Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 2) 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 NINETEEN

Dustin Brown rolled out of bed and planted his feet on the chilly wood floor. It took a second for his vision to clear before he remembered where he was—a spare bedroom in a country home belonging to Albert’s mom.

He hadn’t planned to spend the night at his new friend’s house, but Albert talked him into it after they’d acquired the items from the high school’s chemistry lab.

The room was maybe ten feet square and sparsely decorated, with a three-drawer vertical dresser directly in front of him. Its top was smothered with loose stacks of faded baseball hats, plus a glass jar sitting next to the edge, half full of coins.

The single bed under his rear end had a thin white sheet, ergonomic pillow, and pastel-colored comforter that smelled dank and musty. The walls, painted an off-white color, were barren except for a three-foot-wide mirror with a flock of fingerprints dotting the bottom.

The strangest item in the room was the lamp next to the bed. It featured a howling dog’s head as the base. Dustin wasn’t sure if it was homemade, but the intricacy of the carving was impressive. The lampshade, not so much. It was faded yellow, with a fist-sized hole along the back.

The closet to his right was empty and missing a door. The hinges were there, hanging, but the rest of the frame had been orphaned. He counted eleven hangers dangling from the rod across the middle. The metal kind.

The antique hardware on the bedroom door matched the gaudy crown molding encircling the room. So did the amenities in the hall bathroom he’d used the night before. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a seashell-shaped sink, or used a toilet with an overhead tank and pull chain.

Right then, a tickle rose up in his nose. He tried to quell it but couldn’t. He sneezed, sending the tiny dust particles on the lampshade spewing into the air. They floated through the air in random patterns, swirling around each other like a swarm of bees.

Everywhere he looked, it was more of the same—dust covered everything. It was clear Albert wasn’t much of a housekeeper. But Dustin wasn’t surprised. His new pal and fellow deputy didn’t take very good care of himself, so why should his deceased mother’s home be any different?

Dustin stood up and stretched out his back. It creaked and popped, thanks to the mattress he’d slept on. It was beyond uncomfortable, especially the lumpy middle, leaving his rail-thin physique begging for an eight-hour do-over.

When he went to the bedroom door and pulled it open, a slip of white notepaper smacked him in the face. Albert must have taped it to the door while Dustin was sleeping, and done so precisely at eye level.

Dustin took the note and read it. The handwritten message contained a single sentence scribbled in blue ink: Meet me in the basement when you get up, Amigo.

He crumpled the note and tossed it into the corner, adding to a pile of empty plastic bottles and torn candy wrappers.

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