by Ira Tabankin
“Tony, can’t you step into his shoes? Can’t you be the leader until Jay snaps out of it? Maybe seeing you assume his position will help him come back to us.”
Tony smiles saying, “He may assume he doesn’t have to come back. I’m going to see the doc, I think I can maneuver Jay into the medical facility. I’ll tell him one of us got hurt. He deeply cares for everyone in the shelter. He feels responsible for us being here. I think he’ll follow me to the medical facility if he thinks one of his flock is hurt.”
Lacy, with tears still in her eyes whispers, “Tony, he saved us. His foresight in building the shelter saved our lives. He didn’t hurt us, he saved all of our lives.”
“Lacy, he doesn’t see it that way. He thinks he’s responsible for the loss of our homes, for the wounded and of course for the two who didn’t make it.”
“He didn’t lead the mobs of homeless or bring the bikers. If we didn’t have the shelter, we’d most likely be dead, with our young girls taken as sex slaves. Tony, please do whatever you can to bring him back.”
“Lacy, I will. By the way, have you seen Todd?”
“He spends most of his time with John in the security room.”
”Thanks, I’ll find him, he can’t have managed to go very far. There aren’t many places anyone can hide here.”
Lacy nods saying, “I’m amazed how large the shelter looked from the outside looking in and how small it feels once we’re living inside here.”
“That’s because you were looking at the large hole in the ground and the empty space. Once the rooms and walls were added, and, of course, all of us, the space seems much smaller. Lacy, remember there're forty of us and tons of supplies jammed in here.”
While Tony and Lacy are talking, Fred and Cheri, their friends from their above ground compound walk over, Fred says, “I thought I heard your voices down the hall. Are you waiting for Jay to complete his current lap?”
Tony smiles asking Fred, “Are you keeping track of his laps?”
“Well, there's not much else to do with my arm still in this damn sling. There’s not a lot for a farmer to accomplish when we’re living under our fields. We’ve watched Jay walk laps around the shelter for a week now. He seems to be in the twilight zone or outer limits. My attempts to contact him are met with just a faraway look in his eyes.”
Lacy and Tony nod in agreement. Fred continues, “Sometimes I walk with him. I wait till he reaches our room, then I just tag along beside him. I try speaking with him as he walks, he either ignores me or he doesn’t hear me. A couple of times I’ve tried to steer him to the medical shelter which is the one area he avoids.”
Cheri adds, “It’s as if he blames himself for those of us who were wounded or killed in our last battle. He doesn’t want to go near the medical lab. I think he’s afraid of coming face to face with the bodies and the wounded.”
Tony lowers his voice so anyone trying to overhear them can’t, “Didn’t the medical staff remove the bodies?”
Fred whispers, “Yes, they are in body bags and kept in cold storage. I can’t believe Jay included a cold storage area for bodies. He thought of everything.”
With tears running down her face, Lacy responds, “He thought of everything and he blames himself for everything.”
Cheri responds, “He saved all of our lives, we’re not upset with him, we’re happy he gave us a second chance at life. We know it’s only a matter of time before we go home again. We’re sure he has a plan to take us home. He wouldn’t have built the shelter without a plan to take us home.”
Fred whispers, “While he saved most of us, he doesn’t seem to be able to save himself. Lacy, have you thought about sending your grandkids after him? I bet he’ll respond to them.”
“He doesn’t respond to me, what makes you think he’ll respond to them?”
“They’re his grandkids, I bet you he’ll respond to them. Adults and especially grandparents react differently to children than we do to other adults. Most of us don’t even realize we do it. Our minds seem to always keep a channel open for them. Lacy, do us all a favor and send the little ones after their Papa. Send the two youngest, I know he has a special place in his heart for Bianca and Linda. I bet if they go to him he’ll respond.”
“I have nothing to lose and a lot to gain, I’ll find Shelly and Sammi to get the girls to chase their Papa.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let Ricky go near him, I don’t think there’s much love lost there.”
Lacy laughs, “Got that right, Ricky’s been pissed about being forced to be underground and in a small room. He thought being Jay’s son-in-law would get him a suite and give him special privileges. I’ve tried to explain to him that all of the rooms are the same size. Jay laid out the shelter with all of the bedrooms the same size so no one would think there was any favoritism. Ricky doesn’t believe it. He thinks we have a special room hidden away from everyone. There're times I find him searching for our hidden room. It’s almost funny.”
Fred smiles saying, “Let him waste his time searching, it keeps him out of our hair.”
Lacy smiles, “I’ll find the little ones, I’m sure they’ll be happy to run around chasing their Papa. I’ll tell them it’s a special game of hide and seek.”
Tony smiles, “I think Fred may be onto something. It’s worth a try, what do we have to lose?”
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I’m near the far right-hand end of the shelter. My mind keeps replaying the battle, I can’t stop it. I think I’m doomed to relive the last battle forever. I think God’s punishing me for my sins. He’s going to torture me for the deaths of my friends. He’s punishing me for all of the people I’ve killed. I want the memory to stop. I wish I could stop my feelings. My body feels like we’re still fighting the invaders. God, please STOP torturing me, if I wronged you, if my sins are so large, then take me. I’m ready to pay for what I’ve done. I’m ready to stand in front of you and answer for my sins.
We’ve become a community of moles. Two groups of refugees and an outlaw biker gang overran our property. They have our homes while we’re living underground. There were over a thousand of them versus the forty-two of us. We had a barbed wire fence that surrounded our property. We welded the gates to our driveways shut. We dug thousands of small punji pits and spread hunting traps to slow down and hopefully stop any group of invaders. We dug covered trenches in our driveways so any vehicles driving on them would drop nose first and get trapped. We had a fighting trench that went around our homes, we dug it five feet deep, it was lined with wood and cement. We piled up dirt and debris in front of the trench. We had fighting holes so we could fire from our trench while still being protected. Each of us wore US military body armor, we had fully automatic M16s, M4s, and Uzis. For close in defense we had 12 gauge shotguns. We had over 100,000 rounds of ammo, hand grenades, and four RPGs. We’d built toss-able pipe bombs and we made our own Claymore mines which we laid along our front fence. Yet the only thing our defenses did was slow the attackers, slowed them! But even with all of our defenses and firepower we couldn’t stop them. We fired our rifles on full auto until the barrels changed color and smoked. We set off our Claymore mines which spread thousands of steel BBs and nails towards our attackers. We killed hundreds of them, our lawns turned red from the blood of the dead and wounded. We could have filled a river with the blood, theirs and ours mixed together. The wounded in front of us screamed in pain, they begged for mercy. Bodies and body parts lay everywhere. It was a scene straight out of hell. The empty brass in our fighting trench was up to our ankles. Our teens were grabbing empty magazines, refilling them and bringing full ones to us so we could continue to kill those who were trying to kill us.
The last battle replays through my mind like I’m watching a war movie. I feel it like it’s still happening, Tony’s M4 jammed, he tried clearing the round, no matter what he did, his rifle failed to eject the spent brass, he looked at me, I nodded in silent agreement. He tossed the M4 over his shoulder while picking
up the Thompson that hung on a sling around his neck. The big ‘Tommy Gun’ barked and spit out large 45 caliber bullets, Tony was firing a mix of JHP and FMJ rounds. The impact energy of the fat 45 slugs stopped every attacker they struck in mid-step. The ‘Tommy Gun’ was a bitch to control. When Tony tried to fire the submachine gun on full auto, it took on a life of its own. It wanted to climb and send rounds to heaven. When the invaders got closer, I dropped my M4 letting it hang on its sling and picked up my shotgun. For close range fighting, I liked the shotgun. Firing buckshot, it was deadly at close range. I fired as quickly as I could pull the trigger and pump the gun. Six rounds and reload by pushing new shells into the bottom of the gun. In hindsight, I should have bought shotguns that held more than six rounds. No matter how many bullets and buckshot balls we sent down range, the invaders kept coming. No matter how many we took down, in the end we lost. In the Cold War, the Russians said that quantity is its own quality. I sadly learned how right they were. We shot through thousands of rounds, there are bodies stacked up from our street to our fighting trench and still they came. There was no stopping them. They tried to swarm over us, they would have killed all of us had we not retreated into the shelter.
Their hunger pushed them forward, no matter the cost, they continued to advance on us. They knew we had what they needed; food and water. My driveway was littered with broken motorcycles and two burning school buses. One bus ran into our vehicle trench, the other was stopped by an RPG that killed everyone on board. The air around us was filled with smoke and haze from all of the shooting and explosions. Many of us coughed from inhaling the smoke from our weapons and burning vehicles. Our eyes watered from the smoke, our tears left tracks down our dirt and soot covered cheeks. We smelled our own fear on each other. None of us ever expected to be attacked by multiple human waves. Their lives meant nothing to them, they ran head first into our relentless firing. At first many of us cried for the dead, we cried for the souls we killed, as the number of dead increased, we ran out of tears, no matter how many we killed or wounded, more came. They came at us from our front, from our flanks and from our rear. There weren’t enough of us to stop the invaders. We knew we were doomed. All of my plans were dying in front of my eyes. I’d known that we lacked sufficient numbers to stop a mass attack, I didn’t think different mobs and gangs would work together to attack us at the same time. I thought I had all the answers, all I really had was death. I’d become the Angel of death.
We were losing more than just the battle, we were losing people, eleven of us had been hit, some of the eleven needed urgent medical attention. Poor Fred, who was recently released from our medical center, was shot again. Eleven of us were shot, eleven of us were badly injured because I didn’t plan well enough. Eleven people were wounded because of me! I learned later than two of the eleven didn’t make it. They were hit by a lucky or I should say damn unlucky shot that caught them under their arm, the bullet was able to enter their chest through the arm opening in their armored vests. When the doc told me we’d lost two, I fell to my knees. I begged God for help. I feel everyone’s pain and suffering. I feel like there’s been a hole torn in my soul for the two dead. I can’t bring myself to ask who they were. When the invaders came at us from all points of the compass, I knew that no matter how many we killed or wounded we couldn’t win. We didn’t have the numbers to beat back such a large attack. Looking around at my neighbors, I knew we should retreat to the shelter. I remember it like it just happened, I pressed the auto dial button on my phone for John, I’ll remember our conversation forever,
“How’s it look from the cameras?”
“Not good. There’s too many of them.”
“OK,” I knew in my soul I’d waited too long. I should have done this earlier in the battle. Had I done so, maybe the two dead would still be alive, maybe the nine wounded wouldn’t have been hurt. My ego said we could win, my brain knew better, I listened to the wrong one. I pressed the group ‘call all’ on my phone, I yelled, “SHELTER!”
Tears rolled down my cheeks when I said, “John, set off our remaining Claymores and the smoke bombs to cover our withdrawal.” I should have moved us out earlier, I could have, I should have saved more of us. We’re going to need all the bodies we have to retake our homes.
John pressed the buttons to explode our remaining mines and ignite the smoke bombs which fills the space around us with heavy, dense smoke. The words I spoke echo in my head every night, “Everyone to the SHELTER, let’s move it.”
Per our ‘go to hell plan’. Everyone fired off the balance of their current magazine before they headed to the entrance of our shelter. The healthy helped the wounded, the kids helped the doc and nurse, they stood ready with quick clot bandages which they slapped on wounds stopping the bleeding. The younger ones handed everyone entering the shelter a bottle of water and a wet washcloth so they can wipe the dirt off of their faces. Four guards stood just outside of the armored doors firing off full magazines to block anyone from getting close to us. I was the last one in the shelter, I turned to face the guards, “Come, time’s short. We’ve got to lock her down.”
After the guards entered the shelter, I spun the wheel latch locking the armored door. I locked the door right after the last of us ran into the actual shelter. I entered my PIN into the control panel ensuring anyone else who tried to open the door would get a warm surprise. When I closed the outer door, camouflage-covered the armored doors, hopefully hiding our main door from the invaders. We should be safe unless the invaders have a large supply of high-quality explosives, even then, we have multiple sets of armored doors.
We’re safe inside the shelter. To ensure our safety, the main shelter was designed with multiple armored steel blast doors. Cutting through one doesn’t do anything except allow the invaders to face another armored blast door. All of the blast doors have their hinges on the inside. The handles on the outside of the doors are covered with metal plates. If the attackers tried setting off a high explosive to blast through the doors, the explosion would reverberate between the doors and steel walls killing the attackers. I lined the space between the doors with booby traps. The attackers are going to need very high temperature cutting torches to cut through the doors. As an added security measure, the doors are designed to counter cutting torches by being filled with reinforced cement. We should be safe in our underground shelter. If it weren't so serious it would be funny, we’re hiding right under their noses.
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We knew the day might come when we’d be overrun. If we were, we would need eyes and ears on the situation above ground while we hid under the fields. We built hidden cameras all around our property which feed to the monitors in the security shelter. After securing the shelter, Tony and I jog through the shelter to the security room, John is surrounded by monitors showing what the cameras see. As we enter his ‘office’ John smiles, he points to the monitor showing the hordes of people swarming into our fighting trenches. John looks at me, I nod my head in agreement. He turns a red key on a panel in front of him. A series of small blocks of c4 and homemade explosives covered with BBs explode around and in our trench. The BBs fly into the invader’s bodies, shredding them right before our eyes. A couple of the camera lens are covered in blood. Snarling I say, “I wish we could do that to all of them.”
Shaking his head, Tony looks at me saying, “And people think I’m the violent one. Jay, everything can be replaced, I don’t think we lost anyone in the battle.”
“Maybe not lost, but eleven of us got hit. Isn’t that enough? What about all of our work? What about our homes? What about the fields and crops in the ground?”
Tony wipes dirt off his face saying, “Jay, come on, you told us this was going to happen which is why you built the shelter. When everyone else thought you were nuts when they called you Chicken Little you kept going. You were right, everyone who said you were crazy is now regretting they didn’t follow your example. This is why we both spent a small fortune building this underground commu
nity. It was your vision, your out of the box idea of a way to keep us alive. How many would be dead if we didn’t have an escape plan?”
“Tony, I keep thinking if we didn’t have the shelter and stored food they wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Jay, cut the shit, they would have hit us no matter what. They’re hitting every farm, they think the farms have food that’s been withheld from the cities. They think we’re part of the problem, not the solution. They’re going to eat everything they find, then they’ll check our crops in the ground thinking everything can be pulled out and eaten. They’re going to be surprised when they realize food doesn’t grow quickly and doesn’t come out of the ground cooked.”
“Tony, turn off the power, water and gas to our homes, maybe if they’re in the cold and dark without water they may leave quicker.”
