by Stan Mason
The fact that the vendor was a fanatic concerning the danger of falling meteorites and nuclear attack could not be understated, but Roger was equally enthused. He recognised that, apart from the bungalow, the shelter afforded an instant extra room for friends who might wish to stay overnight or at weekends. It was an annex of a unique nature which would rank him supreme among all those who knew him, incurring their greenest envy. Everyone would be talking about the nuclear shelter!
The great drawback was the need to learn every detail of the operation in case of need. To be fair, Trevelyan could not be faulted in his efforts to outline the problems. He warned Roger time and time again that the electronic controls were complex and the information relating to them needed to be learned until they had been scorched into his brain. He took particular care to explain the importance of understanding every aspect of the system and the equipment, stressing repeatedly that life might depend on such knowledge. Apart from knowing the numerical code of the combination lock required to open the second metal door, it was of vital importance to remember the location of the key switches to the main support functions, the means by which to repair them in case malfunction occurred and, most essential of all, the location of the exit trip-switch. This was the device installed to open the door of the lower chamber from the inside. It was tucked away in a well-hidden position to prevent it being pressed by accident at a time when the door needed to be closed... such as during a nuclear attack. It was all clearly explained in the two manuals on the bookshelf in the outer chamber.
Beth was not as enthusiastic about the place as her prospective husband. The bungalow was attractive, and fell within their price range but she had set her heart on a three-bedroom house. Furthermore, she was less than enchanted with the shelter at the bottom of the garden. It gave her the creeps! The hollow unnatural vacuum of the chambers sent shivers down her spine and she wished that Roger had never seen the advertisement in the newspaper. To her, the shelter represented a mausoleum... a place where people were buried. If she ever wanted to use it, for any reason whatsoever, there were all those complicated instructions to learn by heart... not that she had the slightest intention of ever going in there: certainly not on her own! But it would always be there at the bottom of the garden ready to haunt her. Roger tried everything in his power to quell her fears, claiming he had a photographic memory and could learn the instructions by heart in a very short time. He assured her that once he had read the two manuals he would be able to recall the most intricate details about the equipment. She had nothing to worry about. Beth debated with herself whether, in the heat of the moment, his arrogance defeated reason but she decided not to argue the point. Meanwhile, Trevelyan ran through the programme again before they retraced their steps to the garden. As he closed the outer door, he smiled with satisfaction. ‘So you see. It’s all very simple really. It may save your lives one day. You just never know.’
Roger nodded in agreement. ‘That’s right. You just never know.’
Once in the open, the vendor pointed to the giant lightning conductor located outside the shelter which reached some fifty feet upwards to the sky. ‘This lightning conductor has been installed to protect the shelter in case of a thunderstorm,’ Trevelyan told him. ‘Now, I’ll tell you again, don’t forget the two major instruction manuals on the shelf in the outer chamber. Read them and remember every detail. Your life may depend on it.’
The two men appeared to have entered into a silent agreement with each other concerning the purchase of the property. Without even discussing details, they both seemed to accept that ownership of the bungalow would transfer from one to the other. Although Trevelyan had advertised for a purchaser, it appeared to Beth that the property had viewed them for approval rather than the other way around. In the absence of any alternative suitable properties on the market within their price range, she had no option but to accept the situation. As time progressed, the young couple became the proud owners of the bungalow... and the nuclear shelter.
It wasn’t long before the list of wedding arrangements was completed. There was nothing left to be done... with the exception of the honeymoon. They had left this to last because it depended on how much money they had left in their account. Needless to say, their funds were so low it wasn’t going to be a trip abroad to an exotic island. Some of their mischievous friends had made discreet enquiries to determine the location of their wedding-night destination, hoping to play some kind of foolish trick on them. They were to be firmly denied. Not that either Beth or Roger took precautions to avoid any such prank for neither of them had any idea where they would go on their honeymoon.
‘It’s going to be very difficult,’ said Beth, flicking through the pages of a travel brochure. She scanned the pages for Malta, Cyprus, Majorca, Spain and the Canary Islands. ‘Going abroad is fairly cheap at this time of the year but still far too expensive for us. What are we going to do?’
Roger shrugged his shoulders. It was the only item on their list he had been unable to satisfy. He had been through the figures with a fine toothcomb in an effort to find more money, but it was not to be. After covering the cost of the wedding, the deposit on the property and the fees of the solicitor to purchase it, plus furniture and other items, there was practically nothing left for their honeymoon. For days he couldn’t get it out of his mind. There had to be a solution somewhere. Then, suddenly, he came up with a novel idea.
‘I think I’ve cracked it!’ he told Beth one evening. ‘We haven’t got enough to go abroad, or even for a decent hotel in this country. And then I thought there’s no place like home! No place like home!’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she returned. ‘We don’t really have any option. If we don’t win on the lottery this week we’ll have to spend our honeymoon in our new home. But you do realise it’ll be the first place our friends will come looking for us on our wedding night. Can you imagine them missing out on the obvious?’
‘No... I don’t mean the bungalow!’ he chided gently. ‘I’m not that stupid! I’m talking about the shelter! They know it exists but they would never imagine we’d use it. Not in a million years! Anyhow, they would have to know the combination of the electronic lock so they couldn’t get in if they tried. They won’t have a clue that we’re in there. All we need is some food and drink and we can stay snug as a bug in a rug for as long as we fancy. Naturally, we can come for air occasionally but they’ll be gone by the following day. It’ll be cheap, and a great deal of fun... I guarantee it!’
Beth nursed a discomforting thought nagging at the back of her mind, experiencing the same malaise as when she had flown to Italy in an aircraft and it had crashed on landing. Not surprisingly, she baulked at the suggestion at first. But, as the wedding drew close, Roger persisted, claiming they had almost run out of money and there was really no alternative. He agreed readily to ensure that the rest of the honeymoon would be spent in leisurely pursuits such as driving to different locations, swimming at the local beach, and eating at pleasant restaurants... whatever the weather. Facing defeat on the issue, she submitted to his whim against her better judgement, reconciling herself to the fact they would use the shelter for limited periods only... at night. At last, the list was completed... everything was settled.
At the end of the following week, wedding bells rang out and the marriage took place in grand style at the local church. It was a glorious day. The weather was kind and everything went off without a hitch. The bride looked beautiful in an ornate wedding gown; the groom was handsome in his hired grey top hat and tails. It was truly a day to remember. They told their friends they were taking the first flight to Tenerife the next morning and mentioned they had booked a room at a hotel close to the airport. It was sufficient to put everyone off the scent. Consequently, when the reception was over and most of the guests had left, the happy couple climbed into their car, bedecked with ‘Just Married’ stickers and trailing tin cans, and drove off in the dir
ection of the airport to deceive any pursuers. After they had driven a few miles, they laughed at their deception, and cut back to their bungalow. Roger parked the car in the garage, closing the door and locking it to hide the vehicle from sight. Holding hands, and smiling at each other with love and affection, they entered the shelter, emulating the steps taken on the day they had viewed the property. After opening the outer door in the garden, Roger carried his bride down the first set of steps. It was a customary act but strangely macabre in such an unusual place. This time, all the doors were closed behind them, the last one locking shut with a hissing sound produced by the hydraulic system, sealing them firmly inside. The newly-weds considered their location a source of amusement, laughing and kissing each other at having defeated their mischievous friends.
‘You see!’ boasted Roger, in his inimitable arrogant fashion. ‘This is an ideal place for a honeymoon! It’s a haven of absolute peace and tranquillity with no danger of intruders ... and safe from falling meteorites or nuclear missiles.’
They both laughed easily falling into each other’s arms to make passionate advances to each other as husband and wife. It was a night of sheer bliss for both of them... one they would remember for the rest of their lives! But Roger had failed to heed the wisdom of Trevelyan’s advice. He was so assured of his capability... so certain of his ability to resolve problems relating to computer technology... he had never once attempted to familiarise himself with the details of the chamber’s electronic system. The two manuals in the outer chamber remained on the bookshelf unopened. In truth, the wedding had taken so much time and effort he had forgotten all about them.
He awoke late the next morning at the sound of a strange noise. It was the shrill tone of a bleeper which expressed itself repetitively from an alarm fitted into the ceiling. He pressed the light button on his wrist-watch to read the time in the darkness. A red light flashed persistently on a monitor keyboard. Confused for a moment at the sudden incursion into his sleep, he realised that at least one of the life-support systems had started to fail. He turned on the light installed to illuminate the room but it flashed intermittently causing him concern. Suddenly, it stopped altogether plunging the chamber into darkness again. He recalled that a torch rested on the nearby shelf and his hand reached out to find it. If the life-support system was beginning to fail it was essential for them both to leave the shelter immediately. He could always undertake the necessary repairs at leisure. On reflection, he realised he had failed to study the operation manuals. Reaching for the exit trip-switch to release the door of the chamber his hand slid down the side of the bed. His fingers felt around the edges idly as he tried to find it. Then the blood ran cold through his veins as though turning to ice. He couldn’t remember its location! The old man had warned him it was hidden very cleverly to avoid the door being opened by accident in times of danger. The details were identified in the two manuals, but they rested idly on the bookshelf beyond his reach in the outer chamber.
He went to the console and sat in front of it benignly. In the void which seemed to have replaced his brain, he had no idea which buttons to press, but he had to do something to resolve the problem. He let his hands run over the keys and waited for some reaction. Shortly, the gentle whirr of the air-conditioning fan faded into obscurity as it came to a halt. He became aware very abruptly that the main life-support function had ceased. In a panic, he started pressing all the keys on the console but nothing else happened. In hindsight, Roger’s honeymoon concept had been a great idea, but now it brought them to the threshold of a serious dilemma. For the next five minutes he tried desperately to find the exit trip-switch. However, the harder he searched the more elusive it seemed to be. Beth was still asleep. It was essential she stayed asleep at all costs. If she woke and discovered what was happening... and realised his inability to resolve the problem... she might panic. Eventually, he slowed down his mental processes and inhaled deeply. If ever there was a time for the accurate recall of Trevelyan’s words it was now... at this moment! What were the actual words of the old man when he took him through the control system in detail? He said the exit trip-switch was tucked away in a well-hidden position to prevent it being pressed by accident at a time when a the door needed to be closed. That didn’t help at all! Roger admitted to himself he had been so enthralled with the shelter at the time that some things he was told had gone by the board. Unfortunately, the location of the exit trip-switch was one of them! The details outlined by Trevelyan had failed to sink into his mind and, worst still, contrary to what he told Beth, he didn’t have a photographic memory. Inevitably, he became frenetic, running his hands at random over the locations where the exit trigger-switch might be found... but the door remained firmly closed. He cursed the manufacturer for such delicate engineering and design as perspiration ran down his face in the darkness.
‘Damn you!’ he muttered angrily under his breath. ‘Where the hell are you!’
As if in response, the bleeping faded away and the red light stopped flashing indicating that the battery installed for running the operational systems had run out of energy. He had never enquired of Trevelyan about the power source: nor had he found time to read about it in the manuals. It was possible there was insufficient power left to maintain any of the life-support systems. Indeed, even if he found the exit trip-switch, there might not be enough energy left for the door to open. There were situations, such as in hospitals, when auxiliary power from batteries cut in when the main power source failed. He had no idea whether this would be the case in the shelter. For the first in his life he experienced a terrible feeling... the realisation there was no hope. He fell to his knees and put his hands together in prayer. ‘Please God!’ he pleaded. ‘Let me find a way out of here and I’ll never do anything wrong again. I swear, I’ll never sin again.’
Beth started to wake at this point and she began to gasp for breath in the claustrophobic environment.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked despairingly. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ he told her, putting on a brave face. ‘We have a slight hiccup. I can’t seem to find the exit trip-switch to open the door. But there’s no panic. I’ll soon get us out of here. Just stay calm.’
‘I knew something like this would happen!’ she cried. ‘I knew!’
‘We’ll be out of here in no time,’ he replied. ‘Wait and see!’
His remarks were pointless for he had no idea whether he would ever find the door-release. Trevelyan’s words kept echoing through his mind at a rate of knots, referring to the importance of reading and understanding the control manuals. ‘Read them and remember every point in detail,’ the old man had told him. ‘Your life may depend on it! Your life may depend on it! Your life may depend on it!’ Roger sat on the bed with his head in his hands, driving deeply into his memory until he realised he reached a point where he was unable to remember anything at all.
He started to bang on the wall with his fists and then went to the door to try to force it open physically. It was a hopeless task but he wasn’t prepared to sit still and die. The atmosphere began to deteriorate gradually and an unpleasant stench began to fill the chamber causing them to cough and fight back nausea. Yet he was still unable to find the exit trip-switch despite further efforts to locate it. Time passed by and the pollution worsened considerably. Roger knew they were relying on the oxygen left in the chamber. It was simply a matter of time before it was used up. But that was only part of their problem. It soon became apparent that water was seeping into the chamber, flowing slowly but persistently in tiny rivulets down the sides of the walls. Roger reckoned that if it continued in the same fashion or accelerated they might be drowned before suffocating through lack of oxygen. But worst of all was the great vacuum of absolute silence during which they could hear their heartbeats pounding in their ears. It was like being in space where no one can hear a person scream. Seconds seemed like minutes; minutes like ho
urs. The air became so foul it was difficult to breathe. Inches of water rose from the floor creeping steadily higher, above their ankles towards their knees, while the temperature in the chamber started to fall considerably increasing the danger of hypothermia. Death was all around them... each form waiting impatiently to claim their lives. Beth sat upright, leaning against the damp wall, immobile, almost senseless... her young life passing away as her lungs heaved in their effort to seek more oxygen. Roger fared little better, spending most of his time conserving his energy as he blamed himself for their incarceration in this horrifying modern tomb. The battery torch had long failed, the room was pitch dark, and it was very cold. He put his arm round Beth’s shoulders but it was an act of kindness she was unable to appreciate. He shivered miserably for a while and then decided to perpetrate one last wild act in an attempt to escape. If he short-circuited the system it might affect the door in such a way that it would open. His hands closed on a long screwdriver and he held it over the console poised as if to strike. It was their last chance for survival. If this didn’t work they would be dead within a short time.
Then, without warning, Beth passed out. She slid sideways and pitched to the floor in a coma. As she fell, her head struck the edge of a piece of equipment, two feet away from the place where Roger had been searching. Her arm slid down the side of it to touch the exit trip-switch and set it off. Slowly, the metal door hissed like an angry snake and opened widely. Roger looked up unbelievingly, his dry lips mouthing his jubilation.
‘We’re free!’ he shouted with a cry of relief. ‘We’re free!’
He stumbled across the chamber in the darkness, clambered up the steps and raced along the next chamber to open the outer door by the conventional method. In his mind he thought only of saving the life of his wife. By allowing oxygen to flow into the chamber Beth would be able to breathe easily again. Outside, it was night time and the weather was atrocious. A freak storm with strong winds almost blew him across the garden into the fence. He hardly cared, filling his chest with fresh air as the rain torrented down. His hair and face were quickly saturated as he staggered forward in the mud. Reaching out to maintain his balance against the gale force wind, he grasped the lightning conductor to steady himself. At that moment, the sky lit up brilliantly with a streak of lightning which crackled with a jagged edge as it flashed earthward, accompanied by the shattering roar of thunder. The lighting conductor swallowed the flash in a split second. Roger’s back curved in a gentle arc as the force of the current ran through him, and he slid slowly to the ground without ever knowing what hit him. Death was instantaneous!
