Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 1) by Jay J. Falconer

Author:Jay J. Falconer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: BookBreeze.com LLC
Published: 2017-04-06T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Albert walked past his newly-assigned partner on Team Two and put his wide backside against the rectangular base of the memorial statue in the center of the town square.

The towering bronze-colored structure was a likeness of Cyrus Clearwater, the town patriarch. The shadows being cast by the monument’s raised arms were long and pointing east, reminding him of a time not that long ago when he was sitting below the Great Sphinx of Giza in Egypt.

Cyrus’ left hand was holding a huge spade-shaped shovel. In his right was a massive groundbreaking pick, both representative of the endless hours of hard work put in by the town founder and his family to forge a life in this lush but unforgiving wilderness.

At least that was the story Albert had been told by one of his grade-school teachers. He couldn’t remember the old broad’s real name, but her saggy cheeks and the huge mole on her forehead were legendary. The kids called her Cyclops, that much he remembered. Not that any of it mattered. The tale of Cyrus Clearwater was ancient history to him.

The man died way back in the dark ages—something like 1938, if he remembered correctly. Colon cancer was his downfall, he thought. Or maybe it was a brutal bear attack. He couldn’t be sure. Either way, the man got his ass handed to him and Albert couldn’t care less.

He turned to his teammate standing to the right and put out his hand. “My name’s Albert.”

“Dustin Brown,” the short-haired man answered, shaking hands with a doubly firm grip.

Albert couldn’t believe the size of Dustin’s hand. It was both long and wide, reminiscent of what he would expect from a burly, 6’5” lumberjack.

Dustin was tall, but not that tall, and he certainly wasn’t burly. He was maybe a buck-forty in weight, with a good portion of that in his massive, hooked nose. The dude’s deep-set eyes and stork-like physique made him look like something only the casting directors in Hollywood could conjure up for some movie shot in the starving deserts of Ethiopia.

“Why’d you join this detail?” Albert asked, pulling his hand free from the grip and wondering if the underweight pencil standing across from him would snap under the first sign of pressure.

“Seemed like the right thing to do when Sheriff Apollo asked me. For some reason, I just couldn’t say no. What about you?”

“Always wanted to wear a badge. And maybe I’ll get to fire off a few rounds now and then.”

“I’m sorry, what was that? Did you say you wanted to shoot somebody?”

“Chill out. I never said that. But they must have a stockpile of weapons and a shooting range we get to use. Right?”

“Honestly, that never crossed my mind.”

“Oh, really?” Albert said, sizing up the guy’s answer. It didn’t sound legit. He decided to probe a little more, hoping to free the truth.

“Don’t you want to test your skills and see if you measure up? I mean, what red-blooded American male doesn’t want to send some rounds downrange? They might even have some Tannerite we get to use.

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