Jacqueline Druga - Protocol One

“We just have to find them,” Tony said.

“Or have them find us,” Tom’s voice dropped and he turned his chair. “What have we here?”

We all looked at the monitor feed from the scope.

Clearly someone was climbing the fence. When we caught the image, they dropped a bag. It was a smaller person, possibly a woman.

“Turn the scope,” Tony said. “Check the entire perimeter fence.”

The camera scope rotated to a panoramic view.

“Only at the front,” Tom reported.

“There’s more than one,” I said. “I can’t make out how many. They’re rippling.”

“Heat waves,” Peter explained. “They probably jumped from basement to basement making their way here. This place was public knowledge. An old silo.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“In.” Tony answered. “The gate, main doors and hatch are all manual. Just in case we lose power. Is the hatch secure?” he asked Tom with some urgency.

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ll radio Skyler…”

“No.” Tom opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a revolver, then a radio. “I can make it to the hatch faster than Sky. He’s below. Pete. Monitor this, keep us posted.”

“Will do.” Peter took over Tom’s chair.

Tony reached down and turned on his radio. “I’ll head to the blast doors. Keep me posted if they get close, because I know for a fact that’s not locked.”

Tony raced out as I called his name.

“How many are out there?” I asked Peter.

Peter moved his hand over the screen. “Ten, twelve. Hard to say. There may be children, or they could just be their bags. The fence climber is opening the gate. Must be hot.”

I watched the screen, the person reached for the lock and jumped back. Upon seeing that, I raced from the switch room.

I knew what my goal was. Going after Tony, I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I reached the top and emerged into the bay, I heard Tom’s radio call.

“Hatch is secure.”

Then Peter’s voice. “They’re through the gate.”

It took a moment for me to catch my breath. The air was hot in the bay, I couldn’t even imagine what it was like outside.

I approached Tony.

He turned from the doors and walked my way. “No worries. They’re on the property, but they won’t get in. Doors are locked.”

I walked right by him.

“What are you doing?” His voice squeaked.

There were three heavy bolt latches that ran across the door. I shifted the first one.

“Anna.”

I shifted the second one.

“Anna.” He grabbed my hand. “What are you doing?”

“Letting them in.” I struggled with the third latch.

“You can’t do that.”

“This place is big…” I grunted. “It’s big enough. We have more than enough resources. You know that.”

“What we have isn’t my concern. It’s what is beyond that door. They broke in.”

“What were they supposed to do, Tony? Knock? Ring a bell? If we don’t let them in, they will die out there.”

“Is that really our problem?”

“There may be children out there.’

“We don’t know that.”

“I won’t risk it. You said, my house, my rules.” The last latch was really stuck and in my frustration I blasted. “Now help me open this goddamn door!”

“Fine!” Tony yelled back. “You’re making a mistake.” He freed the lock.

Without thinking, I grabbed the door.

“Anna, don’t open it…”

I should have waited for what he was saying because when I slid open the door, a blast of heat hit me like none I have ever felt. Obviously, he was giving me a warning.

I literally could not breathe. It was impossible to inhale or exhale. Tony yanked me back from the door and covered his mouth and nose with his shirt and moved back.

“Hurry. Make it quick!” Tony yelled out.

Once I was far enough away from the heat, I was able to catch my breath. When I did, I saw the people filing in. They were as apprehensive about entering as Tony was about letting them inside.

There were eleven and three of them were children.

Tony shut the door.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” a woman said.

They stood there silently. Scared, dirty and covered with black, their clothes were tattered and they had burns. Many had burns that were fresh.

I looked at Tony who was studying them as if looking for a reason not to trust them.

“Come with me, we’ll take you below,” I said.

Taking a step forward, Tony grabbed my arm and whispered. “This was a mistake.”

“Then it was my mistake.” I started to walk and he stopped me again. “What?” I asked.

He looked at them, then at me. “I’m not giving up my room.”

With a shake of my head in disbelief, I walked from Tony and led the pack of survivors downstairs.

Things had calmed down a lot by early evening. Not that there were a ton of people, but we had just doubled our population. Joie was ecstatic to see children to play with. But play time would have to wait. Our new comers weren’t well.

It was my decision to let them in. Tony was verbal about his dismay; a couple of the others gave me glances but didn’t say a word. I realized since I had made the choice then I had to be the one to show it could work and it was the best choice.

Nelly made a huge kettle of soup and it went far, feeding everyone.

I wasn’t really that hungry, but I ate because I needed to. I also needed to start organizing. For some reason people looked to me to run the bunker, because it was designed for me. I wanted to hand that task over to Tony, but seeing how I was never one to shirk my responsibilities, I would do the best I could.

That would start with getting a grip on the situation.

Setting rules was something I’d work on.

I asked Peter if by chance he had an extra laptop. He did not. I told him Jackson had brought his tablet, but I was fearful of losing all the music my son had created and recorded on there.

Peter borrowed the tablet and when he returned it, he told me it was safe. The music was wiped and stored.

I felt relieved. I had used Jackson’s tablet before and was familiar with it, but I had forgotten what his wallpaper was.

When I swiped the screen my heart skipped a beat. A smiling picture of my son greeted me and in it were Gil and I. It was just taken just a few weeks earlier at Jackson’s musical.

After dinner and after everyone had settled into their rooms, I sat at the back table in the dining area, turning off the windows so I wouldn’t get distracted.

I used only one light, that was all I needed. I sipped some brandy as I reviewed the manuscript that Melissa had given me.

“That was done by a dietician,” Melissa explained as she sat across from me. “It lists everything we have in storage below and on the floors. Everything. There’s a flash drive in that book. I don’t know if it was affected by the EMP because it was here in the bunker. But if you can get that information on that tablet, that will help.”

“I’ll have Peter take a look at it. If not, I’ll start keying in the info.” I looked up at her. “It will take my mind off of things.”

“I’ll help. One key thing is we have to really start keeping track. We can not have a realistic ration plan and outlook if we don’t keep track of what we use.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Inventory what is here in the kitchen and then mark off what we take to fill the kitchen. Usage in the kitchen doesn’t need to be documented, that is nickel and diming and will drive us all nuts.”

“Says here…” I flipped through the book. “Suggested Rations for three plus years for fifteen people.”