Leader of the Resistance
part 1 of a novella by Frank Pipp & Bruce H. Markuson, illustrations by Michelle Markuson
Chapter One
The Bunker
Day 1
Whoosh…clink went the wheel on that small bank vault door. I locked myself in the bunker, my hands still trembling. A three foot wide potted tree covers the entrance to the bunker. Hospital doors are barred shut. I can’t get the shattering glass and screams out of my head. It was rumored COVID-19 was just a pretest, a proving ground for something more deadly. Now the Earth has been infected with a bio-weapon. The TV was saying millions are dying.
Day 2
Dad bought this house and built this bunker way up on the side of the mountain. After Mom died he has been a little more protective. It’s a 20x10 foot steel-reinforced concrete room built into a cave, in the side of a mountain. Dad put cameras in and outside the house and bunker. I have a view from all of the cameras on the security monitor in the bunker but I see nothing. However, he did drill a hole through two feet of solid granite to the cliff outside. He put a tank scope in that drilled hole through the wall of the cave. It’s about six inches above the floor. If I put my eye up to it, it gives me a one-inch diameter view of the town below and the airbase a few miles away. I can barely see anything for the smoke and flames. I look down on the town. Law and order are nonexistent. What do I do now? I take a deep breath and relax. I am safe, hidden away. Dad left a few days ago. I tried calling but no cell service. He was working on his HAM radio in the bunker. Now it’s in a hundred parts. Where is he?
Day 3
The silence is overwhelming. I cannot hear anything inside this bunker except my own breathing and the airflow through the cave. I still can’t make or receive calls on my cell. What gives? I pick up a large conch shell Dad brought back from Florida. He kept it here as a reminder of hope if ever this shelter was needed. A touch of the sea, he said, in case we are buried inside this tomb forever. I just thought it was my Dad’s dark sense of humor. As a kid, he could give me the creeps.
“Good morning, my daughter Hope!” he would yell. “I see you’re still alive. You must remember your name is Fallon. It means leader. You must not forget.”
“Geez Dad.” Today I only see military trucks in town. No one else is on the street. I check the security monitor that connecting the bunker to a camera in my house. Empty.
Day 4
My Dad built this bunker over a well. I can hear his voice as if he is standing next to me “Hope, water is life.” Protein bars, oatmeal, beans, nuts are on shelves stacked to the ceiling. A one-year supply of food for three people. There’s a small kitchen and a toilet in the corner. Only Dad knows where it flushes to. The air is filtered through pipes laid throughout the mountain. It’s a natural airflow. My Dad was a fanatical planner. He never talked about his military career, some sort of Air Force special operations. I wipe myself slowly with the water to feel again. It is cold. Mountain cold. A drop of water runs down my arm and makes a design in the dirt. It’s like hoarfrost.
Day 12
I pace back and forth, back and forth, like a tiger in a cage. One… two… three…four…five… six…steps…pivot…start over. Is this my life? I look at the sign above the door. One word – Grit. My Dad’s favorite book was True Grit. I wish I had read it. I’ve played my millionth game of solitaire, hit a thousand miles of candy in Candy Crush and now I’m even tempted to read some of my Dad's military books he’s stored here. Boring, boring, boring.
Day 19
The power has gone out. I look through the tank scope and see that the town is dark too. I scrambled in the dark for the flashlight. I grabbed the stationary bike and hooked it up to the storage battery and pedal. After a few revolutions a small light comes on in the bunker but it’s a very limited power. My Dad thought of everything. At least I can recharge my phone, whatever good that does.
Chapter Two
Stuck
Day 20
It’s my 16th birthday. Conch shell and I sing happy birthday and think about what we will do when we get out. I promise to take conch back to the ocean someday. I find my old astronaut helmet, from when I was like 4 years old. It was in a corner behind the sacks of rice. I can't believe it wasn't thrown out after my Mom died. Dad was very depressed one day and tossed everything away when I was at a friend's birthday party. I remember the shock of my empty bedroom. But this is still here. Mom thought there was something wrong with me as I wore it to kindergarten every day for a month. "Don't worry," Ms. Benning, my K4 teacher, said to Mom at a conference, "I think it shows your daughter is very creative and has a strong imagination. It will serve her well in life." Mom never told me to take it off after that. Dad always teased me when I wore the helmet, saying, "Ground control to Major Fallon, Ground control to Major Fallon, eat your broccoli and put your helmet on, five, four, three, two, one."
I hug the helmet against my heart and a tear falls down my cheek. I mouthed the word "Mama" over and over. I look at the helmet closely. OMG my Mom wrote something inside it:
DREAM BIG HOPE
LOVE,
MOM
I put it back on my head, tears of joy raining down my cheeks. But then my cell dings! He set a reminder on my phone. “Happy Birthday” from my boyfriend Kyle. I try to text him back but nothing. “Stupid phone, stupid phone.”
I remembered that I had a chocolate protein bar in my backpack. One of the good ones. Whoopee, I took the helmet off to eat it. But then I found a birthday card from Kyle.
The card read:
I know your eyes in the morning sun
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain
And the moment that you wander far from me
I want to feel you in my arms again
And you come to me on a summer breeze
Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave
And it's me you need to show
How deep is your love,
Happy Birthday
I love you
Kyle
I know it’s from an old Bee Gees song. It was playing on the radio when we drove to Make Out Point. I ran my finger over the words, “I love you.” He never said that before. He put a flower in the card. It’s wilted, bent over my finger as I hold it.
I wonder where he is now. I put the space helmet back on. I sit quietly, with memories of the past and no hope for the future. “Happy Birthday Hope.”
Day 43
What’s going on in the town? I wash my eyes and look again through the tank scope. Vaccine centers are being set up. I see large white tents with red crosses being set up. A road sign reads:
CURE HAS BEEN FOUND.
VACCINE WILL BE AVAILABLE 6:00 AM -11:00 PM.
People are lining up. I suddenly feel something. What is it? Hope? There must be a cure. Oh my god, I am smiling. I can go home now. I grab my conch shell and dance, twirling and swirling like a cyclone. I don’t care. No one can see me. Goodbye bunker. I grab the great wheel-shaped handle and turn. “STUCK!” I tried again and use both hands to pull it. “NO!”
I hopped up on it like a vault in gym class to put all my weight on it. “NOTHING!”
It’s jammed or something. I wedged a crowbar into the handle and try to lever it open. Nothing worked. “No. No. No.” I threw the crowbar against the door and kicked it over and over, then slid down against the door crying. My heart is pounding like it will burst open. I slammed my fists against the floor. “No….no…no…” then fall asleep from exhaustion.
Day 50
People in town are dropping like flies. The vaccine, it didn’t work or maybe…I don’t know. Maybe the vaccine backfired? Oh my God, could it have been a trick to weed out the weak? A poison in the vaccine? “Stop it, Hope.” The door is still stuck. Dad? What should I do?
Day 69
Total silence I think. Like a ghost town. I look again through the tank scope and see no movement. The tents look empty. I see no one but dead bodies in the street. This is it. I have no further place to go. I assume everyone is dead. The world is over.
Day 73
Some sort of creatures are roaming the town, taking dead bodies away. I wish I could focus this scope better. I can’t make out the features of any one individual with the scope. No it is some sort of alien? They started up the bakery again and are taking food from the grocery store. I hold my shell and place it to my ear for comfort. I’m still on limited power. I wish the hotplate worked. I could cook some macaroni and cheese, the only decent thing in this bunker. I’m tired of cold beans and protein bars. “Please God, help me.”
Am I witnessing the harvest of the Earth?
To be continued next week! Until then, discuss in the comments, peruse the archives, and get to know the people behind this story below. And if you aren’t subscribed yet—or if you haven’t made sure we don’t go to spam—then you will miss out on the rest of the story!
Meet the authors and illustrator:
Bruce Markuson lives with his wife and two children in Milwaukee WI. He has a published novel as well as over a hundred and fifty other publications. Bruce is also working on a number of series. He enjoys writing and often finds himself with writer’s obsession. He says the best way to write is to have an ending then write to that ending.
Frank Pipp is a retired early elementary school teacher living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin (Go Packers!). Prior to teaching, he was a vice president in cash management for a regional bank. He has two adult children and a rescue border collie. He is active in mitochondrial disease fundraising, enjoys long dog walks and writing. In 2019 he had a poem about a summer day as a ten-year-old, a science fantasy story, and a science fiction short story published. During these times of Covid-19 shelter in place, he is learning to knit and made a pair of Dr. Who mittens.
Michelle Markuson did the illustrations. She is a Graphic Design student at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee. It captures a very feminine expression of the doom, horror and hopelessness that words can’t always express.