William Johnstone - The Doomsday Bunker

“Just the way it should be,” Moultrie said without hesitation. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’d want anybody down here who could just leave their loved ones behind. We’re talking about… four more people, I believe you said, Patrick?”

Larkin nodded. “Our daughter Jill, her husband Trevor Sinclair, and their kids Bailey and Chris. Bailey’s twelve, Chris is eight.”

“Sounds like a fine family,” Moultrie said. “There’ll be quite a few other kids down here, so they’ll fit right in. And if you’re worried about their education, I knew starting out that I’d definitely have to recruit enough teachers so that we can have our own school. If the world falls apart, it’s going to take educated people to put it back together again.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Susan said. “Let us talk to Jill and Trevor and see what they think.”

“Of course.”

Larkin said, “Aren’t you going to warn us not to wait too long to make up our minds?”

Moultrie smiled. “You’re a smart guy, Patrick. I know you’re not going to be rushed into anything, but at the same time, you’re not going to drag your feet when it’s time to take action. I trust you to figure out what’s right for your family.”

“Fair enough,” Larkin said.

“So, unless there’s something else down here you’d like to see… ?” Moultrie looked at Susan and raised his eyebrows.

She shook her head. “No, I think you’ve covered everything very well.”

“Let’s go back up to the office and have a cup of coffee, then. Deb makes great coffee.”

“He’s really slick, isn’t he?” Susan asked as they drove away from the Hercules Project in Larkin’s SUV.

“Slick as snot,” Larkin agreed.

“Don’t be crude. And yet he’s not really as oily as… as…”

“A snake oil salesman?” Larkin supplied.

“That’s right. I’ve always wondered, though… who would buy snake oil in the first place?” Without waiting for Larkin to answer, Susan went on, “He’s a salesman, no doubt about that, but he also seems very sincere. I can usually tell when somebody’s just trying to talk me into buying something.”

“Exactly. Moultrie really believes in what he’s selling.”

“And his wife is lovely.”

“Is she?” Larkin said.

Susan laughed. “Don’t try acting like you didn’t notice. I know you have a thing for gorgeous redheads.”

“I’m not sure I’d say she’s gorgeous—”

“She’s considerably younger than Graham, though. I suspect she’s not his first wife.”

“And I suspect that’s none of our business,” Larkin said.

“And it really doesn’t have anything to do with whether we sign on the dotted line.”

“Not a thing.”

“We need to get Jill and Trevor to come over for dinner so we can talk to them about this.”

Larkin nodded. “I agree completely. They’re smart kids. We’ll lay it all out for them and see what they think.”

“If they come in on it with us, though, we’re going to have to pay some of the cost. I won’t have them raiding the college funds they’ve set up.”

“We can do that. Of course, if we all wind up down there, they won’t be worrying about college, probably for a long time.”

Susan looked out the passenger side window at the beautiful countryside rolling past. “Don’t remind me. We’re talking about the end of the world, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Larkin said. “And I don’t feel fine.”

Jill Sinclair lined up the sights of the Walther CCP 9mm pistol she held, and in a deliberate fashion, not rushing the shots, put four rounds center mass. The spread at ten yards was six inches. Not bad, she thought as she lowered the pistol, but it could be better. Accuracy could always be improved upon.

She dropped the eight-round magazine, set the Walther on the shelf in front of her, and started reloading. With ear protectors on, she didn’t hear the step behind her, didn’t know anybody was there until a hand lightly touched her shoulder. She had thought she was alone on the range.

She closed her left fist around the partially reloaded magazine, ready to bring it around and punch if she had to. She resisted the impulse to do so blindly and looked over her right shoulder instead. Probably a good thing she did, she thought. Her husband wouldn’t have appreciated it if she’d punched him in the face and broken his nose.

She pulled the ear protectors down so they hung around the back of her neck and asked Trevor, “What are you doing here?”

He pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, “I was on my way home from work when your mother called me. She’s been trying to get you.”

Jill nodded toward her range bag. “My phone’s in there. I didn’t hear it.”

“Yeah, I told Susan that’s what I guessed.”

“There’s not anything wrong, is there?” Jill caught her breath a little. “The kids—”

“The kids are fine. I talked to Bailey just before I left the office.”

“Oh. Okay. What did my mother want, then?”

“Your folks want us to come over for dinner.”

Jill looked down at her outfit: running shoes, yoga pants—she’d never been to a yoga class in her life, but she loved the pants—and T-shirt. “Not like this,” she said. “I’ll have to go home and shower and change.”

“Your parents wouldn’t care.”

“Maybe not, but I would. What’s going on? Is there some sort of urgency about this invitation?”

Trevor shrugged. “I don’t know. Your mom didn’t sound like there was anything wrong , exactly, but she did sound like she and your dad want to talk to us about something.”

“They didn’t just get the urge to have dinner with us and the kids, then.”

Trevor frowned and said, “Actually… she said it would be a good idea if it was just you and me, without Bailey and Chris.”

Jill raised an eyebrow that matched her long, light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had inherited a blend of her father’s dark hair and her mother’s blond.

“No kids? That sounds sort of ominous, don’t you think?”

“Maybe they’ve got some news they don’t want the kids to hear. Like something about… illness, maybe.”

Jill caught her breath. “Oh, God, one of them has cancer.”

“Now, don’t jump to any conclusions—”

“What else could it be?”

“All sorts of things,” Trevor said. “Maybe they’re getting a divorce.”

Jill gave him a disgusted look. “That’s ridiculous. My parents couldn’t last a month without each other, and you know it.”

“Well, that’s the way it seems, but you never know.”

“Yeah. Sometimes you do know.”

“All right, but just because it’s not divorce doesn’t mean it has to be cancer.”

Jill sighed. “I suppose not. There’s only one way to find out. What did you tell her?”

“I told her I’d have to talk to you. I saw your car when I was driving by here and thought it’d be better to stop and let you know now, instead of waiting until we met up at home.”

Jill nodded and said, “Good idea. I’ll call her, just in case she was worried.”

“I think that’d be a good idea.”

“And Bailey can make something for her and Chris for supper.”

“We could see if Marisol can come over—”

“They don’t need a babysitter, Trev. They’re too old for that.”

“Chris is only eight.”

“And Bailey’s twelve. My parents didn’t helicopter me, and I’m not gonna helicopter my kids. They’re going to be self-reliant.”

“Just like their gun-toting mother.”

Jill gave him a look. She didn’t want to have this… argument wasn’t the right word. Discussion, maybe. Trevor wasn’t opposed to guns, and he had never told her she shouldn’t carry one. He just didn’t feel that comfortable with them himself. She had persuaded him to try shooting a few times, and honestly, he wasn’t very good at it. In his case, it was probably better that he didn’t carry.