contractor, and his employer did a lot of stuff for the government.”
“So he’s a mercenary? Why are you friends with him anyway?” Vanessa was very left wing when it came to politics.
“No, Vanessa, he’s not a mercenary, not anymore at least. He doesn’t work for that company anymore. Look, I don’t have time to explain all of this right now. Can you please just come over so that we can talk?”
“Okay, fine.” she said, “I’ll let my boss know, and I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Alright. See you soon. Bye.” I hung up and put my cell phone in my pocket.
I lived on the north side of Charlotte, and it would take a while for Vanessa to get up there. I had things to do in the mean time. I found a three ring binder in my file cabinet left over from my college days. It had ‘STATISTICS’ written in permanent marker across the front cover. I clipped the document Gabe emailed me into it and went out the back door to my garage. I got my crowbar from a hanger on the wall inside the garage, and took it behind the building to one of the two hidden entrances to my emergency shelter.
Shortly after Gabe told me about his work with Aegis, he gave me a brochure for the company that installed a smaller version of my survival shelter on his property. He suggested that I build one of my own. I took his advice. If you were to remove all of the dirt from my back yard, you would see two things that look like oversized shipping containers standing side by side with a short tunnel connecting them, kind of like a giant H. The containers are made of galvanized steel covered with a thick coat of fiberglass to prevent corrosion. They are set into a concrete foundation, and surrounded by gravel up to the roof, which is three feet under the surface of my lawn. One of them is finished to look like the interior of a small two-bedroom house, albeit with exposed wiring and plumbing, and the other is a storage unit.
The company that installed these things dug one hell of a big hole in my back yard to pour in the foundation. The shelter compartments were mostly prefabricated and assembled onsite. It took the workers about two weeks to dig the hole, pour the foundation, install the shelter, wire everything up, and connect the plumbing. They also installed my solar panels and small wind turbines. It had been an impressive operation to watch. I had an identical backup shelter installed behind my other house outside of Morganton, not far from Gabriel’s place. I usually drove up there once every couple of weeks to clean it and update the inventory.
One of the entrances to the shelter was under a shallow concrete slab beneath the back door to the garage. The construction company that installed the slab had designed it to be heavy, but manageable. It had enough bulk to keep most people from trying to move it, but was light enough that I could lift it if need be. The back entrance was only seven feet from the surrounding tree line, and littered with scraps of wood, metal, broken cinder blocks, and fallen tree limbs.
I set the binder on the ground, and put the lever end of the crowbar under the slab and pushed down. The slab didn’t move, and the crowbar sank into the dirt. I put the crowbar down and looked around for something to use as a fulcrum. Near the tree line, I found a short length of two by four left over from when I had the garage built. I put the two by four under the bar, and this time when I put my weight on it, the bottom edge of the slab lifted a few inches above the ground. I put my foot on the bar to hold it down, and used both hands to lift the slab. It was heavy, but I managed to get it upright. The slab was attached a sturdy hinge that could hold it up once lifted. Underneath the slab was the entrance to the shelter.
The handle used to lift the hatch, and the bar that propped up the slab, recessed into the cover so that the slab lay flush against it. I lifted the bar and wedged it into a notch in the
“So he’s a mercenary? Why are you friends with him anyway?” Vanessa was very left wing when it came to politics.
“No, Vanessa, he’s not a mercenary, not anymore at least. He doesn’t work for that company anymore. Look, I don’t have time to explain all of this right now. Can you please just come over so that we can talk?”
“Okay, fine.” she said, “I’ll let my boss know, and I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Alright. See you soon. Bye.” I hung up and put my cell phone in my pocket.
I lived on the north side of Charlotte, and it would take a while for Vanessa to get up there. I had things to do in the mean time. I found a three ring binder in my file cabinet left over from my college days. It had ‘STATISTICS’ written in permanent marker across the front cover. I clipped the document Gabe emailed me into it and went out the back door to my garage. I got my crowbar from a hanger on the wall inside the garage, and took it behind the building to one of the two hidden entrances to my emergency shelter.
Shortly after Gabe told me about his work with Aegis, he gave me a brochure for the company that installed a smaller version of my survival shelter on his property. He suggested that I build one of my own. I took his advice. If you were to remove all of the dirt from my back yard, you would see two things that look like oversized shipping containers standing side by side with a short tunnel connecting them, kind of like a giant H. The containers are made of galvanized steel covered with a thick coat of fiberglass to prevent corrosion. They are set into a concrete foundation, and surrounded by gravel up to the roof, which is three feet under the surface of my lawn. One of them is finished to look like the interior of a small two-bedroom house, albeit with exposed wiring and plumbing, and the other is a storage unit.
The company that installed these things dug one hell of a big hole in my back yard to pour in the foundation. The shelter compartments were mostly prefabricated and assembled onsite. It took the workers about two weeks to dig the hole, pour the foundation, install the shelter, wire everything up, and connect the plumbing. They also installed my solar panels and small wind turbines. It had been an impressive operation to watch. I had an identical backup shelter installed behind my other house outside of Morganton, not far from Gabriel’s place. I usually drove up there once every couple of weeks to clean it and update the inventory.
One of the entrances to the shelter was under a shallow concrete slab beneath the back door to the garage. The construction company that installed the slab had designed it to be heavy, but manageable. It had enough bulk to keep most people from trying to move it, but was light enough that I could lift it if need be. The back entrance was only seven feet from the surrounding tree line, and littered with scraps of wood, metal, broken cinder blocks, and fallen tree limbs.
I set the binder on the ground, and put the lever end of the crowbar under the slab and pushed down. The slab didn’t move, and the crowbar sank into the dirt. I put the crowbar down and looked around for something to use as a fulcrum. Near the tree line, I found a short length of two by four left over from when I had the garage built. I put the two by four under the bar, and this time when I put my weight on it, the bottom edge of the slab lifted a few inches above the ground. I put my foot on the bar to hold it down, and used both hands to lift the slab. It was heavy, but I managed to get it upright. The slab was attached a sturdy hinge that could hold it up once lifted. Underneath the slab was the entrance to the shelter.
The handle used to lift the hatch, and the bar that propped up the slab, recessed into the cover so that the slab lay flush against it. I lifted the bar and wedged it into a notch in the
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