Chapter 9, A Christmas Betrayal For the sixth time in history, life on Earth hung by a thread. The two previous largest events, an asteroid impact millions of years ago, and a global drought 164,000 years ago, brought on a climate too harsh to survive on the surface of the planet. Only those able to burrow deep underground survived. Early humans survived the second event by seeking shelter in caves. It was a lesson from history that could not be forgotten - those who could go underground were the ones to emerge as survivors. The end of August brought a deep freeze, but it wasn't the refreshing chill of a typical winter. Instead, dirty snow blanketed the ground, tinged with ash from the burned cities of a devastating nuclear war. The skies were gray and thick with lingering ash, blocking out the sun and choking the world. Animals and plants struggled to survive in this new harsh environment, and humans faced the possibility of perishing as well, depending on how severe the cover of ash was in their area. Through the grainy footage of the security cameras, I could see clusters of people trudging towards the mine entrance. Some were alone, while others traveled in small groups of two or three. They looked tired and hungry, and I knew they were seeking shelter from the harsh conditions above ground. But, despite their desperate need, I couldn't open the door for any of them. Twice now I'd nearly lost the bunker, there wouldn't be a third time. As the months dragged on, my mind continued to warp reality. I didn't see Grandma Rose or Grandpa Walter again, but instead, encountered a multitude of other absurdities. One morning, as I sipped on my vegetable juice, a pack of wild horses thundered through my kitchen, knocking over furniture and leaving hoofprints in their wake. Another time, I was repairing the walls near the escape tunnel when a pride of lions stalked by, their powerful strides shaking the ground beneath me. I followed them and watched as they successfully hunted down a herd of stampeding turtles. Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger, a T-Rex suddenly appeared at the door while I was fixing the oxygen generators. It politely asked for directions to Candy Mountain. We ended up having a friendly conversation about our favorite flavors of taffy. At this point, nothing surprised me anymore. Tabatha T-Rex made herself a regular visitor in the morning while I had breakfast. She would help herself to the bacon on my plate while she told me stories about her home in Zanondor, a city on the banks of the Gumball river. When I woke to Tabatha snowboarding through the halls, I decided I needed to go outside and see some reality. Though, I have to admit, I liked Tabatha, she played a mean game of checkers. Carefully, I packed my bag with essentials: a thick coat, sturdy boots, a hunting knife, and enough provisions to last a few days, just in case. Once everything was organized, I sat in front of the monitors, scanning for any signs of danger outside. The next morning, as I grabbed my bag and approached the blast doors, Tabatha appeared beside me. She stood on her hind legs, tapping her tiny claws together anxiously, and gave me her best advice of what to do if I encountered a hostile band of gingerbread men. I assured her I’d be fine, and that she was in-charge of the bunker until I got back. A tiny crown appeared on her head with the words "Queen of the Bunker" inscribed on it, I couldn't help but smile, she was the cutest T-Rex I knew. As I secured the heavy metal door of the bunker, memories of the brutal attack that had happened just months before flooded my mind. I shook off the fear and made my way towards what used to be the entrance of my property. The once lush green landscape was now charred and unrecognizable. The only familiar structure was the old brick mine office, which stood as a lonely reminder of the past. The gates that once guarded the entrance were now reduced to a pile of molten metal, evidence of the devastating fire that had ravaged this mountain. I took a deep breath and turned onto the road. It was colder than I imagined it would be, the frigid air hit me like a physical force. The wind whipped through my hair and stung my cheeks, making it hard to breathe. A thick blanket of gray clouds hung over everything, draining the world of color. I knew spring wouldn't come until these skies cleared, which could take years due to the nuclear winter. I trudged on for what felt like miles, but was probably only a few hundred feet before deciding to turn back. My body was still adjusting to being outside after months in the bunker. But as I turned around, a faint scent of smoke caught my attention. Curiosity piqued, I followed the smoke to a ravine. It made sense that someone would set up camp in a lower area to escape the harsh winds. But as I got closer, doubts crept in. Did I really want to encounter other people? They could be hostile and dangerous in this post-apocalyptic world. I waded through the thick snow, my rifle held tightly in my hands and my guns strapped to my parka. Adrenaline coursed through me as I followed the ravine to the bottom where I found a small hand-dug cave. The entrance was cleverly hidden by a patch of trees, but I could see smoke rising from a fire pit just inside the tunnel. My curiosity outweighed my caution as I crept closer. The camp was unlike anything I had seen before - the cave, dug into the side of the ravine, was just wide enough for two people to fit through. I peered inside and saw a neatly stacked pile of wood on both sides, leading towards the back where another stack awaited. In the center were two sleeping bags, providing warmth from the harsh winter nights. But what caught my eye were the toys lying on top of the sleeping bags - one was a rugged G.I. Joe, and the other a bright pink Barbie doll. It hit me then - this was the home of two children! How had they managed to survive out here for so long? My mind raced with questions. I touched nothing and backed away. The sleeping bags were haphazardly crumpled and the precious toys left behind. It was clear they had left in a hurry, probably having heard me coming. I scanned my surroundings, half expecting to see them hiding nearby, watching me. To show that I meant no harm, I slowly retrieved two M.R.E.’s (Meals Ready to Eat) from my backpack and placed it in front of the small cave. Next, I held up two bottles of water in each hand and made a slow circle, hoping to signal that I was not a threat. Despite my efforts, there was no sign of movement or acknowledgment from the hiding children. Sensing that they were too cautious to come out, I retreated from the campsite and climbed back up the ravine towards the road. However, even as I made my way back to my bunker, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Once safely inside the garage, I immediately changed the code on the locks to ensure my safety. From now on, I made a mental note to either hide my hand while entering the code or change it entirely whenever leaving the bunker. After all, if I were in their position, I would have tried to use a rifle scope to see the combination as it was being typed in. These two survivors were clearly smart and cautious for having survived this long on their own. I was excited about what I found and rushed to tell Tabatha all about it. Tabatha was knitting a festive Christmas sweater while she listened to all the details. I rambled on about the amazing discovery I had made in the woods, and with each detail I shared, her eyebrows lifted higher and higher until I thought her tiny crown would fall off the back of her head. She pursed her lips in contemplation. "You should wait a day or two before going back," she advised. I waited a few days, then took fresh sandwiches out to them wrapped in paper. I also took two tin pails of my home brew vegetable juice. When I went out the next time, the food was gone, but the vegetable juice was still sitting on the ground untouched. “Fine, everyone’s a critic,” I whispered to myself. A few days later, I packed up a large cast iron pot filled with hearty stew and some juice boxes and left it at their camp. I never saw them during any visit, but they were eating what I left. I continued every few days through October and November, and then on Thanksgiving, I took a feast of hot turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, and pumpkin pie out to them. I had a ton of frozen turkeys in the freezers. They would be good for another five months uncooked, but if I cooked and vacuum sealed the cooked meat before freezing, it would add up to 3 years shelf life to the meat, which might take me to the end of the nuclear winter. I would save the canned meat as it was good out to 5 years. My hope was to sit out the long winter with plenty of fresh food. I didn’t expect to ever see wildlife again. I hadn’t seen any since the bombs fell, and probably wouldn’t. They were gone. But, I did have a plan to help kick-start the world when the sun finally came out again. The bunker has a bunch of garden plots, but I don’t have anything growing in them right now. There’s also a fish hatchery. I’ve kept the fish fed and happy, but at the smallest population I can get away with. Really, it’s just a fish pond right now for me to sit next to and pretend I’m at the lake with my dad fishing. I have a ton of frozen fish to work through first before I even start thinking about harvesting the fish. So, my plan is when the rivers start to thaw. I’ll push my fish hatchery to maximum production, then start transferring them into the rivers. It wasn’t really my plan, my dad was the prepper, and these were all his ideas about what to do if the apocalypse ever came. I’m sure he didn’t expect not to survive the first five minutes of the apocalypse. By the way, I’m past the grief stage of my dad being gone, I was now into the anger stage. I’m so mad at him for leaving me alone. During those three months I was taking food out to the kids, whom I’d never even seen yet, my weird imagination visions of Grandma Rose and Grandpa Walter tapered off until they were gone, and even Tabatha disappeared. Feeding those kids was healing my mind. If only it had stayed that way. December came and I had a great idea. I took food out like normal, but I also started planning for Christmas. I picked out stuff from our storage for the kids and wrapped them up. I was careful to pick stuff they would really need; winter clothes, mittens, hats, socks, boots, two hunting knives with sharpening stones, an ax and saw, and a folding shovel. I also made sure to include some toys. I even found a tiny artificial Christmas tree to take out to them. On Christmas Eve, I took everything out to their camp, but this time I must have surprised them, because they were both inside their cave. They had the wood stacked in front of the entrance to hold the heat in, which is probably why they didn’t hear me this time. I didn’t disturb them, I just set up the tree, and laid out all the presents. I waited my normal two days to go out and take them some more food. I opened the outer blast door like always, and was about to close it when I saw the G.I. Joe sitting at the end of the driveway to the bunker. Every red flag I had went off at once. Was he giving me a present? Why put it way out there instead of up here next to the door. My eyes darted in every direction, calculating distances and angles. It looked like a sniper ambush if I’ve ever seen one. From here next to the door, I had the big concrete entrance way shielding me. The only angle and hiding spot to hit me here would be across the highway almost 300 yards away, and that would be an impossible shot, even for me. But, there were piles of gravel off to the side of the road next to the bunker, but the angle wouldn’t be able to hit me because of the concrete walls. If I would go out and pick up the G.I. Joe, I would have no protection, and it would only be a 75 yard shot. My thought was someone had seen me taking food out to the kids, kidnapped them, and were setting up an ambush. I stepped back into the bunker, and shut the door. I ran to the office where I could see what was happening on the monitors. Whoever it was could see there was a camera at the main doors, but probably didn’t know about all the other cameras I had monitoring the property. I sat down at the monitors and began scanning for something, anything, and found it. Off to the side of the bunker lying next to one of the piles of gravel was a boy with a rifle. He was wearing the hat and gloves I’d given him for Christmas. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see anything else. I’d been played again. They had let me get used to them, give them food, relax my guard, and studied my routines. They wanted the bunker, but they knew I closed the doors as soon as I stepped outside. They needed me to leave the door open and step away far enough to snipe me, and it might have worked if they had been braver. If the girl had laid in the road and pretended to be injured, I might have run out to her, but they were just kids and thought the G.I. Joe would be enough to make me come investigate. I had literally dodged a bullet. I turned off the cameras and the external intercom, and headed towards my kitchen and… …dammit, my visions were back. I found Grandpa Walter sitting on a bench outside my kitchen cleaning his guns, and inside the kitchen Grandma Rose and Tabatha were sitting at the table playing a furious game of checkers. I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes. Lesson learned. Trust nobody.