Chapter 10, The Map The last time I stepped outside was two day’s after Christmas. It was now the middle of January and I thought of the two kids out in their cave. The temperature had dropped below zero and even through the thick steel blast doors, I could hear the frigid wind howling outside. I'd heard banging on the door a week ago and checked the camera. I'm pretty sure it was the girl, but I didn't respond. How could I? They had set up an ambush to kill me for the bunker, I couldn't trust them. As I sat in the dimly lit recreation room, the only sounds were the click-clack of air hockey pucks as Grandpa Walter and Tabatha battled it out on the air hockey table, and the western movie I was watching. I turned up the volume to drown out the annoying clacking. I envied the characters in the movie as they rode freely under vast blue skies. The movie was about a Rancher that didn't have any real cowboys, so he'd hired a bunch of kids. I yearned to be one of those kids, living a life on horseback and feeling at peace in a world so much bigger than this confined space. I finished the movie and was looking for another, my fingers lightly grazing across the worn DVD cases as I searched the titles, when I saw something colorful and out of place hiding behind the DVD's. I pulled the DVD's to the side and found a separate DVD case wrapped in birthday paper and labeled "For: Johnny, From: Dad." I stared at the wrapped case for a long time, I wasn't ready for this. Dad must have wrapped it for my last birthday and hid it here, thinking maybe I would find it, or maybe he'd just forgotten to give it to me on my birthday. I put the wrapped case back without opening it. I don’t know if I’ll ever open it. As long as it stays unwrapped, there would be a little piece of dad always here. With the end of January nearing, my patience for watching movies in the dark bunker had worn thin. I ventured into the adjacent Library, where my grandpa's hoarding tendencies were on full display. The space was cluttered with stacks of books, both upright and haphazardly laying on shelves. Boxes filled with even more books took up valuable floor space, leaving only narrow pathways to navigate through the multiple rooms. As I surveyed the chaotic scene, it dawned on me that organizing the library could be a worthwhile project. After all, it was likely the last remaining library in the entire world. But first, I would have to carefully move the boxes to reach the shelves and begin sorting through the endless titles. It was a daunting task. I rummaged through several cardboard boxes filled with a jumble of forgotten books, until I came across a dusty box overflowing with old maps. Excitement bubbled in my chest as I carried the box to my worn armchair and eagerly emptied the contents onto my lap. The maps were yellowed and faded, but the intricate lines and exotic names still sparked my imagination. Lost in thought, I absently ran my fingers over the mountains and rivers on one map, imagining myself exploring those far-off lands. But I also knew that most of these places no longer existed because of the nuclear holocaust. With a sigh, I carefully set the map aside as I looked at the next. I became determined to organize them properly in my library when I had the space. As I reached for the last map, I noticed a lone map wedged under the bottom flap of the box. I pulled it out and unfolded it and my heart skipped a beat. It was a map of our family's mine - a cherished piece of history that had been lost for years. As I studied the old map of the bunker, my eyes traced over familiar tunnels and storage areas. But one detail caught my attention - a new tunnel leading off to the north. It was marked as sixty feet deep, which meant it would connect to the fourth level of the bunker. However, that area was supposed to be solely used for storage, yet this map showed an additional tunnel that didn't exist in reality. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I studied the mysterious addition on the map. I took the old map to my father's office and compared it to the large topographical map hanging on the wall. Their scales were similar, but not quite exact. However, I could make out that the new tunnel led to Grandpa's private airfield on Miller's bluff. My family often purchased surrounding lots to preserve the natural beauty of our mountain and prevent unwanted developments or shopping malls from cropping up. And this airfield was built on one of those protected properties. Grandpa was a passionate collector of vintage planes, with his prized possession being a King Air 200 turbo prop parked at the airfield. He also had several operational WWII planes and an out-of-commission Korean War jet. A small hobby club even rented part of the airfield for their members' aircraft. Despite all this, I rarely visited the airfield as airplanes just weren't my thing. I had flown with Grandpa once before, but the experience left me feeling uneasy. Miller’s Bluff had been in a direct line with the nuke that had gone off, so I didn’t imagine there was much left of the airfield, or any of the airplanes parked there, but I was curious about the tunnel on the map. Was it just a proposed tunnel, or had Grandpa really built a secret tunnel to get to and from the airfield? I stopped at the kitchen to pick up a couple bottles of water, two flashlights, and a couple granola bars. My adventures down into the mine had taught me I’d often end up hungry, thirsty, or walking back in the dark because my flashlight died. I hopped into the ATV Utility Vehicle parked behind the bunker in the tunnel. The winding path stretched out before me, illuminated only by my headlights and the occasional flicker from the mine-track switching reflectors. I resisted the urge to turn on the bright mine lights - I needed to conserve energy for the electric turbine that powered our underground world. Unlike the government bunkers with their fancy technology, we were a private bunker and did not have access to state-of-the-art technology. I could only guess how long the nuclear winter would last - potentially for decades - and thus needed to carefully manage my resources. I navigated the dark mine tunnel on my ATV, bouncing over uneven tracks and dodging occasional piles of coal left behind when the mine closed in 1932. The map showed a tunnel between Section 14G and 15G. I slowed and watched carefully for a side tunnel, but all I found was a solid rock wall, and it was a good thing I had slowed. I had to swerve around a mine-track switching lever that appeared in front of me. Usually, they were on the left side, but this one had been on the right. Frustrated at not finding anything, I turned around and scanned the walls with my flashlight, searching for any sign of the supposed tunnel. But there was nothing, just rough-hewn rocks and dirt. Confused, I checked the map again and realized that the tunnel must not have been built yet. It was just a plan for the future. The coal stove was burning low when I got back, so I grabbed the coal bucket and added another layer. The warmth and comfort of this space always made me forget about the chaos outside. My soft quilts and pillows draped over the bed, while the stove cast a warm glow, and the spices used for cooking made it feel and smell like the best place in the world, even in the midst of an apocalypse. I felt fortunate to have this cozy shelter while others were struggling to survive in makeshift tunnels or scavenging for food in old grocery stores. As I lay in my bunk, exhaustion finally overtook me and I drifted into a deep sleep. I don't think I dreamed, I never dreamed. Why would I, I lived in a dream every day. My eyes snapped open to the sound of a faint clicking noise. My senses instantly heightened as I listened intently to the familiar sounds of the bunker. Everything seemed normal, but a nagging feeling in the back of my mind told me something was off. That's when it hit me - the rail-switching handle! It had been on the wrong side of the tracks. A switching handle had a piece of metal sticking up with a reflector on it so you could see where they were, and then a long handle you pulled to move the track so a mine cart could be moved off the main track and onto a side track. They were everywhere, you didn’t even notice them unless you needed one. It was like street signs, you could pass them all day long and never notice one until you needed to know the name of a street. I laced up my steel-toed boots, eager to investigate if the mysterious extra tunnel on the map really existed. The rumble of my ATV echoed through the dimly lit passageway as I made my way deeper into the tunnel. The sputtering engine made me anxious - I knew the gas was going bad. Gas just doesn't store well. I reached my destination and parked the ATV, my heart racing with anticipation. As I approached the curious switching handle, my mind raced with possibilities. Without hesitation, I pulled on the switch and was met with a loud click as the wall swung open, revealing a dark tunnel beyond. My jaw dropped in astonishment - this was it! The switch was a cleverly disguised latch that opened a secret passage right under my nose. I shone my flashlight into the tunnel, revealing a fully completed concrete bunker tunnel. I flicked the light switch on the wall, but nothing happened. The tunnel remained dark and eerie and I could feel a chill creeping up my spine. As I ventured further in, I noticed a room to the side with two large generators inside. I placed my hand on one, then the other, and felt their icy coldness - they hadn't been used in quite some time. Aha, so these were responsible for powering the tunnel's lights. I went back to where I'd parked the ATV. The tunnel was wide enough for two ATV's to fit side-by-side comfortably, so I decided to drive, but I wanted a quick way to retreat if I ran into something dangerous. Pushing aside my unease for the unfamiliar tunnel, I turned on the ATV's light bar to better see what was ahead. As I drove, I couldn't help but marvel at the engineering of this underground tunnel. It must have cost a fortune to build. Just as I was starting to relax, something caught my eye near the end of the tunnel. Pallets lined both sides of the wall, stacked high with brown packages the size of bricks. My stomach dropped as I neared and realized what they were; Cocaine. Tons of it. I slammed on the brakes and almost hit reverse before catching myself. My heart raced as I remembered all those movies where someone stumbled upon a drug operation and ended up getting killed, but something at the end of the tunnel had caught my attention and I wanted to check it out. I got out of the ATV and walked slowly between the two rows of pallets, my knees weak and shaking. Holy smoke, what had I stumbled on. This was a nightmare. I’d found a drug lab or something. But, why would all this be in a secret tunnel from our mine to Grandpa’s airfield? I counted thirty pallets of the brown packages, but it wasn’t until I reached the very end of the tunnel when everything began to fall in place. I reached a hand out and touched a jacket I recognized. I could see the emblem on the back of the jacket; It was Grandpa’s favorite aviator jacket. I felt dizzy and had to bend over and take deep breaths. I knew now what had happened to Grandpa. It had been a warm day last April when the nukes hit. Grandpa had been here, he’d taken the elevator up to the surface, then took his jacket off, and draped it over the railing of the elevator. He had then lowered the lift back down, with his jacket still draped over the railing. Grandpa had been at the airfield the day of the nuclear attack. He might not even have known about the nukes, it had happened so fast. A superheated fireball around 6000 degrees had swept over the airfield. He never felt anything. But, why was he here with these drugs. I already knew the answer. Grandpa was a pilot, and the map was around thirty years old. Grandpa must have been flying drugs since his twenties. It all made sense now. The mine hadn’t made any money since 1932, and Dad said we were on the verge of bankruptcy, but somehow, Grandpa always found the money to pay the bills. It also explained why Uncle Paul and the others had moved away, they must have known and wanted nothing to do with it, but had my dad known? Wouldn’t Uncle Paul have told dad? It was just like Grandpa to use his own sons to cover for his illegal activities. I always knew Grandpa wasn’t really a very good guy. He could be mean, and I’d seen how people acted around him, but I’d been too young and naive to see just how afraid they were of him. Maybe Uncle Paul had been afraid of him too, and maybe he’d never told dad because Grandpa threatened him. Whatever it was, it explained how we were able to finance such an expensive bunker with no apparent income. Unlike most drug lords, Grandpa hadn’t built a drug mansion, he’d built a drug bunker. If the Feds had ever showed up, they could have gotten in eventually, with a plasma torch and a spare hour or two, but how many more of these escape tunnels did Grandpa build? Grandpa would have made sure he had several ways out. I ran back to the ATV, I didn’t want anything to do with any this either. I turned the ATV around, and drove away as fast as I could. I would seal this tunnel forever here in the dark and forget this horrible part of the Robinson history.