Unlike our shelter, much of the equipment at the base remained intact. The daily upkeep of soldiers past meant that the machines were in good working use. Most of them only required minor repairs or updates. The base had a comprehensive surface to air missile defense grid, a few aircraft that carried passengers, and a multitude of drones and unmanned aerial vehicles that they utilized daily to keep an eye on the machines living only a few klicks away. Much of the machinery had been converted to use electricity as a fuel source. Any remnants of fossil fuels were long useless, dried and crusted to the inside of gas tanks.
The hydroponics in the base were an absolute dream come true. Some kind soul had seen fit to ensure my oil palm DNA mixture into refrigeration as soon as we arrived. Fields upon fields of plants sat at my disposal. There was even a supply of wheat. Apparently seitan was a favorite dish among the population. The shelter had the same 3D printing capabilities we had but given the abundance of fresh food, they were rarely used. I was offered a rare treat as a welcome gift by the botanists—a salad. The crunch of fresh greens and snap of vegetables was a nearly religious experience. As soon as I was finished eating I threw myself into the work. The plants I had already altered were repotted in fresh soil where they would be nurtured with a nutrient rich lamp. It was remedial to get back to work. The aches and pains of my injury were fading away ever so slowly and I relished the chance to take my mind away from the horrors of the journey.
I was just wrapping up for the day when the floor underneath me shook. I took it for a dizzy spell and shook my head to clear it. The ground stopped moving for a moment but the next minute the shaking was worse. That’s when the alarms started.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The alarms were deafening. Each blare was accompanied by blinding flashes from the lights mounted on every wall. A voice came over the speakers instructing everyone to abandon their tasks and proceed to one of the shelter’s sub levels. The ones who lived here lead the evacuation; orderly lines were formed and everyone proceeded down endless sets of staircases toward the shelter’s bomb-proof bunker. I was still a little rickety on my feet, having spent the last half week learning how to live with just one ear. Luckily Marcus had found me on his way to the staircase. He wrapped an arm underneath my arms to form a strong support. If I stumbled, his hands would be right there to grab me. Halfway down the bombs started. You could feel the very concrete that made up the shelter shake; whatever they were dropping above penetrated deeply. After every impact screams echoed through the large shaft, but the lines never stopped moving. Anyone frozen by fear or confusion was aided by the people next to them.
The steps seemed unending and I was feeling dizzy. When I stumbled over my own feet and nearly slammed myself face first into the wall, Marcus had enough. He said something to me but it was impossible to hear over the noise of the alarms and the impacts of the bombs above. He realized my deafness and took matters into his own hands, scooping me into his arms as easily as if I were a child. I shut my eyes and let him carry me down.
“Make way! Make way! Wounded here!” Somehow my son’s voice penetrated the chaos and people moved aside for us. One of the bombs must have tripped the fire suppression system because water poured down on us, a rain that made it even harder to see. I shut my eyes and held on for dear life. Eventually we came to a huge steel door. Marcus carried me through and found our set of bunks. He placed me down on the bed. “I’m going to find Momma. She’s probably up there looking for you.”
God, I hoped not. Endless crowds of people filed into the bunker behind me. You could tell who lived here their whole lives versus the newcomers by the way they comported themselves. David mentioned that sheltering drills were common here. The inhabitants of my shelter tried to stay calm and follow protocol but there was an unmistakable animal panic that shone from their eyes. The bombs kept coming. I thought of the field above, now scorched and burned by the blasts. The ground above us must have resembled a kind of hellscape. I felt for the creatures who would perish as a result of our actions. My concern for the fuzzy creatures was cut short by the announcement that the oxygen vents were closing. This was to protect the population from a possible biological or chemical attack and wouldn’t affect our breathing for the duration. That didn’t make me feel better. I tried to take shallow breaths.
A family moved into the bunk spaces next to us. While the parents were busy unpacking the minimum number of personal belongings they were allowed to take with them, a little girl sat on the bed. Her father wrapped her in a blanket and then returned to the task at hand. The child couldn’t have been much older than four. Her thumb was stuck firmly in her mouth and
