every branch of the military—who sat around the rectangular table. Archer had never heard of such a gathering. “Glad you could join us.”
“My apologies, sir. The final flight from Fort Hood was delayed by the final attendee.”
“Ah yes. I’d heard the renowned Dr. Egan was not as eager to join us as the rest of the invites.”
Archer paused to consider the best response without incriminating Sloan. “A miscommunication. I assure you Dr. Egan is more than happy to be here.”
“I’m sure. Now, Major, as you might have noticed, you’ve come into this meeting quite late. All non-essential persons such as yourself have already been given their re
port and been dismissed.”
“Again, I apologize.”
“So, is there is anything you wish to report?” General Davis sneered.
“As I represent the military’s involvement with The Bunker…” He cleared his throat. Even as he said those words, the presence in this room told him that was no longer the case. “I’m to report that the entrance has been secured, all occupants have been accounted for, and the trial run of The Bunker has commenced.”
“Very well. All news we received from Steven Wu.” General Davis turned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. “If you have nothing else, you are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Archer did an about face and headed for the door.
“Please keep your communication active, Major. We may call on you if the time comes when further military assistance is needed.”
CHAPTER THREE
The elevator descended at such a rapid pace Sloan had to grab the rail to keep her balance. When it stopped on level six, the door opened to a hallway that mirrored that of a hotel, if said hotel’s walls were made up of rocks.
Sloan confirmed her room number and halfway down the hall found room thirty-five, scanned her wristband, and let herself in. The room was larger than she expected; a small living area to her left and a combo breakfast nook and kitchen—minus a stove—in front of her. There were no decorations to speak of on the cavern walls and all the furniture was the same wood color.
“The room is a little too outdoorsy if you ask me.”
Sloan startled. A tiny young woman no more than five-foot-tall with rich coco skin and a pixie haircut stepped out of an adjoining room.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. Gauging your reaction, I’d bet you were unaware each of us was assigned a roommate?”
“I was not aware. I assume this information was provided during orientation this morning,” Sloan said.
“It was, among a slew of other important things. You must be the infamous Dr. Sloan Egan. You were the talk of orientation. The advisors were in a rush to find you; the medical professionals were anxious to meet you. All the others were confused as to what the hell was going on.” The woman strolled forward and extended a hand. “I’m Evelyn Williams.”
