by Brad Knight
“What in the world?” he said as he turned it over and looked at it closely.
“What do you think it is, dad?” Cordelia asked him.
“I have no idea, but we had better put it away and not mess with it. If it’s dangerous, we don’t want to accidentally set it off or something.” Troy placed the object inside the drawer of the desk that he had put in the corner of the living room.
Brandon woke up from his nap and came downstairs. As he sat down on the couch his mother brushed back the hair from his eyes.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked him. She put her hand up to his forehead. He was blazing hot.
“Not too good,” he said.
“Here, you need to start taking these right away.” She handed him a glass of water and one of the antibiotics. He immediately took it and then lay back down on the couch.
“I really hope you don’t have to venture out again anytime soon,” Mary said as she went back over to her husband and dressed the last of his cuts.
“Me too. We should have enough food and water to last us a couple more months now, so I don’t think we will have to,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s the oxygen that I’m concerned about now.”
“How much more do you think we have left?” she asked him apprehensively.
“Maybe enough for two more months, tops. Well before that, we will have to obtain more of it.”
“Oh no, you’re not thinking of returning to that hospital again, are you?”
“Well, I already know that they are running low on their supply, so I doubt that they will have enough left to do us any good. Besides, if we return there it will be like returning to a shoot out at the OK Corral. Next time, we try a different town,” he said.
Chapter 11
Early the next morning as the family sat down to breakfast, an obnoxious, repetitive jingling sound filled the bunker. Troy looked up in confusion. It did not sound like the intruder alarm. That one was a loud, jarring buzz. This was an incessant bell-like sound, similar to a telephone someone refuses to answer.
“What the hell is that noise,” said Cordelia, wrinkling her nose and jamming fingers into both her ears.
Fear settled in the pit of her stomach as she realized what was making that sound. A flashing light caught her eye, shining through the gaps in the desk drawer. The metallic disc she had dislodged from the blackberry bush was lighting up rhythmically as it sounded what was evidently an alarm. She hoped to God it was not about to detonate and maim her entire family. She wished she had left the thing where it lay in the tangle of brambles. Mary walked over and opened the desk drawer, plucking out the little jingling object.
“Mom! No!” Cordelia yelled.
Mary jumped slightly, startled by her daughter. In her shock, the disc slid from her fingers back onto the kitchen floor where its two halves split open and the dissonant jingling stopped. Cordelia wanted to feel relief but was still extremely on edge and continued to eye the device with distrust. Mary took a step back just as a calm, female voice began to speak from the object.
“Carbon Monoxide levels approaching 19 ppm, safe. Radiation approaching hazardous levels, mild risk. Repeat, Carbon Monoxide levels approaching 19 ppm, safe…”
Troy and Mary exchanged a bewildered glance and Cordelia jumped up from her chair.
“I had no idea what it was or what it would do, honest,” she said.
“It’s okay, honey. But please tell me before you bring anything into the shelter. That could have been dangerous. It might have been a weapon we’d never seen before. The world is very strange right now, you know that. Just be careful,” Troy said as he walked over to examine the object in question.
After repeating itself three times, the device fell silent and now looked like simply an innocuous piece of discarded metal. Even so, Troy hesitated to pick it up. As his hand reached toward it, its halves slid smoothly back together and clicked shut. Troy held the circle between his thumb and forefinger and examined it from every angle, tilting his head this way and that.
“Um, am I the only one who paid attention to what that thing just said? Carbon monoxide and radiation? Those are both bad news,” Brandon said from his seat at the dinner table. Hannah shot him a nervous look and nodded.
“I heard it. It said we’re at mild risk, whatever that means. I thought this place was uncontaminated, like air-tight. Did I bring something in with me when you took me in? Oh, God, if I did…” Hannah’s voice trailed off and she looked at the floor.
Troy spoke up first. “No, Hannah, it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry.”
He laid the device now in the palm of his hand and jostled it about a bit, still not entirely trusting it to not explode in his face. Nothing happened so he brought it into the kitchen and placed it carefully on the edge of a wall shelf. Nothing else interrupted breakfast.
Later that evening, Hannah and Cordelia sat on the bed talking like old friends. In quarters as close as the bunker their friendship felt like a gift to Cordelia. It gave her someone to talk to besides her irritating brother, and another female presence besides her mom was nice.
“I just miss him so much. I swear, I somehow knew when we came in here that I was never going to see him again. I was so mad at my dad the day we locked ourselves up in here,” Cordelia said.
Hannah was lying crossways on the bed, her long lean legs stretched out and half dangling off the edge. Brandon, lying on the opposite bed and listening to his headphones at a reasonable volume for once, tried to not stare too obviously. He allowed himself a glance every now and then, trying to be casual. Like Hannah just happened to be in his line of sight. He was beginning to think he was not gay at all as he glanced between the beautiful Hannah and the heavily photoshopped faces of The Backstreet Boys on his wall.
His fever had broken sometimes around seven and he felt much better. A deep furrow ran for about two inches across his arm but the skin around it looked healthy and no other signs of infection were evident. He hoped for the millionth time that they survived this disaster. But this time he hoped so hard because he wanted the joy of saying, “I survived the apocalypse and a gunshot.” Brandon had no clear idea to whom he would tell this tale, since his friends were few and far between and now likely even dead, but it made him smile nonetheless.
“Have you ever seen a person die right in front of you?” Cordelia asked Hannah.
“Just my dad,” she answered softly. One tear fell from each eye before she took a deep breath and met Cordelia’s stare.
“Right, I’m stupid. I forgot he got shot. I’m really sorry you had to see that. It’s awful. I watched Henry’s skin actually melt off his body. He looked like he was on fire.”
Hannah nodded in sympathy. Before being brought to the bunker, she and her dad had seen their share of those melted candle horror-show bodies. Mostly people she had not known, but the few acquaintances they had encountered haunted her memories. She was impressed with how well Cordelia handled Henry’s death but knew that beneath the surface this girl was truly in pain. She sat up and gave Cordelia a brief but genuine hug. Cordelia wiped away the tears pooled beneath her eyes and smiled gratefully at Hannah.
“Thanks.”
Just then, at exactly nine pm, the ringing sound began again. Cordelia stopped talking and took off down the stairs, Hannah and Brandon on her heels. Everyone in the bunker converged on the small kitchen shelf where Troy had left the silver disc. Five sets of eyes barely blinked as they watched the crack in the disc’s face slide apart and begin to speak again.
“Carbon Monoxide levels approaching 25 ppm, mild risk. Radiation approaching hazardous levels, mild risk. Repeat, Carbon Monoxide levels approaching 25 ppm, mild risk…,”
“Wait, that’s different than it was before. Earlier she said Carbon Monoxide levels were safe. It’s scanning the bunker and keeping track of the air quality.” Troy looked at his watch. “It must automatically do a scan every twelve hours. It was nine this morning when it did its last report
.”
Troy got lost in thought for a moment, thinking of reasons why the air filtration system might not be working properly. It was possible that there was just too much debris to filter and that it had become clogged. He and Brandon would have to venture outside to find the problem.
Luckily the rain that fell on the scorched earth now was almost acid-free. Some toxins still remained but it was now possible to walk outside without the flesh dissolving from your bones. At least that’s what the news report told them.
After the initial shock of being spoken to by a tiny metal object, the family had settled in front of the TV last night. Despite the collapse of civilization as it was once known, the media machine kept chugging along. News reporters were beginning to venture back out into the field and for the most part, the news anchors had maintained their sense of propriety and calm. Their hair even still looked amazing.
As for the radiation, Troy was at a loss but felt worry gnawing at him as he looked helplessly around at his little family. He had even less of an idea what to do about the bands of rioters and looters that still roamed the streets and threatened the town’s security.
The device shut off and the bunker was quiet.
***
“Go find me a long, thick branch, please son,” Troy said as he removed the cover of the air return on the outside of the filtration system. Brandon did as he was told, enjoying being in the open air.
The morning air was still cold, and little ice crystals clung to the pine needles above his head but with no true sunlight to illuminate them they just sat like unpolished silver, dull and damp. Brandon grabbed a low-hanging branch and pulled on it to test its strength. Loose pellets of ice rained over his head and to the ground as he did this and he was reminded of winters past. He wondered if they would ever have seasons again like before.
Holding onto one end of the branch, he began sawing with his other hand until it broke free from the trunk. Stripping needles and pine cones as he walked, he delivered the branch to his dad.
Troy wrapped a spare shirt he had brought with him for this purpose around the tree branch after hefting it in his hands to test the strength - like father, like son. He gently poked the branch inside the air intake tube of the filtration system and swabbed out the inside with his makeshift scrubber. This was a delicate process as the inside of the tube consisted of filters made of thin, mesh material and Troy could not risk puncturing one of those filters.
Even though the air outside was becoming less toxic by the day, a grey sheet of debris still blotted out the sun, letting through only a weak, half-light over the world’s surface.
On the news last night some brave soul had stood outside and piloted a drone through that ominous cloud. At one point the camera only showed darkness. The center of the smog cloud held only darkness.
So Troy kept swabbing and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in to spare his family the horrors that were still likely to come.
Chapter 12
Troy opened the door to the bunker as quietly as he could. This was a challenge with three locks, one of which had tumblers the size of popsicle sticks, but he made it outside without waking anyone.
He had timed this excursion just right. Nine a.m. on the nose. He set the disc on the frosty ground, wrapping his long arms around himself to hold in what little warmth he could. Despite a well-stocked bunker, Troy had grown thin since this catastrophe began.
Rationing took a toll on a person and Troy always made sure everyone had plenty, often to the detriment of himself. So he tightened his belt notch and carried on with life. The wind cut through him like an icy sword and pelted his mask with dirt and tiny pebbles.
The disc began its speech. It reported lower carbon monoxide and radiation levels outside the bunker. This had been Troy’s fear. It seemed their sanctuary was quickly becoming their sarcophagus. He picked up the disc and examined its surface once again, looking for a button or a switch which would force it to perform its scan on demand. Once again he found none. It slid shut silently then lay inert in his hand. He would have to wait a full twelve hours to re-scan the bunker to see if his meticulous cleaning of the filtration system had helped.
In his preoccupation with air quality, Troy did not hear the crunch of approaching footsteps until the man was upon him. The man was grimy with his full beard filthy and a frozen dribble of snot beneath his nose. His hands and face bore ulcerated spots presumably caused by acid rain. Muscle and sinew were visible beneath some of the spots and looking at them made Troy want to vomit. The man held a small pistol trained at Troy’s midsection and did not speak for a full minute, only stared while his hand shook around the pistol grip.
“You’re gonna take me in that bunker. I haven’t eaten in seven days. I know you have food,” the man said in a shaky voice. Troy backed away with his hands palm out in front of his body. The man’s mouth hung slack as he peered into Troy’s face, waiting for him to follow this demand. He took a step toward Troy and raised the gun to head level. Troy took a sharp breath in and said, “What’s your name, man?”
The man narrowed his eyes at Troy, wiping his free hand across his dirty face. Troy noticed a smear of blood on the man’s check, left behind after his gesture peeled a particularly gruesome scab. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
“My name is Caleb. I am sorry to have to do this but I am going to die if I don’t get some food and medical attention. I assume you have both of these things inside your little building there.”
“I can’t let you in, Caleb.”
“Yes you can. Let’s just start walking over to the door, you turn that little lock and in we go. Sounds easy to me. You may not believe me, but I will shoot you over this.”
“Listen, I cannot take you in. There’s no room. But I will bring you out some food and water, okay?”
Without any verbal response, Caleb lost control then and fired a shot at Troy’s feet. The shot missed Troy’s toes by only centimeters. Dirt clods and grass leapt up then rained back down as Troy attempted to run away. Outside the bunker, the fight began in earnest. Inside the bunker, four frightened people huddled around the periscope lens and tried to make sense of the sounds from outside.
Troy took a lurching step towards the bunker just as Caleb launched himself at Troy’s feet. He hooked one mangled hand around Troy’s ankle and pulled with astonishing strength. Twisting his other foot awkwardly, Troy managed to stomp the disgusting hand and loosen its grip enough to take another step. But Caleb gave the toe of his boot a firm yank and Troy collapsed to the cold ground with a whoosh of air.
Troy had just enough time to flip quickly to his back but he was still completely vulnerable. He cursed his own stupidity for walking outside without a weapon. He was in his own backyard and hadn’t planned to be outside longer than a few minutes, just long enough to compare the radiation levels indoors and out. He vehemently wished for a gun to pull from his waistband but none was there. Caleb had regained his own feet by that time and stood over Troy with the gun once again pointed directly at his skull.
“You will be taking me inside now. I will eat a meal, take a shower, and then I’ll be on my way. You have my word,” Caleb said in an even voice, slightly breathless from adrenaline but once again mostly in control. He even reached out a hand to help Troy to his feet. Troy declined but stood up on his own.
“The gun stays outside. My family is in there and I’ll die out here with you before I let a stranger with a gun in our home.”
“Once that door is open, I will leave the gun right outside. Deal. I’m not here to hurt you or your family. I’m just trying to stay alive.” With Caleb’s empty hand wrapped around Troy’s wrist in an iron grip for security, the two men covered the remaining distance to the bunker door.
Troy heard two distinct squeals from inside the bunker when the combination lock clicked open but he couldn’t tell which women made the sounds. The gun pressing now into the small of his back kept him from making any rash moves. Troy was not
going to be the hero today. As he inserted the key into the deadbolt, the bunker door opened from inside and he was met with Mary’s face as the door swung inward.
“Come in, both of you please,” Mary said, stepping back and allowing Caleb his first view of the bunker. “Too many people have already died, please don’t hurt my husband. We will help you. We don’t want you to die in our yard either.” Caleb’s eyes darted from Troy to Mary and the he craned his head to see as far into the bunker as possible.
“Thank you,” Caleb said and this was all he could manage for the tears welling up in his eyes and clogging his throat.
Inviting as she was, Mary was reluctant to touch any part of Caleb’s stinking body. She turned and walked further inside and prayed with all her might that the two men followed without incident. An air of unease followed Caleb and Troy into the tight confines of the bunker, but the stranger was true to his word and laid his firearm down at the entrance before shutting the outer door firmly.
“The shower is upstairs. All of our towels are damp at the moment but they’re hanging on the rack up there, just pick one. I will heat up some food for you when you get out. I would feed you first but Lord knows what you’ve picked up out there. Please go get clean.” Mary spoke to Caleb using a tone similar to the one she used to speak to her own children. “I will also give you some medicine for those wounds.”
Troy thought to protest that Brandon wasn’t completely well yet and that they should keep every ounce of medicine they had. Instead he silently berated himself for putting his family in this situation at all. It was completely his fault and he therefore had no right to voice this opinion.
He glanced at Brandon, whose healthy color had returned, and said nothing. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and nodded when Caleb looked at him, seemingly for permission to go upstairs. Everyone watched as Caleb ascended the stairs and let out a collective sigh once he was out of sight.
“Oh, Troy. Are you okay, honey?” Mary asked.
