William Johnstone - The Doomsday Bunker

“It’s too risky,” Fisher insisted.

“That little chamber between the blast doors hasn’t been contaminated, has it?”

Moultrie rubbed the beard on his chin as he frowned in thought. After a moment he said, “No, it’s still fine. The outer door is sealed and hasn’t been breached at all. It’s pretty thick, but if you took a hammer and banged on it, Ruskin ought to be able to hear it.”

“It’s a bad idea, Graham,” Fisher said. “You don’t know what kind of trick Ruskin and his friends are trying to pull.”

Larkin said, “Do you really think they have the capability to carry out any kind of trick? It’s probably taken everything they have just to stay alive up there. They’re not plotting against us.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No more than you can guarantee that they are .”

“That’s enough,” Moultrie said. “I would like to know more about what’s going on at the surface. We need to find somebody who knows Morse code.”

“I do,” Larkin said.

Jill looked up at him and said, “Dad, wait a minute—”

“It’s a good idea, it ought to work, and I won’t be taking much of a chance. I can do it, Graham.”

“If anything goes wrong, we won’t be able to let you back in,” Fisher warned.

Jill looked like she was going to protest about that, but Moultrie said, “I’m afraid Chuck’s right, Patrick. We can open the inner door and let you into the antechamber, but then we’ll have to seal it up again, and if there’s any sort of breach—as unlikely as that seems—we won’t open it.”

Larkin nodded and said, “I understand that. But this won’t be the first time I’ve volunteered for a job with some risk to it.”

“No, I imagine it’s not,” Moultrie said, smiling faintly. “If you’re sure you want to tackle it, we’ll give it a try.”

“Dad, you ought to go talk to Mom before you do this,” Jill said.

“Nah, she knows what I’m like. Besides, she might try to talk me out of it. Better she doesn’t know until it’s all over and I’m fine.”

“But what if—”

Larkin held up a hand to stop her. “I said I’d be fine.”

Moultrie turned to Fisher and said, “Find one of the maintenance guys and borrow a hammer. Meet us at the inner door.”

Larkin patted Jill on the shoulder and told her, “Just relax, kid. Don’t worry about me.”

He felt his daughter’s anxious gaze following him as he left the Situation Room with Moultrie.

“I appreciate you stepping up like this, Patrick,” Moultrie said as they headed for the hallway leading to the main entrance and the blast doors. Along the way, they passed a number of the residents, none of whom had any idea what was going on. Most smiled and nodded pleasantly as Larkin and Moultrie went by. The two men walked at a casual pace, taking pains that their gait didn’t reveal anything was wrong.

“Somebody’s got to do the job, and I’m not as vital a cog as you and Chuck,” Larkin said.

“I don’t know about that. I like to think that everyone down here is a vital cog in the way the project functions. We’ve made it so far.”

“But since we’ve been down here, we haven’t really been tested,” Larkin pointed out. “The friction with Charlotte Ruskin and her bunch doesn’t really count.”

“No, you’re right about that.” Moultrie sighed. “That grace period may be over. We may be tested sooner than we’d like.”

Larkin could understand Moultrie’s concern, but at the same time he really didn’t see how Nelson Ruskin and any other survivors up on the surface could pose a serious threat.

Along the way, they also passed a set of heavy steel doors. Larkin knew that on the other side of those doors was a short corridor leading to a freight elevator that Moultrie had used for bringing supplies down here during the months before the war when he’d been developing the project. Larkin pointed at the doors with a thumb and said, “What about the elevator?”

“You mean as a way for outsiders to breach the project?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Impossible,” Moultrie said. “The elevator is down here, and the top of it is solid steel. It would take a week to cut through it. At the top of the shaft is a hatch made of steel and concrete thick enough that a bomb would have to land directly on it to even make a dent. And that hatch was inside a building that’s now debris. Outsiders wouldn’t even know the elevator shaft is there. Despite all that, just as a precaution we have cameras monitoring it. You know that, Patrick.”

“I know, but it’s still another potential way in. We should probably have guards stationed there around the clock, too.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Why don’t you say something to Chuck about it when you get back from this job?”

“All right.”

“And be sure to tell him it was your suggestion, and I agree with it.”

Larkin didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t give a damn who got credit for an idea, only that it was implemented properly and did what it was supposed to.

He started to say something about another rumor he had heard, that Moultrie had a private elevator somewhere in the project that only he and Deb knew about. Larkin decided not to mention it at the moment, but he would feel Chuck Fisher out about the possibility later. If there was any truth to the gossip, that was another avenue of ingress that would need to be secured.

They reached the corridor leading to the blast doors without attracting any undue attention and went through the regular doors to wait for Fisher, who showed up a couple of minutes later carrying a large, heavy hammer. He held it up and said, “Didn’t think you could use a sledgehammer for something like this, but this one’s got plenty of heft and ought to do the job.”

Larkin took it, weighed it in his hand, and nodded. “That’ll work.”

Fisher threw a latch that locked the door leading into the hallway from Corridor One. They didn’t want any of the residents wandering in here right now. Moultrie went to the control panel next to the interior blast door and began pushing buttons on it as he said, “There’s an intercom on the wall in there, Patrick. We’ll be able to hear you as well as see you, so you can let us know when you’re ready to be let back in. Are you sure you’re all right with going through with this?”

“I’m not gonna back out now,” Larkin said.

“All right.” Moultrie thumbed one more button, and machinery began to hum. That sound built to a rumble, and then with a low hiss that signified the airtight seal was breaking, the blast door began to swing open.

As soon as the gap was big enough, Larkin slipped through it into the antechamber. He looked back and nodded curtly to Moultrie, who returned the nod and began entering another sequence on the keypad. The door reversed itself and settled back into place. Larkin heard the seals tightening into position. Dim, recessed lighting shone from the ceiling as he turned toward the outer blast door.

He was alone now in this steel and concrete bubble between two worlds, the sterile safety of the Hercules Project and the outside that had been devastated by nuclear fire.

He took a deep breath, walked over to the other door, and began tapping on it with the hammer.

Larkin had learned Morse code when he was a young man, even before he was in the Marine Corps, because he had thought for a while that he might want to be a ham radio operator. He had never gotten very involved in the hobby, but he still remembered the dots and dashes. He was sure he was rusty at it, but he believed that if he took it slow, he could make himself understood.