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“The bunker,” he said, shrugging in a way that said I should have known that. “Though there is an alternate route as well to a room in the attic that has an escape latch to the roof. For helicopter rescues.”
“Of course,” I agree, tone dry. “I mean, everyone has a helipad on their roof, don’t they?”
“If not, they certainly should. It would only cost a million or so,” Caleb said.
“What’s the bunker like?”
“You want to see?” he asked.
“Gee, let me think. Do I want to follow a stranger that I don’t know from Adam into a super secret, presumably underground and impenetrable, bunker? I’m going to have to pass.”
“Suit yourself,” Caleb said, walking forward the stark white house, under the butterfly stairs from above, and through to what looked like a kitchen. “It’s really not much to write home about anyway. Just a big white space with a couple bunks, lots of water, some MREs, blankets, cards, and a couple books. It’s all set up, though. Filtered outside air. A composting toilet. He put the money in.”
“Well, it looks like he had it to blow,” I said as I followed him into the all-white kitchen. So much white that it was actually hurting my eyes a bit. “But look how much good it did him,” I added, waving around.
“Probably got bit at work. Or on vacation. Can’t prepare for everything, I guess,” Caleb said, opening a door to a massive walk-in pantry.
Curious, I moved closer to look, finding the space stocked with canned foods, some herbs, a ton of cat food and cat litter, and lots of bottled water and toilet paper.
“I don’t think a single person could use that much toilet paper in their lifetime,” I decided.
“Yeah, it was overkill, in retrospect. Had a bit of TP PTSD from that pandemic we all went through a few years before the zombies. Once you have to use a handful of leaves, you never want to again.”
“That’s fair,” I said.
“So, milady, what can I offer you for dinner?” he asked, waving an arm dramatically. “Or, can I interest you in a stir fry?” he asked, grabbing a couple of cans.
“That’s a waste of a lot of food,” I said, shaking my head as he found some soy sauce.
“You gotta live when you’re in the apocalypse, Catie with a c and ie,” Caleb said. “You never know which silent rave in the graveyard will be your last.”
“Oh, yes. That old saying,” I said with a smile as I followed him back into the kitchen where he set all the vegetables on the counter and went to find the can opener. “Did this prepper guy happen to have a seed vault?” I asked, toying with the cans, trying to play it cool, not let him know how thrilled I was to be getting some actual vegetables in my body.
“Yeah. Figure if I’m still kicking, I can start a garden on the roof in the spring. I’ll share some seeds with you if you’re still here too. Gotta get that fiber and vitamins in.”
“I have a couple of different seeds, but yeah, if we’re still alive, I would definitely take some. I guess we have to start thinking long-term now, since, clearly, no one is coming to save us.”
“You thought someone would?”
“Well, I figured the military eventually,” I admitted.
“With how tight they have them all packed on bases? Nah,” Caleb said, shaking his head as he started to make our meal. “They were the first to turn, right after big office buildings and schools.”
That was probably the worst part of the zombie plague.
The kids.
Kid zombies.
Eating their parents.
Eating their siblings.
It was just… really, really horrific.
Luckily, I hadn’t seen a kid zombie in a long while
Caleb plated up our meals, and we ate them in the glow of hurricane lamps with cups of vodka which he seemed to have in abundance.
