mentioned a bunker. It would have to have been built
before the Panic so the mechanisms for the door would be old. Dated
text books would help and it seemed like they had.
I read on. The letters became less covert and more open
perhaps as a result of their success in sending them through the
mail system. She'd gotten relaxed after the first few, eager to
share her findings with Alex more easily.
When you come try to bring as many type 5B fuses as you can.
They may be hard to get but I think the old SeaSharks still use
them in their circuits. A lot of the main systems are still offline
and I can't get them back up without the fuses. I suspect the item
is in the lower levels but I can't get down there until you arrive.
Bring the books I asked for as well as the tools and the water
purifier. My source dried up last week - I'm glad I went to the
effort of bottling it now. I have enough to keep me going until you
come but hurry - I won't last long without it and we're so close
now.
When I'd finished reading I put them bag in the bag and sat
there turning the facts over in my mind whilst the G.Is carried on
getting louder and louder. I suddenly fancied a beer but I couldn't
face a crowd like that. I hadn't realised how much time I'd spent
on my own and how I'd gotten used to the silence. Now it was like
the racket was personal, that it was aimed at me. I knew it wasn't,
but it felt like it was and I wanted to get out of
there.
I led out flat on the cot and put my hands behind my head
trying to find a thought to concentrate on. I'd need a map of all
the bunkers the US knew of which might not be that extensive. How
much information had been shared towards those last few days? How
much did they already know? The leaders hadn't made it to some
underground bunker when the missiles rained. Why not?
I thought about my Dad and his library of notebooks. Perhaps
there'd be something in those hand-written volumes I could use. I
decided that in the morning I'd set off home after speaking to the
Colonel.
I dimmed the lamp and tried to sleep. My mind was scattered
and fragmented and I let my thoughts flit from memory to fiction to
fantasy and back again. Ideas tumbled down a never-ending spiral,
grasping at others, making strange connections until I was shocked
awake by one of those weird falling dreams.
Dad's library. He'd filled a few shelves with notes about his
life in the wilds after the Panic. Notes on growing veg, on smoking
meat, storing food for winter, brewing alcohol, trees, shrubs,
plants, geography, small maps of key areas, danger spots. The list
went on. How many had I read? Not as many as I should have done.
There were bound to be maps of the bunkers, surely?
I dozed a little but before I knew it I was awake again
though this time I didn't need a lamp. Light was streaming in from
under the door and there was a loud knocking on it.
“ Miller? You in there?” It was Riley and the dead were
probably wondering who'd woken them.
“ Yeah,” I mumbled.
“ The Colonel wants to see us. You decent?” I realised I'd
fallen asleep in my clothes, hammock fashion.
“ Yeah, come in.”
I was momentarily blinded as she swung the door open and let
the morning in. She was carrying a cup of coffee in her hand and
wedged in her mouth was a piece of toast. She bit into it and held
the rest in her free hand.
“ Breakfast is up,” she said, still loud enough to shatter
glass.
“ I'm coming,” I said, gathering up my things and repacking my
bag. Riley watched me with a smirk.
“ Do you live out of that old thing?” she asked, pointing at
the rucksack with the corner of her toast.
“ Sort of,” I replied.
“ It looks fucked, pal.”
“ It's fine.”
“ No, seriously man - it's fucked. Why don't you get one from
the stores or something?”
I stood up and my back cracked almost as loudly as Riley's
talking.
“ Woah!” she cried. “You okay?”
“ Yeah, I just don't do beds.”
“ Really? What the fuck do
before the Panic so the mechanisms for the door would be old. Dated
text books would help and it seemed like they had.
I read on. The letters became less covert and more open
perhaps as a result of their success in sending them through the
mail system. She'd gotten relaxed after the first few, eager to
share her findings with Alex more easily.
When you come try to bring as many type 5B fuses as you can.
They may be hard to get but I think the old SeaSharks still use
them in their circuits. A lot of the main systems are still offline
and I can't get them back up without the fuses. I suspect the item
is in the lower levels but I can't get down there until you arrive.
Bring the books I asked for as well as the tools and the water
purifier. My source dried up last week - I'm glad I went to the
effort of bottling it now. I have enough to keep me going until you
come but hurry - I won't last long without it and we're so close
now.
When I'd finished reading I put them bag in the bag and sat
there turning the facts over in my mind whilst the G.Is carried on
getting louder and louder. I suddenly fancied a beer but I couldn't
face a crowd like that. I hadn't realised how much time I'd spent
on my own and how I'd gotten used to the silence. Now it was like
the racket was personal, that it was aimed at me. I knew it wasn't,
but it felt like it was and I wanted to get out of
there.
I led out flat on the cot and put my hands behind my head
trying to find a thought to concentrate on. I'd need a map of all
the bunkers the US knew of which might not be that extensive. How
much information had been shared towards those last few days? How
much did they already know? The leaders hadn't made it to some
underground bunker when the missiles rained. Why not?
I thought about my Dad and his library of notebooks. Perhaps
there'd be something in those hand-written volumes I could use. I
decided that in the morning I'd set off home after speaking to the
Colonel.
I dimmed the lamp and tried to sleep. My mind was scattered
and fragmented and I let my thoughts flit from memory to fiction to
fantasy and back again. Ideas tumbled down a never-ending spiral,
grasping at others, making strange connections until I was shocked
awake by one of those weird falling dreams.
Dad's library. He'd filled a few shelves with notes about his
life in the wilds after the Panic. Notes on growing veg, on smoking
meat, storing food for winter, brewing alcohol, trees, shrubs,
plants, geography, small maps of key areas, danger spots. The list
went on. How many had I read? Not as many as I should have done.
There were bound to be maps of the bunkers, surely?
I dozed a little but before I knew it I was awake again
though this time I didn't need a lamp. Light was streaming in from
under the door and there was a loud knocking on it.
“ Miller? You in there?” It was Riley and the dead were
probably wondering who'd woken them.
“ Yeah,” I mumbled.
“ The Colonel wants to see us. You decent?” I realised I'd
fallen asleep in my clothes, hammock fashion.
“ Yeah, come in.”
I was momentarily blinded as she swung the door open and let
the morning in. She was carrying a cup of coffee in her hand and
wedged in her mouth was a piece of toast. She bit into it and held
the rest in her free hand.
“ Breakfast is up,” she said, still loud enough to shatter
glass.
“ I'm coming,” I said, gathering up my things and repacking my
bag. Riley watched me with a smirk.
“ Do you live out of that old thing?” she asked, pointing at
the rucksack with the corner of her toast.
“ Sort of,” I replied.
“ It looks fucked, pal.”
“ It's fine.”
“ No, seriously man - it's fucked. Why don't you get one from
the stores or something?”
I stood up and my back cracked almost as loudly as Riley's
talking.
“ Woah!” she cried. “You okay?”
“ Yeah, I just don't do beds.”
“ Really? What the fuck do
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