William Johnstone - The Doomsday Bunker

They could prepare food here, eat, sleep, study, read. The project had a good-size library of physical books, as well as a huge collection of e-books, movies, and TV shows that could be downloaded onto just about any device anyone could think of. Larkin wasn’t sure how the kids would get along without the latest popular social media site, but they would figure it out. Kids always did.

Under the circumstances, cramped though they might be, the quarters in the Hercules Project were quite possibly the most luxurious accommodations left anywhere in the world. A crazy thought, but it was true.

The family stowed the gear from their bug-out bags in the storage area, then Bailey and Chris sat down at the dining table and got out their phones. There was no Internet, of course, but Trevor had explained to them that there probably wouldn’t be, while they were inside the bunker, so they had already downloaded movies, games, and plenty of other apps to keep themselves occupied for a while. Their parents, along with Larkin and Susan, stood in the doorway watching for a moment, then retreated to the main corridor.

“They look so solemn,” Jill said. “Like the weight of the world is on their shoulders. I can’t stand it. They shouldn’t have to be going through this.”

“No one should,” Trevor said as he put his arms around her. “But—”

“I know. They’re alive. And I’m so thankful that’s true. So thankful that… that all of us are here and safe, at least for the time being.”

“We’ll be all right,” Larkin said. “Everything’s worked just like it was supposed to so far.”

Susan said, “Except for the thirty-three people who couldn’t get here in time.”

Larkin put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly as she dabbed at her eyes. The brain couldn’t really grasp the millions of people who had died today, but it could understand a number like thirty-three. Thirty-three people who had gotten up this morning to go about their lives and now were nothing more than ashes tossed around on a nuclear wind.

“Come on,” Larkin said quietly to his wife. “Let’s go on and let the kids get settled into their place.”

“That’s right,” Trevor said. “ This is our place now. And for who knows how long…”

He and Jill went back into their quarters while Larkin and Susan walked on toward the entrance to Silo A at the end of the corridor. People were moving around, but with a little less than four hundred of them spread out through the two main corridors and the huge lower bunker, it didn’t seem crowded now. Once folks settled into their lives here, Larkin mused, it would be possible to go for long stretches of time without seeing very many of their new neighbors. He knew from talking to Moultrie and Deb that there would be activities to help maintain a sense of community and social connection, but those wouldn’t be mandatory. Larkin had always had to fight the hermit tendency in his own nature, but at least he had Susan to goad him into not being completely antisocial.

Larkin had both of their bags slung over his shoulders and carried the AR-15 in his left hand. The Colt 1911 was still holstered on his hip. All guns were supposed to be locked up in one of the vault rooms except for practicing or if they were needed for defending the project, but no one had asked him for the weapons yet. He supposed they would come around and do that later.

He wanted to talk to Moultrie about volunteering for the security force, too, although the idea of wearing one of those dorky red vests didn’t appeal to him that much.

Besides, red made a good target. Somebody needed to talk to Moultrie about that, and maybe advise him about a few other things, too. Larkin wasn’t going to be pushy about that, however. Anybody who made too many noises about the way things were done often wound up being put in charge, and he sure as hell didn’t want that.

They walked through the double doors at the end of the corridor. The entrance to Apartment 1 was directly in front of them. The elevator was to the left. Back in the days when this underground chamber had held a Nike Hercules missile ready for firing, that had been a service elevator, so it was fairly large. Susan pushed the button to open the door, and as they stepped in, Larkin said, “Jim and Beth Huddleston have the place right under us, you know.”

“Really?” The door slid closed as Susan went on, “I didn’t think Beth would ever agree to getting involved in something like this.”

“Jim did it behind her back.”

“He did?” Susan laughed hollowly. “I don’t mean to be offensive, but I never would have thought that he had the balls.”

“They’re lucky he did. Beth may come around to seeing it that way sooner or later. From the brief conversation I had with them earlier, she’s probably still waiting for the announcement that there really wasn’t a war and it was just some dirty, underhanded trick of the right-wingers instead.”

Susan sighed. “Do you think that now, down here, people will just forget about all that nonsense?”

“We can hope, baby. We can hope.”

Larkin wasn’t convinced of it, though. Some prejudices were so deeply ingrained that maybe not even a nuclear war could blast them out of existence.

Not without blasting humanity completely out of existence as well.

Today might have been a good start on that. It was too soon to tell.

The elevator stopped and let them out into the reception area on their level. Larkin set down the bug-out bags to get the chip-enabled key card from his wallet. Residents in the Hercules Project were able to lock their doors, although Moultrie and his security and main-tainence staff could get in wherever they needed to, of course. Larkin and Susan went into the apartment. Larkin thumbed a switch on the wall.

The indirect LED lighting sprang to life, revealing a small but comfortably furnished living area. A love seat, two armchairs, a desk. Some framed photographs and paintings they had brought from their house hung on the walls. A bathroom and storage area was to the right, kitchen and dining area straight ahead, and the bedroom and second bathroom to the left.

Larkin heeled the door closed behind them, set down their gear again, and put his arm around Susan’s shoulders as she stood there looking at the place.

“Home, sweet home,” he said.

It had been early afternoon, a little after one o’clock, when Jim Huddleston had told Larkin about the North Koreans nuking Seoul. As incredible as it was to believe, not quite three hours had passed since then. Three hours that had changed the world forever.

Larkin and Susan were sitting on the love seat, leaning against each other, quietly drawing strength from the human contact, when the soft chime of the doorbell sounded.

“Are you expecting company?” Susan asked.

“Actually, yeah. Somebody’s probably come to tell us that we need to lock up any guns we brought in with us.”

“I remember you saying that nobody would ever take your guns away from you.”

Larkin frowned. “I know, and honestly, I don’t like it very much. But I understand. In such a confined area, under such high stress, Moultrie doesn’t want people running around armed. Besides, there’s a range down here, and we’re supposed to be able to get our guns whenever we want to practice.” He paused, then went on, “Actually, it would be a good idea to set up classes so that all the people who don’t know how to shoot can learn. There may come a day when we’re relying on everybody in here to defend the place.”

“From what? You heard the things Graham said about the damage and the radiation. There’s no one left up there, Patrick.”