BUNKER BUSTER

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.