Chapter 14 - The Fort I tapped my finger against the worn checker piece, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room. My eyes scanned every inch of the board, searching for any moves that could lead to victory. With a furrowed brow and intense focus, I analyzed every possible move, determined to come up with a solution. “You're cheating,” Tabatha accused with a teasing smile. “I'm thinking,” I defended myself. “Amber is giving you tips,” she persisted, gesturing towards the red fox curled up on a fluffy pillow on top of the worktable. Amber had taken up residence in my kitchen and had quickly become a welcomed addition to the family. I had a suspicion that she may be expecting little ones soon, or perhaps I was simply spoiling her with too many treats. “She's just keeping score,” I joked. I wanted to reach out and stroke her fur, but she wasn’t ready to let me touch her yet. I had created a den for her under the table, but she seemed to think that meant the entire table was hers. To avoid any arguments, I covered it with a blanket and gave her a pillow to lounge on. Alex found a book about foxes in the library, but despite what the book said, Amber turned out to be surprisingly easy to care for. She was incredibly well-behaved, and only used the litter boxes I set out for her, and never chewed on anything (though she did have a fondness for shiny objects). I couldn't help but wonder if she had been someone's pet before finding her way into the bunker. I named her Amber after her striking golden eyes, which seemed fitting for such a lovely creature. As I strategized my next move on the checkerboard, I caught a glimpse of Amber’s tail wagging. Taking it as a signal it was the correct move, I slid my piece forward. My triumphant grin faltered as Tabatha jumped up on her hind legs with a smug expression. With seven swift jumps over my remaining pieces, Tabatha claimed victory and celebrated with a happy dance, accidentally knocking over a bag of potatoes with her tail. I glared at Amber, but she only shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “I’m a fox, what do I know about checkers.” "Who are you talking to?" asked Jack, his sudden appearance in the doorway startling me. He entered without invitation or waiting for an answer to his question. His eyes landed on the scattered potatoes and raised an eyebrow. Ignoring his silent question about the mess, I reminded him that this was my personal space, but Jack seemed uninterested with such social norms as privacy and walked around Amber cautiously, knowing she didn't like him much and would nip at him if given the chance. After checking the old coal stove to see what was cooking, Jack's attention was drawn to the three sacks of potatoes laid out with a blanket draped over them and a pillow placed on top. He tilted his head in confusion before turning back to me with a sly smile. "You have an imaginary friend who sleeps here." he stated. "She," I corrected him with a sigh. "Tabatha sleeps there." “Who’s Tabatha?” he asked in that sing-song voice that implied I had an imaginary girlfriend. “My pet T-Rex,” I said. “Aww, you called me your pet,” said Tabatha. “You’re so sweet.” I ignored Tabatha and kept my eyes on Jack. “So what, you have an imaginary friend too.” “Yeah, Joe stays on guard when I’m sleeping.” He was referring to his G.I. Joe. “Obviously you’re bored with video games.” I said. “Are you ready to go search for that replacement handle?” “Sure, let’s go,” replied Jack. As we emerged from the heavy, reinforced door at the back of the bunker, Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. We stepped into a massive, open space that had been carved out of the old mine. The ceiling soared up to seemingly endless heights, supported by colossal columns of rock. "Is this...Moria?" Jack exclaimed, his voice full of wonder and excitement. The surprise was evident on my face. "You've read Lord of the Rings?" "I saw the movie," Jack admitted sheepishly. "But I never thought I'd see it in real life." "You're not alone," I chuckled. "This section isn’t for tourists. If you look out the observation window on the mine tour, you’ll only see a small portion that resembles an old-fashioned mine." Jack's curiosity got the best of him as he took in his surroundings. "How did you build all of this? You must be the richest family in the world." I couldn't help but let out a rueful laugh. "Actually, we're probably one of the poorest. It took 160 years and every generation contributing something to make it what it is now. There were times when we didn't have any money at all and nothing new could be added. I’m broke." Jack looked around in amazement before shouting out a few words just to hear them echo off the walls. He turned back to me with a triumphant smile on his face. "You're not broke, you have all of this." I shook my head with a small smile. "This belongs to the family, not just me." “How many people does it take to re-start the world?” I had to pause at that question for a moment; it was a very intelligent question. Dad and I talked about it before. Maybe Jack was as smart as his sister, but his temper made him do stupid things. “It takes a minimum of 600 people to restart the world.” “We don’t have enough.” “Not by ourselves. We’re counting on the other bunkers to bring survivors through to the other side also.” “There are other bunkers?” Jack asked, surprised. "A lot of them," I confirmed. "Our bunker can hold fifty, but maybe more if we can get the gardens to work. There's another bunker two-hundred miles north of us that can hold about the same amount, but there are also bigger bunkers out west and near the border that can hold thousands of people." “So, the world isn’t over?” asked Jack. I hesitated before answering. "My dad believes that the bigger bunkers will eventually tear themselves apart. Too many people from different backgrounds cramped into a small space. It's a recipe for chaos and disaster." I took a deep breath before continuing, "He thinks it will be the smaller bunkers like ours that will survive in the end because they're occupied by families who are loyal to each other." As we walked along the old bunker wall to where I kept the ATV, Jack's gaze drifted towards an aged shack leaning against the wall. He had a habit of getting distracted easily, so I wasn't surprised when he pointed at the shack and asked what it was. "That's 'The Fort'," I replied. "It used to be the telegraph office." Jack's eyes lit up with excitement. "A telegraph! I've only seen one at a museum before." I smiled, happy that he was interested in something. "Do you know any Morse code?" I asked. "My sister and I taught ourselves how to tap out code for fun. We would tap on the wall between our bedrooms at night." Jack eagerly asked if we could go see it, and I agreed. As we approached the old shack, Jack quickly poked around and explored every nook and cranny. He even tried sitting in the swivel chair and tapping on the telegraph machine, even though it wasn't connected to anything anymore. "This is so cool," he exclaimed. I shared some history about the shack, how it used to sit outside near the mining office until it was moved inside when the telephone came into use in the 1920s. It became a popular spot for kids to play, even functioning as a makeshift daycare for miners' children while their parents worked. My dad built me my own castle to play in, but my grandfather told stories of dozens of kids playing at The Fort every day. Jack suddenly stopped tapping and pushed back in the chair. “Someone is sending a message.” I grinned, of course nobody was sending a message, the machine wasn’t hooked up. “Do you want to stay here and play while I go look for the parts we need to fix the broken toilet?” Jack nodded and tentatively reached out to tap a return message on the telegraph to his new make-believe friend. I left him to play and went back to the ATV. Searching for the part would probably take hours. I wondered if Jack would have the attention-span to stay in the telegraph shack. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found him climbing on top of the bunker when I got back. I returned to the ATV and got in. I had to wait for Tabatha to squeeze into the passenger seat. I remember when I was his age and still had an imagination where I could make a game out of anything, but you have to grow up someday and take things seriously. I have too much work to do for that now. I drove off towards the storage tunnels with Tabatha’s tail dragging behind the ATV. And in the shack behind me, Jack tapped out the message: “Hi, I’m Jack, who is this?” *** 81 years earlier, April 9, 1942 Tilly's hands flew to her mouth as the radio blared out news of the war. She could see the fear in the other children's faces as they huddled around the radio, tears streaming down some of their cheeks. The only one not in shock was Bobby, his jaw set with anger. At 16, he was the oldest, but Tilly was James' daughter and held a natural authority over them all. "Go get my dad, Bobby," Tilly said urgently. "Hurry." Bobby didn't hesitate, knowing that he needed to do something before he started punching holes in the walls again. Tilly watched him run off before turning back to the radio. It was hard to believe that just five months ago, Uncle Danny was sitting with them at Thanksgiving dinner, but was now half a world away fighting in a war. James arrived at the telegraph shack within ten minutes, his face grim as he surveyed the gathered children. He made a beeline towards Tilly and snapped off the radio. "You shouldn't be listening to this, it upsets the little ones," he scolded gently. "Papa, Bataan has surrendered," Tilly blurted out. "That's where Uncle Danny is. The radio said 12,000 of our boys were taken prisoner." "Danny is a Robinson," James replied with confidence. "He will survive." "But I'm worried, Papa," Tilly insisted. "Can we look at the cards, please?" "I can't control what the cards show us," James sighed. "They might show us if Danny is okay," Tilly pleaded desperately. The cards she was referring to was great Grandpa Thomas’ special deck. He had been a gambler and won the mine in a poker game using the magic cards. Tilly watched her father take the deck from his coat pocket. He turned the deck over and fanned it out to show all the cards were blank, then turned the deck back over, and turned the first card. Tilly sighed as she saw the blank face of the card. “It’s the same as always, Papa.” “Your hand hasn’t started yet, be patient.” “Another card, Papa.” James flipped the next card. The picture was a boy that looked a lot like her Papa, but he had Grandpa Walters penetrating eyes, and he dressed like Grandpa Walter too. The boy was standing in a frozen wasteland staring into the distance. “Who is he, Papa?” “I don’t know, but for the last few months, this is the only image the deck will show me. I think he’s the family’s new shooter.” “He looks really mean, Papa, like Grandpa Walter’s pictures.” “I was your age when the Company Men came to steal our mine,” said James. “My father was a gentle, caring man, but I watched him in the blink of an eye change from the gentle man that tucked me in bed at night into a demon. They sent thirty of their best shooters to chase us off our land. We could hear the gun battle from inside the mine; it lasted until sundown. Dad was mortally wounded, but not a single Company Man walked off this mountain.” She had heard the story a million times, but it still sent shivers down her spine. “One more card, please.” James flipped another card. “Hmm… I’ve never seen this one before. There’s our new shooter, but who’s this boy walking next to him?” “Oh my, he’s a tall glass of water,” said Tilly. “Tilly! Where’d you learn that kind of language!” Tilly shrugged. “The radio.” “That radio’s fixin’ to get locked up if I ever hear that kind of filth come out of your mouth again.” Tilly dropped her eyes. “Yes, Papa, sorry.” James collected the cards and put them back in his pocket. “I need to get back to work. Keep that radio off.” “Yes, Papa.” Tilly leaned back in her chair satisfied as her father left the shack. “That went well.” “We didn’t learn anything about Danny,” said Bobby. “Sure we did, he’s alive,” replied Tilly. “How do you figure?” “If Uncle Danny were dead, Papa wouldn’t hide it, he’s not like that. He would tell us he’s dead so we can grieve and move on.” “You’re smart, for a girl,” said Bobby. “I should have asked to see my card again, maybe it changed.” “It wouldn’t have changed,” said Tilly, ignoring his obvious insult. “You wanted to fight last December when Pearl got hit, and you still want to fight, so nothing’s changed. Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance soon. I’m almost finished with your fake birth certificate, but you better come back in one piece or Papa will drop me down a hole somewhere in this mine when he finds out.” “It’s almost lunch time,” said Bobby as he turned and headed towards the door. Tilly rolled her eyes. Bobby was an idiot. Going to lunch early didn’t do any good. The miners got fed first, and then the kids. He would still be at the end of the line when she and the other kids got there. She sighed and put her feet up on the desk. Everyone knew the mountain was magic; an old magic almost as old as the Earth itself, and the deeper they dug, the stronger the magic got. If the mountain said something was going to happen, then it would happen. But when? The coal had mostly played out ten years ago. All they were doing now was the clean-up, and the excavation for the bunker that was almost finished. If the Germans invaded, they would be ready, but it was still terrifying to think about bombs dropping from the sky. She reached a hand out and idly tapped on the telegraph key: “I’m bored…is anyone out there?” The tap tap tap was a pleasant sound, but it was silly to think someone would respond. The telegraph battery was long dead, and it wasn’t even hooked up to the aerial anymore. She dropped her hand down and sighed just as the telegraph sprang to life. She fell out of her chair and scrambled away. The sparker showed an active message was coming in. The spool of ticker paper began moving as the receiver tapped holes in the paper to record the message. Every kid in the room was frozen and staring at the machine. “It’s happening, it’s the end of the world,” whispered one girl. “I’ll bet it’s the Germans, they’re attacking the mountain,” said a boy from under a table where he was hiding. “It’s not the Germans, you dolt,” said another boy. “It’s space monsters invading, I saw it at The Regal Theater when Pa took us down to the city to buy a new truck. The monsters eat your brains.” Tilly pushed herself to her knees and held her arms out for silence. “Everyone stay calm, it’s Grandma Rose’s prophecy." She jumped up, and ran to the ticker paper hanging from the spool. She lifted the thin strip of punched paper and read: “Hi, I’m Jack, who is this?”