Bunkers Page 3

  Mark suddenly had a plan and he was excited to get working on it. Restoring the shelter would take weeks, but he had nothing but time on his hands. He walked back to the house and removed the mud boots. Ten minutes later, Mark was in his pickup truck, heading to Sam’s Club.

  Chapter 4

  The week passed and the following Saturday afternoon, Dottie Kibble threw a going away party for her husband. The driveways of the cul de sac were full of parked cars and even the weather cooperated. The day was full of good food, cold beer, and idle speculation. Many conversations concerned world events, but the neighbors had begun to wonder about Mark SleepingBear. “I haven’t talked to him all week,” said Larry. “But something is going on over there.”

  “I keep telling you guys, he’s moving out,” said Jumbo. “I couldn’t live there, no sir.”

  “Will you stop saying that?” asked Glick. “He’s not moving out, I can guarantee you that. Anita says he’s been getting deliveries all week long.”

  “Really?” asked Jumbo. “I didn’t know that. What kind of deliveries?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “He got some new furniture,” said Tina. “I’m happy for him.”

  “How’s he paying for that?” asked Jumbo. “I heard he quit his job.”

  “I put an invitation on his door,” said Dottie. “I was hoping he’d come over and join us.”

  “He’s probably waiting until things die down,” said Larry. “You can’t blame him. He doesn’t want to be the black cloud that spoils your party.”

  Dottie sighed and nodded her head. “You’re probably right. I never thought of it like that.”

  “This is why we need a neighborhood watch,” said Jumbo. “We don’t know what he’s doing over there. What if he’s dealing drugs or making bombs? Where is he getting his money? I didn’t dish out ten grand for him to buy new furniture.”

  “Put a cork in it, Jumbo,” said Larry. “He probably had some life insurance money, who knows? Who the hell cares? If you’re that worried about it, why don’t you march over there and ask him for your money back?”

  “Maybe I will,” said Jumbo, standing up from his lawn chair and looking at the old house.

  “Sit down,” said Dottie. “This is ridiculous. Leave the poor man alone.”

  “I’m not going to ask for my money back, get serious, will ya? I don’t give a rip what he spent it on. I’m going to walk over there and invite him to the party. He’s my neighbor, too, ya know.”

  “You’re going snooping,” said Tina.

  “What if I am? President Crabtree has asked us to keep an eye on our neighbors and I’m just being a good citizen.”

  “Get back here, Jumbo,” said Larry, but Jumbo pretended not to hear him and he continued walking. His curiosity was piqued and he was determined to find out what his neighbor was up to. He finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle on the Kibble’s lawn.

  “You jerk!” shouted Dottie.

  “Don’t have a cow,” replied Jumbo, shouting back, without turning his head. I’ll pick it up on my way back!”

  Jumbo weaved his way around the parked cars, happy to see that many had come from his own lot. Business was booming, which seemed odd during such uncertain times. He had raised the prices on nearly every car on his lot, but that had only seemed to cause more customers to flock to his lot. The thing that really puzzled him was that most buyers were paying cash. While it did make things much easier, it made him wonder why people spending their money on used cars.

  He strolled down Mark’s driveway, past the old Ford pickup and stepped up onto the front porch. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never knocked on his neighbor’s front door. What did he know about Mark SleepingBear? Jumbo thought about that as he rapped on the door. “Hey Mark,” he called, “open up. It’s me, Jumbo!”

  Jumbo listened, but nothing stirred inside the old house. He knocked again, but with the same results. Jumbo turned to look at the pickup and then he shrugged. “What if he fell and can’t get up?” he asked, out loud.

  Jumbo walked to the porch windows and found the drapes were pulled. He then walked all the way around the house, cupping his hands up to the windows, only to find that all of them were covered on the inside. He returned to the porch and stepped up to the door. He reached down for the handle.

  “What are you doing?” asked Glick, who had suddenly appeared on the lawn.

  “Jesus, Glick, you scared the crap out of me. I think there’s something wrong. What if he’s hurt?”

  “What if he just doesn’t want to see you?”

  Jumbo turned the knob and the door opened a crack. “I’ll take that risk. He can be mad at me, I don’t care.”

  “You’re trespassing.”

  “I’m a concerned neighbor,” said Jumbo, opening the door wide. “Holy shit,” he said. “Get up here and take a look at all of this shit. You want to know where your money went? Check it out.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Jumbo quickly closed the door, but it was too late. He turned to see Mark SleepingBear standing next to Glick. He didn’t look amused. “I thought something had happened to you, like you had an accident or something. I knocked and looked around your property and your truck was here.”

  “So, that gives you permission to go into my house?”

  “Technically, I only opened the door.”

  “Technically, I could have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “I tried to tell him that,” said Glick.

  “What money were you talking about?” asked Mark, narrowing his eyes.

  Glick held up his hands. “You know what?” he asked. “I think I’m going back to the party. Mark, Dottie said she extended you an invitation. I wish you’d join us.”

  “What money are you talking about?”

  “Calm down, big fella,” said Jumbo. He then made a fist and pointed his thumb at his own chin. “We all kicked in on the memorial fund your bank set up,” he then pointed at the other homes on the cul de sec. “Each of us kicked in ten thousand dollars.”

  “I didn’t,” said Glick. “All we could spare was five.”

  “Five thousand dollars?”

  “Yeah, but we gave you that money to spend however you wanted. I don’t give a rip how you chose to spend it.”

  “That’s right,” said Jumbo. “Forget about it, buddy. Looks like you’re one of them prepper people. I guess that means you’re staying put. Good for you. Why don’t you come down to the lot on Monday, I can fix you up with a nice used pickup. That old bucket of bolts looks like it’s on its last breath.”

  “That was my father’s pickup. He bought it brand new.”

  “Jesus Christ, Jumbo, will you stop sticking your foot into your mouth? Mark, come on over to the Kibble’s with us. Everyone would love to see you. Bones leaves on Monday morning.”

  “The poor bastard,” said Jumbo, walking down the stairs. “Mark, I’m really sorry. I thought you might have been hurt, really I did.”

  “I will tell you this only once. Stay out of my house.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Are you going to come over to the party?”

  Mark sighed and nodded his head. “I’m going to take a shower. Tell Dottie that I will be over in about half an hour. I promise.”

  Jumbo studied Mark, his clothes were filthy and his hands were soiled up to his elbows. “What the hell did you get into?” he asked. “You look like you just crawled out of a sewer pipe.”

  “You need to get out of my business,” said Mark. “I will see you both at the party.”

  “I was just asking. Lighten up, buddy.”

  Glick pushed Jumbo in the back. “Come on, get moving. Give the man a little privacy, will ya? He could still have you arrested.”

  Jumbo laughed. “He knows I’m sorry for opening his door. I closed it, didn’t I? See you at the party, dude. Hurry up before all the booze is gone.”

  “Something tells me that the booze is never gone
at your house,” said Mark.

  “And you’d be right to think that!”

  Glick pushed Jumbo again. “See you in a bit,” he said, giving Mark a quick wave.

  Mark watched them go. He waited until they were on the cul de sec before he climbed the stairs and stepped inside his home. He was furious, but mostly with himself. He had envisioned this scenario before he had went out to work on the shelter, but he hadn’t listened to the voice inside his head. That voice had told him to bring the provisions up into one of the empty bedrooms. Now the cat was out of the bag. Mark resisted the urge to kick a case of canned beans.

  He wondered about Jumbo. Would his curiosity carry him off into the woods? What if he stumbled onto the entrance to the shelter? Mark thought about that and shook his head. Jumbo was no woodsman. A guy like him would walk right past his brush-pile and not give it a second look. Still, Jumbo might follow him out into the woods and that was a reason for concern. The one thing his grandfather had drilled into him about the secret shelter was the importance of it remaining a secret. Mark cursed the day the government had stolen his land, only to turn around and sell it to a bumbling oaf like Jumbo Lystrom.

  Still seething, Mark walked upstairs, stripped out of his clothes and took a long shower. The shower helped cool his temper and he quickly dressed. He was hungry and the thought of party food made his stomach growl. He walked downstairs, wondering what he should give to Bones as a gift. The Colt 9 mm was brand new and still in the box. The Model 1911 Defender had cost him nearly twelve hundred dollars, but Mark could easily afford to buy another one. He found a paper sack and set the Colt inside, adding a box of 124 grain hollow point bullets. He then found his checkbook and wrote out four checks, totaling $35,000.00. Mark SleepingBear would be no man’s charity case.

  Bones absolutely loved his gift. They stood out in the garage admiring it while guests grazed the food tables. “I’ve never owned a handgun before,” he confessed. “Can you teach me how to shoot it?”

  “I can do that,” said Mark. “But I didn’t buy it for you to shoot. I bought it for Dottie.”

  Dottie gave Mark a long look. “Why would you buy me a gift?”

  “Do you have a gun in the house?”

  Dottie shook her head. “I’ve always had Bones here to protect me.”

  Bones handed the Colt to Dottie. “He’s right, dear. You should have a gun in the house. These are crazy times.”

  “Desperate,” said Jumbo. “How much did that set you back?”

  Mark pretended not to hear the question and he walked over to the food table and began to fill a plate. He then sat down between Tina and Anita and began to eat. They talked about the warm weather and how nice it was. Tina then pointed to Anita’s stomach. “Anita’s going to have another baby,” she whispered. “But it’s a secret.”

  “Oh my God, Tina, why did you tell him?”

  “Settle down, Anita. Nobody heard me.”

  “Why is it a secret?” whispered Mark.

  “Because she just found out and Anita’s last two pregnancies were miscarriages. She doesn’t want anyone to know until she’s in her second trimester.”

  Mark nodded and continued to eat, wondering why Tina had wanted him to know. “Does your husband know?” he asked.

  The sisters shook their heads. “Just us three,” said Tina, pointing a finger between them.

  Mark smiled. “Well, ladies, I’m honored to be your circle. I promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I know you won’t,” said Tina. “That’s why I told you.”

  “Oh my God, Tina,” whispered Anita. “Will you tell me why you told him?”

  “Are you serious? I had to tell someone.”

  The sisters both laughed at that and they began politely gossiping about the guests. Mark laughed as they told their stories. When they paused to take a breath, he asked them about Jumbo, who was standing ten feet away. “He must do pretty well for himself,” he said, casually.

  “Oh my God,” whispered Anita. “He’s a millionaire.”

  Tina nodded her head. “He was hoping you’d sell your house and move away. I know he wanted to buy it.”

  “As an investment,” said Anita, softly. “I’m pretty sure he only wanted your property.”

  “Well, it would be a cold day in hell before I ever sold out to Jumbo Lystrom,” said Mark, in a voice that carried over the chatter. Jumbo turned and stared at him, having obviously heard the comment.

  A moment passed, before Jumbo walked over and sat down at their table. “Did I just hear my name?” he asked.

  The garage grew quiet as everyone stared at Jumbo, but the moment quickly passed. Mark continued to eat. Tina and Anita quietly excused themselves, but Jumbo crossed his arms and stared at Mark. “I was just telling them that I have no plans to move,” Mark said.

  Jumbo nodded. “That was a pretty nice gift you gave Bones; must be nice to be able to afford to buy gifts like that.”

  Mark finished his plate and smiled at Jumbo. “Yes, it is,” he said. “It is nice,” he then reached into his shirt pocket and removed the checks. “You owe me a favor and I’m going to let you repay me. Then we’re square,” he then handed the four checks to Jumbo. “I want you to hand these out, but wait until the party is over. Do you understand me?”

  Jumbo stared at the checks in disbelief. “Hey man,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Oh, yes I do.”

  “Who am I to argue? Thanks, dude. I get it, I’ll wait until after everyone has left before I hand them out. You’ve got my word on that.”

  Mark stood up. “Thanks,” he said. “I can see how much money means to you.”

  Jumbo’s cheeks deflated as he watched Mark walk away.

  Mark joined Dottie and Bones at the garage door. “I’m expecting a call,” he said. “I should be heading on home.”

  “Don’t you have a cellphone?” asked Dottie.

  Mark shook his head. “No computer, no cellphone. I’m old school.”

  “Really?” asked Bones. “I could never live like that. You should join us in the twenty-first century, Mark. You might like it.”

  Mark shook his head. “No, the government already has enough information about me. Besides, I hate talking on the phone and if I need a computer, I can always run up to the library. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Does eleven work for you?”

  Bones smiled. “We look forward to it.”

  They said their goodbyes and Mark walked away feeling good about the visit.

  Chapter 5

  Mark was up early on Sunday morning. He showered, made coffee and fixed himself a breakfast of ham and eggs. As he sat down on his new sofa to eat, he stared at the blank television screen and found that he was afraid to turn it on. Shaking his head, he fumbled with the remote control and brought the television to life. Thankfully, there did not seem to be any new developments in the world, which seemed to irritate the commentators. To Mark, it seemed that they were determined to keep stirring the pot, forcing President Crabtree to attack someone; anyone, simply to give them something to report on.

  The reporters did have more information on the Neighborhood Patrol System. Late Saturday, President Crabtree had passed an Executive Order that gave special powers to citizens who signed up for the program. Mark listened with dismay as the talking heads outlined these special powers. After passing an eight hour training course, an NPS volunteer had the right to trespass, not inside, but outside any residence or private property, providing they had reasonable suspicion to do so. They were above Peeping Tom laws, providing they didn’t cross over the line, whatever that was. They had the right to subdue and detain suspicious characters, until the authorities could arrive on the scene. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the volunteers were not only allowed, but were strongly encouraged to openly carry firearms.

  Mark watched and listened until he could watch no more. He shut off the television and washed his dishes in the sink. He stared out the kitchen window, studying
the dark houses of the cul de sac. The party had gone late into the night and he highly doubted any of his neighbors would be awake at this early hour. With his supplies already staged at the back door, he began the laborious task of carrying them across the field and safely into the woods. A cool breeze sang in the trees as he worked in the pale moonlight and it was nearly dawn before he had finished the first phase of the move. He knew that was the easy part. Lugging the supplies down to the shelter proved to be a monumental undertaking. By the time Mark completed the task, the sun was already above the trees.

  Sore and sweating, he took a few moments to admire his secret hideaway. What had once been a moldy hole in the ground, filled with rotting furniture, cobwebs, and rusty cans, was now a fully stocked and sparkling clean, bug-out shelter. Every surface had been scrubbed and painted. He had hired a private contractor to install a state of the art, air filtration system. The man had refused to install the system unless Mark replaced the lower door. The bunker needed to be sealed as tight as a drum. The improvements had been expensive, but the contractor had assured him they were absolutely necessary.

  Mark felt good about his accomplishment, hoping he would never have to use the bunker, but secure in the knowledge that he had somewhere to go if the shit ever hit the fan. He shut off his battery powered lanterns and climbed the stairs. For the next half hour, Mark took great pains to camouflage the entrance and erase his footsteps. Satisfied, he walked back to the edge of the woods and surveyed the houses. Knowing three of the families would be at church, he stared at the Lystrom home. Seeing nothing, he casually walked back up to his house.

  The pain came and went in waves, never far from the surface. When Mark stepped on a baseball that had been hidden in the tall grass, his heart ached. He instantly remembered the moment they had lost the ball and he desperately wanted to tell his boys that he had found it. Weeping, Mark leaned over to pick it up. He then hurled it as far into the woods as he could throw it. He turned and walked up to the house and he kicked off his mud boots. He walked inside and went straight for his .45. The Taurus Model 92 was fully loaded and Mark released the safety. And then, just as he had done so many times since losing his family, Mark pressed the barrel to his temple.