“How’s this?” Titus asked, easing the van to a stop tucked well into the trees.
“A bit further,” Thorne said, waving him on. The branches were in close now, some scraping against the outside. A draping of stringy Spanish moss ran across the windshield as Titus really squeezed them in tight.
“Perfect,” Thorne said when the branches scraping on the side sounded like they’d started taking the paint off. “Shut her down and grab your stuff. We’re hiking from here.”
“This is it?” Kaiden stared at the entrance to the bunker and slapped at a mosquito making a feast of his elbow.
“Doesn’t look like much,” Titus agreed.
“That’s the point, guys,” Zelda said, rolling her eyes. Thorne had to suppress a smirk. That was very much the point. Realistically, she’d hadn’t expected to ever truly need the bunker, and she’d definitely never thought she might bring others to it. But now they were here, she found she was actually eager to show off her hard work, and maybe just the slightest bit proud. Sure, they were all fugitives at the center of the massive manhunt, but she’d prepped this bunker, bit by bit, on her days off for years now. She had been ready for war, famine or nuclear winter. All that preparation, all that paranoia, was finally about to pay off. It was a good feeling. Although, she had never expected to use it to hide from the Party itself.
“What is this place, anyway?” Kaiden asked, looking around at the small island. Though, it wasn’t really an island so much as an acre or so of ground that was raised enough above its surroundings that it didn’t flood every time it rained. Or rather, didn’t flood entirely.
“The bunker’s an old remnant from the Test,” Thorne explained, pushing through palm fronds and Spanish moss as she approached the entrance. “There’s hundreds of them scattered throughout the country. Nearly all have been abandoned.”
“Uh, yeah. I can see why,” Titus said, waving away a banana spider the size of his hand.
“I’ve heard of these places,” Zelda said, sticking close to Titus and letting his larger frame push the spider webs out of the way. “But they’re super bare-bones, just designed as temporary shelter from the bombing raids that were common back then.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve done some work on mine,” Thorne said.
The entrance to the bunker was all that was visible above ground, and it was just a bunch of slate-gray concrete stained slightly green from the various plants and funguses growing up it. The door was metal, but looked just as dull and disused. Intentionally, of course.
Thorne leaned down to the rusty old combination lock. It clicked quietly as she turned the dial first one way, then back the other, then once more back again and stopped on the last digit. The lock came open with a click and the panel it’d been keeping shut slid open with a slight hiss. Thorne entered the quick fourteen-digit code on the keypad contained within, then stepped back with a nod.
The door groaned, bolts retracting inside as the passcode was accepted. A moment later, it swung open on creaky hinges. She’d like to have oiled them, but in the interest of keeping up the bunker’s neglected appearance she’d been forced to leave the hinges in something approaching a state of disrepair.
“It’s a bit damp,” she warned, then led them inside and down the front stairs. “Hard to keep it dehumidified, and being below ground level in a swamp means it’s a constant battle to keep the water out. But the air conditioning keeps it cool, there’s plenty of food, and a fair bit of space.” She gestured to the interior of the bunker like a parent showing off a child.
“Well, look at this,” Kaiden said. “There’s a whole apartment down here.”
“Not bad,” Zelda agreed.
Thorne felt a smile pull at her lips.
“In that corner there’s the kitchen,” she explained, pointing out the minute amount of countertop space, miniature sink, and a few cooking appliances. Really, the appliances were excessive considering the built-in pantry was filled with salvaged army rations that chemically boiled to heat themselves when dunked in water.
“There’s also a low-energy fridge,” she said. “Which is really just a fancy way of saying ‘a box that’s slightly darker and cooler than the rest of the bunker.’ Got some bottled water reserves in there, but most of what’s drinkable comes in through the exterior filtration system. Completely clean, just smells a bit of eggs thanks to all the sulfur in the swamp.”
Thorne turned next to the corner across from the kitchen, which contained what she liked to think of as the living-dining room combo. Really, it was just a big, wooden table pushed up against one wall and with space for four chairs. Only one was set out at present.
“There are more chairs,” she said. “But, well, I wasn’t expecting company, so we’ll have to dig them out of storage.”
The last two corners of the room were taken up by the workspace: a desk she’d laboriously dragged down into the bunker, a few blank notebooks, and her backup VR headset. She’d never really used it – hadn’t exactly slunk off into the deep swamp to work – but being disconnected from her job wasn’t a luxury she’d been afforded. As a full-time warden, if something were to happen, she needed to have access to Nova no matter where she was – at work, at home, or in her hidden swamp bunker.
“We have a steady internet connection here, believe it or not,” she explained. “Had to set up signal boosters in a chain, one every mile, all the way out to the nearest signal relay. Pain in the butt, tell you what. But it works. And unlike your van, everything here is properly shielded. And any incoming or outgoing data is redirected through the next
