The last bunker, p.1
The Last Bunker, page 1
part #4 of EMP Survivor Series
THE LAST BUNKER
JAMES HUNT
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
About the Author
1
The visible marks along Damien’s face and body were scars from his past. The doctors had done what they could, but the burns were severe. Ever since then, he’d always kept his face covered. It allowed him to move in the shadows, hiding in the darkness. But when he was alone, he would stare at the monstrous reflection in the mirror and think of only one thing: revenge.
It had only been a few days since the EMP was detonated. It never ceased to amaze Damien how quickly people turned on one another for so little. People were now being murdered in the streets over cans of food or water. There was no longer law and order to keep the peace, and based on the destruction, Damien wondered if it would ever return. But even disasters presented opportunities if you knew where to look.
Damien had waited a long time for this moment. The planning and preparation had taken years. And if not for the EMP, it would have been another year before everything was in place, but the EMP had expedited his timeline.
The facility Damien needed to infiltrate wasn’t on any map, but it was located on the far outskirts of a small town in Washington. The site was marked as top secret, but Damien’s prior affiliations with the FBI had granted him access to view those files.
The EMP had taken its toll even in this remote, rural area. The town outside where the facility was located had been abandoned and looted. Nothing was left but shattered windows, broken doors, and inoperable vehicles.
Damien hadn’t come here looking for survivors. He had come here searching for the top-secret government facility on the town’s outskirts.
Damien pushed through thick woods and uphill climbs until he reached a clearing the size of a football field. At the center of this field was a small concrete structure no larger than a typical backyard shed.
The entrance was unguarded, but unlike everything else in the country, the electric keypad on the door was operational. Damien entered the key, and the door opened to reveal a spiral staircase. Damien peered inside, aiming his rifle into the darkness below, and waited.
Damien heard no footsteps, no alarms. It was as quiet down below as it was in the field behind him, maybe even more so. Damien reached into his pack and grabbed his gas mask, knowing that what was stored below was more dangerous than any bullet.
Gas mask secure, Damien raised his rifle and began his tactful descent underground. There was a reason the facility was buried so deep. Certain powerful officials didn’t want what was down here to escape, but Damien had come here as a liberator.
When Damien reached the bottom floor, he found a massive hallway large enough to fit a semi-truck, with doors lined on either side.
Undeterred by the lack of security, Damien pushed forward. He had obtained the facility’s blueprints before the EMP, so he knew where to look. He also knew that despite the surface not having power, the facility beneath his feet still ran like clockwork.
Damien traveled through a maze of hallways. He passed offices, meeting rooms, and a living quarter, checking thoroughly to ensure no one was left inside.
The fact that Damien found no sign of life was a concern because he feared that if the facility had been evacuated, the materials stored in this facility might have been moved as well.
Damien didn’t dare take off his mask for fear the air was contaminated. Because what he searched for was deadlier than any EMP strike.
Eventually, Damien reached the sealed vault that held his prize. He stared down at the biometric scan, which could only be accessed by approved staff with top security clearance, but Damien already had a workaround for this obstacle.
Damien removed the fingerprints he obtained from the former lead scientist at the facility and pressed them against the scanner.
Damien held his breath as the scanner analyzed the prints, then turned green in acceptance, and the lock disengaged. Damien shouldered his rifle and then pulled the heavy door open. But when he stepped inside, he found it empty.
“No,” Damien said, his heavy panting causing his mask to fog. “No, no, no!”
The shelves were barren, and the vials he needed to enact his plan had vanished. He searched high and low, but there was nothing left. It was all gone.
Enraged, Damien heaved one of the shelving units off the wall and smashed it to the floor. He kicked the metal, denting the thin sheets with each powerful blow. Once the anger subsided, he stumbled backward and rested against the wall. He couldn’t believe all of this was happening to him. All the planning, all the work, all of it done for nothing.
Damien should have gone with his original plan and put a bullet in his enemy’s head. But he believed a quick death was too merciful. The man who had killed Damien’s team deserved a slow, painful death.
Damien stood, and when he stepped out of the vault, a noise caught his attention down the hallway. Not wanting to wait for an ambush, Damien pressed forward, moving toward the nose with tactical mobility. Damien traced the noise to an office with the lights off. He flicked on the lights, and the moment they turned on, a pair of hands shot up from behind the desk.
“Don’t shoot!”
Damien had trained his reflexes to respond to anything and everything that might appear in front of him, and the man behind the desk was lucky Damien showed restraint. “Stand up slowly,” Damien ordered.
The man behind the desk did as he was told, and when he stood up, Damien realized he was one of the facility’s staff members. “I don’t want any trouble,” the man said.
He was tall and gangly, with a three-day stubble on his face and some stains on his white jacket.
“Where is everyone?” Damien asked.
“They evacuated,” the man answered. “Yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Damien asked.
“Have you seen what’s happening up there?” the guy asked, incredulous. “People are losing their minds. It’s safer down here. The facility has enough backup power to survive at least a year with an entire staff, so one person could live here for a long time by themselves.”
“Where are the vials?” Damien asked. “From the vault.”
“I-I-I don’t know,” he answered. “They were taken when the facility was evacuated.”
“Where?” Damien asked, stepping closer to intimidate the man, but he was already shaking in his boots. “Where?”
“They didn’t tell me!” the man shouted, throwing his hands up again and doing everything submissive besides rolling over and showing Damien his belly.
Damien grunted in frustration, but he lowered his weapon. This man wasn’t a threat, but he could still be helpful.
“Do you have a way to contact the team who left?” Damien asked, and then only slightly raised his rifle. “I want the right answer.”
“Um, y-yes, I think there is,” he said. “What are you looking for?”
Damien had done extensive research on this facility and knew it was the only one in the country. They specialized in containing and creating cures for infectious diseases. But that was only a cover. There was another mandate the facility had, which was the reason it was so heavily guarded and kept secret. They also weaponized diseases, seeking opportunities to wage biological warfare. And there was one disease they had made here that Damien wanted to use in his revenge plan.
“Vial code seven-zero-nine-eight-three,” Damien answered.
“How do you know about that?” he asked.
“Would they have taken that with them?” Damien asked.
The man stood up, lowering his hands as he became more relaxed. “Another section of this facility houses our more experimental vials. They didn’t take those with them. I was tasked with destroying them.”
“For your sake, I hope you didn’t,” Damien said.
“They were my life’s work,” he replied. “It took years to design, study, and create a vaccine for the weapon we created, so, no, I didn’t destroy it.”
“Give it to me,” Damien said.
“Do you know what it will do?” he asked. “Unleashing that kind of disease could be catastrophic.”
“Have you taken a look outside, Doctor?” Damien asked. “The world’s already destroyed. But I’m not looking to hurt the world.”
Damien lowered his weapon and then removed his gas mask, exposing his face to the horror of the man behind the desk. The burn marks had healed, but the scars that lingered were hideous. The doctors had done what they could, but only so much could their medicine accomplish. “All I care a bout is hurting the man who turned me into this!”
2
“We need to aerate the soil.” Charlie Owens poked his hands into the dirt, rubbing the sandy, black sediment between his fingers. “The island isn’t going to have the same rich soil we have on the mainland. It’s going to be rocky and tough. We’ll need to clear this patch quickly to have it ready to plant seed before the end of spring.”
They were clearing the protected forest area of the island between the central part of Beckett Island, where the locals lived and Charlie’s family’s compound on the opposite end. He had bought the land a few years back and created a homestead in case his family ever needed a location to bug out. And after the EMP, Charlie was glad to have it.
Behind Charlie, watching him inspect the land, was the group of islanders who had been put on farm duty. Beckett Island had escaped the harshest of the damage done by the EMP three months ago, but they hadn’t gone entirely unscathed. There would be difficult choices that needed to be made, and hard work was still ahead of them, but with Charlie’s prepper knowledge, he had managed to salvage the island and keep it self-sufficient.
It didn’t hurt that most of the islanders were fishermen, drawing their bounty from the sea, providing plenty of food for themselves, and rationing and storing for the harsh winter. It would have been easy to rest on their laurels, but Charlie didn’t want anyone on the island to become complacent. Their survival depended on staying ahead of the next disaster.
“The entire island is nothing but rock.” Burt Mayfield was one of the more outspoken islanders of Beckett Island. “Why can’t we just keep using the above-ground beds?”
“Because we need to maximize the island’s space more efficiently,” Charlie answered. “We only have so much space, and if we want to grow enough crops to take care of ourselves and set up trade with other communities, then we need more space to grow crops than those planters can provide.”
“I just don’t—”
“You don’t want to do it because it’s hard,” Charlie said. “The only way we survive moving forward is if we do the hard things now so we don’t have to do them later. Right now, things are good. I know that, and it’s easy to let those good times get the better of you, but I’m here to ensure that doesn’t happen. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
The island had survived this long due in part to Charlie’s planning, and his voice had earned a special place in the residents’ hearts and minds. But Charlie didn’t need people to like him; he needed them to listen and follow the agreed-upon rules.
“No,” Burt said. “We don’t have a problem, Charlie.”
“Good,” Charlie said, gesturing to the acre of land they had sectioned off. “This is the most viable land to use for farming. Get it cleared; get it ready. We have a week.”
Charlie didn’t wait for anyone else to come forward to complain and instead let them get to work. He had other matters he needed to attend to.
It had taken a lot of hard work and long hours, but the island was on the cusp of a turning point in sustainability. Charlie didn’t want to get his hopes up because he knew how quickly things could change. And those thoughts were brought to fruition when Tanner approached.
“We need to talk,” Tanner said, matching Charlie’s quick strides back toward town.
“Can it wait?” Charlie asked.
“I’m beginning to think you avoid me because you know I’m only going to tell you the truth,” Tanner said.
“If by the truth you mean bad news, then yes,” Charlie said. “What’s wrong?”
“I received a radio message,” Tanner said.
“From whom?” Charlie asked, the pair still walking.
“From the secure Bunker channel,” Tanner said.
Charlie stepped away from the group of islanders, and Tanner followed, so they could speak in private.
“That’s impossible,” Charlie said, keeping his voice low.
“I know,” Tanner said. “Which is why I wanted to tell you about it. We need to come up with a plan.”
“Why were you even monitoring that channel in the first place?” Charlie asked. “The Bunker is destroyed, and everyone who worked there has been eliminated.”
“It doesn’t have to be someone from the Bunker,” Tanner said.
“But you just said—”
“I think someone is using the channel to reach out to you,” Tanner said.
“To me?” Charlie asked.
“Whoever sent the radio transmission mentioned you by name,” Tanner answered.
Charlie’s past had afforded him no shortage of enemies, but he had believed he’d dispatched the credible threats. “What did the message say?” Charlie asked. “Did it mention anything specific?”
Tanner had never been one to mince words or hold back, which made his hesitation all the more confusing and worrisome.
“Spit it out,” Charlie said.
“It’s an evacuation order,” Tanner answered. “A warning. Whoever sent it says we have less than twenty-four hours to vacate the island, or it will be destroyed.”
Charlie frowned. “And?”
“And there were coordinates and instructions for you to meet the message’s sender,” Tanner answered.
Charlie stepped away from Tanner, turning his back to him while he processed what to do next. He had no way of knowing how credible this treat was without investigating it himself. But he had buried that part of his life, blown it up. Or so he’d thought.
“What are you thinking?” Tanner asked, studying his old colleague closely.
Charlie didn’t dare speak the thoughts running through his head aloud, not that he believed he could frighten Tanner.
But to speak Charlie’s thoughts aloud would give power to a man Charlie knew was dead, and he had wasted too much time on his past. Whatever time remained for him, he wanted to focus on the future.
But it seemed the past wasn’t done with Charlie Owens, no matter how much he wanted to be done with it.
“There’s something else,” Tanner said. “Something I wanted to show you.”
“What?” Charlie asked.
“Follow me,” Tanner said.
Tanner brought Charlie back to his house on the outskirts of the town. The mobile home had belonged to one of Sheriff Thompson’s cousins but had been vacant since he died a few years back. They’d had to clean it up a little, but Charlie didn’t think Tanner minded the minimalistic style.
Tanner had built his own small workshop in the basement beneath the mobile home, and when Charlie descended the steps, he found more than just the radio.
“What are you doing with that?” Charlie asked.
The device on the table was part of a top-secret military plan devised by a madman who wanted to control the world and everyone in it. But Charlie and Tanner had stopped him.
“It’s a project I’m working on,” Tanner answered. “In fact, I was hoping to have Benji help me with it.”
“I don’t want my son near that thing,” Charlie said.
“Hear me out—”
“I said no, Tanner,” Charlie said.
Tanner placed his hands on his hips and then bowed his head. “I understand your hesitation.”
“Do you?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” Tanner answered. “And I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think it was pertinent. We are living in dangerous times, and we need ways to protect us. I want Benji to help me figure out how to reverse engineer that thing so we can create another Phoenix device.”
“I thought you said we were putting all that behind us,” Charlie said.
Tanner walked to a nearby chair and sat down. It was rare for Charlie to see his old friend in such a state. He was a man who always had the answers. But for the first time since Charlie had known him, Tanner looked lost.
