Chapter 20

Inside the bunker, the man with the combat jacket had always felt secure. He was its king. He refurbished it lovingly in the knowledge that no one would ever come here again, unless he invited them.

One day, perhaps he would bring someone here for his pleasure. He'd sometimes thought of this, as he lay awake at night.

The bunker had several living areas and an electricity generator that he'd installed. Running water was pumped from an underground spring. It was perfect.

He skinned and gutted the rabbit. As he worked, he wiped his brow then caught sight of himself in the mirror. On his forehead was a smear of rabbit's blood. It made him look fearsome so he left it there until it dried and felt uncomfortable.

He cooked the rabbit knowing that the smoke and smell of the cooking would be filtered before it reached the outside air. Then he spent the rest of the evening talking with his survivalist friends on the Internet.

"Shot me a rabbit this afternoon for dinner," he announced to anyone on the Internet notice board. His bunker name was well known and his comment brought an immediate response

"Hope you saved some for another day?"

"In my freezer. You never know when that day will come when you can't go outside."

"Are you in your bunker now?"

"Sure am ... it feels good - roll on the holocaust, I'm ready!"

"When the day comes, they'll all want to be in there with you. You might have to shoot something other than rabbit then!"

"It's all the same to me," he typed, carefully. "If they're good looking, I might let them in - for a price (snigger)!

He knew the Internet was not secure. Too many government agencies watched these days. An open admission of an intention to kill could attract unwelcome attention. He prided himself on the perfection of his planning and being prepared. Briefly he wondered what the guys on the notice board would say if he told them about his other kill today. But the muddy water was deep where he'd deposited the man's car and it would probably rot there in silence until the next coming.

The conversation on the notice board continued with a discussion of the latest recycling systems to convert human waste into plant food for underground hydroponics gardening systems.

Later, he found some particularly vicious porn on a new web site he'd discovered and satiated fell into a deep sleep on his single camp bed.

The next day Amelia-Rose woke early. She lay listening to the sound of the birds wafting through her open window, as they gathered in their food in the new day. But thoughts of the time she had spent there with John the previous day crowded into her mind and she quickly got out of bed and went downstairs for breakfast. As she ate her muesli and sipped her glass of orange, she remembered Ralph's words and spent some time watching the birds strutting about on her lawn.

Although she'd left them some bread, a large blackbird was battling with a particularly fat worm. He'd pulled it half out of the ground but the worm was determined not to end up in a blackbird's stomach. It took several minutes before the Blackbird won the battle, depositing a triumphant dropping onto the grass and moved on contentedly to peck at the bread.

Breakfast was soon over and Amelia-Rose decided to go for a walk and see if she could find Ralph's caravan.

The path by the river was wet underfoot. It smelt of moss and soggy leaves. The trees hung low overhead forming an arch as she followed the instructions on Ralph's map. Although her shoes were sensible, she quickly realized that the paisley pleated skirt, white blouse and blue pullover weren't the ideal country gear for walking. Trailing thorns caught at her woolen pullover and her legs were soon splattered by mud.

"Silly girl," she told herself. "He's not going to like you with a pair of dirty legs."

Eventually, she came to the edge of the wood where there was a small field and in the corner was a small green caravan. Her pulse, already beating hard with the climb, quickened even more.

Amelia-Rose paused as she contemplated the significance of the Range Rover standing nearby.

She didn't have to wait long to find out. The door of the caravan opened and Kate, dressed in sensible work boots, jeans and a jacket emerged, her face was glowing and her hair was tousled.

Behind her, framed in the door was Ralph, in his dressing gown. They exchanged a goodbye kiss that Kate clearly intended to last him all day and then she was gone in a cloud of exhaust pipe fumes and churned up mud.

Amelia-Rose waited until the vehicle had been gone for a few minutes then squelched her way across the muddy field to tap on the door of Ralph's caravan.

Copyright of this site is Rob Hopcott's, 1999 - 2009, all rights reserved. All characters in this story are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise.
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