by James Sperl
Oliver drove the next half-mile virtually bump free. He steered the bus along the gravel road, the tiny rocks crunching beneath the tires until it dead-ended into a circular patch of barren forestland. A single, small tool shed lie on the fringe of the cleared area. And nothing else.
“We’re here,” Catherine said.
Necks craned, heads turned and eyes searched through the windows of the bus. Catherine could read the looks of bewilderment on everyone’s faces and knew some sort of explanation was desired to sate the collective curiosity. But in two short minutes, she thought, everything would speak for itself.
Catherine hopped off the bus and strode over to the tool shed, instantly setting to work on a combination lock that secured the door to the structure. A couple of quick spins of the dial and it was open. Working the padlock free, Catherine pulled the door ajar and extracted a janitorial push broom from inside.
She gave the onlookers from the bus a passing glance as they exited, gathering in a curious bunch in front of the bug-spattered grill. Catherine walked determinedly toward an unassuming patch of red elderberry shrub and set the broom down in front of it. A towering alder sprouted from behind the dense concentration of elderberry, miscellaneous strobiles scattered under the tree’s canopy.
Catherine hiked through calf high wild grass and snaked her way around to the backside of the tree.
The group could only watch in a clueless silence, waiting with bated breath at the next surprise Catherine would unveil. Then, as if on cue, the elderberry shrub suddenly parted. Branches bowed backward on either side, separating the bush as if a giant comb had been run right down the middle, slicking the branches off to each side.
On the backside of the tree Catherine pushed with her foot on the trunk, yanking on a pair of ropes that wrapped around it on both sides. Guided through an industrial sized, stainless steel eyelet, which was mounted into the ground, Catherine tied the rope off onto a steel cleat that had been installed at the tree’s base.
Janet leaned over to Josh as she eyed the ever-widening elderberry bush. “You got one strange family, kid.”
“Tell me about it,” he said as he watched his mother circumnavigate the splayed shrub and pick up the broom.
“Josh,” Catherine called, “Can you give me a hand?”
Josh screwed his face in confusion as he walked toward his mother. Catherine, broom in hand, began vigorously sweeping the dirt patch in the now exposed area below the elderberry. Dust, leaves and broken branches piled up at the base of the tree, Catherine taking broad strokes with the broom.
And then Josh saw it. A metal surface. And with each subsequent pass of the broom more and more was revealed until he could make out a distinct rectangular shape in the ground.
A door.
Catherine swept even faster now, adrenaline kicking in, her need to open the door overpowering her. She dropped the broom and fell to her knees. With her hands, she began swiping dirt in wide arcs until she uncovered a strip of duct tape stuck to the surface. Clearing the area of dust and dirt with several hearty blows, Catherine ripped the tape free.
A gleaming chrome lock lay underneath.
Catherine fished in her pocket for the round key. Retrieving it, she held it up for Janet to see and accompanied this with a reserved smile. Aligning the key into the circular slot, Catherine twisted counter-clockwise. A prominent click sounded, as if a sizable bolt had been released. Catherine dug out the collapsible handle to the door from an inset where it fit snugly, then pulled upward.
The door swung on a pair of concealed hinges, the weight too much for Catherine to bear. Josh rushed to her aid and pushed the heavy door in a laborious arc until it came to rest against the alder. Needing no instruction, Josh moved to the other half of the door, clamped his hands along the cold steel edge and hauled it up and open. He let the metal hatch fall with a thunderous whump, a cloud of dust kicking up as it met the ground.
“Whoa,” Josh said as he stared in at the opening. Catherine had already descended the first four steps, her body halfway into the cavity. She stopped suddenly.
“You coming?” she said to the group, jarring them from their trance-like state.
Catherine reached the bottom of the stairs and approached a solid steel door. Josh followed eagerly behind her, his sense of discovery and wonder, Catherine felt, thankfully replacing any misgivings he may have had at being deceived. And for this she was relieved.
Group eleven pattered down the stairs, their steps echoing in uneven cadences, the shadow from their mass blocking the limited light entering the stairwell.
Turning her attention to a battery-powered numeric keypad affixed to the door, Catherine tapped a six-digit code. Another, more sizable clang rang out, its sound reverberating briefly in the darkened space. She grabbed hold of a fixed handle and pulled the thick and heavy door outward.
Catherine reached into the blackness just beyond the opening and withdrew a flashlight. Popping the light on, she approached a second door, structured not unlike the first, it’s metallic sheen glistening as the light approached. Finding another keypad, Catherine again punched a series of numbers. Another clang and she was pushing on the door, it swinging inward with a faint groan.
An antiseptic smell wafted through the doorway. Odors of foodstuffs and plastic. The hint of fuel.
“Everyone wait here,” Catherine said. She entered the room, immediately disappearing around the right wall. Faint hints of structures and space reflected dim light, gave some inkling of depth and layout.
Suddenly, lights began to flicker. One by one, bulbs popped to life, electricity finding them in rapid succession as the room illuminated.
A chorus of stunned ooohs and ahhhs sounded among the group.
“Holy shit,” Josh said, his jaw hanging loosely on his face.
“You can say that again,” Janet said as she took an unconscious step forward in utter amazement. She glanced quickly at the area lying between the doors and discovered a showerhead, scrub brushes and cleansers.
The group filed in, their heads turning actively in all directions, trying to take in the breadth of everything they were seeing.
Before everyone laid an elaborately designed and executed shelter, the size of which completely belied the small and utilitarian stairwell that led to it. The room could more easily and accurately be described as a small warehouse made suitable to live. Floor to ceiling shelves filled an entire twenty-foot length of wall. Occupying the spaces were copious amounts of canned goods, sizable bins filled with beans and pastas, flour, oats and sugar, MREs and dehydrated meats and vegetables. Palettes of bottled and canned juices wrapped in sheet plastic were stacked to the gills along one end of the shelves. An enormous storage tank—much like the ones used to store propane—was situated at the other end of the shelves, the letters “H2O” stenciled to the side in black paint.
A small alcove served as the medical area. More shelves here, stocked with painkillers of every variety, antibiotics, bandages, cold and flu medication, acid reducers and nausea aids, IV units, potassium iodide. Gas masks were sealed in a glass case. Below them on a sturdy shelf, a dose rate meter. There was even a defibrillator kit mounted to the wall above a basic, but suitable, heart monitor.
Across the room were a series of five cots arranged bunk bed style in the middle of the floor. The bedrolls for all lay atop each bed frame, placed uniformly in the center.
Janet shuffled over to a tiny, makeshift kitchen area complete with a small, but adequate oak counter, washbasin and propane range. Smaller shelves lined the space above the preparation area, their once vacant surfaces now filled with metal plates and cups, silverware, a spare selection of pots and pans. The bottommost shelf was packed with bulk spices, oils and vinegars.
Catherine emerged from one of two doors located alongside one another. She shut the door quietly then just stood facing the room, watched as everyone meandered among the shelter, incredulous.
Janet sauntered over to Catherine and
stood beside her. Together they watched Madeline and Shelby inspect the food shelves. Saw Oliver express interest in the hand pump that fed the humongous water tank. Cracked smiles as Tamara played kitchen with Abby.
“I gotta hand it to you, Catherine,” Janet began, “This is...”
“Extreme?” Catherine finished. “Excessive? Fortunate? If you chose any of those words I’d be inclined to agree with you. I might even add embarrassing and undeserving into the mix.”
Janet’s eyes darted toward Catherine at this, but maintained her position facing forward. “I don’t even know where to begin,” Janet said with an unintentional chortle. “For starters, how do you even have elec—”
“Hey, Catherine,” Oliver said, his voice sounding from across the room. “Is this full?” Oliver tapped the H2O tank with his knuckles.
“Yes, it is,” she replied.
“What’s this thing here?” Josh queried, standing in front of two cylindrical tanks mounted to the back wall. A series of pipes and wiring protruded from the top and bottom of each.
“It’s an oxy—”
“Mommy what kind of juice is this?” Tamara asked, standing alongside the palette of bottles and cans, which dwarfed her.
“There are all kinds, honey.”
Catherine knew there would be questions and interrogations. Knew there was a world of wonder in the room with which most people were unfamiliar. And had she not been the wife of Warren Hayesly, employee of the God-only-knew division of the Air Force, she could have safely included herself in this group as well. She could have remained blissfully unaware of what a roentgen was and how many of them she and her children could endure on a daily basis without suffering radiation sickness. Or remained ignorant as to what potassium iodide did and how to use a dose rate meter. Yes, she could have been like any one of these people.
Putting herself in their shoes, Catherine realized that she, too, would have had a plethora of questions. Would’ve wanted to know how it all worked. What everything was. So, calling for everyone’s attention, she set to explanations.
She told of Warren’s occupation—as much as she knew, anyway—and spoke of the multitude of trips she made with him preparing the shelter, despite her severe recalcitrance in doing so. She spoke of the countless journeys it took to transport all of the food and supplies and the mind-numbing tediousness in updating provisions.
She talked of the diesel generator and power inverter that worked in tandem to provide the shelter electricity. She mentioned words like photovoltaic cells and explained how they tied into the solar panel mounted at the apex of the alder just outside the shelter for the times when there was sun. Then she pointed out the enormous stash of batteries for the times when there wasn’t.
She demonstrated the manual water pump and told of the days it took to tap the well. She mentioned the difficulty in delivering the 500-gallon storage tank to the location and then the countering, relative ease of retrofitting it with the intricate filter system.
She tapped the walls and explained the necessary thickness requirements of concrete and steel to provide ample protection from fallout. And while on the topic, described how the oxygen generator would provide adequate air while they remained sequestered from the surface. She introduced new terms such as zeolite granules and soda lime and was even able to elucidate on the differences between a chemical and an electrolysis derived oxygen byproduct, the latter being the safer alternative, however hindered it was by the need for more power than the shelter could provide.
To an astounded and attentive group, Catherine pulled open the leftmost of the two interior doors. A surprisingly sufficient and spacious bathroom was revealed behind it. Catherine demonstrated the compact toilet and told of the onsite septic system to which it was connected. She twisted the faucet handles and let out a quick stream of water, pointing out that water pressure was maintained in the water tank. Hot water, she said despairingly, would be a luxury.
She led them behind the other door and into the generator room. Showed them the overhead ductwork that fed from the oxygen generator and connected to blast valves and overpressure relief valves above ground. These valves, she stated, would allow for positive pressure to remain in the shelter at all times and dramatically reduce the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning while ensuring fresh air free from fallout.
Everyone listened intently as Catherine spoke, watched as she indicated and demonstrated like a college professor. Catherine, in turn, felt a surge of undeniable pride at the reception. Never one to be mistaken for her encyclopedic depth on technical matters, she couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of ownership in the topics she discussed. As if these weren’t just things that Warren insisted she understand and repeat back, but were things she actually knew. Concepts she actually grasped and could apply to real life.
The coup de grace of the shelter’s many provisions, however, was yet to come. And as Catherine led the group to the centrally located common area—complete with sofa, chairs, table and a small tv and dvd player—she knew the final reveal would be the one that, if it hadn’t happened already, would send folks over the top.
“I know this is all a lot to digest right now,” Catherine said to everyone as she approached a small shelving unit wrapped in a blue tarpaulin. “Believe me, it was weeks before I could even get a handle on the layout of this place, let alone the individual components that would tie it all together.”
Abby spoke for the first time in a while. “So, all this time, when you and dad were going on getaways, you’ve been coming here?”
Catherine nodded apologetically.
Abby looked over the shelter again, as if this confession had suddenly provided a new dimension to the room.
“Impressive, Catherine,” Janet said. “Truly. This place is simply...amazing. You’re very lucky. But I don’t see how the ten of us can survive here for very long. I mean, it’s clear you have an ample water supply and enough food to last awhile. But it’ll eventually run out. And after it does, then what? Where will we go to scavenge?
“We didn’t come for the food,” Catherine said. “Not all of it anyway.”
“What do you mean we didn’t come for the food?” Alvin said, registering no small amount of irritation in his voice.
“I mean, we did, but that’s not really why we’re here.”
“Then why did we come here, Catherine?” Oliver asked gently.
“Yes,” Madeline added, “Why come all the way out here if not for the food?”
Catherine carefully removed the tarp from over the shelving, flinging it back and away.
“We came for this.”
“What in God’s green earth is that?” Janet said.
“Just what it looks like,” Catherine replied. “A computer.”
Janet looked unbelievingly to Alvin and Oliver. “A computer,” she repeated somewhat sarcastically. “Wonderful. Think maybe I could check my e-mail once you get it powered up? It’s been a while.” Janet chuckled a bit, everyone grunting along jovially.
Catherine pushed buttons on the tower and monitor. Lights blinked on, hard drives spun into action. She moved to some less familiar hardware, flipped on switches and adjusted knobs.
Janet watched suspiciously. “Seriously, Catherine, what are you doing?”
“Waiting for it to boot up. Once it does, I need to sign in.”
“To what?” Janet cried. “The internet? Jesus, please tell me you’re kidding and we didn’t come all the way out here for this. In case you’ve forgotten, there hasn’t been a power grid for months.”
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not connecting to the Internet.” Catherine twisted around to meet Janet’s incredulous gaze. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am and, quite honestly, I’m getting a little tired of your shit.”
Janet’s eyebrows rose in monster arcs as Catherine whirled back around.
“But what I am doing,” Catherine continued, “is preparing to make a call of sorts.”
&n
bsp; “A call. That’s all well and good,” Janet said somewhat reserved, “But as I’ve just told you, there isn’t any power. You may have it here but how are you planning on connecting to another phone? Everything’s dead.”
The monitor popped to life. A simple “username” and “password” dialogue box appeared onscreen. Catherine typed quickly then turned around.
“With this,” she said, pointing to a phone resting on the table. A simple AC charger snaked into the base, the cable disappearing behind the table. A light on the phone blinked green.
“Is that a Sat phone?” Josh said from behind everyone.
“It is.”
“I always wanted to get one of those,” Oliver proclaimed. “Supposed to be able to call virtually anywhere in the world with one.”
“More or less,” Catherine said, staring anxiously at the screen.
“Excuse me for asking, Catherine,” Alvin said, “but I thought Sat phones only worked on line-of-sight.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s ‘line-of-sight’ mean?” Madeline asked.
“It means the antenna from the phone needs to be unobstructed with the satellite in order to make a connection.” Alvin turned from Madeline to Catherine. “In houses, buildings or, say, bomb shelters, it’s supposed to be difficult, if not impossible, to get a signal. Which begs the question.”
Catherine smiled, eyed Alvin. “Why do I have a Sat phone in a bomb shelter? Fair question. Well, as you know, Sat phones don’t rely on earthbound infrastructure. So in the event of an all out world catastrophe, such as we have, cell phones and landlines would be rendered extinct whereas Sat phones would still remain functional since their signal is bounced off of orbiting, preferably geosynchronous, satellites, independent of earthbound power systems.
“What I’m trying to say, Alvin,” Catherine continued, “is that you’re right. You do need line-of-sight. Which is why we installed an antenna extension to the tree outside as well.” Catherine reached behind the phone and retrieved the end of a cable that vanished somewhere into the shelter wall. “With this we can achieve a good signal while remaining indoors.”
