BUNKER
BUSTER
A
SHORT STORY BY QUENTON SHAW
©
Copyright 2009 QEW Publishing
(UNEDITED
BLUE-LETTER EDITION #1)
Five
years was a long time to be stuck in an underground bunker in
isolation, but as soon as he was able to, Buster knew he would be
able to verify that all the time that had passed had been worth it
because he’d been right all along. It had been him and him alone
who had predicted that a worldwide, atmospheric mutagenic outbreak
would occur. He’d tried to warn his colleagues who were responsible
for it at the time that the experiments they’d been conducting with
the mutagen gas they’d developed couldn’t be contained with the
methods they’d been implementing indefinitely. In their scientific
zeal, though, they chose to ignore him. So Buster had decided to
prepare himself for what he knew would inevitably be the worst
outcome. He spent the next several years designing and building the
miniature, but sophisticated underground facility that had eventually
became his current dwelling. The inevitable did finally occur and
horrible things happened to millions of people who became exposed.
Buster had already tucked himself safely away deep inside his bunker.
But now after five years of
meticulous monitoring the environment through a series of remote
sensors he had posted above before his five-year descent, Buster had
finally begun receiving consistent readings of varying low degrees to
almost no contamination of the mutagen. Some further authentication
of these readings helped to finally certify his assessment that the
time had finally arrived for him to exit the bunker for an
expedition. Punching in a numeric code on the keypad inside the
bunker’s entry silo, mixed feelings of excitement, curiosity, and
apprehension overwhelmed him about the world he’d left behind.
Above him, outside, he could hear the interlocking seal collaring the
rim of the entry silo’s hatch disengaging.
Several minutes later, Buster was
outside, standing next to the silo’s opened hatch, surveying his
surroundings while he waited for his primary transport to ascend from
below. He was dressed, equipped, and ready for his expedition. Of his
immediate surroundings, the desert where he’d built his bunker, he
noticed no significant changes. It looked the same as it had five
years ago. However far off to the east he did see something through a
small set of binoculars.
A thick curtain of dark, purplish
mist hovered far away. A massive mutagenic mist was the result of his
former colleagues’ dangerous experiments. A few quick calculations
on his wireless palm computer helped him to determine that the
current wind conditions would help to keep it bay at least for the
next several hours until those conditions changed and brought the
mutagen to his location. Buster figured that that was plenty of time
for him. He mounted his transport, fired it up, and headed off toward
the nearest city in a cloud of sand and dust.
*
* * *
Buster’s transport was a
customized Uno cycle. Originally conceived as a small,
single-operator riding machine by some 18-year old genius, the Uno
looked remarkably like a one-wheeled racing bike from a side view.
But it was really a two-wheeled contraption with wheels that were
actually side-by-side. Advanced gyroscopic technology kept its rider
upright. Buster’s particular Uno was a larger, electric-powered,
off-road model. Its power cells were fully charged and he indulged
himself, pushing the machine to the limits of its top speed.
He arrived at the city rather
quickly moments later. He cruised its streets until the GPS feature
of his palm computer pinpointed him at city’s center, tucked the
Uno away into a nearby alley, and then set out on his expedition on
foot.
After over an hour later of
walking around, he was only able to discern that the entire city was
totally deserted and littered. Hundreds of dried and crinkly leathery
husks seemed to be strewn everywhere he looked. Cautious, he picked
up one near his foot and examined it. Upon closer inspection, Buster
was surprised to realize that these husks were merely the shedded
moltings of what had once been human skin. He was considering taking
it back it with him to the bunker for further examination when a
sudden terrified scream startled him, making him drop it. The
screaming was clearly that of a woman and from Buster’s quick
assessment she was nearby. Fear and curiosity assailed him. He forgot
about the skin and ran toward the direction of the screaming. He had
never witnessed the actual effects of the mutagen on people that had
been exposed to it, but he knew from the records based on the past
experiments, that to most humans it was lethal. But there had been a
significant number of other human beings that were affected
differently. Instead of death, some of these victims underwent
horrific physiological changes after being exposed, mutating them
into vile, cannibalistic monsters.
Buster raced down a side street to
a corner from where the commotion was emanating. He rounded the
corner and was instantly petrified by the sight he beheld.
* * * *
What could have once been human
looked now like a massive, slug-like aberration with multiple
writhing tentacles, a pair of deformed, soulless eyes, and a
cavernous mouth filled with rows of pointed teeth. The only sounds it
made were the gnashing of those teeth, which were compounded by a
series of slurps, and a raspy, labored breathing as it pursued its
predatory efforts to capture its prey. A screaming young woman
wielding a machete was ensnared in several of its tentacles. She was
caught in a nightmarish bout of tug-of-war with the thing and seemed
to be pulling herself free as she screamed and flailed wildly with
the machete at the tentacles now grasping at one of her legs. She
managed to sever them free with what seemed to be a lucky stroke and
they flopped to the ground still wriggling. The thing, though, was
persistent. Losing an appendage or two wasn’t going to deny it
food. Heaving its bulk, it surged forward. The woman shrieked again
as its tentacles snaked through the air toward her.
Buster knew that if he remained
transfixed any longer he would be watching her being devoured alive.
Worse, he could also be the thing’s next victim. He dashed toward
the monster, removing the zapper strapped to his right thigh. The
zapper was merely a two-foot baton-like weapon that functioned much
like a cattle prod. A flick of his wrist and it instantly snapped out
to its full five-foot length. He thrust its electrified tip into the
mutant’s cavernous mouth. The thing shuddered and ceased his
assault. It rolled over on what appeared to be its side twitching and
then remained still. Buster had paralyzed it.
He suddenly detected swift
movement rushing toward him from the corner of his eye. Luckily, he
whirled just in time to parry the screaming woman’s machete strike
with the zapper. He was expecting to fend off another attack, but she
managed to stop herself. Despite her situation, she was apparently
still able to recognize a rescue when she saw one. And she was also
as surprised to see another human being as he was. Buster looked her
over. He was flummoxed that she bore no signs of the effects of the
mutagen. No outward signs, anyway. And even though she looked like
she’d been surviving on her own and roughing it out here for quite
some time, he could see she was obviously a woman of particular
striking beauty.
“You okay?” he asked.
Still in shock, she just nodded
yes. Her eyes glanced over to the disabled monster. One of its
tentacles twitched and she yelped. Buster saw it twitch, too. He
jabbed the mutant again with the zapper and again it remained still.
“That will keep it there, but
this is only a temporary defense,” he said, indicating the zapper.
“We need to go.”
* * * *
Her
name was Sunny Lee and she’d been on her own since the time the
Mutagenic Outbreak occurred. How she managed to survive without being
infected was a mystery Buster was eager to solve. Because he had been
such an anal retentive planner, Buster rationalized having the Uno
cycle’s gyroscopics engineered to accommodate two riders instead of
its patented one. The two raced back to the desert and returned to
the bunker.
Sunny
Lee was awestruck with the bunker. Buster was very happy and pleased
to give her a brief tour of the underground complex, explaining its
many means and systems that enabled him to survive and thrive alone
for five years. She inundated him with questions and he provided
answers to all of them. The subject they dwelled on the most was
about the Institute.
Five
years ago, Buster and his colleagues, who had formed an enclave of
brilliant scientists, doctors, and technicians called the Institute,
began experimenting with a prototype mutagenic compound they had
developed. The purpose was to induce and study dramatic mutations in
cellular physiology in order to discover if any possible medical
advantages could be derived in battling all forms of disease. The
mutagen had been tested only on animals and the results, as it had
been feared, were catastrophic. All test subjects died from horrible
physical deformities. The Institute, however, would not be deterred
from its goal. Certain influential members persuaded the others among
them that the mutagen itself could yield the clues to the discovery
they were pursuing. A debate whether to destroy the mutagen outright
and find less dangerous means to achieve the goal ensued.
A
rift formed between those for proceeding with the mutagen and those
against it. Those against were overruled and conceded to go with
keeping it. Buster refused to relent his protest and severed his
association with the Institute. He knew that ambition had eroded any
concern for public safety and any sense of bioethics. He set out on
his own and began preparing himself for what he had forecasted would
become the inevitable.
Sunny
Lee was shocked by Buster’s confession. “You knew that all this
would happen and you didn’t warn anybody?” she asked.
From
the time he had left the Institute, Buster had asked himself the same
question. And over the five years he spent alone thinking about it,
he had his answer. “You have to understand, this mutagen was
powerful stuff,” he said. “No one, no matter how careful they
were going to be, could store and control it indefinitely. It’s the
law of averages dictated by the reality of human nature. Man has
always been inclined to play with fire until he’s burned by it.
Warning the world was only one of two options I figured I had. The
other one…well you’re standing in it.”
The
expression on her face told him that she grasped Buster’s point and
was not going to press the issue further. After all, she was truly
grateful that he’d showed up when he did. He had saved her life.
Then she noticed him staring at her and he noticed that she saw it.
Her lips curled into a wry smile.
“You know,” she said. “Five years is a long time to be down
here all alone.”
“It was,” he said. “You’re the first person that’s ever
been in here since the outbreak.”
“More
like the first female, right?”
She
was definitely right about that. Despite her being covered with dirt
and grime and having disheveled hair, he had noticed how attractive
she was only mere seconds after zapping the monster that had been
trying to make a meal out of her. He was more than willing to admit
that even resourceful nerds like himself had primal sexual urges as
strong as the next man, Buster was nevertheless embarrassed.
“Uhh…five
years is quite a spell to be exposed, too,” he said, changing the
subject. “I admit that I’m curious to know how you survived
without being infected.”
“I’d
say it was a miracle,” she said.
“I’m
sure it was, but I’d still like to perform a thorough analysis to
determine what may have enabled this.”
“You
can do that? What are you exactly, an engineer, a scientist, or
what?”
“A
bit of all of the above. I actually have all the things I need here
to perform the necessary tests. And I think that I might even be able
to…” his voice trailed off.
“To
what…What?” It was obvious he was now considering the words he
should say next.
“To
determine whether or not if any reaction that would have occurred is
just…delayed,” he said.
“What
do you mean delayed?” she said, afraid.
Buster
chided himself inwardly. He’d been alone too long and had just
realized that he’d become accustomed to broadcasting his thoughts
out loud. And it wasn’t entirely what he was thinking, anyway. “…Or
not,” he said now smiling reassuringly. “Not having a reaction
doesn’t mean that it you’re liable for one. You haven’t had one
so far, right?”
She
nodded warily in agreement.
“So
what I’d like to do now is to begin drawing samples of your blood
for testing right away. Then I’d like to draft a spreadsheet to
record and monitor the experiments. I’ll need your permission and
participation.”
“Sure,”
she said. A tone of buoyancy had returned to voice. “Well
scientific stuff has never interested me and I’ll help you however
I can, but on one condition. I want a hot shower first.”
“Of
course. Right this way.” Buster showed her a cleverly compartmented
section where a narrow, single shower was installed. This pleased
Sunny Lee immensely. Buster issued her appropriate amenities along
with a clean set of clothes and then gave her her privacy.
He figured he had managed to avoid
divulging anymore to Sunny Lee about what he truly intended to do
with his proposed experiments. Right now she was indulging herself
with a creature comfort few probably experienced now. Having another
person—especially a woman—certainly invited an awkward situation
for him. But for the time being, Buster decided he would busy himself
brushing up on the basics of phlebotomy. It was either that or
imagining her naked in the shower.
*
* * *
Buster
slipped the needle into the vein he found on Sunny Lee’s arm so
deftly that she didn’t even flinch. He filled several vials he had
already labeled with her blood, carefully removed the needle, and
then fastened a tiny round Band-Aid over the puncture. “Thanks for
this,” he said.
“Thank
you for this,” she said, referring to the clothes he had given her.
She was now wearing one of Buster’s many sets of gray, one-piece
jumpers. The jumpers comprised the entirety of his wardrobe. Now that
Sunny Lee was cleaned up she looked refreshed and her natural beauty
shown even more. The jumper also really complimented her figure quite
well. “You must be some kind of genius to be living down here like
this all this time.”
“I
don’t know about being genius,” he said. “I just happen to have
a particular series of interests and possess expertise in certain
fields of science, medicine, and engineering.”
“Sounds
like a genius to me.”
“I
prefer that I’m more prudent and resourceful than average.”
“Fair
enough. So how resourceful are you at cooking?”
Buster
laughed. “It’s funny you should ask that,” he said. “I hope
you like chicken.”
*
* * *
Dinner
later that evening was a microwaved meal of portioned, high-protein
loaves that were lightly chicken flavored and accompanied with carafe
of freshly filtered water. They ate heartily while she told him how
she had survived.
Sunny Lee hadn’t always been
alone.
There had been some others like
her. Human beings who were somehow immune to the effects of the
mutagen. They had all became survivors and had decided to begin
forming nomadic groups. Over time, though, their numbers had
dwindled. Many of them had fallen prey to attacks by the ravenous
mutants. Their last and most recent attack had been the worst. There
had been so many monsters that had attacked that the last remaining
remnants of their group had been forced to scatter. Sunny Lee had
been wandering on her own for the last three days before Buster found
her. While Buster outwardly expressed his fascination with her
account, his excitement about what he’d recently learned about her
eclipsed it. He had just examined one of the vials of her blood and
had discovered that Sunny Lee—particularly her blood—had in fact
been affected by her exposure to the mutagen. Her red blood cells had
actually mutated into a unique new phenotype that enabled her to
somehow resist any further of the mutagen’s dramatic effects.
However it did so it essentially rendered Sunny Lee immune. So though
he continued to listen to her story, Buster’s mind was flooded with
a myriad of possibilities. Could this discovery yield a potential
cure for him? More tests would certainly be needed, which meant, more
of Sunny Lee’s blood, and more importantly, more time. For the time
being, he rationalized that it would be best if he kept this
information to himself.
The
days that followed, Buster was able to adapt while quite well to his
new companion. Sunny Lee, however, did not fair as well. Becoming
accustomed to the environment of the bunker was difficult. Being
underground for an extended amount of time grated on her nerves. She
was still cooperative with donating her blood and was able to be
pleasant and gracious whenever Buster addressed her, but he could
tell that she was struggling. If there was any chance for him to
maintain her cooperation with his experiments, he knew he had find a
way to intervene on any encroaching signs of prolonged cabin fever.
They
discovered that frequent expeditions away from the bunker were the
most potent remedy to counter any symptoms of cabin fever. Buster
realized that getting out now and then was as good for him as it was
for Sunny Lee. Once he’d confirm that it was safe for him and that
no significant contamination was in their vicinity, he would charge
up the Uno and they would head out across wastelands that were now
only shades of human civilization.
Over the following weeks, they had
not encountered any persons or mutant monsters on any of these
excursions until the sudden and unmistakable sound of gunfire changed
that.
*
* * *
Buster
and Sunny Lee arrived on the Uno to see one man boldly holding off a
throng of monstrous mutants that looked like bipedal, sub humanoid
creatures that were wielding crudely crafted clubs. The only hints
that these things had been human once were the tattered clothes they
still wore. The man was making his stand by an old Ford pick-up that
had its hood up and he was blasting away at the creatures now
charging at him with a drum-fed AA-12 .12 gauge shotgun.
He
was killing some of his attackers, but Buster could see that the guy
was terribly outnumbered and it was only a matter of a few seconds
before the creatures would overrun and kill him. Once again, Buster
knew that if he hesitated any longer, he’d be rendered a sidelined
spectator to a slaughter.
“Hop off,” he shouted over his
shoulder to Sunny Lee. She dismounted the Uno and he raced toward the
fracas. With one hand on one handle bar of the Uno and the other
extending the zapper with a flick, Buster looked like a knight
jousting into battle. He closed in on one the club-toting creatures.
The zapper struck home. It fell to the ground like a tree and lay
there paralyzed.
From the vantage point where she
remained, Sunny Lee watched as Buster proceeded to make passes on the
Uno to carry out his attacks, rendering his targets immobile. But she
was more awestruck by the stranger’s more violent engagement as he
fought back. His skill with the shotgun was devastating on the
monsters, obliterating torsos or exploding heads. But then suddenly
she gasped as Buster was struck from the Uno as he was coming around
for another pass.
The
club hit Buster in the chest and he was knocked him from the Uno in
mid-pass. The zapper was jolted from his grasp as he slammed to the
ground, stunned. The mutant that had dismounted him was now looming
over him; it’s club raised high to deliver a final deathblow. But
then there was a shotgun blast and it’s head vaporized in a crimson
mist. Buster tried to sit up, but his chest throbbed. He hoped that
he hadn’t sustained any serious injury. Then he realized that the
man with the shotgun was now standing over him with his hand thrust
at him. “You okay there?” the man said.
Buster
accepted the offered hand and was surprised by the man’s grip and
strength as he was quickly pulled to his feet. He searched the
ground, spotted the zapper, and scooped it up. He was ready as he
could be for another attack.
“They’re
gone, man. They all bugged out,” the man said. “Looks like I
managed to put a dent in their numbers, which is good, cause I only
had about two rounds left. Name’s Cliff. Who’re you?”
Though
he was still vaguely disoriented from their ordeal with the mutants,
there were a couple of ways Buster considered of how to respond. It
was either with the introduction request, or maybe some recognition
from this stranger of an actual dual effort at defending each other
rather this man’s perceived solitary one. Instead Buster got no
chance at either because Cliff’s attention had already been
directed elsewhere. Sunny Lee had approached them and the man was
already introducing himself to her. Buster knew right then that his
life was about to go through another dramatic change. And unlike the
last one, involving his encounter with Sunny Lee, he was certain this
would be a change he was not going to like.
*
* * *
Two
weeks later Buster had affirmed his dislike for the new change. He
was regretting the decision to allow Cliff to join him and Sunny Lee
in the bunker. It had seemed the humane thing to do at the time.
Cliff’s pick-up had blown its starter and while it was an easy
repair, acquiring a new one would likely entail roving the
wastelands, and no one was ready to risk another mutant attack so
soon. A decision had been made to lay low for a while and the place
that had been chosen to do just that was the bunker.
Right
now, Buster assessed that there were only two upsides to having Cliff
in the bunker. One was that he was another human being whose blood
exhibited immunity to the mutagen. The other upside was, like Sunny
Lee, any in-depth discussion of science was of no interest to him.
This had enabled Buster maintain his secret pursuit of developing a
derivative serum from their blood to make himself immune as well.
It
was the downside, though, that was grating on Buster’s nerves. He
was becoming increasingly agitated that Cliff was wearing out his
welcome. Upon his arrival in the bunker, the man seemed aloof to his
status as a guest. He made himself right at home without any
invocation from his host. In the days that followed, Cliff had begun
to lounge around for most of the day. He consumed more than his
rationed share of food and water and held Sunny Lee as his captive
audience as he recited tales of his numerous exploits as the lone,
post-apocalyptic adventurer. What irritated Buster most was that
Sunny Lee seemed to like being captivated by him.
There
was no denying it to himself, he was jealous. He felt that he was
being cheated out of some cosmic reward. After all, he had managed to
survive alone down here in the bunker for five years during the
Mutagenic Outbreak. And then discovering companionship with an
attractive and pleasant young woman in the aftermath had given him a
glimmer of better things that could come. During their time alone
before Cliff, he was beginning to harbor hopeful ambitions that he
and Sunny Lee would become lovers. He had begun to dream boldly how
they would set out upon a new cause together of repopulating and
restoring the planet. Adam and Eve reincarnated. But Cliff’s
presence had now dashed that dream. More days passed and Buster’s
frustration had reached a boiling point. He decided to confront
Cliff.
*
* * *
As
it was his daily routine, Cliff was regaling Sunny Lee with another
of his multiple death-defying accounts and she was dispensing her
rapt attention when Buster approached them with a calculator in his
hand.
“We
need to talk,” he snapped at Cliff.
Cliff
was startled by Buster’s unusual abruptness but he quickly regained
his composure. Sunny Lee, however, was clearly disturbed by Buster’s
demeanor. His silent disapproval of all the attention that she had
allowed to be monopolized by Cliff had not gone unnoticed. She
suspected that some backlash from Buster would be expected. And this
was clearly it.
“So
talk then,” Cliff said, grinning.
Buster
conveyed his angst. “Well I’ve been taking inventory of our food
and water supply and according to my calculations you and you alone
are consuming more and more than you fair share.”
“Am
I now? And how long have you been stewing about this?”
“What?”
Cliff’s question had caught him off guard.
“Come
on…I’ve seen how you’ve moping around and giving us the evil
eye. You’ve got something to say? Say it. Tell us what’s really
on your mind.”
“I’m
telling you that you’ve been consum—“
Cliff
stood and got in Buster’s face. It was a provocative move that made
Buster step back a bit. “You and I know this isn’t about
rations,” Cliff said. “That’s just your lame ruse. This is
about you and your ego. You’re jealous and pissed off that she and
I are getting along more than you like even though you’ve been down
here with her for quite some time.”
“Shut
up!” Buster screamed. Cliff was right and he had struck a nerve.
“You
shut up!” Cliff screamed back. “You want to talk about rations?
Then talk about them! Don’t come to me with your stupid calculator!
Be a man and say what’s what!”
“That’s
it! I want you out of here!”
Sunny
Lee gasped. Cliff looked at him and grinned at him deviously.
“Ahh…now we get to the nut of the matter. That’s what this is
really about, huh? Well to hell with that, I’m not going anywhere,
man. If you can’t handle us all being down here together then you
leave.”
“This
is my place!”
Cliff
grinned, amused. He noticed Buster clenching his fists. “Wrong,”
Cliff said. “This is our place now. We’re living now in the
middle of the end of the world, or what’s left of it. It’s all
about surviving and I intend to do my surviving right here.”
“I
want you gone right now, Cliff!”
“Or
what?” Cliff’s tone had turned menacing. “You’re going to
throw me out?”
Cliff’s
resistance took Buster aback. He looked at Sunny Lee for some sign of
support, but she averted her eyes from his and remained silent.
Cliff saw this and his grin
returned. “You’re going get her to help you? She enjoys my
company.”
Buster just turned and walked
away, fuming. His rage propelled his thoughts at light speed. He’d
been doing just fine before encountering any other people. Right now
he was inclined make a move that would salvage his experimental
efforts while restoring the order that had once been his solitary
life.
*
* * *
Buster
made his move later during the wee hours of the morning. Since he’d
taken residence in the bunker, Cliff’s vigilance had begun to
diminish significantly. The bunker afforded so much peace of mind
with the safety and security it provided that Cliff eventually
realized he no longer had a reason to sleep with his AA-12 close at
hand. That factor compounded with the heavy meals he gorged himself
on daily had also remarkably contributed reducing him now to a heavy
sleeper.
So
he was completely helpless when Buster slipped quietly toward him and
lightly poked him with the zapper. The jolt made Cliff jump off his
cot and flop to the floor where he lay totally paralyzed.
The
commotion awoke and frightened Sunny Lee, who sat up in her cot
screaming. “What are you doing?” she asked Buster.
Buster
ignored her as he proceeded to quickly bind Cliff’s ankles and
wrist with plastic flex cuffs. He hadn’t foreseen that they would
ever be put to use, but he was glad that he had stored them in the
bunker, anyway. He finished securing Cliff then faced her. “Like he
said,” indicating his prisoner. “It’s all about survival now.
I’ve been thinking it over and realized that I actually agreed with
him. So I’m taking back my home and proceeding with my objective.
That way I’ll kill two birds with one stone. It was good advice he
gave.”
Sunny
Lee’s eyes were wide with terror. Buster’s tone was ominous.
“What are you talking about?”
He
ignored the question. “You had a chance, you know?” he said. “But
you made your choice. Too bad it was the wrong one. You have no idea
how much I’ve dreamed about us being together. How we would’ve
help restore the planet and everything. Now after last night with him
and you just…”
“Just
what?” she asked exasperated. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,”
he said. “That’s just it, you did nothing.” And then he poked
her with the zapper.
*
* * *
Over
the next two weeks that had passed, Buster had proceeded and had even
partially succeeded developing a derivative serum from more
involuntary samples of Sunny Lee and Cliff’s blood. Since he had no
test subjects, he had succumbed to take the serum and expose himself
to the mutagenic mist. The result was that he began to suffer from a
violent fever. At first he had assumed that it was just a reaction as
the serum enabled his body to counteract the mutagen’s effects
because he miraculously had suffered no outward physiological
mutations.
An internal examination, though,
was an entirely differently matter. It was in this sense that the
serum had been a partial success. It indeed had helped him to resist
most of the mutating effects, but his exposure to the mutagen
combined with the serum had not prevented a dramatic mutation of his
red blood cells. Buster discovered that although he was partially
saved from the mutagen’s most devastating effects, his new mutated
red blood cells possessed hematophagic traits. His fever would abate
for several days only after he had received a massive transfusion of
fresh human blood directly from Sunny Lee and Cliff. Buster had
tried as best as he could to preserve the blood supply he had in
them, but the requirement for quelling this condition had begun to
progress at an unnaturally rapid rate. Eventually it became a
powerful, irresistible addiction that even Sunny Lee and Cliff would
no longer survive.
Buster realized with some irony
that he was right where he had begun. Sure he had restored his
previous life of solitude, but he now he required the actual presence
of others in order to sustain it. He knew the probabilities that
there were other people like his last guests was still very high. He
would go out and search for them. He would find them and befriend
them.
And then he would invite them down
into the bunker.
